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Otago Witness, Issue 2181, 19 December 1895, Page 7

THESPIAN MEMORIES & OF MAORILAND.

" Come like shadows, so depart." — Shakespeare. Specially Written for the Otago Witness Christmas Number of 1895 by C. F. S,

fO crystallise the reminiscences of 30 years of the theatrical history of New Zealand is a more difficult undertaking than at the first sight it would appear. Not, as some of the readers of this paper might not unreasonably imagine, from paucity of material, the colony really possessing very little of historic past rich in memorials of illustrious Thespians — no Kembles, Keans, Macreadys, or Brookes, with the record of their triumphs and brilliant achievements — but when with pen in hand I plunged into my task, I was not long in realising that the real difficulty which confronted me was the embarras de ridiesse. As my memory explored the past, incident after incident marshalled itself, each claimirg ] riority, until I wtsfain to take them impartially as they came, observing only the rigid rule of chronological precedence. The dramatic era in Maoriland commenced incidentally, lut not f-imultaneouf-ly. at its northern and southern extremity — Auckland and Duredin — and gravitated centrally, Wellington and Chribtchiuch each having their halcyon periods before the local instituticn was extinguished by the great star travelling Australian combinations. Between 1850 and '60 the principal theatre in Auckland was a dingy little den, teimed by courtesy the "Royal," situated in Queen stieet, and run in succession by various managers, notably by the fathir of Maggie Knight,' -who, as yeais went by — Maggie, net her sire — became a prime favourite in all the colonies, having in the interim undergone a cemj reheiisive novitiate in the ggar} r city of San Franc iscc. Theie was nothing very noteworthy in the eaily theatrical hist( ry of the northern capital, its liveliest period being dui'ing the Maori war, when the military concentration and ccnccmitant expenditure of money furnished a rich harvest for the managers. There was then a second theatre, that snuffed out the little Royal — this temple of the drama was built over an auction mart, also in Queen street — but its prosperity dated from the outbreak of the Thames goldfields. Curiously, it was the discovery of the Otago gold mines that transfoimed the orthodox "unco quid" Presbyteiian capital of the south into a ramping and, as its rigid foundeis averred, -'hellicat" vortex of " ineequity," of which the theatie was the outcome and the symbol. The first management to exploit this profitable gold mine (theatrical) were the Fawcetts — George, Tom, and fcrandy. All three have long since played their last pai t on life's stage, but they were great favourites, especially the elder brother, George, who, when the memor}' of New Zealand must almost have faded from his recollection, was a more than ordinary star actor and playwright in London and New York. Few who ever saw him personate the illustrious Mica-vsber will forget it and his play. The " Geneva Cross " will long keep alive the reputation of the writer. The first performances took place in the salevaul of the Provincial Hotel, the temporary structure for the purpose being flanked by the stalls of the horses. The audiences were of the most heterogeneous description, the city being crowded with the continually arriving steamer loads of stalwait diggers from Melbourne, supplemented by their lucky breihren ot the " pick and shovel " returning with the spoils of the DunStan and Shotover. Of course this could not last lor ever, but old Shadrach Jones and Count and Bird, who had succeeded to the Provincial, the managers and the professionals reaped a

splendid harvest, the latter distributing their golden increment with their usual prodigality. Of course the makeshift theatre was soon replaced by the present structure, which has been the scene of many histrionic triumphs. Old playgoers will remember the names of Dick Roberts, Harry Richardson, and Charley Herberte, to say nothing of Bob Dale, Dolly Green, and Julia Matthews. Of these only two remain — Dolly is now Dolores Drunimond, of the London theatres, and when I last heard of Herberte he was playing at the Grand Theatre, Islington (London), under the management of Charles Wilmot, another old Dunedin favourite. A curious incident occurred about the year 1867, which to one of the parties led to a notable result. The scene was the theatre, Avhere Mies Eloise Juno was perfoiming a round of characters. On this occasion the play was the famous old Adelphi drama " The Flowers of the Forest," in which Miss Juno was sustaining the character of Cynthia, the Gipsy Queen, one of the renowed Madame Celeste's finest impersonations, and ■who, as far as anyone in the theatre kr.ew, was at that momerit thousands of miles away in London. Imagine the consternation of the Cynthia of the night when a "whisper went lound the house that the striking picturesque-looking lady with the keen aquiline face and brilliant eyes who was applauding vehemently from the drees box, was no other than the great Adelphi "star," who, on her way from 'Frisco to Melbourne by the Californian mail, which made Duuedin a port of call, had taken advantage of that fact to lard for a few hours, and seeing "The Floweis of the Forest" billed for perfniruance that night, popped in to see her antipodean rival. Ihe chance circumstance led to the subsequent meeting of the two artistes in Melbourne, when Miss Juno was engaged by the management of the Theatre Royal to support Madame Celeste in all the secondary characters in her plays — a great compliment, and "vs ell deserved by the recipient, and which led her on the tide of prosperity to a lasting and honourable position. Lady Don was a great favourite in Dunedin, her stage manager being that eccentric " droll " John Dunn, the record of whose pranks alone the space at my disposal would be insufficient to fill. 'J he following incident is thoroughly characteristic of his audacious wit. ] must mention that John had an extensive theatrical library, which included ajjetite comedy freely adapted from its French original, and entitled " Pere et Fils " (Father and Son). On her Ladyship asking if he had in his collection such a book, she was met with the prompt but somewhat irreverent reply, " Oui, vniladi, et Saint Esjirit." As Hamlet says, " 1 he rest was silence."' John, with his Falstaffian face and the undeitakerlike daily "get up" of funereal black pants, swallowtail, and cleiical white choker, has long since joined the great majority, but his " quips ar.d cranks" live after him. In this brief chronicle it is impossible to pa.ss over the oldtime favourite, Clarance Holt (father of the popular Bland), and his fidus acJuites, " Little Joe," otherwise Junhis Ma.nv.tius Wolfe, whose mission in life was to play Mazeppa whenever he could get the chance. In their lelaticns to each other they were a strange couple. Privately, '• Little Joe " worshipped his partner Clarance, and professionally religiously imitated him, and not unsuccessfully. In turn Mr Holt had modelled Ms style, at least so it was alleged by those who had seen both artists, on the lines of the famous melodramatic English actor

Charles Dillon, who in turn was credited with the formation of Ms style by close observation of the methods of the great French comedian, Frederic Lemaitre. Now they all four played Belphegor the Mountebank. The last-mentioned of the quartet was the only one who had not visited the colonies. Now mark the stupendous consequences. Wolfe played the part of Belphegor first on Holt's lines, so that when the lastmentioned gentleman in turn essayed the role his success was discounted by the public averring that he imitated his predecessor. Similarly, when Dillon attempted it he was set down as a plagiarist of the redoubtable Clarance, and considerably to his indignation. Fortunately the Frenchman stopped at home. Poor little Joe is long since dead, but Clarance Holt, in a good old age, is still a popular member of the profession in the old country, and not very long since played in London in "Robbery Unr'er Arms" with Dampier and Herbert Flemming. It was about this theatrical epoch in Dunedin that Julia Matthews — who it may not be generally known, a year or so later created the role of the Grand Duchets in Offenbach's famous opera at Covent Garden Theatre, London — in the metaphorical language of the " earnest, but casuistic 3 r oung prohibitionist" "did a get*' fi om her sorrowing parental guardian, to whom for years she had been a veritable artistic Pactolus, and became, for weal or woe, Mrs Mumford. The marriage, imprudently contracted, did not turn out a happy one, eventuating in a separation. After a few brief years of comic operatic supremacy in Great Britain, the pet of two hemispheres died in compai'ative obscurity in America. Space, however, will not permit me to linger too long in the southern Athens, although I have far from exhausted the material it affords me for my sketch ; but before taking wing for the north, I must devote a small portion of it to recording an incident or two in a brief season I had in Invercargill, in conjunction with Miss Juno and Dick Roberts, under Manager Putelkow. This theatrical potentate was a Norwegian, and owned the local theatre, to which was coupled, as was usual in those days, an hotel. He had three ruling passions, to which all others were subordinated — one of which was an unbounded devotion to his " better half," into which entered a large element of jealousy, especially of professionals, particularly if good looking (in that respect I reposed serenely, but Dick, to whom Nature had been bountiful in the matter of personal advantages, never felt quite safe, as manager P. had a summary and efficacious way of nipping nascent nirtatior sin the bud). One object of his distrust he dispesed of with one "from the shoulder," which, coming with the force of a catapult, lifted him off the ground and pilloried him by the neck in a panel of the bar door, from which uncomfortable position he had to be sawn out ! P. graphically described the athletic feat in four expressive words, "/ gif Mm yon!" — certainly he did not hanker after another. Mr Putelkow's second hobby was like Peter the Great's, the building of ships, which, unlike Miss Harraden's, did not " pass in the night." Many a belated teamster and cattle drover, for the first time becoming acquainted, in the gloaming or early morning, with this fact, pathetically, not to say blasphemously, regretted it as his bovine charges got mixed up in the skeleton " ways "of the future " riders of the surges." His third craze was for acting, his inclinations tending to tragedy, to which his short, squat figure — being only about sft 6in high, Dutch built,

with an abnormal breadth of beam — did not felicitously lend itself.

At last, on some festive occasion — I think it was the anniversary of our eccentric manager's wedding day — his great •chance came. After grave cogitation in committee, of which Miss Juno, .Roberts, and myself were ex-officio members, it was unanimously decided that our inipressario should make his first appearance on the boards of his own theatre in the character of 131ack-eyed Susan — not the burlesque, which was not then written, but the persecuted heroine of Douglas Jen-old's famous nautical drama, whose virtue was ber only dowry. As might have been expected, a tremendous audience assembled on the eventful night. As material to the completion of the cast, Miss Juno undertook the role of William ; Roberts, Dolly Mayflower ; and the writer Doggrass, the flinty-hearted landlord ; but, of course, Susan

■was the feature of the night. Miss Juno made him up, and, assisted by Mrs Putelkow, designed his costume, which was that of a giddy schoolgirl of the period got up for an evening party. Cut low in the body, with bare arms and shoulder straps, and bows such as are put round the arms of vaccinated babies, the frock, which was of pink tulle, came down to the ankles. Jlis feet were daintily encased in dancing pumps with sandals, and his ample waist was encompassed by a blue sash with an enormous bow behind. In a flaxen ringlet wig, with an enormous red rose coquettishly conspicuous, Susan, on her entrance, simply sent the house into convulsions, and for fully five minutes not a word of the dialogue could be heard for the laughter and applause. The acting was in keeping, Mr P. rising to the occasion ; but the great hit of the evening was when J)oggrass demanded " who would prevent him forcibly entering the dame's bedroom to claim her arrears of rent." Susan, striking his " I git* hira yon " attitude, thundered 'By shinks ! 7 vill, if Ilimmel do give to me de strength,"' capping it by the immediate tender of a •' sheck" on the Bank of New Zealand in settlement of all claims. But I must hurry on, and quitting Invercargill and its eccentric manager, travel northward.

Some years elapsed before I came south again, and then it was overland, prior to the opening of the trunk railway line from Christchurch to the Bluff. All the rivers had to be forded, and a very perilous trip it was, as, being in Hood, the Kakaia and JRangitata especially were sensational experiences not easily forgotten, particularly by the ladies of the company, who, at the sight of the rushing, tumbling water all around us through which we had to pass, piloted by two mounted guides, subsided by general agreement into a state of what I may term comatose hysteria, or hysterical coma, until the river was safely crossed.

Although in the past Wellington was a good theatrical town, especially when it became the seat of Government, it was not fertile in incidents likely to interest the readers of these random recollections, but at least there was one funny circumstance that will bear narration. As sometimes occurs in the present day, so in the days of yore — companies occasionally came to grief, and experienced a difficulty in getting back to their Australian homes. On one such occasion a famous " oldtime " acrobat was wanted by the proprietor of the hall in which he had been performing for the rent thereof, payment of which he was endeavouring to evade by a trip to Melbourne. Monsieur Bartine had taken a passage in the mail steamer about to depart, and the fact becoming known to the irate hall proprietor, he took out a warrant ne e.reat, and despatched a bailiff with it in a waterman's boat to attach the body of the levanting " pro." Unfortunately for the chance of the officer of the law, a friend of Bartine, who was on board, and aware of the circumstances under which the latter was leaving, recognised the " bum " and pointed him out to his intended victim, who, seeing his approaching danger, sprang up the shrouds and, with the agility furnished by his professional training, was in a few seconds out of the reach of the bailiff, who had just boarded

the steamer, and was interviewing the captain with the view of invoking his assistance. Of course the latter declined to interfere, preferring to let the legal functionary do his own dirty work. It was awfully tantalising to see his prey "so near and yet so far," and as the minutes were few before the

steamer's time of starting, there was no alternative but to go up the rigging after him — and then the fun began, to the evident enjoyment of the crew and the rest of the passengers, whose ironical plaudits stimulated the unhappy bailiff to a pitch of frenzy as he endeavoured to reach his quarry, who skipped away with the ease and agility of a monkey.

It was only on the ringing of the second bell and an experimental revolution of the screw that the bailiff realised the futility of the contract he had taken, and scrambled back into his boat just in time to escape an involuntary voyage to Australia. Bartine's subsequent career was a unique one, and is worth writing, but I must forego the temptation, as it does not belong to JN T ew Zealand.

When I returned to Auckland a few years had made a great difference in matters theatrical as well as social. Many things had contributed to this — the abolition of the provincial system of government, the termination of the native war, and the withdrawal of the Imperial troops. The transference also of the seat of government to the Empire City had its share in discounting the advantages formerly enjoyed by the citizens of Auckland, but the metropolitan cities of the southern half of the colony profited in the inverse ratio — in fact, owing to its many improvements, Auckland was almost unrecognisable, amongst them being the levelling of the bold mount on which had stood Fort Britomart, as well as the rebuilding of Queen street, which had been burnt in detail by incendiary fires.

These averaged 'about one a month, the perpetrators rarely being discovered, much less convicted, and it was considered almost an impossibility to get a conviction from a Queon street jury of that day. 111-natured people sarcastically remarked that the disinclination to bring in a verdict of guilty arose from

the fact that there was no knowing " whose turn might come next." And it was surely but elementary wisdom to make friends with the mammon of unrighteousness — in other words, the alleged arsonist in esse might, by the whirligig of time, become a juryman in posse.

It still boasted three theatres, although the old Uoyal existed but in name ; the Prince of Wales, built over Tonks's Auction Mart, was still occasionally tenanted ; but the fashionable temple of the drama was the new Theatre iioyal. This, now called the City IT all, was built on the site of the old market at a cost of .£16,000, but 12 months later was knocked down at auction for little more than half that amount. This building was opened by Martin Simonsen, of operatic celebrity, but was, after a few years' chequered fortunes, superseded by Abbott's Opera House, which is now the only recognised place of theatrical amusement. Amongst the last stars who appeared in Auckland before the building of the Opera House were Charles Wheatleigh, Madame Marie Duret, Alice May, Maker, and Furrow, and last, though not least, poor Jlattie Shepparde, by whose early death a bright career of uncommon promise was untimely cut short. Anecdotes could be told of many of these artists, but are hardly warranted by their ephemeral careers, and differ little from the bizarre contretemps which are continually occurring in professional life. • • *