Press Clippings for the week ending
Saturday, 16 August 2003

A random selection of cuttings
from newspapers and magazines

Alhambra; or, The Three Beautiful Princesses, a burlesque extravaganza by Albert Smith, Princess's Theatre, London, 21 April 1851

Robert Keeley (1794-1869), English actor

(photo: Heath & Beau, London, 1862-63)

'The Easter piece of this house is from the pen of Albert Smith, and founded on the tale of the three beautiful Princesses in Washington Irving's Alhambra. The opening scene is "Brompton-square by Moonlight," in which locality Mrs. [Robert] Keeley is wandering in search of a subject for burlesque. She meets a merry party of fairies, and Asmodeus ([Richard] Flexmore), from whom, by turns, she solicits assistance. The suggestions of subjects, which have all "been done," are made in rapid succession, when, as a last resource, Asmodeus offers to take a trip to Spain to solve the difficulty. Mrs. Keeley retired, Asmodeus mounts aloft in his balloon, and we are conduced to the Land of Romance by a panorama, which is unfolded perpendicularly on a roller, and thus gives the balloon the appearance of a continual ascent. The first view is a very effectively-painted picture of the Crystal Palace and London by night. Then follow views of Dover, the Channel, Calais, Paris, and a valley in the Pyrenees, until we come in sight of the Alhambra and the Sierra Nevada. The panorama, always a very popular source of entertainment, was much and deservedly applauded. The story now begins, and we are introduced to Mohamed (Mr. Wynn), the ancestor of his namesake at Brighton, but now King of Granada. The right-hand man of this left-handed monarch is a renegade Hussein Baba (Harley), to whose delivery are entrusted the witticisms of the piece, and some comic songs, all which told with great point. The three lovely daughters of the King are vigilantly guarded by their parent, and with success, until the appearance in the drama of the three Christian knight captives, respectively personated by Mrs. Keeley, and Messrs. A[lfred] Wigan and [Robert] Keeley. The Princesses yield to the ardour of their glances and daring of their love, and assisted by Kadiga (Miss Robertson), they effect an escape from the Alhambra, and by the possession of a magic carpet, they are enable to defy their father, and wed their lovers. To fill up this outline are not only the adjuncts of pretty scenery and gorgeous costume, but a great quantity of fun, created by the ceaseless drollery of Flexmore, as a pet monkey of the Princesses', and the ridiculous evolutions of Keeley and Wigan, as two street mountebanks. An imitation of Mr. [William Charles] Macready, by Mr. Wynn, was also amusing, and there is some pleasing music selected, and nicely sung, by Miss [Mary] Keeley. The piece goes off triumphantly, and we expect it will prove one of the most successful of the Easter novelties. Mr. Bouccicault's lively comedy of Love in a Maze, still continues to attract.' (Weekly Dispatch, London, Sunday, 27 April 1851, p.10b) * * * * * * * * On Wilson Barrett's Theatrical Fund Dinner speech, London, June 1883

'When you next advertise the virtues of the actor, Mr. Wilson Barrett,
be sure you don't get out of your depth!'

Wilson Barrett (1846-1904), English actor manager

Among Barrett's greatest successes was his portrayal of Wilfred Denever
in Henry Arthur Jones and Henry Herman's drama, The Silver King,
which was first produced at the Princess's, London, on 16 November 1882.

(caricature by Alfred Bryan,
The Entr'acte, London, Saturday, 14 July 1883, p.9)

'I promised last week to refer again to the speech made by Mr. Wilson Barrett at the Theatrical Fund Dinner. Well, I have no doubt that it effected its purpose, though at a cost of glorifying an improvident section of the community who, I fancy, are already too much patted on the back. I suppose Mr. Barrett, in the position he held at this banquet, was somewhat compelled to be sentimental. Logic seems invariably to be vetoed at these gatherings, and the arguments advanced with the idea of showing that the actor is a person neglected by the public, though they may be applauded by an audience composed solely of theatrical people, will not for a moment hold water when judged apart from the surroundings of an alms-asking dinner. 'As I have before said, I have a great respect for Mr. Wilson Barrett; he has won his prominent position in a strictly honourable fashion, and has declined to stoop to some of the clap-trap devices which are adopted by persons in the same walk, in their exaggerated efforts to obtain notoriety. Enjoying this good opinion of Mr. Barrett, I could wish to find him employed in regenerating the improvident actor, rather than in finding excuses for him. Mr. Barrett would be only doing his duty if he insisted in inveighing against the extravagances of the acting profession, before making the public to do for the actor what he has an opportunity of doing for himself. 'Mr. Wilson Barrett is what I should call an excellent business man, but his speech at the Fund dinner was the speech of a pure and simple sentimentalist. He argued as if the public paid nothing for their theatrical entertainment. Now, I am under the impression that not only do they pay, but that they pay an exorbitant price, for their stalls or whatever seats they may have at the theatre. 'Mr. Barrett wishes reasonable people to believe that after they have paid whatever price managers may be pleased to charge for seats in their theatres, they are still indebted to those who have furnished the entertainment, and supports this unsound theory by using these words: - "You are not of those who say, 'When I have paid for my admission to the theatre, my debt to the actor is cleared.' The pleasure, the mental profit, the influence upon a man's future, that a good book may give, cannot be paid for by the current price of a volume," &c. 'This, I can't help thinking, is a most unfortunate utterance, one which distinctly shows that Mr. Barrett would argue that actors should enjoy advantages that are not meted out to authors. We pay for our book; it is our own, and we can always keep it by us. The author does not pretend for a moment that he has a further claim upon us after we have bought his volume; and why the actor who, Mr. Barrett even admits, confers pleasure and mental profit in a "lesser degree," should imagine that a public who have paid for all that he has given them should be expected to "fork out" again because he happens to have squandered what they have already given him, I have never been able to understand. 'At the time Mr. Henry Irving and Mr. Edwin Booth were play[ing] in Othello at the Lyceum [in May 1881], Mr. Irving raised his stall tariff by just one hundred per cent., making the usual half-sovereign seats fetch one pound. Of course, this was an exceptional case, and I am only quoting it to show that the most eminent of our actor-managers are in their business arrangements actuated by commercial motives. The ordinary price for stalls at our West-end theatres is ten shillings, but if managers thought for a moment that the public would pay a pound, it is tolerably certain that to a sovereign complexion the stalls would very soon come. 'Nobody can dare argue that actors are inadequately paid. People pay ten shillings to see Mr. Irving in Hamlet, and yet they can purchase the whole of Shakespeare's plays and sonnets for nine-pence. Does this look as though the actor were a victim? 'There is always a great emphasis laid upon the generous impulses of the actor. These I have always found to be among those mythical institutions which are very often talked about, but very seldom seen. There are many open-handed and generous actors, of course; but the bulk do not lay down where there is no chance of taking up. I think it will generally be found that where actors mix with the members of other professions, that they are not often accused of out-Heroding Herod in that operation which, in vulgar parlance, is known as "parting." '"I know many actors," said Mr. Wilson Barrett, "and good ones, too, who are often out of employment nine months of the twelve, and through no fault of their own." This reveals a very sad condition of things; and I wonder at managers, who know that such a state of affairs exists, not giving employment to these unfortunate people in preference to those fashionable amateurs who are just now infesting the stage. 'I have not the smallest desire to do an injustice to the actor, but, in discussing this case, I cannot choose even for his benefit to become an unreasoning child, whose eyes are shut to everything like fact. If there is a great amount of distress in the acting ranks, there is some reason for it, and it is only right that we should know where the cause lies before we take steps towards applying a remedy. It is tolerably certain that many of our managers make immense fortunes by catering for the theatre-going public. Do these fortunate ones do that for their unlucky brethren which they, in after-dinner speeches, declare the needy ones deserve? The reasons lies either here, or in the improvidence of the actor; and I am disposed to think that in three out of every four cases the actor is at fault by living beyond his means. 'As Mr. Barrett says, the actor's life is a very precarious one. Who should know this better than the actor himself; and, being thus persuaded, why should he not do something towards providing for that rainy day which he knows to be inevitable? Why should the actor squander his income, and then expect a too-indulgent public to give him back that which he has thrown away? 'To improve the improvident actors' morals, something more must be done than begging the public to believe his condition is brought about by too great a generosity; let him be taught to be self-reliant, and let him understand that every appeal made on his behalf is nothing more than an excuse for his inability to support himself. It is quite iniquitous to tell the actor that he is badly used, for – in the first place – it is untrue; secondly, it encourages him to lean for support on a prop which a man in possession of a desirable amount of self-respect would, I should say, like to avoid. 'It is high time that this sentimental bubble, which is now and then blown for the benefit of the actor, should be made to lose those prismatic colours, and take its position as a commonplace in the soap-dish of fact. And if managers are really under the impression that numbers of good actors are out of employment nine months in the twelve, rather than encourage those projects which entice fresh sheep to the Thespian fold, they should in common honesty strive their utmost to prevent new victims immolating themselves upon such an altar. 'I should like Mr. Wilson Barrett tell the actor his duty, rather than try to find excuses for him.' (The Entr'acte, London, Saturday, 7 July 1883, p.5a/b) * * * * * * * * Disturbance at the Alhambra Theatre of Varieties, London, 1886 Marlborough Street Police Court 'Disturbance at the Alhambra. – William Black, described as a barrister, was charged with disorderly conduct inside the Alhambra, Leicester-square, and with assaulting George Browning, an ex-superintendent of police. – Browning said he was employed to keep order at the Alhambra Music Hall. His attention was called to the prisoner, who was sitting on the railings of the orchestra, and indulging in periodical shouts of "Hoo, hoo," and other discordant noises. Witness stood by his side for several minutes, and as he did not desist, he remonstrated with him, saying, "May I ask you to discontinue that noise; it does not become a gentleman here." Prisoner instantly said, "I will smash your hat," and suiting the action to the word, knocked his hat off and sent it rolling on the floor. Whilst bending down in search of it, the prisoner struck him a violent blow on the right eye with his fist, and blackened it. He seized him sharply by the shoulders and held him back, and whilst in that position the accused raised his stick – a heavy weapon – and gave him a severe blow over the left temple, and he would have inflicted further violence had not some of the audience interfered and prevented him. The stick was taken from him, and, a constable being called, he was given into custody. – In cross-examination, Browning said that he was not in uniform when he spoke to the accused. There were servants [of the Alhambra] in livery, but they were otherwise engaged at the time. There was nothing to indicate that he was an officer of the establishment except in his manner. No one else would have ventured to speak to the prisoner as he did. He addressed him in a friendly and gentle manner, but still with authority. He was not aware, he was happy to say, that the kind of noise made by the prisoner was generally indulged in when a certain Highland reel was danced. The ballet [Le Bivouac, with its 'Irish jigs and Scottish reels alternating with English dances and hornpipes,'] was on at the time. – Mr. Mansfield doubted whether he ought not to deal with the prisoner severely, and send him to prison for a considerable period. However, he would inflict a fine, and that would be the highest amount he could impose – namely, £5.' (The News of the World, London, Sunday, 3 October 1886, p.7b) * * * * * * * * Walter E. Perkins in My Friend from India, United States of America, 1896

Walter E. Perkins

(photo: unknown, probably New York, circa 1896)

'Walter E. Perkins, an excellent photograph of whom, in the title rôle of My Friend from India, is reproduced [above] in this issue of The Mirror, has won no inconsiderable fame this season by his original and unique interpretation of a character entirely new to the stage. His work is marked by a quaint and unctuous humor that few comedians possess, and it has earned for him unusual and unstinted praise from both press and public. A. Keene Shaver is a rôle that is totally unlike most of those presented in comedy.' (The New York Dramatic Mirror, Christmas Number, New York, 1896, p.70b) * * * * * * * * The Sisters Archer's brother granted a licence to appear with them at the Star music hall, Bermondsey, 1899 'Mrs Sipple, mother of the Sisters Asher, well-known music hall duettists, applied to Mr Slade, at Southwark Police-court on Monday [7 August 1899], for a licence authorizing her infant song, Michael Joseph, to appear at the Star Music Hall, Bermondsey, in the chorus to his sisters' song "The Cake Walk." Replying to questions by the chief clerk (Mr Nairn) the applicant assured the court that, although he looked pale, the child was strong and healthy. He had been previously licensed, and was only on the stage five minutes. Incidentally, Mrs Sipple mentioned that her boy was named after the lamented "Two Macs," Mike and Joe, now both deceased. He was born into the music hall profession, and had a good singing voice, and much enjoyed his little turn. Attired in correct evening dress, it was his duty to follow his sisters in their perambulation of the stage, and to sing a coon ditty. The licence was granted.' (The Era, London, Saturday, 12 August 1899, p.19b) * * * * * * * * The Klein Family of trick cycle riders at the Hippodrome, London, 1902

The Klein Family of trick cycle riders

(photo: Otto Renard, Düsseldorf, circa 1902)

'Since the opening of the Hippodrome, Marcelline [the clown] has scarcely ever been "out of the bill." He is the unqualified delight of the "grown ups" as well as of the children. A favourite turn, too, with the latter, is the Klein family who ride on single wheels without seat or handle-bars, and go through musical rides, pretty evolutions, and acrobatic dexterities, while the eldest member of the family, a youth presumably of some sixteen years, revolves on his hind wheel, takes his machine to pieces as he rides, and turns a somersault over the saddle before reseating himself. A little black boy supplies the comic element of this turn with much success.' (The Playgoer, London, Friday, 15 August 1902, p.265b) * * * * * * * *

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© John Culme, 2003