A Pelican's tale, fifty years of London and elsewhere

A
PELICAN'S TALE

By FRAN K M. B OYD

\ vi

A PELICAN'S TALE

THE AUTHOR

A
PELICAN'S TALE

FIFTY YEARS OF LONDON
AND ELSEWHERE

BY
FRANK M. BOYD

PHILADELPHIA
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY

LONDON: HERBERT JENKINS, LIMITED

PRINTED IN ENGLAND

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

PACK

My birth and parentage. A really conscientious objector —
Giving up a fortune for a belief — The start of things — Sir
James Simpson, the inventor of chloroform, helps — His seal-
skin coat and waistcoat — St. Andrews days — A seat of
learning — Golf — And baps — What the head of Fettes said
— Tom Morris the Grand Old Man of Golf — " Young Tom "
— A place full of eminent people — Bishop Wordsworth and the
rook's eggs — Shedding my blood in their defence — A brief
chronicle of celebrities — Concerning Charles Kingsley —
" When all the world is young " — A modest vocalist — At
Pat's — Some famous old boys — A headmaster who believed
in leather — Sir Douglas Haig's first school — St. Andrews
heroes — The medal day on the links — Mr. Arthur Balfour as
Captain of the Royal and Ancient Golf Club — A famous play-
wright— A Royal Captain — How he forfeited the good opinion
of the golf caddies. . . . . . . . 1 7

CHAPTER II

At school and what I learned — Little that was of any use to me
in after life — A knowledge of Shakespeare and how it was
acquired — A Chair of general information badly needed —
What lads of the time read — The Boys of England and The Sons
of Britannia — Jack Harkaway and Tom Wildrake — Two
wondrous heroes — What Robert Louis Stevenson thought —
My toy theatre — A youthful impressario — Something of a
chemist — An indifferent fireman — The end of my penance —
Settling my future career — The Tay Bridge disaster nearly
puts an end to this — In Germany generally and Diisseldorf in
particular — I fancy I am to be a painter — No one else does
so, however — Distinguished artists who were fellow-students
— The great day at Cologne — How old Kaiser Wilhelm com-
pleted the cathedral — The most recent Kaiser and the ridicu-
lous figure he cut on the occasion — What Moltke and Bis-
marck thought about him — A disagreeable adventure which
might have had consequences — Von Moltke and the Wisdom
of the Serpent — Bismarck drunk, but far from incapable . 32

CHAPTER III

Arranging a career — A latter-day Dick Whittington — I go to
London to become a civic millionaire — Failing the so doing,

49J3549

A PELICAN'S TALE

PAG*

[ drift into journalism — Life at Lloyd's — A resident in
Pimlico — The dreadful significance of the name in those days
— The Pimlico vestals — Sir Charles Cayzer and Sir John
Muir— -Where Cayzer threatened to send his " Clan " ships
to — His reason for not carrying out his threat — A very con-
scientious interviewer — My meeting with John L. Sullivan
— The champion of the world in training for his fight with
Mitchell — How I stood up to " the big fellow " and how I
most successfully took the knock — An article on Lloyd's in
The Bat which made history at the time — Clerical friends in
high places — A kindly bishop— An impressive experience —
A guest in company with five bishops — How Bishop Thorold
lost his spectacles at the Athenaeum — Who stole them ? — A
dreadful supposition — How I became a regular contributor
to The Bat — How its editor, James Davis, fled to France for
safety's sake — How The Hawk came into being in its place . 49

CHAPTER IV

Free of the city — How I gradually drifted into journalism —
Small hapenings and how they affect one's career — I purchase
The Hawk on behalf of a brewer — Augustus Moore as editor
— How the brewer and his partner made ^12,000 out of a £325
investment — How I became " registered proprietor " of the
paper — Also writ-receiver in chief — A paper of many libels
— Alec Knowles and his " Wrinkles " — A remarkable series
of articles — Why they were not republished in book form —
— The staff of The Hawk — Some men who got on — The
Whistler-Moore fracas at Drury Lane — How they slapped one
another to the amusement of onlookers, and did little harm —
How Charlie Mitchell, champion boxer of England, told me a
funny story " not for publication " — How it found its way
into The Hawk by way of Augustus Moore — How Mitchell and
Pony Moore subsequently called at the office to have a heart-
to-heart talk with us — The consternation of the editor on
hearing of their visit — How I decided to leave The Hawk and
start The Pelican — A wise move which proved a highly satisfac-
tory one in after years ....... 64

CHAPTER V

Starting on my own account — The creation of The Pelican —
How The Tattler — with two t's — did not help matters — A
scheme which failed — The first money taken — Where it dis-
appeared to — How the paper came by its title — Serving on
a jury — If likely to be convicted, be careful in the selection
of your judge ! — The finish of The Hawk and the success of
The Pelican — The death of " The Smart Paper for Smart
People " — Wise advice from George R. Sims — " Dagonet "
on the folly of making enemies — How The Sporting Times and
The Pelican nearly became amalgamated — " Tale-Pitcher "
Binstead — A real humorist — " The Dwarf of Blood " — How
Colonel Newnham-Davis came by his style and title — Bessie

CONTENTS 7

FAGB

Bellwood's pantomime — The " Dwarf " as a cookery genius
— His famous Guy Fawkes dinner, and those who were
present at it — A born story-teller — A very distinguished ad-
mirer of " Pitcher " — How he was mistaken for a German
spy — His singularly apt retort ...... 76

CHAPTER VI

Our first big " scoop " — The Tranby Croft affair — What Ed-
mund Yates said about it — Also what the eminent solicitor
thought — How we cornered the " Baccarat scandal " market
for a time — The author of the articles — No harm in men-
tioning his name now — Some Pelican contributors — Willie
Wilde of The Daily Telegraph — His marriage to Mrs. Frank
Leslie, the great American newspaper proprietress — His neg-
lected opportunities of great things — A very different man from
his notorious brother Oscar — Oscar Wilde's desire — How it
went unfulfilled — His subsequent appearance at the Old
Bailey — His departure therefrom to do " two years' hard "
— Some murder trials — The Milsom Fowler affair at the Old
Bailey — How Fowler nearly murdered Milsom in the dock —
A real sensation scene — The Tichborne Claimant — What he
said — Fleet Street swindlers — Bogus advertising agents who
preyed on new papers — I suffer from them — And some of
them suffer from me — The simple art of protecting oneself —
Sometimes an easier matter than calling in the police — How it
answered in my case ....... 89

CHAPTER VII

The new offices — A nest of ladies' journals — Distinguished sub-
editors— Our only libel action — On trial at the Mansion House
— Mr. Charles Gill, K.C., and Mr. Justice Avory — Didcott the
music-hall agent — Father Stanton of St. Albans, Holborn — A
fine priest and a great man — An unpaid curate for fifty
years — " Dad's " opinion of great wealth — The law of balance
— Money and misfortune — The frequency with which they
go together — What Charles Frohman said about it — His
story of the Satrap and the physician — The man who had
no shirt — Frohman and Barrie — How Frohman died in the
Lusitania tragedy — Barrie and Peter Pan — How Peter nearly
had another name — A wonderfully successful play — How its
author believed it would be a financial failure — How Barrie
meant to indemnify Frohman against loss in connection with
its production ! — The play he meant to present Frohman
with ... . -i<>5

CHAPTER VIII

A London first night at the theatre — The terror thereof for the
players — An audience of professional play-goers — Every
one a critic — Interruptions from the front — How some
actors answered them — The mistake of so doing — A revue

8 A PELICAN'S TALE

MM

comedian's error — How a well-known player in Called Back
suffered — Mr. Lowenfeld's opinion of his audience — Sir
Charles Wyndham and " The Man in the White Hat " — The
elder George Grossmith and the humorist in the gallery —
How Sir Henry Irving lost his temper — What Edmund Yates
said about the happening — Bessie Bellwood and the retort
courteous — The Younger George Grossmith's first good part
— How he made it grow — Mr. John L. Shine's prophecy con-
cerning George, which came true — The curious mishap at
the opening of the Shaftesbury — The worst of " cheap
houses " — £70,000 for a £16,000 theatre — A jump in prices —
The Old Pavilion — My friend the Chairman— Mr. Arthur
Roberts and Mr. James Fawn in the heyday of their music-
hall triumphs — How Mr. Roberts forsook the halls for the
theatres .121

CHAPTER IX

The Pelican Club and something about it — Who the Pelicans
were — How the club was started — Shifter's enterprise — The
coming of Swears — A strong committee — An era of boxing
— How Swears bought Shifter out — What became of half
of the " monkey " Shifter received for his share — A sound
philosopher — What the club was like — Its remarkable
adornments — How King Edward visited the place when
Prince of Wales — The result of a broken promise — Fatty's
chair — Major Hope-Johnstone's celebrated moustache — How
Lord Esme Gordon bought it — The Pelican page-boy who
sought to better himself — The coaching set — Jem Selby its
High Priest — The celebrated record drive to Brighton and
back — Those who took part in it — The bet won with ten
minutes to spare — How the event was celebrated . .131

CHAPTER X

With regard to the future — The candidates' Book of the Pelican
Club—A specially remarkable entry therein — The man who
nearly made himself Empe- of the French — His sensa-
tional finish — The courtier \v sought information from the
bandmaster on behalf of Queen Victoria — A dreadful title —
What the good Queen must have thought — The Victoria Cross
— The Queen and the Highland officers — King Carlos of Portu-
gal— A happy monarch — Clement Scott of The Telegraph —
The famous interview which led to his downfall — How he
tried to come back, and did so for a time — Success on the
London stage — How it came to some lucky ones — Fame at
a jump — Mr. Hayden Coffin's arrival — Others who became
famous in one night — Miss Edna May and her first success
among us — Brevity the soul of criticism . . . 145

CHAPTER XI

The generosity of the theatrical profession — Concerning certain
great healers and their remarkable kindness — Sir Morell Mac-

CONTENTS 9

PACK

kenzie and Kaiser Frederick of Germany — Lennox Browne,
a warm friend of the Stage and a great throat specialist —
What " Ell Bee " said about Sir John Bland Sutton — A
strange coincidence — The working of Fate — Sir Frederick
Treves — The value of personal appearance to a surgeon —
Sir Alfred Fripp the famous operator, and kindly man —
How some plays succeed and others fail — The remarkable
difference between the opinions of London and the Pro-
vinces— Both good, but different — Van Biene and his Broken
Melody — First night audiences and others — A threefold scheme
— What Sir Arthur Pinero thought about it — Sir Arthur
Pearson and his wonderful work for the blind — The good he
has done for his fellow-sufferers — His remarkable early days—
The start of Pearson's Weekly — How he left Tit Bits office to
accomplish it — The series of miracles which occurred — How
Sir William Ingram helped — The start of the Daily Express —
The purchase of The Standard .... .160

CHAPTER XII

What a well-known player said — Her advice to budding actresses
— Lady Orkney at the Gaiety and elsewhere — The Sisters
Gilchrist — " The Little Grattans " — Mr. Harry Grattan's
early experiences — How luck comes to some — And how
others refuse her advances — Colonel North and Nunthorpe's
City and Suburban victory — A long-priced winner — Sir
Joseph Lyons and the start of a great business — A lost op-
portunity— The real beginning of the great Lyons' concern
— How a single song made a singer — The story of " Far, Far
Away " — Miss Lottie Collins and her " Boom-de-ay " success
— Mr. Arthur Roberts and his zebra bathing suit — His philo-
sophical dresser — The smart restaurants of the time — Those
who controlled them — The passing of the famous bars —
" Captain Criterion of London " — Romano and his presenta-
tion loving cup — His very sudden death — Miss Gladys
Cooper's first supper party — Gaiety girls who got on — Nellie
Farren's reason for never quarrelling with a chorus girl —
Very sound advice . . . . . . . i?5

CHAPTER XIII

Something about Cecil Rhodes — Meeting him in Sir Starr Jame-
son's flat — A wonderful man — His remarkable opinion of the
German Kaiser — How Mr. Rhodes signed his photograph —
His long-drawn-out death — What he said to Jameson near the
end — An indifferent musician — But an appreciative listener
— Some eminent composers at their best — How I saved Sir
Arthur Sullivan's life— Sir William Gilbert— A " Gentish "
Person — Lewis Carroll — Golf stories — Music-making in
strange places — How Ivan Caryll thought his fortune was
made early in life — Miss Bessie Bellwood and the retort
courteous — A remarkable cabman — A private recital by
Paderewski to an audience of six — Bessie's opinion of Provi-
dence— How Mr. James Buchanan came to London — And

io A PELICAN'S TALE

PACK

how Sir Thomas "Dewar followed his lead — Fortunes out of
whisky — Spirits which you drink, and spirits which you
see—The ghost gat Glamis Castle — The story Lord Strath-
more told — The subscription-seeking clergyman and the
embarrassed spectre — How the ghost was effectively laid —
Willing but impecunious — Frank Richardson the " Whisker "
expert — My list of suicides — A sad and curious coincidence . 190

CHAPTER XIV

The bad old days and the present time Stage— The Theatre as
a profession for men and women — Not at all a bad one for the
latter — The connection between the Church and the Stage —
The bygone mystery of the actor's calling — How and why
it has disappeared — Some curious stage slips — " Beetle "
Kemble's little mistake in Hamlet — The libel on Sir Charles
Wyndham's sobriety — Henry Irving as a singer — A sub-
stitute for Sims Reeves — Actors and actresses who sing —
and some who shouldn't — Miss Marie Lohr's first visit to Sir
Herbert Tree — How Miss Marie Tempest came to forsake
musical- comedy — A matter of trousers — An understudy's
opportunity — The tiny turns of Fate which make up history
— Miss Jose Collins at Daly's — The clever daughter of a clever
mother — " Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay " and how its singer jumped
into fame on two continents — An incredible success . . 208

CHAPTER XV

How history repeats itself — In the matter of night clubs and
other things — The Old Lotus — Fatty Coleman as secretary
— Evans's — The Corinthian — Dudley Ward and the Gardenia
— The Alsatians — La Goulue in Leicester Square — Her rival
Nini Patte-en-1'air at the Duke of York's — A remarkable
rehearsal — Maurice Farkoa's London debut — A theatre on
fire — How a panic was averted at Birmingham — Arthur
Roberts to the rescue — Oceana the Beautiful — Her begin-
ning and parentage — Whimsical Walker and the purchase of
Jumbo the elephant — How Barnum made ^540,000 out of a
^3000 investment — James Bailey's office hours at Olympia —
About Zazel — John Strange Winter and Bootle's Baby —
What the Bishop of London said — George Augustus Sala
and his " Journal " — " Winter's Weekly " — Clement Scott's
" Free Lance " ........ 222

CHAPTER XVI

The Duke of Fife as a bicyclist — A friend in need — A good
Scotch name — The ill-fated voyage of the P. and O. Delhi —
Wrecked off Cape Spartavento — King Edward and the
champagne — How the term " Boy " originated — The Bishop
and the Peer — How the Duke scored — Turning the tables
with a vengeance — Mr. G. P. Huntley's experience in Petro-
grad — An audience which didn't know its own mind — The

CONTENTS ii

hangman's letter and his hope — What an execution is really
like — Not so thrilling as it is usually painted — Sir Augustus
Harris and his idea of luck— The Baddeley cake and its
cutting, at Drury Lane — A remarkable function of former
days — " Hawnsers fer Korrispondinks " — The beginning of
Lord Northcliffe's fame and fortune — Mr. Charles Cochran
and the circus — The last Covent Garden circus — George
Batty and King Edward — Present-day threatrical salaries —
Their remarkable size — What George Edwardes said about
An Artist's Model — Where will theatrical expenses end ? . 237

CHAPTER XVII

Journalists of the past and the present — Edmund Yates of The
World — How I first met him — " A good low-comedy face "
— More than that needed for an actor — A great friend and a
disciple of Dickens — Why I did not go on the Stage — Mr.
Labouchere and Truth — How I was able to help " Labby " —
The syndicate which wanted to purchase Truth — How King
Edward and " Labby " agreed to differ for a time — Cherchez
la femme ! — How George Lewis set things right again —
Briefing a future Lord Chief Justice — " A young fellow
named Isaacs " — How the " young fellow " won his case —
Another co-religionist of a very different type — Ernest Benzon,
the Jubilee Plunger — The man who got through a great for-
tune in record time — Owners' tips — Fred Archer's triple tip
— Matthew Dawson's superstition — The laying of the founda-
tion-stone of Daly's Theatre — How Bill Yardley suffered on
the occasion — How Harry Grattan and I wrote a musical
comedy — Our stringent terms — An early revue which might
have been produced at the Alhambra and wasn't . . 252

CHAPTER XVIII

What John Hollingshead said about unlucky theatres — " Prac-
tical John " — The ill-fortune of the Olympic — Concerning
the Opera Comique and the Old Globe — D'Oyly Carte's first
success — The Olympic as a music-hall — How Wilson Barrett
came to Wych Street — How he also nearly reached Carey
Street by so doing ! — His subsequent triumph with The Sign of
the Cross — The Kingsway and its numerous other names — The
Court Theatre in former days — A big success at little Terry's
— Mr. Charles Hawtrey's triumph with The Private Secretary —
How Sir Herbert Tree appeared as The Rev. Robert Spalding
— How Penley followed him in the part — An extraordinary
success — Rare Fred Leslie ! — A change from romantic opera
to Gaiety musical-comedy — The Gaiety almost a stock
company theatre — How Mr. Seymour Hicks and Miss Ellaline
Terriss came to the Gaiety — The George Grossmith period —
A very successful management ...... 275

12 A PELICAN'S TALE

CHAPTER XIX

PAG*

The passing of Sir Herbert Tree — A terribly sudden ending to a
great career — The last letter he wrote — His remarkably
successful management — A fine character-actor — A master
of make-up — How he puzzled his audience when The Rtd
Lamp was produced — Tree's visit to Berlin — Max Beerbohm's
retort — Sir George Alexander and the St. James's — His earlier
days at the Lyceum — The first venture into management at
the old Avenue — Alexander as an eccentric dancer — The
romantic actor as a robust comedian — The murder of William
Terris — What became of his hat ? — George Alexander and the
dramatic author — " A matter of moonshine " — Oscar Wilde
and Lady Windermere's Fan — Alec's old Scotch nurse and
what she thought of his profession — A very sensitive and
kindly natured man — The secret of his great personal popu-
larity . . . . . . . . . . 287

CHAPTER XX

The Genesis of the Christmas Pelican — A rather remarkable
production — The extraordinary list of authors — The strongest
cast not merely in London but in the world — Henry Irving,
Sarah Bernhardt, and Herbert Tree as story-tellers — The
editorial difficulties of dealing with the eminent scribes — The
Maharaja of Cooch Behar — A fine sportsman and a very
" white " native — His theatrical supper party, and what
occurred at it — The lightning change of the Maharaja from
an English gentleman to an Eastern potentate — What he said
to his dependant — The extraordinary effect his words produced
— Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde in real life — My main object in
starting The Pelican — How I was fortunately able to realise it
— How the war nearly finished us — but didn't — I decide to
retire — The sale of The Pelican to a syndicate — Out of the
pull and push — And very glad and thankful to be so . . 302

Index 313

ILLUSTRATIONS

THE AUTHOR ...... Frontispiece

FACING PAGE

THE VERY REV. A. K. H. BOYD . . . .20

CHARLES KINGSLEY . . . . . .26

"OLD TOM" AND "YOUNG TOM" MORRIS . . .36
NELLIE FARREN ....... 54

FRED LESLIE ....... 64

KATE VAUGHAN ....... 80

FATHER STANTON . . . . . .no

ERNEST WELLS . . . . . . .136

QUEEN VICTORIA AND PRINCE ALBERT . . .148
MR. ARTHUR ROBERTS . . . . . .182

CECIL RHODES ... . . 192

"DR. JIM" AND CHARLES BOYD . . . .204

MR. G. P. HUNTLEY . . . . . .224

DAN LENO ... . 240

FRED ARCHER 266

A PELICAN'S TALE

A PELICAN'S TALE

CHAPTER I

My birth and parentage. A really conscientious objector — Giv-
ing up a fortune for a belief — The start of things — Sir James
Simpson, the inventor of chloroform, helps — His sealskin
coat and waistcoat — St. Andrews days — A seat of learning —
Golf — And baps — What the head of Fettes said — Tom
Morris the Grand Old Man of Golf — " Young Tom " — A
place full of eminent people — Bishop Wordsworth and the
rook's eggs — Shedding my blood in their defence — A brief
chronicle of celebrities — Concerning Charles Kingsley —
" When all the world is young " — A modest vocalist — At
Pat's — Some famous old boys — A headmaster who believed
in leather — Sir Douglas Haig's first school — St. Andrews
heroes — The medal day on the links — Mr. Arthur Balfour as
Captain of the Royal and Ancient Golf Club — A famous play-
wright— A Royal Captain — How he forfeited the good
opinion of the golf caddies.

i

most of us the term Conscientious
Objector has no pleasant sound, and
suggests one who shamefully shirked his
job, and for the sake of his skin or his
purse, or both, placed painful, disagreeable, and
dangerous duties, rightfully his own, upon the
shoulders of others.

But there are exceptions to all rules, and when
one finds a man giving up a considerable fortune

B I?

18 A PELICAN'S TALE

and resigning very brilliant financial and other
prospects for what he conceives to be his duty,
one can at least understand his point of view, even
if one may not entirely sympathise with it.

In such case was my father, the late Very Rev.
A. K. H. Boyd, D.D., Minister of the First Charge
of the Parish of St. Andrews — such is the official
style and title — who gave up much in order to
follow the dictates of his heart, when he forsook
the English Bar to become, as his great grand-
father, his grandfather, and his father had been
before him, a minister of the Kirk of Scotland.

He was the favourite nephew of Mr. Hutchinson,
one of the greatest and most prosperous London
solicitors of his time, and had been as a young man
practically adopted by this relative. It was
planned that he was to be Mr. Hutchinson's heir,
and that he was to go to the English Bar, where,
owing to the briefs the firm could and would send
him, a second fortune seemed assured. But after
becoming a member of the Middle Temple, the
young man came to the conclusion that he was
meant for the Church, and greatly to the vener-
able solicitor's disgust, gave up his brilliant
prospects and became a clergyman, and by so
doing was promptly cut out of his uncle's will,
that legal luminary expressing the opinion that
if his nephew was mad enough to prefer the Kirk
of Scotland with no prospects to speak of, to a
practically assured position at the English Bar,

A. K. H. B. 19

he was no fit person to have the control of the
Hutchinson fortune. And there that part of the
matter ended.

Let it be said here once and for all, that my
father never for one moment regretted the course
he then took. I mention this merely because one
has several times read contrary statements made
by writers who obviously did not know their
facts.

A. K. H. B. did well by the Church of his
Fathers, and the Church did well for him in return,
for after a time she gave him one of her prize
livings, for such St. Andrews is, and in due season
called upon him to serve his year of office as
Moderator of the General Assembly, which is the
highest honour in his own calling a minister of
the Kirk can come to.

St. Andrews was A. K. H. B.'s fourth living,
for in addition to having been assistant at St.
George's, Edinburgh, he had been Minister of
Newton-on-Ayr ; of Kirkpatrick-Irongray, close
to Dumfries ; and of St. Bernard's, Edinburgh,
and it was in " Auld Reekie " on the first day, of
the second month, of the third year of the Sixties,
that I made my first appearance on any stage,
being aided in my arrival by Sir James Simpson,
an intimate friend of my parents, a great physician,
and, as everyone knows, the inventor of chloro-
form, which has done so much to deaden the agony
of suffering millions.

20 A PELICAN'S TALE

One can but dimly imagine through a mist of
horror, what a surgical operation must have been
like before the coming of chloroform, when the
unfortunate patient was dosed with whisky or
brandy till more or less senseless, was strapped
down to the operating table, and was then duly
performed upon. It is not to be wondered at
that in those days " grand " operations were
usually fatal. The marvel is that any of them
ever succeeded.

Of Sir James Simpson, whom I came to know as
a child, my chief recollections are, of his very kindly
face, his long grey hair which fell over the collar
of the sealskin coat and waistcoat, and which he,
like Du Marnier 's Svengali, always wore, and of
an unforgettable fragrance of sherry, which seemed
to be attached to him, for I was usually taken to
see him after luncheon, and the great doctor, with
sound judgment no doubt, believed in doing him-
self as well as might be at his meals.

Although I was born in Edinburgh, my earliest
recollections are of St. Andrews, whither I was
brought at the mature age of two, and where are
to be found among many other excellent things,
the oldest University in Scotland, the most famous
golf links in the world, and the finest baps in
creation ; and as such things are but little known
on this side of the Tweed, let me hasten to explain
that a bap is a species of breakfast roll of most
admirable quality, seldom to be encountered out

Rodger, St.

THE VERY REV. A. K. H. BOYD, D.I).. LL.D.

GRAND OLD TOM MORRIS 21

of Scotland, and assuredly never to be found in
greater perfection than in the Capital of Golfland,
though I recall the late Dr. Potts, first and per-
haps greatest headmaster of Fettes College, men-
tioning upon the occasion of encountering one of
these things at St. Andrews, that he had known
its equal when a boy at Shrewsbury. The state-
ment seemed to me and my brethren wellnigh in-
credible, and verging very close upon blasphemy.

Of St. Andrews children it has been said by no
less an authority than grand old Tom Morris,
most famous of golfers, who controlled the links
for many years, and whose portrait painted by
Sir George Reid, R.S.A., hangs in a pride of place
on the wall of the chief room in the Royal and
Ancient Golf Club, that they are " born with webs
to their feet and clubs in their hands/' significant
of the facts that youthful St. Andreans of both
sexes learn to swim, and to play the Scottish
national game, very early, and very well ; and,
like many another St. Andrews youngster, I
received my earliest lessons in the great game
from " Old Tom."

Even at a period when he must have been a
young man, Tom Morris was always known as
" Old Tom," no doubt to distinguish him from
the still greater golfer — perhaps the greatest
player who ever lived— " Young Tom Morris,"
champion golfer of the world for several years.1

1 It would be a privilege to write here of the two famous players,
whose names at least are familiar in whatever part of the world the

22 A PELICAN'S TALE

St. Andrews was always remarkable alike for
the number of distinguished literary people who
dwelt in it permanently, and for those who came
to see it, and then usually returned to it again
and again, for the place is full of fascination, and
Carry le spoke the bare truth when he said of it,
" Grand place St. Andrews. You have there the
essence of all the antiquities of Scotland in good
and clean condition."

To name the famous people who even in one's
own recollection were connected with the place,
would fill more space than can be spared, but one
thinks of grand looking Principal Tulloch of St.
Mary's College, of Principal Shairp of St. Salva-
tor's, of Mrs. Oliphant, of Dean Stanley of West-
minster, Mr. Froude, Sir John Millais, and of
Bishop Wordsworth, in whose trees one used to
bird-nest. In this connection I do not forget how,
upon an occasion, the fine old Bishop discovered
me descending from one of his trees, my cap full
of crow's eggs, and devoid of speech by reason
of my mouth containing another. " I know,"
said he, with great tact, placing his hand upon
my shoulder instead of on my head, " that you
wouldn't steal the rooks' eggs, and I am quite sure

game is played, but the thing has already been done so well and so
fully by my old friend the Rev. Dr. W. W. Tulloch in his admirable
Life of Tom Morris that to try to do so would savour almost of
impertinence. Old Tom was in every way a celebrity, a great and
good man. It was my privilege to write the first interview which
appeared of Tom Morris in the Dundee Advertiser at a time when
such things were regarded with greater favour than is now the case.

THE BISHOP'S REBUKE 23

you only climbed up to look at them. You see
I am an old man, and it is a great pleasure to me
to see and hear the crows. If anyone took their
eggs they might fly away, and I should feel their
going very much/'

I had risked my limbs to get those eggs, but I
risked them again to put them back, when the
dear old man had gone ; and not only did I
never again take more of them, but I afterwards
constituted myself the special guardian of the
Bishop's rookery, and shed my blood in its defence
on several notable occasions in combat with
would-be marauders.

Bishop Wordsworth was not merely a great
scholar, but was also a great athlete. He had
much to do with the institution of the University
Boat Race, and in the first of tfiese contests he
himself stroked the Oxford boat, while his brother
the Bishop of Lincoln pulled stroke for Cambridge,
and, as no doubt many persons are aware, he was
at one time Mr. Gladstone's tutor. When the
pupil became Prime Minister, it seemed likely
that anything the Church of England had to offer
might have come his way, more especially as he
would have been quite equal to it, but for reasons
which it is not needful to go into here, Wordsworth
and Gladstone had agreed to differ upon certain
subjects, and as a result a poor Scottish Bis-
hopric was the best that came the good Bishop's
way.

24 A PELICAN'S TALE

The Blackwoods of the famous magazine,
although of course mainly associated with Edin-
burgh, were also closely connected with St.
Andrews, and during the last twenty-five years of
his life, Mr. John Blackwood abode at Strath-
tyrum, a fine place within a mile of the ancient
city, while Mr. Chambers, of Chambers' Journal,
lived on and off in a house on the famous Scores,
facing the North Sea, and Mrs. Tweedale, the well-
known novelist, when Miss Violet Chambers, was
one of the earliest lady golfers to play upon the
links proper, as opposed to the Ladies' Putting
Green, up till then considered to afford strenuous
enough sport for the fairer sex.

One could go on recalling famous people in-
numerable who either lived at St. Andrews or
came periodically to it, like Mrs. Lyn Lynton,
Dean Liddell, Dr. Liddon of St. Paul's, who seeing
the grand old ruins of the cathedral, beneath the
walls of which so many illustrious sons and daugh-
ters of St. Andrews lie in their last sleep, said,
" Take my word for it, this church will be rebuilt."
It may be that one day Liddon's prophecy will
come true ; but it seems an unlikely thing for
many reasons, one that it would cost quite half
a million of money to do it.

Matthew Arnold came there, Sir Theodore
Martin, when Lord Rector of the University,
accompanied by Lady Martin, much more famous
JLS Helen Faucit, the greatest actress of her day,

I SING TO CHARLES KINGSLEY 25

Macready's leading lady, Andrew Lang, and so
on. To mention them all would be to write down
the names of many of the most distinguished men
and women of letters.

Of the coming of Charles Kingsley to the home
of my childhood, I have special recollections.
Everyone liked the author of The Water Babies,
and he loved children, a love which all his little
friends most cordially returned.

In these very youthful days I am told I pos-
sessed rather a nice singing- voice, but my modesty
was such, that I could seldom be prevailed upon
to perform outside my own nursery, and even
then my best efforts occurred while concealed
below the table, the centre leg tightly clasped to
my bosom.

One evening, after my nursery tea, I was alone
in my kingdom, my female guardian having left
me for a time, and, seated under my table, I was
singing away to myself for all I was worth, my
song being the famous " When all the World is
Young/' from The Water Babies. As I sang, a
corner of the table-cloth was pulled up, and I
saw a kindly, grave face, looking at me very
intently. The owner of the face was on his hands
and knees, and, struck dumb by the apparition, I
ceased my song with a snap. " Don't stop/' said
my visitor, " just sing me that last verse over
again/' and I said I would provided he left me
under my table and withdrew to a judicious

26 A PELICAN'S TALE

distance ; and when I had finished, the kind-
looking gentleman pulled me out from my fastness,
put me on his knee, and kissed me. And then I
saw that he had been crying. Later on in recount-
ing the happening to my nurse, and seeking for
information as to my visitor, I was told that he
was Mr. Kingsley, who had come to stay with
us for a time. He often called on me in my
nursery, and won my affection by the stories he told
me, which he said were good for me, and by the
sweets he gave me, which he was equally positive
were bad for me. However, with the sweets and
the stories we got on very well together, and
Charles Kingsley was my earliest and best-loved
hero. Little children are usually uncommonly
keen judges of character, and if they approve of a
man or woman, there is as a rule not much the
matter with either. All children loved dear
Charles Kingsley.

St. Andrews was always a famous seat of
learning, not merely for students — as the under-
graduates are called — at the University, but for
boys as well. At the present time it possesses, in
St. Leonard's, one of the largest and most famous
schools for girls in the country. In my day there
were lots of schools to choose from, for in addition
to St. Leonard's, at that time a boys' school
conducted by Dr. Browning, there were the big
Madras College, Abbey Park, Hodge's, Blunt's, and
Clifton Bank, the last named being commonly

Photo. Mason &• Co.

CHARLES KINGSLEY

SIR DOUGLAS HAIG AT SCHOOL 27

known as " Pat's " for the reason that its head-
master was Dr. Paterson, a very tall, stern,
kindly-hearted Domine of the old school, who
believed in a somewhat liberal use of the tawse,
as the leather weapon of chastisement was known.
Perhaps the cane prevails to-day in Scotland, as
it did and does in this country, but in my time of
suffering, tawse were the terror of evil-doers, and,
as I can personally vouch, were a very sufficient
reason for acquiring such knowledge as was
deemed needful. Dr. Paterson was amongst
those who cordially believed in the virtues of
leather.

It was to this school that I was sent in due
course, a school which, although not a very large
one, produced some boys who became notable
men. It was Sir Douglas Haig's first seat of
learning, and there the Commander-in-Chief of
the British Forces acquired his primary instruc-
tions, and perchance wallopings. Of this I am
unable to speak with authority, for Haig was
before my time. But another distinguished soldier
was there with me, although he was my senior in
age by a short distance, and my superior in ability
by a very long way. He was General Sir David
Henderson, K.C.B. and D.S.O. — who had so much
to do with the making of our Air Service, of which
he was Director-General for several years. As
everyone knows, Sir David is a very gallant and
distinguished soldier, and in these days when he

28 A PELICAN'S TALE

has become a great man, and can well afford to
smile at minor matters, I am sure he won't mind
my recalling the time when he was head-boy at
Pat's, and was known as " Porri Henderson/' the
nickname being a diminutive of porridge, of which
he was either inordinately fond, or held in extreme
abhorrence — I cannot now recall which.

There were other notable future soldiers among
the boys of St. Andrews at that period, and among
them one specially recalls, poor Major " Mauray "
Meiklejohn of the Gordon Highlanders, who won
the V.C. so gallantly in the Boer War and lost his
arm in so doing, and who, it will be remembered,
met his end by being thrown from a restive horse
at a review in Hyde Park, a curiously trivial and
tragic finish to so gallant a career. Then there
was Captain Ernest Towse, also of the Gordons,
who likewise gained the greatest distinction a
soldier or sailor may come by, in Africa, when
he lost his precious sight. There was Freddy
Tait, too, of the Black Watch, who gave his life
for his country in the Boer War, and was one of
the best amateur golfers who ever lived, as well
as one of the most amiable of men.

Never was there a more popular occasion on
St. Andrews links than when Freddy Tait won
the gold medal presented by King William IV
with the fine score of 78, a year which was specially
memorable in the annals of the Royal and Ancient
Golf Club, for the reason that Mr. Balfour was

MEMORIES OF ST. ANDREWS 29

Captain of the Club, and " struck off " at the start
of the competition, to the booming of the little
cannon, which is fired at the beginning and at the
finish of the Medal Day at St. Andrews.

Captain Robert Marshall, the well-known play-
wright, who died in the midst of his success, was
a Madras boy at that time, and I well remember
how he gave me the outlines of his first play Shades
of Night, and asked me to whom he should submit
it, as he was new to London stage-land at that
period. I suggested Mr. Forbes Robertson, as Sir
Johnston then was, and the piece was duly
accepted and produced by him at the Lyceum
Theatre. Afterwards in quick succession came
His Excellency the Governor, A Royal Family, pro-
duced at the Court, and other plays. Marshall's
best work was The Second in Command, which it will
be remembered had a long run at the Haymarket.
In his plays Marshall usually described circum-
stances and people he was familiar with, for he
had seen a deal of service both at home and
abroad, and had been, among other things, A.D.C.
to the Governor of Natal. Poor Arthur Playfair
the well-known actor who died so sadly at Brighton,
and who was a grandson of Sir Hugh Lyon
Playfair, a famous Provost of St. Andrews, also
spent his boyhood in the classic place.

Harking back to the Medal Day at St. Andrews,
and to many famous Captains of the Royal and
Ancient, one recalls the year when the late Prince

30 A PELICAN'S TALE

Leopold, as the Duke of Albany was then styled,
was Captain, and duly struck off on the great
occasion. Of course all St. Andrews was at the
Teeing ground to see him do the deed, but the
shot His Royal Highness made was not a specially
brilliant one, despite the coaching he had received
from Tom Morris on the previous day.

The golf caddies, keen judges of men and
matters, were there in force ready to estimate
the merits of the Prince by his stroke, and when
that occurred and was found to be somewhat
lacking, one of these candid critics, in a voice which
I fear our royal visitor must have heard, gave
vent to the historical opinion, " He may be the
Queen's son, and the deil himsel1, but he canna
play gough a damn/'

Golf is played everywhere now, and there are
links innumerable all round London, and indeed all
over the country, but thirty-five years ago, when I
first came as a lad to the Capital, those at Wimble-
don and Blackheath were the only familiar ones,
and people generally were curiously ignorant of
the most rudimentary points connected with the
game. Thus it was that a very distinguished lady
to whom I had the honour of being presented,
during my earliest days in town, expressed special
interest in my humble self because I had come
from " the Newmarket of Golf." " Now," said
she, " you can tell me whether at St. Andrews
they play with wooden or with iron golfs ? "

A DIPLOMATIC RETORT 31

It was too Herculean a task to even attempt to
enlighten such darkness, and, realizing the abso-
lute hopelessness of the situation, I merely mur-
mured : " With both/' which reply appeared to
give complete satisfaction, and all was well.

CHAPTER II

At school and what I learned — Little that was of any use to
me in after life — A knowledge of Shakespeare and how it was
acquired — A Chair of general information badly needed —
What lads of the time read — The Boys of England and The
Sons of Britannia — Jack Harkaway and Tom Wildrake — Two
wondrous heroes — What Robert Louis Stevenson thought —
My toy theatre — A youthful impressario — Something of a
chemist — An indifferent fireman — The end of my penance
— Settling my future career — The Tay Bridge disaster nearly
puts an end to this — In Germany generally and Diisseldorf in
particular — I fancy I am to be a painter — No one else does so,
however — Distinguished artists who were fellow-students —
The great day at Cologne — How old Kaiser Wilhelm com-
pleted the cathedral-The most recent Kaiser and the ridiculous
figure he cut on the occasion — What Moltke and Bismarck
thought about him — A disagreeable adventure which might
have had consequences — Von Moltke and the Wisdom of the
Serpent — Bismarck drunk, but far from incapable.

A school I learned the usual things the
average boy gets into his head during
the period of his penance, and then
gets out of it as soon as schooldays
are over, unless he goes to one of the Universities,
a thing I did not do. I acquired the regulation
indifferent knowledge of Latin, Greek, Geometry,
and the other things which I did not at the time
believe were likely to be of any subsequent service
to me, and which I am now absolutely certain
were of none. Had I devoted the same time and

32

THE BARD AS A PUNISHMENT 33

study to French, Italian, Mental Arithmetic, and
a dozen other matters of real value, I might have
derived some benefit. Of course if a lad intends
to become a doctor, a barrister, a Civil Servant,
or a clergyman, dead languages are needful
enough, but I was not destined for any of these
callings, and much of what I was compelled to
learn, with great suffering, physical as well as
mental, proved to be not of the slightest use to
me in after years.

One thing I did acquire, and I have alwa}^s
been glad of it. It was the special joy of our
Headmaster to inflict punishment on such as
deserved it by making them learn off so many
dozen lines of Shakespeare.

As a result of considerable minor evil-doing, I
know my Shakespeare fairly well, and am still
capable, upon provocation, of repeating entire
scenes from several of the best known plays.

I do not know that this knowledge is to be
specially commended. It is true it enables you
to correct your friends if by chance they are guilty
of misquotations, but as such corrections are seldom
received in really friendly spirit, and as it is still
more seldom possible to induce the doubting mis-
quoters to back their opinions with coin of the
realm, there isn't much real advantage about
this.

I have always thought that it would be a most
valuable thing if older boys in their last term at

34 A PELICAN'S TALE

school, could be given a number of pointers upon
general information. For instance, I would have
them taught the difference between a bull and a
bear on the Stock Exchange ; the correct amount
which waiters ought to be tipped at the various
restaurants, for of course there is an unwritten
scale of such things ; how one ought to comport
oneself on coming aboard a man-of-war ; what
to do when one dines at a regimental mess for the
first time ; how to play sundry games of cards,
together with the terms and expressions connected
therewith ; how to politely fend off the would-be
borrower ; and the like, all matters which have
to be subsequently learned in the battle of life,
and the learning paid for at greater or lesser cost
of coin and self-respect.

No doubt the time will arrive when in each school
there will be at least one master whose special
duty it will be to give his youthful charges really
valuable tips upon many matters, and who knows
but that we may yet come to find chairs endowed
at the 'Varsities, with professors whose classes
will be taught the exceedingly valuable matters
of how to do, and how to avoid being done. It
may come to pass ; you never can tell.

I was always an omnivorous reader, and even
at a very youthful period had accumulated quite
a large library in a small way. I don't know what
papers the youth of to-day reads, but in my time
there were many boys' weekly journals which

JACK HARKAWAY 35

found tremendous favour in the sight of the multi-
tude. Perhaps the most popular of these were
The Boys of England and its companion paper
The Young Men of Great Britain, though The Sons
of Britannia and its allied journal The Young
Briton ran them closely.

The tales contained in these journals were
mainly about highwaymen of the most dashing,
heroic, and chivalrous sort ; or of sailor heroes
who experienced the most marvellous and thrilling
adventures. Also there was usually a school
story, wherein the boys did pretty well as they
liked with their masters and everyone else, and
those of us whose memories go back to The Boys
of England and The Sons of Britannia will recollect
the serial stories " Jack Harkaway's Schooldays "
in the former, and " Tom Wildrake's Schooldays "
in the latter.

It has, I know, been stated that Mr. Harcourt
Burrage was the creator of " Dabber," the wooden
legged seaman so full of strangely mangled verse,
but certainly " Tom Wildrake's Schooldays,"
wherein Dabber figured, always purported to be
work of the editor of the paper, Mr. George
Emmet t. As a matter of fact Dickens was no
doubt the inspirer of the character, and those
familiar with " Our Mutual Friend " and Silas
Wegg who with his wooden leg was so prone to
drop into poetry for the benefit of Mr. and Mrs.
Boffin, Mr. Venus, and others, will have no diffi-

36 A PELICAN'S TALE

culty in tracing the family resemblance between
the two characters.

" Tom Wildrake's Schooldays " was a remark-
able story, and according to my recollection ran
for several years, being followed in due course by
" Young Tom's Schooldays " which was practi-
cally the same thing over again.

As for Jack Harkaway in The Boys of England,
he was a prodigious fellow, the creation of Mr.
Bracebridge Hemyng, and lasted for many years
in various forms. First there was " Jack Hark-
away 's Schooldays," then his " After Schooldays/'
" Jack Harkaway at Oxford," " Jack Harka way's
Adventures Round the World/' and so on ; and
when Harkaway had done everything, and been
sent everywhere by his author, " Young Jack
Harkaway " came into being, and the thing
started once more.

I don't suppose any papers ever endeared
themselves to lads as did The Sons of Britannia
and The Boys of England, and they must in their
day have been possessed of huge circulations.

No less a light than immortal Robert Louis
Stevenson has left it on record how much the
latter paper was to him, and for my humble self
I can truthfully say that on the night preceding
the weekly arrival of The Boys of England from
London, I hardly slept. One of my first pilgrim-
ages when I came to Town as a lad, was to Fleet
Street, for the express purpose of gazing in awe

Photo. Rodger, St. Andrews

"OLD TOM" AND "YOUNG TOM" MORRIS, THE OLD TIME
CHAMPION GOLFERS

AN IMPRESARIO 37

at the dingy office from which this greatest of
papers was published. It was something of pain
and surprise to find the building one of lesser
consequence than Buckingham Palace.

At the office of The Boys of England were to be
purchased small toy theatres, and periodically
there were issued sheets of characters and scenes
of various plays such as " Alone in the Pirate's
Lair," " Jack Cade the Rebel of London," and
others of the same sort. These sheets you coloured
for yourself, mounted on cardboard, and cut out,
that is if you were a specially industrious and
economical student of the drama.

If your soul abhorred drudgery, and your purse
ran to it, you bought your characters and scenes
" Coloured, cut out, and ready for use."

My theatre was my chiefest and dearest toy,
and on its boards I produced many a play.
My most noticeable successes as given before
audiences composed of my parents, brethren, and
such of the maid servants as could be induced to
attend my performances were " Rifle Volunteers "
and " The Waterman." I favoured these master-
pieces chiefly by reason of the fact that each of
them contained few characters, and was a work of
comparatively easy manipulation. Some of my
pieces were such stupendous productions, that
they were never fully completed, and the curtain
usually had to be lowered about half-way through.

A play of especially overwhelming proportions

38 A PELICAN'S TALE

was " The Miller and His Men," the production
of which necessitated the use of hundreds of card-
board actors, and of scenes innumerable.
" Douglas " also ran it close as a dramatic barrier
not to be lightly overcome by the most skilful
manipulator and producer.

There were trap-doors in the little stage, which
were used with great effect, and at Christmas
when of course like all well-conducted managers,
I had to produce my pantomime, red and green
fires were burnt with great effect.

Being an early devotee of chemistry, I used to
make my own red and green fire powders. Some-
times they burnt brilliantly as intended, at other
periods they either failed me ignominiously, like
Zero's bombs in " The Dynamiter/' or exploded
with considerable violence and detestable odour.

On more than one occasion my soul for realism
was rejoiced by the fact of my theatre catching
fire. As this might have led to considerably
extended conflagration, the grown-up portion of
my audience used then to evince an unholy desire
to extinguish my flames by whatever rough and
ready means occurred to them. Such, however,
was no way for a well-conducted theatre manager.
I had my own little fire engine ; with that and
nothing else should the flames be fought. Some-
times I am forced to admit the fire engine proved
not wholly equal to its task, and the results were
unsatisfactory. Articles of furniture were burnt

GOOD-BYE TO SCHOOL 39

and I myself suffered. This last I did gladly in
the cause of Art, and on the particular occasion
when I had to carry my arm in a sling as the result
of a specially big conflagration, my pride was
perhaps equalled, but certainly not surpassed, by
that of, say Mr. Arthur Collins, on the occasion
of a successfully concluded Boxing Night at
Drury Lane.

When my schooldays came to an end, and I
have never regretted their termination, my parents
could not determine what they should make of me,
and I being of a fairly even and philosophic tem-
perament, did not mind much so long as my lines
led to London. I wanted to get to the place which
Deemed like heaven on earth to me, as speedily as
possible. However, that was not to be just yet.
The son of some friends of my people was going
to Germany for a year to learn the Huns' language,
and generally finish off his education, and it was,
after much discussion, decided that I should go
along also. Before departing to the Fatherland,
something happened which nearly rendered the
idea of going there or anywhere else futile. I had
gone over to Edinburgh from St. Andrews to see
the pantomime, and in those days there was no
Forth Bridge, the Frith being crossed in a small
paddle steamer called -the John Sterling. I was to
have returned on Saturday from Edinburgh, but
a great storm arose and the boat could not cross
the Forth.

40 A PELICAN'S TALE

On Sunday morning the boat was still unable
to cross, but on enquiry at Waverley Station in
the afternoon of that day, I found that a train
would leave Edinburgh for Granton in the even-
ing, and that it was hoped a crossing to Burnt-
island might be effected.

When we got to Granton the gale was still
blowing great guns, but a number of the passen-
gers had to get to Dundee that night in order to
be in time for their work next morning, and so
the brave little John Sterling duly set out on her
distinctly perilous voyage across the Frith.

In an ordinary way the crossing should have
taken three-quarters of an hour. That night it
took two and a half hours, and at last, after con-
siderable suffering, we got into harbour at Burnt-
island, on the Fifeshire side of the Forth, and there
the Dundee train was waiting.

I had to get out at a small junction station
called Leuchars on my way to St. Andrews, the
train then going to Dundee some twelve miles
further on. It was well that I did get out there,
for the train and its passengers never reached
their destination. They got on to the big bridge
crossing the Tay, and when in the middle of it, a
specially strong gale blew the entire middle por-
tion of the bridge down, and not a soul was saved
from the terrible Tay Bridge disaster. The
present Tay Bridge is, in spite of its great length
and height, a very solid and safe creation with a

A VAIN AMBITION 41

double set of rails. The old bridge which collapsed,
was a much slighter matter and just the width of
a single line of rails. The wonder is not that it
fell down when it did, but that it stood up at all
in the frequent gales sweeping down the Frith of
Tay, which it had to face.

Later on behold me on my way to Hunland
generally, and Diisseldorf on the Rhine in particu-
lar, partly to learn as far as possible the singu-
larly brutal and hideous language of the country,
which seems so wonderfully suited to those who
speak it,and partly to acquire the polite art of paint-
ing in oil colours, for which I had shown a certain
amount of skill as an amateur, with a possible
view to adopting the calling of the painter as a
means of livelihood.

I had won the open prize for drawing at my
school and was accounted fairly ready with my
brush, but the difference between the best
amateur and the worst professional is tremendous,
and I was by no means even in the best class of
amateur artists. As a painter with any chance of
making a living at the game, it was soon very
clear to myself as well as to everyone else, that I
had not the ghost of an idea. I was a moderately
good amateur ; no more than that.

However, if I wasn't much good as a painter
myself, some of those who were with me at
Diisseldorf learning their trade, came to achieve
considerable things. My old friend Caton Wood-

42 A PELICAN'S TALE

ville, the famous military painter, was just leaving
for Paris, but among other promising students
were Lockhart Bogle, and Dudley Hardy, whose
clever work is familiar to everyone in these
days.

I dwelt in the house of an eminent professor,
one of the very few Germans I ever cared for, and
two other English lads lived there at the same
time.

It may interest people who can't quite under-
stand the Huns' hatred of us to know that even
in those days, on no single occasion can I recall
walking in the streets of Diisseldorf without the
passing school children and tradesmen's boys
calling out " verdamter Englander," which of
course signifies " Damned Englishman." These
boys are the men who fought against us in the
Big War. They hated us when they were grown-
up, but they hated us as far as they were capable
— and had been taught to hate us in school and
out of it — when they were children.

In Diisseldorf we lived the usual life of the art
students, that is to say there was a certain amount
of work, a vast deal of beer drinking, a smattering
of duelling, I myself being exceedingly careful to
be merely a spectator, a good deal of rough-and-
tumble fun, and so on. I expect young men are
pretty much the same all over the world, and
fairly objectionable to those no longer of their
own age and ways of thinking.

THE WAY OF THE HUN 43

The most memorable day to me in Germany
was that on which old Kaiser Wilhelm, grandfather
of the most recent ruler, lowered the final stone, by
means of a pulley somewhere, on to the roof of
Cologne Cathedral in the Spring of 1881.

That was a great occasion, for most of the
interesting people of Germany managed to crowd
themselves into the singularly unfragrant city.

I started the day somewhat unfortunately, for
I was at the time unable to speak the language,
and my Professor who accompanied me desiring
to send a telegram, told me to wait for him at the
corner of a street near the post office. While I
was doing so, a wretched child rushed out of a
doorway and fell over my feet on to his face. The
child's nose bled ; some idiot called out that I
had hit the little brute ; a crowd collected and
I was unable to explain matters at all. Then
one whom I presumed to be an elder brother of
the lad, shook his fist in my face and appeared to
be threatening me with various things, so I hit
him on the nose, causing that to bleed also, and
then up came a policeman accompanied by the
regulation sword, and I was being walked off, I
presume, to the nearest police station, when my
Professor happily arrived. I told him my story
and the Professor, being of some consequence in
Germany, soon straightened matters out, the
policeman saluted, I took off my hat, and we
parted quite pleased with one another.

44 A PELICAN'S TALE

I was fortunate enough to get a good place
from which to watch the big procession to the
cathedral, and it was very interesting to see the
old Kaiser, the then Crown Prince Frederick,
" Unzer Fritz," and behind them, walking in
most ridiculous fashion, and doing all he could to
attract attention, the latest Kaiser.

He was walking near Bismarck and Von Moltke
and it was interesting to see how these two really
great men regarded this strutting peacock, and
then exchanged glances with one another.

My old companion said as the Arch-Hun passed
amidst the half-shocked, half-amused glances of
the onlookers, " It's all very well to smile at him,
but there will be great trouble for us when that
young man comes to the throne." One way and
another there has been a good deal of it, not
merely for his own countrymen but for the whole
world as well.

The most memorable incident to me was quite
a small one, but it was one where in a flash you
got a sort of inkling of Bismarck's brutal nature.

As the big man walked along with great dignity,
the really outstanding figure of the entire pro-
cession, he wore his characteristic frown, and it
was impossible to help noticing the very heavy
eyebrows. Just as he passed where we were, his
foot caught on a stone and he stumbled slightly,
his dignity was upset. In a moment the immense
frowning eyebrows seemed to come down, not

BISMARCK AND VON MOLTKE 45

merely over his eyes, but over his entire face, and
when they lifted you saw an expression of abso-
lutely bestial bad temper. You felt that if the
road sweeper who had neglected to clear away
that stone had been anywhere handy, his life
wouldn't have been worth a second's purchase if
Bismarck could have had the handling of him.

Moltke, who of course was the real brains of the
Franco-Prussian War of '70 and '71, who walked
near Bismarck, was a very curious looking old
man with a dull red face lined with thousands of
wrinkles. He was, or certainly looked as if he
was, a perfectly hairless man, that is he had no
eyelashes or eyebrows, and the fair hair he wore
on the top of his withered old bald face was
his only by right of purchase. He walked along
looking very much like a singularly observant
old owl, and if he did not say much, he seemed
to think a great deal. There was precious little
which went on for a hundred yards all round
that very disagreeable old gentleman which he
did not see !

In these days of great moderation in the use of
alcohol, it is interesting to recall the fact that at
least one Chancellor of a big European Power has,
like many a lesser mortal, slept the sleep of the
inebriated on the Embankment, and though it
may shock Pro-Germans and others to know it,
that singularly disagreeable and brutal old gentle-
man, Bismarck, on at least one occasion, found

46 A PELICAN'S TALE

the neighbourhood of Cleopatra's Needle a suit-
able place whereon to recover himself after certain
too lengthy potations.

The story is an old one, is quite familiar to a
few, and there is no reason why others should not
read it now.

Everyone who knows his comparatively modern
history, is aware that " THE MAN OF BLOOD AND
IRON " was at times a stupendous toper, could
put away more liquor than most, and was more-
over exceedingly proud of his capabilities in this
regard. Beer in the days which preceded the
period when the Pilot was Dropped, was a matter
of considerable moment to him, provided it ap-
peared in sufficient quantity, and thus it was
that during one of his visits to Queen Victoria, he
caused himself to be taken over a well-known
brewery in Town.

One of the possessions of this brewery was a
glass of extraordinary amplitude, which held
several pints of liquor. It was a great feat to be
able to drink the contents right off without spill-
ing a drop, not merely because of the quantity of
liquid, but also because of the vast height of the
glass which necessitated the possession of a speci-
ally long and strong arm.

Bismarck who had lunched with great heartiness
prior to going the rounds of the brewery, was
given various samples of beer to drink, including
a little measure of a very special brew of ale, of

' I AM DROONK " 47

prodigious strength, meant of course to be drunk
in quite small quantities.

Towards the end of the big man's visit, the
famous large glass was exhibited to him, and on
being told that only twice in the memory of man
had anyone succeeded in emptying it at one
draught without spilling a drop, he at once ex-
pressed a desire to become a third hero, expressly
stipulating, however, somewhat to the alarm of
his hosts, that the glass should be filled with the
specially potent brew above alluded to.

The Hun Chancellor not only succeeded in
getting rid of every drop of the liquor in the correct
fashion, but to the amazement of the beholders,
one of them the late member of the Cabinet who
told me the story, requested that the glass might
again be filled ; when he once more did the
trick.

Then the visitors left the brewery to drive back
to the Palace, but soon after the start Bismarck
said to his special temporary monitor and guide,
" I am droonk ! "

It being plain that he was as stated, it was
considered desirable that Her Majesty's guest
should be got back to the Palace as quickly as
possible, and be put to bed for a time ; but
Bismarck would have none of this. " Take me to
the Embankment/' he said, " and let me sit down
and look at the river for two hours, and all will be
well."

48 A PELICAN'S TALE

And so he was taken to the Embankment, the
carriage being sent away and the coachman
ordered to return in a couple of hours, and there
Bismarck sat on one of the seats with his big soft
felt hat pulled well over his features, while a
couple of agonised courtiers kept watch and ward
on him from the opposite side of the road.

At the end of two hours the carriage returned,
the Hun Chancellor wakened from his reverie,
got in with no assistance whatsoever, and was
duly driven back to Buckingham Palace, and only
some half-dozen people have ever been the wiser
of the occurrence up till now.

CHAPTER III

Arranging a career — A latter-day Dick Whittington — I go to
London to become a civic millionaire — Failing the so doing,
I drift into journalism — Life at Lloyd's — A resident in
Pimlico — The dreadful significance of the name in those
days — The Pimlico vestals — Sir Charles Cayzer and Sir John
Muir — Where Cayzer threatened to send his " Clan " ships
to — His reason for not carrying out his threat — A very
conscientious interviewer — My meeting with John L. Sullivan
— The champion of the world in training for his fight with
Mitchell — How I stood up to " the big fellow " and how I
most successfully took the knock — An article on Lloyd's in
The Bat which made history at the time — Clerical friends in
high places — A kindly bishop — An impressive experience
— A guest in company with five bishops — How Bishop
Thorold lost his spectacles at the Athenaeum — Who stole
them ? — A dreadful supposition — How I became a regular
contributor to The Bat — How its editor, James Davis, fled
to France for safety's sake — How The Hawk came into being
in its place.

IT having been decided with regard to my
future, that it was wholly unlikely I should
ever succeed in passing any sort of examina-
tion whatsoever, my good parents thought
that perhaps the best thing for me would be to
get into a business office of some sort or other,
with a view to becoming, after a few years' toil,
a commercial millionaire, and no doubt in due
course Lord Mayor of the City of London.

I deemed it improbable that I should ever be
D 49

50 A PELICAN'S TALE

one or the other of these desirable things, but my
excellent father, although a very able man at his
own calling, was hopelessly innocent of all com-
mercial knowledge, and had a sort of vague idea
that the Dick Whittington Act was a quite common
occurrence even in these times.

For myself I did not much mind what happened
so long as I got to London, which had always ap-
peared to me the most desirable place in this
world wherein to abide, and so it was I was taken
to see our late local Member of Parliament, Mr.
Stephen Williamson, a wealthy Liverpool business
man, with considerable influence in the City of
London, and his assistance was duly invoked on
my behalf.

In a short time word arrived from Mr. William-
son in London, that he had secured an opening
for me in the office of one of the best known firms
of East India Merchants in the City.

Of the seven deadly years I went through in
that firm's service, I prefer to write but little. I
can truthfully say that I cordially detested every
hour of my office life during that time. The work
was hard and tedious to a degree. The prospects
were simply non-existent to a man unrelated to
one of the several partners, and the salary paid
me, even at the end of seven years of very hard,
and, according to the testimonials I received, quite
satisfactory work, was simply ludicrous, and such
as I never dreamt of offering even to junior clerks

PIMLICO DAYS 51

when I subsequently came to employ such in my
own office.

The fact is the assistants of the firm in ques-
tion were largely drawn from the sons of people
with whom the firm had business relations, who
came into our place to learn the ropes, and naturally
enough didn't care what sort of salaries they were
paid. Of course there were some elderly regular
clerks too, but they were content with very little,
and whether they were content or otherwise didn't
matter. In my own case it cost my parents a con-
siderable allowance in order that I might be
privileged to perform extensive and important
duties for the firm which was a very Scotch one
in the worst sense of the term, and gave uncom-
monly little away.

Being ignorant of many matters and of none
more so than the reputation of certain localities
in London, when I came to Town I took rooms in
Alderney Street, Pimlico.

In these days the word Pimlico conveys very
little. In the early eighties it stood for a good
deal, and its reputation was such that the name
was seldom used in polite society, those who abode
in or near it preferring to say that they dwelt in
" South Belgravia."

Briefly, Pimlico, like St. John's Wood, was the
special province of the hundreds of ladies of the
" oldest profession/' and it was difficult in those
days to light upon a house in Alderney Street,

52 A PELICAN'S TALE

Winchester Street, Cumberland Street, and the
rest, which was not to be described as "gay."
By sheer good fortune my camping ground was
quite correct, and my landlady a most well con-
ducted and worthy soul. Nowadays Pimlico is, I
believe, all it ought to be, and to have been, but
when I first knew it — well it wasn't. Let it go at
that!

I shall never forget how in the very early days
of my life in London, while paying a call on some
friends of my people, I was asked by my hostess
whereabouts I was living, and in all innocence
responded promptly and perhaps rather loudly
" At Alderney Street, Pimlico/' The drawing-
room was full of people, all busily talking, but my
magical address reduced them for several seconds
to the stoniest of silences. Women blushed
slightly and looked at their boots, men scowled
at me, and one sportsman, thinking himself out
of range of all but myself, made vigorous signs
expressive of the fact that I had committed a
very special bloomer.

Of course I knew at once I had said something
or other which I ought not to have done, but it
was only later on, when I had an opportunity of
consulting one of the sons of the house, that I
discovered that the name of my abiding locality
was like that of the Clan MacGregor, a forbidden
one.

However, when I came to know Pimlico quite

A DISPUTE 53

well, and a good deal concerning its inhabitants,
I stayed on there. It was not expensive and being
near Victoria it was very central for nearly every-
where, and this I may say, that no matter how
rowdy the fair inhabitants of the quarter may
have been elsewhere, they behaved with all possible
propriety in their own streets, and one saw little
of them excepting late at night, when of course
one ought to have been in bed, when they re-
turned from their evening constitutionals about
the Haymarket and Waterloo Place, in hansoms,
literally by the hundred.

It was soon clear to me that office work was
not the job that my soul hankered after, for its
deadly monotony was terrible, although there
were little episodes one recalls which were not
wholly devoid of humour. There was, for instance,
the occasion — it has become historical — when the
late Sir John Muir, then head of our firm, who
was a very important person in the East Indian
Commercial world, as well as Lord Provost of Glas-
gow, had a somewhat heated argument with another
personage of consequence, Sir Charles Cayzer,
chief of the "Clan'" line. Muir was a very tall
man, while Cayzer — the father-in-law, by the way,
of Lord Jellicoe — was quite small in all respects,
save in that of his enormously large head.

A dispute had arisen concerning the destination
of certain of the "Clan " boats, when little Cayzer,
standing on his tiptoes so that he might the more

54 A PELICAN'S TALE

readily reach the ears of the tall Muir, gave vent
to these memorable words, which are, I am sure,
still recalled in City shipping circles, " John Muir,
I will send my ships where I like. I would send
them to hell if it wasn't that I know you have an
agent there already ! "

About this period I had begun to write a bit for
various papers, hoping that the time might come
when I should have enough of that sort of work,
which I liked, to make it good enough to get out
of the City, which I loathed. As is the case with
most newcomers to journalism, the way was un-
commonly hard. I wrote an immense deal for
journals which, when, and if they paid at all,
paid very little. I fancy, too, I must in my sim-
plicity have done as much work for bogus pro-
prietors who never paid a farthing and never
meant to, as most writers I have come in contact
and compared notes with.

After a time as a free-lance I managed to secure
one or two regular, if ill-paid, jobs. Thus I wrote
for two or three years a weekly article of two
columns, for a provincial paper called the South
Glasgow Gazette — I don't know if it still exists
to-day — for 75. 6d. ; a weekly interview with a
topical celebrity of three columns for a deceased
weekly called The Society Times, published in
Wardour Street, for a like sum, and three columns
of dramatic notes for another weekly for 55.

The theatrical article I liked, chiefly because by

XELLIE FARREX

THE HURRICANE FIGHTER 55

its means I gained free admission to the theatres
and music-halls, and the interviewing business I
also was keen about, because of the interesting
people it brought me in contact with.

And in this connection one of my most interest-
ing subjects was the late John L. Sullivan, prob-
ably the greatest "hurricane" fighter who ever
lived. Sullivan was for many years champion of
the world, and it was when he came to this
country, and was in training for his celebrated
bare-knuckle fight with the late Charles Mitchell
that I tackled him on a memorable Sunday at
his training quarters in Windsor. Sullivan was
doing his training from a hotel therein, the Royal
Adelaide. Its landlord was the somewhat
notorious Harry Bull, better known in racing
circles as Chippy Norton the bookmaker, and my
visit to Sullivan was paid just five days before he
met Mitchell in France, to fight for the champion-
ship of the world, with what are known as the raw
'uns, which signifies with gloveless fists.

The big man who was always in those days
pretty much of a brute, was as most men are when
in hard training, 'in anything but good temper.
However, he agreed to see me, and as the Press of
the world was at that time full of the forthcoming
combat, the interview looked like being a valuable
scoop for my paper.

I duly saw Sullivan, went through part of his
training with him, asked as many questions as I

56 A PELICAN'S TALE

dared and as his trainer would allow, and no doubt
made myself as much of a nuisance as possible.

When we got back to the hotel after a hard
walk, Sullivan arrayed in a vast number of
sweaters, and he was being rubbed down by his
small army of camp followers, Chippy Norton
asked me if there was anything further I wanted
to know before the hero went to rest for a bit.

It was then that by evil fortune I sought to
enquire as to the slight injury to his right arm
which Sullivan had come by in America, shortly
before sailing for England.

He explained briefly and forcibly that he had
struck his arm against the head of his sparring
partner.

If I had been a more experienced and less
conscientious journalist, I would have let it go at
that. But I again asked to have the matter more
clearly explained to me, being desirous of having
my facts quite accurate.

"Well, you see, I hit him like that," said
Sullivan, " and he raised his head like this, and
my arm got across him so. Now do you under-
stand ? " And I was ass enough to say I did not.
" Well/' he said, " put up your hands and I will
show you." And madness having clearly come
upon me I did so.

Of course I know it was a silly thing to have
done, but at the time it never occurred to me
that Big John L. Sullivan, in hard training for

I STAND UP TO SULLIVAN 57

the championship of the world, would hit a lad
who obviously knew little or nothing of the game,
but the moment I raised my hands I became aware
by the smiles I saw out of the corner of my eye,
on the faces of those present, and by the gleam
which came in the big fighter's optics, that I was
going to get at least one smack. Naturally I was
not idiot enough to dream of hitting Sullivan, my
intention being simply to get out of the way of
the light blow which might be coming, drop my
hands at once, and say that I now clearly under-
stood how the mishap had occurred ; moreover,
there was of course the fact that I should be
standing up to John L. Sullivan with bare knuckles,
a thing which up till then no Englishman had
ever ventured to do. That counted for some-
thing !

But while I was thinking of the matter I got
my blow right enough, and it was no light one
either, for I was struck in the centre of the fore-
head so quickly that I hardly saw the blow
coming, and so hard that it lifted me right off my
feet on to a sofa some little way behind, and there
I sat for a minute or two wondering if an earth-
quake had happened, or if I had merely been
struck by lightning. It was not like a blow from
a human fist at all. It seemed exactly as if a big
blacksmith had hit me on the forehead with his
forehammer, and the next thing I recollect was
Chippy Norton holding a stiff glass of brandy to

58 A PELICAN'S TALE

my lips and asking how I felt now. I said I hoped
I should feel all right in a week or two, and seeing
that I wasn't making a song of the matter, Sullivan
shook me warmly by the hand and said :

" Well, say, anyhow no other Britisher ever
stood up like that to John L. Sullivan/'

" Very likely," I said, " and if I hadn't been a
blanked idiot I wouldn't have done it either."

Now it is something of a coincidence that a few
days after the big fight had taken place, I had a
chat with Mitchell about it, and he was describing
how one particular round had been fought, and
to make things clear to me said as Sullivan had
said before him, " Put up your hands and I will
show you." But this time I thought not ; and I
told Mitchell that I had already done this to his
adversary and that it was to him I owed the
large bruise on my forehead which was still well
to the fore. " Well," said Mitchell, " at all events
you and I are the only people in this country who
ever stood up to John with the raw 'uns." And
this is a fact although the duration of my up-
standing was just about the hundredth part of a
second.

It was while I was in the City, and one of the
representatives of my firm on Lloyd's, the big
insurance place, at the Royal Exchange, that I
wrote an article in the deceased Bat which made
a deal of talk at the time. It was called " A
Luncheon at Lloyd's," and brought in most of the

" A LUNCHEON AT LLOYD'S " 59

best known men in " the room " under thinly
disguised aliases. I worked in all the little bits of
gossip and personality that I knew about the
members, and as a result, when that week's issue
of The Bat was published, the demand for copies
in the city generally and on Lloyd's in particular
was remarkable. The paper went out of print
that week. Some of the members smiled ; others
did not, and it might have been disagreeable for
me if they had known who the author of the amus-
ing if mischievous article was. I, however, was not
desirous of acquiring fame and so kept my know-
ledge to myself, listening with interest to the
comments of those who figured in the literary
effort, and to the direful threats of vengeance
promised the unknown writer if his identity could
be discovered. Perhaps some of those who can
recall the occurrence will accept my belated
apologies now, for as Michael Finsbury in Robert
Louis Stevenson's Wrong Box says, there is
" nothing like a little judicious levity," and I
meant no real harm.

Among those who were especially kind to me
during my early days in London none was more
so than Bishop Thorold of Rochester, an old friend
of my father, and I was frequently fortunate
enough to be invited to stay at Selsdon Park near
Croydon, which was at that time the Palace of
the See of Rochester.

In the home of that kindest of men, who was a

60 A PELICAN'S TALE

widower, I was privileged to meet many digni-
taries of the Church, and on one occasion — I
think of it still with awe — I stayed there when all
the other guests, five in number, were Bishops.
The only man at table not a Bishop was Dr.
Thorold's Chaplain. Thus I was the only layman
there, and felt myself in very good and decidedly
exalted company. It was a memorable experi-
ence for a young man, and I am not likely to for-
get it, and the many intensely interesting things
I heard the Prelates discuss.

Bishop Thorold of Rochester and anon of Win-
chester, was one of Gladstone's Bishops, and on
one occasion he returned to Selsdon after spend-
ing the day in Town in considerable distress. He
had lost his spectacles, they were old friends, and
he felt their going keenly. " I can't think how it
happened/' said he. " I had them with me when
I went into the reading-room of the Athenaeum,
and I only laid them down for a second or two
while I searched my pockets to find a letter I
wanted to answer. When I looked for them they
were gone ! "

Then the good Bishop was asked who were in
the room at the time, as well as himself. " That's
the dreadful part of the story," he said, " for there
were only present the Bishop of London, the Bishop
of St. David's, the Archdeacon of Rochester, and
Mr. Gladstone ! " Who actually, by accident or
intention, collected the glasses, history does not

THE BOY AND THE BISHOP 61

state, but it is a fact that their legal owner never
cast eyes upon them again.

It may or may not have been at Selsdon too
that a rather young footman entered on his duties
the day that Dr. Claughton, Bishop of St. Albans,
came to stay there, and it was explained to the
well meaning but rather stupid lad, that when he
took up the Bishop's shaving water next morn-
ing, he was to knock at the bedroom door. The
Bishop it was believed would say " Who is there ? "
And the instructions were that the young foot-
man was to reply " The boy, my lord."

On the morning, the lad duly knocked at the
Bishop's door, and the Prelate of St. Albans
spoke his part according to the book, and called
out " Who is there ? ' whereupon the over
anxious footman responded in a voice somewhat
shaken by nervousness, " The Lord, my boy ! ''
which, as Bishop Thorold in subsequently retail-
ing the story said, was " a very alarming state-
ment ! "

I have told of my first article in The Bat which
made a certain amount of talk, chiefly of a venge-
ful nature, and it appealed so much to the editor,
the late James Davis, better known perhaps as
" Owen Hall/' the name under which he wrote
A Gaiety Girl, The Geisha, An Artist's Model, and
other triumphant successes produced at Daly's
Theatre by George Edwardes, that he asked me
to call and see him, and invited me to write regu-

62 A PELICAN'S TALE

larly for his paper, which was a sixpenny weekly
with a fairly big circulation.

The Bat was usually amusing, always more or
less enterprising, and as a rule decidedly clever,
so I was quite pleased that Davis should have
thought my work good enough for his columns,
and I did quite a lot of writing for him. Jimmy
Davis simply could not keep out of libel actions,
and one of these resulted in his going to prison,
the paper being carried on in his absence by the
late Alec Knowles, who was well known on the
Evening News, The Sporting Times, and elsewhere,
over his signature " Sir Affable/'

One article I sent to The Bat called " Cam-
bridge Conned " appeared, to my considerable
surprise, in a new paper resembling The Bat in
shape and all particulars, other than the title, for
it was called The Hawk.

With the copy of the paper came a letter from
Mr. Augustus Moore informing me that The Bat
had ceased to be, that The Hawk had taken its
place under his editorship, and that he hoped I
would continue to contribute to the paper under
its new title. Later on I ascertained that Davis,
being aware an action for criminal libel was about
to be brought against him, and being of opinion
that he did not desire to return to Holloway
Prison, had bolted to Boulogne, and there he
stayed for several years till the well-known peer
who had brought the action, forgave him, agreed

JIMMY DAVIS 63

to withdraw the summons, and permitted him to
return to London.

It was after this that Jimmy, having decided
his pen was too dangerous a weapon for himself,
when engaged in newspaper work, turned his
attention to Musical Comedy writing, with very
great success indeed. He was a clever fellow and
a most amusing one as well, and although he was
a kindly natured man, his writing could be of a
very bitter sort. Later on he became an occa-
sional contributor to a journal I edited, but
though his work was always good, it was also
usually dangerous, and one had to read every word
of it very carefully, with the largest of blue
pencils close at hand. Jimmy Davis came of a
family of clever writers, for one of his sisters is
Mrs. Aria, and another was the famous novelist
who wrote under the name of " Frank Danby,"
whose son Mr. Gilbert Frankau is rapidly follow-
ing in his distinguished mother's literary foot-
steps.

CHAPTER IV

Free of the city — How I gradually drifted into journalism —
Small happenings and how they affect one's career — I pur-
chase The Hawk on behalf of a brewer — Augustus Moore as
editor — How the brewer and his partner made £12,000 out
of a £325 investment — How I became " registered proprietor "
of the paper — Also writ-receiver in chief — A paper of many
libels — Alec Knowles and his " Wrinkles " — A remarkable
series of articles — Why they were not republished in book
form — The staff of The Hawk — Some men who got on — The
Whistler-Moore fracas at Drury Lane — How they slapped
one another to the amusement of onlookers, and did little
harm — How Charlie Mitchell, champion boxer of England,
told me a funny story " not for publication " — How it found
its way into The Hawk by way of Augustus Moore — How
Mitchell and Pony Moore subsequently called at the office to
have a heart-to-heart talk with us — The consternation of the
editor on hearing of their visit — How I decided to leave The
Hawk and start The Pelican — A wise move which proved a
highly satisfactory one in after years.

COWARDS the latter end of my seven
long years in the City, I had come to
have so many regular journalistic jobs
that my life had become one of con-
siderable slavery. So much had to be written
each week, that after my day's work in the City
I had to tackle my scribbling, and keep on at it
till all sorts of hours next morning. Sunday
instead of being a day of rest had become one of
additional toil, and one way and another the

64

FRED LESLIE

A FIRST NIGHT 65

game did not seem good enough, so I decided to
take my courage in both hands and let the City
take care of itself without further interference
from me, devoting myself entirely to such writing
jobs as I had already got, or might further obtain.

Just about this time, too, Fate sent me a
regular engagement in a newspaper office, which
quite decided my course of action.

It is curious how a very small matter may
affect one's subsequent career, and it was through
a casual visit to the Old Globe Theatre one
evening, to see a new first piece, that I first met
Mr. W. Morley Pegge.

Mr. Pegge had at that time but recently
married Miss Florence Sutherland, a member of
Mr. Edward Terry's theatrical company, and I
had had the privilege of meeting her some time
before. It was she who made me known to her
husband, and after the theatre, the Pegges invited
me to supper at their flat in Victoria Street, and
it was then and there Mr. Pegge explained to me
that his chief reason for desiring my acquaintance
was not so much on account of my plain looks or
pretty ways, as because he wanted to find out
certain facts about The Hawk, the sixpenny
weekly paper to which I have already alluded,
and he believed I could give him the information
he desired.

Briefly, Mr. Pegge wanted to become a news-
paper proprietor, and thought he saw a chance of

66 A PELICAN'S TALE

turning several honest pennies in the accomplish-
ment of his scheme. If there was one thing Mr.
Morley Pegge understood better than another it
was the polite art of making a bargain with as
little trouble to himself as possible.

Mr. Pegge had been a brewer, and had recently
had a good deal to do with the conversion of
J. Nunnerley and Co. of Burton-on-Trent.

He wanted to know if The Hawk could be pur-
chased from its then proprietor, Mr. John Gretton,
a barrister, who later on came to be intimately
associated with Colonel North, the Nitrate King.
I knew that Mr. Gretton was most desirous of
getting rid of his property, which was at that
time being edited by Alec Knowles, Augustus
Moore, the previous editor, having had his services
dispensed with.

Pegge believed that Moore, a brother, by the
way, of Mr. George Moore the novelist and dog
champion, was the right man to run The Hawk
and invited my opinion as to this. I agreed that
he was. Would I tackle Gretton, find out what
he wanted for his property, secure Moore's
services as editor, become manager, sub-editor,
and registered proprietor myself, at a certain
salary ? I would, and I did.

The first number of The Hawk had been pub-
lished on February 7th, 1888, and it was in the
autumn of that year that I began my negotiations
with Gretton, and after much discussion, for there

A SUCCESS 67

were many complications, and sundry libel actions
pending against the paper, I purchased The Hawk
on behalf of Pegge for the exceedingly small sum
of £325, clear proof that its owner was reasonably
glad to be rid of his property. I had previously
secured the services of Moore, whom I found
intensely willing and desirous of returning to
his old job, and almost painfully full of thanks
and apparent gratitude to me for helping him to
do so.

Various amounts have been stated in print as
the sum paid for The Hawk on that occasion. The
above is the correct one, and I ought to know for
I signed the cheque myself on the National Pro-
vincial Bank, Lincoln's Inn. Mr. Pegge's remark-
able financial luck stuck to him in his newspaper
investment. The paper began to pay almost at
once, chiefly by reason of the extraordinary boom
in Prospectus advertisements which occurred
about this time and lasted for several years after-
wards, to the great glory and satisfaction of quite
a number of hitherto struggling journals. Week
after week The Hawk used to come out with
eight or ten pages of prospectuses all paid for at full
scale rates, and Moore, who was in his way an
undoubtedly clever man, and next to Jimmy
Davis just the right editor for a newspaper of the
kind, did his portion of the business very well.

A series of articles of quite remarkable ability
and versatility which did a lot for the paper,

68 A PELICAN'S TALE

called " Wrinkles, being a series of letters from
Sir Affable Hawke to his nephew Tommy Hawke
on starting his career in London/' attracted a lot
of attention. They were written with real " in-
side " knowledge, and dealt with all sorts of
subjects, people, and phases of life, as it was then
lived in Town. They were very cynical, very
worldly, full of information of a marvellously
versatile sort, and were really clever. Moore was
supposed to have written them all. As a matter
of fact he wrote three or at the most four, the
majority of them being written from his own
information, or " from information received " as
the police witnesses say, by Alec Knowles, who
for many years afterwards used to sign his con-
tributions to various papers " Sir Affable/'

The " Wrinkles " were so good and so popular
that in response to numerous suggestions from
the public, Morley Pegge considered the re-
publishing of them in book form. On consultation
with Moore, that gentleman agreed the idea would
be a good one, provided his name appeared on the
title page as their author ! Naturally Knowles
would not hear of this and the scheme fell through.
Moore certainly had a deal to do with the success
of The Hawk at one time, but he was not its
entire source of triumph by a very long way.

The clever paragraphs at the start of the paper
were always a strong feature of The Hawk's
contents. They usually contained real news,

A GALAXY OF TALENT 69

were genuinely clever and amusing, except to the
persons written about, and were sometimes
libellous. My old friend Mr. James Glover of Drury
Lane celebrity was one of the most prolific writers
on The Hawk and was responsible for most of the
theatrical notes. In those days friend James was
a tall, rather thin, hatchety faced young man,
very different in outward seeming from what he is
to-day. Others who wrote more or less regularly
for the paper were Francis Gribble the well-known
author, who had so disagreeable an experience at
the hands of the Huns in Ruhleben, Justin Huntley
McCarthy who had not then married Miss Cissie
Loftus, Clement Scott, the famous dramatic
critic of the Daily Telegraph, James Runciman
(John A'Dreams), Bernard Shaw, Charlie Williams
the War Correspondent, George Moore the novelist,
A. B. Walkley, at that time dramatic critic of the
Star, and now employed in similar capacity on
The Times, Robert Hichens, Frederick Greenwood,
Henry Murray, brother of the famous Christie,
Herbert Collinson, and several others.

That Mr. Pegge did not do badly, financially,
with The Hawk may be taken from the fact that
some six months after he had had the paper pur-
chased for him for £325, he sold half a share of it
to Mr. Frank Harris at that time editor of The
Fortnightly Review, for £3,500. Later on Pegge
and Harris sold their property to a syndicate, in
which were Clement Scott and George Edwardes

70 A PELICAN'S TALE

among others, for £12,000. At least that was the
sum reported. I fancy it was not all in cash
however. Still the sellers did uncommonly well
out of their bargain, for even at that time the
paper had passed the high- water mark of its
financial success, and soon after began to decline
slowly and surely owing to a variety of circum-
stances.

It was Whistler the artist who first wrote of
" The Polite Art of Making Enemies/' and cer-
tainly Augustus Moore possessed the faculty of so
doing to an extraordinary degree. He was not a
particularly unkind man in himself, but his fatal
faculty of saying cruel and needless things in his
paper, and of persistently making enemies, stood
in the way of his success, and when things went
somewhat awry with him, and when The Hawk
was secured by a new proprietorate which had no
use for his services, and when help generally
would have been very welcome, it was just not
given.

As " Registered Proprietor " of The Hawk it
was my privilege to receive the writs for libel, and
these were ludicrously frequent of arrival, for
Moore's recklessness, both of writing and editing,
led to lots of employment for the " professional
quarrellers." Of course these libel actions, actu-
ally mattered very little to me, for on receipt of
the writs I merely sent them on to George Lewis,
the solicitor who acted for the paper, and notified

WHISTLER AT FISTICUFFS 71

Pegge, who did most of the worrying, and had
the fun of paying the lawyer's very considerable
charges.

Moore and I worked in one room at a couple of
tables, and though I have no desire to say any-
thing unkind of a dead man, I cannot help record-
ing the fact that we had no specially brotherly
love for one another. I don't know which of us
was to blame. Perhaps both.

One of the few things recollected about Moore
to-day is, no doubt, the diminutive combat which
took place between him and Whistler, the cele-
brated artist, in the foyer of Drury Lane Theatre.
Moore did not knock Whistler down as he stated
in print, on several subsequent occasions. What
happened was that after hitting Moore once or
twice with the small cane he carried, Whistler
made a specially energetic cut, missed his man,
tripped over the foot of Charles Brookfield, who
accompanied him, and fell.

I was the only person present as an onlooker
at the start of the proceedings, and saw the entire
entertainment from beginning to end, and accord-
ing to a fairly vivid recollection neither man
looked much of a hero, and there seemed to be a
good deal of let-me-get-at-him-hold-me-back about
the pair of them. Whistler was very red and ex-
cited, Moore was ghastly pale and looked as if lie
were going to faint. However, the old enemies
are gone now : peace be to them both.

72 A PELICAN'S TALE

Moore, who fancied himself as a boxer, although
I for one never saw the slightest evidence of his
ability in this regard, nearly had a chance of
giving an exhibition of his qualities at The Hawk
office one day, but discretion proved the better
part of valour all round, and nothing happened.

What occurred was this. Meeting the late
Charles Mitchell, at the time champion boxer of
England, late one evening, that hero regaled me
with an account of an escapade which he had taken
part in. There is no occasion to recount his story
here. Let it suffice to say that it was a rather
brutal, but at the same time, amusing story, and
as he told it to me, Mitchell said, " Remember
this is in confidence, and not for the paper/'

In an evil moment I repeated the story to
Moore the next day, the day, by the way, on which
The Hawk went to press. I explained that the
story had been told me in confidence and was not
for publication, and I understood him to give me
his word that he quite realised the position of
matters.

Considerably to my surprise, when I looked at
the contents of The Hawk the following morning,
there was the Mitchell story told at great length,
and considerably embellished with a number of
disagreeable comments about the pugilist.

In those days, Mitchell was a man of somewhat
hasty temper, and so I foresaw trouble ahead.
Of course he would believe that I had broken my

CHARLIE MITCHELL ARRIVES 73

word, and about this I naturally felt very uncom-
fortable.

I became no happier shortly after my arrival
at The Hawk office, when a clerk appeared and in
a very agitated manner told me that two gentle-
men desired to see me, " but/' he added, " if I
were you, sir, I wouldn't see them. They seem
very angry. " " Did you ask their names/' I said.
" Oh yes/' he replied, " they are Mr. Charlie
Mitchell and Mr. ' Pony ' Moore."

Now the idea of seeing these two pleasant, but
at the time irate visitors, without a witness of our
meeting, pleased me not at all. I did not mind
anything that might be coming to me if I had
someone else to look on, and so knowing that
Moore would probably turn up at about half-past
twelve, I told the clerk to say I was out, but
would be back, and glad to receive my visitors at
one o'clock.

When Moore arrived, I told him as directly as
I could, what I thought of his action in failing to
keep faith with me, but he could not see that he
had done anything out of the common. " After
all, what does it matter ? " he said. " It was too
good a story to miss. Mitchell won't see it, and
even if he does he won't dare to come here."
" Won't he ? " said I. " Well, it may interest you
to know that he has been here already with his
father-in-law, Pony Moore, and they are coming
back at one o'clock." " Are they, by Jove," said

74 A PELICAN'S TALE

Moore, " then I'm off. I'm not going to stop here
and have a row with those people. Outside is
good enough for me. You had better clear too."

I said I would do nothing of the kind, and that
now I had made things plain to him, I would stop
and meet Mitchell and Moore when they came,
tell them the exact facts of the matter, and take
my chance of whatever was going to happen.

I waited on till two o'clock but no one turned
up. Later on I heard that the festive pair had
gone to Romano's after their first call, and had
stayed there for some time, and- no doubt the
soothing influences of the Roman's very old
brandy had made them think of better things than
of returning to lay me out.

It was several years afterwards before I had a
chance of explaining matters to Mitchell, and as
he said it was just as well they had not come
back, for no matter what he himself might have
done or left undone, "Pony" would certainly
have had my gore. I don't know if Moore after-
wards encountered Mitchell. If he did, he didn't
brag about it to me, or so far as I know to any-
one else.

One way and another there was a deal of liveli-
ness in being attached to The Hawk ; rather
more than I cared for, in fact. I did not mind
making such enemies as I required for myself,
but I did object to having them made for me at
the rate of some six or eight a week.

I PLAN A PAPER 75

It was also becoming clear to me that there
was precious little money to be made by writing
for someone else's paper, and it might be more
profitable, and certainly more interesting, to
possess a journal of one's own. Thus I made my
plans for starting The Pelican, and when I had
got these all cut and dried I resigned my position
on The Hawk and cleared out with the liveliest
satisfaction to myself, and I doubt not to that of
my editor as well.

CHAPTER V

Starting on my own account — The creation of The Pelican —
How The Tattler — with two t's — did not help matters — A
scheme which failed — The first money taken — Where it dis-
appeared to — How the paper came by its title — Serving on a
jury — If likely to be convicted, be careful in the selection of
your judge ! — The finish of The Hawk and the success of The
Pelican — The death of " The Smart Paper for Smart People "
— Wise advice from George R. Sims — " Dagonet " on the
folly of making enemies — How The Sporting Times and The
Pelican nearly became amalgamated — " Tale- Pitcher " Bin-
stead — A real humorist — " The Dwarf of Blood " — How
Colonel Newnham-Davis came by his style and title — Bessie
Bellwood's pantomime — The " Dwarf " as a cookery genius
— His famous Guy Fawkes dinner, and those who were
present at it — A born story-teller — A very distinguished
admirer of " Pitcher " — How he was mistaken for a German
spy — His singularly apt retort.

1 SUPPOSE that almost every journalist, at
some time or other, desires to own and
edit a paper, just as every actor wants to
be a manager, and give himself the sort of
parts he believes he is best suited to ; and so it
was not out of the common that I should have
decided that the way to a sufficiency of " the root
of all evil," to keep me when the time came when
I should tire of work, was to create something
for myself.

Being a contributor to journals was well enough
in its way, and I had been reasonably fortunate.

76

EARLY STRUGGLES 77

Sub-editing was all right too, but what I wanted
was to be Commanding Officer of my own ship,
and I desired, moreover, to know that at least a
portion of whatever my work was producing was
actually going to come my way.

And so I started The Pelican, and on November
2nd, 1889, the first number thereof was born at
84 Fleet Street, with Punch as a next-door neigh-
bour.

I started with no preliminary advertisement or
heralding, principally because I couldn't afford
the former very costly matter, but, all the same,
the little paper, apparently, filled the regulation
" long-felt want/' alluded to by most new periodi-
cals, for it was a success from its first issue.

In subsequent years, every now and again, a
specially eagle-eyed correspondent used to write
and point out that though he or she had acquired
a copy of the first number, they were greatly
puzzled to find it stated thereon that it was
" No. 115, Vol. 5." The reason was a very simple
one, and was thuswise.

In those days it was — and perhaps still is — a
matter of difficulty to get a new paper on to the
bookstalls at its start, for the newsagents said,
rightly enough, " Wait till the public ask for it,
and we will take it ; but not till then."

Wherefore I thought of a plan to get on to the
stalls, especially the railway bookstalls, right
away. I purchased for a small sum, a paper

78 A PELICAN'S TALE

which was dying, but which possessed the advan-
tage of a place in the bookstall sun. It was a
penny paper with an orange coloured cover, like
the familiar Pelican contents' bills, and it was
called The Tattler, spelt, you will notice, with two
t's, unlike friend Clement Shorter's well-known
weekly. I produced one number of The Tattler,
and stated in large letters on the wrapper thereof,
that the title of the paper would be changed to
The Pelican, the cover would become brown — I
copied this idea from the old Bat — and numerous
other alterations and improvements would be
made ; and thus I hoped all was going to be well,
and when W. H. Smith and Son, Willing, and the
other big wholesale agents, sent in their orders
the following week for Tattlers, they were given
Pelicans instead.

But the scheme was a ghastly failure. The
newspaper distributing magnates would have
none of us. They returned their Pelicans and
said they had not ordered them, and so the money
spent on the purchase of The Tattler went for
nothing. That was my first smack in the eye in
connection with my new venture. I got a good
many of these one way and another ; as I no

doubt deserved.

•

However, although the newsagents wouldn't
have us on the morning of our birth, the public
having got to hear about us, somehow or other,
and having started to ask at the bookstalls con-

COUNTERFEIT 79

cerning our whereabouts, the agents sent in orders
during the afternoon of the same day, and The
Pelican duly found itself displayed among the
other journals on the railway station and other
bookstalls, and so all was well, honour was satis-
fied, I and a cousin-partner shook hands with one
another, and said, " Well, hang it all, at any rate
we have started/'

It was a curious omen, and one which I did not
regard favourably at the time, to find from our
publisher that the first money actually taken
over the publishing office counter was a bad two-
shilling piece. My dear old friend, Arthur Bin-
stead, famous all the world over as " Pitcher " of
The Sporting Times, and as the first editor of
Town Topics would have it that great good luck
was clearly heralded by the advent of the spurious
coin. " Pitcher " was one of the most really
humorous writers I ever knew. He was an actual
genius in his way, and singularly superstitious,
although he always believed he wasn't.

The base coin was duly nailed to the counter as
a warning to all future would-be evil-doers that
we had already had some. Sometime after it was
found to be gone. Someone had stolen it ; and I
devoutly trust he subsequently got locked up
for attempting to pass it, as he no doubt tried
to do.

And talking of this sort of thing recalls how the
sentences awarded to criminals so often vary

8o A PELICAN'S TALE

mysteriously in degree according to the judge who
tries the cases.

Thus, not very long ago, I was a juryman at
the Central Criminal Court, when a case which
came before my jury-brethren and myself, was
that of a hero who had defrauded a considerable
number of persons of very large sums. We found
him guilty, and he received a sentence of three
months' imprisonment from a very lenient judge.

Later on the same day I again juried, when an
unfortunate lad was tried for passing a bogus ten
shilling Money Order. This time Mr. Justice
Avory, the judge who tried the case, considered
that justice would not be arrived at with a smaller
sentence than fifteen months ; and this he duly
awarded the luckless young fellow, luckless,
chiefly, according to my way of looking at matters,
that his case came before the latter, instead of the
former judge.

But to return to our mutton. Many people
have asked why the journal was called The Pelican,
and the reason was thuswise. The paper pur-
ported to be one for men-about-Town, and all the
young men at that time were members of the
famous Pelican Club, and when we were casting
about for a suitable name for our new paper it
was suggested that The Pelican would be a good
and expressive title. Another name cropped up
and was thought a good deal of, and so a week
before the paper was published, we tossed up which

KATE VAUGHAX

A SMART PAPER 81

of the two names it should have, and by reason
of ha_ a crown, produced for the purpose, by the
way, by the late Duke of Manchester, then more
familiar to many as Kim Mandeville, falling tail
upwards, the paper was duly christened The
Pelican.

I fear the beginning of The Pelican was also the
ending of The Hawk, for people found they could
get pretty much the same sort of news in The
Pelican for a penny, that they got in The Hawk
for six times that sum. Anyhow after going down
hill, more or less unsteadily, for some years, The
Hawk, which among other things had prophesied
three months of life for its smaller rival, ceased to
be and died the death.

I don't think its end was regretted by many,
for during its time on earth the paper had managed
to make quite a remarkable number of enemies,
who openly rejoiced at its downfall. It called
itself " A Smart Paper for Smart People/' and
assuredly it used to make a lot of people smart
each week. Of course it amused some persons to
see their best friends attacked or held up to ridi-
cule, and perhaps the so doing sold a few extra
copies, but by the following week, the attacks
were all forgotten — except by the persons at-
tacked.

They remembered them, naturally, and when
the chance came of getting a bit of their own
back, they took it with great promptitude and

82 A PELICAN'S TALE

satisfaction, and with at least equally disastrous
results to the paper.

Having seen the suicidal folly of making
enemies, and of having them made for me, during
my connection with The Hawk, I made up such
mind as I possessed that the policy of The Pelican
should be to be fairly smart and spicy — hateful
words, but I know of none better to explain my
present meaning — and at the same time though
not being too indefinite, to make as few enemies
as possible, and as many friends as I could.

Any ass with a paper, or perhaps without one,
can make enemies ; that I am convinced of, for
it is simplicity itself to be rude to people, whether
you are an editor, or the follower of any other
trade. On the other hand, it is difficult to make
friends and to keep them, and if there is one thing
I am more glad of than another, in my over twenty-
eight years' connection with The Pelican, it is,
that while I believe I made very few enemies, I
know I made many kind, loyal, and valuable
friends, for the paper and for myself.

I remember well in this connection how my
good friend, George R. Sims, the world famous
" Dagonet " of The Referee, early in The Pelican's
career took me into a corner of the big room of
the old Eccentric Club one night, and gave me a
most valuable talking to.

Said he, among much other kindly and greatly
valued advice, "Don't make more enemies than

A COSTLY VENTURE 83

you can help ; you can easily make them and they
will never do you any good. Make all the friends
you can — that's the clever thing to do." Well,
that was the idea I did my humble best to follow
during the time The Pelican was under my charge,
and it was a plan which proved reasonably satis-
factory.

Twenty-eight years is a longish time in the life
of a paper like The Pelican, and the fact that I
kept it going in my possession for that time, is
the best answer as to whether it was a success or
not. A paper is a costly thing to produce, and
you may take it that if it had not been worth
doing, it would not have been done. Whether the
success was deserved or not is of course another
story, and hardly one for me to try to tell. Many
people were good enough to offer to become my
partners during the time The Pelican was in my
hands, and on several occasions I could have been
relieved of it altogether, on quite satisfactory
terms, but I liked the work, hard though it was,
and got a vast deal of interest and amusement
out of it.

At one time John Corlett, then proprietor of
The Sporting Times, had a scheme for my joining
forces with him, and running the two papers
under one control, but though John's special
friend on his staff, Colonel Newnham-Davis, the
dear old " Dwarf of Blood/' also did what he could
to push the idea along, I held to the plan that I

84 A PELICAN'S TALE

would prefer to hoe my own furrow, which I did,
till finding I had had enough of the game, and
desired to take things more easily, and, moreover,
having achieved the sum of coin of the realm
which I had set out to secure, I sold the Brown
Bird to a syndicate headed by Mr. Charles Higham,
who is now editing the paper in its new form so
capably and well.

Few men were better known, in what he used
to term ' ' Clean shirted Bohemia " than Newnham-
Davis, and indeed it is only the bare truth to say
of him that he was one of the most popular all-
round men in London. He had been a Harrow
boy, and when he joined the famous Kent regi-
ment, The Buffs, he saw a deal of service in South
Africa, China, and India. It was in Simla that he
became famous as an amateur actor, and when he
left the Service and came home finally, in '94, he
became a member of the famous Old Stagers,
who used to give performances at Canterbury,
during the Cricket Week.

While he was in India, Davis used to con-
tribute periodically to The Sporting Times, and
when he came home for good, John Corlett
secured his weekly services, and his signature
" The Dwarf of Blood " became a regular feature
in the paper. For " Master " he also edited The
Man of the World for a time, and was later practi-
cally editor of The Pink 'Un, which he under-
stood he was ultimately to control ; but Corlett

THE DWARF OF BLOOD 85

somewhat suddenly disposed of the paper, to
Mr. de Wend Fenton, and the old staff moved off
and started Town Topics, with " Tale-Pitcher "
Binstead as editor, and Mr. Kennedy Jones, M.P.,
as proprietor.

How " The Dwarf of Blood " came by his curious
signature has been told before, I know, but here is
how it actually came about, once more.

After a certain supper party, the revellers ad-
journed to the house of Miss Bessie Bellwood, at
that time by far the most popular and famous
lady music-hall singer in London, and a highly
remarkable impromptu pantomime was there and
then produced. The " orchestra " was furnished
by one of the best-known composers of the day,
seated at the piano, while certain lights of the
peerage, the Household Brigade, and Fleet Street,
collaborated in the libretto.

Poor Bessie herself became principal boy, and
pretty Kate Leamar, of the famous " Sisters
Leamar " was the heroine. The " comedians "
were mainly men who have achieved eminence in
other callings, and might feel coy about having
their artistic endeavours recalled now, so we will
let them go.

Newnham-Davis, like the man in A Pantimime
Rehearsal " Wanted to act/' but the cast seemed
complete, till Bessie, seldom at a loss for long,
said, " I know ; you shall be the Dwarf of Blood,
come out from under the table and groan at the

86 A PELICAN'S TALE

right time." And so things were. The name
stuck to Newnham-Davis, and he was ever after-
ward " The Dwarf " to his many friends all over
the world.

When Romano, proprietor of the famous Strand
Restaurant, died, Newnham-Davis and Walter
Pallant, were the two prime movers in the re-
generation of the place, and in the formation of
the company which came to own it. Davis was a
remarkable authority on cookery of all sorts and
kinds, and his " Dinners and Diners " articles in
the Pall Mall Gazette attracted a deal of attention
when they were published. He was also one of
the founders of Le Touquet as it now is, wrote a
musical comedy for George Edwardes, called My
Lady Madcap, and with the proceeds thereof
built the delightful Chalet Madcap in the Forest
of Le Touquet, in which I, according to a lengthy
promise, was his first guest.

" The Dwarf " used to delight in giving odd
little dinner parties, and one of them which comes
back to me vividly, was his famous Guy Fawkes
dinner in a certain upper chamber at Romano's,
when Mr. Teddy Bayly was manager of the place,
previous to Luigi's successful reign.

In the centre of the table, seated on a barrel of
gunpowder was a big life-sized guy, while each of
the guests had his own special guy facing him.
Thus John Corlett's was a neat Little Pink 'Un
jockey. Sir Frank Burnand's was a " Punch/'

A GOOD STORY-TELLER 87

which paper he was then editing. Bob Martin's
was a Ballyhooley Irishman. Sir Douglas Straight,
then editor of the Pall Mall, had an elaborate
Native in front of him, in commemoration of his
services in India. The guy of my old school-
fellow, Captain Robert Marshall, the delightful
playwright was a " Second in Command/' while
my good friend George R. Sims was faced with a
wild-haired Tatcho golliwog, and your servant by
a cheerful looking " Sunny Jim " reading an exact
little copy of The Pelican in a brown cover.

Of Arthur Binstead, who was mainly concerned
with The Dwarf, and Mr. Horace Lennard, in
starting Town Topics, one can truthfully say he
was that very rare mortal, a genuine humorist.
There was no midnight oil about his literary fun ;
it was all perfectly natural and spontaneous — or
at least gave you the idea of being so.

He was one of the best story-tellers I ever knew,
and I have had the good fortune to know some of
the most famous of our time ; and he could make
more out of slight material than any man of my
experience. It was only when you heard someone
else try to repeat a story you had heard " Pitcher "
relate, that you quite realised the genius of the
original teller.

His articles and newspaper stories were good ;
his books, such as A Pink 'Un and A Pelican,
Gal's Gossip, Mop Fair, Pitcher in Paradise, and
the rest, even better ; but best of all was to hear

88 A PELICAN'S TALE

him tell at first hand, the latest story he had
come by, or invented, to a few appreciative
listeners.

He delighted in telling a good story and telling
it really well, just as much as his listeners liked
hearing it. He was in his own particular way a
great actor, and the slight gestures, the quaint
expressions of countenance, with which the climax
of the tale would be reached, are things one re-
calls with sad pleasure, when one remembers that
the teller is among those who have " gone on
ahead/'

Among the many admirers of "Pitcher's"
writings none was more sincere than a very dis-
tinguished scholar, at one time a Professor of
St. Andrews University, and not long ago a
certain interfering person in an omnibus, passing
Kensington Church, and not apparently liking his
appearance, bent over to the Professor and said,
" Excuse me, sir, but you look very like a German
spy ! "

The one time professor gazed at the speaker
with interest for a moment, and then replied in
anything rather than the expected foreign accent,
" Excuse me, sir, but you look very like a German
sausage ! " and then the conversation came to a
very abrupt termination.

CHAPTER VI

Our first big " scoop " — The Tranby Croft affair — What Edmund
Yates said about it — Also what the eminent solicitor thought
— How we cornered the " Baccarat scandal " market for a
time — The author of the articles — No harm in mentioning
his name now — Some Pelican contributors — Willie" Wilde of
The Daily Telegraph — His marriage to Mrs. Frank Leslie,
the great American newspaper proprietress — His neglected
opportunities of great things — A very different man from
his notorious brother Oscar — Oscar Wilde's desire — How
it went unfulfilled — His subsequent appearance at the Old
Bailey — His departure therefrom to do " two years hard " —
Some murder trials — The Milsom-Fowler affair at the Old
Bailey — How Fowler nearly murdered Milsom in the dock —
A real sensation scene — The Tichborne Claimant — What he
said — Fleet Street swindlers — Bogus advertising agents who
preyed on new papers — I suffer from them — And some of
them suffer from me — The simple art of protecting oneself
— Sometimes an easier matter than calling in the police —
How it answered in my case.

FOR the benefit of those ignorant of the
language of Fleet Street, I beg to say
that a " scoop " is journalese for a piece
of exclusive information. It is an occa-
sion when you get ahead of your fellows with
your news, and naturally in a paper which only
comes out once a week, the chances of getting in
front of the morning and evening journals are
limited.

However, we managed to bring off quite a

89

go A PELICAN'S TALE

number of " scoops " in the Pelican at various
times, and one of the earliest of these which called
attention to the paper, and did its circulation a
deal of good, was what was known as the Tranby
Croft baccarat scandal.

As will no doubt be still remembered, one of
the house-party at Tranby Croft, the abode of
the Wilsons, the big shipping people, was accused
of cheating at baccarat, and as those staying
there at the time included King Edward, then
Prince of Wales, and a number of well-known
people, the matter created a deal of history at the
time, more especially as it ultimately found its
way into the Law Courts, and there was a very
considerable to do, which greatly infuriated that
pink of propriety, Queen Victoria, who hated
anything and everything of the kind.

It will be recalled that it came out in course of
the evidence in Court, that the entire house-party
were sworn to secrecy concerning the happening,
but some of them certainly talked.

No doubt one man, or woman, told the story
to his or her chief friend, in confidence, then he
or she passed it on in the same fashion, and soon
people were all whispering and nodding their
heads about the mystery, concerning which few
of them knew precise details. Then, one fine day
— I am talking of course of the period prior to the
trial — out came The Pelican with the whole story,
with dates, chapter, and verse, and a considerable

A SCOOP 91

sensation was produced. To start with, the paper
promptly went out of print that week, and a
second edition had at once to be put in hand.
Half the editors of the London daily papers sent
along their special men to see me, in order to
obtain further pointers, and my good friend
Edmund Yates of The World, sent a note along
commanding my presence at once at York Street,
Covent Garden, where The World office then was.

When I saw the good Edmund he promptly
said, " My boy, you have either got hold of a very
big thing indeed, or you have ruined yourself, and
spoilt your paper for all time. Sit down and tell
me all about it." But greatly as I liked Mr. Yates
this seemed rather too much to expect and I told
him so. I said that if he had read my issue of the
current week, he knew all I had to tell so far, but
that in next week's number I should have more
to say, and then I resisted, as diplomatically as I
knew how, the good " Atlas' " best efforts to
pump me.

I knew that from a newspaper point of view, I
had got a plum, and I meant to stick to it, as long
as possible. And this I did.

A very eminent solicitor, who was later on
engaged in the legal proceedings connected with
the matter, honoured me with a visit, to point
out that I shouldn't have printed anything of the
sort I had done, without first having consulted
him on the matter, and suggested vaguely that if

92 A PELICAN'S TALE

I had done so, it might have been considerably to
my benefit. I sat quietly and listened to what he
had to say, for he was a much older man than
myself, but I very steadfastly declined to give
him the source of my information, although I was
well aware of the very distinguished personage
for whom he desired it, and this, too, in spite of
considerable inducements held out to me to talk.

As a matter of fact, now that the whole thing
is over, and the writer of the article, like so many
of the persons concerned in the affair, is no more,
there is probably no harm in saying that " The
Tranby Croft affair " and the succeeding articles
dealing with it, were written by Jimmy Davis,
better known to playgoers as " Owen Hall/1 and
he got his information from one of the persons
actually present at the happening.

It was interesting to see how the other papers,
daily as well as weekly, came out with mere
repetitions of our facts, and had to wait on from
week to week, in order to give their readers fresh
" news." The matter was not merely an ordinary
" scoop " for us, but was one which we kept
entirely to ourselves for three weeks. We had
got at the only source of information which could
be tapped, and we held on to it tightly, so long as
it was of any use to us. It was, as Edmund Yates
had said, " a very big thing " for us, and did the
paper a deal of good, bringing it well into the
limelight.

A GOOD-NATURED SOUL 93

Among those who frequently contributed to
The Pelican, was that very brilliant writer, when
he chose to take a little trouble with his work,
Willie Wilde. He was a brother, it is true, of the
notorious Oscar, but quite a different sort of per-
son, in every way, from him. He was a most cheery
good-natured soul, always hard up, no matter
how much money he might be earning, but his
manner was so agreeable, and his conversation so
witty, that even those who knew he was about to
borrow from them, were almost always glad to
see him.

For several years he was one of the special
correspondents and leader writers of The Daily
Telegraph, and his work attracted a lot of notice.
Then Mrs. Frank Leslie, the celebrated owner of
Frank Leslie's Weekly, and numerous other
American papers, and magazines, fell in love with
him, took him to the United States and married
him.

Willie had a great chance of making half a
dozen fortunes, for owing to his wife's influence
and his own ability, pretty well anything, journal-
istically speaking, was open to him, but though
he could, and did when he chose, work quickly,
he was not at all keen about working often, or
indeed at all ; and when he found himself married
to a lady of great wealth and remarkable business
capabilities, he appeared to consider that there
was no need for more than one of the combination

94 A PELICAN'S TALE

to hustle ; and that perhaps he had better not be
the one.

The union did not turn out successfully, and
" Wuffalo Will," as his friends called him, it being
generally agreed that in many ways he bore little
resemblance to the hardy, robust Buffalo Bill,
saving in the matter of height and hair, returned
to this country, but his star had gone down, and
what ought to have been a very brilliant career
did not fulfil the earlier hopes it had given.

Edmund Yates was a great believer in Willie
Wilde's journalistic abilities, and commissioned
him to write one of the Christmas numbers of
The World, in the days when these things were of
considerable importance, and were a sort of revue
of the life and people who had made history during
the previous twelve months. The wonderful
portrait cartoons by Alfred Brian were always a
special feature of the Christmas World.

As I have said, Willie was in all respects quite a
different sort of person from his brother Oscar, and
with all his faults, most of which were the effect
of a far too easy-going and generous nature, he
was in many ways, a good fellow, as well as an
exceedingly brilliant man. I speak as one who
knew him well.

His brother I knew not at all ; nor did I ever
wish to know him, even in the days of his greatest
prosperity and notoriety, when he was sought
after, and made much of, to what seemed to me,

THE RETORT COURTEOUS 95

a sickening extent. I liked neither his appearance,
his manner, his monstrous conceit, nor his evil
reputation, and carefully avoided being introduced
to him.

On one occasion I was lunching at the Cafe
Royal in the upstair room, and Oscar Wilde,
encircled by a crowd of his young men admirers,
was feeding at a table a little way off, holding a
sort of court for the apparent benefit of everyone
else in the restaurant. One of his young men
came over to my table, and without any sort of
preliminary remark said, " Oscar desires that you
be presented to him." " Does he," I replied,
" then you can tell your friend that he may go to
the devil so far as I am concerned, for I have not
the smallest desire to be presented to him." The
young man — he is older to-day and a deal more
sensible — gasped with apparent horror. " Would
you have me tell him that ? " he cried. " Yes, I
would," I said, " and you can, if you like, add
that I am a friend of Charles Brookfield, and of
'Q.'" "Philistine!" retorted the poet's mes-
senger, and departed, presumably to make his
report, while I paid my bill and cleared out.

" Q " was of course, the late Lord Queensberry,
who with Brookfield was then rapidly collecting
the evidence which led to the downfall of the
"Apostle of the Beautiful" at the Old Bailey,
where not long after I saw Wilde, sentenced with
his friend Taylor, to two years hard labour.

96 A PELICAN'S TALE

The trial made a tremendous sensation at the
time, not only in this country, but literally all
over the world. However, it is an old and nasty
story now, and better left alone, though the
verbal duel in Court, between Wilde and Sir
Edward Carson is not yet forgotten, and one still
recalls the brilliancy of many of Wilde's answers,
the way he scored off Counsel, and the curious
bull terrier like way in which the Irish barrister,
with his remarkable brogue, held on to his victim,
and never let go, till he brought him down — very
low indeed.

Talking of the Old Bailey recalls other famous
trials one has seen and listened to there, most of
them, even the murder ones, being deadly dull
affairs, till just at the end when sentence was
pronounced.

One of the most interesting and sensational
that I recall, was the Muswell Hill murder case,
when two ruffians named Milsom and Fowler,
were tried before Lord Brampton, or Sir Henry
Hawkins as he was then. This trial was full of
grim details, the showing of blood-stained ex-
hibits, weapons, and the like, and Hawkins was
in great form throughout. It was generally known
that Milsom had tried to turn Queen's Evidence,
and on the last day of the trial, the two culprits
sat in the big dock, with a burly police officer
between them, as well as the usual gaoler behind,
at the top of the steps leading down to the cells.

THE MUSWELL HILL MURDERS 97

When the jury went out to consider their verdict,
the judge left the Bench, but the prisoners were
not taken out of court, for it was clear to every-
one that there could only be a verdict of guilty
and that it would be arrived at with very little
delay.

I was watching the two men very carefully, and
was seated at the side of the court quite close to
the dock, and I saw Milsom lean over towards
Fowler and say with a sort of sickly grin, " Not a
chance, ' Bunny/ " In the next second, Fowler,
who was an immensely big, powerful fellow, had
t leapt at Milsom, dashing the intervening police-
man aside, and had got him by the throat. They
crashed against one end of the dock, which was
adorned with a number of panes of glass, and
these were promptly smashed to smithereens.
Then they swayed across to the other side, smash-
ing all the glass there as well. In a couple of
seconds the dock was full of uniformed and plain-
clothes policemen, but Fowler was so powerful
that he knocked them about like ninepins, and as
nearly as no matter succeeded in his object of
strangling Milsom.

Everybody in Court yelled, barristers stood on
their seats, Miss Minnie Palmer, the famous
American actress, who was seated immediately in
front of me, gave forth screams of wondrous size
to proceed from so small a lady. All the other
women in Court joined in, and for a few minutes

G

98 A PELICAN'S TALE

there was as lively an imitation of a bear garden
gone mad, as you could wish to see.

Later on, when the two men were sentenced,
they were, brought in heavily handcuffed, and
were kept carefully apart by a considerable body
of police. In due course, when they were executed,
it was generally supposed there would be another
scene, but though they were hanged together on
the same scaffold, nothing out of the way occurred,
the authorities keeping them well apart, by
placing a third victim to the supreme penalty,
between them, with the result that at the right
moment they were all three swung into eternity
together, in what I am told was a most satisfactory
and workmanlike manner.

As I came away from the Court, after seeing
Fowler and Milsom sentenced, I did so by the
private staircase, thanks to my friend, the Under-
Sheriff of the time, and coming down encountered
a poor frail looking woman, crouched on the
stairs apparently in the greatest distress. I tried
to comfort her as well as I could, and told her to
endeavour to cheer up, whatever her trouble was.
" How can I cheer up/' she said, " I am Mrs.
Milsom." There was no answer to that ; and so I
just came away as quietly as possible.

One of the most famous trials of the world was
that of the Tichborne Claimant. Arthur Orton
is merely a name in these days, but there was a
time when the whole of Great Britain was divided

THE TICHBORNE CASE 99

into two great camps, those who believed that he
was Sir Roger Tichborne as he claimed to be, and
those who regarded him as an impudent humbug
engaged in the biggest bluff on record.

It seems incredible that an ignorant, aitchless
butcher from Wagga-Wagga, should have induced
many people to believe that he was the missing
baronet, and even secured the sympathy and
credence of old Lady Tichborne that he was her
son, but he certainly did it, and so confident were
many that the monstrously obese fellow was the
actual man he purported to be, that they produced
money in large quantities in order that he might
be enabled to contest his claim.

It was as " THE CLAIMANT " that Arthur Orton
was generally known in this country, though he
stuck hard and fast to the story that he was Sir
Roger Tichborne, even after he had completed
the long term of penal servitude which the law of
the land awarded to him for his endeavours.

After his return to freedom, there were some —
not many it is true — who continued to believe
that the ex-butcher, whom the rigours of Portland
had reduced to normal proportions, was an ill-
used martyr, scandalously kept out of his rights,
and these confiding folk backed their opinion
with coin of the realm, an action which it seems to
me must always denote very solid belief.

After a time even these credulous persons began
to tail off, and dark days fell upon the Claimant,

ioo A PELICAN'S TALE

who was driven to various expedients in order to
raise the wind, and among others to the joyful
acceptance of the offer of an engagement to appear
at the old Royal Music-hall, now the Holborn
Empire, to exhibit himself for the benefit of the
curious, and to make a brief statement of his woes.

The manager of the place at that time was the
late Tom Carlton, and knowing that I was ever
interested in meeting people who had done any-
thing out of the common, even if it were only
" time " in sufficient quantity to take them out
of the ordinary, he, Carlton, one day turned up at
the office of my paper about luncheon-time,
accompanied by a pleasant, quiet, sad-faced old
gentleman, whom he introduced to me as " The
Claimant of whom you have no doubt heard/'

Having done so from the days of early child-
hood, since the period when Tichborne candy —
" crack the rock where'er you will, you'll find Sir
Roger in it still " — was one of my favourite
delicacies, I was naturally interested in meeting
so distinguished a celebrity face to face, and being
about to adjourn for my midday meal, I invited
my visitors to accompany me.

Having heard all manner of persons, learned
and foolish, legal and otherwise, discuss and
quarrel over the innocence or wickedness of the
Claimant's cause for many previous years, it was
very interesting to hear the worthy man pour
forth details of his very lengthy trials — there were

" ARE YOU SIR ROGER ? " 101

two of them — and of his infinitely longer term of
penal servitude, at first hand.

It took many great legal minds to decide whether
Orton was himself or Tichborne, but on this occa-
sion the answer to the conundrum was made plain
in a flash, when after the Claimant had given vent
to a number of what seemed to me singularly
committing statements in the course of one of his
lengthy and humorous stories, as to how he had
" bested " the eminent Counsel arrayed against
him, Carlton turned to him and said, " Look here,
Claimant, are you or are you not Sir Roger ? '
and I still recollect the Claimant's whimsical smile
as he replied, " Well, Tommy ; you know how
things are. What's the good of trying to kid
you ? "

It was more the tone in which they were spoken,
than the actual words themselves, which served to
make the thing perfectly clear to me, if indeed I
had previously had any doubts about the matter.

There used to be, and perhaps there still is in
Fleet Street, a gang of swindling, alleged adver-
tising agents and canvassers, who made new
papers their special prey, and on whose managers
they unloaded advertisement orders of the most
non-reliable sort, demanding, frequently with
threats, prompt payment of considerable commis-
sion— usually 20 per cent.

As a rule a new paper finds great difficulty in
securing the needful advertising support, without

102 A 'PELICAN'S TALE

which it cannot exist, unless its proprietor is a
philanthropist and a very wealthy one too. And
so it is that the managements of such organs are
usually rather too willing to believe that all
advertisement orders brought to them are genuine,
and worth coin of the realm later on, when they
have been executed.

Every new journal is a mark for these harpies,
and at the time The Pelican was born, there hap-
pened to have been rather a dearth of Fleet
Street sucklings, for some time previously. Where-
fore the entire gang of these robbers surged up
our somewhat steep stairs at 84 Fleet Street,
intent upon securing as much of our not too
ample money as they could force out of us.

I was caught with one or two of those bogus
orders at the beginning, and duly paid the re-
quired commissions, but after that I grew more
cautious, and as a result the Fleet Street sharps
became more wary and skilful in their tactics.
Some of them, however, didn't condescend to the
use of camouflage to any great extent, but relying
on size and a bullying manner, would practically
demand my money or my paper's life !

I was not keen about parting with either, and
the climax came one day when an enormously
large, red-faced, red-haired, rather drunken and
very quarrelsome pirate, came up to our lair and
demanded five pounds for orders which he said
he might bring in at some indefinite future period.

A PRECIOUS GANG 103

Looking through my window on to Fleet Street,
I noticed several members of the gang waiting
about to see whether I was likely to stand this
latest and most dastardly attack. I felt the time
had come for action, and so I temporised and
talked to my bully while I slowly got him, with
his very extensive back to the top of our very
steep stairs. Then I let him have all I knew with
my left and right on his chest, which had the effect
of over-balancing him, and down he went right
into Fleet Street, very much like a pole-axed ox.

When he had picked himself up and found that
only bruises had apparently resulted, he pro-
claimed aloud the various ways in which he in-
tended to kill me, and started to come upstairs
again to execute his design. I pointed out as
briefly as possible, and in as direct a language as I
knew how, that I stood on the top step, that by
the time he had got three-quarter way up, his
head would be on a level with my foot, that my
boots were thick, and that I proposed to use them
to the best of my ability. After a remarkable
flow of blasphemy from him and his companions,
who now took a hand in the game, and sundry
dark threats of what they would do when they
got me outside, the deputation withdrew and I
was left alone. Nor did the gang ever afterwards
interfere with me in any way.

Ours was, in a variety of ways, a distinctly
strenuous life, at the start of the paper, and

104 A PELICAN'S TALE

threats of various sorts were not infrequent ; but
as I had even then heard and have since found out
for myself, threatened men live fairly long.

Of course I might have given my bogus adver-
tisement friends in charge, but I should have had
to devote a good deal of time to the matter, and
should in the end have not merely failed to re-
cover my money, but have had to spend more,
and so my somewhat primitive methods seemed
good enough. They answered all right, anyhow.

CHAPTER VII

The new offices — A nest of ladies' journals — Distinguished sub-
editors— Our only libel action — On trial at the Mansion
House — Mr. Charles Gill, K.C., and Mr. Justice Avory — Did-
cott the music-hall agent — Father Stanton of St. Albans,
Holborn — A fine priest and a great man — An unpaid curate
for fifty years — " Dad's " opinion of great wealth — The law
of balance — Money and misfortune — The frequency with
which they go together — What Charles Frohman said about it
— His story of the Satrap and the physician — The man who
had no shirt — Frohman and Barrie — How Frohman died in
the Lusitania tragedy — Barrie and Peter Pan — How Peter
nearly had another name — A wonderfully successful play —
How its author believed it would be a financial failure — How
Barrie meant to indemnify Frohman against loss in connection
with its production ! The play he meant to present Froh-
man with.

IN course of time it became necessary to seek
out larger offices than those wherein The
Pelican had been born, and after a good
deal of searching, suitable premises were
found at 10 and n Fetter Lane, which is a
largish building, almost opposite the Record
Office. Here we found ourselves in a veritable
nest of Ladies' Papers, for the building housed
among others, Hearth and Home, Myra's Journal,
and Woman. I fancy Mrs. Talbot-Coke was chief
proprietor of these journals, and her son-in-law,

a charming fellow named Langton-Bailey,

105

io6 A PELICAN'S TALE

managed things for her. Hearth and Home had
quite a number of men who got on as its sub-
editors at various times. Among them being,
Robert Hichens, one of the products of David
Anderson's School of Journalism, in Chancery
Lane, and Arnold Bennett who later on became
editor of Woman.

In one respect at least I believe I scored some-
thing of a record during my twenty-eight years
of The Pelican, and it was in the matter of libel
actions, for during that fairly lengthy period, we
had only one case of the sort brought against us,
and that one the Lord Mayor, before whom it was
tried, in dismissing the action said, that in his
opinion it never ought to have been brought.

When you take into consideration that The
Pelican was a paper which devoted a good deal of
its space to personalities, and, moreover, that it
usually spoke its mind very clearly, I think the
fact that we escaped being pulled into Court
more often than only once, at least proved our
luck, if nothing else. Perhaps the bad two-
shilling piece, taken so early in the paper's career,
had something to do with this.

Our only libel action was brought by a man
who called himself Hugh Jay Didcott, and who was
at the time quite a personage in the theatrical and
music-hall world. He had by far the largest thea-
trical business agency of its kind, and was, in the
opinion of many, a man of great consequence.

A POLICE COURT CASE 107

The trouble came about through the publica-
tion of a story called " A Very Odde Volume/'
and in it there figured a music-hall agent who was
called " Mr. York Road," in which locality, by
the way, most of the agents at that time had their
offices. Didcott said that "York Road" was
meant for him ; but he was quite wrong in his
belief. The man who wrote the story had never
seen or heard, at the time, of Didcott, who was,
among other things, the father of that clever
little actress, Miss Maudi Darrell, who died all too
young, soon after her marriage to the very wealthy
Mr. Ian Bullough, who subsequently married
Miss Lily Elsie.

Now it is a fact that no matter how hard you
try to do so, you will find it impossible to write a
story of any sort or kind, which won't fit some-
body or other in the world ; for everything con-
ceivable has been done to, or by someone, and
when Didcott said that " York Road " was meant
for him, I saw to my very considerable con-
sternation, that there were many marked points
of resemblance between the real man and
imaginary one.

In spite of my denial that " Mr. York Road "
was meant for him, Didcott hailed me before the
Lord Mayor at the Mansion House Police Court
on a charge of criminal libel. This meant of
course that if the Lord Mayor had sent the case
for trial, I should have had to defend myself at

io8 A PELICAN'S TALE

the Old Bailey, and if I had lost, I should have
been sent to prison.

The late Mr. Stead gave utterance to the
opinion that it was requisite as well as neces-
sary, for the complete journalist to have been
in prison at least once, as he himself had been.
But I venture to think otherwise. I can imagine
lots of funnier things than doing time.

The case was duly heard before Sir Stuart
Knill, the Lord Mayor ; Mr. Charles Gill, in-
structed by Sir Charles Russell, defended me, and
Mr. Horace Avory, now a judge of the High
Court, appeared to prosecute.

The results of the case might have been most
serious to me, but fortunately Didcott was a man
with a highly remarkable past, and under a very
terrible cross-examination at the hands of Mr.
Gill, it was made clear that his character had not
been damaged, and that, to quote Counsel, " he
had no character to clear, and it would be
absolutely impossible for him to do so, if he
tried."

In the end the Lord Mayor dismissed the case,
and everyone was quite pleased, except, of course,
Didcott. To defend " an action which never
should have been brought " cost me £250. How-
ever, we got this back again in advertisement,
for every paper in the Kingdom, from The Times
downwards, alluded to the affair, in most cases
at considerable length. This was the only action

FATHER STANTON 109

for libel The Pelican had while under my control.
There were threats of one or two others but they
came to nothing.

Some little time after the Didcott action I was
at the Eccentric Club one evening, when Sir
Simeon Stuart, who was at that time City Marshal,
came in, with a kindly faced old gentleman, to
whom he presented me. My name, if he caught
it, conveyed nothing to my new friend, but my
countenance apparently did, for after looking at
me fixedly he said " I fancy we have met before,
but I can't think where. I seem to know your
face quite well." I hastened to assure him that
his was equally familiar to me, and that I was
not soon likely to forget it, for I had regarded it
with much more than ordinary interest for an
entire day at the Mansion House Police Court.
He was, of course, Sir Stuart Knill, the Lord
Mayor, whom I afterwards came to know in-
timately.

A near neighbour of ours in Fetter Lane, and a
very dear friend, was the famous Father Stanton,
of St. Albans Church, Holborn, and his somewhat
sudden and unexpected death, left a real blank in
the hearts of the many who knew and loved him.
We were all aware that Father Stanton — dear
old " Dad " as he was generally known to his
flock — had been very ill, but it was hoped that
he was well over his trouble and that he would
soon be coming back to us. " I am to get quite

no A PELICAN'S TALE

well, so they say/7 he wrote to me, shortly before
the end came, " but the process is necessarily
slow at 73." Still we hoped he was to be with us
again " after Easter " and the news of his death
came as a shock and very real grief to people all
over London and the country. The Daily Tele-
graph spoke of him as " one of the most widely
known and best loved Anglican clergymen in
London/' He was all that at least. The paper
also said " London lost one of the best and
noblest, one of the vitalising Christian forces she
could ill afford to spare/'

The break up of one of the most remarkable
brotherhoods of clergy which ever existed in this
country, came when the " old gang " of famous
St. Albans, Holborn, ceased to be after the going
of Father Suckling, the Vicar. The little band of
brothers which dwelt together in such perfect
unity, for so many years, in the Clergy House
adjoining St. Albans Church, consisted, in addi-
tion to the Vicar, of Father Russell, Father Hogg,
Father Pearkes, and the famous Father Stanton,
who might, of course, have had pretty well any
sort of preferment he desired, but who was con-
tent to remain for more than fifty years, an un-
paid curate of the famous and beautiful church,
which has meant so much to so many.

In addition to being a wonderful preacher, a
great parish priest, and one of the saintliest men
who ever lived, Father Stanton possessed the

Photo. A. H. y->i

FATHER STAXTOX, THE FAMOUS PRIEST OF ST. ALBAX?S, HOT.BORX

1 THE DAD " in

keenest sense of humour. He was a positive
mine of good stories, and none could tell them
better than he. He was also a thorough man-of-
the-world, in the best sense, and was seldom sur-
prised at anything, though at times some of his
remarkable parishioners tried him fairly highly.

On one occasion he had been working very
hard since the early hours, till four in the after-
noon, when he decided that a little rest would be
no bad thing, wherefore he told the servant who
answered the bell of the Clergy House, that he
couldn't, and wouldn't, see anyone else that day.

Soon afterwards a robust fellow of the coster-
monger class might have been seen tugging at
the bell of the Stanton abode.

" Is the Dad in ? " he asked the maid who
answered his summons. Stanton was always " the
Dad " to his flock.

" Yes, he's in, but he's tired ; he's lying down,
and he can't see anyone," was the reply.

" Blime, that's a nice thing, I don't think, for
a bloke to 'ear wot's come to see him spiritool.
Look 'ere, I got to see him. You tell him it's Jim
Jones, and the matter is important and spiritool."
And so the maiden sped upstairs to Father
Stanton's chambers, wakened the fine old gentle-
man up, and gave him the message.

" All right," said the Dad. " If it's as he says,
I must see him," and so getting into his cassock,
he made his way downstairs.

A PELICAN'S TALE

" Jim Jones " turned out to be an absolute
stranger. From his appearance, he was one who
probably had had a difference of opinion with the
police the previous evening, and had, as likely as
not, just been discharged from the nearest police
court.

" Father/' he said, " I called to see you, and its
a spiritool matter ; leastways/' he added, noting
the good Stanton's very shrewd and somewhat
sceptical gaze, " it ain't so much spiritool as you
might think ; but that don't signify. What it
comes to is this. Father, have you got a pair of
trousers ? "

" Yes/' replied the Father, committing himself,
as you will note, as little as possible.

" 'Ave you now ; well, where are they ? "

" I have got them on," was the reply, " and
you can't have them, but you can have this bob,
and now out you go for I am very tired," and
then the pair laughed heartily at one another,
while the Father gently assisted his visitor to the
door.

" Blime, Dad, but you are 'ot stuff— not 'arf "
— was the Coster's comment as he took his depar-
ture.

It was my privilege — and it is one of the very
few things I am proud of — to have been a fairly
intimate friend of Father Stanton, and although
he did not regard with any special consequence
what most people wrote or said about him, he

A FRANK OPINION 113

was at times disposed to attach importance to
what his flock thought of him as a priest.

One of his most constant followers was an aged
and somewhat disreputable person, a vendor of
shell-fish, and whose chief virtue was the regu-
larity of his attendance at church on Sunday.

" Do you know, Dad/' he said one day as he
leant on the arm of his barrow, and gave Father
Stanton the benefit of his views upon sundry
matters, " you St. Albans Clergy are an un-
common rummy lot — oh very rummy and no
mistake/'

" How do you mean exactly ? " asked the good
Father.

" Well," said the other, " there's Father Russell,
for a start. I would call 4m broad ; a bit broad,
ain't 'e ? Then there's Father 'Ogg ; well, 'e's
'igh, oh yus, Vs 'igh, there's no doubt about that.
Father Suckling 'e's the Vicar. Well, let 'im
parse ; and Father Pearkes is all right too. 'E's
the kids' pal and the old women's."

" Yes," said Stanton, waiting for further en-
lightened criticism, " and how about me ; you
haven't mentioned me, you know ? "

" Oh, you," replied the vendor of doubtful
shell-fish, " you — well I hardly know what to say
about you. Blowed if I don't believe as you ain't
no church at all ! ' With which crushing retort
he left his somewhat astonished hearer to pursue
his calling, and the fact that I was the next

H4 A PELICAN'S TALE

person that dear Stanton met, accounts for the
repetition of the tale here.

Father Stanton was delighted with his critic
ajnd perhaps just a bit mystified.

" What do you think he really meant/' he
asked between his smiles, and I was wholly un-
able to say.

Father Stanton was a very manly man, as they
all were, and no doubt still are, at St. Albans, a
thing which accounts for the fact that it is one of
the few churches in London, or elsewhere, where
the men of the congregation outnumber the women.
He was loved by all who knew him and in his own
parish, where he was wellnigh worshipped, you
could often see him dodging about the streets,
coming out of one poor dwelling, and disappear-
ing into another, a tall striking figure in his
cassock, usually partially covered by an aged
grey overcoat — " disgracefully shabby, isn't it,
but it's so comfortable " — and his biretta stuck
so far on the back of his head that you wondered
how it remained on.

He was a great preacher, as well as a great
parish priest ; and he was a great actor. He had
real dramatic genius, which was much helped by
his striking appearance, and he had one of the
most beautiful — I use the word advisedly —
smiles I ever remember to have seen.

You recall how beautiful Henry Irving's smile
was ? Well, Father Stanton's was just like that.

FATHER STANTON ON RICHES 115

With his great gifts, he could no doubt have had
all sorts of preferment if he had wanted it, but he
desired nothing other than to remain on for
over fifty years, an unpaid curate of St. Albans.
He was always at the call of the sorrowful. If
anyone was in trouble, there was always " Dad "
to turn to. Others might fail, but he at least was
sure. " Oh, he was good, if e'er a good man lived."
How the quotation fits !

Father Stanton used to say that if there was
one thing he could understand less than another,
it was the desire of most people to be very rich,
and many persons a deal more worldly in their
ideas than the good priest must share the feeling
he had about money in too great quantity, if
from no other reason than the very broad, but
none the less clear one, that the possession of
superabundant wealth almost always seems to
carry considerable unhappiness along with it.

There really would seem to be a law of balance
in this, as in many other matters, and if inordinate
wealth comes to man or woman, it is quite remark-
able how tragedy of greater or lesser degree
appears to accompany it. Moderate riches, com-
fortable circumstances, and freedom from anxiety
seem good. More than that does not.

You have merely to recall the cases of most of
the very wealthy men of present, or recent times,
to see that this is so. Take Mr. Rockfeller, the
wealthiest man in the world. How many of his

n6 A PELICAN'S TALE

millions could you or I gladly have if we could
induce hair to grow on his billiard-ball-like head ?
The late Mr. Pierpont Morgan, too, with his enor-
mous fortune ; how much of it would he have
exchanged, think you, for a new nose, instead of
the bulbous affair he was condemned to ? Then
there was Baron Hirsch, the intimate friend of
King Edward, possessed of unlimited wealth, who
had no digestion to speak of, and who lived day
after day upon chopped-up, partly-cooked meat,
and hot water !

Think, too, of Mr. Alfred Beit, as kindly a man
as could be, and several times over a millionaire.
For years before he died he was a bundle of
nerves, hardly able to sleep, having to be fed like
a child, and leaving his huge fortune while still
quite young. And Sir Julius Wernher, too;
think of his troubles, and of the terrible illness
which killed him. Recall the tragic ending of
Barney Barnato, who took his own life at sea ;
that of poor Woolfie Joel, who had his so ruthlessly
taken from him, when he looked to be one of the
most fortunate, as he certainly was one of the
wealthiest, young men in the world. And so on.

One could readily enough go ahead adding to
the sad list, but surely these instances tend far
enough to prove that there is some mysterious
law of balance ; of compensation.

For my humble self, I think that if ever I came
to be very rich — a thing which I have not the

A NOVEL PRESCRIPTION 117

smallest chance nor the slightest desire to be — I
should put my hands up to guard my head, and
look all round for the blow which I certainly
believe would fall.

The late Charles Frohman, most important of
American theatrical managers, who made several
fortunes for himself, and many for other people,
knew the value of too much money rather better
than most.

Talking of its possession he said, " I don't work
for money, the hardest workers never work for
money. When did money bring content ? You
know the story of the Satrap and the Persian
physician ? A certain young and profligate
Satrap, exhausted alike in body and mind, sent
for a famous Persian physician, and when the
man arrived he said, ' I have squandered my
youth in riotous living, my frame is enfeebled like
an old man's, and my mind is divided by remorse
and horror. Can you help me ? ' The Persian
physician looking gravely at the pale Satrap
answered, ' You have but one hope. Go forth
and find, if there be such, a perfectly contented
man. Persuade this man to exchange shirts with
you and you will straightway be strong and happy
again/ The Satrap set out upon his search. He
travelled many months in vain, and at last he
heard of a cobbler who was said to be absolutely
contented. The Satrap came at last to the
cobbler's door. The house was but a hovel, and

n8 A PELICAN'S TALE

on a board before it the cobbler lay asleep.
Awakening him, the Satrap asked if it were true
that he was quite content with life, and the
cobbler, with a laugh, declared that he was.
Then said the Satrap, ' I have a boon to ask at
your hands. It is that you will exchange shirts
with me. For thus a wise physician has said, I
shall become wise and contented also/

" But the cobbler shook his head. ' Most
cheerfully would I grant your request young man/

he began, ' but ' ' Nay, nay, deny me not/

the Satrap cried, ' I will pay you any sum you care
to name/ ' I seek not your gold/ said the cobbler,

' but— but ' ' But what ? ' cried the Satrap.

' The truth is/ replied the cobbler, ' I have no
shirt ! ' "

It was Charles Frohman who, standing on the
tilted deck of the ill-fated Lusitania, sunk by the
murderous German pirates in the early days of
the Great War, said, looking at the sea wherein
he knew he was to be drowned, " Why fear death ?
It is the most beautiful adventure of life."

We of this country owe Charles Frohman much,
and among many other things, let it never be for-
gotten, that it was he who gave us Sir James
Barrie's Peter Pan, the Boy who never grew up.

It may interest playgoers to know that Barrie's
first title for the famous play was The Great
White Feather, which Frohman liked well enough.
Later on when the author decided that it would

PETER PAN 119

be an improvement to call the play after its
leading character, Frohman again cordially agreed.

He has left it on record how interesting the
very beginning of Peter Pan was. Barrie had
agreed to write a play for the American manager
for production in London, and met him at dinner
one night at the Garrick Club. Barrie seemed
fretful and uneasy, and on his host asking him
what was the matter, he told him. Said Barrie,
" I have to deliver you a play. I have written it,
but I am certain it will not be a commercial
success. Still it is a dream-child of mine, and I
am so anxious to see it on the stage, that I have
written another play, which I will give you, and
which will compensate you for any loss you may
make on the first one.

Now the play which Barrie was so doubtful
about was Peter Pan, which, as everyone knows,
has made several fortunes, and the other play
which was to indemnify Frohman from loss upon
Peter's production, was Alice-Sit-by-the-Fire,
which had quite a brief run, and out of which
very little, if any, fortune was made !

In America, the famous actress Miss Maude
Adams created the part of Peter. In London,
when the play was first produced at the Duke of
York's theatre, on the 27th December, 1904, the
first Peter was Miss Nina Boucicault, youngest
daughter of Dion Boucicault, the one time famous
Irish actor. Other Peters since then have been

120 A PELICAN'S TALE

Miss Cissie Loftus, Miss Pauline Chase, Miss Fay
Compton, and Miss Madge Titheradge, each of
whom has been good in the part, but none of
whom ever gave it quite the wistfulness and
" fairyness " with which its original player en-
dowed it.

CHAPTER VIII

A London first night at the theatre — The terror thereof for the
players — An audience of professional play-goers — Every one
a critic — Interruptions from the front — How some actors
answered them — The mistake of so doing — A revue comedian's
error — How a well-known player in Called Back suffered —
Mr. Lowenfeld's opinion of his audience — Sir Charles Wynd-
ham and " The Man in the White Hat " — The elder George
Grossmith and the humorist in the gallery — How Sir Henry
Irving lost his temper — What Edmund Yates said about the
happening — Bessie Bellwood and the retort courteous — The
Younger George Grossmith's first good part — How he made
it grow — Mr. John L. Shine's prophecy concerning George,
which came true — The curious mishap at the opening of the
Shaftesbury — The worst of "cheap houses" — £70,000 for
a £16,000 theatre — A jump in prices — The Old Pavilion — My
friend the Chairman— Mr. Arthur Roberts and Mr. James
Fawn in the heyday of their music-hall triumphs — How Mr.
Roberts forsook the halls for the theatres.

IT has always seemed to me that one of the
most terrifying and nerve-racking ordeals
possible for a human being to go through,
must be to appear in the first presentation
of a play at a big London theatre. The audience is
on such an occasion always an exceedingly keen
and critical one, made up in great part of people
who from choice or necessity, as in the case of the
large body of newspaper dramatic critics, seldom
go to the theatre at any other time. Every lad
in the gallery is a more than ordinarily critical

121

122 A PELICAN'S TALE

play-goer on such an evening, and the knowledge
that the audience is thus constituted, can afford
little comfort to any actor or actress who suffers
at all from nerves— and what player worthy of
the name does not ?

Under such a strain it must be a difficult thing
for an actor to avoid doing or saying something
which he or she would not dream of, in less
strenuous circumstances.

All the same, no matter how dull and unappre-
ciative an audience may be, or how inclined to
guy the show or the players in it, it has ever
seemed to me the worst of bad business for an
actor on the stage to make allusion to the fact, as
one has seen and heard done on several notable
occasions.

For close on thirty-five years I was a profes-
sional dramatic critic, and attended all London
first-night shows at the theatre, and during that
time saw several instances of players losing their
heads and saying what they thought of their
" kind friends in front/' The results of so doing
were invariably more or less disastrous.

Not long ago in course of the performance of
the revue at a well-known theatre one of the
leading performers finding sundry of his quips
missing fire expressed his opinion with regard to
the mental capacity of the audience to another
member of the company, in terms quite loud
enough to be heard in the fourth row of the stalls.

AN ACTOR'S INDISCRETION 123

Now this sort of thing was decidedly unwise,
and was, moreover, exceedingly unfair to the
management of the theatre which was paying the
performer in question his salary. It has been
said that it is ever an unwise thing to quarrel
either with the Press or the Police, and I can't
help believing that it is at least equally inex-
pedient to say things about, or to an audience,
which has paid its money wisely, or otherwisely,
on purpose to be entertained.

One has known the addressing of an audience
from the stage attended with very serious results
to the players, and sometimes managers who
spoke. In this connection no doubt some of my
readers will recall the historical occasion at the
Prince of Wales' Theatre during the playing of
Called Back, when a very well-known actor — there
is no need to mention his name now — exasperated
by the interruptions of a portion of the audience,
stepped down to the footlights and told them
very clearly and precisely what he thought about
their intelligence. I am not prepared to say that
his estimate was other than a perfectly correct
one ; all the same its expression was unwise, and
for a long time after that actor could not, or at
any rate did not play in London, but had to remain
in Australia till the Pit and Gods forgave him, or
forgot the occurrence.

There was also the memorable occasion when
Mr. Hans or Heinrich Lowenfeld, owner of the

124 A PELICAN'S TALE

Apollo Theatre, talked a bit to one of his first-
night audiences when the curtain fell on a scene
of considerable turbulence, and a portion of those
present headed by Mr. Carl Hentschel, at that
time President of the Playgoers Club, responded
with much spirit and asperity.

Sir Charles Wyndham's address to the cele-
brated " Man in the White Hat " at a Criterion
first night is also still remembered, and George
Grossmith the elder, kindliest and best-natured
of men, and father of the present " G. G.," was
rash enough once to be lured into an argument
with certain interrupting souls in the gallery of
the old Globe Theatre on the occasion of the
production of The Gay Pretenders. The piece was
hanging fire a bit, and the humorists on high
sought to enliven matters by suggesting sundry
lines. " You're very funny up there/' said the
justly exasperated but very rash Mr. Grossmith.
" More than you are down there," came the in-
stant retort ; and then the audience smiled
loudly.

Even sweet-natured Sir Henry Irving forgot
himself somewhat on the night A Winter's Tale
was produced at the Lyceum. The audience was
unfriendly and turbulent, and at the finish,
goaded to a pitch beyond control, Sir Henry said
things to the house which I know he greatly re-
gretted, for he told me so himself the following
day, what time we journeyed together to spend

BESSIE BELLWOOD'S RETORT 125

Sunday at Edmund Yates's pretty place, Thames
Lawn at Mar low. I remember, too, how the kindly
sage of The World chided his old friend consider-
ably upon his minor indiscretion, and how the
great actor and splendid fellow took his talking-to
very much like a chastened schoolboy, and replied
in all humility, " Yes I know, my dear Edmund, I
was a fool — a damned fool ; but — we— can't —
always be wise, can we — eh ? '

On the other hand one has known an inter-
rupter scored off neatly and satisfactorily from
the music-hall stage, where the artistes were not
so tied down to convention as they were at the
theatre. As, for instance, there was the case of
that somewhat rough edged, but none the less
very genuine comedienne Bessie Bellwood, who
found herself rudely interrupted One night at the
old Pavilion music-hall by an idiot who per-
sisted in throwing pennies on to the stage while
she was singing.

Bessie stood the wag for a time, while the
audience tittered, and then feeling that the
period had arrived to put things right for herself,
she stopped dead in the middle of her song, and
marking the money-thrower, she remarked quite
pleasantly and naturally, " Don't chuck your
pennies away, young man ; you may come to
want them badly one day. I know ; I've been
hard up myself."

She had the House with her at once, and the

126 A PELICAN'S TALE

crushed humorist faded away into the night, as
inconspicuously as he could.

And, by the way, talking of the elder Grossmith
recalls the fact that my old and always young
friend George Grossmith numbers the Shaftesbury
among the several theatres which he and his
partner, Mr. Edward Laurillard, control, and it is
particularly interesting that he should be there
as one of its lessees and managers, for it was at
the Shaftesbury that he made his first success,
when he appeared there as Lord Percy Pimpleton
in Morocco Bound, one of the earliest of the
musical comedies, which was the joint work of
Mr. Adrian Ross, Mr. Arthur Branscombe, and
Dr. Osmond Carr. The part was quite a small
one at the start, but the actor managed to add
little bits to it night after night, so that in the end
it became one of the best in the piece.

In this connection, one recalls a trifling argu-
ment which occurred one evening between " G. G.
Junior/' as he then was, and Mr. John L. Shine
who played Spoofah Bey in the piece, and I
recollect George saying, " Although I play fool
parts I am not a fool altogether, and I mean to
get on/' "Oh, yes," replied Shine. " no doubt
you'll get on. You'll come to own the theatre in
time if you go on as you are doing." And now
George has come to own it !

Still harping on the Shaftesbury, recalls the fact
that the theatre was built by Mr. John Lancaster

A " CHEAP " THEATRE 127

of Manchester, and at the time he erected it he
was considered to be doing a very risky thing in
moving so far from the Strand, which was at that
time the centre of Theatre-land, to Shaftesbury
Avenue, then being created out of a network of
slums.

Mr. Lancaster built the theatre primarily for
his wife Miss Wallis, at that time well known as a
Shakespearean actress, and she duly opened the
house with a performance of As You Like It, or
rather she attempted to do so, for on the first
night, the heavy fire-proof curtain failed to act for
some reason or other, and went on strike, with the
result that the audience had to be dismissed ; a
dismal start truly for a new playhouse.

I remember the late Mr. Matthew Brodie the
well-known actor, who was in the cast, saying to
me later on the same evening, " That's the worst
of those cheap theatres/1 " What do you call
cheap ? " said I. " John Lancaster paid exactly
and precisely £16,000 for the house, he told me so
himself/' said " Matt/' as everyone who knew
him used to call the excellent Scotch player. Mr.
Joseph Benson of Liverpool, the most recent
purchaser of the house, was supposed to have got
a very good bargain when he bought it not long
ago for £70,000, and no doubt the Shaftesbury is
well worth that sum, but the difference between
£16,000 and £70,000 is a considerable one, and
recalls the often quoted opinion of Sir Squire

128 A PELICAN'S TALE

Bancroft that, "The man who owns the bricks
and mortar seldom loses/'

Some little way back I alluded to the old
Pavilion which stood on the ground occupied by
the present very handsome theatre. It was a
great place in its day, but of course it was a very
different house from the present fine one, and the
old idea of the " Singing Shanty behind the
Public House " was still retained a good deal, for
not only was there a chairman at his table on an
elevated seat with his back to the stage, to say
" Gentlemen, give your orders while the waiters
are in the room " ; but the audience instead of
sitting as we now of course do facing the stage,
did so on crimson velvet lounges at marble topped
tables set sideways to it, so that the performance
was only seen with considerable difficulty, the
entertainment contained in the glasses in front of
us being generally regarded — certainly by the
management at least — as the more important
attraction.

For myself I own up to a lingering fondness for
the bygone days of the Pavilion, when each
performer, as he or she came on, had a word or
two of somewhat full-blown chaff with Mr. Harry
Cavendish, the chairman, who, ivory mallet in
hand, seated on his raised throne, announced the
" turns/' led the choruses and the applause,
stated that Mr. Fred Albert, or Mr. Charles
Godfrey, or The Great Macdermott would appear

MR. ARTHUR ROBERTS 129

again, smoked steadily throughout the evening,
and drank with amazing cordiality everything
that was offered to him.

And you may take it from me that the chair-
man had lots to drink and to smoke offered him,
for it was recognised as a very privileged thing to
sit at his table and pay for drinks for himself and
his friends, and there was, I can assure you, keen
competition for a seat at the great table, ridiculous
as this may seem in these days.

At the period I write of, the chief attractions
at the Pavilion were Mr. Arthur Roberts, and Mr.
James Fawn, who at that time worked a good deal
in double harness. For the half -hour or three-
quarters of an hour which their combined shows
occupied, the place would fill up to suffocation.
Mr. Fawn usually sang his two or three songs first,
then followed Mr. Roberts, also as a soloist, but
they invariably ended up by singing a topical
duet, and my word ! some of those duets were
topical, and tropical. One of the most amusing
of them was, if I recollect aright, " Tidings of
comfort and joy," a ditty which would, if it
were sung to-day, doubtless make a present-time
Pavilion audience sit up and marvel considerably.

Of Arthur Roberts' innumerable successes,
which set the town ringing, " If I Were Only Long
Enough " and " Lend Me a Cab-Fare, Duckie "
recur with great vividness. This last was, I think,
the ditty which led to his temporary retirement

130 A PELICAN'S TALE

from the music-hall stage, and to his appearance
at the Avenue Theatre in La Vie, and as will be
remembered, he remained on at the Avenue to
score many subsequent successes in The Old
Guard, Nadgy, Lancelot the Lovely, and other
cheerful pieces of the sort. Of course he had
repeatedly appeared at Drury Lane and elsewhere
in pantomime before this, but his Avenue engage-
ment was, I fancy, his first regular one at the
theatres.

Mr. Roberts had an extraordinary personal
following, and he well deserved to possess it, for
at his best he was a remarkably amusing man
and never for two evenings quite alike. People
used not to say " Let us go to the Avenue and see
The Old Guard," or whatever the piece was, which
was being given at the house on the Embankment
at the time, but " Let us go and see Arthur
Roberts/' He was pretty well the beginning,
middle, and end of every show he appeared in,
and at that time he had his particular field almost
entirely to himself. With us just now, there are
three or four comedians who are equally good, and
more or less equally sought after, for Mr. Harry
Tate, and the three Georges, Graves, Robey, and
Huntley, each have their respective f ollowings who
swear by them. But in his day Arthur Roberts
stood alone. He was in a class by himself. It
was a case of Eclipse first, and the rest nowhere —
or at least a very long way behind.

CHAPTER IX

The Pelican Club and something about it — Who the Pelicans
were — How the club was started — Shifter's enterprise — The
coming of Swears — A strong committee — An era of boxing —
How Swears bought Shifter out — What became of half of the
" monkey " Shifter received for his share — A sound philosopher
— What the club was like — Its remarkable adornments —
How King Edward visited the place when Prince of Wales —
The result of a broken promise — Fatty's chair — Major Hope-
Johnstone's celebrated moustache — How Lord Esme Gordon
bought it — The Pelican page-boy who sought to better him-
self— The coaching set — Jem Selby its High Priest — The
celebrated record drive to Brighton and back — Those who
took part in it — The bet won with ten minutes to spare — How
the event was celebrated.

IN these days people often ask what the
Pelican Club was exactly ; what its objects
were ; who were its members ; how it
came into being at all ; and how it had
ultimately to put up its shutters. And to such
as take an interest in the genesis of a place which
certainly made history in its time, I propose with
their permission to recount a few facts.

To begin with, the Pelican Club was not really
the Pelican at all at its start, which statement
may sound somewhat Irish, but is none the less
true, for it was as The Star at 21 Denman Street,
just off Shaftesbury Avenue and Piccadilly Circus,
that Mr. W. F. Goldberg, much more familiar as

131

132 A PELICAN'S TALE

" Shifter " of the Sporting Times, on Wednesday,
igth January, 1887, began his venture.

Prior to that, certain sons of the morning, and
other lights of leading, possessed of a rooted anti-
pathy to going to bed on the same day on which
they had arisen, had been wont to foregather at
the Adelphi Club in Maiden Lane, Covent Garden,
a place better known as "The Spoof eries," and
this having served its purpose so far as they were
concerned, and become a little bit tedious to
many of them, it occurred to certain souls that
something a bit better and more comfortable
would in all probability be popular. Hence it
was that in due season The Star came into being.
Shifter was sole proprietor at first, but in a very
brief space of time it became quite painfully clear
to him that the meagre amount of capital at his
disposal was quite inadequate for the carrying on
of a club even for a brief period. Wherefore he
sought about for a partner, and found him in
Mr. Ernest Wells. The style and title of the club
became The Pelican, and with a strong committee
for a venture of the kind, the place restarted with
greatly increased vigour, for even in those days
what Mr. Wells did not understand about running
a club was hardly worth any one's while attempt-
ing to teach him.

I said the committee was a strong one, and as
its make-up gives a good indication of the sort of
men the members were, and therefore saves a

A GREAT FAVOURITE 133

deal of not specially useful description, I may as
well give the list of them here. There was the
Marquis of Oueensberry — " Q " to his friends,
Lord " Kim " Mandeville, afterwards Duke of
Manchester, and father of the present Duke, Lord
" Johnny " Churston, Lord " Ned " de Clifford,
Sir John Astley, " The Mate " to all who knew
him, " Archie " Drummond, at that time a Captain
in the Grenadiers, The Hon. Dan, and the Hon.
Clem. Finch, younger brothers of Lord " Joey 'J
Aylesford, John Corlett " Master " of The Pink
'Un, David James the well-known actor, ever to
be remembered for his Butterman in Our Boys,
Walter Dickson, good fellow and good whip,
familiar to many as " Dicky the Driver/' Charlie
Harris, younger brother of Augustus of Drury
Lane, George Edwardes of the Gaiety, Bob Martin
or " Ballyhooley " as he was more familiarly
termed, Edward Solomon composer of Billee
Taylor, and much else, and Arthur Roberts then
at the very tip-top of his popularity.

With such a committee to guide the affairs of
the club, and with a list of members which in-
cluded all the bright young men about town at
the time, most of the younger portion of the
House of Lords, pretty well the entire list of
officers of the Household Brigade, all the best
known and cheeriest artists, actors, authors, and
sportsmen, it may be readily supposed that
the days and nights at the Pelican Club were

134 A PELICAN'S TALE

exceedingly merry and bright. And they
were !

In those days there was a good deal more liquor
going than latterly, an extraordinary amount of
hospitality, and what no doubt tended to liven
things up a lot, was the fact that just about then
quite a remarkable lot of young men had come
into fortunes, and were as full as they well could
be of a desire to get rid of them as speedily as
possible. The belief actually held good among
many, that it was a deal better to give than to
receive, and such as had not got much " root of
all evil " of their own to let slip, were at least
replete with sympathy for their more prosperous
fellows who had ; and so things went along
cheerily, for most of us were young, and very fit,
and the World was a rosy place generally.

Boxing shows were of the attractions offered to
the Pelican members, and the chief of these used
to occur on Sunday nights, although later on, the
big night of the week became that of Saturday.
A special committee looked after these shows,
and on it were Lord Lonsdale, the Marquis of
Queensberry, Sir John Astley, Colonel G. M. Fox,
Mr. B. J. Angle, Mr. George Vize, and others,
while the Boxing Manager was Mr. John Fleming,
who when he ceased to be connected with the
Pelican, had a good deal to do with starting the
National Sporting Club in Covent Garden. At
the Pelican, although sundry fairly big and costly

THE PELICAN CLUB 135

glove-fights were brought off, boxing was never
regarded with the seriousness with which it is
treated at the National Sporting, where it is of
course the be-all and the end-all of the Club's
existence. At the Pelican it was quite a side-show,
and many of the members never took the trouble
to look at the matches.

Poor " Shifter/' who was a most humorous
writer and in many ways an excellent companion
to cheer things up a lot, was somehow not a success
as a partner in a business concern, and after all
that is what the Pelican Club was, or was intended
to be by Mr. Wells, who soon came to the con-
clusion that Willie Goldberg and he would get on
much better together if the connection between
them was entirely one of friendship, and so he
suggested to his partner that he should allow him-
self to be bought out. Nothing would please
Shifter better he said, but how much was
" Swears/' as Mr. Wells was and is known, dis-
posed to pay ?

Shifter's first idea was, I believe, that they
should toss whether Swears paid him a thousand
pounds or nothing for his share, but " Your Old
Proprietor " thought otherwise, and after a deal
of discussion it was decided to submit the matter
to arbitration, " Ballyhooley " Martin and John
Corlett agreeing to decide the question on con-
dition that one or other of the parties — they were
not particular which — should stand luncheon at

136 A PELICAN'S TALE

Romano's. In the end the arbitrators after about
a couple of minutes' consideration came to the
conclusion that if Swears paid Shifter £500 ready,
he would be acting very generously.

The " monkey " was duly handed over in notes,
and Shifter's lady housekeeper hearing of the
matter suggested that it would be wise if she
retained half the money for safety's sake. " For,"
said she, " it won't do for you to go round
the town with all that money in your pocket,
Willie."

It was just as well that Shifter kept £250 of his
coin, for when he got home in the early hours of
next morning, he found a note on his dressing-
room table. It was to the usual effect, that the
lady had decided to leave him for ever, and
that she had — gone. The £250 had gone too,
but Shifter was far too good a philosopher to
bother much about either the money or the
damsel. " She might have taken more," he said,
" and you know she might not have gone herself.
There are compensations in everything if you
only know where to look for them." And so
there are.

After a time of considerable success and con-
tinuous growth, it became evident to Swears that
unless the walls of the Denman Street premises
could be reconstructed of indiarubber, it would
be needful to find a new and greatly enlarged
home for his members. This took a vast deal of

A REMARKABLE PARROT 137

doing, but ultimately in Gerrard Street he erected
the extensive building which is now the well-
known telephone exchange.

The new Pelican premises were large and hand-
some. The chief room as you entered was adorned
with a long handsome bar which extended just
about the entire length thereof. In this room we
lunched, dined, and supped at little tables sur-
rounded by a nice collection of inspiring pictures,
cases containing stuffed pelicans performing a
variety of weird antics and things, while on a
special table under a glass case, reposed a large
pair of rather grubby looking boots. They were
those which Jem Smith, then champion boxer of
England, had worn in his match with either Green-
field or Jake Kilrain. An extraordinary parrot
occupied a pride of place at one end of the bar,
and talked on occasion in a manner in which even
at this lapse of time I blush to recall. Among the
other club pets were the three bulldogs " Jem
Smith," "Dumb Jack/' and "Sister Mary."
They were each of them valuable animals, and
used to win no end of medals and cups and things,
to the great satisfaction of the members. Up-
stairs above the main room, was the theatre
where the extraordinarily good smoking concerts
used to take place, concerts with lists of per-
formers of literally world-wide celebrity, whose
combined charges, if they had been singing and
playing for regular money, instead of merely to

138 A PELICAN'S TALE

amuse themselves and their friends, would have
amounted to untold gold.

Higher up still were the bedrooms of certain
heroes who were so attached to the club that they
couldn't leave it either by night or day, and so
made it their permanent abode. The redoubtable
" Hughie " Drummond was of the number.

It was down below the restaurant, or chief
room, that the holy of holies existed, for there
the gymnasium was, and the boxing-shows took
place, and some celebrated history-making com-
bats occurred there, being watched by audiences
consisting of many of the best-known men in the
country — men either celebrated at the time, or
who have since achieved celebrity in pretty well
every walk of life you can think of.

There is no harm in telling here, and at this
time, that King Edward was our guest on at
least one occasion when he was Prince of Wales,
and when he left said that he had thoroughly
enjoyed his visit. He would have come oftener
no doubt, but fear of shocking the " Unco guid "
kept him away. And in this connection, on the
night he was to be present those of us who were
journalists — there were only some five or six
journalistic members — were asked to give our
words of honour that we would not allude to the
visit in our papers. All the Englishmen kept
their promises. I am sorry to say, however, that
the London correspondent of a great New York

FATTY'S CHAIR 139

journal failed to keep his, with the result that the
paper in question came out with a sensational
front-page article, with great scare headlines, and
the wretched thing was copied over here and was
made no end of a fuss of by the long-faced section
of the Press, to the great annoyance of the Prince,
and at least to the equal anger and disgust of his
Pelican hosts who were sick with shame that one
of their number should thus so lamentably have
failed to play the game. Of course the member
who had thus betrayed his trust ceased to be of
the fold soon after. But the evil had been done
by that time and the Prince regretted that it
would not be possible for him to come again.

A conspicuous piece of furniture which could
not fail to catch your eye in the main room of the
club as you entered, was a chair of enormous
proportions. It was of a size quite capable of
seating three ordinary men, and on a silver plate
attached to the back of it was inscribed the legend
" Fatty's chair," indicating that it was the
special property of Mr. Stephen Coleman, a sports-
man of quite extraordinary girth, known very
well, not merely in the club, but all over London
at that time, as " Fatty Coleman."

Another of the club ornaments which I must
say I never failed to look at without a certain
measure of sorrow, was a case lined with purple
velvet and silver, which contained the long white
ends of a waxed moustache and imperial, which

140 A PELICAN'S TALE

had originally graced the upper lip and chin of
fine old Major Bob Hope- Johnst one, who in his
earlier days had covered himself with glory, if
not with wealth, in the service of her late Majesty
Queen Victoria.

" The Major " as he was always called and
celebrated in song — do you remember " That's
what's a matter with the Major/' written, I fancy,
by " Pot " Stephens and composed by Teddy
Solomon ? — was an old man when I knew him,
but even then he was a grand looking sportsman,
well over six feet high, with fine shoulders, and
deep chest.

He distinguished himself greatly in China, and
was in fact the first man to enter Pekin, and was
also at the ever-memorable Relief of Lucknow.

He met with a curious accident while coaching
which might well have ended the careers of a dozen
younger men, for in driving under the railway
bridge at Brondesbury his head came in contact
with it, and the top of his skull was literally lifted
off. Of course he ought to have died several times
over ; but he just didn't. Nor did he peg out on
the occasion when a gang of Haymarket ruffians
set upon him with broken tumblers in their hands,
and with the jagged edges of the glass inflicted
terrible injuries on his head and face, though not
before at least two of his assailants had gone
down with injuries from the effects of which, it is
satisfactory to know, they never recovered.

A CHEAP MOUSTACHE 141

He was descended in the direct line from the
Johnstones of Annandale, the Head of the house
on one hand, and Sir Frederick Johnstone on the
other, each claiming the Marquisate, but the
House of Lords did not grant the claim to either.

The poor old chap was at times very impe-
cunious, and on one occasion was so hard-up,
that he sold his famous moustache and imperial
to Lord Esme Gordon for five pounds, it being
part of the bargain that Esme should cut them off
himself. This was duly done, and " The Major "
was so horrified at his altered appearance, that he
said, " Good heavens, Esme, make it a tenner and
you can have my head as well ! JJ

I suppose it was all funny enough, and the
happening certainly created a deal of hilarity, but
for my single self I could not help feeling un-
commonly sorry and a good deal ashamed. It
did not seem right that this fine old soldier should
have been made a fool of in the way he was.
However, as "The Major" didn't seem to mind
much himself, I suppose it was nobody else's
business.

Like many of the members, some of the servants
of the club were remarkable characters, and
numerous amusing stories were told of them.
Most of them were old soldiers, and some of them
were remarkably useful with their fists and very
competent to keep undesirable intruders outside,
and on nights when there was a boxing show of

142 A PELICAN'S TALE

special interest, there were always a lot of people
who wanted to come in, whom we wanted par-
ticularly to keep out.

And talking of the servants in connection with
boxing, one recalls the small Pelican page-boy
who, seeking to better himself, sought service at
the Athenaeum, which as everybody knows is prob-
ably the most serious and solemn club in town.
The steward thereof put the lad through his paces
and asked him a number of questions, which he
answered in so satisfactory a manner, that a job
was promptly offered to him then and there.

But that was too one-sided an arrangement for
the Pelican boy. He wanted to know things also,
and duly asked, like Miss Rosa Dartle, for informa-
tion, and learning to his great amazement and
disgust that there was no boxing at the Athenaeum
on Sunday nights, promptly declined the situation,
and returned to the Pelican, confiding to the head-
waiter there that he had decided to remain in
Gerrard Street as "At the Athenaeum they were
no class ! >: I told the story to the late Bishop of
Winchester some time later, and he, a member of
the Athenaeum, was greatly impressed by it.

At one time a number of the Pelicans took quite
seriously to coaching, and either possessed them-
selves of four-in-hands, or acquired shares in
coaches, driving them so many days a month and
paying very stiffly for so doing. These were the
days when the head-quarters of the coaching

A FAMOUS COACHMAN 143

brigade were the White Horse Cellars in Picca-
dilly, where Hatchett's now is, and one of the
most memorable happenings in connection with
that remarkable period was when someone — I
forget who exactly — during the Ascot meeting
layed a thousand to five hundred pounds that a
coach could not be driven from London to
Brighton and back in eight hours.

Jem Selby, a professional coachman of the time,
a considerable public character, and a sort of high
priest of the Pelican coaching-set, was duly
backed to do the deed, and on a memorable
morning, July I3th, 1888, to be precise, he
started off from the White Horse Cellars at 10
o'clock in the morning having as passengers
" Dicky the Driver " Dickson, " Hullo there ! "
Carlton Blyth, Mr. McAdam, " Partner " Beckett,
Bob Cosier, and " Swish " Broadwood.

In spite of bearing such a crew, the coach duly
reached the Old Ship Hotel, Brighton, at four
minutes to two o'clock, amidst the cheers of a
vast crowd of sportsmen, many of whom had
come down by train on purpose to witness the
arrival.

There was no delay at Brighton, the coach
being turned round at once, and the return journey
begun. Thanks in great measure to the admirable
manner in which the traffic was kept out of the
way in London, the White Horse Cellars were
duly reached with just ten minutes to spare, the

144 A PELICAN'S TALE

there-and-back journey having been thus accom-
plished in seven hours and fifty minutes, which
still remains — and is likely to continue to do so
— the coaching record for the drive.

Half London was in Piccadilly to see Selby
pull up, and when he did so there was a deal of
enthusiasm and high spirits. Later on at the club,
there were lots of spirits and enthusiasm as well,
and the proper celebration of the event lasted
well into the next day.

Some time later there was talk about Carlton
Blyth, whose Piebald team used to be a familiar
spectacle, attempting to lower Selby's record, but
although there was lots of talk and considerable
lowering of many things in connection therewith,
the record remained where it had been placed,
and I fancy it is likely to stay there for a long
time to come, for in these days of motoring,
coaching is as dead as Marley, or a door nail
than which, as Dickens has proved to us, nothing
can be deader.

CHAPTER X

With regard to the future — The candidates' Book of the Pelican
Club — A specially remarkable entry therein — The man who
nearly made himself Emperor of the French — His sensational
finish — The courtier who sought information from the band-
master on behalf of Queen Victoria — A dreadful title — What
the good Queen must have thought — The Victoria Cross —
The Queen and the Highland officers — King Carlos of Portugal
— A happy monarch — Clement Scott of The Telegraph — The
famous interview which led to his downfall. How he tried to
come back, and did so for a time. Success on the London
stage — How it came to some lucky ones — Fame at a jump —
Mr. Hayden Coffin's arrival — Others who became famous in
one night — Miss Edna May and her first success among us —
Brevity the soul of criticism.

IT is an old saying, and of course a perfectly
true one, unlike so many of the ancient
saws, that there is only one thing we can
be perfectly certain of with regard to our
future. How little any of us can see ahead — or
even immediately in front of us, if it comes to
that ! How many of those who were generally
looked upon as duffers in their and our early days,
subsequently acquired merit, like Kim's Lama,
and in some cases achieved really great things ;
how many, too, who started brilliantly, and looked
to have the world before them, came to nothing
at all — or something worse than that.

If you could see the Candidates Book of the

K I45

146 A PELICAN'S TALE

old Pelican Club, and I believe it is still in exist-
ence, you would find among many interesting
entries, one which exactly goes to prove what I
have written. It is that of a candidate whose
name is hardly remembered now, but who was in
his day quite as famous as say, Beecham's pills,
or Pears' soap, for he was set forth as Ernest
Boulanger, General, proposed by Hugh Rayner,
better known in those days as " the bone twister,"
and seconded by Hugh F. Drummond, and the
really interesting thing to my mind is, that undeJ
the heading " Profession or Occupation " appear
the words which, ridiculous as they now are,
seemed at that time quite likely to stand for
truth, " Imperator in futuro."

Of course Boulanger was only a flash in the
pan of French history, but he was a very big
flash. Paris had lost her head about him, and had
made him a sort of tin-god on at least ten wheels.
For a few years he was the most talked of and
written about man in the world. Then he was
found out. His collapse came ; he was down and
out ; and disappeared for all time after his very
theatrical suicide on the grave of one of his many
sweethearts in Paris.

If he could have seen a little way ahead I
fancy, too, that fine old gentleman, Sir Henry
Ponsonby, would not have been placed in the
singularly unfortunate position he once was,
through absolutely no fault of his own.

AN EMBARRASSING QUESTION 147

He was in attendance on good Queen Victoria
one day at Windsor, and Her Majesty had strolled
out on the terrace to listen to the very admirable
and spirited music then being played by one of
the Guards' bands. One tune in particular
caught the Queen's attention and secured her
special regard, and she sent a messenger to the
bandmaster — perhaps he was Dan Godfrey, per-
haps he wasn't — saying she would like the piece
to be played over again. And the thing was
done.

Ever mindful of little courtesies the Queen
then asked Sir Henry to express her satisfaction
to the bandmaster and to enquire the title of the
melody, which had so won her approval.

I do not know what Sir Henry told the Queen
on returning from his little errand, but it must
have been distinctly difficult for even the most
diplomatic courtier to explain to the First Lady
of the land, as well as a Queen of some severity
about many matters, that the air was that of a
very popular music-hall song of the period, bear-
ing the classic title " Come Where the Booze is
Cheaper."

Writing of her who was known as " the dear
Queen " reminds me of the Victoria Cross, a more
familiar, though none the less distinguished emblem
in these days than it used to be in the time of the
Good Queen after whom it was named, and the
last man to receive the grand award " FOR

148 A PELICAN'S TALE

VALOUR/' at the hands of the venerable ruler,
was my old friend Major Mauray Meiklejohn of
the Gordon Highlanders, who came by his honour
so heroically in the Boer War, and by his end so
tragically in Hyde Park, during a Review, when
his horse bolted with him and threw him over the
railings.

Meiklejohn had lost an arm in action and was
naturally badly handicapped on a very restive
horse.

Queen Victoria had become very old and fail-
ing, and her sight was feeble ; and so when
Meiklejohn was summoned to receive his decora-
tion at her hands, a brass curtain hook was sewn
to the breast of his tunic, so that the Queen might
fasten the cross on with as little difficulty as
possible.

From what the hero told me, the occasion must
have been a very painful one, for when he was
ushered into the room where Her Majesty was
waiting to receive him, seated in an invalid chair,
the poor old lady was greatly overcome and
broke down badly, moaning away more to herself
than to anyone else, " Poor, poor boy ; he's lost
his arm ; he's lost his arm, oh, the poor, poor
boy."

Finally the Cross was placed in the venerable
Queen's shaking fingers, and these were guided
to the curtain hook, which after several painful
failures was ultimately encircled, and as Meikle-

\\

0(0. .1 fay 'a II

QUEEN VICTORIA AND PRINCE ALBERT
IN THE EARLY SIXTIES

QUEEN VICTORIA INDISPOSED 149

John said, it was all so sad and pathetic, that he
came uncommonly near to crying himself.

It is pleasant to think of the good Queen
Victoria under less sombre circumstances when all
the world was younger, and when she could, and
did laugh as heartily as any of her subjects ; for
she had a very keen sense of humour, and if any-
thing was really amusing, none could appreciate
it more generously than she.

When the King or the Queen is in residence at
Balmoral Castle, the Guard is always provided by
a Highland Regiment, and on one occasion the
two subalterns in charge of that furnished by the
Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders, were con-
nections of my own, though unrelated to one
another. Both are dead ; one of them, a Brigadier,
paid the great price in the recent war.

As usual Queen Victoria, who was always par-
ticularly kind to her Highland Guard, commanded
the two lads to dine with her at the Castle, and
naturally they were somewhat overcome and
nervous about meeting their Sovereign for the
first time, and as a result I have no doubt took a
peg or two of the wine of their country to brace
themselves up for what was something of an ordeal.

When they arrived at the Castle they were told
that unhappily the Queen had acquired a slight
headache and could not dine with them, but would
receive them after dinner, which intelligence was,
I doubt not, a relief to the two youthful warriors.

150 A PELICAN'S TALE

And so under the care of an equerry, they fed and
did themselves very well indeed, thanks in great
measure to the very persistent fashion in which
the butler who attended on them saw that their
champagne glasses were never allowed to feel
lonely or empty.

When some time after dinner it was announced
to the soldiers that the Queen would now receive
them, it began to be borne in upon them that
perhaps they had taken just a trifle too much
courage on board ; however, there was nothing for
it but to pull themselves together as well as
possible, and pray for luck, strength, and guidance.

After being conducted along apparently inter-
minable passages, possessed of singularly highly
polished and slippery floors, a door was thrown
open and they were ushered into a large room, the
floor of which was of so highly polished a nature
that it resembled a looking-glass. On a rug, near
the fireplace, stood the great little lady, the
Queen of Great Britain, much redder of face and
much bluer of eye than they had conceived
possible, waiting to receive them.

In front of her was a lesser rug, upon which it
was clearly indicated those about to be presented
to her were to stand. But the problem was, how
the lengthy surface of extremely polished floor
was to be overcome, before that haven of apparent
stability could be reached. The taller of the
twain strode forward as boldly and steadily as

THE QUEEN'S ENJOYMENT 151

might be, closely followed by the other. Then a
tragic thing happened. He who led the way,
seemed just past his difficulties, and in the act of
placing his foot on the rug, when that treacherous
thing slid across the polished floor, with the result
that the kilted hero went down with a terrific
thud on his back, with his legs whirling wildly in
the air. His companion stooping to rescue him,
was pulled down also, and there the pair were on
the glassy floor, for some seconds which felt like
hours, fighting their way on to their feet with
indifferent success, crimson with shame and horror
at the happening, while the good Queen gave
vent to peal upon peal of laughter at the catas-
trophe, and those assembled about her joined in
also, prior to helping the Highlanders to a more
upright position.

Next day one of my relatives encountering a
distinguished member of the Royal Household,
besought him almost with tears in his eyes to say
what he and his companion could do by way of
apology to the Queen.

But that wise old gentleman retorted that
everything was all right ; that the Queen had
been greatly impressed as well as entertained by
their visit ; and that Her Majesty had stated
that, from what she had seen, she was of opinion
that the old gist had just as fine men for its
officers, as it had in earlier days, when the father
of the contrite hero commanded the regiment.

152 A PELICAN'S TALE

Writing of royalty reminds me of the last time
I saw King Carlos of Portugal alive, not many
months before he and his elder son were so foully
done to death in the streets of Lisbon.

It was in the huge circus of the place, about the
size of our Albert Hall, and the very indifferent
performance took place partly in the arena and
partly on the stage at one side of the building
immediately opposite the Royal Box, wherein sat
the jolly looking King Carlos so full of smiles and
hilarious spirits that it was obvious he had dined
wisely, well, and in considerable quantity.

The programme was a poor one and suggested
that of a fourth-rate music-hall, but the big
audience stood it, and the plump cheery looking
King was obviously quite delighted, and applauded
some of the items so heartily that he looked as if
he might readily enough over-balance himself
and fall out of his box.

Towards the end of the programme before the
finish was quite reached, I and my companion,
the excellent skipper of the ship in which I had
arrived, and was to sail to Las Palmas next day,
left the circus, and in a side street we saw the
King's carriage, drawn by four mules, waiting for
him. Just then the monarch came out of what
was evidently a private entrance, walking arm-in-
arm with a gentleman who seemed to have a deal
of trouble in supporting his rather plump and
heavy sovereign.

KING CARLOS OF PORTUGAL 153

If the King was in good spirits inside, he was in
still better out, for as he came along he literally
shouted with laughter, and appeared to be
tremendously amused at something which had
happened. Of course we took our hats off as he
passed us, and King Carlos who was very English
in his ideas and tastes, and keen about English
people, waved his disengaged hand, which held a
large cigar, to us in the most friendly fashion.
He looked as if he was really pleased to see us,
and quite conveyed the impression that very
little would have made him ask us to come along
to the Palace and have a drink with him.

When he reached the door of his carriage —
which was small — there was considerable difficulty
in packing the plump and cheery monarch into it,
but the attendant courtier and a footman ulti-
mately succeeded in doing what was required, and
the last we saw of King Carlos was his still waving
hand, from the carriage window, with the tightly
clasped cigar in it. Surely never did man seem
happier, or freer from care of every sort and
kind.

When I next saw the King some months later,
being again in Lisbon, the Revolution had taken
place, and he was in his coffin in the Cathedral of
St. Vicente. The upper portion of the coffin was
of glass, and as you gazed at the fully dressed
King, with his carefully brushed hair, and curled
moustache, and pleasant expression of completely

154 A PELICAN'S TALE

peaceful repose, it was difficult to believe that he
was other than asleep.

I don't know if the dramatic critics of the
newspapers keep their jobs for a long time in these
days, but during the thirty-odd years I was a
member of the band they usually held on to
them until they died, or till the papers they
represented predeceased them.

Some of those who were experienced critics,
when I was a youngster at the game, are still to
the fore as if they were as enthusiastic about the
Play as ever, and no doubt they are. Mr. William
Archer, now of the Star , must be one of the senior
working dramatic critics. He was for many
years theatrical representative of The World when
Edmund Yates ruled. I fancy, too, he was at one
time, critic of the London Figaro, when the late
James Mortimer was its editor, and I believe he
was also critic of Life before Mr. J. T. Grein began
dramatic criticism in its pages.

Although the late Mr. Nesbit was critic of The
Times, Clement Scott of The Daily Telegraph,
was the big man in the dramatic critical world,
no doubt in considerable measure because the
Telegraph dealt more fully with theatrical matters
in those days than its competitors, and Scott's
name was more familiar to the public than those
of his fellow-scribes. His position was quite a
remarkable one in its day ; while other critics
were given a stall, Clement, usually accompanied

A COURAGEOUS CRITIC 155

by his wife, surveyed things from a box, being
the only critic thus honoured. People used to
read his notices after a dramatic production not
so much to see what The Telegraph had said, but
what Clement Scott thought about it.

Poor Scott's Waterloo arrived when the re-
markable and still memorable interview in Great
Thoughts made its appearance, wherein he said
sundry very indiscreet things about the Stage and
its womenfolk. The fact that a deal of what he
stated was true, and a familiar thing to every
man or woman about Town did not matter ; the
sword fell, and Scott got it, where according to
the familiar legend the chicken got the axe.
There was no end of a to-do about the interview,
and Scott was suspended from The Telegraph.
Poor fellow, he took the whole thing very much
to heart, and said and wrote a good deal that was
silly concerning it. An apology was demanded,
and this for a long time Clement declined to give.
I have a letter before me as I write wherein he
stated most definitely that he would see the entire
theatrical profession in Kingdom Come or else-
where before he would apologise. One's opinion
of his determination altered somewhat when he
returned to his job on The Telegraph the following
week, and apologised therein to a very consider-
able extent.

Most of the dramatic critics of my time have
" gone on ahead/' and one thinks of Moy Thomas,

156 A PELICAN'S TALE

Godfrey Turner — father of Mr. Leopold Godfrey
Turner — Jope Slade, John Latey, Charles Carson,
Cecil Howard, Joe Knight, Willie Wilde, Byron
Webber, Jimmy Davis, " Pot " Stephens, George
Spencer Edwardes, Newnham Davis, and Cecil
Raleigh. Mr. Alfred Watson, for so many years
critic of The Standard, is happily still to the fore,
like Mr. Boyle Lawrence, Mr. Jevons, Mr. Ben
Findon, Mr. Grein, Mr. William Mackay, Mr.
Austin Brereton, Mr. Seaman, Mr. Edward
Michael, and Mr. Chance Newton of The Referee,
who were all members of the old gang.

As a rule success of any consequence on the
London Stage comes only after considerable
climbing, and very gradually, but one has known
several outstanding instances of actors and
actresses who jumped into quite front-rank fame
the first time they were seen or heard in Town ;
a notable instance of this sort of thing being the
manner in which Mr. Hay den Coffin of " Queen of
My Heart " fame arrived, when The Lady of the
Locket was produced at the Empire, sometime
before it became a Variety Theatre.

Mr. Coffin had previously appeared in Poca-
hontas, but it was in the first-named piece that he
was really heard, was seen, and certainly con-
quered London most successfully ; and in the
criticisms on the piece which appeared in the
papers next day, the success he had scored the
previous night was made secure indeed, for his

CHARLES DANBY'S SUCCESS 157

praises were sung to a very remarkable extent,
and soon the whole town was talking of the new
singer who had been discovered, and was coming
to hear him accordingly.

A success of another sort, just as big in its way,
and just as sudden, was that made by the late
Charles Danby, who was for so long at the Gaiety,
when he first appeared in London at the Old
Strand Theatre, where the Strand Tube Station
now is, in a revival of The Sultan of Mocha,
wherein he played the principal comedy-part,
that of Captain Sneak.

On the first night the actor came on, as they say
in the theatres, " without a hand." No one knew
him. He was an absolutely unfamiliar quantity
to London playgoers, but after he had been on
the stage for a couple of minutes, it was quite
clear that a new comedian, well worth discovering,
had come to London. Danby's success that night
was wonderful ; and next day the Press notices
of the piece were all written round him. The
critics to a man, declaring that so rare a bird as a
really new and funny comedian, must take up his
abode permanently with us in Town, and as many
will remember he did so, for that most astute
annexor of talent, George Edwardes, promptly
secured him for the old Gaiety, and there he stayed
for many a long year.

That very droll comedienne, Miss Louie Freear,
who had such a vogue in London for some years,

158 A PELICAN'S TALE

had done much good work in the country before
she made her remarkable success as the odd little
maid-of-all-work in The Gay Parisienne at the
Duke of York's Theatre, a success which later on
led to her going to His Majesty's Theatre to play
Puck in Sir Herbert Tree's great revival of A
Midsummer Might's Dream.

Miss Edna May's triumph on true first night
The Belle of New York was played at the Shaf tes-
bury, will be recalled, too, as another instance of
how playgoers' favour may be secured at one jump,
if the jump be of the right sort. Miss May was
quite unknown in London when she made her
first entry as the demure Salvation Army lassie.
London knew all about her next day, and straight-
way took her to its capacious heart and kept her
there till she retired from the stage soon after her
marriage.

That brevity is the soul of wit is of course a
familiar thing, and one believed in I doubt not,
by all except " space writers " on the Press.
Criticism, too, as a general rule probably loses
nothing of its value by being a trifle abrupt at
times.

There is in this London of ours a very well-
known stage manager and producer of musical
plays who need not be too closely identified here,
but who has been concerned in the production of
many great successes.

On one occasion he was invited to attend the

A CUTTING RETORT 159

" reading " of a certain musical-comedy which
was subsequently produced, with rather dire
results to those who financed its appearance.

The reading duly took place at the Never-
Mind- Which Theatre, and all those immediately
interested in the production were present. He who
held the book, did his reading to the best of his
ability, and the popular actress who was to play
the chief part in the piece explained the situations
and gave suggestions from time to time.

At the end of the first act the polite Stage-
Manager-Listener maintained the complete silence
which had overwhelmed him shortly after the
start of the reading, and when the end was finally
reached, there was still no word, and everyone
looked towards him and waited for his verdict.

He said nothing, however, and merely continued
to gaze into space in a sort of stunned and amazed
condition.

" Well, Mr. " said the reader, feeling that

an expression of opinion of some sort was needful,
" what do you think of the piece ? "

And then the polite stage manager, suddenly
coming to himself with a jerk, arose and spake the
only syllables he gave utterance to all the time.
" You ought to be in a Home ! " he said, as he
walked out of the theatre without another word.

CHAPTER XI

The generosity of the theatrical profession — Concerning certain
great healers and their remarkable kindness — Sir Morell
Mackenzie and Kaiser Frederick of Germany — Lennox
Browne, a warm friend of the Stage and a great throat special-
ist—What " Ell Bee " said about Sir John Bland Sutton— A
strange coincidence — The working of Fate — Sir Frederick
Treves — The value of personal appearance to a surgeon —
Sir Alfred Fripp the famous operator, and kindly man — How
some plays succeed and others fail — The remarkable differ-
ence between the opinions of London and the Provinces —
Both good, but different — Van Biene and his Broken Melody —
First night audiences and others — A threefold scheme —
What Sir Arthur Pinero thought about it — Sir Arthur Pearson
and his wonderful work for the blind — The good he has done
for his fellow - sufferers — His remarkable early days — The
start of Pearson's Weekly — How he left Tit Bits office to
accomplish it — The series of miracles which occurred — How
Sir William Ingram helped — The start of The Daily Express —
The purchase of The Standard.

PROBABLY the members of no single
profession have been, and are, less back-
ward in coming forward to do good
turns when such were, or are, desired
and deserved, than those connected with the
Theatre. And if actors and actresses have re-
peatedly proved themselves the most kindly-
hearted and generous of people, if they have done
much for others, as they unquestionably have,
they have had a good deal done for them in return,
notably by members of the great healing craft.

160

A POPULAR SPECIALIST 161

No doubt the wealthier actors and actresses
who call upon the services of great physicians and
surgeons, have to pay for them, as they certainly
ought to, but one knows of many services rendered
by the most eminent medical men to humble
members of the Stage, without the smallest fee or
reward, other than very grateful thanks.

In a profession where the voice is the chiefest
asset, throats and all pertaining to them are
matters of great importance, and the extraordinary
kindness of the most eminent throat specialist of
his day, Sir Morell Mackenzie, to members of the
theatrical calling, is still remembered with very
grateful feeling.

Mackenzie, who, it will be remembered, was
specially sent to Germany to operate on the
throat of the Emperor Frederick, father of the
latest Kaiser, was a good head and shoulders
above any other throat doctor of his time. Every
moment of his day could have been occupied over
and over again by people willing to pay vast fees
for his services, and yet he never failed to make
time, somehow or other, to attend to any suffering
actor or actress, and he never took one farthing
from them for all he did. He was keenly interested
in the Stage, and used to be a very regular first
nighter, while his son, Harry Morell, became an
actor for a time, prior to entering upon manage-
ment in company with Mr. Frederick Mouillot.
At one time Morell and Mouillot were very big

L

162 A PELICAN'S TALE

people in the theatrical world, controlling several
theatres, as well as some fifteen or seventeen
touring companies.

When Sir Morell Mackenzie died, the Theatre's
great throat friend became Lennox Browne, and
in spite of the numerous calls on his services by
suffering humanity, he also found time to take
the throats of actors and actresses under his
charge, and saving in certain exceptional cases
his sole reward was the gratitude of the innumer-
able men and women whom he cured, in many
cases, by important operations.

Lennox Browne was a very wealthy man, for
his practice was an extensive one, and his fees from
those who could afford to pay them were con-
siderable, but his kindness to poorer members of
the Theatrical Profession, in whose calling he was
always keenly interested, was remarkable, and I
could readily tell of many cases wherein his
generosity was by no means confined to the free
giving of his skill. He was a generous and kindly
man, and " the Profession/' as it used to love to
call itself, lost a very good friend when the sage
of Mansfield Street died.

On a certain first night at Drury Lane, many
years ago, I sat next to Lennox Browne, who
during the performance regaled me with a most
vivid and gory account of a specially dreadful
operation which he had seen performed that day
by a young surgeon, whose work was then begin-

SIR FREDERICK TREVES 163

ning to attract attention. As he became en-
thusiastic in his dreadfully realistic account of
the happening, " Ell Bee " talked quite loudly, to
the immense indignation of those who sat near
us, and finally, as my hair was beginning to stand
on end with horror at what I was hearing, I be-
sought him to stop, unless he wanted to make me
physically ill. " All right/7 he said, " I was for-
getting, but just let me tell you this, that if ever
you want to be cut up in little pieces, and then
stuck together again as good as new, you get this
new fellow Bland-Sutton to do it, for as an
operator he is a marvel."

Years afterwards, I told my good friend, Sir
John Bland-Sutton, the famous surgeon, the story,
and he was interested. It is something of a co-
incidence, surely, that it should have fallen to Sir
John to have to tell poor Lennox Browne of the
fatal nature of his illness.

Personal appearance is always an important
matter to anyone, and of what infinite value must
a good cheery presence and manner be to a doctor
or surgeon ? How absolutely like the real thing
Sir Frederick Treves must have seemed to his
patients when he came to operate on them, and
how confident they must have felt in his abilities
to do all that was possible.

Another eminent surgeon, whose physical pres-
ence and manner must be among his most valuable
assets, is Sir Alfred Fripp. If the time ever came

164 A PELICAN'S TALE

when one had to have one's head taken off, or
anything of the kind, surely the big, kindly, strong,
cheery, wonder-worker of Portland Place is pre-
cisely the person one would desire to do the deed.
I leave great skill and absolute knowledge of his
own terrible game out of the matter, and refer
only to the hearty hopeful manner, so sure that
there is nothing very much the matter, and so
certain that even if there is, it can, and will, all
be set right, which works such wonders with the
patients of Sir Alfred, big alike to look at and
in reputation, whose appearance and " out-of-
doors " air always seemed to me to suggest an
especially clever-looking admiral of the younger
sort.

Like so many other really distinguished members
of his own and other callings, notably that of the
Bar, Sir Alfred Fripp is a very regular first nighter
at the Theatre, and few plays of any consequence
are produced in Town, without his cheery pres-
ence in the stalls.

It takes all sorts to make a world, we know,
and it is just as well, in the interests of morality
and other matters, that we don't all think alike
about everything. But as poor Bertram, the re-
markable conjuror was wont to remark, " Isn't
it wonderful " how tastes differ in the matter of
plays ? Any playgoer, possessed of even limited
experience, can readily enough recall pieces which
failed to achieve success when produced in London,

THE BROKEN MELODY 165

but which did exceedingly well in the country,
and in America, and vice versa.

Take, for instance, the case of A Little Bit of
Fluff which was so great a success in London,
which was equally triumphant in the country,
and which failed lamentably in America.

The piece was produced in New York, with a
considerable amount of booming, as was only
natural after its London triumphs, and yet it
lasted exactly, and precisely, for one week — no
more and no less — while some of the American
dramatic critics appeared to marvel that it had
even existed as long as that !

Then there was The Boomerang, produced by
so successful a manager, and so keen and experi-
enced a judge of what ought to suit the London
public, as Sir Alfred Butt, who thought so much
of the piece when he saw it during the second year
of its run in New York. But the London public
would not have it ; stayed away from the theatre
where it was being given in vast numbers, and as
a result, the piece shortly afterwards ceased to be.

A still more remarkable instance of how the
theatrical fare of some folks is the absolute poison
of others, was the famous case of The Broken
Melody, produced by Mr. Van Biene, the eminent
'celloist, at the Prince of Wales' Theatre.

The piece was not a success on its first night ;
was a good deal hit about by the critics ; and its
London career was of the briefest.

166 A PELICAN'S TALE

Undismayed by this Mr. Van Biene took his
play and his 'cello on tour, and played both for
many years in the country to remarkable business,
so that The Broken Melody came to rival East
Lynne in provincial favour.

Then Van Biene thought the time was ripe to
show the piece to London once more, now that it
had been acclaimed by thousands of playgoers,
and had become an undoubted financial success.
So he reproduced it at the Old Princess* at Oxford
Street, Wilson Barrett's former home, and as no
doubt many will recollect the result of so doing,
was disastrous, and the play's failure quite re-
markable.

Then Van Biene took his property back to the
country, where it was once more received with
open arms, and a fresh fortune was added to
those already made by it. All of which is very
curious, and goes to show how greatly the taste
of playgoers varies in different places.

For my humble self I have always thought that
a dramatic author ought to write three versions
of his play. The first for the opening night in
London, when the audience is for the greater part
a professional one/which goes to the theatre on
no other occasions than first nights, and when even
every boy in the gallery is a keen critic. The
second version would be for subsequent London
performances, when the audiences are composed
of ordinary playgoers, who only occasionally

THE THREE- VERSION PLAY 167

visit the theatre ; and the third for the country,
which as a rule regards things differently from
London, and while no doubt provincial audiences
are just as keen, as just, and as critical as London
ones, it is a fact that they like plays and players
whom Londoners do not seem to take to, and vice
versa.

I remember suggesting the three-version play
idea to so experienced a dramatist as Sir Arthur
Pinero, and he quite agreed that there might be a
good deal of sound sense in what at first sight
seemed rather like the reasoning of the Mad
Hatter of " Alice in Wonderland."

Another sound judge of many matters, who
approved of my three editions' idea, when I put
it before him, was my old friend Sir Arthur
Pearson, whose magnificent work on behalf of his
fellow-sufferers from blindness is known to every-
one. If he had never done anything other than
the founding of his grand institution for blinded
soldiers at St. Dunstan's in Regent's Park, where
our maimed heroes are comforted, nursed back to
health and spirits, taught trades suitable to their
handicapped conditions, and re-started in life,
Sir Arthur Pearson's name would deserve to rank
very highly in the hearts of his fellow-countrymen
and women.

But he has done more than that, for the admir-
able Fresh Air Fund for the poorest children,
which has brought untold happiness into the lives

168 A PELICAN'S TALE

of thousands of the most poverty-stricken little
ones in the land, was his creation, and he had
much to do with the spreading of Tariff Reform,
Mr. Chamberlain's last and greatest scheme, for
the benefit of his fellow-countrymen.

It was Mr. Chamberlain who described Sir
Arthur as " the greatest hustler I have ever
known/' and the title was well deserved, for he
was ever the keenest and most enthusiastic of
workers at any duty or task he took in hand.
Indeed, as is generally known, Pearson lost his
precious eyesight in great measure through work-
ing far too hard.

And talking of Mr. Chamberlain who, till his
fatal illness fell upon him, was one of the most
remarkably youthful looking men, for his years,
of our time, and who always managed to seem so
fit and well, on the only occasion I was privileged
to meet him at a small luncheon party of three at
the National Club in Whitehall Gardens, I ven-
tured to ask him how he contrived in his tre-
mendously busy life always to look so wonderfully
in the pink, and I shall ever remember his re-
markable answer, as he regarded me fixedly
through the ever-present eyeglass, "By drinking
a great deal of port, and taking no exercise."

I don't know if the great man really did favour
that excellent, if very gouty wine, to any special
extent, but I do know that the taking of no
exercise at all to speak of, was a fact.

AN AUDACIOUS PROPOSAL 169

Sir Arthur Pearson's later life we all know, of
course, but his earlier days were just as notable in
their way.

He was a son of an Essex clergyman, had just
left Winchester, and was casting about for some-
thing to do, when he read the particulars of a
competition which was about to be started in the
weekly paper Tit Bits. He entered for this com-
petition, the first prize for which was a clerkship
in the office of Sir George Newnes, proprietor of
the paper, at a salary of £150 a year, and out of
many thousands of contestants, he won it. That
was an extraordinary feat in itself.

After he had served in Tit Bits office with
success for some time, the manager of the place
was taken ill, and young Pearson, walking into
Sir George Newnes' room suggested that he
should be given the position. Newnes, who was
at times a man of somewhat hasty temper,
nearly had a fit at what seemed to him the
audacity of the idea, but on Pearson hastening to
add that he merely desired to prove he was worthy
of the post, and that until he did so to Sir George's
satisfaction he would expect no increase of
salary, he was graciously allowed to take over the
immensely extended duties.

He carried these out with the greatest success
for four years, and at the end of that time once
more bearded the lion in his den, and in very
brief and spirited fashion, suggested that he

170 A PELICAN'S TALE

should now be made Sir George's partner ! At
this Newnes, I have been told, really very nearly
did collapse, and would not hear of the matter.
"If you cannot see your way to make me a
partner/' said Pearson, " I shall have to start
a paper of my own in competition with Tit
Bits."

" Have you any idea," said Newnes, " what
capital you would require to do anything of the
kind ? " " Yes," retorted Pearson, " with care
and economy it can be done with £10,000."

" And have you got 10,000 shillings ? " asked
the TitBits chief. " No, I haven't/' was the answer,
" but I am going out now to get it," and with that
he left the office.

It was then that a series of veritable miracles
happened one after another.

When he left Southampton Street, Pearson was
quite undecided whom he should favour by per-
mitting him to find £10,000 for his future venture.
He knew of Sir William Ingram, by name at least ;
knew that he was chief proprietor of The Illus-
trated London News and other papers, and re-
called the fact, that, like himself, Sir William was
an old Winchester boy.

And so he entered the office of the oldest of the
illustrated newspapers and asked to see Sir
William.

Now even in those days, Sir William Ingram
did not come to his office, by any means every

A GREAT HUSTLER 171

day, and on such days as he attended there were
naturally many important engagements to be
kept, and many equally important callers by
appointment for him to see. Without an ap-
pointment, it was naturallyimpossible to see the
chief.

" You have an appointment of course/' said
the clerk to whom Pearson had spoken. " What
name ? " " Pearson/' was the reply. The clerk,
who evidently did not hear quite distinctly,
looked down his list of appointments, and read
the name of one Leeson, who had an appointment,
said, " All right/' and showed Pearson into the
presence.

You may be quite sure that Mr. Chamberlain's
" greatest hustler " lost little time in telling his
story, and trotting out his project as rapidly as
possible, giving the greatly astonished baronet no
time to interrupt him, until the climax of the
tale was reached, wherein it was suggested to
him, that he would be doing himself no end of a
good turn if he would agree to find £10,000 for
the paper Pearson proposed to start !

Sir William was never a pale man ; indeed,
you would probably have described him as one
possessed of ruddy colour, but on the occasion in
question, I am given to understand he turned
positively purple.

" Let me understand things," said he at last.
" Do I take it that you, a perfect stranger to me,

172 A PELICAN'S TALE

believe that I will find £10,000 for a scheme
which seems to be quite devoid of the elements
of success — or is all this a very ill-timed joke ? '
Pearson answered him that the proposition was
an immensely serious one. " Then all 1 can say
is," said Sir William, " that I absolutely decline
to have anything to do with it," and the dis-
comfited Pearson, picking up his hat, prepared to
leave the room.

Then the third of the miracles happened. As
he arose from his chair, Providence, or some
other agency, prompted him to say something
about this being rather a rough way to treat an
old Winchester boy.

" What was that you said about Winchester ? '
said Sir William, always keen about anything
and anyone connected with his old school. " Were
you there ? In whose house were you ? Sit down
for a minute."

Pearson sat down ; and remained down for
about two hours. At the end of that time Sir
William Ingram had agreed to find the money to
start Pearson's Weekly, and Sir George Newnes'
late manager returned to Southampton Street,
to pick up his greatcoat, incidentally to tell his
former chief that his new partner was one of the
best-known newspaper proprietors in England,
and you may readily imagine that the Tit Bits
magnate was anything but pleased to hear the
tidings.

SUCCESSES 173

Pearson's Weekly was a success from its start,
and Sir William Ingram, it is satisfactory to know,
did very well indeed out of his investment. After-
wards came Pearson's Magazine, and many subse-
quently weekly papers, also in time Sir Arthur
started the Daily Express, and likewise acquired
The Standard, which latter purchase, however, he
no doubt regretted. His unfortunate eye trouble
put an end to his daily newspaper work, but he
still remains chairman of the big newspaper-
owning company which bears his name.

It is curious and rather interesting to recall
here how some men who have succeeded abun-
dantly in various walks of life got their starts,
and as an instance of how a very small circum-
stance attended the beginning of the career of a
very well-known novelist of the present day, let
me tell the following : —

When my old friend John Latey succeeded
Mr. Clement Shorter as editor of The Sketch, that
gentleman having moved on to Great New Street
to start The Sphere and later on The Tatler, he
found himself in want of an assistant, and believing
that I knew a good deal about the man he had
in his mind for the job, he called upon me one
day to ask me about him.

The man in question, though a very good jour-
nalist in many ways, was quite unsuited for the
sort of work which I knew Latey would require of
him, so I told my good friend exactly what I

174 A PELICAN'S TALE

thought, and gave my reasons for the opinion I
had formed.

Latey quite agreed with me that his first idea
was not a good one, and said he was very glad he
had had a chance of discussing the matter. " I
think/' said he, " I will now settle with a very
nice and likely young fellow named Bell whom I
have seen. He is an Oxford man, and like your-
self the son of a clergyman. He has not had
very much journalistic experience so far, but he
gives me the impression that he will be all right/'

" The young fellow named Bell/' was duly
engaged and became assistant editor of The
Sketch, and proved so very much all right that
when John Latey died, he became editor in chief
of the paper, later on dramatic critic of the Daily
Mail, and a famous novelist also, for he is the
well-known author and playwright who under the
name of Keble Howard has written so much that
is interesting and charming.

Of course Keble Howard would have got on no
matter how he had started, but if it had not been
for the little conversation which Latey and I
had, he would not, in all human probability, have
succeeded in precisely the same way ; all of which
goes to prove that very small matters push the
accomplishment of our destinies one way or the
other.

CHAPTER XII

What a well-known player said — Her advice to budding actresses
— Lady Orkney at the Gaiety and elsewhere — The Sisters
Gilchrist— " The Little Grattans "—Mr. Harry Grattan's early
experiences — How luck comes to some — And how others
refuse her advances — Colonel North and Nunthorpe's City
and Suburban victory — A long-priced winner — Sir Joseph
Lyons and the start of a great business — A lost opportunity —
The real beginning of the great Lyons concern — How a single
song made a singer — The story of " Far, Far Away " — Miss
Lottie Collins and her " Boom-de-ay " success — Mr. Arthur
Roberts and his zebra bathing suit — His philosophical dresser
— The smart restaurants of the time — Those who controlled
them — The passing of the famous bars — " Captain Criterion
of London " — Romano and his presentation loving cup — His
very sudden death — Miss Gladys Cooper's first supper party —
Gaiety girls who got on — Nellie Farren's reason for never
quarrelling with a chorus girl — Very sound advice.

ATTERY well-known actress who achieved
great artistic as well as financial suc-
cess, and who came from compara-
tively humble beginnings, has left it
upon record, that she who would succeed upon the
stage should shun the chorus. To become a
member of the chorus is, according to the lady,
to stop there, in nine cases out of ten, and her
advice to beginners is, that some sort of part,
however small, in some sort of company, however
humble, should be tried for.

It is admitted of course that there are instances

175

176 A PELICAN'S TALE

— many of them — wherein actresses who began
their careers in the chorus came to greatness in
the theatrical world, became leading ladies and
even actress-manageresses, but as a rule, our
authority says to those who seek her advice,
" Shun the chorus."

She may be right ; certainly her experience
entitles her to respect, but — well, there are lots of
" buts " about the matter. And, by the way, let
me here correct an error which has frequently
found its way into print. It has been recorded of
Lady Orkney, familiar to old time Gaiety patrons
as Miss Connie Gilchrist, that she began her
career in the chorus ; but this is incorrect, for
she and her sister Marie used to dance at the
music-halls as " The Sisters Gilchrist," prior to
joining the Gaiety Company.

Miss Connie Gilchrist's best dance was one per-
formed with a skipping rope, that in which her
sister Marie excelled being a species of Russian
measure, performed in red Morocco top boots, and
it was because of the success of her skipping rope
dance that Miss Connie was engaged to appear in
a children's pantomime at the Adelphi, by Mr.
Chatterton. In this pantomime by the way, two
of the leading parts were played by " The Little
Grattans," the said little ones being Miss Emilie
and Mr. Harry Grattan, now so well known
as the author of very successful revues and
musical comedies.

POPULAR FAVOURITES 177

The triumph of the Gilchrist skipping rope
measure led in turn to its exponent being secured
by John Hollingshead for the old Gaiety.

For a good many years Miss Gilchrist was one
of the most admired, talked about, photographed,
and paragraphed young women in London, as well
as one of the chief attractions at the theatre
wherein she appeared. In The Sporting Times
and other journals, which devoted a deal of
space to her sayings and doings, she was usually
alluded to as " The Child/' and a drawing of
her formed part of the adornment of the front
page of the brown paper cover of The Bat1 each
week.

And, by the way, mention of " The Little
Grattans " recalls the fact that, although he is
still a comparatively young man, Mr. Harry
Grattan and his sister played the young Princes
in Richard III, with Barry Sullivan, who although
never at quite the top of the tree in London, was
a tremendous favourite in the country, greater
indeed in many towns than Henry Irving.

Mr. Grattan was for several years the under-
study of Mr. Arthur Roberts at the old Avenue,
and it was to a considerable extent, by the clever
performances he gave in " The Gasper's " parts,

1 A paper owned and edited by Mr. James Davis, much better
known later on as " Owen Hall," author of A Gaiety Girl, The
Geisha, An Artist's Model, and other very successful productions at
Daly's Theatre, during the George Edwardes' period of manage-
ment.

M

178 A PELICAN'S TALE

that he attracted special attention, got his chance,
and took it.

And just as some people are fortunate enough
to seize the opportunities which come to all of us
— and are generally missed — with both hands, so
do many of us absolutely push Fortune away,
when she is trying to do us a good turn.

It seems a longish way back to the City and
Surburban of 1890, but about a fortnight before
the race, the one and only " Swears " told me he
knew that Nunthorpe was going to win. I had
even then suffered so severely from backing the
" certainties " given me by various good friends,
that I was somewhat sceptical, for I knew that
the horse was Colonel North's, that his price was
twenty-five to one, and that North's other repre-
sentative in the race was L'Abesse de Jouarre who
stood at something quite short — three or four to
one, I fancy, and seemed likely to start at level
money on the day of the race.

Moreover, North's commissioner had one day
pulled " Swears " into a corner of the Pelican
Club, and had, by way of doing him a turn, told
him that L'Abesse was unquestionably the right
pea for the event. In proof of this he showed
" Swears " his betting book. By some mischance
or other, he showed the eagle-eyed one a wrong
page, for it was covered over with entries of bets
about Nunthorpe, which seemed to make it
reasonably clear that this was actually the horse

LYONS AND THE TROC. 179

he hoped to win with. " Swears " with great
good sense backed Nunthorpe for a large sum,
and it will be recollected that his starting price
was twenty-five to one.

Although " Swears " passed on the good news
to me in the kindliest way possible, I with hideous
Scottish caution fearing that " Your Old Pro-
prietor's " eyesight might have been playing
tricks with him, only had a couple of sovereigns
on, so that fifty pounds was all I made out of what
was really the chance of a lifetime.

On another occasion I had a singular oppor-
tunity of doing myself some good, but being ever
a poor gambler, with but small opinion of my own
luck, I let the chance slip.

I was standing one day by the big bay window
of the old Eccentric Club looking down on to
Shaftesbury Avenue, when the late Sir Joseph
Lyons came up to me and, pointing across the
street, to the site of the very unfortunate Tro-
cadero Music-hall, in the control of which so
many people had lost fortunes, said, " You go
about a good deal and know most of the rest-
aurants in Town. What do you say to one just
there ? "

Now, I want you to recollect, before you con-
demn my reply, that Shaftesbury Avenue was
then comparatively a new thoroughfare, that the
old Troc. had been a positive dump-hole for con-
siderable sums of money, and that Joe Lyons

i8o A PELICAN'S TALE

himself was not specially flourishing at the time,
having just had a somewhat disastrous season at
Olympia, with the big Constantinople show, which
came after the very successful Venice in London ;
so I said, " Well, Joe, unless you are going to have
some extraordinarily novel features about the
place, I can't see that it will stand a chance.
There is the East Room at the Criterion for smart
people, there are Monico's and half a dozen other
places close by for the lesser mortals. The whole
neighbourhood is catered for/'

" Then/' said he, " you don't fancy the idea
and you wouldn't care to be in it "; and I said I
did not, and wouldn't.

Now, as all the world knows, the Trocadero
Restaurant was duly built, was started in a blaze
of triumph, and has continued its remarkable
success ever since, and out of that start came all
the other innumerable Lyons' enterprises, each
of which seems to have been more successful than
that which went before it. And I had the chance
of being in on the ground floor and would not
take it ! Years afterwards I was glad to buy
shares in the Company, paying a very stiff price
for them, and dear old Joe, who was one of the
kindliest and most amusing of men, as well as one
of the shrewdest I ever knew, never tired of chaff-
ing me about my mistake.

Another case of lost opportunity was that of
the seller of the song " Far, Far Away," with

A FAMOUS SONG 181

which the late Slade Murray drew all London to
the old Pavilion and elsewhere when he happened
to be singing it, and which, when published, was
sold by the tens of thousands of copies, all over
the world.

Murray told me that he gave exactly one guinea
for the song, which became worth thousands to
him, in increased salaries and publishing rights.
His acquisition of it came about this way. He
was one day sitting in the Bodega in Chancery
Lane, with the late Pat Feeney, the famous Irish
songster of the time.

To Feeney there entered one, who producing a
song from his pocket, besought the Hibernian
vocalist to purchase it. Feeney did not want a
new song at the time and said so, handing it over
to Murray, who just glanced at it, pushed it into
his greatcoat pocket, and gave the guinea asked
for it, more out of good nature than for any other
reason.

He did not look at the song again for some
weeks ; in fact he forgot all about it, till one day,
coming upon it by chance, he tried it over, thought
the melody so taking, that although he did not
fancy the words to any great extent, it seemed
good enough to try at one of the halls wherein he
was appearing at that time.

Well, he did try it at the old Trocadero, and it
was so great a success that Slade Murray, who, at
that time, was merely a fairly good second-rate

182 A PELICAN'S TALE

singer, became, for a period at least, the most
popular comic vocalist in London.

After the success of " Far Far Away " was worn
threadbare, Slade Murray went back in the
betting as an attraction, and try as he would, he
never could find another song to take its place,
just as Miss Lottie Collins, mother of Miss Jose
Collins of Daly's, who made so extraordinary a
triumph with " Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay," that she
had to sing it at the Gaiety as well as at about
half a dozen music-halls a night, never found a
legitimate successor to it.

It is said that few men are heroes to their own
valets, and I fear few dressers hold the actors and
actresses they help into and out of their things, in
any very special regard. The fact is they get to
know them too well, and we all know what too
much " familiararity " as the shorter and stouter
of these erstwhile philosophers of the music-hall,
" The Two Macs " was wont to term it, will do.

Some years back, there was a happy time, when
Arthur Roberts, the late " Mons " Marius, husband
of that delightful singer, Miss Florence St. John,
and my lowly self, used to take our early morning
swim at Hobden's Bath, which was next to the
Grand Hotel at Brighton, and one day Arthur
invested in a remarkable bathing costume of
black and white stripes.

The effect was quite excellent, and very well
" The Gasper " looked in it, but by some evil

MR. ARTHUR ROBERTS

THE DRESSER SPEAKS 183

chance or other, the dye came off on his lily white
skin, with the result that, in an undraped con-
dition, he looked like an American convict clad
in garments of superlatively excellent fit.

One evening, during the playing of Joan of
Arc, then being given at the local and immediate
Theatre Royal, I looked in at his dressing-room.
The excellent comedian in those days, though
generally a most amiable fellow, used at times to
lose his temper with his celebrated dresser Frank
if he was a trifle slow with one of his quick changes
of costume. When I called, Roberts was on the
stage, so Frank regaled me with light and sparkling
conversation.

" How is Mr. Roberts to-night ? " I asked,
being painfully aware that there had been a some-
what large and lengthy luncheon party earlier in
the day. " How is he/' retorted the dresser ;
" how is he ? You may well ask. Oh, Mr. Boyd,
he's like this. He has the temper of a rhinoceros
to-night, and as for his body — well that's like a
ruddy zebra ! "

Some little way back, I referred to the East
Room of the Criterion, which, at one time, was
quite the smartest feeding place in town, sharing
favour in this regard with the Caf6 Royal, and the
Bristol in Cork Street, just opposite the office of
the very well-known money-lender, Sam Lewis.

There was no Savoy, then, of course, no Cecil,
Ritz, or Carlton, and the Berkeley as we know it

184 A PELICAN'S TALE

to-day did not exist. Verrey's, the Burlington,
Epitaux, and the Solferino were popular, but in
those days, Romano's was quite a small place,
and more of a man's restaurant than anything
else, though the female lights of the theatrical
and music-hall worlds, were sometimes to be seen
there.

The East Room was always controlled by famous
restaurateurs, and though Mr. Paul Cremieu
Javal — usually known as " Peter " — at one time
secretary to Mr. Felix Spiers, one of the founders
of Spiers and Pond, and anon managing-director
of that firm, was understood to have had a deal
to do with the creation of the place, Mella, later
on of the "Star and Garter" at Richmond, was
its first manager.

After him came Bertini, who certainly had a
deal to do with making the East Room fashionable,
and when he left to become the first manager of
the Hotel Cecil, he was succeeded by Oddenino,
who in turn after being at the Criterion, and ful-
filling one or two engagements in Town and on
the Continent, became manager of the Cafe Royal,
prior to opening his own restaurant a little lower
down in Regent Street.

When Oddenino left the Cafe Royal, Judah,
who had followed Bertini at the Cecil, became
manager of the famous Nicol Restaurant, and has
remained there ever since. The very palmy days
of the East Room were at the time when the

BARS 185

Langham and the Grand were considered the
most modern and smartest of hotels. Luigi, so
long manager of Romano's, and anon maitre
d'hotel of Ciro's, has since his coming to the
Criterion won back much of its erstwhile popu-
larity.

One of the most paying portions of the Criterion
and of its sister Spiers and Pond Restaurant, the
Gaiety, was the vast bar, at which about twenty
barmaids, specially selected young women of
great physical attractiveness, were kept busily
employed each day, till the place closed half an
hour after midnight. Off the main bar room at
the Criterion, was the American Bar, which
achieved quite a deal of undesirable notoriety by
reason of the " Boys " or " lads of the village "
who used to assemble there, and find the place a
very happy hunting ground.

During the time the American Bar was at the
height of its fame — or otherwise — the " Great Mac-
dermott " sang a song at the old Pavilion called
" Captain Criterion of London/' which made a
considerable stir at the time, and led to an in-
junction of the ditty, which in those days there is
no harm in telling was the work of Cecil Raleigh,
at that time secretary of the Pelican Club, and
later on the author of many very successful autumn
dramas at Drury Lane.

Big bars, like those of the Criterion, the St.
James', and the Gaiety, have been dead and gone

i86 A PELICAN'S TALE

for some years past, while Romano's bar, Darm-
statter's and the other places, famous in the
ultra-alcoholic days, are things of the past.

The old Gaiety bar of course went when the
old Gaiety Theatre ceased to be, while the New
Gaiety Restaurant was not successful, and is now
the abiding place of the Marconi Cable Company.
The old Romano's, which was quite a tiny place,
was burnt down, and then Romano, who was a
very remarkable and amusing character, rebuilt the
place very much as you see it to-day.

When the newly erected restaurant was com-
plete, and after it had been going for some little
time, a number of the representatives and partners
of the great champagne houses gave " The
Roman " a dinner of very fine and large dimen-
sions, and presented him with a handsome silver
loving cup.

Although Romano had lived for many years in
this country, he never contrived to speak English
in other than his own remarkable fashion. On
the night of the banquet in his honour, seeing me
among the guests, he clutched me by the arm and
said, " Boyd Esquire, donta leave por ole Roman.
You sitta nex me. You prompt when I maka da
speech of tanks." And I did as I was asked.

"The Roman's" health was duly proposed at
the end of the terribly long banquet, by one of
the partners of a very famous champagne firm
who came there specially to do the deed. He said

DINNERS AND DINERS 187

in course of his remarks, " We don't know how
old Romano is, but we hope that hell live till he's
twice as old to drink out of this loving cup which
I will now ask him to accept/' And poor old
Romano, who was by this time, very much over-
come by emotion and things, lurched heavily
against me, and gurgled " Boyd Esquire, if por
ole Roman 'e live to be that age 'e be 'under-and-
twenty-sixa."

That night after the place was closed Romano,
feeling the heat, went for a walk in the Strand
without his greatcoat. He caught a chill, and in
less than a week he was dead.

It was after his death that Walter Pallant,
George Edwardes of the Gaiety, Mr. W. Purefoy,
the well-known race-horse owner, Colonel Newn-
ham Davis— " The Dwarf of Blood "—of The
Sporting Times and anon of Town Topics, formed
a company to run the place under the style and
title of Romano's Limited, and in their control
the restaurant grew steadily in favour, and greatly
improved in standing.

Romano's was always in close touch with the
Gaiety, and the place was ever at its brightest and
best at supper time after a Gaiety first night,
when the management usually arranged for a
special licence, and there was dancing and lots of
harmless fun until the small hours.

For instance, after the first night of The Girls
of Gottenburg, a big supper party was given by

i88 A PELICAN'S TALE

Newnham Davis and someone else whose name I
can't recall, which was attended by many of the
charming ladies, who had delighted us on the
stage earlier in the evening.

Among them was a very pretty and very young
lady who was probably about sixteen or so. I am
not sure if " her golden hair was hanging down her
back " like the damsel in the song Mr. Seymour
Hicks used to sing ; but anyhow if it was up, it
had only just been put up. She was Miss Gladys
Cooper, at that time the bonniest of the Gaiety
flappers, and she was attending her first supper
party.

Since those days, Miss Cooper has gone ahead
and done great things, and like all the young
ladies who got a chance at more serious work than
came their way at Daly's and the Gaiety, she took
every advantage of the opportunities which came
to her at the Royalty and elsewhere, and made
very good indeed. Now, as everyone knows, she
is an actress-manageress, in partnership with Mr.
Frank Curzon, at the Playhouse, and is one of
the best and most popular actresses of her own
line in Town.

It is interesting, too, to note that the other out-
standing young actress-manageress, Miss Marie
Lohr, was also at one time of the George Edwardes
fold, and appeared in an unimportant part in The
Little Michus at Daly's, from which house so many
other well-known actresses came, to name only

NELLIE FARREN 189

Miss Ethel Irving, and Miss Marie Tempest among
the number.

Some of those who did big things after leaving
the Gaiety and Daly's, began at one or other of
those houses in the chorus, and all credit to them
for getting on as they have done. In this con-
nection one recalls the words of Miss Nellie Farren,
an exceedingly shrewd woman as well as the best
burlesque boy of her time — or perhaps of any
other time — " I never quarrel with a chorus girl,"
she said, " she may be a manageress next week,
you know." And the thing is true enough. It
has happened.

CHAPTER XIII

Something about Cecil Rhodes — Meeting him in Sir Starr Jame-
son's flat — A wonderful man — His remarkable opinion of the
German Kaiser — How Mr. Rhodes signed his photograph —
His long-drawn-out death — What he said to Jameson near
the end — An indifferent musician — But an appreciative
listener — Some eminent composers at their best — How I
saved Sir Arthur Sullivan's life — Sir William Gilbert — A
" Gentish " Person — Lewis Carroll — Golf stories — Music-mak-
ing in strange places — How Ivan Caryll thought his fortune was
made early in life — Miss Bessie Bellwood and the retort
courteous — A remarkable cabman — A private recital by
Paderewski to an audience of six — Bessie's opinion of Provi-
dence— How Mr. James Buchanan came to London — And
how Sir Thomas Dewar followed his lead — Fortunes out of
whisky — Spirits which you drink, and spirits which you see
— The ghost at Glamis Castle — The story Lord Strathmore
told — The subscription-seeking clergyman and the embar-
rassed spectre- — How the ghost was effectively laid — Willing
but impecunious — Frank Richardson the " Whisker " expert
— My list of suicides — A sad and curious coincidence.

ONE of the biggest men in every way, I
ever met, was Cecil Rhodes, and al-
though a brother of mine was a close
friend of the great South African, and
for some years his political secretary, I only had
the good fortune to see him once, and that was in
Sir Starr Jameson's flat in Down Street, Picca-
dilly, where he lived when in London, with Sir
John Willoughby and my brother Charles as his

immediate neighbours.

190

CECIL RHODES 191

Like almost everyone else I regarded Mr. Rhodes
as a very great man indeed, wellnigh super-
human in point of fact, but it was an expression
of opinion which he gave vent to on the occasion
I saw him, which made me wonder, if after all
even the greatest of mortals could not make
mistakes. Rhodes had been staying with the
Kaiser in Berlin, and the Chief of the Huns had
made a great fuss of him. An important person
who was in the room at the time I allude to, said
to him, in course of conversation, " Now tell me,
Rhodes, is the Kaiser simply an egotistical ass,
or a really big man ? " and I remember well, how
the South African turned his curious light blue
eyes on the questioner, and becoming grave and
serious as he did so, said in a very deliberate way,
with a distinct pause between each word, " A
very great man indeed ! '

I was only a listener, of course, but in my heart
I did not agree with Mr. Rhodes even then.
Certainly he would have revised his opinion of
the " All Highest/' had he been alive to-day.

On that occasion — a memorable one to me — I
had a photograph of Mr. Rhodes with me, his
favourite picture, the familiar full-face bust por-
trait, and I ventured to ask him to sign it for me.

" Why on earth do you want me to do that ? '
he asked, with real surprise, and I told him that it
would make the portrait of special value. " Do
you know/' he said, as he scribbled his name

192 A PELICAN'S TALE

across the photograph, " I don't think I ever
signed my photograph before — I don't think I
was ever even asked to do so."

In that case my treasured portrait must be the
more valuable to-day, for of course he will sign
no more of them now.

Some years afterwards, when Rhodes had gone
to his last rest, in the wonderful Matoppos,
Jameson, who was his closest friend, told me
several things about his end, one of which there
is no harm in repeating now.

The great man was dying for quite a long time,
but he had much to tell Jameson of the work he
desired to be carried on, and time was all too
limited. One day, very near the end, when he
was giving the future Prime Minister of South
Africa numerous pointers, which he in turn was
writing down, Rhodes, who was, as a rule, as
devoid of sentiment as any man could well be,
suddenly stopped, gave a sort of sob, and said,
"I suppose you know, Jameson, what you have
always been to me."

The reply was characteristic of Jameson. Time
was short, there was much still to be told, and
anything like a breakdown would have been
fatal. Bringing his fist down hard upon a table
Jameson cried, " Full stop, Rhodes ! 'Jl and the
dying man bowed his head, and said, " I beg your
pardon/' and straightway continued his business-
like directions.

s

CECIL RHODES, THE GREAT EMPIRE BUILDER

ALFRED CELLIER 193

Jameson was one of the gentlest, kindest, and
best hearted men that ever lived. He was devoted
in every way to Rhodes, but he knew his man and
the right way to treat him in the circumstances,
and he did it.

Although I am not much of a musician, being
at best something like a twelfth or twentieth rate
performer on the violin, I have always been
devotedly attached to music, and I have had the
good fortune to number several well-known com-
posers of the lighter sort, among my friends.

Poor Alfred Cellier, composer of Dorothy and
much else, was one of them, and in connection
with him and his playing, I have always regretted
my inability to write musical shorthand, if there
be such a thing, for he composed so many charming
pieces of all sorts, while I formed an appreciative
and insatiable audience of one, and as these were
not committed to paper, they were lost for all time.

Alfred used to be in his best composing mood
about three in the morning at the old Pelican
Club, and then I would lure him to the piano, and
get him to play whatever came into his head, and
according to my recollection some uncommonly
fine things were created on those occasions, all
unfortunately lost, simply because there was no
one present to jot them down.

Sir Arthur Sullivan I did not know, but I fancy
I saved his life on one occasion, some little time
before his all too early death. We travelled one

194 A PELICAN'S TALE

day from Richmond to Waterloo in the same
railway carriage, and at Vauxhall his manservant
came to the door, as had evidently been arranged,
and said " This is Vauxhall, Sir Arthur." " Oh,
is it," replied the composer, " then I ought to get
out here." But just then the train started ; the
servant bolted back to his own compartment,
while Sullivan, gathering up some papers and a
rug, and apparently quite regardless of the fact
that the train was now moving rapidly, began to
open the door.

" You can't get out now," I said, and caught
him by the arm, closing the door which he had
managed to open. He appeared to be somewhat
dazed for a second or two, and then sat down in
his seat very pale and agitated. " I suppose it is
just as well I did not try to jump out," he said,
" I might have been killed." And so he certainly
would have been. " I expect you have saved my
life," he added. " May I ask your name ? " I
told him who I was, and he said, " My name is
Sullivan." I replied that of course his name,
fame, and appearance were all very well known
to me, and we parted amicably at Waterloo.

It was the only time I ever met the composer
whose work has given such real pleasure to
millions of people in all parts of the world.

Sullivan naturally reminds one of Gilbert just
as whisky does of soda, although I would not
have any one pursue the simile too far.

A " GENTISH " PERSON 195

It is the fortune, good or evil, of many famous
persons to be very much misunderstood by the
big Public, and I fancy that seldom was a man
more generally given credit for a personality quite
other than his own, than was the case with Sir
W. H. Gilbert, ever to be remembered for his
matchless series of Savoy Comic Operas, in
collaboration with Sir Arthur Sullivan.

Till one actually came to know the man, one
shared the opinion held by so many, that he was
a gruff, disagreeable person ; but nothing could
be less true of the really great humorist.

He had rather a severe appearance it is true,
and like many other clever people, he had precious
little use for fools of either sex, but he was at heart
as kindly and lovable a man as you could wish
to meet.

I recall many matters of interest which he was
good enough to tell me at various times, some of
them things I should like, if I dared, to reproduce
here, and it was always very fascinating — if you
could induce him to do so — to hear him talk of
old times and of famous people.

Dickens he had known well. He considered
him " a great genius, of course ; everyone must
admit that/' Asked what sort of man the great
novelist was to look at and talk to, I mind me
well how Sir William thought for a little, and
then said : "He was — if you understand me — a
' gentish ' person."

196 A PELICANS TALE

One quite understood at least what Gilbert
meant, just as one could readily imagine the effect
which such an expression of opinion would have
had on Edmund Yates, ever the most constant
disciple that even Dickens possessed.

Sir William's readiness of reply, especially to
silly questions asked by boring people, is em-
phasised in the many stories told of him. Accord-
ing to some of these the eminent humorist was
not especially polite at times, but it is of course
to be remembered that in all probability many of
these tales are not true, for every one knows how
stories of various sorts and kinds tend to become
attached to celebrated people.

The following may or may not be historical,
but in any case it is a typical Gilbert story of the
more moderate sort.

During a visit to America Sir William, who had
not at that time received his title, was one evening
at a dinner party, and later on in the drawing-room
he met, among many others, an excellent lady
who, after the regulation rhapsody concerning his
work in connection with Sullivan, proceeded to
discuss other well-known composers at very
tedious length.

Said she, among much else, " Do you know, Mr.
Gilbert, I admire the music of Bach so much ;
yes, I cannot tell you how much I admire Bach ;
is he still composing ? "

The answer was remarkable and very Gilbertian.

ALICE IN WONDERLAND 197

" No, Madam, not so far as I know. Indeed I
should say he is now decomposing ! "

I wonder if children still read Alice's Adventures
in Wonderland; I hope they do, for that and its
sequel, Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice
Found There, published two years later, are as
every one knows — or used to know — two of the
most delightful books ever written for children of
all ages, and I am glad that I still possess my
copies of the first editions published in 1870 and
1872 respectively.

As all playgoers are aware the two books of
" Lewis Carroll/' who was a clergyman, the Rev
C. L. Dodgson, were dramatised by Saville Clarke
with music by Walter Slaughter, but everyone
probably does not know that at first it was Mr.
Dodgson's idea to make a play of the stories him-
self, and to this end he approached Sir Arthur
Sullivan about doing the music.

Nothing, however, came of the matter, for
Sullivan was too busy at the time to deal with
" Alice/' and Mr. Dodgson found that there was
all the difference in the world between writing a
story and making a stage version of it. Finally,
if Saville Clarke had not come along, and after a
vast deal of talk induced the somewhat crotchety
old gentleman to listen to reason, the stage
version of Alice in Wonderland produced at the
Prince's Theatre — now the Prince of Wales' — in
'83 by Edgar Bruce, with Miss Phoebe Carlo in

198 A PELICAN'S TALE

the title part, would in all probability have never
been given.

Talking of one composer recalls another, and
although of course Paul Rubens would have been
the last man in the world to permit the faintest
suggestion that he was anywhere in the same
street with Sir Arthur Sullivan, the poor young
fellow who died so pitifully early, composed some
very pretty and clever music.

Before his last illness took too severe a hold
upon him, Rubens told me that one of the happiest
things which had befallen him, was when he fell a
victim to the charms of golf, and although he was
never much of a player, he was for a time at least
very keen about the game, and took special pride
in the fact that he had lured George Edwardes
under its spell.

The eminent theatrical manager became quite
a golf enthusiast for a period, during which it was
one of his special joys that he was able to beat
Rubens. One day on meeting Paul, I asked him
how his golf was progressing, and he replied, " Oh
splendidly. I am improving every day/'

Knowing how indifferent a player George
Edwardes was, but also recollecting that he had
vanquished my companion, I said, " Well, hang it
all, Paul, you can't be very good yet, for George
Edwardes tells me that he beat you the other
day."

" Did George tell you that ? " he said. " Well,

A GOLFING STORY 199

now ril tell you something. Each time we got
on to the Green I asked George how many strokes
he had played, and each time he replied, ' I'm not
quite sure, but / know I've got two for the hole ! '
Do you wonder that I lost ? "

Here is another little golfing story, the hero of
which is a well-known actor who need not be too
closely identified. With all due deference to him,
he is no great performer on the links of the club
he is a member of, nor does he, as a matter of fact,
play very often. One day, however, he was play-
ing, and as usual playing very indifferently, al-
though he did not appear to be at all aware of the
fact. The caddy who was carrying his clubs was
a new lad — at least new to him — possessed of many
freckles and a face wholly devoid of expression.

Noticing that the caddy never once smiled nor
sneered at his employer's bad strokes, the player
after a time began to take quite a fancy to him.
At the end of the round he said, in the hope
doubtless of some sort of compliment, " I have
been so busy lately that I am quite out of prac-
tice. That is why I am in such poor form to-day."
The caddy gazed at him incredulously for a second
or two, and then replied, " Gordelpus ! then you
'ave played golf before ! ):

And talking of this hero reminds me of an inci-
dent which occurred to his wife, who is, like her
husband, a person of considerable standing on the
Stage.

200 A PELICAN'S TALE

There is a certain vendor of birds and beasts of
various sorts and kinds, whose familiar premises
are situated not very far from Charing Cross. To
him there came one day the eminent actress who
desired to acquire a parrot, and naturally enough
the bird fancier had precisely the one and only
bird calculated to suit her, which had only been
sold him half an hour previously by a gentleman
of seafaring aspect, who looked considerably the
worse for wear.

The lady liked the parrot ; the seller approved
of the price he had induced her to pay for it ; the
parrot did not care one way or the other, and so
everyone was pleased.

The sequel happened two days later, when the
lady drove up in a taxi and, entering the miniature
menagerie, demanded that the proprietor should
immediately be brought before her, and when he
appeared she said, " Do you know that parrot
which I bought from you the other day uses the
most dreadful language. What am I to do about
it? " "Ah, Mum," retorted the bird seller, "I
should have warned you, but I thought you would
have known. You see these birds will pick up
anything. You'll have to be very careful what
you say before that parrot ! ' Feeling herself
Utterly defeated, the lady took her departure
without another word.

During the time my old friend Howard Talbot
was composing the music of The Arcadians, one

CARYLL'S START 201

of his most successful pieces, he and I went on a
little voyage to the Canaries, and on ship board,
and in various places such as Black Horse Square,
Lisbon, where King Carlos was so foully murdered ;
outside the English club at Teneriffe ; and seated
on the roadside at Oratava, ideas came to the
good Talbot and were duly preserved on the
backs of envelopes while I sat still and watched
in admiration.

Although he was born at Liege in Belgium my
good friend Ivan Caryll is by parentage a Pole
and was christened Felix Tilkins. And one day
when we were motoring from Boulogne to Paris,
we stopped at Abbeville for luncheon and walked
round to the Town Hall looking at it with special
interest, for it was there that Felix when little
more than a lad had been engaged in the Town
Orchestra, as one of the second violins. His
salary then was a very small one, but on getting
the job he wrote home to his mother like a dutiful
son, to point out that his fortune was now made.
As he himself said, if anyone at that time had
told him that in comparatively few years he would
be motoring past the place in his own car, a highly
successful composer and a wealthy man, how
utterly impossible the prophecy would have ap-
peared.

Ivan Caryll, who is a pattern of kindly good-
nature, is among many other things a very excel-
lent story-teller, and unlike most tellers of tales

202 A PELICAN'S TALE

does not mind when they are somewhat against
himself, resembling in this regard the celebrated
Bessie Bellwood, always the cheeriest of person-
alities, as well as one of the very brightest orna-
ments of the music-hall stage in her day, and I
well recollect one little story she related to " Tale-
Pitcher " Binstead, then of the Sporting Times,
and myself, in her carriage on our way back from
the funeral of a mutual friend.

One morning as Bessie came out of Dane's Inn,
then in the Strand, to get into her hansom, she
remarked to the driver thereof, a famous character
named Billy King, who drove the late Duke of
Manchester, Lord Aylesbury, and other lights of
leading of the period, " Well, Billy, it's quite a
warm morning." To which that hero, appar-
ently peevish at having been kept waiting in the
sunshine for a couple of hours, retorted, " Yes, it
is ; and it would be a blanked sight warmer if
there were many more like you about." All of
which was very homely and pleasant, and nobody
minded at all, for Billy was a very privileged
person.

And still harping upon musicians recalls an
interesting hour or two I spent at the old Eccentric
Club in Shaftesbury Avenue, in the early hours
of one memorable morning.

It was, I fancy, about half-past one or two, that
I entered the Club and was going up the photo-
graph-lined stairs, with a very musical companion,

PRESIDENT PADEREWSKI 203

when we heard some one playing the piano in the
big room. " By Jove ! " cried my friend, " that
man plays well — he plays beautifully — quite like
Paderewski," and then we opened the swing door
leading into the room, where the piano was, and
we saw that the player actually was Paderewski
himself. The great pianist was good enough to
play to a little audience of half a dozen for quite a
long time, and, moreover, to improvise several
things which came into his head, which made me
regret more than ever that musical shorthand, if
there be such a thing, and I were not on terms of
intimacy.

" God is good to the Irish and not bad to the
Scotch/' was a frequent sentiment of Miss Bell-
wood, and one thinks of at least a couple of one's
countrymen who have fared uncommonly well in
London, at the hands of Providence, from small
beginnings.

A good many years ago it occurred to a certain
tall red-haired man who hailed from Glasgow,
that there was no reason at all why Londoners
should not be taught that whisky-and-soda was
just as good a drink as the then much more
familiar " B. and S."

Scotch whisky of a drinkable sort was then a
comparatively rare thing in England, and one
still recalls the dreadful brass-cleaning concoctions
which masqueraded under the style and title
thereof.

204 A PELICAN'S TALE

The tall sportsman from across the Border who
thought thusly, was Mr. James Buchanan, and
his business head-quarters were a couple of small
offices in Bucklersbury, from whence came the
" House of Commons Blend. " Of the arrival of
" Black and White " and other things, and the
subsequent migration to the palatial premises at
Black Swan Distillery, Holborn, and the acquire-
ment of colossal wealth, most people are aware.

Later than Mr. Buchanan there came another
Scot who hailed from the fair city of Perth, and
when he arrived in London and sought to engage
small offices in Craig's Court, near Charing Cross,
the landlord knew so little of him that he de-
manded and received his diminutive rent in
advance.

The new-comer was likewise a vendor of " The
Curse of Scotland/' and though his name was un-
familiar to Londoners in those days, it is well
known now, for he was Sir Thomas Dewar.

A few years back the " brither Scots" com-
bined their businesses, with a capital for the
joint companies, of five million pounds, which
sum is surely calculated to make present day tee-
totalers and anti-almost everything people, sit up
and take very considerable notice.

Mr. Buchanan is, or was, a prominent figure on
the Turf and quite a famous owner. Sir Thomas
Dewar, on the other hand, favours dogs more than
horses, and is keen about big game shooting.

THE RIGHT HOX. L. S. JAMESON, C.B., AND MR. CHARLES BOYD, C.M.G.
HIS ONE TIME POLITICAL SECRETARY

THE GHOST AT GLAMIS 205

Whisky is no doubt a good thing in moderation,
but as is generally known too much of the " barley
bree " is calculated to induce the seeing of spirits
more or less materialistic, according to the quan-
tity or quality of the potations indulged in.

Spirits of the ghostly sort naturally suggest one
of the most famous and remarkable ghosts in
existence — or out of it — whichever you like ;
the famous or at least greatly-written-about
ghost of Glamis Castle, which is said to haunt a
certain secret room.

Whether there is or is not a ghost at Glamis, I
am not in a position to say, nor do I know of my
own knowledge whether Lord Strathmore or his
family attach serious consequence to the mys-
terious visitor, but I do remember hearing a very
well-known Scottish cleric tell of an occasion
when he was staying at Glamis, and one morning
at breakfast the subject of the celebrated secret
room cropped up in conversation. Lord Strath-
more, who certainly did not appear to regard the
matter as one of special consequence, told the
following little story of an eminent church dig-
nitary who had stayed at the Castle some years
previously.

He was, it seemed, a fine example of the clerical
beggar, and was always collecting money for
church building and other good works of the
kind. One night during his stay, he had just put
out the light and got into bed, when suddenly

206 A PELICAN'S TALE

the ghost appeared. It was from its apparel, he
said, undoubtedly a Strathmore of some centuries
back.

With great presence of mind the clergyman
took the first word. Addressing the ghost he
stated that he was most anxious to raise a certain
sum of money for a new church which he proposed
to erect ; that he had a bad cold and could not
well get out of bed ; but that his collecting book
lay on the dressing-table within easy reach of the
ghost, and that he would be extremely obliged if
his visitor would favour him with a contribution.

The ghost said nothing at all in reply, but
clearly betrayed the embarrassment he felt.
Being a gentleman he was obviously most desirous
of complying with the clergyman's request, but
being likewise a ghost, he had no pockets about
him and no money. After a painful pause, realising
that the position was one of extreme delicacy and
difficulty for him, the ghost shamefacedly faded
away, and has never come back any more !

Coincidences are usually remarkable and often
very uncanny, and one of the most curious of
these within my recollection was that with which
poor Frank Richardson, the well-known novelist
and humorous writer, who made a sort of trade-
mark of " Whiskers/' was connected.

Richardson's dislike for whiskers was no doubt
more or less genuine, but it was also not a bad
idea from a business point of view, and gave him

THIRTY-SEVEN 207

an identity, which was naturally valuable to him,
as an author with books to sell.

If you ever mentioned his name, someone
would sure to say, " Oh, you mean that fellow
who is always writing about whiskers," and it
was in connection with whiskers that poor Frank
built most of his literary fame, and a considerable
deal of financial fortune.

Every now and again it used to occur to the
somewhat erratic genius in his chambers at
Albemarle Street, that he had nothing better to
do at the moment than come along to 10 and n
Fetter Lane and look me up. Usually he arrived
at luncheon time, and then we fed together.

On the last occasion that he called at The
Pelican office, he found me sorting some papers,
one of which fell out of the bundle on to the floor.
Richardson picked it up and looked at the list of
the names and dates inscribed upon it. " What
is this ? " he asked. "It is the list of suicides I
have known/' I said ; " if you read the names you
will find you are acquainted with quite a number
of them." "Good Lord," he said, "what a
dreadful idea. Why, there are thirty-six of them.
I wonder who the thirty-seventh will be."

He was the thirty-seventh.

CHAPTER XIV

The bad old days and the present time Stage — The Theatre as a
profession for men and women — Not at all a bad one for the
latter — The connection between the Church and the Stage —
The bygone mystery of the actor's calling — How and why it
has disappeared — Some curious stage slips — " Beetle " Kem-
ble's little mistake in Hamlet — The libel on Sir Charles Wynd-
ham's sobriety — Henry Irving as a singer — A substitute for
Sims Reeves — Actors and actresses who sing — and some who
shouldn't — Miss Marie Lohr's first visit to Sir Herbert Tree —
How Miss Marie Tempest came to forsake musical comedy — A
matter of trousers — An understudy's opportunity — The tiny
turns of Fate which make up history — Miss Jose Collins at
Daly's — The clever daughter of a clever mother — " Ta-ra-ra-
boom-de-ay " and how its singer jumped into fame in two
continents — An incredible success.

i

evil old Puritanical times are happily
gone from us, when everything and
everybody connected with the Stage
was considered bad generally, and the
women thereof everything that was vile in par-
ticular. But still, as we all know, every now and
again there crops up some narrow-minded idiot,
who delights in having his or her fling at the poor
old Drama — which, by the way, is, as a matter of
fact, singularly robust to-day — and saying every-
thing that is disagreeable about Stageland and
the dwellers within its gates.

Whenever the times are dull, the happenings

208

CHORUS LADIES 209

comparatively few, and the papers find it difficult
to fill their columns with interesting matter, we
are treated to long dissertations on the undesir-
ability of the Stage as a profession for girls. " Why
do women continue to crowd the Stage ? " cries
one correspondent, writing to a big daily paper
not long ago, and the answer is quite obvious.

People do things because they are " good
enough," and the Stage as a profession is not only
good enough, but by far the most highly paid
work open to the average young woman com-
pelled to, or desirous of, earning her own living, if
she be possessed of the right qualifications. Of
course specially paid war-time jobs are to be
excepted, and I am writing of normal periods. If
a girl be fairly good-looking and well figured, and
if she possesses a moderately good voice, she can
without any great difficulty obtain an engage-
ment at any of the musical comedy or revue
theatres, at two pounds, or two pounds five shil-
lings a week, and I should like to know in what
other profession a girl can earn over a hundred
pounds a year as a start, without much study,
and with no investment of capital, by doing
about two hours work a night, and a little more
on matinee days ?

If a girl becomes a governess or a Government
clerk — let me repeat I am not of course alluding
to emergency war workers — she must be excep-
tionally clever, and for the latter employment

210 A PELICAN'S TALE

must pass a somewhat severe examination. Also
in neither case will her remuneration be anything
like a hundred a year to start with. If she becomes
a typist, she will in return for the probable ex-
penditure of about twenty pounds on her machine,
the cost of keeping it in order, of learning difficult
shorthand, and equally difficult typing, and for
working from eight to ten hours a day, get any-
thing from fifteen to thirty shillings a week.

I am not writing of things I do not know,
believe me. Shortly before the war, I advertised
for a woman typist, and the number of well-
educated, clever, and ladylike girls who offered
their services, at ridiculous salaries, made one's
heart sore, when one saw how terribly keen the
competition was.

So long as musical comedies and revues are
produced, so long will there be a demand for the
services of attractive young women with decent
voices, and the possessors of these special advan-
tages will naturally enough take an uncommonly
easy way of earning a wage amidst bright and
interesting surroundings, considerably more cheer-
ful than those which they would encounter in
hard and frequently dreary office drudgery.

Added to all this, there are the numerous
opportunities a girl on the Stage has of making a
marriage of such a kind as she could not hope to
do among the friends of her parents. She is seen
by many more eligible young men than she prob-

THE STAGE AS A PROFESSION 211

ably would be at home, and her chances of matri-
mony are consequently greater. One knows of
heaps and heaps of happy and successful marriages
which chorus girls have made, and in writing thus,
I am not thinking of exceptional cases where
thinking-part young ladies have become peeresses.
As for the dangers of Stage life, and all that
foolery, there are no more than exist in any big
shop, or business, where men and women are
employed together, and, in the majority of cases,
probably far fewer.

And as for the Stage as a profession for men, it
is in my humble opinion like Journalism, or Art,
or Music, an excellent one for a man who really
cares for it, and has enough money to live on,
whether he has engagements or not. If he has
the means of existence, what time he is out of
collar, so that it is not of vital consequence to him
whether he gets engagements or not, it will
assuredly happen, in accordance with the curious
natural law which seems to prevail in all busi-
nesses and professions, that he will get the en-
gagements right enough. As in other matters,
so on the Stage — " To him that hath shall be
given."

Of course the great prizes of Stageland fall into
the hands of the very few, but they are of so
exceedingly handsome a nature that they are well
worth striving after if one's abilities and fancies
turn towards the boards as a career. Possibly

212 A PELICAN'S TALE

there are better paid professions than that of
acting. Assuredly there are many worse.

In these days, the Church, or at least that
portion of it which counts, has quite ceased to
regard the Stage as what Mile. Gaby Deslys calls
11 shokeeng," and as a matter of fact, there is
considerable connection, by birth at least, be-
tween the two callings. To name only a few of
the well-known people who are connected with
the Church, I may mention Mr. Matheson Lang,
who is the son of the Rev. Gavin Lang of the
Church of Scotland and a cousin of the Archbishop
of York, also Miss Violet and Miss Irene Vanbrugh,
daughters of the late Rev. Prebendary Barnes of
Exeter. Mr. Lestocq, at one time a well-known
player and latterly more familiar as Mr. Charles
Frohman's representative in this country, is also
a son of the Church ; so too is Mr. St. John
Denton, while Mrs. Langtry or Lady de Bathe, is
a daughter of the late Dean of Jersey.

Mr. Basil Gill is a son of the Rev. John Gill of
Cambridge, and Mr. Charles Hawtrey one of the
sons of the late Rev. John Hawtrey, an Eton
master, while Mr. Eade Montefiore, well known in
connection with theatrical management, is a son of
the Rev. Thomas Montefiore, Rector of Chiddock,
and Rural Dean. There are many other instances
one could readily name, but these will do to show
that the connection between the Church and the
Stage is a reasonably extensive one.

THE ACTOR'S CALLING 213

And still harping upon Stage matters, a well-
known player recently remarked with a good deal
of truth, that the romance of Stage life has become,
in great part, like the presence of snakes in
Ireland ; that in point of fact it does not exist
nowadays.

Stage life in these times differs but little from
most other sorts of life and work. It is practical,
business-like, somewhat hard, decidedly matter-
of-fact, and eminently unromantic.

The old time mystery surrounding the actors'
calling has been dissipated by the very intimate
photographer, the interviewer, the Press-agent,
and the players themselves. The open candour
of the latter in disclosing the secrets of their
profession, of making known the intimate details
of such matters as their make up, of giving the
public particulars of their domestic lives, their
tastes, their habits, their likes and dislikes, have
been responsible for tearing away the veil which,
in earlier days, formed an impenetrable barrier
between the auditorium and the other side of the
footlights.

Formerly, stage life was an irregular, haphazard,
go-as-you-please sort of thing. The stage manager
did not rule with a rod of iron as he does now ;
the details of productions were often careless and
left to chance, and the classic saying, " It will be
all right at night," which for obvious reasons is
heard but rarely nowadays, was of everyday or

214 A PELICAN'S TALE

every night occurrence, when actors, disclaiming
any great amount of careful study for less arduous
pursuits, trusted to luck to pull them through.

When all is mechanically precise, when actors
are letter perfect, when stage hands abjure strong
waters and nothing is left to accident or fortune,
few opportunities occur for those amusing acci-
dents and blunders which used to happen. A
play nowadays may run for a year without any-
thing untoward occurring to mar the even current
of its progress. From a business point of view
this is of course excellent, but the freedom from
mishaps makes the work of the dramatic historian
hard, for he has few good stories to tell, and
hardly any amusing blunders to record.

In the alleged palmy days, actors often played
eight or nine new parts a week, and this circum-
stance alone afforded ample opportunities for
mistakes. And there were also the ignorance,
stupidity, and indolence of the stage manager,
which were fruitful of blunders.

Charles Matthews, the father of Sir Charles
Matthews, Director of Public Prosecutions, has
left it on record that on one occasion, when play-
ing in The Critic, the actor who had rehearsed the
part of Lord Burleigh in the morning was by
reason, it is supposed, of the too great hospitality
of friends, unable to appear at night. " Send on
anybody," said the stage manager, indifferent as
to the consequences of his remarkable command,

MISQUOTATIONS 215

and only anxious that the play should willy-nilly
proceed. The " anybody " was found, dressed
for the part, and the book thrust into his hand.
He read the stage directions — " Enter Lord
Burleigh, bows to Dangle, shakes his head, and
exit."

" Anybody " did enter, bowed to Dangle, and
proceeded to shake Dangle's head, no doubt to
the great delight of the audience, if to the horror
of the player ; and then made his exit.

Even the great Kean was not free from the
commission of blunders, for it is related that,
owing to nervousness or other causes, he once
transposed the lines in Hamlet :

" Who tweaks me by the nose, plucks off my beard

And blows it in my face."
to

" Who tweaks me by the beard, plucks off my nose
And blows it in my face."

Once while playing at the Adelphi, in The
Harbour Lights, Mr. William Terriss, for long the
stock hero at that playhouse, and the father of
Miss Ellaline Terriss, had to speak the " tag "
which ran :

" Straight before us, like two stars of hope
We see the harbour lights,"

but by evil chance, one evening he rendered the

line :

" Straight before us, like two bars of soap,
We see the harbour lights."

216 A PELICAN'S TALE

which remarkable expression of vision consider-
ably dashed Miss Jessie Millward — the heroine —
to whom the line was addressed.

There was the case, too, of Mr. Kemble's cele-
brated lapse in Hamlet, while playing Polonius to
Sir Herbert Tree's Dane, which came about thus.

During a wait Charles Brookfield, always clever
and mischievous, wandered into Kemble's dress-
ing-room, and said, " Don't you think, Beetle,
that in your big speech the line

" Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar "
would be much more impressive, if you gave it
" Be thou familiar, but by no means bawdy."

" Good Lord, Charles," said Kemble, what a
dreadful thing to suggest. " Fancy daring to
alter a word of Shakespeare. And hang it all,
now that you have put it into my head, it is a
thousand to one that I'll go on the stage and say
it." And sure enough poor " Beetle " did do so,
with his fine booming voice, to the immense
amazement of those who heard it. Tree used to
laugh about the mishap afterwards ; but he was
thunderstruck at the time.

Few actors had greater control over themselves
on the Stage than Sir Charles Wyndham, but
even he was considerably " dried up " on at least
one occasion, when he was playing David Garrick
at the Criterion.

IRVING AS A SINGER 217

In this it will be recollected that in order to dis-
gust the love-stricken Ada Ingot, Garrick pretends
to be intoxicated, and old Simon Ingot, the father,
orders him out of the room, saying, " You are
drunk, Mr. Garrick ; leave this house at once."

I fancy, on the occasion I refer to, Mr. Farren
was playing Ada's father. Anyhow, the old
Ingot of the occasion, whoever he was, consider-
ably electrified the hero of the piece as well as the
audience by exclaiming, " You are drunk, Mr.
Wyndham ; leave this house at once ! "

The difficulties which players find themselves
in at times, are by no means all of their own
causing, for there have been occasions when it has
been necessary for some reason or other, for an
actor to jump into a breach created by some
breakdown or other mishap, which he was but
little constituted by nature to fill.

We all remember the great actor, Sir Henry
Irving, of course, and most of us no doubt saw
him in all his most famous parts, but few of his
admirers, I venture to think, ever imagined him
as a singer of sentimental ballads ; yet the thing
duly occurred and in this manner.

Irving was appearing in that remarkable old
play Rob Roy at the Theatre Royal, Edinburgh. It
was of course in his young days, and he was play-
ing the part of Captain Thornton, when Sims
Reeves, who was the tenor-lover, Francis
Osbaldiston, was seized with one of his periodical

2i8 A PELICAN'S TALE

" indispositions " which became so maddeningly
frequent during his later and more celebrated life,
and sent along the usual medical certificate to
show that he was unfitted to appear that night.

The Edinburgh manager, old Mr. Wyndham,
father of Mr. Fred Wyndham of the famous
theatrical firm, Howard and Wyndham, suddenly
swooped down on Irving and said, " Look sharp !
The curtain is just going up, and you must take
Sims Reeves place/' Irving, very much aghast,
replied, " What, with all the songs ? " " Yes, all
of them/' retorted the manager. " And I sang
them, too/' Irving used to say, " yes ; My Love is
like a red, red rose ; Though I leave thee now in
sorrow ; Everything ! "

It is indeed wonderful to think of grand old Sir
Henry as a soloist — wonderful indeed, if you ever
heard him sing. At Edmund Yates' house at
Marlow, I once sat next to him, what time a
number of us joined in a certain chorus, and the
great actor's discords, and strange sounds therein,
were, as I well remember, very dreadful and
terrifying to listen to. Henry Irving had a re-
markable speaking voice, a beautiful smile, was a
very great actor, a fine kindly splendid fellow in
every way, but though I yield to none in the
affectionate regard and admiration I always had
for one of the most lovable men I ever had the
good fortune to know, I cannot bring myself to
describe him as other than the very worst singer I

A TREE STORY 219

ever listened to ; and I have heard some fairly
bad ones in my time.

Talking of singing in connection with acting,
recalls the fact that quite a number of male and
female ornaments of the Stage, who are supposed
to be singers, are certainly no great shakes at the
game, and in fact, though you would find it diffi-
cult to get them to agree with you, act a very
great deal better than they warble. On the other
hand there are many actors and actresses who
usually play " straight " parts in these days, and
who also possess fine voices ; I do not of course
refer to comediennes like Miss Marie Tempest, or
to actors like Mr. Hayden Coffin, who were first
of all favourites with the public on account of
their singing, before they took to appearing in
non-musical pieces, but to players like Miss Marie
Lohr, and Miss Gladys Cooper, to name only a
couple of instances, each of whom is the possessor
of a very pretty voice.

Both these ladies have now achieved great
things on the stage, and are manageresses. Indeed,
it will be remembered that Miss Lohr was, for a
time, leading lady at His Majesty's with Sir
Herbert Tree, and it is curious to recall that some
years before she came to be the principal female
attraction at the theatre, she called on Sir Herbert
in the hope of being engaged for a small part, and
he couldn't or wouldn't see her.

I asked Tree one day, if the story were true,

220 A PELICAN'S TALE

and he said it quite well might have been, for from
twenty to thirty would-be players at the theatre,
called to see him each day, and if he had inter-
viewed every one of them individually he would
have had no time to attend to any other of his
innumerable duties in the conduct of the big place.

How Miss Tempest came to forsake musical
plays for " straight " comedies, was more or less
a matter of trousers — and Chinese trousers at
that.

It was when George Edwardes produced Edward
Morton's musical play, San Toy, at Daly's Theatre,
wherein Miss Tempest had during a portion of the
evening to array herself as a Chinese boy in close
fitting trow-trows, which reached to her ankles.
The lady thought the length of these garments
unbecoming, and converted them into very brief
affairs, such as are usually worn by the pantomime
hero Aladdin, and in these she appeared on the
first night, and very neat she looked, according to
my recollection. But the good George took it
into his head that their brevity spoilt the char-
acter of the dress, and he insisted on the fair
wearer increasing the length of her pants. This
Miss Tempest declined to do, and the final result
of the somewhat heated debate thereon, was that
the lady left Daly's, being succeeded by a clever
girl who, up till then, had never had a real chance,
Miss Florence Collingbourne, who scored so highly
in the part that she played it during the close

MISS TEMPEST RESIGNS 221

upon two years' run of the piece, and looked as if
she were going to achieve even greater things in
subsequent productions. Then, unfortunately for
the Lyric Stage, Miss Collingbourne forsook the
boards for matrimony, and I believe has never
since played professionally in a theatre.

Thus it was that Miss Tempest ceased to adorn
Daly's with her sweet -voiced presence, forsook
musical comedy for all time, and devoted herself
to comedy without music, with such success that
soon afterwards she became an actress-manageress,
and is to-day one of the best known comediennes
either on the English or American Stages, for she
is equally popular and at home in either country.

It is just out of little turns of Fate like this
that history is made, and if Miss Tempest and
Mr. Edwardes had seen eye to eye with regard to
the length of the lady's breeks, perchance she
might still be leading lady at Daly's, albeit she
could not be a more attractive one than Miss Jos£
Collins who now holds the position.

Miss Collins is the now famous daughter of an
old-time famous mother, for the latter lady was
Miss Lottie Collins, a music-hall singer of great
celebrity in her day, whose singularly idiotic song
" Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay " with its very energetic
high kicking dance, set all England, and at least
half of America, wellnigh crazy for a time, and
led her to fame, and no doubt to fortune as well.

CHAPTER XV

How history repeats itself — In the matter of night clubs and
other things — The Old Lotus — Fatty Coleman as secretary —
Evans's — The Corinthian — Dudley Ward and the Gardenia
— The Alsatians — La Goulue in Leicester Square — Her rival
Nini Patte-en-1'air at the Duke of York's — A remarkable
rehearsal — Maurice Farkoa's London debut — A theatre on
fire — How a panic was averted at Birmingham — Arthur
Roberts to the rescue — Oceana the Beautiful — Her beginning
and parentage — Whimsical Walker and the purchase of
Jumbo the elephant — How Barnum made £540,000 out of a
£3000 investment — James Bailey's office hours at Olympia —
About Zazel— John Strange Winter and Bootle's Baby —
What the Bishop of London said — George Augustus Sala and
his " Journal " — " Winter's Weekly " — Clement Scott's
" Free Lance."

IT is curious how every ten or twelve years
history goes on repeating itself in at least
two ways. The recurrence of roller skating,
which lives periodically, with a great boom
while it lasts, and the re-birth of the Night Clubs,
or Supper Clubs, as they prefer to call them-
selves.

Of the more recent of these institutions, such as
Murray's, The Four Hundred, Mr. Payne's Lotus,
and Giro's, it is not necessary to speak ; some of
them ceased to be after very brief careers, some
are still going on. In any case the circumstance
of their being is such comparatively recent

222

THE OLD LOTUS 223

history, that there is no need to do more than
merely allude to them now.

One of the earliest and best known of the sup-
ping and dancing clubs was the old Lotus. I call
it old, to distinguish it from the more modern
place of that name, started by Mr. " Papa "
Payne, which did not last very long.

The old Lotus, which was going very strong
and well in 1881-2, was at the head of Regent
Street, and was financed by various well-known
men-about-Town of that time, although John
Hollingshead, who then owned and managed the
old Gaiety Theatre, was the nominal proprietor,
and Fatty Coleman was Secretary. Later on
John gave up the Club about the time the late
Lord Lonsdale died, and Fatty blossomed forth
as proprietor as well as Secretary.

I was not a member of the Lotus myself, and
was only once in it as a visitor, at the tail end of
its existence, but an old-time member of it tells
me that it was quite the cheeriest and j oiliest
cock and hen club that ever was. The men were
all absolutely of the right sort, all the best and
brightest fellows about Town at that time ; as
for the ladies — whom God bless — they were
almost all theatrical. Many dear little souls who
had no connection with the Stage tried very hard
to enter, but the Lotus was not a Club that any-
one could get into by a very long way, and few
outsiders appeared there more than once.

224 A PELICAN'S TALE

Many of the charming lady visitors and members
are married — several of them took the precaution
to do so into the Peerage — and I daresay that
some of them will smile with kindly recollection
when they read these lines, and think of the good
fellows who kept things lively in the days referred
to, like " Mollycatush " Lonsdale, Joey Ayles-
ford, his brothers Clem and Dan Finch, fine old
Bob Hope-Johnstone, Hughie Drummond, and
the rest. " Molly " was succeeded by his brother
Hugh, the present Earl, and his widow died not
long since as the Marchioness of Ripon.

Then there was Harry Tyrwhitt, with his in-
evitable gardenia, the most intimate friend of
King Edward, at that time, of course, Prince of
Wales ; Billy Gerard, Esme and Douglas " Brigs "
Gordon, Rupert Carrington, John Delacour, Chris.
Sykes, the old Duke of Beaufort, Algy Bastard,
Charlie Cunningham, and ever so many more.

The nearest approach to the old Lotus was
probably The Corinthian at its start. I say at its
start, advisedly, for later on, when the un-
desirables began to make their way in, the place
degenerated sadly, but at the beginning, when
John Hollingshead was proprietor, and Dick
Simpson secretary, the Corinthian which was in
York Street, St. James's Square, was a very
pleasant place indeed, where what poor Newnham
Davis used to call " clean-shirted Bohemia "
used to assemble to sup and dance.

Photo.

Kacon, Pliiladelpln

MR. O. P. HUNTI.EY

THE CULT OF THE BANJO 225

There were other dancing clubs, too, where things
were a deal more free and easy, such as The
Gardenia, next to the Alhambra in . icester
Square, which was originally started by the Bohee
Brothers, a couple of very large, coloured gentle-
men who played the banjo with great skill and
incredible energy, and who first found their way
to this country from America, when Haverley's
Minstrels came over here to Her Majesty's Theatre,
and anon to Drury Lane.

For a time a portion of Society, with a capital
" S " took up the playing of the banjo quite
keenly, and one of the Bohees attempted to teach
King Edward how to perform on the instrument,
with only moderate success.

The Bohees soon sold The Gardenia to Mr.
Dudley Ward, father of the Member for Southamp-
ton, and during his control of the place, The
Gardenia was a very merry, if somewhat rowdy
spot. Mr. Ward induced that remarkable light of
the old Moulin Rouge in Paris, La Goulue, to come
over with some of her company, and show us how
eccentric quadrilles should be danced. They
were eccentric right enough ; though not more so
than those measures performed some years later
at the Duke of York's Theatre, by the Nini
Patte-en-1'air Company.

Things began to tail off at The Gardenia, for
people can't keep on sitting up all night for ever ;
and Mr. Dudley Ward, with infinite wisdom, sold

226 A PELICAN'S TALE

his club as a going concern, to a very pleasant
Australian, Mr. " Shut-eye " Miles, who I fear
made no fortune out of his deal. Ultimately the
place met the fate of many of its fellow institu-
tions and was closed by the police.

Then there was the Percy Supper Club, off
Tottenham Court Road, run by a Mr. Dolaro, who
was understood to have been the husband of the
one-time very popular favourite Selina Dolaro ;
also The Alsatians in Oxford Street, a very big
place, which Mr. Harding Moore, a brother of
Lady Wyndham, controlled, after he had made a
considerable fortune out of his lesser venture,
The Waterloo, at the foot of Waterloo Place.
There were also The Palm, The Nell Gwynne in
Long Acre, The Arlington, The White Beer Club —
a very dreadful place — close to the stage door of
the Alhambra, and earlier and rowdier than any
of them, The Austro-Hungarian in Greek Street,
Soho.

Perhaps the first of the really smart supper
clubs was The New, afterwards rechristened
Evans's, in Covent Garden, where The National
Sporting Club now is. It had a chequered career,
and faded away into nothingness ultimately. But
it was smart enough at its start, when King
Edward, then Prince of Wales, gave it his support,
and Colonel Wellesley was secretary, just before
he married Miss Kate Vaughan of the old Gaiety,
and when most of the Marlborough House set and

THE MOULIN ROUGE 227

those who wanted to be considered of it, used to
sup and dance there o' nights till even later than
" four and five in the morning " as the old song
has it.

A little way back I alluded to the appearance
of La Goulue, the dancer of eccentric quadrilles,
whom no doubt many of those who read these
lines saw in old days at the Moulin Rouge, when
she was at the height of her success ; for every
Britisher who visited Paris went to the Red Mill
at least once, and no doubt such will also recall
Rayon d'Or, Nini Patte-en-1'air, La Fromage,
Eglantine, and the rest of the very active ladies,
the chief quality of whose dances was the singu-
larly free exposure of garments not as a rule
publicly exhibited.

As a matter of fact these good ladies were very
ordinary dancers ; they could high-kick fairly
well, and could do the splits, but they could do
neither the least bit like the numerous troupes of
Tiller girls, who have been so popular in Paris,
London, and in the country for many a day and
night.

It was during the run of Go Bang ! the musical
comedy by Dr. Osmond Carr and Mr. Adrian Ross,
which followed Morocco Bound, that Nini Patte-
en-l'air and her three companions came to the
Duke of York's and appeared therein.

Mr. Herbert Pearson, who was then running
the show, had gone over to Paris, with his stage

228 A PELICAN'S TALE

manager, Mr. Frank Parker, with the avowed
intention of bringing La Goulue back with them.
But the lady had then, I believe, married, and
reasons of a domestic nature prevented any special
measure of activity, and so it was that her rival
Nini Patte-en-rair came instead.

It was on the evening the Patte-en-rair Troupe
made their first appearance at the Duke of York's
that a couple of male duettists, who subsequently
became very famous, were seen and heard in
London for the first time. They sang French
duets, wore black satin knee breeches, pink dress
coats and were called Fisher and Farkoa, the
latter afterwards becoming the very well-known
Mr. Maurice Farkoa, who appeared in so many of
George Edwardes' successes.

I shall ever recall the morning on which the
Nini Patte-en-rair Troupe turned up at the Duke
of York's for rehearsal. The Go Bang ! Company
including Miss Letty Lind, Miss Agnes Hewitt,
Miss Jessie Bond, John L. Shine, Charles Danby,
George Grossmith, Arthur Playfair, Harry Grattan
and Fred Storey, were all in front, or at the side,
to see how the French ladies were going to shape.
There was a difficulty at the start however. The
ladies' practice skirts had not arrived. " Did
that matter ? " asked the dark-eyed Nini, " for
herself and her girls not at all." And they straight-
way began to rehearse in their everyday attire.

I say began, because soon after they had

FIRE 229

started, and when the conductor of the orchestra
had turned as crimson as a turkey cock in a
violent sunset, and when the members thereof
had gradually become so interested in the show
that they left off playing one after the other, till
the hero who controlled the triangle was left
mildly tapping away by himself, Mr. Frank
Parker, who was not, according to my recollection,
too readily shocked, considered it well, greatly to
the indignation of Madame Nini, to stop the re-
hearsal, till such time as adequate dancing attire
should arrive. As Mr. Parker justly observed on
the occasion, " we had seen all that was neces-
sary."

And talking of somewhat sultry shows, have you
ever been in a theatre when the cry of " Fire " has
arisen ? It is not at all a funny experience, and it
has occurred to me on two occasions, once in the
Stadt Theatre in Diisseldorf , and another time at
the Prince of Wales' Theatre, Birmingham. In
each case the same things happened. Something
went wrong, sparks fell on the stage, some idiot
called out " fire/' the audience rushed for the
doors, someone fell down, dozens of others tripped
on the top, and the entrances became crowded up.
In neither affair was the fire of any special con-
sequence, but in the crush many people were in-
jured.

In the case of the Birmingham happening, it
was when Joan of Arc was being played by the

230 A PELICAN'S TALE

London Company, which had previously been ap-
pearing in the piece at the Old Opera Comique in
Town, the said company, by the way, including
Arthur Roberts, Marius, Danby, Agnes Hewitt,
Marion Hood, and Ada Blanche, who had tempor-
arily taken Alma Stanley's part as Talbot, Earl of
Shrewsbury.

In the middle of one of the scenes, down fell a
bit of the sky border, blazing away for all it was
worth. It came down on the stage with a thump,
and sparks flew from it on all sides, some of them
landing on a chorus girl's wig, which promptly
burst into flames. Screams from the chorus
ladies ; cries of " Fire " from the audience ;
everyone on his or her feet, making for the doors ;
curtain rapidly lowered ; and as Mr. R. G.
Knowles used to sing " There is a picture for you ! "

I was seated in the front row of the stalls, well
away from the nearest exit, which promptly be-
came jammed, owing to a woman tripping over
her dress, and dozens of others piling on top, and
I did not like the look of things at all, till one of
the company, whom I knew, put his head round
the corner of the proscenium, and called out to
me, " It's all right, don't move." So I sat tight.

Then Arthur Roberts, Miss Agnes Hewitt, and
some of the others came in front of the curtain,
the band struck up a tune, and the actors per-
formed a sort of spoof quadrille. The audience
stopped to watch them, and then realising that

THE BEAUTIFUL OCEANA 231

there couldn't be much the matter, came back to
their seats, and after a brief delay things pro-
ceeded. No great harm was done beyond some
legs and arms being broken in the crush, but for a
few minutes it did look as if there was going to be
real trouble, and by the readiness of Mr. Roberts
and his companions, a very tragic happening was
beyond doubt averted.

Among the many specially beautiful Stage
ladies who were to be seen about this time, was
one who achieved quite a considerable measure of
celebrity in Paris, as well as in London, who called
herself Oceana, and who used to disport herself
upon the slack wire with lots of skill and grace.
There was a deal of contradictory talk as to her
identity, and one heard all sorts of fantastic
tales as to her birth and parentage. But there
was really nothing mysterious about the matter,
which may as well be set forth here once and
for all.

Some years ago, an old circus performer, named
Ethardo, died, who though unfamiliar to most of
us, was well known in the sixties as a contem-
porary of Leotard, the flying trapeze performer,
and Blondin, the famous tight-rope walker.
Ethardo was chiefly famous as what is termed a
spiral ascensionist, and he was, among other
things, the stepfather and teacher of Oceana.

As a child, " Dolly/' as she was known to her
friends, was a clever performer on the slack wire,

232 A PELICAN'S TALE

and as a juggler, and later on when she grew up,
and became uncommonly good to look at, her
fame all over the Continent, and over here, was
considerable. As her beauty increased her stage
talent seemed to diminish, but her charms of
face and figure made up for any failing thereof.
She was greatly admired by many good judges of
beauty, and the late Shah of Persia was under-
stood to think very highly indeed of her looks
and abilities, whilst several of the exceedingly
handsome jewels which she used to wear during
her show, were tokens of his appreciation of both.

And talking of the circus and its performers,
recalls one of the very best of the old circus
clowns — and he is not so old either — Whimsical
Walker, who has been for so many Christmasses
at Drury Lane in pantomime, that he is justly
looked upon as the legitimate successor to the
famous Harry Payne.

Walker has played all over the world, and has
been attached to pretty well every circus of stand-
ing in this country, and the Continent. It was
while he was with Barnum in America, that the
great showman sent him to London, to purchase
Jumbo, the famous elephant from the Zoological
Society ; and the newspaper booming which
occurred in connection with the sale of the great
animal was remarkable. For several weeks the
papers were full of articles protesting against
allowing Jumbo to leave Regent's Park. Hundreds

THE JUMBO BOOM 233

of letters were written by children, and others
pointing out that life would be no longer worth
living if Jumbo left us ; and so on and so forth.
Indeed there was talk of a national subscription
to purchase the animal from the Zoo people, and
keep him here.

But in the end when the boom had been worked
for all it was worth — and that was a lot — Walker
completed the purchase of Jumbo for £3000, and
duly took the elephant to New York, where his
entire cost and something over was got back on
the first day he was shown ; and Mr. James Bailey,
who afterwards became Barnum's partner, told
me that from first to last, Jumbo earned for the
firm, just about £540,000, so that he proved a
very fair investment.

Bailey was a remarkable man, as many will
recollect, who met him when " The Greatest Show
on Earth " was over here at Olympia. In many
ways he was as unlike the typical showman as it
is possible to imagine, and more closely ap-
proached one's idea of a dissenting Minister. He
was an extraordinarily energetic man, even when
he was in London and no longer young, and while
he always made a point of being in bed by ten
o'clock, he was at work in his office long before
most business men think of getting up.

On an occasion I wanted to discuss a matter of
business with him, and asked him to give me an
appointment for the purpose of so doing. I knew

234 A PELICAN'S TALE

how busy a man he was, and so I said, " Name
your own time, and I'll be there." " How would
six o'clock to-morrow suit you/' he asked. " Well,"
I said, " six is rather an awkward time ; you see
I shall be leaving my office then, after my day's
work, and will be tired." " Oh," he replied, " I
mean six in the morning." I pointed out to him,
however, that this would hardly do, as I couldn't
sit up as late as that, and so we arranged matters
by agreeing to lunch together instead.

George Starr, who was Bailey's right-hand man,
when he was over here, subsequently became
manager of the Crystal Palace, and comparatively
few people are aware that the quiet middle-aged
lady, his wife, who used to be about with him a
good deal, was the once famous Zazel, who used
to be fired from a cannon at the Old Aquarium,
Westminster, by Farini.

The performance was burlesqued at the Old
Gaiety by Edward Terry and Nellie Farren, and
when the latter got into the dummy cannon, one
recalls the curious jerky voice of Terry saying,
" Are you in ; are you far in ; are you Nellie
Far-in ? "

Mrs. Arthur Stannard, who was known to a
considerable portion of the world by her pen
name of John Strange Winter, author of Bootle's
Baby and many other novels, chiefly of a military
sort, told me that the first time she saw Zazel
placed in her cannon to be fired from it, what

THE BISHOP'S ALARM 235

time the band stopped playing, and Farini de-
manded " absolute silence " from the audience,
she was so overcome that she gave a loud scream,
which very nearly upset the calculations of " the
human cannon ball " and led to disaster.

Bootless Baby was dramatised when it was at
the height of its success as a novel, and Miss Minnie
Terry, a niece of the great Ellen, made her first
appearance in the play, as Mignon, the " Baby "
of the story. Miss Edith Woodworth, who subse-
quently became Mrs. Charles Kettlewell, produced
the piece at the Old Globe Theatre, and in the cast
were, among others, Mr. Edmund Maurice, and
the three Charles, Collette, Sugden, and Garthorne,
the last named a brother of Mr. Kendal. Miss
Minnie Terry is now the wife of Mr. Edmund
Gwenn, the very versatile actor.

A story used to be told wherein it was narrated
that Mrs. Stannard upon an occasion, seeking to
introduce herself to the late Bishop of London,
said, " My lord, I am John Strange Winter/' and
seeing the good prelate gaze upon her, with a
puzzled expression, she added, " You know —
Bootless Baby." Then the Bishop fled.

Anon, meeting his hostess, the Bishop took her

on one side and said, " Do you know, Lady

that you are entertaining a lunatic. She came up
to me a little time ago, and first of all stated
that she was a man — and then that she was a
child ! "

236 A PELICAN'S TALE

I remember asking Mrs. Stannard, who was the
most amiable and kindly of women, as to the
veracity of the legend. " It was a good enough
story/' she said, " good enough to have been true ;
but as a matter of fact, it wasn't/1

Just as George Augustus Sala, on leaving The
Daily Telegraph, started a paper of his own, and
called it Sala's Journal, Mrs. Stannard thought
that she, too, would like to possess a paper, and
so she started Winter's Weekly, which lived for
some time, and then faded away.

Clement Scott, the famous dramatic critic of
The Telegraph, " tired of being edited to death/'
as he said, thought that he too would like to have
a paper of his own, and launched the Freelance,
which did not last very long. Scott knew all about
the literary side of running a weekly, but the
business portion with the innumerable cares and
worries, even in the case of a small paper, were
too much for him. After his death, his widow
carried the Freelance on for a time, but it gradually
failed, and ultimately was not.

CHAPTER XVI

The Duke of Fife as a bicyclist — A friend in need — A good Scotch
name — The ill-fated voyage of the P. and O. Delhi — Wrecked
off Cape Spartavento — King Edward and the champagne —
How the term " Boy " originated — The Bishop and the Peer
— How the Duke scored — Turning the tables with a vengeance
— Mr. G. P. Huntley's experience in Petrograd — An audience
which didn't know its own mind — The hangman's letter and
his hope — What an execution is really like — Not so thrilling
as it is usually painted — Sir Augustus Harris and his idea of
luck — The Baddeley cake and its cutting, at Drury Lane —
A remarkable function of former days — " Hawnsers fer
Korrispondinks " — The beginning of Lord Northcliffe's fame
and fortune — Mr. Charles Cochran and the circus — The last
Covent Garden circus — George Batty and King Edward —
Present-day theatrical salaries — Their remarkable size — What
George Edwardes said about An Artist's Model — Where will
theatrical expenses end ?

IT is curious how Fate sometimes brings you
in contact with distinguished people, and
here is just one instance of the sort of thing
I mean. One day while walking on the
road from Rottingdean to Brighton, I came upon
a singularly inexpert cyclist who, as we neared
each other, came off his machine and hit the road
with considerable vigour. I helped him to his
feet, and hoped he wasn't much hurt, and he, a
most cheery soul with reddish grey hair and
moustache said, " Devil a bit, I'm all right, but
I'm afraid my bike isn't. Do you understand

237

238 A PELICAN'S TALE

these things at all ? " I told him that I had been
a bicyclist since the days of the wooden bone-
shaker, and was soon able to put right the little
that was wrong with his wheel. After that I
gave him some lessons in the polite art of mount-
ing and getting off, in other fashion than head-
first, which appeared to be his favourite method.

We chatted about various matters and found
we had some mutual friends including his medical
adviser, Sir Maurice Abbot-Anderson, who had
not at that time been knighted, and who is, by
the way, the elder brother of Mr. Allan Aynes-
worth, the well-known actor.

When we parted my cycling pupil thanked me
very warmly for the little I had done for him, and
said, " Who am I indebted to for all this kind-
ness ? " and I replied that my name was Boyd.
" Ah/' he said, " a good Scotch name, like my
own which is Duff/' And I answered that I was
well aware of the fact, and that he took his title
from the East coast county I hailed from, for he
was the late Duke of Fife. He was good enough
to hope that we might meet again some time, but
we never did.

Later on an old friend called at my office in
Fetter Lane, just off Fleet Street, to say good-bye.
He was on his way back to China, to resume his
duties as manager of a great bank, and he told me
he was to sail in a couple of days' time in the
P. and O. Delhi. I envied him his voyage, being

THE ORIGIN OF "THE BOY ' 239

very keen about the sea, and the ships which sail
on it, but he thought the journey would be a
tedious one, for the passengers, a list of whom he
had seen, did not appear to be a very interesting
lot, although he added that the Duke and Duchess
of Fife were among them. " It will be a very un-
eventful trip, I fear/' he said.

Well, as everyone knows, that last voyage of
the Delhi was anything you like but that, for she
found bad weather immediately on leaving the
Thames, and took it with her all the way to Cape
Spartavento, off which she was wrecked ; and it
was owing to the exposure he went through on
that occasion, that the poor Duke, already a very
ill man, met his death.

Some weeks afterwards I passed quite close to
the Delhi as she lay on the beach not far from
Tangier with her back broken. I was in the old
R.M.S. Atrato, which under its rechristened name
was sunk early in the big war by the Huns, a like
fate befalling the Aguilla, which was the last ship
I had previously been on board.

Here, too, is another little matter connected
with the Duke's great friend, and father-in-law,
King Edward, which may be new to some. Al-
though champagne is comparatively seldom
drunk by many, excepting on occasions of very
special hilarity, it is drunk at times, and one still
hears it alluded to as " the Boy " in obvious
ignorance as to the origin of the style and title.

240 A PELICAN'S TALE

This is how champagne came to be called
" Boy/' At a certain shooting party whereat was
good King Edward, the day was warm, and a lad
followed the guns, wheeling a barrow-load of
champagne packed in ice. Thus, when any of
the sportsmen felt like a drink — and they often
did, for the day was muggy — they called " Boy ! '
to the following lad, and the frequency with
which this occurred, led to the adoption of the
term.

Those who had been shooting with the Prince
of Wales, as King Edward then was, used the ex-
pression and told their friends how the designation
had come into being, and those who had not been
of the Royal party, but wished they had, used
the term also. Thus it found its way into the
papers and soon everybody was doing it. Where-
fore you will observe the futility of the " the " as
a prefix to plain " Boy/' The matter is of course
a small one, but for goodness sake let us be accu-
rate even if the heavens fall !

Bishops as a rule are very wise men. If they
were otherwise they would in all human prob-
ability not have become Bishops. And yet one
has known an occasion wherein a Prince of the
Church came off second best in an encounter with
a Peer who is not supposed to be possessed of any
remarkable mental qualities.

The Bishop visited the Peer — at the time a
good deal more youthful in many ways than he is

rx
Ui

DAN I.ENO, THE KING'S JESTER

London Stereoscopic

THE BISHOP DISCOMFITED 241

now — with a view to reproving him gently, anent
sundry matters which had been fairly public
property for some little time previously. The
Prelate, who is among other things a quite up-to-
date man, called on the Peer, and speaking, as he
said, " as one man of the world talking to another/'
suggested among other things, that if his present
amorous pursuit must be followed, he at least
should arrange matters more quietly.

The Peer, who was — and is1 — not altogether a
fool, saw his chance and took it promptly. Hold-
ing up his hands in horror he exclaimed, " Good
heavens ! Have I heard you aright ? Do you, a
Bishop, tell me to do as I am doing* in secret ?
If you had told me that I was ' warring terribly
against the soul/ as my relatives say, I should
have respected you. If you/' he continued,
" had said I was going to the devil, I should have
bowed my head. As it is I am disgusted with
your low moral tone, and must ask you to leave
rny house ! " And the Bishop, who is not as a
rule at a loss for words, went out greatly surprised
and discomfited. Many people who heard the
story at the time it occurred smiled quite loudly,
including quite a number of the Bishop's brethren.

The affairs of Russia have been much mixed up
with our own of recent times and the differences of
opinion upon endless matters in the one-time
kingdom of the Tsar are so far-reaching and re-
markable, that many of us have become impressed
Q

242 A PELICAN'S TALE

with the belief that Russians, like so many of the
Irish, don't exactly know what they do want. In
this connection one recalls a little story of my
good friend the eminent comedian, Mr. G. P.
Huntley, who once visited Russia professionally.
Upon one occasion he was appearing in Petrograd,
and it was made plain to him that somehow or
other he was not pleasing his audiences so much
as he would have liked to have done. In short,
they didn't seem to think a great deal of him.

One of the electrical engineers at the theatre of
the Russian capital, by way of cheering him up as
much as possible in these depressing circumstances,
made matters quite clear thus : " You see," he
said, " these Russian people here are an ignorant
lot of devils. They don't know what they do
want. And," he added, " even if you had been
good they wouldn't have liked you ! "

Gruesome relics usually find ready purchasers
and fetch considerable prices, but evidently the
market for the autographs of hangmen is a limited
one. The signatures of Calcraft, Berry, and
Billington " neatly framed in carved ebony
frames " offered for sale some little time back,
only fetched seventeen shillings, a paltry sum
truly when one reflects that the autographs of
mere poets have secured infinitely higher figures.

In my younger days I was, among other things,
a conscientious collector of autographs, and with
a view to adding to my collection. I wrote to Mar-

THE HANGMAN'S JOKE 243

wood, who was at that time public hangman in
succession to Calcraft. He replied with the
following letter : —

" I send my name with pleasure. Praise God
he is good to all. I hope I may meet you one day,
not professionally.

Your obedient servant,

WILLIAM MARWOOD.

Crown Officer."

Talking of executioners naturally suggests their
grim calling, and the only execution house I have
seen is that at Maidstone Prison, and it is a regular
stone building, and not a shed as such places
usually are, and stands by itself in the pretty
garden-like grounds of the prison, some little way
from the building wherein are situated the two
condemned cells, so that a murderer going to his
end, has a walk in the open air of about forty
yards. The building itself resembles a fairly
large coach-house. At the side the prisoner
enters, there are large double doors and the scaffold
is on a level with the road, so that there are no
stairs for the condemned man to go up. He just
steps in through the door, and he is on the plat-
form before he knows it.

On the opposite side to which the prisoner has
entered, is a similar large pair of doors. Like all
the doors of the building they are kept carefully
locked, and when an execution is taking place,

244 A PELICAN'S TALE

these are only opened as to their upper halves,
and about twenty yards beyond, the Press repre-
sentatives, who are seeing the job carried out,
stand. From their position they don't see a
great deal.

The procession from the condemned cell to the
gallows moves quickly, for the chief actor is
usually in a decided hurry to get his portion of
the business over. The chaplain leads the way
repeating the Burial Service, and the condemned
man comes close behind, then follow the execu-
tioner and his assistant, the senior warder, one or
two other officers, and finally the Governor.

The murderer walks on to the platform, puts his
feet as directed on some white chalk marks made
for his guidance by the executioner, the cap is
pulled over his eyes, a lever at the side like that
in a railway signal-box is pulled, and all is over.
The newspaper men have only seen the upper
half of the man's body as he stands in position,
and a second later there is nothing visible but a
swinging and jerking rope.

The condemned man, when the lever is pulled,
falls down into a whitewashed brick chamber, to
which access is gained by a small flight of stairs.
The whole business is over very quickly, and apart
from the jumpiness of the entire idea, there is
really very little to see in a present-day execution,
performed as it is at Maidstone, and no doubt
elsewhere. Still it is not a pleasant spectacle and,

GUS 245

as it usually occurs at eight in the morning, does
not tend to make one regard one's breakfast with
as friendly an eye as customary.

After receiving my letter from Marwood with
his delicately suggested hope that we might not
meet professionally, I was haunted by the belief
that by some chance or other, by some unforeseen
turn of Fate, we might come to meet in the manner
indicated. It was therefore with a certain relief
that in due course I read in the papers that he was
no more.

The late Sir Augustus Harris of Drury Lane
who was an exceedingly superstitious man, for
some reason or other regarded the hangman's
letter as an emblem of good luck, and as I did not
attach any special consequence to it in that way,
I duly presented it to him, to his great satisfaction.
I don't know whether it had anything to do with
his Drury Lane successes or not. Perhaps it had ;
you never can tell.

Among the many things Augustus Harris did
during his tenure of the Lane, was the elaborating
of the ceremony of cutting the Baddeley cake on
Twelfth Night on the stage, after the performance
of the pantomime had finished. Poor " Gus,J) who
always did things of the kind, very handsomely,
used to invite all the interesting people in London
on these occasions. The guests were wont to
assemble in the auditorium of the big theatre,
and at the correct time the curtain went up dis-

246 A PELICAN'S TALE

closing one of the big scenes of the pantomime,
the foreground filled with long supper tables. On
a place of honour the cake reposed, and then
" Gus " used to step down to the footlights and
bid us welcome. Usually he called upon Mr.
James Fernandez to cut the cake, and then he
summoned us on to the stage, and up we came by
means of steps, set at either corner thereof.

Then we supped and danced to the music of
one of the Guards' bands, and had a good time
till it was getting on for the period at which next
morning's show was due to start. I always won-
dered how the pantomime company got through
that performance. They were certainly giants in
those days !

Latterly Harris found that his list of guests was
increasing to so inordinate an extent, that he
dropped the function altogether, and Mr. Arthur
Collins who succeeded him in the control of " The
National Theatre/' as "Gus" loved to call Drury
Lane, wisely contents himself with just carrying
out the requirements of the Baddeley Bequest.

If there is one thing more remarkable than
another it is out of what a small beginning a great
fortune may arise. Some thirty years ago I was
one afternoon walking down Ludgate Hill, when
a peculiarly cut-throat looking ruffian, pushing
an odd looking little paper before my eyes, what
time he made a clumsy and unsuccessful dive for
my watch, said in hoarse tones, " 'Ere y'are

LORD NORTHCLIFFE'S SUCCESS 247

gov'nor, fust number er the noo piper ' Hawnsers
fer Korrispondinks.' J

I did not particularly desire the addition to the
week's literature, but I bought the paper, and
being further enlightened by my friend that he
was " storving," likewise that he had only come
out of " jug " the previous day, I took him to an
adjacent hostelry, and there filled him as full as
he could hold, of bread and cheese and beer, what
time he gave me the material out of which I
subsequently built a highly successful " Prison
Experiences " article, which later on adorned the
pages of a paper of great circulation, and resulted
in the receipt of three guineas by your servant.

" Hawnsers fer Korrispondinks " was the first
number of Answers, then called Answers to Corre-
spondents, and certainly no paper could have
looked less like proving a success than Answers
did in its earliest stages. Yet out of that unlikely
beginning has grown the biggest newspaper and
publishing business the world has ever seen.

The editor and chief proprietor of Answers
was my very good friend, Lord Northcliffe, then
Mr. Alfred Harmsworth, and there is no need to
tell here of the wonders he and those with him
have created in newspaper-land and elsewhere.
How many journals in London and the country
the Associated Newspapers' Limited, and the other
Harmsworth Companies own and control, in addi-
tion to The Times, The Daily Mail, and The

248 A PELICAN'S TALE

Evening News, I do not profess to know, but it is
interesting to reflect that they all grew out of
" Hawnsers fer Korrispondinks," while of course
the great fortune owned by the Harmsworth
family, as well as the peerages of the two elder
brothers, Alfred and Harold, so deservedly be-
stowed upon them, owe a good deal one way and
another to that curious and unlikely beginning.
Lord Rothermere I only once met *at luncheon in
his brother's house, but Lord Northcliffe I have had
the good fortune to know well for many years,
and I can vouch for the fact that with enough to
turn the heads of a dozen or a hundred ordinary
people, no man was ever less spoilt by stupendous
success than the one-time Alfred Harmsworth,
who remains to-day, to his earlier friends, the same
kindly natured, big-hearted fellow he always was,
and no doubt always will be.

One day Mr. Charles Cochran, the famous
theatrical manager, says that he will accomplish
his pet design and give London a circus, with all
the ancient glories thereof revived, and a number
of new ones added.

The last circus we had in London was that
which Mr. Cochran gave us at Olympia, some years
back, when Mr. Charles Sugden, the well-known
actor, became for the time, the nattiest of ring-
masters possible. With the exception of the
Hippodrome at its start, when it possessed an
arena, Wolff's Circus at Hengler's, now the Palla-

KING EDWARD AT THE CIRCUS 249

dium, and the Barnum and Bailey Show at
Olympia, we have not had a big old-time circus
in Central London since the Covent Garden ven-
ture, which was run by a syndicate, under the
management of Bill Holland, of the wonderful
moustache.

It was at the Covent Garden Circus, that Cinque-
valli, the remarkable juggler, first caught the atten-
tion of London, and among the other notable
people in the company whom " the Peoples'
Caterer " collected, were George Batty, the jockey-
act rider, Hernandez, and the beautiful Oceana.

Batty 's appearance in his jockey-act was always
very popular, and one night when King Edward
visited the circus, Batty sought to pay him a
delicate compliment by appearing in the Royal
racing colours. A costumier and his assistants
were instantly set to work to make a jacket and
cap of the Royal colours with all possible speed,
and Batty's performance was put back in the
programme so as to give the tailors all the time
possible. Then a tragic thing happened. Just as
the garments were completed and Batty was ready
to enter the arena, the Prince, as he then was, re-
membering that he had to go on somewhere or
other, left the box with the members of his suite.

I always think it was a great pity someone
could not have explained the circumstances to the
Royal visitor. He was usually so considerate and
good-natured that I am sure he would have con-

250 A PELICAN'S TALE

tinued his stay for a few minutes, if he had only
known how much trouble poor Batty had taken
to please him.

A circus is usually a fairly costly thing to run,
in London at least, for of course the performers
have to be people at the head of their profession,
and the salaries they command for their frequently
very dangerous performances are large. Circus
performers are not tied to any country by reason
of language. The whole world is open to them,
and if you talk to any circus artist of experience,
you will invariably find that he or she has travelled
to the most unlikely places. But even if circus
expenses are very large, they cannot well be more
so than the running of the big and gorgeous
revues at several of our largest and best known
theatres, for in many cases the salaries paid are
prodigious — and ridiculous. Not so long ago a
revue which was then playing to £1500 a week
was taken off because it did not pay to keep it
on ! Ridiculous you will say, no doubt ; and so
it is, but it is the truth. What do you say to the
salaries of the leading man and leading lady
including their matinee performances, coming to
just £1000 a week together. That's another fact.

How much can there be left for the salaries of
all the other principals of a large company, for
the big chorus, the orchestra, stage hands, staff
in front of the house, lighting, advertising, rent,
and the thousand and one other charges ?

ENORMOUS SALARIES 251

I well recall how George Edwardes told me
during the run of An Artist's Model at Daly's,
that though his production looked to be doing
well, he was actually losing money. " How can
it be otherwise/' he said. " I've got to make
£1400 each week before I can touch a penny for
myself."

In those days expenses of £1400 a week were,
as you see, considered enormous, and wellnigh
suicidal, by so skilled and experienced a manager
as George Edwardes, but as anyone with any sort
of knowledge of the matter is well aware, such
figures would not be considered at all out of the
way at the present time.

Salaries are enormous and preposterous, and
equally of course there is bound to be a big slump
in them when the revue craze dies the death, and
the keen competition for the services of certain
comedians comes to an end. On the other hand
of course the labourer is worthy of his hire, and if
an actor can command the salary of an Arch-
bishop and a Lord Chief Justice rolled into one,
it would be folly of him to refuse to accept it, and
no doubt managers who pay these salaries don't
do so for any other reason than that they con-
sider it worth their while. If they did not you
may be quite sure they wouldn't pay them, for
theatrical managers, such of them as I know at
any rate, are not as a rule fond of giving them-
selves or anything else away to any great extent.

CHAPTER XVII

Journalists of the past and the present — Edmund Yates of The
World — How I first met him — " A good low-comedy face " —
More than that needed for an actor — A great friend and a
disciple of Dickens — Why I did not go on the Stage — Mr.
Labouchere and Truth — How I was able to help " Labby " —
The syndicate which wanted to purchase Truth — How King
Edward and " Labby " agreed to differ for a time — Cherchez
la femme ! — How George Lewis set things right again —
Briefing a future Lord Chief Justice — " A young fellow named
Isaacs " — How the " young fellow " won his case — Another
co-religionist of a very different type — Ernest Benzon, the
Jubilee Plunger — The man who got through a great fortune
in record time — Owners' tips — Fred Archer's triple tip —
Matthew Dawson's superstition — The laying of the founda-
tion-stone of Daly's Theatre — How Bill Yardley suffered on
the occasion — How Harry Grattan and I wrote a musical
comedy — Our stringent terms — An early revue which might
have been produced at the Alhambra and wasn't.

IN these days, when so many newspaper
articles are signed, and when one reads
so much about writers, the reading public
knows a good deal more than it used to
about the personalities of those who help to form
its opinions. In earlier days there was rather
more anonymity than now prevails, but among
the very well-known editors, whom everyone
knew more or less about, were Edmund Yates
of The World and Henry Labouchere of Truth.
I shall ever have a kindly feeling for the former

252

I SECURE A BISHOP 253

journal, for it was in it that the first article I ever
had accepted by a London paper, appeared.
I was a youngster, who had not long arrived in
London, and the series of " Celebrities at Home "
which appeared each week in The World was its
leading feature ; and thus it was flying at high
game for a beginner to turn his 'prentice hand
to one of them.

I knew one celebrity very well, Dr. Thorold, at
that time Bishop of Rochester, who afterwards
succeeded to the See of Winchester, and I ventured
to write to Mr. Yates, an old friend of my father,
though a stranger to me, and suggest the
Bishop as a likely subject for his famous series.
He replied briefly that I could " have a try if I
liked/' So I had my try, scored a goal, and in
due course got, to my considerable surprise, five
guineas for my article. I received a good deal less
than that, let me say, for many subsequent
articles in other journals.

It is just conceivable that the fact of Bishop
Thorold being the brother-in-law of Mr.
Labouchere of Truth, had something to do with
my article being accepted, for the good " Atlas "
did not as a rule attach great consequence to
clerical subjects. Edmund Yates had many
friends — and many enemies, and as (< Dagonet "
once truthfully wrote of him " he was one of the
most loyal likers and the best haters/'

Later on I came to know the World's first and

254 A PELICAN'S TALE

greatest chief very well indeed ; and certainly
never had young man kinder friend than he was
to me. My first meeting with him was curious.
I was at the time, and, no doubt, am so still, one
of the worst possible amateur actors in the world,
but was then greatly smitten with the idea of
adopting the Stage as a profession. I knew that
Mr. Yates was a power in the theatrical world,
and so I induced one who knew him well, to write
to him on my behalf, and ascertain if he could
and would help my ambitions.

Mr. Yates wrote to me very kindly, in the
pleasant violet ink which he, like most of the
other of " Dickens* young men/' always used,
telling me to come and see him on the following
Sunday at Thames Lawn, Great Marlow, where
he was then living ; and I went.

I was, in those days, a very shy youth, and my
terror was abject when on reaching the house
I found I had to walk through a garden in which
were seated a number of famous people who, from
their photographs, I had no difficulty in recog-
nising, as Miss Ellen Terry, Henry Irving, Toole,
Frank Burnand, then editor of Punch, Sir Squire
Bancroft, and sundry others. However, taking
my courage in both hands, I pushed the garden
gate open, and walked towards the house, the
observed — or so I imagined — of all Mr. Yates's
guests.

I particularly noticed among those who were

A LOW-COMEDY FACE 255

sitting on the lawn, a very big, handsome, pleasant
faced man, who was in the middle of telling what
seemed to be an amusing story, to several people
who were near him, and as at the moment Miss
Terry dealt him a playful blow on the arm, calling
out as she did so, " Nonsense, Edmund, nonsense,"
I gathered that here was my host.

The big man suddenly became aware of my
awkward presence, and came over to me saying,

" You are ? ' and I replied that I was my

humble self. Then came the kindliest of welcomes.

" And so," said Mr. Yates, " you want to go on
the Stage ? " Then, turning me round, he placed
both his hands on my shoulders, gazed at me
intently and spoke the words which I shall never
forget — " You know you are not a bit like your
father — but you've a damned good low-comedy
face ! "

After that the ice was quite broken and I was
as happy as possible, for all the eminent people
to whom I was presented were most kind, and the
day was, for me, a very memorable one.

Mr. Yates was always a good friend, and a
wise adviser to me. As everyone knows, he was
a keen disciple of Charles Dickens, whom he justly
regarded as a sort of god, and the fact that I knew
most of the great novelist's works very intimately,
and was able to stand a fairly stiff cross-examina-
tion about them, did me no harm with him.

Mr. Yates would no doubt have helped me on to

256 A PELICAN'S TALE

the boards, for his influence was great, but just
about then there came the unfortunate paragraph
in The World which led to the famous criminal
libel action, and to his incarceration in Holloway
Prison as a first-class misdemeanant for four
months. How the paragraph in question came to
be written by a contributor ; how in the hurry
of business it found its way into The World after
Mr. Yates having read it in proof, had decided
on its excision ; and much else is old history. As
a matter of fact, Mr. Yates only remained in
Holloway for seven weeks, for his health broke
down, and his release was ordered.

Sometime later, a great banquet was given at
the Criterion, to welcome Mr. Yates on his return
to freedom, and to congratulate him on his
restoration to health. Lord Brabourne presided,
and the two hundred guests included a number
of the most influential men in England.

All this put a finish to my half-hearted ideas
of the Stage as a career, which was unquestion-
ably a very good thing for me, for though I have,
in my considerable experience as a dramatic
critic, seen a number of bad actors, I make bold
to say, that I never beheld one who by any
stretch of imagination could have been as wicked
a performer as I am thoroughly convinced I should
have been.

Mr. Labouchere I had not the good fortune
to know at all intimately. Indeed only on one

LABBY 257

or two occasions had I even a moderately lengthy
talk with the chief of Truth, and the first of those
was, to me at least, an interesting one. This is
how it came about.

Mr. Horace Voules, who was for so long manager
of Truth, and who was, in a variety of ways, Mr.
Labouchere's very intimate right-hand man, one
day wrote to me, that " Labby " would like to see
me on a matter if I would call upon him at a
certain time which he named, and so I went.

I found Mr. Labouchere exceedingly pleasant,
and not at all the sort of man I had been led to
expect. He came to cues very quickly, and
started promptly by saying " So-and-so is a
damned scoundrel and I am going to tell him he
is. I believe you can set me right on one or two
small matters about him, and I'll be glad if you
will do so/' As I agreed with Mr. Labouchere in
his estimate of the hero in question, I gave him
the information he wanted with ready satisfaction.

" But knowing all this," said " Labby," " why
didn't you use it yourself — it's useful stuff."
" Because," I said, " although it is all true enough,
he is a wealthy man ; my paper is still young and
making its way, and I can't afford a big libel
action, which would certainly be started if I
wrote anything of the kind. Even if I won the
action, you know a good deal better than I do
what it would cost me. That's my reason."
" And a devilish good reason, too," said the sage

258 A PELICAN'S TALE

of Carteret Street. " Well, I'll tackle him ; and
if he goes for me, he'll have George Lewis and
Charles Russell against him as well."

Later on the person in question was " tackled "
to a very considerable extent by Mr. Labouchere,
and an action for libel followed, wherein his legal
luminaries were as he said they would be, Mr.
George Lewis and Sir Charles Russell as they then
were, and the result was that as usual, in most
actions of the kind brought against him, Mr.
Labouchere won hands down, for he, and Lewis,
and Russell, were an uncommonly tough trio
for anyone to run up against.

I mind me well at the time of our meeting, as
I was leaving, Mr. Labouchere said in his curious

drawling way, " Oh, by the way, you know

well, don't you ? '' mentioning a certain distin-
guished Churchman, who was a relative of his own,
and I told him that the Prelate in question was
a great friend of my father, and that he had been
very kind to me.

" He is a curious creature," was the comment ;
then he added, with one of his whimsical smiles,
" I wonder what he thinks of me," and, casting
prudence to the winds, I absolutely could not
help saying what I knew to be the case, and
quoting the title of a very popular song with
which the " Great Macdermott " was at the time
delighting audiences at the old Pavilion, " Not
much ! " I fancy I expected him to be angry

THE CHARM OF "TRUTH ' 259

with me, but he wasn't at all. He merely laughed,
and seemed quite to approve of my rather cheeky
retort.

On another occasion, I met him when I was com-
missioned to see, if it were possible, to purchase
Truth on behalf of a small syndicate, possessed of
considerable wealth and influence ; but at that
time " Labby " was not inclined to sell, except
at such a figure, and under such conditions, as
made negotiations impossible.

One thinks of him as one saw him then and on
another occasion, exquisitely neat, soft-voiced,
and soft-mannered, his fine eyes sparkling with
mischief, as he reached a hand to the silver gilt —
or was it gold ? — net filled with cigarettes which
hung from the wall of his delightful study in
Westminster. The house is turned into offices
now, I fancy. His room was that which you see
from Old Palace Yard, rising on the turf of the
Abbey. He said, and I daresay truly, that he
could hear the organ faintly booming as he wrote.
The juxtaposition delighted his peculiar humour,
like his relationship to good Bishop Thorold of
Winchester.

" Labby " was a friend of King Edward — at
one time an intimate friend — but for a period
they were anything but amicably inclined towards
one another, although in after years, the King
sent Sir George Lewis to see him, and by his
ministrations, peace once more reigned.

260 A PELICAN'S TALE

The cause of the quarrel was mainly on account
of a lady, a well-known Society beauty in her
day, who took to the Stage, and in whose career
King Edward showed a considerable amount of
interest. The lady, as many will recollect, went
to play in America, and Mrs. Labouchere, who
had been a very material help, by reason of her
own previous stage experience, as Miss Henrietta
Hodson, went with her.

Then came a rift within the lute between the
two dames ; there was a quarrel, the prime cause
of which need not be recalled here ; and Mrs.
Labouchere returned to England. " Labby "
naturally took his wife's side of the matter ;
King Edward was very loyal to his fair friend, and
thus he and " Labby " agreed to differ — and did
differ very considerably for a time. They were
friends, however, for a good many years before
King Edward's death.

Talking of George Lewis and Sir Charles Russell,
who, as everyone remembers, became Lord Chief
Justice of England, I recall with interest the only
time another Lord Chief appeared on my behalf.

A friend of mine came to me one day with a
pitiable tale concerning a certain small action
with which he was threatened, and sought my
advice. I told him to go and see Mr. Lewis, as
he then was, and said I would be responsible for
all costs in the matter. I believed the defence to
be a very simple and straightforward one, and so

A YOUNG FELLOW NAMED ISAACS 261

it proved to be, for on the day of the action, I
went round from my office in Fetter Lane, to the
adjacent Law Courts, to hear the matter tried,
and in the passage outside the court, the lawyer's
clerk told me that Mr. Lewis considered he had
a perfectly good defence to the matter in hand,
and that he had briefed " a young fellow named
Isaacs " to do the needful talking. " It will only
be a matter of five guineas for him/' he added.
Mr. Lewis had a high opinion of the " young
fellow named Isaacs/' the clerk said, and he per-
sonally had no doubt whatsoever that he would
do the trick both promptly and well.

And so he did ; for when the case was called
the " young fellow " in question went for the
opposition in most excellent fashion, and won his
case easily. " The young fellow named Isaacs "
some years later became famous as Sir Rufus
Isaacs, and anon as Lord Reading, Lord Chief
Justice of England.

As everyone of course knows, Lord Reading
comes of a very ancient and honourable race, and
thinking of one Hebrew who has made so much
of his life, and accomplished such great things, one
turns to another of the same faith, who made a
sad mess of his wonderful and golden chances.

Ernest Benzon is only a name in these times,
but in his brief day " the Jubilee Plunger " was
one of the most written of and talked about men
in the world. He came into an immense fortune

262 A PELICAN'S TALE

and managed to gallop through it, in what must
be record time. His " Waterloo " was achieved
much more by means of cards than by betting
on horse races, and although the gambling instinct
was born in him to an extraordinary extent, it is
a very sure thing that the crowd he got amongst
had a deal to do with his ruin.

At first he was a flat, pure and simple. Later
on he became what is known as a " fly flat/'
which is merely another variety of the genus
" mug." In the days of his prosperity and
notoriety he was a very tall thin young man, who
wore inordinately high collars, dressed conspicu-
ously, and revelled in the sensation he created
as he went about. It was music in his ears to
hear people say to one another as he passed them,
" That's The Jubilee ! " He thoroughly liked the
notoriety as he told me himself, and didn't mind
paying uncommonly dearly for it. And yet
" The Jubilee " wasn't altogether an ass. He
could talk quite cleverly upon a variety of sub-
jects when he got among men, as he occasionally
did, who didn't care for cards, and who believed
there were more fascinating pursuits than losing
money to sharps, amateur as well as professional.

One night he, another, and myself were supping
at the old Gardenia Club, somewhat late, and
suddenly " The Jubilee," who had been rather
subdued, said, "I'm going to tell you something
which will surprise a lot of people. I'm broke ! "

THE JUBILEE PLUNGER 263

Of course we thought he was joking, and the
third man who was present and who is now a
distinguished General, said, " Humbug, Jubilee,
you're kidding." " Devil a bit," he replied,
" you'll read all about it in the evening papers
to-morrow. All I ask you is that neither of you
will say a word about it to a soul, till you do/'
And of course we promised.

The account of his smash made no end of a sensa-
tion when the papers came out with the news the
following evening, and was the subject of conversa-
tion all over the country.

Gambling to any extent, for some reason or
other, never had the smallest fascination for me,
and Benzon always struck me as a human
curiosity. I could not help saying to him, " How
on earth did you come to lose all your money ?
You had an immense fortune. If you won, you
were already so well off that doing so couldn't
make a scrap of difference to you ; while by losing
as you have done, you have wrecked yourself in
every way."

His answer was curious. He said, " I quite see
the force of what you say, and perhaps you will
hardly believe me, when I tell you that if I had
another fortune I'd do it all over again." And no
doubt he would have done it too, for gambling,
as he did it, was nothing more nor less than a
particular form of insanity. He was normal
enough on most other matters, but when it came to

264 A PELICAN'S TALE

any sort of game of chance, or betting, the man
was nothing other than a lunatic. When I told
him as much he only laughed. " No doubt
you're right," he said. " I expect we are all mad
about something or other."

The Jubilee juggins was nobody's enemy but
his own, and did nobody any harm but himself.
He had few enemies, and when you come to think
things over, it is a very open matter whether a
spendthrift who distributes his money as quickly
as possible with both hands, doesn't do more good
to his fellow-men than the careful soul who saves
his portion all his life, and then leaves it to his
successor who may be just as discreet. Extrava-
gance is, no doubt, a bad thing — for the extrava-
gant person — it may do a deal of good to those
who merely come in contact with it.

Talking of contact, in connection with the
" Jubilee " recalls an occasion when Benzon just
escaped being somewhat badly hurt, and that
was in the very earliest stages of the building which
became Daly's Theatre.

When the foundation-stone of this playhouse
was well and truly laid one fine morning a good
many years ago, Miss Ada Rehan, who was
Augustine Daly's leading lady, duly smashed a
bottle of champagne on the stone for luck, and
in so doing very nearly brought disaster upon me.
As it was, I was merely considerably sprinkled
with the wine, but Bill Yardley, the famous

AN ILL OMEN 265

University cricketer and dramatic critic — he was
" Bill of the Play " of The Sporting Times of that
period — suffered a good deal more than I did.
Just as Miss Rehan hurled her bottle against the
stone, I turned my head to speak to Benzon, who
was immediately behind me, and in that moment
a large fragment of broken bottle whizzed past me
so closely that I felt the wind it created. Cecil
Raleigh had a tiny portion of the extreme point
of his nose removed by it, and poor Bill Yardley,
who was just behind, received the piece of glass
right on his forehead over his eye, with the result
that he was badly cut and bled like a stuck pig
for some time afterwards. Miss Rehan was greatly
upset by the happening, and some of those present
regarded it as a very unfortunate omen for Daly.
As many will recollect Daly's subsequent season
was not very fortunate, and in due course he let
the theatre to George Edwardes, to whom it
proved a veritable gold mine.

My earlier reference to Benzon has recalled to
my mind several racing incidents and anecdotes.
The actual value or otherwise of tips, and in this
regard I vividly recall one of the Hurst Park
Meetings of a few years ago, when I lunched with
Mr. Joseph Davis who has been so long connected
with the famous Hampton Court Race Course.
Knowing that of necessity Mr. Davis must be
familiar with all there was to know about the big
race of the day, I felt a bit reluctant about asking

266 A PELICAN'S TALE

him for the probable winner of it. It seemed so
like asking for, and then betting on, a certainty.
However, Mr. Davis was an old friend and so I
mustered up courage to do what was necessary,
for it is a plain fact that if you don't get much by
asking for it, you get nothing at all by refraining
from doing so.

It is, as everyone knows, not considered the right
thing to bother owners about their horses' chances
at a meeting, but the late George Edwardes, Mr.
W. B. Purefoy, and Mr. Sol Joel, were old
friends, and so I thought I might venture to invite
their opinions as to the likelihood of their various
candidates doing what was expected of them in
their various races that afternoon.

Any one who knows anything at all about
racing will allow, that I could not have sought
advice from four more distinguished " Heads "
than these gentlemen, and as each of them was
a pal, and as my infinitesimal investments could
not possibly have affected the market, you may
take it that I got very straight and well meant
advice.

And now here is what actually happened. In
no single case did one of these four horses win.
In no single case was one placed. So much for the
owner£' side on that day at least !

However, against this, let me say that at one
Brighton meeting I met Fred Archer, the greatest
jockey who ever lived, at a dinner party.

S/ierbo) nc, Xeicmaniet
FRED ARCHER, THE KING OF JOCKEYS

FRED ARCHER'S TIP 267

Archer had of course been riding that day, and
was going to ride next day as well, wherefore the
abstemious " Tinman's " share of that admirable
banquet, consisted exactly and precisely of two
spoonsful of clear soup, and one small piece of
toast, after which he was allowed by our hostess
to smoke a big cigar while the rest of us did our-
selves very well indeed.

I was quite a lad at the time, and had lost a
good deal more than I ought to have done over
the first day's racing, and told Archer as much
in course of conversation.

It has often been said of Archer that he never —
or hardly ever — gave tips of any sort or kind.
All I can say to this is that on the occasion
referred to, he was good enough to tell me quietly
of three races, each of which, bar accidents, he
would in all probability win on the morrow.

I duly backed those three mounts of his ; each
of them won ; and I got back what I had lost,
and made a comfortable bit as well. And so after
all there may be something in tips sometimes.

But of course you must first catch your Archer !

Talking of Archer recalls the fact that it was
common history at one time he might have
married a certain Duchess, a good lady who was
in her day a famous owner of race-horses, and
who certainly had a considerable admiration for
" THE TINMAN." The story went that the
famous jockey only declined the matrimonial

268 A PELICAN'S TALE

proposition made to him, on ascertaining that
the union would not give him the brevet rank of
a Duke! He was a wealthy man, and but for
heavy betting losses during the last two or three
years of his life, might have died either a million-
aire, or something very closely approaching one.

Like most other jockeys Archer began his career
at the very bottom of the ladder, tended the
copper fire, and bore a hand at the meanest
drudgery in connection with stable work, and
my late friend, Edward Spencer Mott, familiar
for many years on the sporting press under his
signature of " Nathaniel Gubbins," who knew
Archer well, thus described his first introduction
to him. Mott was out at exercise one morning
with Matthew Dawson, the famous trainer of
so many Derby winners. " There/' he said in
course of conversation, " is a boy who ought to
get on. His father rode the winner of a Grand
National, and the son is not only a stranger to
fear, but has the hands and seat of a Chiffney.
Come here, boy," and a slim youth with prominent
buck teeth, seated on a big raw-boned bay, fell out
of the " string," and approached his master with
a respectful touch of his cap.

" Take your horse over that fence/' was the
order given. Over went the horse, and on the
command to " Come back over it," the action
was repeated. That boy was Frederick Archer,
who was apprenticed to Mr. Dawson at the age

A SUPERSTITIOUS TRAINER 269

of eleven at a salary of seven guineas at the first
year, rising to thirteen guineas for the fourth and
fifth years.

It is curious to think of Archer, the brilliant
genius who controlled so many destinies, accepting
a wage of seven guineas with a yearly rig-out of a
hat, coat, and waistcoat ! At the zenith of his
career there could not have been a keener man at
making money — hence his nickname.

Of Archer's tragic end there is no need to tell
here, for everyone knows how he committed
suicide while temporarily insane, and there can
be no question but that his last illness was caused
in great measure by the terribly severe means he
took to keep weight down.

Reference to Matthew Dawson, most famous of
trainers, recalls the fact that he was like most
racing men peculiarly superstitious. I do not
know if " Auld Mat/' who originally hailed from
Gullane in Scotland, was ultra-particular about
walking under ladders, or spilling salt, and things
of the kind, but I do know that he was peculiarly
sensitive about certain other matters, and would
have promptly abandoned any undertaking which
he had set out to accomplish, if a hare had run
across his path.

One morning after he had left his training
quarters for the nearest station, with two or three
horses engaged next day at the Epsom Spring
Meeting, a solitary magpie — that bird of ill-omen

270 A PELICAN'S TALE

— put in an appearance directly in the path of the
" string."

" Mat " waited for a second or two, before
calling to his head lad. "D'ye see anither ane,
Geordie ? " and, as politicians so often say, the
reply was " in the negative."

" Yer sure there was jist ane ? '

" Only one, sir/' was the answer."

" Tak them hame then," said the trainer.
"We'll no travel the day." And they did
not, but returned to Compton, coming back
twenty-four hours later, when no magpie was to
be seen.

And it is to be recorded that on that very day,
Cannobie, one of the " string," won the Great
Metropolitan Handicap at Epsom from twelve
opponents.

What would have happened if the horse had
been taken to Epsom on the previous day in spite
of the encounter with the magpie, is not for me
to say.

During the time I edited a more or less theatrical
paper, I was often asked why I did not write a
play, as if the doing of such a thing was as easy
of accomplishment as tumbling off a roof. No
doubt, owing to my position, I might have
managed to get any play I had written, at least
looked at, but there, in all probability, the matter
would have ended, and I should have had my work
for nothing, which is always a highly unsatis-

PLAYWRITTNG 271

factory thing to one possessed of at least some sort
of market, to which he may drive his pigs. More-
over, to write a successful play, seems to me just
about as difficult a thing to do as to ascend from
Ludgate Circus to the top of St. Paul's on a tight
rope.

The only experience I ever had of play-writing
was when a certain syndicate, some years ago,
suggested to my old friend, Mr. Harry Grattan,
and myself, that they had lots of money, a theatre
which would shortly be at their disposal, and an
actress in whose abilities and attractiveness a
portion of the syndicate professed confidence and
admiration.

For some reason or other, this collective body
of dramatic enthusiasts opined that Mr. Grattan,
who had not then begun to write his famous
revues, and my humble self were the right and
only people in their opinion, capable of building a
musical-comedy suitable to their requirements.

Mr. Grattan was good enough to leave the
business arrangements to me, and I, being no
gambler, and essentially as well as literally Scotch,
somewhat paralysed the syndicate by declining
to work except on the conditions that for our
scenario, if accepted, we should receive a certain
sum down ; a further sum upon the acceptance
of the first act ; more when the second act was
finished and approved of ; and after production
certain other fees.

272 A PELICAN'S TALE

You see I thought it was about a thousand to
one against the piece being produced, whether
the syndicate liked it or not, and considered that
something on account was at any rate infinitely
better than a push in the eye with a blunt stick.

The Syndicate which certainly had little reason
to consider it had much of worldly wisdom to
learn, and which, by the way, included a couple
of money-lenders and a solicitor, expressed the
opinion that our suggestions were most irregular
and quite ridiculous ; we retorted that we hadn't
come to them but they to us, and that if they
desired to become possessed of our sparkling
masterpiece, these and none other were our terms.
And the syndicate stood them, greatly to our
surprise !

Perhaps it would be more correct to say they
partly stood them, for they liked the scenario
when it was read to them, and considerably
startled us by paying for it. The first act was
approved of, and duly settled for, and when the
second was read, they liked that also, and asked
us to leave it with them " for further considera-
tion " ; but the requisite and agreed upon coin
of the realm not being forthcoming, we carted our
act off again, and after a month's delay, and much
spirited correspondence, the syndicate discovered
that after all perhaps it wasn't quite so wealthy
as it had believed itself to be, and quietly wound
itself up.

AN ESSAY IN DRAMA 273

So the great work was never produced, and
probably never will be ; not that this matters to
any special extent, for I fancy we got all it was
worth. The chief moral to be deduced from this
seems to me, that if you are ever writing plays,
or doing anything else for a syndicate, have your
money as far ahead as possible, or the syndicate
may perchance have you.

Everyone knows that Mr. Grattan is to-day one
of the most successful revue authors we possess,
and in the first of his efforts in this way, at a time
when revues were comparatively unknown quanti-
ties in this country, I had the privilege of col-
laborating with him.

In this case we got as far as our scenario, and
that I placed before my good friend, Mr. Alfred
Moul, who was at that time managing-director
of the Alhambra. He gave the matter of producing
our work at the big Leicester Square House his
serious consideration. In the end, however,
nothing came of the deal, for Mr. Moul and his
fellow-directors formed the opinion that though
our ideas seemed good enough, the times were not
then ripe for introducing revues to the London
public with reasonable prospects of successful
returns. Indeed, the majority of the Board who
sat in judgment on our scheme were of opinion
that revue would not pay at all in London gener-
ally, and at the Alhambra in particular. As
events proved not very long afterwards, the Board

274 A PELICAN'S TALE

was wrong. Revues became, and are still very
popular, and Mr. Grattan has, since he started
writing them, proved himself to be a past master
at the game. Our piece might have been all
right. You never caniell !

CHAPTER XVIII

What John Hollingshead said about unlucky theatres — " Prac-
tical John " — The ill-fortune of the Olympic — Concerning the
Opera Comique and the Old Globe — D'Oyly Carte's first suc-
cess— The Olympic as a music-hall — How Wilson Barrett came
to Wych Street — How he also nearly reached Carey Street
by so doing ! — His subsequent triumph with The Sign of the
Cross — The Kingsway and its numerous other names — The
Court Theatre in former days — A big success at little Terry's
—Mr. Charles Hawtrey's triumph with The Private Secretary —
How Sir Herbert Tree appeared as The Rev. Robert Spalding
— How Penley followed him in the part — An extraordinary
success — Rare Fred Leslie ! — A change from romantic opera
to Gaiety musical-comedy — The Gaiety almost a stock com-
pany theatre — How Mr. Seymour Hicks and Miss Ellaline
Terriss came to the Gaiety — The George Grossmith period —
A very successful management,

HE was no less a light of theatrical
management than John Hollingshead,
predecessor of George Edwardes at
the old Gaiety Theatre, which stood
where the present offices of the Morning Post
now are, who could never be brought to believe
that there was such a thing in this world as an
unlucky theatre.

" Practical John " as he used to be called, though
he was in many ways the most unpractical as well
as the kindliest of men, held the belief that " if
the Public wanted to see any particular play they
would go through a drain to do so."

275

276 A PELICAN'S TALE

No doubt there is a measure of truth in this,
but no one will think otherwise than that a piece
will have much more likelihood of blossoming
into a success if produced at a popular well
situated theatre, than if it sees light for the first
time in one out of favour ; and it is certainly
curious how unfortunate some theatres were —
and are.

There was no greater instance of this than that
of the old Olympic, though neither the Globe nor
the Opera Comique, its near neighbours, were
much luckier, despite the fact that at the former
Mr. Charles Hawtrey made at least one fortune
with The Private Secretary, and that at the latter
Mr. George Edwardes did well with the burlesque
Joan-of-Arc, and prior to that D'Oyly Carte
began his wonderful managerial career there.
These were, however, outstanding exceptions in a
considerable tale of financial un-success.

The Olympic was a veritable fortune swallower.
When Mr. Henry Neville had his season there,
backed by a former Lord Londesborough,
grandfather of the present peer, considerable
money was dropped, and many who came after
lost large sums. Mrs. Conover spent most of what
she possessed in this house, and Miss Agnes
Hewitt, despite the production of The Pointsman,
the best thing Mr. Cecil Raleigh and Mr. Claude
Carton collaborated in, and with a company
which included Mr. Willard, Miss Maud Milton,

WILSON BARRETT'S SUCCESS 277

and many other fine actors, lost a fortune, after
the critics had proclaimed the piece one of the
strongest dramas ever written, and had foretold
the change of luck now assured to the theatre.

The Olympic was, after sundry other managers
had burnt their fingers with it, turned into a
music-hall, when General Playfair, father of Mr.
Arthur Playfair, was one of the directors, but
despite the fact that strong bills were offered, the
Public stayed away in enormous numbers, and
the idea came to an end. Then, having partly re-
built and re-decorated the house, Mr. Wilson
Barrett, at that time one of the most popular
actors in London with a great personal following,
came to the Olympic and produced there the
identical plays which had crowded the old Prin-
cess's Theatre in Oxford Street.

The net result of these revivals was that he lost
many thousands of pounds, and left the place
wellnigh ruined, till fortune again came to him
when he wrote and produced The Sign of the
Cross at the Lyric. If he had presented that
marvellously successful piece at the Olympic, I
for one believe it would have proved a failure.
Fortunately he did not do so.

Another theatre which for a considerable time
failed to achieve the luck it deserved is the
Kingsway. Of course I know that Fanny's First
Play and sundry other productions had longish
runs, and that Miss Lena Ashwell produced some

278 A PELICAN'S TALE

good plays which lasted fairly well during her
management of the theatre, but it is, I believe, a
familiar thing to most people who know anything
at all of theatreland, that Miss Ashwell made no
fortune out of the place, despite the plucky fight
she made for success there.

The famous Mr. W. S. Penley lost a deal of the
fortune he had made out of Charley's Aunt when
he purchased the theatre, re-built it in part, and
called it Penley's, and certainly Mrs. Churchill-
Jodrell failed to set the Thames on fire during her
tenancy of the place when Colonel Sargeant
managed for her, and when the theatre was known
as The Jodrell.

In its earlier days the place had been known as
the Novelty and was controlled at one time by
the first Mrs. Horace Sedger, who was Miss Nellie
Harris, sister of Augustus of Drury Lane. Miss
Harris, who had the advantage of her brother's
assistance, produced a very amusing farce by
Mr. T. G. Warren called Nita's First followed
by the burlesque Lallah Rook, in which Kate
Vaughan and a strong company appeared, but
the success of the double bill was not a great
one, and the Harris management came to an
end.

This is all for the greater part somewhat
ancient history of course, still it does seem to
point to the fact that some theatres do appear to
be heavily handicapped somehow or other, though

" THE PRIVATE SECRETARY ' 279

the ill luck which comes to them may not always
have been there.

The Court, for example, is an instance of this.
Of late years it has not been specially fortunate,
and yet at one time, during the period that Sir
Arthur Pinero was coming into his kingdom as an
author, and when the company included Mrs.
John Wood, Arthur Cecil, John Clayton, Miss
Norreys, Harry Eversfield, and the rest, the
Court was, perhaps, the most popular theatre in
London ; so too was Terry's during the run of
Sir Arthur Pinero's Sweet Lavender, but the luck
did not stick, and the place, after a lengthy
period as a Cinema show, is again to be a theatre
proper.

Talking of Penley recalls the extraordinary
success he scored as the Rev. Robert Spalding in
The Private Secretary, of which part, by the way,
one has several times seen it stated that Sir
Herbert Tree was the creator.

It is true that Tree immediately preceded
Penley in the part, but the actual first player of
the remarkable clergyman who did not like
London, was a matter-of-fact Mr. Arthur Helmore
when Mr. Charles Hawtrey's adaptation of Von
Moser's farcical comedy was produced at the old
theatre at Cambridge, then the property of
Mr. W. B. Redfern.

Mr. Hawtrey's famous play had quite a remark-
able history, for after its trial trip at Cambridge

280 A PELICAN'S TALE

he sought in vain for a time someone to take it off
his hands and run it in London. It was offered
to a friend of mine who witnessed its production
at Cambridge, for five hundred pounds, but the
offer was emphatically declined. Thus are the
chances of fortunes lost.

In the end, the piece was put on in London at
the Prince's — now Prince of Wales's Theatre—
by Mr. Edgar Bruce with Tree as Spalding, Bill
Hill as old Cattermole, and Miss Vane Feather-
stone and Miss Maude Millett as the two young
ladies of the piece. Mr. Hawtrey did not play in
it himself at that time.

The play was not kindly treated by the
dramatic critics, and in spite of Tree's great
success as the Curate, the paying Public insisted
in failing to arrive in sufficient force to make it
worth while to go on. And so the run came to an
end.

Then Mr. Hawtrey did a very bold thing. He
believed in his play, and showed the valour of his
opinion by taking it to the old Globe Theatre, at
that time a somewhat luckless house in New-
castle Street just off the Strand, and putting it
on with himself as Douglas Cattermole, but with-
out Tree, the one man who had really done well
in it. In Tree's place, he secured W. S. Penley,
who at that time was much less familiar as a
comedian than as a singer of minor parts in comic
opera, and who had just been appearing as Derek

AN EXTRAORDINARY SUCCESS 281

von Hans in Rip Van Winkle at the Comedy,
where Fred Leslie and Miss Violet Cameron had
scored such triumphs.

When his friends heard that Mr. Hawtrey had
taken the Globe for The Private Secretary and
had engaged Penley for the part on which the
entire show depended, they thought and said that
he must have taken leave of his senses. But as
every one knows he had done nothing of the kind.

At first it looked as if his pluck was going to
avail him nothing, and houses were small ; then
things changed slowly but surely, business began
to pick up, and the piece settled into one of the
greatest financial successes ever known in stage-
land, for it ran for close upon three years and
made a big fortune for Mr. Hawtrey, a consider-
able portion of which he soon after lost when
he took Her Majesty's Theatre, and produced
amongst other things the tremendously costly
three-hour long ballet Excelsior.

I mentioned that Penley came in a single
spring from singing a minor part in Rip Van
Winkle to be one of the most famous and popular
actors in London, and in like fashion Fred Leslie
was another instance of an actor coming out of
romantic opera to become a comedian pure and
simple as he did when he went to the old Gaiety,
where he stayed so long under George Edwardes'
management, dividing honours in many pro-
ductions with Nellie Farren.

282 A PELICAN'S TALE

Somehow the Gaiety has always been the
nearest approach to a Stock Company of any
theatre in town, the same set of players staying
there for years, and appearing in each production
as it came along.

In John Hollingshead's time " The Merry
Family " were the chief mainstays of the place
and included the famous quartette Edward Terry,
Nellie Farren, Kate Vaughan, and Edward Royce.
Terry was of course the principal comedian of the
burlesques then in favour, Nellie Farren the
principal boy, Kate Vaughan the principal girl
and chief dancer — and she could dance — dividing
honours in this respect with Mr. Royce who was
in those days a dancer of quite remarkable grace
and agility. Other well-known Gaiety comedians
of that time were Tom Squire, very tall and thin,
Johnny Dallas, rather short and fat, Frank Wyatt,
a very agile dancer in his day, Willie Elton also
excessively nimble, and E. J. Henley, a brother of
the famous William Ernest Henley, the poet and
one time editor of The National Observer, which in
earlier days was known as The Scott's Observer.
Then there was Miss Phyllis Broughton and Miss
Connie Gilchrist or Lady Orkney as she is now,
and many more.

When John Hollingshead took George Edwardes
into partnership at the old Gaiety, things were
more or less in a transient state. Burlesque of the
old sort was becoming very frayed at the edges,

FRED LESLIE 283

the Public was showing a desire for something
different, and the first musical production the
twain were concerned with, was The Vicar of
Wide-Awake-Field, a more or less modern bur-
lesque of the big Lyceum production wherein Sir
Henry Irving made so great an impression by his
charming old Vicar, and Miss Ellen Terry was the
erring daughter led astray by the very dashing
Squire Thornhill of William Terriss. In the
Gaiety version of the piece, Mr. Arthur Roberts,
who had but recently forsaken the music-halls
for the theatres, played the title part, and his
song " The Very Wicked Vicar " will no doubt
still be remembered with special joy by many.

It was when Hollingshead dropped out, and
George Edwardes got the Gaiety into his own
hands, that he cast about for a new comedian
suited to the musical comedies he then and there
began to produce, and with that wonderful fore-
sight of his for seeing possibilities not apparent
to most people, he lighted on handsome, sweet-
voiced Fred Leslie, who was in the midst of his
remarkable success as Rip at the Comedy.

The engagement at first sight did not seem at
all a suitable one, for the differences between a
Gaiety show and romantic opera were wide apart
indeed, and no one was less sure of its likelihood
of success than Fred himself, who told me that it
was only the very generous terms offered him
which tempted him to make the plunge. However,

284 A PELICAN'S TALE

George Edwardes then and there gave one of the
many proofs of his extraordinary judgment. He
was quite certain that Leslie would be a great
success at the Gaiety, and, as every one remembers,
Edwardes was thoroughly justified in this opinion,
and there Fred stayed, with occasional breaks
caused by visits to America and the Provinces,
till his all too early death.

During his absence E. J. Lonnen, who had played
seconds to him, came into his own on several
occasions, notably in Miss Esmerelda.

Leslie's successor as principal Gaiety comedian,
was also a surprise to the general public but not
entirely to my humble self, for one day the good
George Edwardes, in whose office I happened to
be, told me he was in great doubt as to whom he
should engage to follow Leslie, and asked me a
number of questions concerning " that young
fellow Hicks " who was then playing at the Court
Theatre in a revue called Under the Clock, the
joint work of himself and Charles Brookfield. I
had sung the praises of my old-young friend
Seymour at considerable length in print, and I
proceeded to enlarge upon his qualities then.
" He's just the man for you/' I said. " He is
young, very bright, and nice looking. He can
sing, and dance a bit, is as clever as paint, and
with a little more experience will do big things."

Well, one result of our conversation was that an
emissary on whose judgment George Edwardes

SEYMOUR HICKS 285

could entirely depend, was sent along to the Court
to observe how Mr. Hicks shaped that evening,
and the report he brought back was so favourable
that George himself went to see him the following
night, and as a result Mr. Hicks and his charming
wife Miss Ellaline Terriss were engaged to go to
the Gaiety for a considerable period, and there they
stayed for many moons, playing the principal
parts in a number of highly successful musical
comedies, of most of which Seymour was the author.
It was trying the young actor uncommonly
highly to ask him to follow so great a favourite
at the Gaiety as Fred Leslie, and to do so, more-
over, in one of his most successful creations, that
of Jonathan Wild in Little Jack Sheppard, but, as
all who were present on the memorable Gaiety
first night will recollect, Seymour came through
the trial with flying colours, and never afterwards
looked backward. He was heavily handicapped,
too, for he had suffered from terrible neuralgia for
some days before making his Gaiety debut, and
on the very afternoon of the performance, was in
such agony that he boldly faced a dentist and
had several teeth pulled out. I came upon him
in the Strand shortly after his time of trouble, and
certainly no one could have looked less like a
Gaiety principal comedian than he did then. He
told me afterwards that he spent the hours
between that time and going to the theatre
praying at the Oratory for strength to get through

286 A PELICAN'S TALE

his ordeal that night. Obviously his prayers were
answered, for his success was considerable.

After what I may call the Hick's regime at the
Gaiety, and when he departed to go into manage-
ment on his own account, came the George
Grossmith period, which lasted for a long time
and during which " G. G. " played the principal
parts in many productions, several of which he
wrote, and ultimately when George Edwardes
died, Grossmith and his partner, Mr. Edward
Laurillard, took over the control of the Gaiety
till such time as they moved on elsewhere.

The extraordinary success of the Grossmith-
Laurillard combination is a thing familiar to all
concerned in any way with theatreland. Mr.
Laurillard was of course no new comer into
management, for he had been concerned with
quite a number of productions at various theatres,
and was, moreover, with his late partner Mr.
Horace Sedger, one of the first to recognise the
potentialities of the Cinema theatre, and to take
very full advantage of them. I fancy he has now
parted with all the picture palaces he was con-
nected with, except the New Gallery Kinema in
Regent Street, with which he still retains his very
successful associations.

CHAPTER XIX

The passing of Sir Herbert Tree — A terribly sudden ending to a
great career — The last letter he wrote — His remarkably
successful management — A fine character-actor — A master of
make-up — How he puzzled his audience when The Red Lamp
was produced — Tree's visit to Berlin — Max Beerbohm's retort
— Sir George Alexander and the St. James's — His earlier days
at the Lyceum — The first venture into management at the
old Avenue — Alexander as an eccentric dancer — The romantic
actor as a robust comedian — The murder of William Terris —
What became of his hat ? — George Alexander and the dramatic
author — " A matter of moonshine " — Oscar Wilde and Lady
Windermere's Fan — Alec's old Scotch nurse and what she
thought of his profession — A very sensitive and kindly
natured man — The secret of his great personal popularity.

ON the morning of the third day of July,
1917, all the papers announced the
death of the famous actor-manager
Sir Herbert Tree, to the great sorrow
of the play-going world, and to the intense sur-
prise of those who knew the nature of the com-
paratively minor trouble he had been suffering
from, as well as the admirable cure he had been
making at one of the nursing homes of the famous
surgeon Sir Alfred Fripp, who had performed an
operation upon him with apparently complete
success.

On reaching my office that morning, the first
of many envelopes to be opened was one whereon

287

288 A PELICAN'S TALE

the address was typed, and the mark of date and
time of posting stood out clearly, " 3.15 p.m.,
2 July, '17." It contained a letter from the dead
actor-manager, a very dear and kind friend of
many years standing. " I send you my greetings
from a sick-bed and I would very much like to

see you, for I want to learn all about poor

(mentioning the name of a mutual friend who
was very ill at the time). I am really quite
ignorant about it all and you may imagine how
anxious I am to know. How about 4.30 to-
morrow ; could you come then ? Do so if you
can. I'll try to keep myself free and we can have
a long talk. I trust all is going well with you.
Yours as ever, Herbert B. Tree."

It was curious to read a letter from a man
asking one to come and see him that day, and then
to think of what seemed at the time almost an
incredible thing, that Herbert Tree had gone from
us for ever.

The letter must have been one of the last —
perhaps the very last — he ever wrote, and it must
have been posted very shortly before his terribly
sudden going.

The operation had been a complete success.
He had stood it excellently well, looked to be
making a perfect recovery, and Sir Alfred Fripp
was more than ordinarily pleased with his patient's
condition, fine pluck, and high spirits, for Tree
was one of his most intimate friends.

SIR HERBERT TREE'S DEATH 289

There was every reason to suppose, that all was
going as well as possible, not only from the
ordinary person's point of view, but also from that
of the surgeon. I have seen his chart ; it was all
it should have been. Everything was regular,
there was no fever, no temperature. A little rest ;
a few days of quiet in bed, and it seemed that
everything would be right again, and that he
would be back on the stage of His Majesty's
Theatre.

And then the utterly unexpected happened. The
ten thousand to one chance against success, came
off. A tiny clot of blood floating about, went the
wrong way, and the end came immediately.

It was on the afternoon of the second of July
and Sir Alfred Fripp had looked in to see his
patient, who was as cheerful and full of whimsical
fun as usual. As he left him there was every
outward sign that all was well. Tree had had a
number of visitors to see him, some of whom had
smoked, and when the last of these had gone
about five o'clock, the nurse who was attending
him said, " Don't you think, Sir Herbert, I had
better open the window a little more to let the
smoke out ? " And the answer was, " Yes, please,
do so."

While the nurse turned to the window and in
the few seconds occupied in lowering it, the hand
of the Grim Reaper fell and Herbert Tree took his
last call.

2QO A PELICAN'S TALE

His loss to the British Stage was of course a
very great one indeed. He was the outstanding
man on the Boards. The only man who was
doing really big work, and he stood for all that
was best in theatreland. When Sir Henry
Irving died, it seemed that no one could ever
come to fill his place. Perhaps no one ever will
completely do so, but Tree certainly came as
close to it as possible, and at the time he died he
held a position on the English Stage which was
quite by itself. He controlled the chief theatre
in London. His productions had been of the first
order. He had been knighted by his Sovereign
amidst the complete approval of his fellow-
players, and of the Public generally, and he had
done much to keep Shakespeare alive on our
stage. Added to all this he was a man of remark-
able ability in many directions other than acting,
and was one of the most popular and lovable of
men.

Opinions may, and do differ about him as a
player, but there never were two sides as to
splendour of his productions, and of his earnest-
ness and sincerity of purpose. My own opinion
is one which I ventured to express to him, that he
was a great character-actor but not a leading-man.

You have only to think of his Macari in Called
Back ; Svengali in Trilby ; Sir Woodbine Grafton
in Peril ; Spalding in The Private Secretary ;
Baron Hartfeld in Jim the Penman ; and of his

A FINE ACTOR 291

wonderful Demetrius in The Red Lamp, the piece
with which he opened his first managerial cam-
paign at the Comedy Theatre in 1887, to follow
my meaning.

His skill in make-up was wonderful, and some-
times on first-nights of new plays wherein he was
appearing, you did not recognise Tree till he
spoke. This was notably so when The Red Lamp
was produced. He was on the stage for quite a
long time before the audience was aware that the
fat, ponderous, stooping old Russian diplomatist,
with the heavy eyebrows and white hair, was the
actor-manager they had come to wish good luck
to, in his new home, and it was only when he
spoke that he got his " reception."

The success of The Red Lamp was so great
financially as well as artistically, that Tree was
able to secure the Haymarket, where he stayed
until he took possession in April, 1897, of the re-
built Her Majesty's Theatre, which in due course
became His Majesty's.

The larger stage of the new play-house gave
him the chance he had wanted of big productions
such as his various Shakesperian revivals, Rip
Van Winkle, Ulysses, The Darling of the Gods,
Faust, and The Last of the Dandies, to name only
a few of the big spectacular shows with which
his name will always be connected.

Although he was born in London, spent almost
all his life there, and was essentially English in

292 A PELICAN'S TALE

every possible idea and way, Tree never quite
got rid of the suggestion of foreign accent in-
herited no doubt from his father, Mr. Julius Beer-
bohm, who originally hailed from Hun-Land ;
and, talking of that country, it will no doubt be
recalled that Tree and his company in 1907
visited Berlin and were made much of by the Arch-
Hun and his subjects.

Although it is chiefly as a very admirable cari-
caturist that Mr. Max Beerbohm is known to the
public, most of us are doubtless aware that he is
the half-brother of the late Sir Herbert Tree.
But before he began to draw to any great extent,
he had written three slim volumes which made a
lot of people smile, and a number of others very
angry indeed.

Mr. Beerbohm's first book, written when he
was very young, was called The Works of Max
Beerbohm, and this was shortly afterwards
followed by More, which is a cryptic enough title
in all conscience.

But at a still more tender period, Mr. Beer-
bohm was wont to be somewhat mystic in his
expressions, as witness the following told me by
Tree.

On one occasion, in celebration of his tenth
birthday, it seems that Max took a little too much
sherbet or something of the kind, at the family
celebration of the anniversary, whereupon Tree
addressing him with sorrow in his voice said,

SIR GEORGE ALEXANDER 293

" Max, it is bad to be tipsy at ten." To this the
youthful Mr. Beerbohm responded in the never-
to-be-forgotten words : " How can one be tipsy,
when we are conscious that they are not ? ' And
as the good Tree said, " No one could answer that
conundrum ? '

In the year following Tree's death, Stage-Land
had another severe loss, when Sir George Alexander
died after a long lingering illness, and although
there were never two men less alike than Tree and
Alexander, there were certain points of resem-
blance in their work and methods.

In each case the actor was his own manager,
which meant of course that he could put on what
plays he chose, and cast himself for such parts as
he liked. Each had a fine theatre with a distinct
following of its own, for if at His Majesty's audi
ences were larger as a rule than at the St. James's,
which George Alexander took over in January,
1891, and held till he died twenty-seven years
later, there was a very regular following, largely
attracted by the personality of the actor-manager,
and as Alexander himself said he claimed to have
established the St. James's as the Premier Comedy
Theatre in England.

Certainly the theatre was always a specially
popular one with the gentler sex, and it was a
strange night at the King Street House when the
women in the audience did not at least treble the
men present.

294 A PELICAN'S TALE

It was when he was a member of the famous
Irving company at the Lyceum, that George
Alexander first attracted attention, and what a
wonderful company that was to be sure, for in
addition to " The Chief " and the leading lady,
Miss Ellen Terry, there were such famous players
as William Terriss, Forbes Robertson, Winifred
Emery, George Alexander, and Mrs. Stirling to
name only a few of them.

Although he had been a member of the Lyceum
fold for some time previously, and had accom-
panied Henry Irving to America, it was not till
the great Lyceum production of Faust that
Alexander got his first outstanding chance. In
this he played Valentine, H. B. Con way, one of
the handsomest of actors then on the stage, and
the husband of the well-known actress Miss Kate
Phillips, being specially imported to the company
to play the title part.

This engagement was not a success. Con way
was an excellent actor of certain parts, but Faust
was assuredly not one of these, and after tackling
it for a week or so he became ill, and resigned, his
place being taken by Alexander, who made a big
hit in the part, and later on the Gattis at the
Adelphi — at that time the home of melodrama-
seeking for a likely hero to follow in Terriss 's
footsteps, secured him as their leading man in
London Day by Day in 1889.

By the way, the mention of poor Tenlss's nani*

" DOCTOR BILL " 295

recalls rather a curious thing. It will be recol-
lected that the actor was foully murdered by a
lunatic as he was entering the Adelphi Theatre,
at which he was leading man at the time. Imme-
diately after the stabbing, Terriss was carried in
at the stage-door, and some one who stood by
said, " Where is his hat ? " Search was made for
it at once, and although the terrible deed had only
been committed a few seconds before, the hat was
gone, nor was it ever recovered. Who took it, I
wonder ?

It was while playing at the Adelphi that
hearing the old Avenue Theatre, on the site
of which the Playhouse now stands, was going
a-begging, Alexander took the house, producing
there a wildly farcical-comedy called Doctor Bill,
in which he intended to create the part of Dr.
William Brown and introduce the famous " Kan-
garoo Dance " with Miss Edith Ken ward, but as
he was not free to do so, Mr. Fred Terry was
called in to keep the part warm till Alexander
was ready to take it over, which he did shortly
after.

The new manager ought to have made a good
deal more money than he did with his first venture,
but without recalling too closely certain happen-
ings at that time, it may be said that a lot
of the coin which ought to have reached him
failed to do so. However, that's an old story now.
Anyhow later on in the same year, Alexander

296 A PELICAN'S TALE

gave up the Avenue, and took over the St. James's,
where he opened with Sunlight and Shadow.

Of the many successful plays which the new
manager produced at the St. James's it is un-
necessary to tell, but here is an account of a play
which he did not produce, and concerning which
he told me himself.

A certain fairly well-known dramatic author
came to see him one day at the St. James's, and
suggested that life would present a more glowing
aspect to him than it then did, if " Alec " would
lend him a hundred pounds. Having been as
repeatedly tapped as many better and worse men
had been before him, and being very familiar with
the sound financial advice of Polonius, the actor-
manager responded that much as he would like to
oblige the author, he had so many calls on him —
and so on, and so forth. But he added, " Will
fifty pounds be of any use to you ? ' " Yes, I
believe it will," retorted the other. " So-and-so
has a play of mine and may accept it at any
moment. I can easily pay you back in a month's
time."

" Well," said Alexander, " I'll tell you what
I'll do. I'll let you have fifty pounds but not
as a loan. You are a clever fellow ; write me a
play for the St. James's, and I'll give you fifty
pounds now in advance of fees of five per cent on
the gross, whenever the play is acted. Sit down
and draw up an agreement between us now."

ALEXANDER ANECDOTES 297

" Right you are/' said the author, and proceeded
to do the deed. " By the way/' he said, looking
up, " what shall we call the play ? I must fill in
a title you know/' " Oh well/' replied Alec,
" call it ' All Moonshine/ " And the thing was
done. Exit the author with fifty pounds in his
pocket. A week later he reappeared, and said, " I
have paragraphed the fact that you have com-
missioned me to write you a play. Are you
particularly keen on keeping the American rights
or can I deal with them ? " " Well," said Alex-
ander, " the English rights are good enough for
me. I'll present you with the American ones/'

" Now that's really very good of you," said the
author, " for the fact is that Frohman, hearing
you had commissioned me to write a play for the
St. James's, has offered me a hundred pounds in
advance of the American rights." " That's capi-
tal," said Alexander, " good ; you take it."

The sequel to the story is, that the play was
never written ; that the author pocketed one
hundred and fifty pounds ; and that he un-
fortunately shortly afterwards died !

Here too is another yarn of Alec's concerning a
play which was produced with great success alike
to its author and to its producer.

One day Oscar Wilde, at that time in the height
of his fame as a celebrity, or notoriety, whichever
you like, gave Alexander a play in blank verse to
read which appealed to the manager immensely.

298 A PELICAN'S TALE

However, he thought it too expensive a production
to embark upon in the earlier days of his mana-
gerial career, so he returned it, at the same time
asking Wilde to write him a modern play, offering
him one hundred pounds in advance of fees.

Wilde took the money, and for some months
after Alexander heard nothing more of him or his
play. One day, however, came a letter from the
author asking the manager to name a time when
he would hear the play read, and as Alexander
himself said, " I shall never forget the delight I
experienced in hearing him read Lady Winder-
mere's Fan, for that was the play he brought

me."

" Do you like it ? " he asked at the end of the
reading. " Like it," I said, " like is not the
word. It is simply wonderful." " Well," said
Wilde, " I am rather pushed just now, and want
some money : what will you give f or it ? " " 111
give a thousand pounds with pleasure," said
Alexander. " A thousand pounds ! " exclaimed
Wilde, " you don't surely mean that. Do you
mean a thousand pounds in ready money ? "
"Yes, certainly," said Alexander, "I'll give you
a cheque for it right away." " Well," said Wilde,
" I'd like the money, but if you believe in the
piece as much as that, I don't think I'll sell it to
you right out — no, the more I think of it, the less
I want to sell — I'll take a percentage." And he
did ; of course taking a good many thousand

A GOOD BUSINESS MAN 299

pounds in fees, instead of the single thousand he
nearly accepted.

Although Wilde was wise in his generation in
believing in Alexander's judgment, all who knew
the actor-manager did not hold it in so high an
opinion. For instance, there was his old Scotch
nurse, who, like so many others of her kind, re-
garded the calling of the actor as everything that
was vile and unholy. Alexander told me that
most of his Scotch relatives were opposed to his
Stage career more or less mildly, but the anti-
pathy of the old nurse in question was remark-
able. She quite believed that her erstwhile
charge was on the high road to destruction.

One day after he had begun to make headway
in his career, and was indeed at the Lyceum,
Alexander saw his old friend and expressed the
hope that she had overcome her prejudices.

" Indeed I have not, Mister George/' she said.
11 I conseeder it is an awfu way to get a leeving,
but I do hear that you have made a heap of
money at it, and I hope that you will soon retire
so that you may have time to repent and get
your peace made wee yer Maker/'

Unlike most actors, or even actor-managers,
Alexander was a most methodical man of great
business ability, and many of those who only
knew him slightly believed him to be possessed
of a very matter-of-fact, unemotional person-
ality. Beneath this exterior, however, there was

300 A PELICAN'S TALE

a singularly sensitive and easily-wounded nature,
and of that I had proof one evening at the St.
James's.

I had received a note during the day from his
secretary enclosing a couple of tickets for the
piece he was then appearing in, saying that Mr.
Alexander, as he then was, particularly wanted to
see me on a matter of business if I could call on
him at the end of the first act.

I did not know Alexander personally at the
time, though I afterwards came to know and like
him well, and I had not the smallest idea what he
could want with me.

However, I went to the St. James's, and at the
end of the act was taken to his dressing-room, or
rather to one adjoining it.

In a few minutes he walked in, just as he had
been on the stage, the make-up of course looking
curious close at hand.

He came towards me as I thought very stagily,
and in a singular emotional voice said at once
with no preliminary, "You don't know me,
do you ? " I replied that I had not had the
pleasure of meeting him till then.

II Well," said he, " you've nothing against me ?"
"Nothing," said I. "Why do you ask? " Where-
upon he pulled out a couple of clippings from a
paper sent him by a Press-cutting Association
marked " From the Pelican." " I don't mind
fair criticism," he said, " but I do mind spiteful

A SPORTSMAN 301

personal attacks like these. Surely, man, you
can't defend that sort of thing ? "

" No I can't/' I said, as I glanced at the
objectionable paragraphs in question, " but I had
better tell you at once that your Press-cutting
people have made a mistake, and that these are
not from my paper."

There was a slight pause, and then " Good
Lord ! " he said, " have I made a mistake and
done you an injustice ? I don't know how to
express my regret. What can I do ?"

" You can shake hands, give me a drink, and
promise to write a little yarn for my Christmas
number," I replied. All of which things he did ;
and from that time on, George Alexander was a
good kind friend to me for whom I had ever the
warmest regard.

I merely mention this little matter to show
that he was by no means the unemotional, in-
different, wooden man, so many people believed
him to be off the stage. On the contrary, he was
an ultra-sensitive kindly natured fellow, desiring
nothing better than to live on good terms with all
he came in contact with, and his kindly, generous,
gentle nature endeared him to very many.

CHAPTER XX

The Genesis of the Christmas Pelican — A rather remarkable pro-
duction— The extraordinary list of authors — The strongest
cast not merely in London but in the world — Henry Irving,
Sarah Bernhardt, and Herbert Tree as story-tellers — The
editorial difficulties of dealing with the eminent scribes — The
Maharaja of Cooch Behar — A fine sportsman and a very
" white " native — His theatrical supper party, and what
occurred at it — The lightning change of the Maharaja from an
English gentleman to an Eastern potentate — What he said to
his dependant — The extraordinary effect his words produced —
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde in real life — My main object in
starting The Pelican — How I was fortunately able to realise
it — How the war nearly finished us — but didn't — I decide to
retire — The sale of The Pelican to a syndicate — Out of the
pull and push — And very glad and thankful to be so.

FOR one reason at least the Christmas
number of The Pelican was rather a
remarkable production, and that was on
account of the extraordinary list of
authors who were good enough to allow themselves
to be lured into contributing to its pages each
year.

As perhaps some of those who read these lines
are aware, the Christmas Pelican always con-
sisted of short stories told by the most prominent
and distinguished actors and actresses, and al-
though upon one or two occasions certain cele-
brities who were not immediately connected with

302

A LABOUR OF HERCULES 303

the Stage, were included in the list of authors, the
general rule was that the players were the things.

It was a pleasant and certainly very popular
idea to get those who were largely written about
in the course of the year in the columns of the
paper to furnish the contents of the Christmas
Number, and whether the plan was an entirely
novel one, or merely a repetition of one that had
been used before, no other journal, to my know-
ledge, during the eight-and-twenty years I con-
ducted The Pelican did anything of the kind.

It was not an easy job to induce the large num-
ber of very distinguished men and women, each
very busily engaged in his or her own calling, to
turn authors even once a year, and if I had not
had the advantage of knowing most of my eminent
contributors intimately, I fear I should have
never brought the thing off.

The chief difficulty was not to get the theatrical
narrators to promise me contributions, for actors
and actresses are always so good-natured that
they made no difficulty about that ; it was the
really remarkable trouble which invariably oc-
curred in inducing the distinguished scribes to
actually weigh in with their works which annually
greyed my locks to a very considerable extent.
However, by some means or other, we always
managed to get all the contributions in at the
last moment, just as the master-printer was
beginning to rend his hair, cast dust upon his

304 A PELICAN'S TALE

breast, and make oath before Heaven that the
Annual could not by any human possibility be
printed by the contract time. The great fact is
that it was always done, and we were never a day
late in publication.

When you consider how vast a proportion of
the Public pays its good money every night to see
and hear the popular stage favourites, it was only
natural that a large number of them should have
willingly paid their sixpences to come into more
or less personal touch with some thirty-five to
forty leading stars of the theatrical firmament,
by way of their usually amusing personal experi-
ences narrated in our paper, accompanied by their
latest and most attractive portraits.

The list of my Christmas authors included,
almost without exception, the leading actors and
actresses who charmed us between the years 1889
and 1917, in the Christmas of which latter year
the last Annual produced under my control ap-
peared.

Among the many distinguished people who have
" gone on ahead " who told their Christmas
stories for us, were Sir Henry Irving, Sir Herbert
Tree, and Sir George Alexander on many occa-
sions, Mr. Wilson Barrett, Sir Augustus Harris of
Drury Lane, Miss Florence St. John, Mr. Lewis
Waller, Mr. Fred Leslie, Miss Nellie Farren, Miss
Kate Vaughan, Mr. John Hollingshead of the old
Gaiety, Mr. Arthur Williams, Mr. Edmund Payne,

LITERARY LIGHTS 305

Mr. George Edwardes, Mr. Teddy Lonnen, Mr.
Charles Danby, Mr. Dan Leno, and Mr. Barney^
Barnato of South African fame, who had a certain
amount to do with stage-life prior to becoming a
several-times-over millionaire.

Madame Sarah Bernhardt was kind enough on
three occasions to contribute to our columns, and
her sprightly country-women Mile. Delysia and
Mile. Gaby des Lys, like M. Morton, were members
of our Christmas staff on more than one occasion.

Among the many sweet singers whom I induced
to turn authors were Miss Violet Cameron, Miss^
Ruth Vincent, Miss Constance Drever, Miss Isabel
Jay, Miss Marie Tempest, Miss Lily Elsie, and
Signor Caruso^ While the managers, in addition
to those already named, included among others
my good friends Mr. Frank Curzon, Mr. George
Dance, Mr. Cyril Maude, Sir Alfred Butt, Mr.
Arthur Collins, Mr. Dennis Eadie, Mr. Matheson
Lang, Mr. Frederick Harrison, Mr. Robert Court-
neidge, Mr. Vedrenne, Mr. Tom B. Davis, Mr.
Robert Evett, Mr. Charles Cochran, and Mr.
Gerald du Maurier.

Our dancing contributors included at various
times Mile. Genee, Mile. Lydia Kyasht, Miss Lettie
Lind, Miss Sylvia Grey, Miss Florence Levey, Miss
Olive May, Miss Ivy Shilling, and Miss Katie Sey-
mour ; while among the more serious players may
be mentioned Mrs. Langtry, Mrs. Brown Potter,
Miss Ethel Irving, Mr. Weedon Grossmith, Miss

306 A PELICAN'S TALE

Agnes Hewitt, Miss Violet Vanbrugh, Miss Gladys '
Cooper, Miss Irene Vanbrugh, Mr. Arthur Bouchier,
Miss Iris Hoey, Mr. Charles Hawtrey, Mr. Eille
Norwood, Mr. Sydney Valentine, and Mr. H. B.
Irving.

We were always strong in our musical comedy
contributors, and one recalls Mr. George Graves,
Mr. George Robey, Mr. G. P. Huntley, Miss Ethel
Levey, Mr. Arthur Roberts, Miss Ada Reeve, Mr.
Huntley Wright, Miss Shirley Kellog, Mr. George
Grossmith, Miss Gertie Millar, Mr. W. H. Berry,
Miss Ellaline Terris, Mr. Seymour Hicks, Miss
Phyllis Dare, Mr. Arthur Playfair/ Miss Jose
Collins, Mr. Wilkie Bard, Miss Violet Loraine,
Miss Florence Smithson, Mr. Joseph Coyne, Miss
Dorothy Ward, and Miss Edna1 May among many
others.

Mr. Harry Grattan, as clever with his pencil as
with his pen, always drew his story, and did so
very well, while the one and only Swears usually
sent us something funny also.

I mention these names — not by any means all
the famous ones — to give those who never saw
the Christmas Pelican an idea of how remarkable
our lists of authors always were, and it will be
readily believed that from the nature of its con-
tents, the Annual was always a very big success
financially and otherwise.

As I have said, there used to be a good deal of
trouble in digging the stories out of most of my

A FINE INDIAN RAJAH 307

gifted authors, though there were exceptions, and
none was more prompt in sending in, nor more
precise in writing exactly the number of lines he
said he would, than Sir George Alexander. On
the other hand, none was more difficult to land,
than the annual contribution of my dear friend
Herbert Tree, who after pointing out that he was
specially busy and could only manage something
short of say eighteen or twenty lines, usually
sent some thirty or forty pages, and, if you know
anything at all of the polite art of condensing,
you will see how maddening a thing it must have
been, to cut a story of forty pages to something
like a hundred lines, keep in the plot, and the
sense, and simultaneously retain the friendship of
the author as well !

A contribution which would no doubt have
been inertesting if it had appeared, was that
promised me by the late Maharaja of Cooch Behar,
who was, as many of my readers will recall, a dis-
tinguished soldier, a great sportsman, and one of
the " whitest " and most English natives of India
who ever lived. Cooch Behar was thoroughly
British in all his ideas and conversation, and when
you heard him talk as he did without a trace of
native accent, it was always something of a shock
when you looked suddenly at him to find that he
was not really a white man, so far as his skin was
concerned.

Only on one occasion did I ever know Cooch

308 A PELICAN'S TALE

Behar do or say anything out of the common
which specially recalled his native birth, and no
doubt some who read these lines will remember
the occurrence to which I now refer.

The Maharaja, who was very keen about what
the late Maurice Farkoa used to sing of as " Gay
Bohemiah," and the theatrical portion of it in
particular, gave a big supper party in a private
room at what was then the New Lyric Club, and
many of the brightest men and prettiest women
in London were among his guests.

It was during this supper party that one of his
equerries, or secretaries, or someone of the sort,
took rather more champagne than was good for
him, and like Bottom the Weaver had an exposi-
tion of sleep come upon him.

The young Indian was seated opposite me, and
I fear I took considerable joy, in a quiet way, in
seeing his head slowly subside on his plate.

Cooch Behar, seated at the end of the table, was
talking to one of the fairest and most photo-
graphed of our musical-comedy actresses, and was
telling her a story which made her smile con-
siderably, when all of a sudden, his eye fell on his
unhappy retainer.

In a moment the dark complexioned English-
man became a Native. Springing to his feet, he
extended his hand towards the overcome one, and
glaring at him, in truly horrific manner, said
something to him, quite quietly in Hindustani.

A QUICK CHANGE 309

What his words were, I am not aware, but I do
know that they produced a most marvellous
effect on the man addressed, for he crouched down
on the floor, put his hands over his head, as though
to ward off a blow, mumbled words, doubtless of
deep contrition, certainly expressive of the
greatest terror, and then fled from the room. Of
course there was a general pause for a second or
two in the hilarity of the occasion, and this was
broken by the fair one saying, " Tell us what you
said to him." " Oh, nothing much/' replied the
Maharaja, as he sat down again, with a smile,
and was promptly once more an ordinary English
gentleman, "just something that he will re-
member ! "

The changes from the Englishman to the Native,
and then back from the Native to the calm,
smiling, somewhat dark-complexioned English-
man, were extraordinarily sudden and dramatic,
and recalled nothing so much as Richard Mans-
field's quick changes in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

When I founded The Pelican in 1889, I did so
with one main object in view, which was that as
soon as I had saved a certain sum, which I fixed
upon as sufficient for needs and comfort, I would
gracefully retire, and if possible sell the paper.
I had no idea of toiling on till I was an old man,
possessed of neither the inclination nor the ability
to enjoy life in my own way, and as my ideas
were quite modest, and I had not the smallest

3io A PELICAN'S TALE

desire to be very rich, even if I had had the
chance of becoming so, the time came along when
I was fortunately able to do as I had intended.

I meant to get out at the end of 1914, but then
the Great War arrived, and believing there would
be no chance then of finding a purchaser for the
paper, I resolved that I would hold on till that
was over. But Fate was against this, for the
terrible business became a much larger and more
overwhelming matter than had seemed at all
probable at the start.

Gradually all my people in the office, one after
another, went to the Front to do their duty, till
of the staff who were with me at the beginning of
the war, not one single man remained. Even the
good lad who had been my office boy went to
France like the rest, and one would not have had
things otherwise, for of course the only thing
which really mattered was the winning of the war,
and breaking up the Huns who caused it.

It is a difficult thing to replace people who have
been with you for many years, and who under-
stand your business from start to finish, but with
new-comers I carried on as well as I could. Then
in due course these were taken, and so on and on.
The cost of distributing the journal rose to a vast
extent. Wages of all sorts, even when one could
get the right people to earn them, did the same ;
while the difficulties of obtaining paper became a
sort of mad joke. Then my chief partner in the

' THE PELICAN ' 311

concern, my cousin, General H. B. Kirk, died at
the Front.

Up till then The Pelican had never lost financially
at all. On the other hand, profits had gone and
did not look like returning until peace came along,
and as the prime idea of the paper was that of
any other business, to make money for its pro-
prietors, we decided to fold up our tents and
suspend publication until the war troubles were
over. And just then, when I was kicking myself
for not accepting one of several offers I had had
to purchase the paper some little time before the
war started, a bit of great good fortune came along
in the representative of a syndicate, who made us
an offer to take over the business on fair terms,
and these under all the circumstances we gladly
accepted ; and thus at the end of 1917, after the
Christmas Number had been produced, we handed
over the whole thing, lock, stock and barrel to
the new proprietors, very glad indeed to have
got out of matters so comfortably and well, and
to be relieved of all further responsibilities, for,
believe me, there is a great deal of responsibility
and worry in running even a small paper such as
ours was, although there were certainly lots of
fun and interest to be got out of it as well.

I had no cause to regret starting The Pelican
and keeping it going for over twenty-eight years,
and I had little in handing it over to others after
that time. Of course one had a certain amount

312 A PELICAN'S TALE

of sentiment about the matter, but twenty-eight
years is a long time, and I felt I was acting wisely
in taking advantage of the opportunity offered
me.

The paper had been a good and useful friend to
me and others, but there comes a time to most
men and women when they feel they want to be
relieved of business anxieties, and to take things
a good deal more easily than they have hitherto
been doing, and such was the case with me. I
had had enough of the pull-and-push of Fleet
Street, and though I had had lots of good fortune
in it, for which I trust I am properly thankful, as
well as a deal of interest and amusement, I was
quite glad to kiss my hand to " the street of adven-
ture/' and as Miss Letty Lind used to sing in
The Geisha, " Bid it a polite good-day/'

INDEX

Albany, the Duke of, 30
Alexander, Sir George, 293
Archer, Fred, 267
Aria, Mrs., 63
Arnold, Matthew, 24
Avory, Mr. Justice, 80

Bailey, Mr. James A., 233
Barrie, Sir James, 119
Beerbohm, Mr. Max, 293
Beit, Mr. Alfred, 116
Bellwood, Miss Bessie, 85, 125
Benzon, Mr. Ernest, 261
Binstead, Mr. Arthur, 79, 87
Bismarck, Prince, 44, 46
Blackwood, Mr. John, 24
Bland-Sutton, Sir John, 163
Boyd, the Very Rev. A. K. H.,

18,19

Brookfield, Mr. Charles, 71, 95
Browne, Mr. Lennox, 162
Buchanan, Mr. James, 204
Burnand, Sir Frank, 86
Butt, Sir Alfred, 165

Carlton Blyth, Mr., 144
Carson, Sir Edward, 96
Caryll, Mr. Ivan, 201
Cayzer, Sir Charles, 53
Cellier, Mr. Alfred, 193
Chambers' Journal, 24
Chambers, Miss Violet, 24
Chamberlain, Mr. Joseph, 168
Claughton, Bishop, 61
Cochran, Mr. Charles, 248
Coffin, Mr. C. Hayden, 155
Collins, Mr. Arthur, 39
Collins, Miss Jose', 221
Coleman, "Fatty," 139
Corlett, Mr. John, 83
Cooch Behar, the Maharaja, 307
Cooper, Miss Gladys, 188

Danby, Frank, 63
Darrell, Miss Maudi, 107
Davis, James, 61
Davis, Colonel Newnham, 83
Dewar, Sir Thomas, 304
Dickens, Charles, 35
Didcott, H. J., 106
Drummond, Hughie, 138
Dudley- Ward, Mr., 225

Edwardes, Mr. George, 61, 198
Elsie, Miss Lily, 107
Emmett, Mr. George, 35

Faucit, Miss Helen, 24
Fawn, Mr. James, 129
Fenton, Mr. de Wend, 85
Fife, the Duke of, 238
Frankau, Mr. Gilbert, 63
Fripp, Sir Alfred, 163, 288
Frohman, Mr. Charles, 117
Froude, Mr. J. A., 22

Gilbert, Sir W. S., 195
Gilchrist, Miss Connie, 176
Gill, Mr. Charles, K.C., 108
Gladstone, the Right Hon. W.

E., 23, 60

Glover, Mr. James M., 69
Gordon, Lord Esme', 141
Grattan, Mr. Harry, 176, 271
Gretton, Mr. John, 66
' Greenwood, Mr. Frederick, 69

Gribble, Mr. Francis, 69
Grossmith, Mr. George, 126

' Haig, Sir Douglas, 27
j Hall, Mr. Owen, 61
I Hardy, Mr. Dudley, 42
Harkaway, Jack, 35, 36
Harris, Sir Augustus, 245
Harris, Mr. Frank, 69

313

314

A PELICAN'S TALE

Hawkins, Sir Henry, 96
Hawtrey, Mr. Charles, 280
Henderson, Sir David, 27
Hichens, Mr. Robert, 69
Hicks, Mr. Seymour, 284
Higham, Mr. Charles, M.P., 84
Hollingshead, Mr. John, 224
Hope-Johnstone, Major, 140
Howard, Mr. Keble, 174

Irving, Sir Henry, 124

Jameson, Sir L. S, 193
Joel, Mr. Sol B., 266
Joel, Mr. WoolfB., 116
Jones, Mr. Kennedy, M.P., 85

Kemble, Mr. "Beetle," 216
Kingsley, Charles, 25, 26
King Edward, 90
King Carlos of Portugal, 152
Knill, Sir Stuart, 109
Knowles, Mr. Alec, 62

Labouchere, Mr. Henry, 257
Lang, Mr. Andrew, 25
Leamar, Miss Kate, 85
Leopold, Prince, 30
Lennard, Mr. Horace, 87
Leslie, Mrs. Frank, 93
Lewis, Sir George, 70
Liddon, Dr., 24
Lincoln, the Bishop of, 23
Loftus, Miss Cissie, 69
Lohr, Miss Marie, 219
London, the Bishop of, 60
Lyddell, Dean, 24
Lyons, Sir Joseph, 179
Lyn Lynton, Mrs., 24

Manchester, Duke of, 81
Martin, Sir Theodore, 24
Marshall, Captain Robert, 29
Matthews, Sir Charles, 214
May, Miss Edna, 158
McCarthy, Mr. Justin Huntley,

69

Meiklejohn, Major M., 28, 148
Millais, Sir John, 22
Mitchell, Mr. Charles, 55, 58, 72
Moltke, Von, 44
Moore, Mr. Augustus, 62
Moore, Mr. George, 66

Moore, Mr. " Pony,'7 73
Morris, Tom, 21, 30
Muir, Sir John, 53

Norton, " Chippy," 55
North, Colonel, 178
Northcliffe, Lord, 247

Oliphant, Mrs., 22

Paderewski, M., 203
Pallant, Mr. Walter, 86, 187
Palmer, Miss Minnie, 97
Paterson, Dr., 27
Pearson, Sir Arthur, 167
Pegge, Mr. W. M., 65
" Pitcher,'1 79
Playfair, Sir Hugh, 29
Playfair, Mr. Arthur, 29
Punch, 77
Purefoy, Mr. W. B., 187

Queensberry, Lord, 95

Rayner, Colonel Hugh, 146
Reading, Lord, 261
Richardson, Mr. Frank, 206
Roberts. Mr. Arthur, 129, 183
Robertson, Sir J. Forbes- 29
Rochester, Archdeacon of, 60
Romano, Alphonse, 86, 186
Rubens, Mr. Paul, 198
Runciman, James, 69
Russell, Sir Charles, 108

St. Albans, Bishop of, 61
St. David's, Bishop of, 60
Scott, Mr. Clement, 69, 154, 236
Selby, Mr. Jem, 143
"Shifter," 132
Simpson, Sir James, 20
Sims, Mr. George R., 82, 87
Shairp, Principal, 22
Shaw, Mr. Bernard, 69
Shorter, Mr. Clement, 78, 173
Stannard, Mrs. Arthur, 234
Stanton, Father, 109
Stevenson, R. L., 36
Straight, Sir Douglas, 87
Strath more, Lord, 205
Stuart, Sir Simeon, 109
Sullivan, John L., 55, 57
Sullivan, Sir Arthur, 193

INDEX

315

Tait, Captain Freddy, 28

Talbot, Mr. Howard, 201

Tay Bridge Disaster, 40

Tempest, Miss Marie, 220

Thorold, Bishop, 59

Towse, V.C., Captain Ernest, 28

Tulloch, Principal, 22

Tulloch, Rev. W. W., 22

Tweedale, Mrs., 24

The Tichbourne claimant, 99, 101

Tree, Sir Herbert, 287

Walkley, Mr. A. B., 69

Wells, Mr. E. A., 132, 135
Wernher, Sir Julius, 116
Whistler, J. M., 70
Wildrake, Tom, 35
Wilde, Willie, 93
Wilde, Oscar, 93, 95
Williamson, Stephen, 50
Woodville, Mr. Caton, 41
Wordsworth, Bishop, 22, 23
Wyndham, Sir Charles, 124, 217

Yates, Edmund, 91, 253

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