FAILING to find my services sought by London managers as eagerly as a number of my friends tried to persuade me they should and would be, and being still determined to continue in a profession for which I consider Nature to have bountifully equipped me – not to mention the obvious necessity of earning a living – I came to the conclusion to try a flight into the region of comedy, being largely persuaded thereto not only by the foregoing reasons, but also by the prospect of trying in the provinces a new play by a personal friend, in which I had great confidence, and of which more anon.

The additional temptations also included, beyond the decent living wage, a percentage of the problematical profits, and, as the play to be toured was that pronounced moneymaker The Walls of Jericho, by Alfred Sutro, the problem had every appearance of being solvable, in spite of the fact that in some of the towns selected it was the third, fourth and even fifth visit. These hopes were damped to a certain extent by the heat wave which visited London during the fortnight in which we rehearsed, but I reflected that this damping was only the natural result of our exertion in such weather and could not really affect the result.

We left town on 15th August, with a most excellent company of clever and pleasant people, for Harrogate, where the campaign was to open, and where we naturally found a host of friends eager for some distraction from "the cure."

With a view to adding an additional attraction to the programme, and giving myself perhaps a greater opportunity for distinction than was afforded by the part I played in the piece, it was arranged that I should give a short entertainment before the play, consisting of songs, stories, recitations and an occasional short duologue, in which I had the assistance of Miss Florence Steventon and Miss Trevor-Lloyd on different occasions.

These ladies were respectively the Tiny Mornington and Lady Alethea Frobisher in The Walls, as it was abbreviatively christened by the staffs of the theatres we visited, and the part I selected was that of the mercenary old aristocrat, the Marquis of Steventon, played originally, I believe, by Mr O. B. Clarence; he does rather more to excite the contempt than the sympathy of the audience, which is scarcely a recommendation to a player, but being next in importance to the hero, Jack Frobisher (who is, by the way, a good deal of a prig), which part I did not see myself attempting, appeared to offer the best chance of distinction.

The success of the first night, as far as regards the play, was most pronounced, but my preliminary personal efforts to amuse were received with a certain modified enthusiasm which suggested the idea that the material was slightly old-fashioned; this view was confirmed the following evening, by which time I had effected some radical changes which proved of great advantage.

We followed the usual routine of three nights in Harrogate and three in Buxton, a procedure necessitating a somewhat strenuous day in mid-week; leaving Harrogate fairly early and spending an hour in Leeds en passant we arrived in Buxton at two-thirty, with a band rehearsal in prospect at five-thirty and the night's work to follow.

I occupied myself during most of the journey in lengthening a little musical duologue, called The Lost E Flat, by means of introducing a recitation by a parson who forgets every other line and is prompted by Mrs Vicar; and, Miss Steventon and myself being fortunately quick studies, it was put in the same evening, with happy results; it was also very gratifying to be told by Mr Sylvanus Dauncey, our manager, that our receipts in both Harrogate and Buxton had beaten the previous visit of The Walls; it made the profits seem far less problematical and, in fact, induced a spirit of gaiety which found vent in the composing of a song, entitled "Problematical," which is not yet published.

From Buxton to Birkenhead was a disturbing transition, only made palatable by the solicitude for one's comfort shown by mine host Turner of the Woodside Hotel, whom I had eventually to accuse of trying to make me over-eat, his excuse being that it was a treat to supply good things to an appreciative customer. One of the great charms of Birkenhead is the ease with which one can leave it for Hoylake, Wallasey and other good golf links, while, if excitement is a desideratum, Liverpool is close handy; two or three of us adjourned there on Saturday night after the play, to be most hospitably entertained at the Racquet Club, from where we journeyed home by the ferry at three o'clock to the accompaniment of a chill wind and strong drizzle.

Having some time to wait for the boat we very nearly succeeded in bribing the skipper of a rival line to put us over, but as he was honest enough to admit that he didn't think they would allow his boat to go alongside the landing stage we relinquished the idea, not wishing to do a "round trip" with a possibility of being blown out to sea and landing in New York.

We had a "week out" after Birkenhead, which seemed such a pity, as none of the company intended to go to London, that I suggested a two-night visit to West Kirby on the principle of half-a-loaf being better than no bread, and after a "prospecting" visit we decided to run the risk, with the gratifying result that the half-loaf turned out to have quite a good sprinkling of currants.

I was allowed to go to town for two days on the distinct understanding that I was to return and show myself for two days in West Kirby before we played, a rumour having got about that I was not appearing, though advertised, a trick which, we were informed, had been played there before.

That the rumour undoubtedly existed was speedily proved to me on my return to West Kirby in mid-week according to promise, for at the moment of my appearance for a round of golf at Hoylake the same afternoon I was greeted by more than one acquaintance with such remarks as: "You really are here then?" – "Going to perform in West Kirby?" – "That's good, we hardly liked to believe it." The last remark, seeming to imply a certain slur on this delightful little seaside resort, appeared to me to court an inquiry, the result of which was the disclosure of the name of a well-known artist who advertised an appearance and made no excuse whatever for failing to make it, leaving a hiatus in the cast very moderately filled by a substitute.

We had great trouble in adapting our full-sized scenery to the dimensions of the local hall, and in consequence each "strike and set" took more than double the usual time, with the result that it was past eleven before we came to the last act; I suggested that, to save time, we should play it in the same scene as Act 3, although it took place in another person's house; the management received my suggestion with acclamation, and a few words of explanation from me to the audience produced an evident feeling of relief at the prospect of an earlier release than expected, there being an evident intention to "see the thing through" at whatever cost.

The receipts were said to be the largest taken since the hall was opened, with the usual exception (of course) of the annual amateur charity performance for the glorification of local budding talent.

Actors on tour become so accustomed to spending the major part of each Sunday in a train that my experience of the Sunday following West Kirby would perhaps hardly be regarded as phenomenal, but, to me, was something of a record.

We were due at Southport, and I left Kirby about nine-thirty to go, via Liverpool, to Formby Golf Club, where my old friends, Tait, Ralli and Wellman, were awaiting me for a four-ball match, after playing which I went in to Southport to dress, back to Liverpool for a very excellent dinner, then again to Southport, about eleven, for a bridge-party, which broke up at one-fifteen, this early hour being necessitated by a rehearsal at eleven the next morning; not a bad day for a veteran.

One of the married members of the company, whose wife was also playing in the piece, took advantage of a seaside week to have his little daughter with her nurse down, and also the "granny," and, with this small flotilla in tow, arrived at the rooms he had engaged; the landlady, it appeared, was somewhat unaccustomed to what she termed "theatricals" (a very frequent way of alluding to members of the profession), and had also had a somewhat exciting experience the week before, when her tenant was what she described as a "musical-comedy young woman," who had been visited by a large number of friends not too particular as to the length of their stay, and the cleaning of whose boots she strongly resented. She at first refused to take my friend and his belongings in at all, in spite of the self-evident respectability of grand-mother, nurse and child. It was the wife she had doubts of, and only gave way and admitted the party on receiving an indignant answer from the husband to her. last question, "Will there be many gentlemen after your wife?"

There was a very jealous feeling among Southport residents and visitors just at this time, its object being Blackpool, its healthy rival, whose enterprising councillors had launched into the highly attractive (in both senses) speculation of an Aviation Week.

The great question was: "Why should not Southport, with its unrivalled foreshore, also have a fly?" – and party feeling ran higher than many of the airmen eventually succeeded in doing. Such a subject could not, of course, be neglected in my topical song, and I gave them a local aviation verse, the success of which was a recommendation to the airmen to fall, if they must fall, in the water – if they could find it? For a really (and deservedly) popular seaside resort I believe you will find less sea at Southport than anywhere else, but I fancy that is regarded as one of the features of its many attractions; and the artificial lake appears to more than counterbalance the deficiency, an additional joy being provided in the fragile-looking car, hung on a wire, in which you can be slung across it – if you like.

After so many weeks of "the simple life," the hospitality of my friends in Liverpool must have got into my veins, with the result that I was impelled to give a supper-party at the very comfortable hotel at which I was staying.

With that spirit of delightful reciprocity which in my experience has never yet failed in the ladies of my profession, I found no difficulty in securing a supper partner for each of my male guests, and the result was one of those very cheery evenings which one does not soon forget.

The ladies left us at a discreet hour, and after a few rubbers of bridge we agreed that an early break-up was desirable, my friends being all hommes d'affaires, so accordingly about four-thirty we retired, all of us being very merry, and the most merry of all developing an exaggerated politeness which was highly amusing.

I was much struck with the firm announcements made as to the hour of the next morning's departure of these business men. Two of them declined to be sent off before noon, while the third was compelled to take the earliest train available, but when I came down to breakfast at eleven the virtuous one had not appeared, while the two confessed lie-a-beds had caught the train he had spoken of! This undoubtedly points to the fallacy of making overnight resolutions, and seems to place them in the same category with those of the New Year.

During the next Sunday's journey I attempted to give a lesson, to one or two of the company, on auction bridge, having played it at least once myself and knowing next to nothing of the game and nothing of the rules; my partner was an otherwise very bright lady of the company, but to some extent lacking the card brain, who declined absolutely to realise the enormity of calling "one diamond" because she held the ace single. I happened to have enough to let us get our contract, which was fatal to her chance of ever learning the game, as whenever the incident was alluded to, as a "shocking example," she remarked triumphantly: "Well, it came off, old dear!"

While on the subject of bridge I cannot help wondering if I am alone in remarking an increase, or so it seems to me, in the number of players who seem compelled to discuss the playing of each hand with an acrimonious and dictatorial manner very much to be deprecated. Surely the possession of recognised skill does not warrant the giving of unsought instruction, especially when given in the manner I allude to, and when to this is added the aggravation of such instruction from the brains of a notoriously unqualified exponent, it becomes difficult to bear with equanimity. We are told that example is better than precept, but bad examples appear more easy of imitation than good, and it seems, to put it mildly, unfortunate that so many players are depriving themselves of their enjoyment rather than lay themselves open to the annoyance. Most golfers are strict in their observance of the etiquette of the game, and there is yet to be invented a game more trying to the temper, so why should we not have a printed work on the etiquette of bridge, which we could place courteously in the hands of the transgressor.

In order to thoroughly realise that I was "on tour" I determined to try the experiment of "rooms" when in Cheltenham for the week, leaving the selection to Edwards, the Frobisher of the play, and Lambert Plummer, with whom I proposed a manly ménage à trois; we were waited on by one of the weirdest landlady's daughters I ever encountered, of a certain and uncertain age, a figure about which there was no uncertainty, a habit of wearing, at all hours, a large and dilapidated tam-o'-shanter. She informed us that her name was Mrs Paget, and that she was a widow, whereupon Plummer inquired genially if she were by any chance related to the "wicked Pagets"; she seemed to think she might be, and on the morning of our departure confided to Plummer that she undoubtedly was.

I had my first experience of being driven by a lady chauffeur this week, my cousin, Miss Faithfull, the principal of the Ladies College, being the artist, and evidently a very capable one; some of the residents whom we met on our tour of the town betrayed a certain surprise on recognising her companion, not being aware of our relationship, which amused us both greatly, as we could easily imagine them discussing the unwonted frivolity on the part of a lady of such a responsible position; however, I have not heard since that she has been asked to resign.

Page modified 2 January 2008