Mr Francis Nesbitt

On September 7, 1836, was laid the foundation stone of the Victoria Theatre, Pitt-street, with full Masonic honours. It took over 18 months to make the building ready for the public, and to make the opening night a success, Mr. Wyatt, the proprietor, engaged a company specially for the occasion. In those far off days quick passages to England were unheard of, and the 'cable' was not. Mr.Wyatt did the next best thing in the circumstances, he went to Hobart Town, Van Diemen's Land, so known then, and engaged as good performers as could be obtained and the theatre there could spare.

'The Sydney Herald' in 1838 appeared but twice a week, Mondays and Thursdays. The proprietor, Mr. Ward Stephens, of Gloucester-street and Lower George-street, Sydney, paid but little heed to the theatrical events of the town, though Mr. Wyatt advertised freely with him. In the issue of Monday, 26th, March 1838, appeared this advertisement :-

Royal Victoria Theatre.

The Public is now respectfully informed that, the above theatre will reopen for the reception of the public this Evening, 26th March 1838, when will be produced for the first time Shakespeare's Tragedy in five acts,

OTHELLO.

The Duke of Venice. Mr. Collins; Ludovico, Mr. Morton; Brabantio, Mr. Lane; Roderigo, Mr. Simes; Cassio, Mr. Groves Montana. Mr. Falchon; Othello, Mr. Arabin (from the Hobart Town Theatre); Iago, Mr. Spencer; Gratiano, Mr. Allwood; Antonio, Mr. Hollis. Julia, Mr. bnuth ; Daulo, Mr. Gazes ; Marco, Mr.Powell; Giovanni, Mr. Balton; Desdemona, Miss Winstanley ; Emilia, Mrs. Arabin.

As an interlude, Mr. Falchon, 'from the Hobart Town Theatre,' sang the popular song, 'Paddy's Wedding.' '

The evening entertainment concluded with the laughable farce.

'The Middy Ashore,' or 'A Spree Upon Land.'

The doors were open at half-past 6, and the performance commenced at 7 punctually. The prices of admission were dress boxes (or circle) 5s, upper boxes 4s, pit 2s, gallery 1s. The old world custom of half-price at 9 o'clock, never heard of now, existed then, the pit being the only exception. Boxes could be secured for the night or for the season, to be taken at the box-office from 9 to 11 each day. To prevent disappointment, no box would be kept unless the admission fee was paid at the time of selection. The plan of the dress circle was always on view at the box-office. Children in arms were not admitted, not even at the old country fee of one guinea each. Mr. Joseph Wyatt signed the advertisements as proprietor, and wound up loyally with VIVAT REGINA.

It must be admitted that Mr. Wyatt's company was a generally useful one, Mr. Arabin 'starred' in bills and advertisements, and Miss Winstanley ditto, ditto, not objecting to appear in such a farce as 'The Middy Ashore.' Mr. Wyatt took care to expand the list of characters in 'Othello' in a way that the Divine William never dreamt of. I am under the impression that, in the present day, if 'Othello' were produced in anything like good form, that an Irish comic song would not be tolerated immediately after it. 'Paddy's Wedding,' however, brings back reminiscences of John Drew and Billy O'Neill, who first, I think, introduced the rollicking song to the Melbourne public. The Mr. Morton who played Ludovico was a near relative— brother, I believe— of Mr. Maddison Morton, the dramatic author. On Mr. Morton's decease his widow kept for a time a tobacconist's shop in Market street, combining the business with newsagency and bookselling. The shop was No. 72, within two doors of Pitt-street, and now built over by Farmer and Co. The lady was there in 1878.

Commenting on the performance of Shakespeare's grand tragedy, the first time, I think, of its production in Australia (Arabin may have played the part in Van Diemen's Land), the 'Herald' critic gave the star credit for a 'chaste conception of the character,' his great fault being that he delivered all soliloquies to the audience, a fault not confined to Mr. Arabin, as most of the old time tragedians always took the audience 'into their confidence,' Mr. Spencer "played that pretty rascal lago well but confided all his villainy to the audience," the critic no doubt thinking that Spencer should have kept his villainy well bottled up until the closing scene. I have seen many Iagos, but never yet saw one who could conceal his villainy. Though excellent in comedy, Miss Winstanley and Mrs. Arabin were counted rank failures in tragedy. The critic considered that Mr. Groves misconceived the character of Cassio, and as to the farce, Mrs. Murray, "a petite little lady with a shrill voice, was animated and likely to become a favourite." Strange to say, the critic admitted that he had forgotten the name of the man who sang the comic song, 'but it served to amuse.' The 'Herald's' critic did for the opening night of the Victoria Theatre what John Baldwin Buckstone once said that a critic did for one of his dramas, "Damned it with faint praise."

Mr. Wyatt, anxious to please his patrons, added to his company. He had a monopoly now. After Mr. Barnet Levey's death, the widow continued to direct the Theatre Royal, but the strain appears to have broken her health, as in the issue of the 'Herald' which announces the opening of the Victoria Theatre, she advertises her thanks to those who sympathised with her in her trouble, and attributes her illness to the cares and worries of theatrical management. She was not the first nor the last who suffered worries from theatrical management. Added to Mr. Wyatt's company at the. time were Mr. and Miss Lazar, Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, and Mrs.Clarke.

At one time the name Lazar was a household word In Australian theatricals. Some years ago a son of this old-time actor had the lease of the Theatre Royal, Castlereagh-street. Mr. John Henry Want, now K.C., then a pushing junior barrister and a patron of all legitimate sport, in which may be included the drama, had business relations with Mr. Samuel Lazar. On occasions the 'treasury' required assistance to enable the 'ghost' to walk with comfort, and on such occasions Mr. Want generously came to Mr. Lazar's aid— I think at one time Lazar's indebtedness to Mr. Want amounted to £600, good coin of the realm advanced to keep the theatre going. As some sort of security, Mr. Lazar gave Mr. Want control of the O.P. box for his private use and that of his friends. While Mr. Lazar was in active management Mr. Want and his friends enjoyed the occupation of the O.P. box without let or hindrance. But evil days fell upon Mr. Lazar; he lost his reason, and was confined until his death in one of the asylums. His interest was still maintained in the theatre; his daughter, Miss Victoria Lazar, afterwards Mrs. Moss succeeded to her father's interest in the lease. But the lady questioned Mr Want’s rights and felt disposed to dispute his possession of the O. P. box. Unfortunately for Mr Want, all the documents and memoranda in connection with his transactions with Mr. Sam Lazar were destroyed in a fire which took place on his premises. Mrs. Moss, however, temporised (I am writing entirely from memory), and agreed that Mr. Want should have the box alternate nights, Mrs. Moss and her friends occupying it for the other three. For peace sake, I presume, Mr. Want agreed to this, and for a time things went on amicably enough. But Mrs. Moss tired of the arrangement, and blocked Mr. Want's entry altogether. Then Mr. J. H. Want went to law. He invoked the aid of the Chief Judge in Equity. The matter, like most Chancery matters, dragged its slow length along for many months, if not years. Then Mr. Justice Owen gave his verdict against Mr. Want. The latter was not satisfied; he appealed to the Full Court and again was beaten. But he was not faint-hearted. He had helped Sam Lazar with good coin, and if he could not recover that he would at least have the 'compensation' that Lazar in his time had allowed him the use of the O.P. box. Mr Want appealed to the Privy Council, and, fate of fates, while the appeal was under way, another 'authority' stepped in and ended the proceedings. In 1892 the 'fire fiend' seized the Theatre Royal, and ended not only Jack Want's long-drawn-out suit, but also Miss Victoria Lazar's (Mrs. Moss) interest in the lease. As fire had destroyed the theatre, there was no theatre to lease! The costs, which all fell on Mr. Want, must have been simply enormous. In the last moments of the Theatre Royal Mr. George Musgrove was manager, with Mr. C. L. Goodman as treasurer, Sam Lazar's representative being the lessee.

The management of the Victoria Theatre, as was absolutely necessary, varied its programme to suit its patron’s tragedy, melodrama, comedy, and farce, with good, bad, and indifferent actors, until the beginning of the year 1841, when a new actor of some old country note struck Sydney. This was none other than FRANCIS NESBITT M'CRON, a name yet remembered by some ancient Playgoers. Not many, however, remember him, but those who do remember Nesbitt— his stage name— place him next to G. V. Brooke. My dead friend, Sam Banks, a personal friend and devoted admirer of Mr. Nesbitt's, placed me in possession of much relating to the private history of the actor. M'Cron was a native of Manchester (England), born in 1809. His mother was named Armstrong, his father a captain in the army. Nesbitt M'Cron was educated for the medical profession, but his taste for amateur theatricals led him to the stage. He stood 5ft 10in in height, very erect in gait, and walked as if on parade. His voice was powerful and melodious. My thirty-years' friend, John Bennett, whose life-long experience of actors ought to make him a judge, says that Nesbitt's voice was the most musical that he ever heard.

M'Cron 's resolution to adopt the stage as a profession was distasteful to his family, but he had made his choice and was determined on following it. Under his second name, Nesbitt, he became a member of a travelling company in Ireland, in the course of which he met G.V. Brooke and Barry Sullivan. Of both these great actors Nesbitt spoke in the warmest terms of friendship and affection. After touring England, Nesbitt struck Scotland, where he met Gordon Griffiths, who subsequently came to Sydney. From Glasgow, in 1840, Nesbitt returned to Ireland, at the request of his relatives, who still thought to wean him from the stage. During a visit to Cork he met Miss Annie Mills, the daughter of respectable parents, and wooed her, but the parents objected, not to the man, but to his profession. Failing their consent, Nesbitt eloped with the lady and married her. In 1840 the couple took passages in the ship Marchioness of Bute, and arrived in Sydney on January 7, 1841. Nesbitt brought letters of introduction to several big people. Governor Gipps being among the number. That to the Governor was never delivered; the others secured him a billet as tidewaiter in the Customs, Henry Parkes occupying a similar billet about the same time. A quarrel with a superior officer induced him to throw up the appointment. In checking cargo Nesbitt wished to sit, the superior officer ordered him to stand, and Mr. Nesbitt 'cut and run.' Failing to get other employment, Nesbitt joined the police force, and for a part of one night walked 'a beat' in Sydney streets. He resigned in the morning.

At that time Mr. Joseph Simmons was manager of the Victoria Theatre, and to him went Mr. Nesbitt. As the latter had been brought up in the south of Ireland he had just “the last taste of the brogue” on his tongue, but could, when he pleased, lay, aside the 'accent.' While conversing with Mr. Simmons, Nesbitt unconsciously used the brogue, which set Mr. Simmons, a Hebrew with a "lisp," in roaring laughter. The idea of playing Hamlet with an Irish brogue tickled the fancy of the Hebrew manager. Mr. Nesbitt, however, gave 'Rolla's address to the Peruvians' in a style and in an accent never before heard by Mr. Simmons. There was no trace of brogue, and the Hebrew, who could tell a good thing when he saw it, immediately closed with the new actor, who had dropped unheralded amongst them. The play of 'Pizzaro' was in rehearsal, Mr. Simmons being the Rolla, but he generously gave up the part to Nesbitt. There was but a peer attendance, but by the time half price had arrived the people in the street heard that a genius was playing at the Vic., and the house became crowded. Nesbitt next appeared as Richard III, crowding the house for fourteen nights, an unprecedented run for Shakespeare at such a time, and a distinct tribute to the great merits of the actor. His list of characters during this engagement consisted of William Tell, Rolla, Othello, Macbeth, Richard III, Sir Giles Overreach, Octavian, Sir Edward Mortimer, and Virginius. As indicating Mr. Nesbitt's real character, it may be mentioned that when he accepted the engagement with Simmons, Mr. Conrad Knowles, who had left the pulpit for the staged held such parts as Hotspur, Mercutio, Hamlet, The Stranger, Falconbridge, and such. These Nesbitt would not play, not from any fear of comparison, but from a sense of Justice towards the other actor.

In 1841 Mr. Wyatt went to England in search of talent, and made some engagements. I think he was absent when Nesbitt was engaged, but early in 1842 the first contingent arrived. This consisted of John Gordon Griffiths, Mr. and Mrs. Harry Deering (the parents of Olly Deering and Mrs. W. B. Gill), and Mr. and Mrs. Mereton (the first-named selected as Mr. Simmons' successor in the management). After a time came Madame Carendini, Mrs. Stirling (afterwards Mrs.Guerin, and now the widow of Richard Stewart, and mother of Richard, Docy, Nellie, and Maggie Stewart, who have all reached success upon the colonial stage), and Frank and John Howson. These came from Hobart Town. Then followed Madame Torning, Mr, James and Madame Louise, Mr. and Mrs. George Coppin and others making the Victoria company a particularly strong one. Of all these, but George Coppin, at 85, remains. Long may he remain!

Nesbitt remained with the company, and 'Coriolanus' was put into rehearsal; but Nesbitt's 'weakness' overtook him, and John Gordon Griffiths performed the part. Nesbitt then crossed the Tasman Sea to Van Diemen's Land; and played at the old Albion Theatre, Launceston, and at the Victoria, Hobart Town, for several seasons. He then crossed to Melbourne, where he secured an engagement at the old Queen's Theatre, in Queen-street, built by John Thomas Smith, the Melbourne Whittington, differing only from Dick in as much as Dicky was but thrice Lord Mayor of London, whereas John Thomas Smith was seven times Mayor of Melbourne. Mr. Nesbitt's liking for strong drinks was a source of constant worry to his managers.

(To be continued.)

A correspondent, with the not uncommon name of Jones, writes to say that Nesbitt M'Cron's first application for employment to Mr. Joseph Simmons was unsuccessful on 'account 'of his brogue,' and that Nesbitt never did duty as a policeman; that friends interviewed Mr. Simmons, and induced him to give the new man a "show." I am quite aware that Henniker Beaton, in his "Dramatic Stars," mentions the failure of Mr. Nesbitt in his first interview with Mr. Simmons; but I have indisputable evidence that Mr. Simmons, on hearing Nesbitt recite, engaged him on first application. That Nesbitt did police street duty for half a night is also beyond a doubt.

Mr. John Thomas Smith ("Sportsman," 15/6/'04), who (built the first theatre of any size in Melbourne, the Queen's, was a Sydney native, and therefore entitled to some notice in these annals. He was born in 1816, and educated by the historic pedagogue, Mr. Cape. He began life as a cadet or junior clerk in the Bank of Australasia on the foundation of that institution. From the bank he went to the Colonial Stores Department. This clerical work he found unsuitable, and he obtained an appointment as assistant teacher at the Aboriginal Station, then existing on the banks of the Yarra Yarra, where now are the Botanical Gardens. He voyaged to Melbourne at the end of the year 1837 in the steamer James Watt. He did not remain long at the Mission Station, on leaving which, on the advice of Captain Lonsdale, then commandant at the settlement, known as Beargrass, Mr. Smith turned his attention to commercial pursuits, and became manager for John Hodgson (afterwards well known in municipal and Political life). He soon, however, struck out for himself, and before many years had laid the foundations of business that afterwards brought him in a competence.

About the year 1845 he built the Queen's Theatre, amongst its early lessees and managers being George Coppin, Morton King and Charles Young. In 1842 Melbourne was incorporated, and Mr. Smith was elected to a seat in the Council, which I think he held until his death in 1879. Alongside the theatre, and on the corner of Queen-street and Little Bourke-street, was the St. John's Tavern, which Mr. Smith built and occupied while the theatre was in full swing. In 1853 Mr. Smith, then Mayor for the second time, gave a grand fancy dress ball in the theatre, the first of its kind in Victoria. The theatre had to be enlarged for the purpose, and to do so 40,000 English bricks at £21 per 1000 were used. During his third year as Mayor (1854-55) he gave another fancy dress ball in the old Exhibition Building, which stood on the site of the Mint. Of Mr. Smith's good qualities as a citizen it is not necessary here to speak. He gained high honours in the social and political life of his adopted colony. His sister was the mother of the three Gregorys, David, Edward and Charles, well known in cricketing circles in the sixties and seventies, and grandmother of the cricketing Gregorys of today.

To that old Queen's Theatre went Nesbitt M'Cron for a season, but his purse suffered much by his excesses whenever anything in business annoyed him, or he had been led into convivial company. From the Queen's he accepted a star engagement at Adelaide. He was bound under a peculiar arrangement. It was laid down in the bond that he was to receive £100 per week! — For four weeks. There were but twelve performances in the four weeks, and the last night of the twelve was to be for his benefit on terms. No money was to he paid him until the end of the engagement, and if he failed to make his appearance but once, the engagement was broken, and what he had earned declared forfeit. For eleven nights everything went well. The programme was frequently changed, and the house was crowded nightly. The piece selected for his benefit was "The Mountaineers," in which his Octavian was a masterly performance. After rehearsal he was invited to dine with some friends of the management, who professed great regard for the actor. He went to the dinner, drank wine, and became insensible! Word was sent to the theatre, and an actor named Thompson undertook the part. No mention of Mr. Nesbitt's "illness" was made, and no apology offered. The theatre was crammed to the roof, but Nesbitt never received one penny for his eleven nights' work, nor the proceeds of the benefit taken in his name.

Writing on this incident some years ago Mr. S. H. Banks said: "It was, of course, quite an accident that he became drunk, but the circumstances suggest something outside of accident on the part of some one, of which, it is to be hoped, the management was perfectly innocent.'" I shall have something more to say about Mr. Nesbitt later on.

While Nesbitt was absent from the Victoria Theatre, another actor of some note appeared upon the scene. This was Mr. Morton King, who had gained some experience on the English stage. He had come to New South Wales without any intention of acting, his object being to engage in trade. He started as a timber merchant, but the bad times of the early forties brought him down, and perforce he was obliged to return to the stage. He first played at the Victoria for a benefit, the play being "The Fall of Tarquin," Mr. King enacting the role of Brutus. He was then engaged by the management for a round of Shakespearean and other leading characters. In his young days he must have had a good appearance, and was recognized as an actor of merit. When I saw him, years after he had left the stage and was in political life, he had grown stout and florid. As an actor he was rather stilted, "mouthed," and "ranted" a deal, and had a somewhat harsh voice, I saw him act but once, of which more anon. The critics of his time said that he defied all the laws laid down by Hamlet in his instructions to the players. He suffered also by comparison with the recent "star," Nesbitt M'Cron. Mr. King was brought up to the silk trade, which he followed in the old country with success until he became stage struck. When about 30 years of age he came to Sydney, where he met George Coppin, and struck up a life-long friendship. After his appearance at the Victoria Theatre he went to Melbourne and Adelaide, and appeared in both cities, in a round of characters. In 1851 he opened a new theatre at Adelaide, with "The Lady of Lyons," he being the Claude Melnotte. The gold fever threw Mr. King back into business pursuits. Under his proper name, Mark Last King, he joined a Mr. Gibbon in business as auctioneers and estate agents and earned a competence which placed him in easy circumstances, until his death. In 1859 he entered Parliament as member for one of the Bourke County constituencies. The only occasion upon which I saw Mr. King upon the stage was at a performance of "The Merchant of Venice," by members of the Victorian Parliament, in aid of the Shakespeare Scholarship Fund. The performance was given in the Theatre Royal, Mr. King being the Shylock and Mr. George Coppin the Launcelot Gobbo. The other of the early lessees of the old Queen's, in Melbourne, was one well known in Sydney, and who died here, Charles Horace Frisbee Young. By a strange coincidence, one day last week, the same name cropped up in the Sydney Divorce Court. Charles Young, the name he was best known by, was born in Doncaster, in April 1819. His parents followed the dramatic profession, and with them he studied until he made his first appearance in London, the character being Little Pickle in "The Spoiled Child," and Young Norval in Holmes' tragedy of "Douglas." (In this tragedy there is a most extraordinary blunder. The author was a parson, and a man of great learning, yet he speaks of ''Mountains, inaccessible, by shepherds trod.")

Charles Young subsequently appeared as Noah Claypole, in "Oliver Twist." He left the stage for a time and spent four or five years at sea, chiefly in English coasting vessels. In 1843 he arrived, I think, at Hobart Town as second officer of a ship. Anyhow, at whichever port he landed, he met in Hobart Town his sister, the wife of Mr. G. H. Rogers, the well-known comedian. This determined him to again take to the stage and make his home in Australia. He made his first appearance at the Victoria Theatre, Hobart Town, in the character of Michael in "William Tell." He became the lessee of the Queen's Theatre, Melbourne, in 1851, being then in partnership with another old-time low comedian of great merit John P. Hydes.

Charlie Young's first wife was a Miss Thompson, daughter of a Liverpool merchant, her mother being a Miss Cooke, the daughter of James Cooke, who for 30 years was principal bass singer a the Theatre Royal, Drury-lane. Mrs. Young was niece to the late William L. Rede, and cousin to those well-known actresses, Mrs. W. West and Mrs. Waylett. Mr. and Mrs. Thompson came to Australia when the daughter was an infant, settling, I think, in Van Diemen's Land, where her mother, through a reversal of fortune, was again obliged to turn to the stage as a means of living. When but eight years of age, Mrs. Young played juvenile parts with great success. At 15 years of age she married Charles Young, at Launceston, Tasmania, and with Charlie assisted in the management of various theatres in which they had an interest. The couple went to England in 1857, Charlie obtaining an engagement as leading low comedian at the Strand Theatre, while the wife made her first appearance in England at Sadler’s Wells Theatre, under the management of Mr. Samuel Phelps, as Julia an "The Hunchback." She subsequently appeared in a long line of characters at the Haymarket. The English domestic life of the Youngs was not of the happiest. The wife seems to have been of a suspicious jealous character, and Charlie did not appear to have been as circumspect in his conduct as he should have been. The fact that husband and wife were playing at different houses, in totally different lines of business, and in the largest city in the world, "the city of magnificent distances" as far as theatres were concerned, may account for a lot of the trouble Anyhow, Mrs. Charles Young obtained a divorce, and Charlie came South once more. Mrs. Young then married an actor of parts more in her line, Hermann Vezin, from whom, if my memory serves me, she was divorced. On his return to Australia Charlie Young became the most popular low comedian in the colonies and as a burlesque actor had no compeer, which is saying a good deal, considering the dramatic talent which glutted the Australias in the sixties and seventies. We had then Harwood, Richard Stewart, Fred Young, Wigan, Bill Andrews, Harry Jackson, G. H. Rogers, J. C. Lambert, etc. Mr. Charles Young had a sister on the stage, Fanny, a very capable and pleasing actress, wife of a low comedian, who was known as George Washington Daniells. I don't know that Mr. Daniells ever blessed his godfather and godmother; but I do know that much "borak" was pocked at him over his name. He was, however, a good, steady fellow, notwithstanding his cognomen. Mr. Charles Young married secondly a lady who acted as Hebe at William Pitts Garrick's Head Hotel, Bourke street, Melbourne. My last chat with Charley Young was, in company with Sam Banks, at the Museum Hotel, which stood in William-street, Woolloomooloo, alongside the Blind Asylum workshops site (not then built), the exact site being where a large furniture warehouse now stands. The Museum Hotel was a red brick building standing in solitary glory, and a melancholy inn at any time. Charlie was then in bad health, crotchety, disappointed in life and not caring much how the curtain fell. He died there in January 1874.

In 1846-7-8 Mr. Nesbitt was again at the Victoria Theatre, Sydney, erratic occasionally, but still a great favourite with playgoers. Early in 1848, to relieve a strain, Mr. Nesbitt went to Maitland, then a quiet, a very quiet, town. East Maitland, the old Government town, I mean. I don't think West Maitland was then thought of excepting as a camping ground for teamsters. In Maitland in 1848 was an amateur dramatic club of some pretensions. A large building behind the old Fitzroy Arms had been transformed into a very handsome little theatre. Amongst the performing members of the club were Alfred Levien, father, I am told, of Mr. Harry Levien M.L.A., Solomon Cohen, Francis Sandoe John Sheppard, Sam Russell, Samuel Hawker Banks, and many other not half bad actors. The initial performance of the club was "the Rover's Bride" and "The Man With the Carpet Bag," in aid of the hospital funds. When it became known that the great star, Nesbitt, was ruralising in the town, he was waited upon and asked to assist in some of the performances. I think the club played weekly. Mr. Nesbitt made six appearances with the club, first as William Tell, then as Othello, and finally as Master Heywood in Douglas Jerrold's now-forgotten play, "The Rent Day"— the play only is forgotten, the landlord never forgets the rent day. Each of the parts named Mr. Nesbitt played twice, the leading lady being Mrs. Arabin, mentioned in connection with the opening of the Victoria Theatre ten years previously. In Mr. Nesbitt's time the club appears to have played twice a week, the performances in every sense being successful: good houses, consequently plenty of cash, the funds of the hospital benefiting largely, in addition to which the club was enabled to present Mr. Nesbitt with a purse of 50 sovereigns; not quite up to his Adelaide terms, but infinitely better, as he handled the cash.

Soon after his Maitland experience, Mr. Nesbitt, with his wife and family, left Sydney for San Francisco, then bursting upon the world's astonished gaze as a gold producing country of extraordinary wealth. In 1849 crowds of Sydney folk, known on the Pacific Slope as "Sydney Ducks," and not at all beloved, made their way to the fields, so that Nesbitt found many friends amongst the audiences, and he needed them, as events proved. He appeared at the American Theatre, Kearney-street, under the auspices, of Manager Attwater, and under his family name, M'Cron. James Stark and Mrs. Hudson Kirby (who subsequently come to Sydney as Mrs. Stark) were the leading performers. Business was very bad at the time (the end of 1848),

"Forty-nine" had not commenced to roar, but Attwater at once engaged M'Cron to alternate with Stark. The salary for three nights a week was good, and, as if going one better, in bad business it was paid nightly. Stark had been, playing to empty houses. M'Cron filled the theatre, a circumstance which annoyed Mrs. Kirby— who was engaged to be married to Stark— very much. The lady made no disguise of her feelings towards the Sydney actor, though there were others, from Sydney in the company, and left no stone unturned— as the saying is— to get Nesbitt out of the theatre. The outcome of her animosity will be detailed at another time.

(to be continued.)

The jealousy exhibited by Mrs. Hudson Kirby against Mr. Nesbitt was roused by several incidents; first business was awfully bad, James Stark, Mrs. Kirby's affianced husband, had been playing to empty benches, so poor, as pointed out, that salaries were paid nightly. We may guess that the treasury contained only the night's receipts when the management "walked the ghost" in that fashion. The actors, to be on the safe side, stuck to the arrangement, as any night might close the theatre. When Nesbitt appeared things altered, as if by a magician's wand; the houses were packed, the actor evoking the utmost enthusiasm, on the nights, alternately with Stark, when he appeared, and the treasury filled. Mrs. Kirby was an imperious lady who could brook no rival near her coming husband's throne. There was a Sydney actor named Hambledon in the theatre. With him Mrs. Kirby first quarrelled, and in front of the curtain one night, with alleged tears in her eyes, she complained to the audience that she had been "insulted by those damned Britishers!" Mrs. Hudson Kirby was herself a favourite with the 'Frisco audiences, and the sight of their favourite in tears drew not ears, but revolvers. Nesbitt was playing Richard III, the house, as usual, was crowded, and the audience, naturally sympathising with the lady, called loudly for Nesbitt. When he came before the curtain he was so assailed that he could not make himself heard for a while. When he did get the ear of the audience he explained that he had no quarrel with anyone in the theatre; that he had never insulted anyone, and least of all a lady. But while making on effort to explain what he thought was the cause of the complaint, he was stopped by a man in the body of the pit exclaiming with an American drawl, "Shoot the b—r"— not beggar. Instead of leaving the stage under such intimidation, as a timid actor would, Nesbitt stepped to the footlights, and opening the breast of "Richard's" shirt, said firmly and defiantly, "Shoot, and be damned. I come from a country where men do not fear bullets." Very brave, but a dangerous experiment in front of a lot of red-shirted, well-bearded, half-drunken diggers from every clime under the sun. But Mr. Nesbitt's melodramatic attitude and fearless words changed the erstwhile antagonistic audience into friends, and the play proceeded uninterruptedly.

The incident upset the weak man. He flew to his usual consoler, brandy; just a little at first, by way of sedative, his usual remedy in cases of annoyance, and as usual, he took on overdose. During the next performance, while under the influence of liquor, something happened which put him in mind of the Hudson Kirby incident, and remembering the shoot and the "beggar" episode, he without an saving clause, condemned the audience and Americans generally to the care of his Satanic majesty and the warm regions generally. This was the signal for a general outburst of temper in the audience, and Nesbitt's friends feared for his safety. In an English or Australian theatre decayed vegetables or an occasional ancient egg would be the most unpleasant weapon used by an irritated audience, but in San Francisco in 1849, and with a deadly hatred against "Sydney ducks," the shooting irons were the argumentative measures introduced. And as the weapons were always handy to the diggers, who shot first and inquired afterwards, Nesbitt's friends wisely smuggled him from the theatre, and left the piece to be finished as best the management could. Mr. Nesbitt subsequently had an engagement at Macguire's Opera House, but details are meagre. When the Starks came to Sydney in 1853, Mr. Stark expressed his regret at the 'Frisco incident, but poor Nesbitt had by that time joined his fathers on the Golden Shore.

So many obstacles were placed in Nesbitt's way by those opposed to everything English— "blawsted English," as Henry Squires once said— particularly if that English had an Australian flavour about it, by the people of San Francisco that he became disgusted with his surroundings, and again had recourse to the bottle, lost his prestige upon the stage, and finally determined to try his luck at the "diggings." At the goldfields he found (what he ought to have known) that his strength was not equal to pick and shovel work, and he returned to 'Frisco. At this time he suffered terribly from rheumatic gout, and to relieve the pain, had recourse to morphine, and could take a grain and a half, said to be enough for five men, without any ill effects to himself.

During Nesbitt 's stay in California the place was infested with lawless characters from all quarters of the globe. Many of these outlaws were from Sydney— "old hands," the dregs of the convict system. On his return to 'Frisco, Nesbitt encountered a gang, who promptly proceeded to strip him, search his clothing, and generally "stick him up." Enfeebled as he was, resistance was out of the question. But while the process of searching was going on, Nesbitt recognised some Sydney faces among the gang, and saw some hope for himself. He asked them if they did not remember him? They did not, and did not care a "continental" who he was. When he announced that he was Nesbitt, of the Victoria Theatre Sydney, they were incredulous. If he were Nesbitt, let him give them "a bit of some play," Just to let them see. Nesbitt recited for them "Tell's Address to his Native Mountains," when one of the gang said: "You must be Nesbitt; no other man could recite that like him." The deadbeat actor's property was returned to him. He was hauled off to the "brigand's camp," and treated to the best of everything. They made him rest with them for a while, and, like Good Samaritans, sent him on his way rested. They offered him money, but Nesbitt was not without coin, though sorely hampered by illness.

In 1852 Mr. Nesbitt returned to Sydney. The voyage from the Golden Gate had so recruited his health that he was enabled to accept an engagement from Gordon Griffiths at the Victoria Theatre for a round of characters. His friends noticed that his fire had gone out, but enough was left to show what the man had been before he made the fatal trip to California, for fatal it was to his future career upon the stage. During the Victoria Theatre season new critics had come to the front, and these had not seen Nesbitt in his prime; yet they eulogised his acting, and the season was generally successful.

We next hear of Nesbitt early in 1853. Mr. Banks, then resident in Melbourne met an old acquaintance (James Holdstock, of Maitland), who informed him that Nesbitt was then lying dangerously ill at Passmore's Sydney Hotel. This hotel was in Queen-street, down near Flinders-street, and opposite "Bowden's Folly," as the old Western Market foundations were called. Bowden was an old-time city councillor, who caused a heap of money to be spent on the preliminaries of the markets. The foundations remained for years monuments of Bowden's folly. I think Mr. Passmore was an old Sydneyite, hence the name of the hotel. There is a big story hanging to this old-time Melbourne hostelry, which may be told another time. Mr. Banks—it was a Sunday morning— went to the hotel and inquired for Nesbitt. The landlord refused admission; but as Nesbitt had left his family in Sydney, and was alone in Melbourne, Banks would not take a refusal. Passmore said that Nesbitt was dying and ought to be let die in peace. All the more reason, thought Sam Banks, that he ought to be looked after. Sam expressed his determination to stay all night, or until he had seen his friend. At last Passmore gave in. On reaching the room he found Nesbitt lying as if in death, but the actor recognised his friend, and begged him to obtain for him his usual remedy, morphine. "A grain and a half of morphine will save my life," wailed the actor. Banks called at almost every chemist's shop for the morphine, but was refused by one and all; the quantity, they said, was enough to kill five men! Despairing of getting relief from his friend, Banks was returning to Passmore's to report the failure of his mission, when he met Dr. W. H. Campbell, to whom he was well known. The doctor lived in a pretty villa cottage, which he built at the corner of William-street and Bourke-street, afterwards the offices of Robert Cooper Bagot, the secretary of the Victoria Racing Club, and later still of the Volunteer Force, but on the site of which is now built Menzies' Hotel. Banks asked the doctor if he would give a dose of one grain and a half of morphine to a patient, and Campbell's reply was that he never knew but one man who could take such a dose, and that man was Francis Nesbitt McCron, the actor!

Banks explained the circumstances, the doctor gave the order for the morphine, and while Sam went for the drug the doctor made his way to the Sydney Hotel. The morphine was administered, and after seeing the patient in a peaceful sleep, Campbell and Banks left, promising to return early in the morning. Instead of finding a dying or dead man, they found Nesbitt up, shaving himself, and as bright and brilliant as if he never had a day's illness. That same Monday morning Nesbitt visited the Queen's Theatre, where he closed with the lessees and managers— Charles Young and John P. Hyde—for a season of 14 nights and a clear benefit. With a little extra care and total abstinence he played the engagement successfully, and then left to join his family in Sydney. Mr Banks followed soon after, and the pair agreed that after Banks had wound up some business which he had in hand, the pair should travel together. It was ordained otherwise; he had recovered his health and was anxious after a rest in the bosom of his family in Sydney to continue his colonial tour. The Victorian goldfields were in full swing, gold was being had for the seeking, theatres were being erected everywhere anything like a population had gathered. Though the theatres could not compare with the palaces of to-day, they satisfied the wants of the mining population, and the money was rolling in. With a steady man keeping him company, Nesbitt might yet have reaped a golden harvest; but in an unlucky moment, a freak, a whim, he, quite unknown to his family, shipped for Geelong, where he at once commenced an engagement which proved to be his last. The play for the evening, the fateful 28th of March 1853, was a favourite one with Nesbitt, Sheridan Knowles' "William Tell," which was played without a hitch up to the last act. After the curtain had fallen it was observed that there was something wrong with Mr. Nesbitt. He was seen to fall backwards, and on going to see what was the matter it was found that the actor had swooned. The sorrowful episode resembled in some measure the last appearance of the great Edmund Kean. That genius, whose brilliance had been dimmed by excesses such as Nesbitt suffered from, fell fainting on the shoulder of Charles, was carried from the stage, and never made another appearance. The actors in the Geelong theatre, knowing Mr. Nesbitt's weakness for alcoholic drinks, thought that his swoon was the result of over indulgence, that he was in fact what would be called to day "suffering recovery." What do you think the imbeciles did? The members of the theatrical profession are usually very lenient to their brethren who are weak, but on this occasion the sympathetic instinct was absent. The unfortunate actor was convoyed to the watchhouse. The peculiarities of the symptoms aroused the suspicion of the lockup-keeper, who immediately sent for medical aid. The moment the doctor saw the patient he diagnosed the case as not one of alcohol, or yet suffering a recovery, and ordered Nesbitt's immediate removal to the hospital. This was done, but as the hospital authorities were not aware of his morphine habit, or the cause of his exhaustion., their efforts to resuscitate the patient were unavailing, and Nesbitt's troubled life was ended. "Thus on March 29, 1853, at the early age of 44 years, the stage lost its bright particular star, his family an affectionate husband, and his friends the society of a genial, accomplished gentleman."' Such was the eulogy passed upon Mr. Nesbitt on his decease. The remains of the actor were interred in Geelong Cemetery. Some three years after, when another erratic genius, Gustavus Vaughan Brooke, was playing an engagement in Geelong, he visited the grave of his old friend, and, finding it unmarked, caused to be erected a monument to keep green the memory of the man whom he denominated his great predecessor in the affections of the Australian people. In honour of this thoughtful tribute of Brooke, a local poet composed some lines, which may be reproduced:

Neglected and forgotten the dead tragedian lay

Without a stone to mark the spot where he mouldered into clay,

Until a kindred spirit came, who, from green Erin's shore,

Elisha-like, the mantle of dramatic genius wore.

He gazed upon the naked sod, and then, with upturned eyes,

Bade to his countrymen and God a fitting tribute rise.

Thus generous hearts assimilate, when there's a touch within

Of universal nature, which makes the whole world kin.

In the spring of 1858 Mr. and Mrs. James Stark came to Sydney, and commenced an engagement under John Gordon Griffiths' management. Amongst the company engaged to support the transatlantic stars was a Sydney native, Thos. Willis, who is spoken of as a juvenile actor of great ability. He had been, in fact, a pupil of Mr. Nesbitt's, and profited greatly by his master's tuition. Mr. Willis had a great affection for Nesbitt. He has heard how his friend had been treated in 'Frisco, and believing that the Starks had a share in the trouble, he savagely assailed Mr. Stark on the stage in the presence of the company. It was only by the interposition of friends that Willis was prevented assaulting the American actor. For this grave offence Willis had to leave the company, and the knowledge of the circumstances reaching the public ear, the Starks suffered until the facts had become known. The American couple expressed their regret at the death of Nesbitt, and solemnly, declared their innocence of having had any hand in the Californian trouble. Young Willis did not long survive his friend. A few months after his vindication of Nesbitt on the stage at the old Vic he died, and the profession lost a promising actor. The Starks visited Melbourne, Hobart Town, and Launceston, and made "quite a pile." After a few years they returned, but found things theatrical mightily changed. G. V. Brooke had taken Australia by storm, and had such a hold on the play-going public that when the Starks appeared in tragedy and high comedy the American accent became distinctly marked, and the pair played to Luke warm audiences; in fact they utterly failed. On this occasion they further explained the Nesbitt-'Frisco business. They said that it had been published that Nesbitt had spoken disrespectfully of the Californian people, but that they (the Starks) did not believe it; that it was an unfortunate business, and that if Nesbitt had been less stubborn and wayward all would have been well. The Starks have long since passed to their rest, and like Nesbitt, "after life's fitful fever, sleep well.”

(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.)