Press Clippings for the week ending
Saturday, 12 October 2002

A random selection of cuttings
from newspapers and magazines

* * * * * * * * The New Barmaid, Avenue Theatre, London, 1896

Lottie Collins

(photo: Morrison, Chicago, circa 1893)

‘The purveyors of musical farce are working steadily through the list of female occupations, and must, at this rate, presently exhaust it. The Gaiety Girl [i.e. A Gaiety Girl], that most exquisite and fascinating incarnation of the Eternal Feminine, headed the procession. Then came The Lady Slavey, The Shop Girl, [An] Artist’s Model. Now it is The New Barmaid who exerts her witcheries upon us; and in due course, no doubt, we shall fall under the spell of The Little French Milliner, The Pretty Type-writer, The Pet of the Post Office, The Belle of the A.B.C. [i.e the Aerated Bread Company, whose chain of inexpensive London tea-shops were then becoming popular], and who knows how many more? One can also foresee incursions into the Peerage, resulting in a chromatic scale of heroines, from The Dear Duchess downwards; while The Missouri Millionairess could not fail to be extremely attractive. It is hard to recall one’s fancy from this Dream of Fair Women, "peopling the hollow dark, like burning stars"; but even now, I doubt not, a score of blithesome librettists are hard at work materialising them, and before the century is out we shall see them, one and all, defile across the stage. In the meantime, The New Barmaid claims our homage at the Avenue Theatre [12 February, 1896; transferred to the Opera Comique, 6 June 1896]. She is a reasonably sprightly and decidedly tuneful young person, and her morals, you will be pleased to learn, are irreproachable. A captious critic might object that she is not very much of a barmaid; but that merely shows that the authors, Messrs. Frederick Bowyer and W.E. Sprange, are well in the literary movement. The reign of realism, as every one knows, is over. We are now all for poetry, the ideal, the spiritual; and here we have the poetry of the beer-engine, the romance of the tap-room. Need I say that the New Barmaid turns out to be a “born lady” and entitled to hold up her head among the noblest in the land? She is the long-lost daughter of a – no, not of a Clergyman – but of a Colonel, a real, live Colonel. She proves her claim to this proud position by singing the Indian Lullaby with which her ayah used to soothe her infant slumbers; her father takes her to his marital bosom, to the confusion of the villainess who had usurped her place; and the hero’s haughty mother, a lady of rank and title, withdraws all opposition to their union. We are here, you observe, in a region infinitely aloof from the mephitic atmosphere of the problem play. Here is no probing of social sores, no morbid anatomy, no suburban psychology. Our craving for the ideal is satisfied, and life seems the brighter and the better for our too brief vision of these pure women and brave men. We leave the theatre with a new sense of chivalrous reverence for the ministering angels of the refreshment-room, vividly reminded of one of those simple, fundamental facts which, in the rush of modern life, we are apt to overlook – to wit, that, for aught we know, any one of the ladies who so gracefully dispense the hospitalities of [the caterers] Messrs. Spiers & Pond may at any moment prove to be the long-lost daughter of a Colonel. ‘The farce, in sober earnest, is a fair enough specimen of its class. The story is absolutely null and void, and the dialogue is exceedingly flat; but the songs are written with a good deal of point, and Mr. John Crook has set them to some spirited rhythms. Moreover, the tone of the piece is not by any means so alcoholic as the title might lead one to expect. As such things go, indeed, it is quite inoffensive. Miss Agnes Delaporte, as the New Barmaid, sings very prettily, and strolls agreeably through the action. Miss Lottie Collins, as a lady journalist, does her turns with that aggressive and irresistible physical energy which is the main secret of success on the music-hall stage. There you have in a nutshell the difference between dramatic and music-hall art – the one tends, as an ideal, towards self-suppression, the other aims at, and frequently attains, the maximum of possible self-assertion, In Miss Lottie Collins it is of course music-all art that we look for – and she sees that we get it. The comedians, Mr. [John L.] Shine and Mr. [J.J.] Dallas, work hard, and with success, to keep the audience amused. To Mr. Dallas is assigned the pleasing duty of putting the German Emperor in his place, and holding out the laurel-branch, so to speak, to Dr. Jameson. Mr. Harrison Brockbank plays the hero very handsomely and sings well, and Miss [Edith] Denton does some effective dancing.’ (William Archer, The Theatrical 'World' of 1896, Walter Scott Ltd, London, 1897, pp.35-38)

'Pinkety Pankety Pank!'
John L. Shine as William White, Lottie Collins as Dora,
and J.J. Dallas as Bertie White in a song and dance from
The New Barmaid, Avenue Theatre, London, 12 February 1896

(Daily Graphic, London, February 1896)

* * * * * * * * Gymnasts, singers, dancers… and cacti, at the Royal Aquarium, London, 1900 'At the Royal Aquarium the programme will be reinforced to-morrow [3 September 1900] by the introduction of a number of fresh performances. These include the Jones-Amonda-Lupino troupe of pantomimists; the Three Smalleys, in their smart triple bar act; Garford’s amusing dogs and pigeons; Ovah and Undah, in a gymnastic ring act; Nellie Dixon, serio and dancer; Laurie Wallis, transformation dancer; and Cissie Tysall, a serio comic and dancer. These, with the lengthy programme already in vogue, including a popular series of [moving] war pictures, constitute a most attractive entertainment. A novel and interesting display of Cacti and Succulent’s [sic] on an unprecedented scale will open at the Aquarium next Wednesday. These plants, of which there will be over 200 varieties on view, range from one inch to five feet in height, and come from California, Mexico, South America, the Cape, and various islands. A great novelty will be the paperspined cacti from South America. Some of the varieties take as long as 150 years to grow, and weigh as much as six tons when fully developed. Such a show has not before been presented to the public. It will remain open ten days.' (The News of the World, London, Sunday, 2 September 1900, p.4c) * * * * * * * * The Russian Ballet, Coliseum, London, 1918 'A New Work, Delightful Old Music, and a New Star at the Coliseum. 'Two huge audiences welcomed the return of the Russian Ballet to London at the Coliseum yesterday. 'In the afternoon the familiar Cleopatra was given, with Mme. Tchernicheva in the name part, Mr. Miassine as the Slave, and Mme. Lydia Lupokova the new first dancer to dance the Bacchanale. She made a great impression. 'She had a better chance of displaying her individuality in the evening, when The Good-Humoured Ladies was given for the first time. It is a condensed version of a comedy of Goldoni with music by Scarlatti, selected and scored by Signor Tomassino. It is a merry carnival frolic in which many pairs of lovers get mixed up, and finally arrange themselves aright. There are no supers in it. It throws a new light on the possibilities of combining grace with humour in dancing, and the music is delicious. 'Mme. Lupokova as a soubrette was the life and soul of it all. She has a style of her own, and expresses perfectly by every pose and gesture the most irresponsible high sprits doing the most difficult things as if they were natural. Mr. Miassine was also full of gaiety, and two new agile and eccentric dancers, with the no less eccentric names of Woizikovski and Idzikovski respectively, were much applauded. (The latter is already called the Hitchi Koo for short by the staff). 'During the season, which will last six weeks at least, six or seven new ballets will be produced.’ (A.K., The Daily News, London, Friday, 6 September 1918, p.2d)

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© John Culme, 2002