Interesting Relics of Old Theatres

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 80, 25 June 1927, Page 22

Interesting Relics of Old Theatres

Search for Old and Valuable Playbills PRICELESS COLLECTION ■Writing in the “Daily Mail ” a London correspondent gives some interesting netos of a collection of old theatrical playbills. Many people novo make a hobby of collecting these souvenirs. A quarter of a century ago a young girl received the strange present of a bundle of old playbills. She explored It curiously; she discovered treasures of forgotten romance in the timemellowed, ill-printed sheets, of thin paper which brought to life plays and players dead and gone; and she resolved to search the whole world, if need be, for as many playbills that remained to tell the tale of the English theatre from the time when Peg Woffington was enslaving all men’s hearts to the days when playbills gave place to the modern ‘programmes.” That quest, which began as a hobby, has resulted in the formation of an unusual collection of theatrical relics. Nearly 100,000 in Collection The collector is Mrs. Gabrielle Enthoven, herself a playwright, whose passion for the theatre has led her to present her collection of nearly 100,000 playbills to the Victoria and Albert Museum, South Kensington, London, where selections from it are just now being specially exhibited. Nell Gwynne, the lovely tormentor of the gay King Charles, Mrs. Siddons, Mrs. Kennedy, and many other famous “stars” shine agani in Mrs. Enthoven’s playbills. Harsh Criticism for Mrs. Siddons We see Mrs. Siddons appearing for the first time—at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, on December 29, 1775. She took the part of Portia in “The Merchant of Venice,” and, as was the custom in those days in regard to first appearances, she made her bow to the public merely as “A Young Lady.” Such was the description of her on the playbill. By all accounts of the critics her performance was a complete failure. One writer actually declared—with what appears to be more than a spice of malice—“ Mrs. Siddons as Portia proved a terrible fiasco; her voice was weak, her movements were awkward, her dress was old, faded and in bad taste.” Yet this same “Young Lady” was soon to have the adoring world at her feet! When Dame Ellen Terry Was Eight There is another bill which mentions the first appearance of an actress who became as famous as Mrs. Siddons, and who is still living—Dame Ellen Terry. The scene was the old Princess’s Theatre in Oxford Street, now but a mere ghost of a theatre masquerading as a furniture warehouse. The play was “The Winter’s Tale.” and the date April 28, 1856. Dame Ellen was then only 8 years old, and, she played the part of the boy Mamillius. The great Charles Kean himself was Leontes. A Large Sheet to Unfurl The playbill used by the audience on that occasion measured 2Jft. wide and 19in. long! The example preserved in Mrs. Enthoven’s collection has specially been autographed by Dame Ellen. While she busied herself, helped by two assistants, with thousands of playbills yet to be catalogued—though the task of arranging them has already ocupied 15 months—Mrs. Enthoven told me how she had gone “playbill hunting.” “My quest took me into places ranging from the big auction rooms to dingy little second-hand shops in unsavoury parts of London,” she said. “On many an occasion I have had to ‘hold the baby’ while the mother has turned out boxes crammed with all kinds of queer relics of other days in the hope of being able to find a few playbills for me. Often I have rummaged among the contents of the barrows of Hoxton dealers, and ever and over again I have made valuable finds while doing so. “Important playbills have come to me,in unexpected ways. For example, that of the performance of Tlie Merchant of Venice’ in which Mrs. Siddons made her first appearance, a priceless bill, was brought to me in a big bundle of old playbills by a jovial sailor. Where he had discovered them I do not know to this day. Giving Information “Some of the old bills were bigger than a page of a newspaper, and although they might have been rather inconvenient to handle they certainly gave a good deal more information about the plays and players than the modern programmes supply. “One of my particularly interesting finds was the bill for the first performance of ‘Clari; or The Maid of Milan,* at the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, on May 8, 1823. It was in this that Sir Henry Rowley Bishop put to music ‘Home, Sweet Home,’ which was written by an American, John Howard Payne.'*

Four of Allan Wilkie’s original Australian company are now playing in London —Marie Key, the Wellington girl, Jack Kirby, of Dunedin, Anthony Clarke, of Tasmania, and Dorothy Seacombe. All of them have appeared in New Zealand. The scene of “Good Friday,” the Canterbury College Dramatic Society’s forthcoming production, is set in a paved court outside the Roman Citadel at Jerusalem. The story tells, indirectly, of the Saviour’s crucifixion and its effect upon Pilate, his wife Procula, and the Roman Legionaries. The producers, Professor J. Shelley and Miss Neta Billcliffe, have spared no pains to make this an outstanding dramatic piece. Last year the society did Shaw’s “The Devil’s Disciple.” “Measure for Measure,” which Allan Wilkie says he will revive during the New Zealand tour, has never been much of a success on the stage. Many stars, including the great Mrs. Siddons, have impersonated Isabella. Laura Addison played it at Sadler’s Wells under Sam Phelps, when Billy Hoskins (destined to be a great Australian favourite) was Lucio. This was in 1846. Adelaide Neilson was the Isabella of a London Haymarket production in 1876. with Charles Warner (here in 1889-90) as Claudio. Asche and Lily Brayton did it at the Adelphi in 1906. Two hundred would-be dramatic producers from the provinces visited Lon-, don recently, learning how to put plays on their amateur stages to the b€*st advantage. Many of them came from country villages, where there are women’s institutes and clubs which produce little plays during the winter months. Edith Craig, Ellen Terry’s daughter, and a recognised authority on producing, selected the # following three test pieces for the students, whom she herself instructed: “Thirty Minutes in a Street,” an attractive comedy. “Everyman,” the morality play. Trial scene from “The Merchant of Venice.”

When the British Drama which organised the “Producers’ School,” announced the scheme it was expected that the number of students would be sufficient only to supply double casts for the plays, a complete group of understudies, and stage staffs.

Prince Danilo of Montenegro, who has lived for some years past in France, is bringing an action for libel in the Paris courts against an American film company for exhibiting a film under the title of “The Merry Widow,” which he considers to be insulting to himself and to the Royal Family of Montenegro. He has enlisted the services of M. Paul Boncour as counsel. A Prince Danilo figured in the wellknown musical comedy which bears this title, but it is alleged by the plaintiff of the film scenario, who is understood to be a former officer of che Austrian army, lias departed considerably from the original version, and has represented the Prince Danilo in the film as a drunken debauchee, whereas in the musical comedy he was a pleasant young man, to whose behaviour nobody could take objection. It is further pointed out that the Italian, Czecho-Slovak and Yugoslav Governments have all recognised the offensive character of the film, and have prohibited its exhibition.

Mrs. Enthoven mentioned that now that rich Americans were taking an interest in them it was becoming increasingly difficult to buy old playbills. “Bills which I picked up a few years ago for €2 or £ 3 would now i'etch £3O or £.40,” she said. “One American collector once offered me £9,000 for my collection.” Half-time Prices It is not generally known that in the old days there were special “half-time” prices at the London theatres. These are mentioned in many of the bills which Mrs. Enthoven has rescued. She told the story of an irritable but famous iFish actor who was annoyed by the entrance of the “half-time” audience just as he was “dying” in s. particularly moving scene. “Confound them! The second house are coming in!” he roared. “Why can’t I be allowed to die in peace?”