THIRTY YEARS ON THE STAGE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 17218, 8 December 1923, Page 10 (Supplement)

THIRTY YEARS ON THE STAGE.

ACTRESS'S REMINISCENCES. 1 In the course of her thirty years on the stage, Miss Jessie ivxiinvard, ttie famous accress, nas nail many adventures, amusing and otnerwise, and nas met many interesting personalities. Iter reminiscences, tnererore, mane lascinating reading. On tne occasion of his first visit to New York, Sir Henry Irving gave a performance of “ Hie Reus ” Two Heorews in the audience discussed the famous actor’s art. “ VNondertul! The most wonderful thing in the world!” one kept repeating i until his friend got tired of his enthusiasm. “Wonderful?” he repeated irritably. “ That ain’t wonderful! Could Iriving buy steel pens at tenpence a gross an*

sell ’em at a bob a dozen? That’s vat I calls wonderful!” Aliss Aiillward’s father, who, as 6he mentions in “ Alyself and Others,” was an actor as well as journalist, once appeared with an amateur company in Bolton before a very small house. One of the company fell foul of the gallery, and in an angry speech declared that, amateurs as they were, they were willing to “ take on the lot of ’em.” Later the stage door-keeper appeared, and announced to the company that the gallery was waiting for them. And it . Once William Terriss, the actor who was murdered at the stage-door of the Adelphi, opened by mistake a letter addressed to Abingdon, a fellow actor. It was a bill from a bootmaker. He was advised to seal it again and leave it, saying nothing about it, and this j he did. Later, Abingdon came into : the room with the letter in his hand, j He opened it, read it, and then, tear- i ing it up carefully, if a trifle melodra- ; matically, remarked, “ Silly little fool 1” “ What’s the matter now?” asked Terriss. j “Nothing—nothing,” was the reply. * “ On 4 y another silly ittle fool of a married woman wants me to take her out to supper 1” And he never understood why Terriss roared with laughter. A certain feminine member of the lighter stage who had married into the ] peerage was invited to meet the (then) Prince of Wales. Her husband, probably knowing her free and easy manners only too well, cautioned her as to her behaviour in the Royal presence—for she was to sit at the Prince’s table. “Above all,” he had said, “whatever you do, don’t rise from the table until the Prince does. Everything seemed to pass off splendidly, and the husband, after the dinner, went to congratulate his wife. “Oh,” said she, “I remembered what you told me and sat tight until he rose. But when he did. 1 couldn’t help saying, ‘ Strike me pink, sir, I : thought you were going to sit there all night!’” i Here is a story to illustrate George Edwarde’s habit**of getting his own way. At a certain rehearsal he called , to him a singer who had just rendered I a song which had little or nothing to do with the piece. “ Capital, dear boy!” he said. “ Now just sing it again, will you?” - i Immensely flattered, the singer did F so. i “ Splendid, dear boy!” came the yer- ■ diet. “ And now, if you don’t mind, ■ ; just speak it.” ? j Slightly wondering, the singer spoke t J the lines. 1 “Now speak it just once more.” I He spoke it just once more. r “ And now cut the riling out!” r The late George R- Sims once told - Aliss Alillward that he was determined ? to have a hand in everv production of » his since. Charles Warner ruined the - success of “ The Last Chance” at the i Adelphi, when, as the starving hero, i he exclaimed despairingly, “ Our last farthing gone! Starvation stares us in the face!” and raised a hand to 1 Heaven —a hand on which glittered a superb diamond ring. ? “ Whv don’t yer pawn yer ring, ' Charlie?” bawled a critical galleryite. It was then that Sims made his resolve.