Mrs Lambert

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.)