Henry Edwards

G. V. Brooke presented his Othello for the first time in Australia at the old Queen's Theatre in Queen-street, Melbourne, to, as a matter of course, an overflowing house. The prices were high, the lowest, if I remember rightly, being half-a-crown. There were Othellos before and after Brooke. I have seen most of them, and must still pin my faith to the ill-starred actor who went down in the London on that fateful day in January, 1866. Of course, I did not see Arabin, who opened the old—then new — Victoria Theatre in Pitt-street in 1838 in the character of the Moor; nor yet did I see Nesbitt M'Cron, whom the late Samuel Hawkes Banks considered equal to, if not excelling, Brooke. I saw the spluttering M'Kean Buchanan, the testy Bandmann, the old-school actor Creswick, and that other old-school actor James Anderson, Dampier, Carden, Clarence Holt, George Rignold, and an old Drury Lane actor who came out before Brooke went to England, but whose name has slipped my memory. I have seen minor actors play the part in stock companies, but neither major nor minor linger, so lovingly in the memory of old playgoers as Brooke. I remember one performance of 'Othello' at the old Royal, Melbourne, on a Saturday night, when the piece was so well played and staged in every detail that the hour of midnight struck as the curtain descended, and the afterpiece had to be abandoned. At one of Brooke's performances of Othello in the Melbourne Royal the Receipts reached £531 15s. I first saw Brooke in Australia as Evelyn in Bulwer Lytton's 'Money.' He had been fulfilling an engagement in Sydney, and had hurried to Melbourne on business, when advantage was taken to have one night's performance. That was in 1858. The house was crowded, and the actor apologised for having to play in his every-day costume, as his wardrobe was in Sydney. His first appearance was on the 10th of May, 1855, the play 'Othello' (in which he always opened). The Iago was Richard Younge ; the Cassio, Robert Heir ; Fanay Cathcart, Desdemona; Emilia, Mrs Guerin; the Brabantes, 'old Lambert.' But , Othello was not Brooke's only character, though it was the best of his Shakespearian. As Sir Giles Overreach, in 'A New Way to Pay Old Debts,' he was simply superb, his final scene being simply appalling. Mr. Barton told me that it equalled Edmund Kean's best effort, and Sir Giles was Kean's masterpiece outside Shakespearian drama. As Martin Walter in 'The Hunchback,' Matlow Elmore, ('Love's Sacrifice'), Virginius, and, characters of that stamp, no man has yet appeared in Australia to equal Brooke. He was the first to bring out here 'Louis XI.,' a part played by him in strong contrast to Charles Kean's rendering of the same character. It will be remembered that when Louis is plotting murder, the Angelus bell sounds, and the hoary old sinner takes off his cap ,to pray to the relics affixed to the headgear. Kean's rendering of that part caused the audience to laugh. Brooke was so solemn that the audience was hushed at the hypocrisy of the wretched monarch. But it was not alone in the heavy drama that Brooke flourished. His Irish comedy has never been excelled. The memory of his Felix O'Callaghan in 'On His Last Legs' can never fade. As Captain Murphy Maguire he kept the audience in a simmer of merriment from start to finish. The same with Pierce O'Hara in 'The Irish Attorney.' In low Irish comedy, of the John Drew and William O'Neill type, Brooke was a failure. He could act the gentleman, but not the bog-trotter.
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A good authority, Frank Brewer, in a little work published some years ago, entitled 'The Drama and Music in Australia,' says 'Brooke's reputation preceded him to Australia. His mental talents for the profession were of the highest order and his physical organisation was admirable. To a classical face of the Roman type and a well-formed majestic figure, was united a voice of exceptional volume and roundness, which he inflected with consummate skill. He was well educated, and had the manners of a polished gentleman. These natural and acquired elements to Brooke, to which a fine conceptive faculty was allied, eminently fitted him for the highest position in the realms of dramatic art. From 1848 to the time of his departure from England, he was probably one of the most popular actors in the United Kingdom yet; strange to say, the London critics and venerable playgoers were lukewarm towards him. Brooke certainly extracted from them unalloyed praise, his Master Walter was beyond the reach of cavil; but the admirers of Phelps and Charles Kean were so far prejudicial (no other word will express the exact state of feeling towards Brooke), that he was denied in London that full measure of approbation which was undoubtedly his due, without in any way detracting from the genius of Phelps, or the abilities, improved so much by study, of Kean. True; at times, Brooke was unequal to his performances. So was Edmund Kean, but in has great characters, when he rose to the top of his genius in Othello, Sir Giles, Master Walter, Matthew Elmore, Virginius, and others of his fine impersonations, he had in his best days no superior. High as was the opinion formed of Brooke in Sydney, he surpassed their expectations. The verdict was that he was the finest actor that had up to that time visited Australia. Had he devoted himself to comedy, particularly Irish comedy, he might have equalled Collins. In two characters he has not been surpassed in the colonies— Captain Murphy Maguire In “The Lerwin Family,” and O'Callaghan in “On His Last Legs.” The latter he made especially his own, and convulsed the audience with his amusing presentation of the volatile Irish gentleman reduced to the condition of living on his wits.
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In 1861, William Bede Dalley went to England as Immigration Lecturer, and in the same ship — the Great Britain— went G. V. Brooke. Dalley could appreciate talent in any man, and when the news of Brooke's death reached the colony, Dalley gave his opinion of the great actor to the world :— 'With one exception, that of Mr. Phelps, Mr. Brooke was unquestionably the first interpreter of Shakespeare upon the British stage. His physical advantages, voice, face, dignity of presence, instinctive gracefulness, were much greater than even those of Macready's great successor. But in subtle renderings, profound study and thought, Mr. Phelps was as no one more heartily acknowledged, than Mr. Brooke himself, the grander actor. I institute no comparison between him and a gentleman who recently visited this country, the bearer of a great dramatic name —Mr. Kean— and whose reputation is identified with spectacular representation in England, and my reason is simply this: that it would be a reflection upon the memory of Mr. Brooke to do so. Those who have never left this country, and whose acquaintance with the drama is exclusively derived from Mr. Brooke's acting, may be assured that in many respects nothing grander could be seen anywhere. The most fastidious critic was conquered into loving admiration by the mingled tenderness and terror of his Othello; while none could resist the melting softness of his accents in the last awful scene of fantastic sadness in which the noble Lear mingles 'matter and impertinency, reason and madness.' And then the life-like pictures of our own dear Irish humour and pathos, bringing, back to us by the magic of tone and gesture, scenes and times, and pleasures and sufferings. Where shall we ever see these again? In the Irish impersonations of Mr. Brooke one thing was very noticeable — no matter how low the character, there was always some hint of the gentleman in the performance. We have had many stage Irishmen in the colonies, notably Hudson, William O'Neill, John Drew, and John Collins, besides our local William Andrews, but none of them were ever on the same level as Brooke in portraying the Irish gentleman.
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When its good work could be of no service to the actor, then full fathom five in the Bay of Biscay, the -'London Times' pronounced a eulogy:— 'In January, 1848, Brooke appeared at the old Olympic Theatre, then under the management of Mr. Davidson. Virtually this was his first appearance in London, and not often has the approaching debut of an actor produced so large an amount of curiosity as in the case of G. V. Brooke. He had many offers from the metropolitan managers, but had refused them all, and these frequent negotiations, accompanied with news of brilliant successes in the provinces, kept his name before the Londoners, who 18 years ago were much more excitable on the subject of tragedy than they are at present. His performance of Othello, the part chosen for his first appearance, at once secured him a wide popularity. He repeated the part to creditable audiences for 30 successive nights, and for some weeks in 1848 he stood high amongst the theatrical lions of London, lively discussions as to his merits taking place in every assemblage where plays and players formed a topic of conversation. His physical advantages were very great. He had handsome and expressive features ; his figure was tall and commanding; and, above all, his voice not only rich and sonorous, but singularly capable of extremes of light and shade. It was in giving expression to violent emotions that be turned these natural gifts to the best account, and the storms of passion which distinguished his Othello and his Sir Giles Overreach were certain, in his best days, of commanding the tumultuous applause of thousands. He owed his proficiency not to crabbed art, but to fresh, healthy nature, and the 'inspired genius' is always a popular figure. A similar belief was entertained earlier in the century with respect to Edmund Kean, and among the theatrical gossips of 1848 those were not wanting who saw in G. V. Brooke the tragedian upon whom the mantle of Kean had fallen. In 1854 he took leave of the London public, and proceeded to Australia, where, as in America, his success was prodigious. He returned to London, after seven years' absence, in 1862, and again appeared as Othello at Drury Lane. When he perished in the s.s. London he was on his way to Melbourne to fulfil an engagement.'
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Just here I may be permitted to mention that Mr. and Mrs. J. B. Steele (Miss Adelaide Bowering) were engaged in London to support Brooke in his second tour in Australia. Mr. and Mrs. Steele came out in the sailing ship Western Ocean. I do not know whether the London passenger list was full, or Mr. George Coppin had on him a fit of economy, but it was fortunate for Mr. and Mrs. Steele that they came in the sailing ship. Mr. Steele informed me that the first they heard of the dreadful disaster to the London was from the pilot at Port Phillip Heads. I had the melancholy pleasure of spending an afternoon with Mr. Steele during the week. At 72 years of age he is still in good bodily health, but, alas! a cancer has attacked his tongue, and the once sweet voice of the well-graced actor is now merely a gutteral sound. Yet he bears his great misfortune with calm dignity, and is resignedly awaiting, as he says, 'the roll call.' Mrs. Steele died a few years ago in London.
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It was in the old theatre at Cork that Brooke made some of his earlier successes. In Dublin he was simply idolised. The houses he drew were packed. In Australia his countrymen rallied round him, and but for his weakness in the matter of strong drink his seven years' residence in Australia would have been a huge money success. I think, soon after the completion of his first engagement with Mr. Coppin, Mr . Brooke entered into partnership with that gentleman. They had a magnificent property to work upon. The Theatre Royal, the Olympic Theatre, and last, but not least, the splendid Cremorne Gardens, which had within its boundaries a bijou theatre, known as the Pantheon. Brooke appeared at the two first named, the Pantheon being given over to domestic drama of the drawing-room order. Cremorne Gardens were started by Mr. Coppin in 1856, little steamers plying on the Yarra conveying the patrons. They were grand times those old Cremorne days. A time came when Brooke and Coppin separated, the tragedian selecting the Theatre Royal as his share of the property, Mr. Coppin retaining the Gardens and the Olympic — the best end of the stick I have always thought. He (Brooke) engaged Robert Heir as his stage and general manager, Mrs. Heir being leading lady. Brooke was not content to sit at home at his ease, as the old song has it, but accepted engagements in all the cities and towns of the now Commonwealth. Bob Heir was not a success as a manager. I am afraid he was given to the production of plays which were calculated to 'show off' himself and his wife. Mrs. Heir was getting somewhat stale; in fact, the 'Argus' rudely told her that it was time she dropped Desdemona and took up Emelia; but what leading actress was ever known to adopt the advice of the press ? Mrs. Heir did not, though I think on one occasion she did play Emelia 'just to oblige' someone — Barry Sullivan, I think. To Bob Heir succeeded, as manager, a sterling old Sydney actor, Henry Edwards, who had joined with him in the management George Fawcett Rowe, but known only to us as George Fawcett. There were three brothers — George, Sandford, and Tom. Sandford generally looked after the front of the house, though on one occasion he played the part of Lord George Gordon in Fawcett Rowe's adaptation of Dickens' "Barnaby Rudge." The rule of Edwards and Fawcett continued some time, Brooke occasionally appearing in his best character, but unfortunately for himself, taking no interest in the working of the theatre. It was under the Edwards-Fawcett management that Brooke appeared in two original characters—in a one-act play, by Marston, I think, entitled 'Dreams of Delusion,' in which he performed the character of a mad doctor to perfection. The other original character was in a drama by R. H. Horne. 'The Death of Marlowe.' I am, however, not quite clear upon the point whether Brooke or Edwards played the leading part. The two little pieces held the stage for a week or so and then dropped out.
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While managing the Theatre Royal for G. V. Brooke, Edwards and Fawcett were also running the old Princess' in Spring-street, one of the very few theatres which escaped the ususal fate of theatres— fire— and where Marie Duret, Le Roy, Joseph Jefferson, and some other good men and women first appeared. Why and how Edwards, Fawcett, and Brooke "fell out," and George Coppin again fell in— don't misunderstand the phrase— with Gustavus Vaughan Brooke will be told another time.

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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.'
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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.

At Spiers and Pond's 'Hall by the Sea’, at Margate, when the 'Special Bohemian' of the 'Orchestra' arrived at his destination ('Sportsman,' September 28, 1904), he found 'A crowd, a Tricon playing, surrounded with gas jets, looking as if Spiers and Pond were practising hard to set the Thames on fire, more gas devices and jets over the facade (for which word I am indebted to the 'Standard'), and a large poster, which informed me that Claribel's Ballads were to be sung every night.

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'On being restored to consciousness'—he does not say how he became unconscious, I have my suspicions — 'I found the concert had commenced. M. Jullian was the conductor; and the programme included the names of Madame Parepa, Mdlle. Liebhart, Miss Eyles, Miss Rose Herssee, Mr. Farquharson, Mr. Weiss, and Mr. Perron (vocalists), Miss Kathleen Ryan, Miss Kate Gordon, and Herr Strauss. Herr Meyer Lutz was the accompanist, The hall was crammed, and the concert went off like one of Spiers and Pond's champagne corks. The orchestra is first-rate, and Jullian conducts with all the chic of his father before him. I never heard popular music more popularly played than the lighter selections on Saturday. As for the singing, we had the pompous Parepa, who was not half so much to my Bohemian taste as the graceful and unpretending Rose Hersee, who sang 'Where the Bee Sucks' in a way that electrified Margate right through the hall and out and across the road, right down to the bathing machines. Then there was Fraulein Liebhardt, who was vociferously recalled for her 'Lover and the Bird' (especially the 'Bird'), and the chivalrous-looking Weiss, who kept his 'Watch at the Fore’, although it was long past that hour, and, of course, his watch must have been awfully slow, although the song wasn't; and there was the terrific basso from the colonies called Farquharson, who accompanied capitally on the piano and sang the 'Wolf' with the most hilarious hilarity. (At this point I had an interview with Spiers and Pond in the refreshment room.) George Perren was then on with Mr. Weiss, and, as by this time the place had been formally opened, the duet was appropriately 'Hall's Well,' after which Miss Kathleen Ryan played a lot of Weber on the piano, and a flutter went through many a manly Margate heart to behold that clever and fascinating young lady, with the large dark eyes, and the power of the wrist, not to mention— (Spiers and Pond have just sent for me). To resume, Miss Kate Gordon also gave us a touch of her very excellent quality on a somewhat obdurate Broadwood, and Miss Eyles having contributed 'The Lady of the Lea,' which the programme informed us was composed by 'Claribel' (Ha! ha! I now see how her songs are to be done every night!), and Spiers and Pond having executed a most successful duet together in the shape of a bow from the orchestra, exhausted nature could do no more, and I rushed off to sup with a noble and intimate friend at No. 4 Royal Crescent. When I emerged from the hall a very beautiful experiment in lights was going on under the direction of my talented and affable friend, Mr. George Dolby. It appeared that whenever the transparencies at the hall were lit up, all the Margate lights, including the pier lights, went down. It had an indescribably beautiful effect, and, as such, reflects great credit on Spiers and Pond. Our old friend Dolby did not seem to see it in the same light, and made severe remarks upon the Gas Company. Mr. Thorne (local assistant of Mr. Hingston, the manager), having been despatched to sit on the gasometer, peace and harmony were restored, and your old Bohemian speedily found his weary form reposing elegantly on a sofa, at No. 4, above distantly referred to. There was hock, much hock, a beautiful balcony, and cigars; also fair women, and a murmurous sea in front. I like the lot, my noble friend , ———.

'Come! (said your own Bohemian to the company generally) unto these yellow Margate sands, with yellow Margate boots on at 4s 6d, and there take hands. Where the wild waves tumble o'er— and in which I shall bathe to-morrow, probably in the afternoon, drinking in the meantime a cup of kindness yet (with a slice of lemon in it) to Spier's and Pond, than whom I——'

(Here our correspondent's letter becomes luckily illegible. We are, however, enabled from other and more trustworthy sources to state that the Margate Hall-by-the-Sea is likely to prove a well-merited success.— Ed.)

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The old Melbourne Royal and the historic cafe are doomed. After a life of half a century, with a fire midway, the old building, I believe, goes. The history of the Melbourne Theatre Royal will include the history of the best days of the Victorian stage, when the acting was acknowledged to be at his best, and without the adjunct of pretty scenery and elaborate properties. The theatre was built by John Black, a name unknown in theatricals until then, but well known on the road between Melbourne and Sandhurst as a carrier in the early fifties, at a time when carriage meant £100 per ton. Out of his pile Mr. Black built the Royal, and lost his pile. It was opened in 1855 with the 'School for Scandal.' The old Queen's was then open, and doing well, G. V. Brooke being the attraction. The Queen-street house was good enough for the prehistoric days of Melbourne, but with the discovery of gold and the advent of thousands of gold-seekers, and the success of thousands of these in gold finding, the 'playhouse' erected by John Thomas Smith in the forties was found to be inadequate to the public wants.

When George Coppin (whom God preserve) went to England in search of talent, and found G. V. Brooke, he also bethought him that, being such an expensive star-— £300 a week— and he dependent upon one small theatre, was not, in colonial parlance, good enough. Accordingly he made his way to Birmingham, and entered into a contract with Messrs Bellhouse and Co. to build him in sections an iron theatre, capable of holding £300. Mr. Coppin's first agreement with G. V. Brooke was, I believe, for 200 nights at £50, or a total of £10,000. The theatre was named the Olympic, out of compliment to the theatre so named in which, in 1847, G. V. Brooke made his first London appearance. The Melbournites, however, dubbed it the 'Iron Pot,' though it was as pretty and cozy a theatre as anyone could wish. Brooke, however, did not open it; that honor was bestowed on the Wizard Jacobs, as Brooke was playing elsewhere. In 1856 George Coppin became possessed of the Royal. In that year Brooke and Coppin entered into partnership, before, I think, the original engagement was concluded. They separated in 1858, Brooke retaining the Royal, Coppin taking as his share of the assets the 'Iron Pot' and Cremorne Gardens, at which latter place he did a roaring business. It was then, I think, that Brooke commenced to lose money. As I have pointed out before he was not a business man and relied upon others to look after his interests. At first Richard Younge managed for him, then Robert Heir. Henry Edwards, from Sydney, was engaged in the stock company, and George Fawcett was running the old Princess'. On the failure of Heir as manager, Edwards and Fawcett were appointed. Their management ended in disaster. Ambrose Kyte was owner of the building, and had been called upon on many occasions for accommodation cheques to keep the ghost walking. The failure of Edwards and Fawcett, as managers, was the means of healing a breach that had occurred between Coppin and Brooke, and the former returned to the Royal as manager. Its position at this time was not satisfactory. After giving Burton's circus a show, Wilton had it for a while, and under his auspices, in 1862, Barry Sullivan appeared. In 1863 Sullivan showed what he could do in management, and in 1865 William Hoskins and Clarence Holt joined hands, holding together until 1867, when the theatre came under the joint management of six very worthy stage men — J. Chambert, Charles Vincent, H. R. Harwood, Richard Stewart, T. S. Bellard, and John Hennings, the scenic artist. The six held together, and did well for some time. Each man had his allotted duty in management, and did it. The first break in the six was the death of Charles Vincent, occasioned by an accident, deemed of small moment at the time. He had purchased a horse, and was about mounting to go for a ride when the animal became restive and threw the rider; in the fall one of his hands was injured, lockjaw set in, and the popular husband of Miss Cleveland went the way of all flesh. Mr. Lambert went England and ended his days in the village in which he first saw the light. Tom Bellair went into hotel management. He kept the Rainbow at Ballarat for some years, and died in the principal hotel at Wagga Wagga. Harwood retired, and went on a tour to to India and China, I think. The partnership then became Coppin, Greville and Hennings, and Harwood again joined later on. The old Royal Theatre was burned in March, 1872. The piece being performed on the fatal night was the 'Streets of New York,' the hero of which was played by a very capable actor of those days, James Carden, Miss Eloise Juno also being in the company. Mr. G. R. Ireland and all the members of the company suffered losses in wardrobes, etc. The historic cafe was then in the occupation of the renowned scenic artist, William Pitt, father of the architect of today. Mr. Pitt had for many years kept the Garrick's Head Hotel, opposite the Eastern Market, where his right-hand Hebe was the now Mrs. Roberts, of the Criterion Theatre Hotel, Sydney, but then well known to us youngsters as Miss Polly Smith. The first to discover the fire was Jack Conway, the well-known cricketer, who was smoking a midnight cigar at the window of Sayers' Prince of Wales Hotel, Bourke-street. Six months previously the Haymarket Theatre was burned down, and but a few weeks before the Prince of Wales Opera House, in Castlereagh-street, went under to the same agency. In the seventeen years life of the old Royal there were memories both pleasant and painful. In the seventeen years there were, it might be said, three periods, the Brooke, the Sullivan, and the Montgomery. Mark the distinction between the two pieces, that at the opening 'The School for Scandal,' and that at the close, 'The Streets of New York!' A decadence truly.

As the actors were homeless through the fire, and out of work, and many out of cash, something had to be done for their relief. Among the most attractive efforts to gather in coin was a cricket match on the principal Melbourne ground, the cricketers in costume, and to some extent supporting the characters they sustained. George Coppin appeared as Paul Pry, J. R. Greville as 'A party by the name of Johnstone,' Mr. Hennings as Claude Melnotte, Mr. Carden as Enoch Arden, Richard Stewart as Lord Dundreary, Ireland as Cassio, John Dunn as 'That Rascal Jack,' Appleton as Ronaldo, Roberts as Asa Trenchard, old Jimmy Milne as Mike Feeney, and minor men in various guises. At the time of the fire the Princess' was empty, and the lessee, William Saurin Lyster, offered it to Mr. Coppin and his friends for a short season. Mr. Coppin made a speech — he was always great on speeches — in which he detailed his sorrows. Six years previously he had started life afresh without a sixpence; he had succeeded, but the fire had swept away most of the provision which he had made for old age and a large family. Yet Mr. Coppin re-built the Royal and opened the new venture on Cup night (Cup winner, John Tait's The Quack), 1872, with an address written by Dr. Neild and spoken by Mrs. Collins, then (later on Mrs. H. R. Harwood) nee Docy Stewart. Then followed 'To Oblige Benson' and 'Milky White,' in both of which Mr. Coppin appeared. The company proper was at Adelaide, but Coppin did not wish to miss a bumper house such as always eventuates on Cup night. Since then the fortunes of the theatre have been varied. Many new theatrical ventures have sprung into existence, the most formidable being the gorgeous Princess'.

At the time of the opening of the Theatre Royal (No. 2), the Princess' was in full swing with a strong company under Stuart O'Brien and Miss Jones, heavy tragedy being the order of the night. During the same Cup week a dramatic benefit was given Mr. John Whiteman, who had filled as many parts in life as did the late George Adams. Mr. Whiteman was a blacksmith by trade, and a poet by instinct, his little volume, 'Sparks from the Anvil,' being readable. He had been a publican, and in that, as in other trades, had his ups and downs. On the benefit night Coppin and Stewart appeared; Marcus Clarke wrote an address, which was spoken by John Edwards the younger. Looking over those old bills, one comes across many names now absolutely forgotten, of the seniors George Coppin being about the only one of a long list now remaining; and about this time— 1872 — there arose a controversy regarding 'deadheads,' in which Mr. George Coppin, Morton Tavares, and others took part. The germ of the controversy was as to whether Vice-Regal patrons should not pay for seats occupied in the theatre even on 'command nights.' The Vice Regal delinquent at whom George Coppin was hitting, and hitting mighty hard, was Viscount Canterbury, who in his earlier days was known as John Henry Thomas Manners-Sutton. The correspondence was carried on with some vigor, the theatrical critics, strange to say, siding with the deadheads, from a fellow-feeling perhaps. There was a dramatic association in existence in Melbourne at the time, and the matter was thoroughly threshed out at its meetings. Viscount Canterbury, who appears, from the correspondence, to have been a persistent deadhead, asked Mr. Coppin to send in an account of the 'items,' but this Mr. Coppin declined to do, on the ground that his profession never gave credit. Of this interesting dispute more anon.

(To be continued.)