Miss Avonia Jones

While Mr. G. V. Brooke was earning golden opinions from all sorts of people, away from his business headquarters, Melbourne, his affairs were in anything but apple-pie order. I have no doubt his managers, Robert Heir (first) and Henry Edwards and George Fawcett, did their best. But theatrical managers are born, not made, and however brilliant an actor may be, he may, as a businessman, be the veriest duffer that ever donned a stage wig. Other matters may have helped in a degree to bring Mr. Brooke's finances down. While he and Mr. Coppin were in partnership the opposition in city theatres was the old weather-beaten matchbox known as The Princess', which had a very different company, and the ancient Hippodrome in Lonsdale-street, which had a precarious existence in several names, The Lyceum, The Prince of Wales, etc. While the Royal was being run by Coppin and Brooke, the old Olympic— the 'Ironpot'—was kept carefully closed as a theatre, though it was a rent-producing establishment, with the Olympic Hotel on the corner, run by William Pitt, the scenic artist. The Olympic pit was boarded over, and each night (and morning) the light fantastic toe was tripped on the most 'Continental lines.' Cremorne, of course, was only open in the summer months, when the free end easy of Melbourne could enjoy George Coppin's gondola trips with quiet chats in cozy corners, with the girl of your heart, or with the girl who cared little for your heart if you had a soft head and a long purse.

I mentioned previously that when George Coppin separated from Brooke he took with him most members of the old company. With that company and additions, George Coppin rehabilitated the old 'Ironpot,' and commenced a dramatic season. I was there on the opening night, the first I had ever been in the 'Pot.' The play was Falconer's comedy of "Extremes," or "Men of the Day." The cast, a strong one. It is an every-day costume comedy, rich, plebeian
and poverty-stricken aristocrats, the latter with a design upon the vast wealth of the former. A wealthy coal mine owner left his fortune of over a million to two persons, on condition that they married within six months. At the reading of the will the Lancashire cousins were looked down upon by their aristocratic-beggared friends, but the aspect of affairs changed when it was found that the old Lancashire woman, Mrs. Wildbriar, was worth half a million in her own right, while her daughter Jenny had a few thousands of her own, and the clodhopping son, in the red vest, owned to a big pile irrespective of what he expected from his mother. The poverty stricken swell, Sir Lionel Norman, believing that Lucy Vavasour would inherit the dead man's wealth, paid assiduous attention to her, but he discovered the condition of the will, that she should marry Frank Hawthorne, and if each refused the other, the wealth would be devoted to building homes for the orphan children of miners. There was also a condition that if one said 'yes,' and the other said 'no,' the money was to go to the one saying 'yes.' Believing that Frank must accept Lucy Vavasour, Sir Lionel Norman devotes his attention to Miss Jenny Wildbriar, who however, has a beau in the person of Everard Digby, a barrister, to whom she had been introduced under the title of the Marquis of Banterdown, a little device she had seen through. One of the crowd of penniless swells 'makes up' to Mrs. Wildbriar, and a penniless lady with a long pedigree fastens on to Robin Wildbriar. When the six months expire, and the executors of the will assemble the interested parties, after some cogitation, Lucy accepts the condition, while Frank Hawthorne rejects it. A very fine scene follows. Lucy explains that she guessed that Frank meant to refuse, and had she refused the money would be lost. Frank, being a bit of a poet, had composed some verses which, by chance, had fallen into Lucy's hands, and she declares that she will wear the willow all her life if he a second time refused her. In the cast were Richard Younge, Fred. Younge, T. S. Bellair, G. H. Rogers, Russell, Wilson (the scenic artist, who played Robin Wildbriar), Rose Dunn, Fanny Young (sister of Charles), the sisters Allen, a Miss St. Clair, and last, but not by any meant least, Mrs. Bellair, The opening night was that of the day on which Flying Buck won the first Champion Race at Flemington, January 1, 1859. It is fixed in my memory by reason of a doggerel epilogue spoken by Fred. Younge, wherein, he spoke of—
" . . . . . the ruck.
Viewing the heels of Flying Buck."
Soon after, Mr. Coppin produced "World and Stage," in which he appeared himself. Then the usual season followed, with always good results to George Coppin.
*********
It would be somewhat difficult for one not within the ring to get at the actual facts of Brooke's quarrel with Edwards and Fawcett. Ambrose Kyte was up to his neck in it. E. and F. had been borrowing money from, the then supposed millionaire, and Ambrose lent them so much money that they gave him the lease of the theatre as his security. All the soiled linen was publicly washed. The 'Age' newspaper, which accepted the correspondence, fairly revelled in the disclosures. To add to the trouble, the lady we knew as Mrs. Brooke became Mrs. Edwards, and Brooke, much to the scandal of the public, had his name linked with a leading actress whom he afterwards married at Liverpool. Friends interested themselves in Brooke's affairs, mediated with Mr. Coppin, and the pair became friends. Some people said that they were never separated, that it was only one of 'Coppin's dodges ;' but I don't think there was any 'dodge.' George Coppin was too careful a man to create a 'dodge' which should lose him money. The reconciliation was made, however. Mr. Coppin undertook the management of Mr. Brooke's theatre and affairs, and promised to make them straight.
*********
The opening piece under the resumed management of Mr. Coppin was Tobin's comedy of "The Honeymoon," followed by "The Serious Family," a big bill which crowded the house in every part, though the night was stormy and the rain pouring down in torrents. No rain could extinguish the interest felt in the reappearance in the same pieces of the old favorites, Coppin and Brooke, I made a unit in that great audience, and I shall never forget the reception Brooke met with on his entry as Duke Aranga. The demonstration was only equalled when George Coppin appeared as the Mock Duke. Avonia Jones played the parts of Juliana in "The Honeymoon," and Mrs. Ormsby Dalmaine in "The Serious Family." There appeared also, that night, after a long absence, Mrs. Vickery, a sterling actress in such parts as Mrs. Candour and Lady Sowerby Creamly, likewise was she great in the "Roman Mother," and no matter who else was in the company, Mrs Vickery was the Lady Macbeth. The feeling of the audience throughout the evening was displayed more than once when Brooke and Coppin were alone upon the stage.
*************
After "The Honeymoon," Brooke appeared in front of the curtain, and addressing the audience, said that he most heartily thanked them for the recognition manifested by them of the old as sociations of the house, and of his services in their behalf. The old friend who had performed with him that night was, he believed, the only friend he had in the colony; but while congratulating Mr. Coppin and himself on what had taken place, he would allow that gentleman to speak for himself. Brooke broke down more than once during the speech, and was picked up again by the vigorous applause of the audience. Mr. Coppin then came forward, and it was some moments before he could proceed. As soon as the applause subsided he said that it was most deeply gratifying to his feelings to find himself welcomed back as he had been to the boards of that theatre. It really looked like a vote of confidence, a sentiment which was cheered to the echo. When Mr. Brooke took the theatre he had promised to do all in his power to maintain the legitimate drama, and Mr. Brooke had done so. He (Mr. Coppin) Had now, at Mr. Brooke's request, assumed the management of the theatre for six months, during which he hoped, by assiduity and industry, and with the kind assistance of the public, to retrieve his broken fortune (Brooke had made £40,000 in his six years' Australian residence; a tidy sum to make up in six months, George) and to give him a substantial recognition of his talents on his departure for Europe. He could only say that nothing should be wanting on his part to bring about so desirable a result. Before retiring, Mr. Coppin begged to congratulate the public on having a second gas company (strange to say Ambrose Kyte was the promoter of the second gas company, which had the effect of bringing down the price of gas to a reasonable figure). The public would scarcely believe that after the thousands of pounds which the Gas Company had received from the theatre, the company had that night threatened to cut off the supply, unless the amount due — a paltry £43 — were paid instanter. Mr. Coppin humorously said that as he did not usually carry that amount about with him, the gas collector had kindly accepted his personal cheque, and if that had not been forthcoming the theatre would have been in utter darkness. Mr. Coppin then announced that on Saturday night a complimentary benefit would be given to that very promising young actress, Miss Rosa Dunn. On Boxing Night a panto mime would be produced which he hoped would give them every satisfaction: and, finally, he might state that an engagement had been made with Sir William and Lady Don, who would appear in due course. He hoped that, with such elements of novelty and talent, a succession of entertainments would be provided which might justly claim the support of the public, and lead to the successful results he had ventured to anticipate.
**********
In the course of his speech that night Mr. Coppin further said that the reception he had met with that night seemed a vote of confidence on his former management of the Theatre Royal. He had a character for 'dodging,' but he could honestly say and unhesitatingly declare that he had never abused that confidence in his promises as a manager. He had kept faith with the public. He regretted deeply that the satisfaction he felt on these grounds should be counterbalanced by the unfortunate circumstances in which he found the theatre placed at that moment. When he brought Mr. Brooke out from England he volunteered to him a promise that he would not leave him until he had secured for him an independency for the rest of his life, and he had kept his word. Last year (said Mr. Coppin) Mr. Brooke had made choice as his share of their joint business of the Theatre Royal, which was then in a thriving condition, and bringing a rental of £400 a year, or, instead, made him an offer of £20,000, clear of the liability to the amount of £8000 which then existed upon it. Now, by misrepresentation and deceit, to use no harsher terms, for none but such could be used, he thought, if the theatre were being disposed of for a sum so radically below its real value, for, terms which a usurer would blush to look upon, the theatre was passing out of Mr. Brooke's hands, not only so, but he found that Mr Brooke's testimonial, with which he had been presented by the public, his plate, and a portion of his wardrobe were deposited in the pawnshop, and a most usurious rate of interest charged for them, which, not having been paid, the property was forfeited. Mr. Brooke was moreover, indebted to the amount of £4000. Some people, said Mr. Coppin, might ask what was all this to them; but of one thing he felt convinced, and that was that the very large portion of the public would feel deep sympathy for the position in which Mr. Brooke was placed.
***********
In this connection the following, copied into the Sydney 'Empire' of 50 years ago, will be read with interest :— 'An Extensive Theatrical Engagement : Mr. G. V. Brooke and Mr. Coppin.— The American Manager . — Mr. G. V. Brooke has made an engagement with Mr. Coppin, through Mr. J. H. Wilton, to proceed to the colonies and act 200 nights, Mr. Coppin securing to him £10,000, in addition to the expenses of himself and four. Miss Fanny Cathcart accompanies the tragedian. The 200 nights are to be performed in nine months. A contract has also been entered into with Messrs. Fox and Henderson for the construction of an iron theatre, 120ft by 45ft, which will go with Mr. Brooke, costing complete about £5000. Mr. Brooke will sail in the new steamer Pacific.'
***********
Mr. J. B. Steele, who was engaged to support Mr. Brooke on his second visit to Australia, died on Friday, in the Cancer Hospital at Liverpool (N.S.W.). He was buried with Masonic honors on Saturday. Mr. Steele was 72 years of age. In next issue will appear a sketch of the career of the deceased gentlemen.

There died in Melbourne, last week, one who may be termed the mother of the Australian stage, if 90 years of life can give the lady a claim to the title. Mrs. Theodosia Stewart was the widow of Richard Stewart, comedian, who died but last year, and has been a figure in Australian theatres for over two generations. My first recollection of Mrs. Stewart was in the year 1861, if my memory is not playing me a trick, when she came from Sydney to Melbourne with her husband, Richard Stewart, and a small family of three girls and one son. But Mrs. Guerin was even then a veteran on the stage. She had appeared years before at the old Victoria Theatre in Pitt-street, and had a splendid record. Her first husband, I am informed, was a Mr. Stirling—what his occupation was I have at present no knowledge. On his death she married a Mr. Guerin, who, I think, had a seat in the orchestra. I have before me a playbill of the:
ROYAL VICTORIA THEATRE
of August 2, 1851,
'When will be produced a drama of intense interest, entitled 'Therese, or the Orphan of Geneva.' Carwin, Mr. Willis; Fountain, Mr. Griffiths ; Picard, Mr. G. H. Rogers ; Lavigne, Mr. F. Howson ; Therese, Mrs. Guerin ; Bridget, Mrs. Gibbs ; Nannette, Miss A. Hart. Flute solo with variations, Mr. Robert ...hen; ballad, ''A Lovely Youth," Madame Carandini; drum polka, Miss F. Griffiths ; ballad, 'The Keepsake,' Madame Sara Flower ; song, 'Those Odious Diggings.' Mr. John Howson. The whole to conclude with the extravaganza of "The Loves of Lord Bateman and the Fair Sophia.''
That is just 53 years, the lady then being 37. Here is another bill which may be quoted, as the entertainment took place two nights after, and Mrs. Guerin was in the cast :
ROYAL VICTORIA THEATRE.
Under the patronage of the Captain and Officers of the Oriental and Peninsular Steam Navigation Company's steamship Chusan, For the Benefit of Madame Sara Flower, On Monday Evening, August 23. The performance will commence with the Grand Operatic Drama, entitled, "The Female Mascaroni; or, The Fair Brigands." Dance, Miss F. Griffiths. Grand instrumental trio arranged from Meyerbeer’s opera of "Il Clociato" for piano, violin, and violincello. Madame Sara Flower, Mr. A. Moore, and Mr. Frank Howson. Duet : 'As it Fell Upon a Day.' Madame Sara Flower and Mrs. Guerin. To be followed by the interlude, 'Sent to the Tower.' Comic Song : 'Seven Ages,' Mr. G. H. Rogers. Favorite Song, Madame Carandini. The whole to conclude with the farce, "Out on the Loose". Boxes may be secured on application at the Royal Victoria Theatre. Tickets may be obtained of Messrs. Woolcott and Clarke, Lower George-street; and at Madame Sara Flower's residence, Riley-street, South Head-road.

There is much food for reflection in these two playbills. How often have I listened enraptured to the notes of poor Sara Flower, sweetest of singers: or hung on the notes of Carandini. No mention here of the four daughters who afterwards grew in beauty, and became as famous as their mother; and G. H. Rogers, of whom I wrote quite recently in a comic song, 'The Seven Ages.' I heard him in it once. Sara Flower rested in the old Devonshire-strict Cemetery, near Rosalie Durand, and both have been removed to La Perouse; Carindini died not long ago in England, The Howsons went to California; and now the last of a long list, Mrs. Guerin-Stewart, has gone over, at the age of 90 years.

In Melbourne, Mrs. Guerin appeared but at intervals, and then purely in drama, I never heard her sing, excepting in the chorus of witches in 'Macbeth,' while her husband was the Hecate. Lock's music was always given then with Shakespeare's tragedy. Mr. Stewart was always employed, and at a good salary, before he became one of the six who had leased the Royal ('Sportsman,' l3/7/'04). In addition, the family was growing up, and required tuition, which the mother was fully qualified to give. Docy (Theodosia) was the first to face the footlights ; Maggie next, quickly followed by Nellie and Dick, jun., the latter two being Stewarts, the two former Guerins. When Mr. Richard Stewart retired from the stage he was possessed of sufficient means to keep himself and wife comfortable in their old age, but, like Mr. H. R. Harwood, he lost all in the boom days ! At an advanced age Mr. Stewart returned to work ; his occupation being that of treasurer to one of the big theatrical firms. This position he filled until his death, a couple of years ago.

Henry R. Harwood was married thrice, his first wife was a great Melbourne favorite, Miss Mortimer. She made Harwood the actor he was. His second wife was not, I think, upon the stage. On her death he married Mrs. Collins, a widow, but better known to us as Docy Stewart, who survives him. Richard Stewart, junior, married one of the Deorwyns. Though broken in fortune in her great age, Mrs. Guerin-Stewart was lovingly looked after by Dick and the girls. In 1857, in a Sydney directory, 'Mrs. Guerin, actress,' resided at 97 Woolloomooloo-street, right opposite George Commins' Cottage of Content Hotel.

*****

The programme of Madame Sara Flower's benefit is interesting in many particulars The Chusan was the first P. and O. mail boat to enter Sydney Harbor, the first of a long line of splendid steamers. To celebrate the arrival of the steamer a grand ball was given, at which such reverend seigniors as Stuart Alexander Donaldson, James Martin, Charles Nicholson, W. C. Wentworth, and other notabilities acted as stewards. Four hundred applications for tickets had been made and were 'considered' by the stewards. How many were refused we know not, but no doubt the exclusives were exclusive, and made many hearts ache by refusals

******

Apropos Charles Dillon ('Sportsman,' 25/5/'04), a correspondent writes that the Dillons in Sydney in 1863 were a decided success, and that they elevated the drama in this city. They appeared at the old Victoria on April 4, the house then being under the management of Raphael Tolano, the initial piece being 'Louis XI,' a drama first played in Australia by G. V. Brooke, and subsequently made famous by Charles Kean, it being one of that actor's best characters. I think Kean was the original Louis XI. Supporting Dillon at the Vic. was Henry Neil Warner, a grand actor, who never did himself justice. He always reminded me of a great actor in the English provinces, who made periodical appearances in Dublin, his native city, T. C. King. Just here let me interpolate an anecdote. When G. V. Brooke was last in Dublin, he, with J. L. Toole, went to visit T. C. King in Queen's-square. "Everybody thought that King was dying, and he certainly looked as if he had not long to live. "We went into his bedroom"— I am quoting Tco'e— "and I was very much impressed with the sorrowful manner in which they erected each other, their deep, rich voices adding to the solemnity of the occasion. Poor Brooke was much moved at the close. 'Well, my dear Tom,' he said, 'Please Good, you'll soon get better.' 'God bless you, Gus, you're very kind, but we'll never meet again.' Brooke leaned over the bed, and kissed King very tenderly on the forehead, and said, 'Good-bye ' We had a cab at the door. When we got into it Brooke said, 'Poor Tom! I fear he is right. We shall never see the dear fellow again.' Brooke sailed a few days after for Australia, and was drowned at sea." T. C. King lived for many years after. He was alive in 1888, according to J. L. Toole.

* * *

Getting back to Dillon and his sup ports in 1863. Fred Younge, Charles Burford, F. C. Appleton, J. Hall, Sam Howard, Danie's (? which), J. P. West, Jas. Hasker, H. Clifford, and C. W. Barry, the latter a sterling actor of the old school of tragedians. The ladies were — Mrs. Dillon. Mrs. Charles Poole, Mrs. Fred Younge, Mrs. Charles Jones, and some others more or less noted. Charles Dillon had, I admit, a long list of characters in which he shone — 'The Gamester' (to my mind this was Charles Kean's greatest part), 'Wild Oats,' 'Ruy Blas,' 'The Willow Copse,' 'The Wife's Secret,' etc. No doubt in his prime, or when I saw him in Dublin in the early fifties, he was great in these char actors, but he had become stale when I saw him, in 1863, in Australia. An anecdote of John Dunn ('Sportsman,' 20/7/04). The Zavistowski Sisters were playing at Bendigo. The Zavs were a mother and two daughters. In the company at Bendigo was John Dunn, 'Cast-iron Jack,' as he was call ed. A local scribe expressed his dissatisfaction with the Zav trio. and especially with the mother, whom, I think, he accused of having swindled a washerwoman out of her weekly wash bill, or was it Madame who accused the newspaper man of having bilked the laundress? Anyhow, Madame provided herself with a greenhide whip, and, waylaying the ink slinger, laid it lustily about his shoulders. A police court case resulted, Madame being summoned for assault. The court was crowded, of course, and much amusement resulted from the trial. The bench of magistrates considered that an assault had been committed, but under great provocation, and fined the defendant Zav one shilling. Then 'Cast-iron Jack' strutted to the table, and, dumping down a handful of silver, handed melodramatically to the clerk, the required coin.

*****

In the course of this series I have had occasion to make mention of Avonia Jones, who became the wife of the lamented G. V. Brooke, in Liverpool, in 1863 ('Sportsman,' 25/5/04.). In the year 1860 the dead walls and hoardings of Melbourne were plentifully adorned with huge posters, printed by Charlwood and Son, and Shaw, Harnett and Co., announcing that Mrs. Melinda Jones and Avonia Jones, mother and daughter, had arrived, and would appear at an early date. In those times Thespians were not heralded as they are to-day— three or four months before arrival. They just dropped in, as it were, from the, clouds, and did their 'fixings' on arrival. The Jones's had arrived at a period when there was a decided lull in matters theatrical. Prior to the Ladies from the States, we had numerous tragic stars, Mr. and Mrs. James Stark, Mary Provost, G. V. Brooke, Nesbitt M'Cron, Clarence Holt, M'Kean Buchanan, a spluttering actor, , who had one good character, Sir Har- court Courtley ('London Assurance'), ; and Henry Neil Warner. While G. V. Brooke held the Australian stage as the 'greatest tragedian of the age,' no great actor in the higher walks of the drama visited these shores. When Brooke left the colonial stage clear, Barry Sullivan arrived, having as his agent Mr. J. H. Wilton, who came in a similar capacity with G. V. Brooke. Then Mr. and Mrs. Charles Kean appeared upon the scene, Engineered by Mr. George Coppin. Then we had Montgomery Howe, James Anderson, Creswick, etc., so that in 1860, when Mrs. and Miss Jones arrived, they at once filled the public eye— Mrs. Jones physically, Avonia mentally. The mother, a weighty woman, made but one appearance, when she played Romeo to her daughter's Juliet. I cannot say that she conveyed to me an agreeable idea of the love-sick young gentleman of Verona. The latter was corpulent, and displayed wealth of limb which was certainly not practical. Mrs. Jones had filled a leading position on the American stage, and the daughter, who was born in 1836, clung to her for domestic reasons, with a tenacity which was described as 'filial even to piety.' The father of Avonia Jones, the Count Joannes, was a vain eccentric, yet clever author, and actor. Why the wife separated from him and took the daughter with her need not be dealt with now ; suffice it that, in the opinion of her friends, she acted wisely. Miss Jones, it is said, inherited nothing from her father but his good looks and great ability. Her personal gifts were 'tall. well-made, with a lithe form and expressive  features and voice. She seemed born to become a tragedy queen. A classic head, wreathed with hair as dark as a raven's wing, and a complexion that was clear, though colorless, surmounted a figure that regularly responded in every phase of emotion she was called upon to Portray. Such was the enthusiastic eulogy passed upon the lady by a critic of the day, a critic who still lives and occasionally criticises; I cannot enthuse as did this writer, as I have a distinct recollection of certain Americanisms and a touch of nasal twang. Had she lived and studied, Miss Jones would have made a great actress. Her Medea was perhaps her best piece of acting; but later on when playing with Brooke, she made a great Lady Macbeth. Another great hit was in 'As You Like It.' and as Beatrice in 'Much Ado About Nothing,' although on one occasion poor Brooke, as Benedict, was so "overcome" that the performance was sadly marred. Space does not permit of going through her list of characters, but no actress of her age — she was but 32 when she died— had played such a round of characters and played them so well.

*****

In 1861 she went to England with her mother and G. V. Brooke, and appeared at Drury Lane theatre, where she created a marked sensation. In Birmingham Brooke was arrested for debt and had to go through the Bankruptcy Court. On his release he and Miss Jones played at Manchester. At this time they had not been married, and the Manchester "Examiner" thus noticed this performance: "The great and ever interesting tragedy of Macbeth was last night given for the benefit of Miss Jones, who had evidently gained friends among our playgoers during a brief engagement. On this occasion she had procured the services of Mr. Gustavus Brooke, and as this gentleman has not appeared in Manchester for some ten or twelve years there could be no surprise at seeing the house crammed to excess in every part, stalls, boxes, pit, gallery, all equally crowded. Mr. Brooke on his appearance with Banquo on the heath, was received in the most enthusiastic manner, and shared his 'calls' with Miss Jones."

*****

As a truthful chronicler, some not very pleasant facts must be given. Mr. Brooke had a domestic quarrel with the lady whom we all recognised for years in Melbourne as his wife, and the lady left, placing herself under the protection of Mr. Henry Edwards, an old time Sydney actor, well and favorably remembered in the fifties. Mr. Edwards had succeeded Robert Heir as Brooke's manager, and by some means could not make ends meet, hence the quarrel between the two men, in which, possibly, the lady may have had a share of the blame thrust upon her. Mr. Edwards now dead, was in Sydney a few years ago with "Little Lord Fontelroy," He and Mrs. Edwards (Mrs. Brooke that was) kept for many years an hotel at Callao. When Mr. and Mrs, Brooke separated, Avonia Jones brought a good deal of scandal on herself by constantly appearing in the street and elsewhere with the tragedies. It was determined to return to England At that time there was an exodus of actresses and actors from Australia. Miss Jones took a farewell benefit, at which Brooke did not appear. She delivered an address, in which she slated her critics for entrenching upon her private life. One newspaper ungenerously stated the address was written for her by a professional address writer, and that this "beloved parent" was prompting her through the hole in the baize curtain." Mr. Brooke had announced his departure in the ship Suffolk, and as a guarantee that he was at last going, the receipt for the passage money was published in the newspapers. Mrs. and Miss Jones took their passages in the ship The Great Britain, and Brooke went in the same vessel. An army of bailiffs were waiting on Sandridge Pier, to make an arrest. Richard Younge was arrested at the suit of Robert Heir, but promptly settled the claim. (By the way, a very well-informed friend, who knew both gentlemen well, tells me that Richard and Fred Younge were not brothers, a delusion under which I have labored for 55 years.) Miss Jones was arrested at the suit of Mr. R. H. Horne ( "Orion") for £30, the price of a tragedy ordered, but which she refused to accept. Two gentlemen guaranteed to pay any claim Mr. Horne could sustain, and Miss Jones was released. Anxious inquiries were made for Mr. Brooke, but it was not until The Great Britain had sailed that it was assured that the tragedian had got away from our shores. When in Europe and America, Miss Jones kept up a constant correspondence with some Australian friends. In one letter she gave details of the career of Wilkes Booth, the assassin of Abraham Lincoln. Miss Jones knew Booth intimately. He had been her playmate in childhood, and her letter at the time of the tragedy is extremely interesting.

(To be continued.)

In a previous article ('Sportsman, 27/7/'04) I made mention of Avonia Jones' interest in Wilkes Booth, the assassin of Abraham Lincoln. As the letter, written to a friend in Melbourne, immediately after the tragedy, is extremely interesting I venture to give it. The letter is dated from Portland, State of Maine, May 1, 1865. In it Miss Jones says :— 'You have heard ere this that Abraham Lincoln is dead ; killed by one who believed that he was avenging the South ; but you do not know that the hand which struck the blow was that of one of my most intimate friends. I enclose you his portrait, and tell me if you think that such a face is that of an in famous assassin, as he is now branded. I have known John Wilkes Booth since he was four years old. He and his brother Edwin, three years his senior, were my childish playmates, and many happy hours we have spent together. John was over impetuous, enthusiastic and hot headed ; but kind-hearted, generous, and good-tempered. He was two years older than I am, and all three of us, as we grew up, retained a warm interest in each other's welfare, the success of either being a common delight. Edwin and I continued a constant correspondence, and I was mainly instrumental in bringing about his marriage with a dear friend since dead. Having no brother of my own, the Booths became such to me ; and when John and I met again, after a long absence, 10 months ago, the old fraternal relation was immediately resumed. Last winter, when I was performing in Washington, I saw a great deal of him. He played Romeo for my farewell benefit— it was his last performance on the stage, and a splendid piece of acting it was. . . He was intensely enthusiastic in the cause of the South, and told me in confidence that he had sent all his wardrobe to Nassau, and that as soon as the South met with any reverses he should go there, but would make all the money he could first, because the Confederates needed money as well as men. He had not acted for many months, but had been making a large fortune in oil speculations. One day I read him your letter, in which you alluded to Charlotte Corday. I remember now the look that passed over his face, and his wonder that such a woman had not arisen here. The last time I saw him was on the day I came from Baltimore to secure Colonel Nixon's exchange (which Miss Jones had obtained by her personal intercession with Mr. Stanton, the Secretary of War). I ran after him to tell him the good news, at which he was overjoyed. He took me to the cars, kissed me, and bade me good-bye, and I never saw him more. Mother woke me early on the 15th of April with the news that President Lincoln had been assassinated. I simply felt shocked: but when she told me that he had fallen by the hand of John Wilkes Booth, all my thoughts centred in my old playmate and his family. Edwin Booth was playing an engagement at the Boston Theatre, and my first anxiety was on his account. I felt that I must go at once and see him. Mother and sister strenuously opposed it, for they did not want me mixed up in the affair owing to the intensely excited state of public feeling ; but at such a time how could I abstain from proving the genuineness and sincerity of my friendship? I went immediately to Boston, and, oh, how grateful he was ! I found him completely crushed by the blow, for, apart from his horror at John's act, it has ruined his career, which was a most brilliant one. And he seemed greatly troubled about the effect which the news would have upon his mother, who made an idol of John. I wanted to go back to New York, and the proposition was eagerly responded to; but when I reached that city I found that Mrs. Booth had gone on to Philadelphia to her daughter there, so that she might be near when John was captured. ... On the night of the assassination John managed to escape and was not discovered for a fortnight. He had fractured his leg in springing from the private box on to the stage of Ford's Theatre at Washington, rode 30 miles on horseback before the limb was set, and then had to limp on crutches into Virginia, where his friends represented him to be a wounded Marylander on his way home. At last he was tracked near Port Royal, and surrounded in a barn. When called upon to surrender he said that he never would while life remained. He was heavily armed, and as his 'brave' pursuers were afraid to enter and seize him, they set the barn on fire. It set my heart on fire to hear how, after his companion surrendered, he stood with his back against a burning hay-mow, calmly leaning on his crutch, while the flames hissed and crackled round him, determined to sell his life dearly. The roof above gave way, and he involuntarily looked up. At that moment a valiant sergeant fired at and mortally wounded him. He lived about three hours afterwards, and his last message to his mother was, 'Tell her I died for my country.' They brought his body to Washing ton, whither Edwin went to beg for it, but his request was refused. The remains of poor John were sewn up in a blanket — they would not allow even the rough box that had been made for them to be used, and he was buried, as the official announcement says, 'where no mortal eye can ever see him.' "

While admiring Miss Jones' loyalty to the friend of her childhood, one can scarcely sympathise with her in what she calls the cowardly acts of the soldiers pursuing the murderer of the popular President, seeing that Wilkes Booth shot Lincoln in the presence of his wife, and without a moment of warning. The murder may by some be looked upon as political and patriotic, but it was cowardly, nevertheless. However, that's only my opinion.

What memories crowd around Joseph Jefferson. ('Sportsman,' August 10, '04.) It has been said that he was 'discovered' in Melbourne. He arrived in that city, via Sydney, from California, in 1861 with a flourish of trumpets, advance agents, and mammoth posters. He opened in the wooden band-box; known now as the old Princess', in 'Rip Van Winkle,' and made his mark at once. He had not been playing many nights before Spring-street was deemed almost too small for the cab and carriage traffic which invaded the locality. The theatre was crowded in every part, and the playgoer who had not seen 'Rip' and Joe Jefferson was considered as benighted. Supporting Jefferson on his first appear ance were Mr. and Mrs. Robert Heir, Mrs. Alfred Phillips, Mr. J. C. Lambert, Clarence Holt (father of Bland of the same name), Richard Stewart, Fitzgerald, a stalwart Irish-American actor of the melodramatic order, and dear old sour-surly Jimmy Milne. Rip Van Winkle was perhaps Jefferson's character, and memory lingers on the many splendid points in it. His next best character was Asa Trenchard in 'Our American Cousin,' a part of which he was the original performer. Jefferson and Southern— the latter an Englishman—were stock actors at £10 a week each at Laura Keene's theatre in New York in 1857-58, when Tom Taylor wrote 'Our American Cousin' for the manageress. Jefferson was cast for Asa Trenchard a rough Kentucky backwoodsman, a character which Jefferson completely remodelled, and Southern for Lord Dundreary. The latter character was 'so shadowy and vapid,' as one critic styled it, that Southern threw it up, rather than risk what little reputation he had acquired. As this would have entailed his dismissal from the company and a severance of pleasant companionship, 'Jefferson filled in the outlines of the character with a number of oddities of gestures, gait, and gag, so as really to give it a certain amount of prominence, and to render it highly diverting. Thus amended, Southern consented to play it, made it a success, added to it new features from time to time, and when he carries the play with him to London — John Baldwin Buckstone being the Asa Trenchard— Lord Dundreary made a tremendous hit, and the unfortunate actor amassed considerable wealth by his incessant repetition of a part which he had originally rejected."

The late Richard Stewart was the Lord Dundreary of the Melbourne Princess', and right well old Dick played it.

I have seen Jefferson in over 20 of his characters, and could never tire of him. Salem Scudder in the 'Octoroon' (which had been introduced at the Princess' by Madame Duret and Mr. J. H. Le Roy, before Jefferson's advent, George Fawcett Rowe being the Salem Scudder), Solon Shingle, Bob Acres, Dogberry, Bottom the Weaver, Cornet Ollapod, Dr. Pangloss, Newman Noggs, Mazeppa (burlesque), Caleb Plummer ('Cricket on the Hearth'), Mr. Golightly ('Lend Me Five Shillings'), Graves ('Money'), Tobias Shortcut, and some others. 'Midsummer Night's Dream' was the first Shakespearian production Mr. Jefferson attempted, and the company at the Princess', who had been well drilled by G. V. Brooke and William Hoskins in the bard of Avon's plays, were rather sceptical of the American's ability to interpret 'Sweet Will.' They tittered a little, especially the ladies, at rehearsal, but Jefferson, in a quiet way, said, "Ah ! you may laugh, ladies, but you will find that my 'Bottom' will fill the house.'' And his 'Bottom' did fill the house for many nights.

If Jefferson had not been a great actor, he would have been a great painter, as it is, pictures from his brush are much valued. Unlike most of those of whom I have written, Joseph Jefferson is still on top in rural retirement in the United States.

Apropos Barry Sullivan ("Sportsman" 10/8/04), a correspondent, with the best intentions, draws my attention to a couple of omissions in the actor's personal history. I am not so sure that we have anything to do with the private history of Thespians. If we did meddle with such in the first half of the last century I am afraid we would cause much scandal, and perhaps be not always on the side of truth. It is, however, a fact that in his very readable book of reminiscences George Vandenhoff (himself an actor of much merit, and son of the great actor, John Vandenhoff, who died in 1861) makes no mention of Barry Sullivan whatever. Whether the story be one of romance or base desertion I am not prepared to say, but gossip says that Sullivan treated the lady shamefully. Miss Vandenhoff, sister of George, was a leading actress, a very pretty woman and supported her father in all his pieces. The romantic part of the story is that Miss Vandenhoff died broken-hearted, and that the name of Barry Sullivan was tabooed in the family. The story of Miss Kyte is well known in Melbourne, but no one outside the family circle ever quite got the actual facts. Mr. Ambrose Kyte, when lessee of the Theatre Royal, was a man of ample means and of humble origin. I have heard him on a public platform, when seeking a seat in Parliament declare that on his arrival in Port Phillip in 1840, an immigrant from Tipperary, he worked for ten shillings a week and saved four shillings out of it. His first venture was that of keeping a hay and corn store in Bourke-street, opposite the Eastern (or Paddy's) Market, where he afterwards built the row of fine houses and shops known as Kyte's Buildings, , one of which, by the way, was occupied for years by Mrs. Williams' waxworks exhibition— the first of the kind, I think in the Colonies-which were afterwards known as Kreitmayer's, Mrs. Williams having married the professor, though I quite forgot what Kreitmayer did "profess." Mr. Kyte's luck was always in, until close up to his death, when the tide turned. Anyhow he was a great friend of Sullivan's, and without doubt may be considered as a factor in the actor's fortune. Just before Sullivan's departure for England a banquet was given him, at which Ambrose Kyte presided, and at which eulogistic speeches were made. While the banquet was in progress and the speeches were being made, Miss Kyte was silently packing up her trunks preparatory to making a midnight flit. Any how, she left her home, much to the consternation of her friends. Some time elapsed, when it was discovered that the lady had sailed for London, a couple of

days before Barry Sullivan was cheered off from Sandridge Railway Pier. Mr Kyte was very prompt. He despatched his wife to London by the first steamer, and intercepted the lady before any damage was done. Mr. Sullivan's friends asserted that the actor knew nothing of the young lady's escapade, but there had been whispers of an engagement to marry and-well, you know people will talk. The romantic young lady returned with her mother to the paternal roof, and if everything did not end happily as in the story books, well, everything should have ended happily.

To Mr. Ambrose Kyte Australia is mainly indebted for the Burke and Wills' Exploring Expedition, his donation of £1000 being the nucleus of the fund which assisted the expedition on its unlucky journey.

Just to correct a typographical error. When conducting the Theatre Royal Melbourne, Barry Sullivan's right-hand man was his son, Amory Sullivan. At the beginning of his reign Mr. Sullivan would be heard to inquire if anyone had seen his son Amory. Towards the close of his reign Mr. Sullivan never inquired for his "son Amory." It was Mr Amory Sullivan who was always in request and some people did say that Mr. Barry Sullivan was trying to pass off his son Amory as his younger brother! Mr. James Smith alluded to Sullivan's bad temper ("Sportsman," 10/8/'04), but some actors would rouse the temper of the Angel Gabriel. Here is an instance : In 'As You Like It,' at a provincial theatre in an English midland county, Sullivan, of course, was the melancholy Jacques. Touchstone was represented by one of those clowns who disobey Hamlet, and speak more than is set down for them. This particular clown was under the impression that he could improve on Shakespeare. In the wrestling scene, when the wrestler was thrown, he (the clown) had to say, in relation to being out of breathe, "He cannot speak, my Lord !" In order to obtain a cheap laugh this clown said, "He says he cannot speak, my Lord!" which, of course, made the unthinking laugh and the judicious grieve. When the act drop fell Sullivan went over to where the would-be wit and comedian was standing, and said, "Touchstone was a fool, but not a damned fool, as you have made him. You have obtained a laugh, sir, but you have spoilt your part '' Had Mr. William Hoskins been about a simple 'damn' would not have sufficed.

Sullivan had the misfortune on the sixtieth night of the run of Colley Cibbers' adaptation of Richard III., to receive an unlucky sword thrust in the left eye, Mr. Sinclair, the Richmond, having made a mistake in the preconcerted business of the great fight in the final act. For some time the recovery of the sight of the eye was despaired of, but after lying twenty days and nights in utter darkness, Richard was himself again, seemingly all right, at least.

In this engagement at Drury Lane Sullivan performed Macbeth and Richard III on alternate nights during the engagement, the latter with 'new historical scenery' by William Beverley, and 'historically correct costumes' designed by Alfred Maltby from researches among acknowledged authorities.

(To be continued.)

That Shakespearian controversy (in the "Sportsman," May 18, 1904) has awakened long dormant memories, and a pleasant evening recently spent with one, who, like myself, lives chiefly in the past, has served to recall many incidents in connection, with music and the drama not before seen In print.

What old faces we brought back in our gossip! What happy days we revived! The days when John Gordon Griffiths managed the old Victoria Theatre in Pitt-street, numbering in his company such artistes as Sarah Flower, Madame Carandini, Sam Howard (known as "Gypsy”“ and sometimes Tinker" Howard, the former from his appearance, the latter from his trade before taking to the stage), Mrs. Guerin (afterwards Mrs. Richard Stewart, and still with us), the Sisters Howson and their brothers, and many others of equal calibre and fair fame.

John Gordon Griffiths was a Shropshire man, born in August 1810, and shortly after leaving school joined a dramatic company. He became a member of the M’Kay circuit, and subsequently joined Mr. Alexander at Glasgow. It was while with these managers that Mr. Griffiths acquired a knowledge of Lowland Scotch, which made him a success in such parts. After leaving Scotland he played in London, and there met Mr. Joseph Wyatt, of the Victoria Theatre, Sydney, who induced him to come south.

He arrived in 1842, and opened in “Hamlet.” He met with great opposition, mainly, I think, from the friends and admirers of Francis Nesbitt McCron, who was in or near Sydney at the time. Griffiths, however, overcame the trouble, and eventually become manager of the Victoria Theatre, and in 1855 filled the same position at the Prince of Wales Theatre, Castlereagh-street. He retired after a short term, and took up his residence at the Pier Hotel, Manly, where he died on March 4, 1857. Gordon Griffiths was a good man, and a good actor.

The years 1855-56 saw many eminent actors in Sydney, Julia Mathews, Mrs. Charles Poole, Fanny Cathcart (Mrs. Robert Heir, and afterwards Mrs. Geo. Darrell), Lola Montez, Mrs. Charles Young (afterwards Mrs. Hermann Verzin), Mrs. James Stark, Julia Harland (a daughter of the house of Wallack and wife of William Hoskins), Marie Duret, the sisters Gougenheim, etc., etc., G. V. Brooke, George Coppin, Joe Rayner, Robert Heir, Richard Younge, Charles Young (not related), J. P. Hydes, James Stark, William Hoskins, John Dunn (father of Mrs. Marcus Clarke and Mrs. L. L. Lewis, M’Kean Buchanan, Charles Burford, etc., etc. Mr. George Coppin is the only one in this list who, to my knowledge is still amongst us. Strange to say, Mr. Coppin "managed" most of them at one time or other, and “imported” direct not a few of them. Julia Mathews and Lola Montez died in the United States; Charles Poole died in Boston, in the same country; and, presumably, Mr. and Mrs. Stark, Mr. M’Kean Buchanan, and Marie Duret returned to the country from which they hailed, and laid their bones there. Mrs. Charles Young, after a chequered domestic career, died not long since in England, I believe. Julia Harland and Fanny Cathcart lie near Ellen Mostyn, Mrs. Vickery, Marie St. Denis, Hattie Shepherd, John Dunn, G. H. Rogers, and other Thespians in the Melbourne General Cemetery. Poor Bob Heir sleeps his last sleep at the Bluff, having died at sea on his way, with his wife, to fulfil Maoriland engagements. Dick Younge died in England, Charles Young at his residence, the Museum Hotel, William-street Woolloomooloo, next to the Blind Asylum of to day.

I have in front of me an interesting playbill of the good, old-fashioned sort, about three feet in length and one foot wide. It is dated 1859, and was from the printing office of Charlwood and Son, “Herald” passage, Bourke-street East. It is issued for the Theatre Royal, Melbourne, and announces the farewell performances of MR. G. V. BROOKE. The play on this particular night is “Macbeth,” Brooke in the principal part, of course; Richard Younge as Macduff; Ben Tannett, the scenic artist (who, like W. J. Wilson, played occasionally), was the Banquo; dear old Lambert, his wife, and “Old” Downey, with the cracked voice, were the witches; Harwood was Duncan; Bob Lawrence (who married Carrie George) was Malcolm; Fanny Morgan, Donaldbain; and Tilly Earle, Fleance - The Lady Macbeth was Mrs. Vickery, one of the best I have ever seen in the character. Locke’s music was given in full, the Hecate being a Mr. Hancock, who, with his wife, was popular as a singer. Brooke did not go to London then, nor for a couple of years afterwards. When Richard and Fred Younge left Brooke he brought Henry Edwards from Sydney as manager, and Edwards brought Dick Stewart, Wigan, Bill Andrews, and other old Sydneyites. Then George Fawcett Rowe was brought into the management, and in their hands it was said that G. V. Brooke was ruined. Ambrose Kyte was now the supposed owner of the Theatre Royal, and it must be admitted, if he were truthful, that he assisted the treasury with much money. About this time, 1861, Miss Avonia Jones appeared upon the scene, at the Theatre Royal. She was the daughter of an actress (Mrs. Melinda Jones) who had filled a leading position on the American stage; her father was the Count Joannes, "a vain clever and eccentric author and actor, from whom the wife was separated." Avonia inherited nothing from her father but his handsome face; - at least Avonia herself said so. I never saw the father, but Avonia Jones was handsome and attractive, and on her arrival in Melbourne, in 1860, she was but 24 years of age. Here is a description of her, published in 1878, when she had been years dead, by one who knew her well and intimately. “Tall, well-made, with a lithe form and expressive features, and a sweet, powerful and flexible voice, she seemed born to become a tragedy queen. A classic head, wreathed with hair as black as a raven’s wing, eyes equally dark, and a complexion that was clear, though colourless, surmounted a figure that readily responded to every phase of emotion she was called upon to portray.” No wonder that the advent of such a lady at the Theatre Royal, Melbourne, caused some disruption in the Brooke household. The lady whom we knew as Mrs. Brooke joined her fortunes, domestic and otherwise, with Mr. Henry Edwards, and a newspaper war, much scandal and a lot of bitterness were imported into matters theatrical in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and sixty-one, in Melbourne.

Mrs Melinda Jones appeared seldom; she was without doubt “fat, fair and (certainly) forty.” I saw her play once, the character Romeo, her daughter being the Juliet. That was at the old “Princess” Theatre, in Spring-street. When Brooke saw the young lady he fell in love with her right off, and married her, as we then understood. When the quarrel with Edwards and Faucett caused G. V. Brooke to fall back upon George Coppin as his manager, the latter brought Richard Younge and other old supporters back to the old house – in Bourke-street. The nightly speeches by Coppin and the daily letters by Kyte, Faucett, and Edwards were choice, but the Shakespearian and other performances with Brooke and Avonia Jones in the leading characters, will live in memory.

Nothing has been seen before, and I am certain that nothing has been since, to equal them as joint performers. A great exodus of theatrical people, London-wards, took place then, the brothers Younge, Hancock and his wife, Mrs and Miss Jones, G. V. Brooke, and others taking part. Even then there was trouble. Richard Younge had a writ served on him at, I think, the suit of Robert Heir; Miss Jones was threatened with arrest at the suit of R. H. Home (“Orion”) who claimed to have written a drama which the lady declined; Brooke was sought for by the Sheriff’s officers, but could not be found; Younge promptly satisfied the claim against him. Miss Jones gave surety to defend any action which Horne might bring (he never brought one); and the Great Britain was said to have gone without the great tragedian. Wherever he had hidden himself, Mr. Brooke did leave in the Great Britain, and reached London.

It was announced some years afterwards that he had married Avonia Jones on February 28, 1863, at St. Philip’s Church, Liverpool. He led a very erratic life in England, Mrs. Brooke (Miss Jones) having left him for a time, ostensibly as a duty to her mother, but in reality because of her husband’s unhappy fondness for strong drinks. Playing at Belfast, poor Brooke was incapable one night of performing. The audience hissed, and Brooke, in dudgeon, advanced to the footlights, bowed to the audience, stuttered out a farewell, and left that stage, never to return. At Birmingham he was arrested for debt, and to obtain his release had to declare himself bankrupt. At last he picked himself up, and determined, with his only sister, to return to Melbourne under engagement to his old friend George Coppin. He took passage in the S.S. London, which, as all the world knows, foundered in the Bay of Biscay in January 1866, and Brooke and his sister went down in her. Richard Younge had returned to Australia before, and at a dramatic performance in Sydney delivered an address on the death of Brooke when the news reached this city.

I have before me another old playbill, only one of many, time stained, mildewed, and yet revered. It was issued from the Caxton Printing Office, 146 Pitt-street Sydney. Old Sydneyites will remember that it stood between the then Foxlow-place and Brougham-place, known in later days as Moore street and Rowe-street. The building was peculiar, being somewhat of the colonnade type. The printer himself was also peculiar, and E. G. is sadly remembered by some. He did most if not all, the theatrical and sporting printing. He was a jolly good sort; and at Jack Hampton’s Metropolitan Hotel in the garden beneath the trees, enjoyed with his friends the good things of things of this life. But Mr. G. fell on evil days, and Fiji for a time, and subsequently San Francisco, was his home. One cannot help but admire, however inexcusable, the ingenuity with which he engineered his way out of Sydney. He drove a handsome buggy, with a spanking horse, the admiration of Sydney. On the morning of his departure — a Saturday— he went among his friends and raised £30 each from half a dozen— “wages had to be paid,” and other engagements had to be met. To each he sold the horse and buggy, promising delivery in the afternoon. The last friend visited was a reverend father at St. Mary’s, who readily advanced such a prominent citizen as Mr. G. the sum required, and the reverend father became the proprietor of the horse and buggy. His claim was disputed, but he had a receipt and possession. A steamer was off Miller’s Point ready to sail. Mr. R. B. Smith - Bob Smith - the solicitor was on board seeing friends off. He encountered Mr. G., the latter saying that he was seeing some friends off also. He ostensibly got into a waterman’s boat, watched Bob Smith off and returned to the steamer; and sailed with her. The maddest man in Sydney on Monday, when the news of Mr. G.’s elopement was made known, was Robert Burdett Smith! Unlike another very prominent citizen and sporting man, who left about the same time, Mr. G. did not return to the city of the beautiful harbour. The Golden Gate was good enough for him.

This playbill is of the Victoria Theatre In the sixties, when Rachael Tolano was lessee, Mr. and Mrs. Charles Dillon the stars, and “Belphegor the Mountebank” and “The Bonnie Fishwife” the bill of fare. Charles Dillon was announced as the great London tragedian, and was pronounced “a triumphant success.” It was the last week but two of their engagement. In the company was Henry Neil Warner, Fred Younge, C. H. Burford, Sam Howard, Appleton, James Hasker, and some minor men, including Mr. Harlowe, who was a brother of Richard and Frederick Younge, but, being a minor actor and merely a prompter, the brothers insisted on a nom-de-theatre. Amongst the ladies were Mrs. Charles Poole, Mrs. C. Jones, Mrs. M’Gowan and Miss Dickson. In the afterpiece Mrs. Dillon was the Miss Thistledown and Maggie Macfarlane. As the former she sang the old ballad “Ever of Thee,” and in the latter, of course, “Caller Herring.”

I saw Charles Dillon in Dublin in the early fifties as Belphegor, and I saw him in Australia in the sixties in the same character. He had not improved. Australia seldom gets an actor in his prime. I saw J. L. Toole in the Queen’s, Dublin, as Fanfaronade in “Belphegor,” with Dillon, and I saw him in the Royal, Sydney, and I thought it was a cruelty to induce the old gentleman so far away from the scenes where he was tolerated to such places as Sydney and Melbourne, where every playgoer is a critic.

Though Charles Dillon - of course I am speaking of the Charles Dillon of the mid-sixties, not the stage fraud who visited us under the same name years after - played a “round of characters,” he pinned his fame to the melodrama. “Belphegor” not only In Australia but in England, and it was, when the actor was in his prime, a splendid performance. The only man whomever played it in Australia to equal Dillon was to my mind, Clarence Holt, father of Bland Holt.

The Bancrofts, in their published memoirs, pay a high compliment to Dillon in this character. It may be perhaps from the fact that Mrs. Bancroft, when a little lady known only in the West of England as Marie Wilton — and now Lady Bancroft, thank you! — played Henri, that the particular circumstance is mentioned, but the mere mention shows how jealous the “star” of our old days was of any “fat” falling to the stock actor, Dillon objected to the little lady weeping at his pathos, but as she explained that she could not help weeping, he insisted that her weeping attracted public attention from him. Eventually the matter was referred to the manager, who decided that Henri could weep to his (her) heart’s content.

Henry Neil Warner was an especial favourite at Ballarat when that city was golden and could support a theatre and a good company. Warner was a great actor, but, like all good men in his line, had his little failing. When Barry Sullivan first appeared in Melbourne, Warner was engaged to support him, and did so very ungenerously. There was a prejudice against Sullivan at the time, why I know not. Warner was the favourite, and as the curtain fell Warner was called for, Sullivan ignored. One night, the play was “Richelieu,” Warner of course the Nemours. At the conclusion Warner as usual was called for, but Sullivan stepped in front. The decrepitude of the Cardinal had been left off, and Sullivan stood, towering in rage, amidst hisses, hoots and shouts of “Warner,” “Off, off” etc., etc. Sullivan bided his time. When a lull came he stepped forward with, “What do you want? I did not come here to make a name; I brought it with me.” The tone of the audience changed towards him, and after a year or two Barry Sullivan ruled at the Royal, with a double company, composed of the best men and women in Australia. Warner subsequently went to America, and, I believe, died there.

(To be continued.)