Plays and Players.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XVII, Issue I, 4 July 1896, Page 13

Plays and Players.

ONE of the treats which New Zealand play-goers are looking forward to is a Shakespearean season with Mrs Brown Potter, and Mr Kyrle Bellew. The presentation of *As You Like It ’ at the Melbourne Princess, with the lady as Rosalind and Bellew as Orlando, has been a success, though perhaps not quite the success one might have expected from the

reputation both the actor and actress have acquired in the States. Perhaps the fault may be with the Melbournians. Speaking of Mrs Potter’s Juliet, an American critic said : ‘ There never was a more beautiful creature in human guise than the Juliet at Daly’s Theatre. It is quite impossible to conceive anything more delicious in colouring, more graceful in figure, more splendid in raiment than was Mrs Potter’s Juliet. Leaving aside all criticism of the acting of the part, it was well worth anyone’s time to go to Daly’s simply to gaze at Mrs Potter’s physi-

cal perfections as Juliet. If one had nothing else to do in the world it would be a fine thing just to spend the rest of one’s days in looking at Mrs Potter’s Juliet. Some painter has said, so Mrs Potter’s press agents aver, that in Juliet she is “ a Botticelli painting.” ’ Here is praise indeed ! The Sydney Bulletin, which is only complimentary to Mrs Potter in a qualified sort of way, admits that ‘ she is fascinating, also very much in earnest, and fascinating earnestness strikes the scoffer dumb, otherwise she would soon be up a tree in the Forest of Arden.’ The death last week in London of Sir Augustus Harris removes from the theatrical profession one whose fame

has travelled into all parts of the earth. Sir Augustus Druiolanus, as he was sometimes called in tribute to his wonderful productions at the old theatre, was the prince of English managers. His pantomimes were magnificent affairs, surpassing any other representations of their kinds, for he was brimful of good ideas, and never spared expense so long as he could furnish his public with a first-class entertainment. In early life he was

in business, but eventually drifted on to the stage, and in 1879, at the early age of twenty-seven, became lessee of Drury Lane Theatre. He revived grand opera there in 1887, and at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, in 1888 The honour of knighthood was conferred on him in 1891. In addition to being a most successful manager, Sir Augustus collaborated with Messrs Pettitt, Hamilton, and others in the authorship of ■ The World,’ ‘ Youth,’ * Human Nature,’ ‘ A Run of Luck,’ ‘ Annada,’ ‘A Million of Money,’ ‘The Prodigal’s Daughter,’ and ‘A Life of Pleasure.’ He was born in 1852, and was therefore only forty-four years old at the time of his death.

A message from New York gives an account of an unusual presentation which was made after the first act of ‘ Lohengrin,’ at the Metropolitan Opera House recently, to Madame Nordica Certain lady admirers formed themselves into a committee and collected subscriptions, limited to £2 each, for the purchase of a tiara of 233 diamonds, and valued at over /"i.ooo. The coronet is described as of Adams’ pattern, of the period of the first Empire. There is a band of gold at its base, but the setting of the stones is in platinum, a new device which is said to impart extra brilliancy to the diamonds. There are seventy-five stones in the lowest row, and sixty-six larger diamonds are arranged as a cluster of sprigs and flowers, each sprig tapering off to a large single stone.

One of the quickest and most remarkable bounds into popularity has been that of Yvette Guilbert, the famous French singer. Very few years ago she could hardly keep body and soul together by posing as an artist’s model. She tried the stage, says Hearth and Home, with no better success, and finally made a sudden leap into fortune after appearing in a second-rate Paris music-hall. Her peculiarly original style of singing, or rather chanting, her songs caught on, and now all the world worships at her shrine, and she can command almost any fees she likes to demand.

The times and the manners change. When ‘ Nana ’ was first put on the stage in Paris, the public was dumb at its audacity—noticeably over that scene where the Marquis de Chouard foully attacks Nana. To-day the play is revived, and no one says a word, while thoughtful French critics are pointing out the lengths it is possible to go to now without comment.

The question of hats of ladies in theatres has been decided at Bordeaux in a peaceable manner. The mayor having been desired to use his authority to suppress the wearing of hats, he gallantly answered that he could not undertake any such crusade against the weaker sex. The affair became known in the town, and the ladies of Bordeaux, desiring to testify their gratitude tothemayo r for the delicacy of his action, arrived in the stalls and other seats of the Grand Theatre without head-covering, and now the reform is said to be completely adopted. North New York is to have a theatre and roof garden that will cost /'Bo,ooo. It is to be built on the south side of I42nd-street. There will be an auditorium for the legitimate drama, a music-hall, a cate, a roof garden, lodge rooms, reception rooms, business offices and stores on the ground floor. It will be ready for the public about New Year.

Sir Arthur Sullivan has confessed that he does uot always work with the rapidity ascribed to him. 1 When

the fever is on me and the subject excites my fancy I can turn out four numbers in a day. On the other hand, I have spent a week over a single song, setting it over and over again, until I felt the melody Interpreted the story of the words.’

They had been talking of peculiar wills, when the popular baritone remarked : * I never knew of but one man to leave his voice to another. That was Jimmie Love, who had been a great baritone ballad singer in his day, and was a member of a minstrel troupe when he died. Sher Campbell and William E. Castle, afterward the best of our opera singers, were members of the same troupe. Jimmie Love got sick while travelling out West and knew he would soon die. The members of the troupe had to go on to another town, so they made a formal good-bye call. “ Boys,” said Love, “ I wish I had something to leave you in my will, but, like many another ballad singer, I did not manage to gather much of this world’s goods.” Campbell had been a tenor singer, and had become tired of singing tenor ballads. “ Yes, you have,” he answered the dying minstrel, “ will me your voice.” “ All right, Sher, my voice goes to you,” responded Love. The troupe started on their road, and during the night Love died. The next morning at rehearsal Campbell found that his voice had changed from tenor to a fine baritone, though he did not learn of the death of Love for several hours afterward. Campbell, as every one knows, became one of the great baritones of the stage, and with Castle and Caroline Richings made popular English opera a great success in this country.’ The listeners said nothing.

One of the most curious things in connection with theatres is the number ol employees about them—checktakers, hall-keepers, attendants, and so on —who have never seen a play for above a moment at a time for many years. The writer could mention many cases of old hall-keepers —the * hall-keeper’ is the grim janitor of the stage-door—who have never seen a play at all. For years and years the voices of the actors and actresses and the strains of the band have come to these men in fitful bursts when a swing door has been opened ; they have seen generations of theatrical people pass and repass ; they have seen eager crowds come and go to see the plays produced, and have heard the incidents of the latter perpetually discussed, and yet they know no more of these incidents than they have gathered from the pictorial posters. There is one very well-known attendant in uniform —an old soldier—at a London theatre who has been in attendance every working night when the theatre has been open for twenty-five years, and has never during that period had the opportunity of enjoying one moment of the play.

Mr G. R. Sims calls attention to another illustration of the fact that there is a great religious boom in the show world just at present. A popular actor, it seems, has lately been performing in a sketch at some of the halls as an unbeliever. He declares he does not believe in God. His child is taken ill and lies at death’s door. A clergyman cones in and tells him to pray. He refuses. There is no God, and therefore it is useless to ask God to interfere. But there is a church opposite to his dwelling, and presently the organ is heard, and the choir sing a hymu. The unbeliever’s heart is touched : he falls on his knees and prays. The child rises from its pillow and says, ‘ Daddy, I’m better.’ The clergyman enters and sees the athiest on his knees, and clasps his hand. Both raise their eyes to heaven, and the curtain falls amidst the frantic yells of delight, cat-calls and applause of the gallery—which (Mr Sims, best of authorities, advises us) is always patriotic, always virtuous, and always deeply religious.

Messrs Williamson and Musgrove’s Royal Comic Opera Company are now in Christchurch steadily working their way North. The Melbourne season resulted in a clear profit of Z\j,soo.

The ‘ Scrap of Paper ’ Company (says our Christchurch correspondent) are to be congratulated on their efforts in aid of Herrick’s Home, when I hear the substantial sum of between thirty and forty pounds will be available to hand over. The piece went from beginning to end without a hitch. Mrs Marsh as Helen Hartley, Mr Guise Brittan as Lord Ingram, Mr Alpers as Colonel Goring Blake, Mrs Isaac Gibbs as Mrs Jenkins, the housekeeper, and Tom (MrNicoll) were even better than on their first appearance.

Professor Davis is drawing good houses in Auckland with his fantastiques and clever exposure of spiritualism.