1912
An Actor's Notebooks
 

Thanks to the kind recommendation of the Bancrofts, I was selected by Wilkie Collins to play the part of Julian Gray in "The New Magdalen," and was engaged by Miss Ada Cavendish, who was to produce it at the Olympic Theatre on May 19. Up to this time her management had been rather disastrous. "The New Magdalen" was her first money-success. It attracted large audiences, and was played without a break until September 27—about nineteen weeks. Julian Gray was an excellent and most effective part, and the drama had a grip that was irresistible. The ethics of the play were condemned by the press. The "Times "thought that "in the time of our fathers the conclusion of the New Magdalen’s history would not have been tolerated." Matthew Arnold, I believe, always spoke very highly of the play. It had been presented in America by Miss Carlotta Leclercq, who acted Mercy Merrick, before the time of the London production. It was a fortnight or so after its appearance in England that I had the pleasure of lunching with Wilkie Collins at 90, Gloucester Place, Portman Square. There were present also, Squire Bancroft, John Hare, Steele MacKaye, Frank C. Beard—Dickens’s friend and doctor—and Charles Reade the novelist. The latter I had not met before, though I had played the repellent Mr. Meadows in his play, "It Is Never Too Late To Mend," for twelve nights during my second season on the stage. I remember the frank and kindly way in which Reade offered his hand and said: "Here’s a gentleman, I think, whom I ought to know." We fell into talk together about reading and readers, and I happened to mention Le Texier, the French reader, an account of whose art I had met with in Boaden’s "Life of John Kemble." I recall how astonished he seemed to be that I should have heard of him—and indeed at that time I knew nothing of him from any other source. Fanny Kemble’s "Records of a Girlhood" gives an interesting account of his art, which, according to Sir Walter Scott also, was most exceptional. There was at the luncheon much pleasant conversation generally; one subject—Charles Dickens, had a special interest. The impression of Dr. Beard distinctly was, that Dickens’s readings hastened his end. So earnest was he on the subject, that he induced most of us to go round to his house in Welbeck Street, in order to see his professional journal, giving particulars of the state of Dickens’s pulse, before, during, and after his public readings. He took so much out of himself, that the exhaustion that ensued was only a natural consequence. Dr. Beard was summoned to Preston in response to a telegram, and the readings were peremptorily stopped. The attack, Sir Thomas Watson declared, was "the result of extreme hurry, overwork, and excitement, incidental to his readings."
[pp147-148]

…

On Saturday, June 28, there was a musical and dramatic matinée at the Olympic. The music was executed by Gounod, Ferdinand Hiller, Léonce Valdec, and Mrs. Weldon. Aimée Desclé recited "Le Revenant," by Victor Hugo; and Miss Cavendish, Tennyson’s "Charge of the Light Brigade"; Wilkie Collins, who was about to start on a reading tour in America, gave a reading of a "Strange Bed."

He lacked the physique and varied gifts for a public reader, but what he did I thought was earnest and impressive. I afterwards went with Squire Bancroft to the Queen’s Theatre to see "The Happy Land," a burlesque written by W. S. Gilbert and Gilbert à Beckett, in which there was a dance supposed to be executed by Gladstone, Lowe, and Ayrton. It was originally produced at the Court Theatre, and the veto put upon "making-up" the parts to represent the three statesmen added much to its popularity.

On July 17 the Prince and Princess of Wales (the late King Edward and the Queen-Mother) came to see "The New Magdalen." From the Prince I had the honour and pleasure of some kindly words of commendation…

After the run of "The New Magdalen" in London I had an offer to go on tour with Miss Cavendish, which I declined. My country experiences had been rather trying ones, and having succeeded in getting to London, I decided on remaining there. Of course I should have acted in the provinces under different conditions from those which attended my novitiate. A good "part" and a reliable salary were not to be treated cavalierly, and I know the matter cost me much thought and anxiety. The actor who was engaged to play Julian Gray in the country was Robert B. Markby. I met him at the theatre during the rehearsals which were going forward for the tour, when I came to help him by running through the "business" of the part.
[pp151-152]

…

It was when "The New Magdalen" was first produced that I became acquainted with Stefan Polès, whose nationality and origin were something of a mystery. Both Charles Reade and Wilkie Collins had employed him in various capacities, the latter in connection with the business of the play I was acting in. He was of slight build, with a head which betokened much cleverness, and small, searching eyes. He was a skilful linguist, and had the most persuasive, insinuating manners. His zeal was apt to outrun his discretion. He died at the Middlesex Hospital, and his body, I believe, was unclaimed. It was said that he bore a wonderful resemblance to a well-known Russian spy. It was when Wilkie Collins was absent on his American tour that Polès must have been busying himself with plans for a revival of "The New Magdalen." At any rate, theatres were suggested which it seemed to me were quite unsuitable for the purpose. The small Charing Cross Theatre, afterwards Toole’s Theatre, did not seem likely to give the play its best chances of success, as at that time failure had been constantly associated with it. These details will enable Collins’s letter, in answer to two of mine, to be more clearly understood. As a matter of fact, it was revived at this theatre, but not until January 1875, Markby again supporting Miss Cavendish in the title-rôle I was then acting at the Prince of Wales’s Theatre.

BUFFALO, NEW YORK STATE,
January 6,1874
MY DEAR ARCHER,
I have got both your kind letters (dated Dec. 7 and Dec. 16). I entirely agree with you about the Charing Cross Theatre; but a letter from Miss Cavendish—as I understand it—informs me that she has actually taken the theatre, on her own responsibility. Under these circumstances, there is nothing to be done but to "make the best of it." I have written to Miss Cavendish on the subject. For the rest, I can only thank you for your advice, and say that I sincerely hope you will give the experiment the advantage of your assistance by playing Julian Gray. The one thing needful in the interests of the piece is to prevent any possible impression from getting abroad that the revival is a failure. It would be well, with this object in view, to advertise that the theatre cannot possibly be obtained for longer than a limited period.

My "readings" are getting on famously. The one drawback is that I cannot read often enough to make a large sum of money, without the risk of injuring my health. Everywhere there is the same anxiety to see and hear me, but I cannot endure the double fatigue of railway travelling and reading on the same day. Thus three or four days a week are lost days (in the matter of money), but gained days (in the matter of health, and I have suffered enough to make health my first consideration. As to my personal reception in "the States," it has really and truly overwhelmed me. Go where I may, I find myself among friends. From this place I go to Chicago (stopping at certain smaller towns on the way). From Chicago, I go "West"—perhaps as far as the Mormons. This will be my last tour. I propose giving farewell readings early in March, in Boston and New York, and sailing for home during the last fortnight in March. I shall be very glad to hear how this venturesome Charing Cross experiment promises to turn out, if you have time to tell me. My address is, etc., etc. With all good wishes
Yours truly,
WILKIE COLLINS.

On March 21, Collins having returned from America on the 18th, I had luncheon with him at Gloucester Place. He looked bright and well, and was in capital spirits. I met there Mrs. Ward the artist, the wife of the Royal Academician E. M. Ward, and also James Payn the novelist, and at that time, if I remember rightly, the editor of "Chambers’s Journal." He was an energetic-mannered, pleasant man, with a somewhat round and protuberant forehead, and very full eyes. I once afterwards, when he edited the "Cornhill Magazine," submitted a short story to him. Though he "declined it with thanks," he told me why: "It was too melodramatic for the ‘Cornhill.’" My friend, F. W. Robinson, accepted it for his monthly "Home Chimes," of which I shall have more to say. We had some very pleasant particulars from our host of his American experiences, as well as many personal reminiscences of his friend and fellow-worker, Charles Dickens.

Forster’s Life of the great novelist had recently appeared, and with the rest of the world I had been much interested and excited about it. John Forster was severely criticised in many quarters, as it seemed to me unfairly. I asked Collins, who knew him well, if he thought a word of sympathy from me—a complete stranger—would be acceptable. "Certainly," was his answer; "mention that you know me." I did so in my letter, which was in praise of the biography, and in censure of his detractors. Collins, at this time, I think could hardly have had the opportunity of seeing Forster’s "Life," and I doubt whether afterwards he altogether admired it.
[pp156-158]

…

On October 14 I had an offer from the Bancrofts to rejoin them, which I accepted.

Two more enjoyable evenings at the Théâtre Français are all I need give details of. The first, "Le Tartuffe " (Dupont-Vernon, Talbot, Madame Dinah-Felix, etc.); "L’Aventurière " (Maubant, Coquelin cadet, Madame Arnould-Plessy). The second evening, "Les Femmes Savantes" (Delaunay, Coquelin, Coquelin cadet, Talbot, Mesdames Jouassain, Lloyd, etc.), followed by "Le Gendre de M. Poirier " (Got, Berton, Mademoiselle Croizette, etc.).

On October 25 I left Paris for London…. The next communication I had from Wilkie Collins was as follows

90, GLOUCESTER PLACE, PORTMAN SQUARE, W.
Nov. 16, 1874.
MY DEAR ARCHER,
It is only right, in a friendly sense, to tell you that I have accepted a proposal for reviving "The New Magdalen" at the Charing Cross Theatre in January next. I have hesitated solely on your account, feeling the serious loss to the piece of not including you in the cast; but the proprietor of the theatre concedes the guarantee that I have always insisted on in such cases, and I have no alternative (having said No so often) but to say Yes when my wishes are all consulted in the matter—and when Miss Cavendish is willing and ready to try the experiment. I have only to-day announced my consent. The serious question of replacing you—I suppose we must do that, so far as we can!—has not yet been discussed between Miss Cavendish and me. Please keep this little morsel of news a secret for the present (until the cast is settled) from the outside world.
Yours ever,
W. C.
The guaranteed "run" is two months, with four more at our disposal if we succeed commercially.

…It is perhaps superfluous to say that Collins’s appreciation of my rendering of Julian Gray was fully valued by me….

Wilkie Collins’s play was revived at the Charing Cross Theatre January 9, 1875. Here is his letter after the event.

90, GLOUCESTER PLACE,
January 24, 1875.
MY DEAR ARCHER,
My only excuse for not having reported progress to you is that I have been confined to my bed with a violent attack of cold. I am only now able to get out again. Financially we are playing the piece at a profit. The first week’s returns (which are all I have yet seen) are decidedly encouraging—£93 in the house on the first Saturday. Excepting your part, the whole piece is far better played than it was at the Olympic. The Lady Janet (Miss Le Thière) and the Horace (Mr. Leonard Boyne) both really very good, and received with genuine applause by the audience. Miss Cavendish greatly improved, and very successful with the public. Mr. Markby plays Julian quietly and with discretion.

I have no complaint to make. We shall see how we get on. The first week was far better than I had ventured to expect. My week’s fees were at least ten pounds higher than my calculations anticipated. Give my love to Bancroft, and tell him the news "so far, so good."
Yours ever,
W. C.
[pp160-162]

…

The following letter from Wilkie Collins was in answer to a letter asking whether he had anything in view for the theatre.

WORTHING,
July 26, 1876.
MY DEAR ARCHER,
I am wandering about the south coast, and I have only just picked up my letters here, during a stay of a day or two. This is my excuse for not having thanked you for your letter long since. My present plans are of the purely idle sort, I have just finished a story called "The Two Destinies," and I am feeling too much fagged to do any more work for some little time to come. I wish I had something good to offer you, but I must for my health’s sake let my brains rest, and I can only wish you heartily success when you step on a new stage. I hear that your "Russian Prince" was admirable; but I was too ill with the gout to go and see it.
Yours always truly,
WILKIE COLLINS.
P.S. My plans for the coming autumn are to go abroad, I think, and get new ideas among new scenes
[pp183-184]

...

The letter which follows alludes to my project.

90, GLOUCESTER PLACE, PORTMAN SQUARE, W.
March 22, 1877.
MY DEAR ARCHER,
Thank you heartily for the portrait. It is not only an excellent likeness, but, as I think, a finely executed photograph. You are in luck: it is not everybody who is well treated by photography. Richmond (the portrait painter) described photography from his point of view, as "Justice without Mercy!"

Your kind letter finds me just recovering from another attack of gout—not so severe as usual this time. It is needless to say that I shall feel interested in the result of the "Hamlet" experiment.

Your old friend Julian Gray still strolls through the country theatres with Miss Cavendish. He has been translated into Italian, and turned into an austere magistrate. The Italian public won’t have a priest of any sort on the stage! The piece has been a great success at Rome, Florence, and Milan.
Yours always,
WILKIE COLLINS.
[p185]

…

Early in December Sheridan’s "Rivals" was produced by Thorne at the Vaudeville, two clever actresses joining the company for the occasion—Mrs. Stirling and Miss Winifred Emery (Mrs. Cyril Maude)—who appeared as Mrs. Malaprop and Lydia Languish. Sir Anthony and Captain Absolute were the late William Farren and Henry Neville; Acres by the manager; Sir Lucius O’Trigger, John Maclean; Fag, J. R. Crauford; David, Arthur Wood, and Faulkland, myself. Miss Alma Murray was Julia and Miss Kate Phillips Lucy. The comedy was acted for over two hundred times.

Mrs. Stirling (Lady Gregory) I had always known as a true artist. It was no surprise to find that personally she came within my formula, and was a very charming and delightful woman. Her second husband, Sir Charles Hutton Gregory, an eminent engineer, was a son of Dr. Olinthus Gregory the mathematician, who, with his daughter, was known to my father in years gone by—a fact I became aware of after Mrs. Stirling’s death. I never, of course, saw Mrs. Glover act, but towards the end of her career Mrs. Stirling played several parts in the répertoire of her predecessor. Those who had the keenest recollection of Mrs. Glover asserted that Mrs. Stirling’s performance of Mrs. Malaprop was the finest example of old comedy acting left to the stage.

Wilkie Collins sent me the following, after seeing the play

90, GLOUCESTER PLACE, PORTMAN SQUARE, W.,
May 5.
MY DEAR ARCHER,
I most sincerely thank you for a delightful evening. Pray add my thanks to Mr. Thorne for his kindness, and my congratulations on his admirable performance of Acres. He and Mrs. Stirling are comedians in the highest and best sense of the word. And let me not forget Faulkland. You made the most idiotic character on the British stage (written, I am firmly convinced, in some of Sheridan’s most utterly drunken moments), a gentleman in presence and manner—the victim of his own bad temper. If I had been working with you, as in the days of the " Magdalen," I should have protested against a hardness here and there, and a little hurry in elocution (natural enough, having such words to speak!),’ and there is the beginning and the end of my criticism.
Ever yours,
WILKIE COLLINS.
What an excellent audience last night!
[pp242-243]

…

At the end of the year Miss Ada Cavendish entered into an arrangement with Miss Nelly Harris (a sister of Sir Augustus Harris), who then had the Novelty Theatre in Great Queen Street, to revive " The New Magdalen " again, and I was engaged for Julian Gray. Collins writes

90, GLOUCESTER PLACE, W.,
December 20, 1883.
MY DEAR ARCHER,
When I consented to the "revival," the cast depended on my approval, and I expressly stipulated that you should be the first person to whom we applied —if we were lucky enough to find you disengaged. You will now know how glad I am to hear that I am to be helped by my old comrade. Our chance of success depends entirely, in my opinion, on making the public understand that there is such a theatre, and on telling them where to find it.
Ever yours,
W. C.

The first night of the revival was January 5, when the play was received with its old enthusiasm, Miss Cavendish, it being generally acknowledged, acting Mercy Merrick better than ever. Collins sent me the following

90, GLOUCESTER PLACE,
January 8,1884.
MY DEAR ARCHER,
"This delightfully mild weather" unnerves me, and the form of rheumatism, which moderns call neuralgia, follows as a matter of course. On Saturday last I was with you in the spirit—and here in the flesh. On Sunday Mr. Charles kindly called to tell me the good news. In this way I know you did noble justice to your part, and that you were never more entirely and admirably the "Julian Gray" that I only imagined than on that first night of our revival.
Ever yours,
WILKIE COLLINS.

On February 5 he came himself to see the play

February 8,1884.
MY DEAR ARCHER,
A word to tell you that no one among your audience on Tuesday night admired your performance of Julian Gray more sincerely than I did. Excepting here and there a little tendency to hurry in the delivery of the words, your acting was the acting of a true artist throughout—admirable in its quiet dignity and reticence, in its complete freedom from stage artifice, and in its easy, faithful, and subtle presentation of the character. I watched the audience narrowly from time to time, and I always saw the same strong impression produced on them, a far more valuable tribute than conventional clapping of hands. That recognition you received at the right time, viz., when you were called. I had hoped to say this instead of writing it, but I am so busy just now that I can only get away from my desk in the evening.
Always most truly yours,
WILKIE COLLINS.

No communication could have been more gratifying than the above.

On the evening of February 14 the Prince and Princess of Wales, the late King and the Queen-Mother, came to see the performance, with, I think, the Princess Louise and the Marquis of Lorne. The Prince of Wales (King Edward), who came on the stage to congratulate Miss Cavendish, very kindly said some gracious things again to me, and recalled its original production at the Olympic eleven years before. A few evenings later the Duchess of Edinburgh and suite came to see the play. Including matinées, there were sixty-one performances of this, the second London revival.

I had never seen the dramatised version of "The Woman in White," and I asked Collins to let me read it.

March 6, 1884.
MY DEAR ARCHER,
Here is a copy of "The Woman in White " play, sent with the greatest pleasure. As a reader, you will get a better idea of the piece if I send to you (as I do) a copy without the stage alterations. I mean to alter further (before the piece is played again) in the way of simplifying the story if possible. The great fault of the work at present is the intricacy of the story. The one thing to remember with justifiable pride—in the matter of "The Magdalen"—is that we have set an example in the art of the stage which has produced a strong impression, and which was very much wanted at this time.
Ever yours,
W. C.
[pp251-253]

…

I have alluded to a story that I wrote, and which I submitted to the editor of the "Graphic." Charles Green was interested in it, and thought, had it been accepted, of making a drawing for it. It was declined, and there the matter ended until I decided to ask Wilkie Collins whether he would give me his opinion on it.

NELSON CRESCENT, RAMSGATE,
July 20, 1886.
MY DEAR ARCHER,
I have been sailing, and I have just found your letter waiting for me here. Send the story to this address (head-quarters for work after idling at sea), and I will read it with the greatest pleasure. Forgive my Roman brevity in replying. My accumulated letters to answer make me wish I was the famous hermit of Prague, who never saw pen and ink.
Ever yours,
WILKIE COLLINS.

I promptly sent the manuscript, and here is, to me, his kind and valuable letter.

RAMSGATE,
July 23, 1886.
MY DEAR ARCHER,
I have read the story. First I lay down a general principle. Writing fiction successfully is only to be accomplished by taking enormous pains. Now for the application. You must be very much more careful than you are at present in the matter of style. Look at your first paragraph, and the marks which I have made on it, and you will see what I mean. When you have seen, cut out the first paragraph. It is quite useless. The right beginning of the story is at the second paragraph. Again! The central interest in your story is in the walk across the heath, and in what came of it. You are too long in getting to this—and the frightful consequence follows—you will be "skipped." Also you are a little too jaunty and familiar with the reader about your matrimonial prospects. If he once gets the idea that you are not in earnest, good-bye to the effect of your terror in the heath scene.

Once more! When you are rescued, the interest of your story is over. Fewer particulars as to the fortunes of the characters will prevent more "skipping." In a short story—if you were Walter Scott himself—you cannot interest the reader in character. Now for a word of encouragement. The incident of the dog is excellent. It is so new and so true (as far as I know) that it throws all the other incidents into the shade. If I had been writing the story I should have dwelt on the dog’s character in the earlier part of it, so as to interest the reader in " Nap’s " habits and doings on the ordinary occasions of his life. Said reader, puzzled and interested, would feel that something was coming in relation to that dog—would not have the least idea what it was; and when " Nap " enters on the stage and acts his grand scene, would be so amazed and interested that he would talk of the story to his friends, and "the editor" would be your obedient humble servant in the matter of future work. (N.B.—I would not describe "Nap" as being in his second childhood. No dog—and especially no big dog—in that condition would have rescued you. Make him old—and no more.)

The other incident of the lay figure is ingenious, but there is this objection to it, it has been done before, and more than once done. Keep it, by all means. I only mention my reason for giving it a secondary place in the composition.

I will wait to offer you an introduction to a periodical until I see what you can do on a larger canvas. The price paid for short stories by authors not yet in a state of notoriety is so miserably small that I am really ashamed to mention it. If you think you can do something with a one-volume novel, pecuniary results might be more satisfactory.

A last word of advice before I say good-bye. Study Walter Scott. He is beyond all comparison the greatest novelist that has ever written. Get, for instance, "The Antiquary," and read that masterpiece over and over and over again.
Ever yours,
WILKIE COLLINS.

It is not every one’s good fortune to get such a painstaking, clever, and kindly opinion of a first effort. It is almost needless to say that every one of the suggestions was duly carried out, greatly to the advantage of the tale. I had read it to Robinson, and told him my intention of trying the "Graphic" with it. "If they don’t take it, let me have it for the ‘Chimes,’" he remarked; and in a letter subsequently he says: "It will be very good news to me to hear that it is coming out in the ‘Graphic’ with Green’s sketches. I fancy it will, and if otherwise (hang the otherwise!), send on the MS to me."

…I gave Robinson the criticism of Collins on the story, and he replied, "Wilkie Collins is evidently a brick. I wonder if he had any idea that the lay figure comedy sequel jars a little bit with the sensational start. But it is a very fair first tale as it stands, and I shall be curious to see what comes of your revisions." I made them, and it duly appeared in "Home Chimes."

Wilkie Collins’s letter has given more prominence to my story than it deserves. Many evidences of goodwill and kindness I experienced from the author of " The Woman in White." His advice, introduction to publishers, review of the plot of a story, and so on, were always most willingly at my service. His next letter touched on my play collaboration.

90, GLOUCESTER PLACE,
Nov. 10 1886.
MY DEAR ARCHER,
Thank you for your kindly inquiries. . . . I am like the old posting horses in the old posting days. While I was whipped my pace was wonderful. Now we have got to our destination my head hangs down and my fore legs tremble. But, considering that I was twelve hours a day at work for the last week of my labours, I have no reason to complain of my constitution, though I was sixty-two years old last birthday. "The School for Scandal" and "The Rivals" are still alive, and "Jim the Penman" has been a great success. MORAL: Don’t be afraid of the idiotic decision [?] of an audience, and think of the people who are sick of farces in three acts.
Ever yours,
W. C.
P.S.—"After Dark" and "The Queen of Hearts" contain my shorter and better stories. In the latter book there is a story called "Mad Monkton" (written ages ago), which had the honour of keeping Scribe in a breathless condition. He prophesied all my later success from that little specimen when I was presented to him in Paris.
[pp279-283]

…

MY time was after this pretty fully occupied by efforts with my pen. I have spoken of Wilkie Collins’s invariable kindness in the way of help and advice. I sent him an invitation, which was not wholly disinterested, as I wanted his counsel over a little matter of literary business. There is no other reason for giving the letter which follows, except that it was the last communication that I ever received from him, and led to a pleasant chat we had together two days afterwards at his own home.

90, GLOUCESTER PLACE, PORTMAN SQUARE,
December 5, 1887.
MY DEAR ARCHER,
Forgive this late reply to your kind letter. I have been away—a fugitive from worries and a victim to work. For the next month to come I must be chained to the desk (with intervals for exercise), or I would gladly propose a day for accepting your kind invitation. In the meantime, I have an hour’s rest between four and five, when a friend is always welcome. Can you kindly look in on Wednesday afternoon next and keep me company with a cigar? If Yes, don’t trouble to write. If No, pray choose your own afternoon later, and let me have a line to say which day.
Ever yours,
W. C.

The advice alluded to he willingly gave me on that Wednesday afternoon when I dropped in on him. And we afterwards had some agreeable gossip on literary and theatrical matters. It was pleasant to hear him speak in praise of his confrère F. W. Robinson. He knew and valued his work as a story writer. We turned to Bulwer, whose cleverness in the capacity of novelist and playwright he thought undoubted, though apropos of "Richelieu" he remarked, "I never could conceive him talking blank verse."

In speaking of the novelist’s and the dramatist’s art, he held that they were absolutely distinct, and approached from different sides entirely. He instanced the different treatment of his own "Woman in White "in novel and in play. In the latter the audience learnt the secret in the first act. "The great difficulty of a play," he exclaimed, "is the scenario." Speaking of fitting actors, he said: "I never could write a play for a particular company." On the subject of the older plays, he said: "How good the ‘Rivals’ is—Sheridan was wonderful." He agreed with me that it wanted genius to produce pure comedy. "What a splendid thing," he went on, "is ‘The Road to Ruin.’ How fine that scene between old and young Dornton. Curious that Holcroft’s other plays should have been so poor." He mentioned Mr. Rider Haggard’s "King Solomon’s Mines," which he had read with great pleasure. He preferred it, he said, to "Jess," by the same author. "I assure you," he continued, "I hurried from a meal to take it up again." Then he sounded once more a high note of praise over Sir Walter Scott, and was impatient with a public which did not read him as it ought to do. Collins, alluding to his first or one of his early novels, said: "There was a man who came down upon me heavily, and prophesied that I should never make a novelist. Many years afterwards I met him, and we had a hearty laugh over his prediction. Though I must honestly say," he said, "the story was anything but a good one. The scene and period of it were very remote." I suppose his allusion was to "Antonina, or the Fall of Rome," though he did not tell me so. We fell into talking over actors of the past—John Kemble and Mrs. Siddons. The latter, he had a firm conviction, must have been a very grand actress. What follows does not, of course, prove anything, as very indifferent actresses can be copious in tears, but he mentioned that Macready once told him that when he was acting with her in Home’s "Douglas," although she had played the part of Lady Randolph hundreds of times, he felt her tears fall on his face freely in the scene they were acting together. Collins was an idoliser of the elder Farren. He particularised his acting in "Secret Service." "In Michel Perrin," he said, "he was finer than the original Bouffée." There is little doubt, I think, but that Planchée’s clever adaptation gave greater opportunities than the musical play from which it was taken. Collins told me that he got Peake, the dramatist, to introduce him to Farren one evening. They entered into conversation, and he was disappointed at finding him so extremely stupid. From every account that we have he was a wonderful artist, but I had heard before stories of his ignorance on general matters. I had it from an actor who knew him well that Farren was under the impression that Iago, whose military grade was "ancient" (or ensign), must necessarily be an old man! While we were talking of Bulwer, Collins remarked that he thought his friend Fechter’s performance of Claude Melnotte in "The Lady of Lyons" was remarkably fine. We spoke of Paris. "I never visit it now," he said; "it has become a sad place to me from the many friends I have lost there." This led on to the subject of French actors—Regnier, whom he knew and valued. "How splendid he was in ‘La Joie Fait Peur.’ Do you know, I think he must have helped Madame de Girardin a great deal with that little play; she did not seem successful with much else."

"Coquelin? Yes, I admire him very much; his Duc de Septmonts in ‘L’Étrangère’ was excellent. But to me," he continued, "the cleverest of the Français actors is Got. Coquelin was, you know, a pupil of Regnier. His master always had a high opinion of him, but thought his main defect was too great a loudness. Lafont was another actor whose art was a great enjoyment to me. How I regret that I never saw our own Edmund Kean act. I think the greatest acting, though, I ever saw was that of Frédéric Lemâitre. He was wonderful!"

"Do you think," I asked him, "that the account given by Dickens of his acting in ‘Thirty Years of a Gambler’s Life’ is a true one?"

"Certainly," he replied. "It is not one whit exaggerated. Dickens and I saw the play together, and at the end of one of the acts we were so utterly overcome that we both sat for a time perfectly silent!" Collins then mentioned his father, the Royal Academician, and Sir David Wilkie’s friend, whose pictures, he thought, were but rarely in the market. "Constantly," he observed, "I get work submitted to my judgment which is said to be his, but the paintings are always spurious." Speaking of his health, he said; "The gout which I have told you I have suffered so much from I suspect that I’ve inherited from my grandfather. I wrote a great deal of ‘The Moonstone’ when I was in fearful pain. Weather? Yes, it has a great effect upon me. Cold, frosty weather I delight in, as you know, but fog and damp make me suffer acutely." Though our conversation had not, to repeat a familiar jest, "ended in smoke," we had chatted on over the cigar he promised and talked of the habit we indulged in. "At one time I used to smoke continuously," he said, " but now it is a rare thing with me—it keeps me from sleep." I thought him looking very well, though I fancied he stooped a little more than was his wont. We said "Good-bye" after our pleasant talk, and parted with a hand-shake, which was fated to be our last. I never saw Wilkie Collins again. He died September 23, 1889 in his sixty-fifth year, and was laid to rest in Kensal Green cemetery—a good-hearted, loyal, and a very truthful man. But the valued friend of Dickens could scarcely have been otherwise.
[pp300-304]

From Frank Archer An Actor’s Notebooks – being some memories, friendships, criticisms and experiences London [1912].

go back to biographies list