f 
 
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UforncU HttittKrattg ffiibrarg 
 
 FROM THE 
 
 BENNO LOEWY LIBRARY 
 
 COLLECTED BY 
 
 BENNO LOEWY 
 
 1854.1919 
 BEQUEATHED TO CORNELL UNIVERSITY 
 
__ Cornell University Library 
 
 PR 5175.P56Z7 
 
 Watts Phillrps:artist and playwright.By 
 
 3 1924 013 535 632 
 
The original of tiiis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013535632 
 
WATTS PHILLIPS 
 
 ARTIST AND PLAYWRIGHT. 
 
 E. WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 "WITH PORTRAIT, AND NUMEROUS FAC-SIMILES OF 
 SKETCHES AND ILLUSTRATED LETTERS, 
 
 CASSELL & COMPANY, Limi'ii:d: 
 
 LONDON, PARIS & MELBOURNE. 
 1891. 
 
 [all rights KESERVEI).} 
 
'^ebicateb 
 
 ■ TO 
 
 SIR FREDERICK MJLBANK. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 When the idea was first suggested of a Life of 
 the late Watts Phillips, or rather a narrative of 
 his career as artist, novelist, and dramatist, the 
 notion was regarded with much doubt. Though 
 he held rank among the successful dramatists of 
 his day, his plays had been for so long unacted 
 in London, that it was feared the public might 
 take but little interest in the book. 
 
 The splendid revival, however, of " The Dead 
 Heart" by Mr. Henry Irving, proved that Watts 
 Phillips's name was not lost in oblivion — a fact 
 that was pleasantly corroborated by the circum- 
 stance that many of those who were present on the 
 first night of its production at the Lyceum had 
 also witnessed the drama's "first night" at the 
 Adelphi under the management of Mr. Benjamin 
 Webster. Therefore, the Life was at once taken in 
 
vi WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 hand, with a resolution to overcome all probable 
 difficulties, the number and amount of which, in 
 the case of collecting materials, were by no means 
 inconsiderable. Nevertheless, the book is at last 
 an accomplished fact. 
 
 I gladly seize this occasion to express my deep 
 indebtedness to Mr. Percy Fitzgerald for the kind 
 assistance and valuable help he has rendered in 
 the arrangement of this record of my brother's 
 artistic and literary life. 
 
 My sincere thanks are likewise due to Sir 
 Frederick Milbank and Dr. Ord, who, on learning 
 that letters, drawings, etc., by Watts Phillips, were 
 required, most generously placed the sketches that 
 they had preserved at the writer's disposal, thus 
 supplying, it may safely be affirmed, one of the 
 greatest attractions of the volume. 
 
 The sketches which are interspersed throughout 
 the book, with fac-similes of letters attached, will 
 speak for themselves ; for the most part they have 
 been placed irrespectively of the text. 
 
 The producing of fac-similes of the letters that 
 accompanied the sketches has been considered 
 unique. Not only are they likely to add to the 
 
FBEFAGE. vii 
 
 interest of the volume, but also to assist in giving 
 some insight into the artist's temperament. 
 
 A high sense of humour and deep pathos were 
 equally blended in Mr. Watts Phillips — ^the comedy 
 and tragedy embodied in his dramatic works — the 
 laughter created by a "William Kite," " Mr. Aspen 
 Quiver," or "Bottles" — and the higher order of 
 feelings appealed to in a "Robert Landry," or "Job 
 Armroyd." 
 
 Of the serious vein, such as that displayed in 
 
 " The Reaper of the Harvest," there will be found 
 
 no specimen in this volume ; but the humour of the 
 
 plate, "As it used to was," has been considered 
 
 . worthy of the inimitable humourist Tom Hood. 
 
 Attention may also be more particularly directed 
 to the "Noble Tartar," " Swanage," and "My 
 Castle " letters, and to the picture representing the 
 dramatist climbing the greasy pen to procure the 
 family mutton. 
 
 More delicately treated, but not less humorous, 
 are the sketches of "A Quiet Family Disturbed," 
 and " The Hare's Toast," the animals in which are 
 scarcely, if at all, inferior to those of the great 
 French animal artist, Granville. 
 
viii WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 Another plate recalls the period when the artist 
 drew the, cartoons for the weekly paper, Diogenes, 
 to which further reference will be made. The 
 sketch was prophetic of the result which so speedily 
 followed. 
 
 As a delineator of " Cupids," Mr. Phillips might 
 be termed a master ; while the plates illustrating 
 "Bird or Heart Catching" and " Health," prove 
 that the graceful delicacy of the idea equalled the 
 graceful and delicate touch of the pencil. 
 
 It may not be out Qf place, to mention that 
 several of the sketches^chiefly the humorous ones 
 to his doctor (Dr. Ord) for whom he entertained a 
 sincere affection — rwere drawn during the silent 
 weary watches of the night, when pain banished 
 sleep. 
 
 The present illustrations have been carefully 
 selected as fairly representing Mr. Watts Phillips's 
 artistic talent, but they are only a few of the many 
 with which he so lavishly and generously favoured 
 those whom he held and esteemed as his friends. 
 
 Among the possessors of these are Mr. Edmund 
 Yates, Mrs. Stirling and Mrs. Rochfort ("Miss 
 Herbert"). The vestibule of the Madison Square 
 
P BE FACE. ix 
 
 Theatre, in New York, the writer has been 
 informed, " is hung round with pen-and-ink- 
 sketches" by Mr. Phillips, "beautifully framed," 
 and the fac-simile of two letters to Edward 
 Sothem appeared in the New York magazine, The 
 Theatre, date February 7th. 
 
 It has also been deemed best, in order not to 
 break the thread of the narrative by an over- 
 crowding of letters bearing chiefly upon one period, 
 to place in an Appendix those others that are 
 characteristic of the writer, and likely to interest 
 the reader. 
 
 This book, which has been prepared with much 
 care, anxiety, and — may it be added ? — affection, is 
 now launched on the sea of public opinion, arid it 
 is earnestly asked of those friends, who yet remem- 
 ber him to whom it refers and with kindly feelings 
 recall his memory, to help ensure it the hon voyage 
 which is wished it by 
 
 E. W. P. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP, 
 
 I. Early Life of Watts Phiilips— His Fiiist Play 
 
 II. "This Dead Heart" 
 
 III. "Paper Wings "—Hopes and Fears — "Theodora" 
 
 IV. On Ghosts— a Filial Letter^-" The. 'Forty-five'' 
 y. Disappointment 
 
 VI. SoTHEiiN — " Theodora " and other Projects . 
 VII. Ebtirement to Eden Bridue ....'. 
 VIII. Return to Town — Failing Health and Death . 
 Appendix 
 
 PAGE 
 11 
 
 32 
 
 63 
 
 79 
 
 89 
 
 105 
 
 118 
 
 134 
 
 157 
 
"WATTS PHILLIPS: 
 
 ARTIST AND PLAYWRIGHT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 EAELY LIFE OF WATTS PHILLIPS — HIS FIRST. PLAY, 
 
 In the following pages will be found an account 
 of a not very, eventful life, which is interesting as 
 the story of a gallant struggle against chequered 
 fortune and the many difficulties which beset the 
 course of the adventurous litterateur. The outside 
 world knows little of Watts Phillips beyond the 
 fact that he was the author of some successful plays, 
 such as " The Dead Heart," so recently revived 
 at the Lyceum ; but this was only one incident in 
 the troubled career of a really brilliant, energetic 
 man, who had many gifts and accomplishments, 
 with a cheerful, undaunted spirit, which to the last 
 helped him to encounter trials, and a vein of 
 humour which was as much at the service of his 
 friends as it was at that of the public. His story 
 
12 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 is further interesting as illustrating the unsuspected 
 drudgery which even now, more than ever, attends 
 the course of the hard-working " literary man "—^ 
 that old tale, in short, as Mr. Forster calls it, " of 
 garret toil and London loneliness," when "the 
 hod " must be carried, and the spade plied, and no 
 "job" can be declined. Old Grrub Street audits 
 system still flourishes ; and we hear nowadays of 
 the "twenty-five thousand words" exacted for a 
 wage of five pounds and less. 
 
 Watts Phillips, however, was inspired by a 
 genuine love of work, and, always versatile and 
 ready, could write novels for the circulating 
 libraries as well as studies of London life 
 for larger and more appreciative audiences ; he 
 was poet, artist, dramatist, critic, caricaturist,' 
 comique, and an admirable, spirited, natural letter 
 writer. It is significant of his cheery character 
 that he expended his happiest and most brilliant 
 conceits in these letters to his friends ; whereas 
 humourists of greater note have been careful to 
 economise their wit and put them aside for "copy." 
 These gay effusions, it will be found, are of much 
 interest from their spirit and liveliness, and may be 
 a surprise for many who, after witnessing " The 
 Dead Heart," have come away with the idea that 
 
THE PHILLIPS FAMILY. 13 
 
 its author was merely one of the ordinary working 
 dramatists. These light, irrepressible, natural 
 efforts have in fact suggested the idea of the story 
 that follows, which is no formal "Life," but an 
 unpretending account of the hopes, fears, and 
 struggles of this bright and buoyant character. 
 
 The family was of Irish extraction, his great- 
 grandfather Phillips having oome from that coun- 
 try. A great-uncle of the father was a water- 
 colour artist of repute, familiarly known as " Twi- 
 light Phillips," from a work which he had written. 
 The grandfather on the mother's side when a 
 youth had a passion for the stage, and, unknown 
 to his parents, who had a stern, Calvinistic horror 
 of players, obtained an engagement at a local 
 theatre, where in time hfe filled leading parts. 
 His sister used to let him in at the window on his 
 rettirn. One night his father was induced to go 
 and see a highly promising young actor, and, to 
 his astonishment, in the George Barnwell of the 
 night, recognised his son. He instantly quitted the 
 house and required the youth to give up the stage 
 or be turned out of doors. The latter alternative 
 was accepted, and the young fellow obtained an 
 engagement at Drury Lane. On his way to town 
 
14 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 he met a young woman in a coach, with whom he 
 fell violently in love, and having offered his hand, 
 it was insisted as the condition of acceptance that 
 he should give up the stage. It must have been 
 unwelcome to learn that what was refused to 
 parental authority was readily yielded to love. 
 
 "Watts Phillips's father was in commerce in 
 comfortable circumstances, and had married a 
 lady named Watts. ♦ Their son, the subject 
 of this memoir, was born in November, 1825. 
 When a child he showed a strong taste for books 
 and study, as well as for sketching. He did not, 
 however, care to apply himself to the regular course 
 of his school ; but, when his parents expressed 
 their wish that he should try and distinguish him- 
 self, he quietly replied ''that if they wished him 
 to win the prize he would do so," and without 
 much effort succeeded in gratifying their wishes. 
 All kinds of miscellaneous literature he " de- 
 voured," and he had a habit of adorning the 
 margins of' his books with sketches and caricatures, 
 admittedly of promise. 
 
 Being now a young fellow established in 
 London, his inherited taste for the stage began 
 to show itself. He read and re-read the old dra- 
 

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 />K caV^-a. /^«X- /i<^»>Jt. ^T" "^"^^ • 
 
 / 
 
 ^^^^7| 
 
"BEHIND THE SOENES." 15 
 
 matists, Ren Jonson, Marlowe, and others; wks 
 introduced to the theatres, and to "the world 
 behind the scenes." He became acquainted with 
 the leading actors, and determined himself to 
 become an actor. Mr. Serle, who died recently, 
 and was then acting manager under Macready at 
 Drury Lane, undertook to instruct him in elocution, 
 and assured him of success. He was on friendly 
 terms with the once attractive Mrs. Nesbitt, who 
 encouraged him in his professional hopes. Indeed 
 he seems to have possessed the invaluable gift of 
 attracting friends and acquaintances, for we find 
 him, almost at starting, though a youth, firmly 
 established in the leading theatrical coteries. He 
 was found to be an entertaining, pleasant young 
 fellow, full of " cleverness." With the genial and 
 grotesque Buckstone he was a special favourite.* 
 
 He was already cultivating his literary taste, 
 and was particularly interested in artistic criticism. 
 
 * He could venture on sucli liberties as the following. In the 
 " Kiss in the Dark," the actor, on a sort of raised platform, was 
 exclaiming "Listen to my tale of woe," when his friend, who had 
 concealed himself behind, kept " prodding " the actor's leg with 
 a pin, to his -annoyance. Angry expostulations, "Be quiet, you 
 fool ! " were mingled with " listen to my tale of woe." It is 
 curious now to imagine such want of discipline behind the scenes. 
 The same kind of incident is related of Elliston. 
 
16 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 He was also studying painting, practised, the art 
 of etching, and acquired a facility in humorous 
 sketching and airy caricature. Such facility did 
 he find in this last department that he began to 
 have doubts as to the wisdom of the choice of 
 profession that he had made. When the time for 
 his debut drew near, which was to be at Edinburgh 
 — he had already purchased his wardrobe — his 
 father urged serious objections, and in conse- 
 quence he hesitated, taking the pros and cons once 
 again into serious consideration. The father then 
 offered, if he would abandon his purpose, to appren- 
 tice him regularly to the popular master of carica- 
 ture, George Cruikshank, with a view of learning 
 the art and craft of illustration of books. As the 
 real inclination of the young man lay in this 
 direction, he no longer resisted, and abandoning 
 the stage, entered with ardour on the study of his 
 new profession. 
 
 Cruikshank, an old friend of the family's, was 
 glad to be of service to them in this way. His 
 dramatic illustrations to " Oliver Twist" were then 
 (1837) attracting equal admiration and astonishment. 
 He had found a pupil of extraordinary promise, 
 who, had he devoted himself seriously and without 
 distraction to study, would certainly have made 
 
THE 0ARI0ATURI8T8. 17 
 
 a reputation. At" tliis time caricature enjoyed 
 an extraordinary favour. The public was not then 
 accustomed to a regular weekly budget of fun and 
 humorous sketches, but each absurdity as it occurred 
 suggested a hasty but spiritedly drawn satirical 
 etching, duly coloured, which drew crowds to the 
 shop- windows. A sort of pictorial story was 
 equally relished, a small tract; or series of gro- 
 tesque incidents, with a line or two of ludicrous 
 description under each plate. There were scarcely 
 half-a-dozen professors of this style — ^the Cruik- 
 shank Brothers ; Robert Seymour, inexhaustible in 
 his sketches of Cockney sportsmen ; " H. B.," or 
 Doyle, who confined himself to politics; Heath, 
 and one or two more. 
 
 Another " shop window '' artist of much spirit 
 and versatility was Aiken, a dozen of whose 
 sketches, brilliantly coloured, were issued on a sheet. 
 The drawing was admirable, correct, and finished. 
 The text appeared above, below, and in all sorts of 
 corners. The Cruikshanks followed the ancient 
 precedent left by the Grilrays and Rowlandson, 
 of making the sentence issue from the mouth of 
 the figure. 
 
 At this time Phelps, one of the conscientious re- 
 formers of our stage, was educating the honest 
 
18 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 natives of Islington to the appreciation of sound 
 acting, and good old pieces. It is pleasant to think 
 of his phenomenal success, and the performances at 
 Sadler's Wells will always have a place in the 
 records of the stage. The young man was attracted 
 to Phelps; the grini tragedian made him his 
 friend, consulted him on his plays, and adopted 
 his suggestions in their production. They further 
 joined in preparing various pieces of the old dra- 
 matists, such as '' The Fatal Dowry," " Eide a 
 Wife and have a Wife," and the rather untractable 
 "City Madam." These were the palmy days 
 of Sadler's Wells (1844), and the experiment 
 excited much sympathy and interest, though it 
 scarcely turned out profitable. The young man, be 
 it recollected, then not twenty^ was also adopted 
 into some lively coteries that included Mark 
 Lemon, the Broughs, Mayhews, Albert Smith, and 
 Douglas Jerrold; and, to secure or maintain his 
 xeoeption, he must have been able to produce his 
 patent of wit and vivacity. 
 
 He was now so encouraged by his progress 
 under Cruikshank's teaching that he formed a plan 
 of going over to Paris, and of learning what he 
 could from the French caricaturists, then admittedly 
 the first in this line of art. It may be suspected, 
 
7 
 
IN PARIS. 19 
 
 however, that his mercurial nature was attracted 
 by the sketches of student life in the Quartier 
 Latin drawn by his friend Albert Smith in the 
 " Adventures of Mr. Ledbury." This visit to Paris 
 introduces us to the pleasant series of letters written 
 with afEeetion and vivacity to his family, and which 
 minutely records his life and adventures. 
 
 The incidents of his journey to Paris he de- 
 scribes at great length, but with a pleasant enthu- 
 siasm : — 
 
 " How shall I excuse myself to our mother, yourself, 
 and all the others, for not having written a few lines before 
 this ? Truth is the best apology and the one I am most 
 accustomed to, therefore I own that from the time I iirst 
 landed at Havre to my arrival in Paris, I have been so 
 engaged wandering about from one place to another as 
 scarcely to find time to eat, much less fill a sheet of paper 
 with disjointed scribblings, too often only interesting to 
 the party who indites them. 
 
 " As regards my sea voyage I have but little to relate, 
 excepting that the passage was a rough one, and I was too 
 late on board to secure a berth ; consequently passed the 
 night on deck. This I cared not a jot for, my internal 
 department— to my unspeakable pleasure and astonish- 
 ment — remaining perfectly quiescent, and I found the man 
 at the wheel — an old seaman — a most eccentric individual 
 — a sea Epicurus, who considered the ' art of enjoyment 
 was the end and aim of existence.' 'My children shall 
 never ' desire my death for the money they be like to get 
 
20 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 said he ; ' for if at the week's end I should find enough in 
 my pocket to buy a quid of 'bacca, why I'm a traitor to my 
 principles. That's my philosophy.' To a remark of mine 
 he responded, ' It's aU very well, you know, for the clergy 
 to talk of a hereafter and revelations, arn't it their trade ? ' 
 
 "I girded up trunks and departed for Rouen par 
 diligence. The journey was a most pleasant one. Seated 
 in a coupd I chatted with the conductor, a capital fellow, 
 who, understanding a little English (Heaven knows where 
 he picked it up !), rattled away at a fine rate. He certainly 
 was most amusing, nodding and winking right and left at 
 every female face that chanced to catch his eye, as we 
 clattered through the villages, evidently, by his own 
 account, on intimate terms with one and all of them. He 
 lied through thick and thin in an off-hand style Mun- 
 chausen himself might have envied. There was not an 
 inch of road but he knew its history, or something relating 
 to it. Indeed, he gave me a brief digest of the history of 
 Normandy, which certainly possessed one merit, that of 
 novelty, for he informed me that the Normans conquered 
 England about three hundred years ago, and moreover 
 prophesied, ' without meaning offence to Monsieur, oh, no ! ' 
 that the like feat would be repeated, ere long, solving all 
 my scepticism with an ease and nonchalance that led you to 
 believe that politics were not so difficult a business after 
 all ; at least in his hands they ceased to be prosy — a talent 
 which many a statesman might cultivate with profit. He 
 was so agreeable a companion that I parted froni him with 
 regret. There is nothing that gives a cigar such gusto as a 
 fine country road and a droll coachman to chat to. I 
 wished . at the time that my governor had been seated 
 beside me. 
 
THE QUABTIEB LATIN. 21 
 
 " The country all the way was beautiful ;. but Upper 
 Normandy and Southern England are as like each other as 
 two dominoes. Had it not been for the houses that dotted 
 the landscape, and the remembrance of a fifteen and a half 
 hours' voyage, I could have fancied myself still at the other 
 side of the Channel, but the houses, that look so reH and 
 white against the green fields or shadowy foliage, their 
 gilded vanes glittering in the sun, when once seen cannot 
 easily be forgotten. There is scarcely any difference in 
 their architecture for miles after leaving Havra They are, 
 one and all, Noah's Arks — ^yes, the Noah's Ark of our 
 childhood." 
 
 Having settled himself in the capital he lost no 
 time in securing a master. He presented himself 
 to Aubert, the publisher of Gravarni's works, and 
 showed him his sketches. The publisher en- 
 couraged him, saying that he could make five or 
 six pounds a week in Paris. He hired a studio, 
 sharing it with two other artists, and set to 
 work. 
 
 In 1846 we find him pursuing his studies, full of 
 enthusiasm, and, being a pleasant, vivacious young 
 fellow, soon made friends on the boulevards, and in 
 the Quartier Latin. This sort of companionship 
 was not improving for a youth thus cast improtected 
 upon the great world of Paris. With Gavarni the 
 caricaturist he was much delighted, and his free 
 
22 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 and happy method of sketching was founded chiefly 
 
 on that of Gavarni's. 
 
 At this time the French caricaturists and artists 
 exhibited a wonderful freedom and mastery in the 
 use of lithography* This brilliant and delightful 
 art has, in England, fallen more and more out of 
 fashion, until it has almost disappeared. No one 
 can have an idea of what fine lithographic work is 
 capable until they have seen the ordinary illustra- 
 tions of works of "luxury" issued in the days of 
 Louis Philippe. What is so surprising are the 
 rich effects, the depth of tone, the elaborate and 
 delicate workmanship; It was in immense favour 
 as a medium for portraits, and for those innumer- 
 able " galleries" of political persons and others which 
 were then in fashion. To thLs day, it would seem 
 that the Charivari adopts the same medium, which 
 allows the artist the dash and freedom of the 
 crayon. 
 
 After a short visit to England he returned 
 once more to Paris to witness the revolution of 
 1848, of which he furnished some vivid sketches. 
 He had even a narrow escape of his life. Some of 
 the revolutionists, hearing that there was an 
 Englishman in the house, paid a domiciliary visit, 
 and, when they were refused admittance, dis- 
 
J^ /eitVi/X ^w /eLj^€~ ^tty£l*Ji^ Arrt-JLc A'^>f<. Aj^ 
 ^2 ifif^ o^^nny.aAt- 
 
THE. REVOLUTION OF '48. 23 
 
 charged their muskets through the panels of the 
 door. But through the kindness of the concierge's 
 wife he had previously contrived to make his 
 escape. On this hint he thought it prudent to set 
 ofi for Boulogne to wait events. But he took much 
 to heart this interruption to his studies, and 
 anxiously sought his father's advice as to what he 
 should do. 
 
 " There are two steamers," he wrote, " commissioned Jsy 
 Government to be in this port so as to be ready to take off 
 the English residents in case of need, but Boulogne appears 
 very pacific at present. If you think I had better remain 
 here for some little time, please let me know at once. 
 When I am sure of the ;f)Osition England means to adopt, 
 and know that Paris is quiet, 1 can return. The reason 
 I ask your advice is that my prospects there seemed so 
 promising, the engravers and publishers so much in want 
 of artists, that I am loth to throw up such a chance, having 
 received some excellent offers, which this unfortunate 
 revolution has hindered my accepting. I do not see, if 
 England rest quiet (which the French fear she will not, but 
 hope she will — the men of France, I mean), why I may not 
 return in a month and resume studies." 
 
 The result was that he proceeded to Brussels, 
 where he stayed but a short time, and returned to 
 England in 1849. He at once turned his talents 
 to profit, and was engaged by Mr. David Bogue to 
 furnish him with comic sketches, presenting a story 
 
•24 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 — a form of publication then in fashion. Such 
 was " The History of an Accommodation Bill," 
 " How we commenced Housekeeping," " The 
 Bloomers," and " A Suit in Chancery." These 
 trifles exhibited at least spirit and cleverness. He 
 presently returned to Paris, with the view of 
 placing himself under Paul De la Roche, and, I 
 suppose, " going in " for the grand style. 
 
 Mt very dear Mother, 
 
 Imagine tow very anxious I have been for news 
 from home. The long silence made me think all kinds of 
 pleasant things, the more so, as Annie's late epistle gave so 
 melancholy an account of father's being attacked by the 
 enemy of the human race — lumbago. By-the-bye, whether 
 from sympathy, leaving off my flannels, or both, I know not, 
 but I've had some severe twinges in the joints. They have 
 now left me, for which I thank God ! but ' for aU. that I 
 have received ' I am anything but thankful I frequently 
 hope that father's bulletin is equally good, but between you 
 and me, my dear mother, I think Providence might 
 arrange things better by conferring such little favours as 
 rheumatism, tic doloureux, etc., upon the rich and lazy, 
 whose longest walk is from an easy-chair to a sofa, and 
 spare a man (like a friend of ours) who endeavours to make 
 his life an illustration of perpetual motion. Methinks I 
 hear the curses, both loud and deep, with 'which the 
 governor welcomed his unexpected, and decidedly un- 
 welcome visitor. 
 
 Still, I dare not complain, I reckon now or never is 
 
VISIT TO BRUSSELS. 25 
 
 father's time for head work. No fear of our wanting sub- 
 jects of conversation when we meet; give him rein and 
 leave him to himself, and I'll always bet a hundred to one 
 on the Favov/rite. That's very respectful for a son to a 
 father, isn't it ? Never mind, " honi soit qui mal y pense," 
 and that will not be you, oh, kindest and best of mothers ! 
 That both of you may never pluck anything but heartsease 
 in the " Garden of Life," is the fervent wish of your very — 
 HuUo, stop ! I'm not going to finish yet, I've ten minutes 
 to the good, and when we do meet, though but on paper, 
 I'm loth to say the parting word. 
 
 Paris is very agreeable at present, not too warm. I'm 
 rather duU, being unable to fix myself till I commence 
 regularly my struggle for fame. Ah ! with what pride 
 shall I lay my first painting at your feet, and may I always 
 find as kind-hearted a critic ! 
 
 I've lots of acquaintances here (mark the word ! — as for 
 friends, Cowper and I agree upon that point), who are very 
 civil ; but I want to get to work — real, and weU directed 
 work — and before I return to England I trust to be able to 
 stand alone. 
 
 To all at home, I know not what to say, so shall follow 
 poor Cordeha's example "love, and be silent." I should 
 care little where it might be — Australia, . New Zealand, 
 Paris, or Seven Dials, so that we were always united in 
 person and in heart, for 
 
 " No matter where our fate may guide us. 
 If those we love are still beside us." 
 
 With these two homely, but pleasant lines, I leave you. 
 After spending some time in Brussels pursuing 
 
26 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 his studies, the young artist returned to London. 
 His father, after a serious illness, died, and his 
 son soon found himself thrown entirely on his own 
 resources. For a time he tried to " earn a living'' 
 by illustrating slight ephemeral works, and was en- 
 gaged on a newly-launched comic paper, Diogenes, 
 intended as a sort of rival to Punch, and long since 
 extinct ; very many of the cartoons were of his 
 design. This also furnished him with an oppor- 
 tunity for exhibiting his skill in another depart- 
 ment, and he discovered that he had a turn for 
 writing lively satirical sketches, which were likely 
 to bring him more profit than the exercise of his 
 pencil.* At the time there were a number of clever 
 young men, the Brothers Brough, the Mayhews, 
 Edmund Yates, and others, who were busy 
 depicting the humours of the town. These were 
 his friends and associates, and he speedily enlarged 
 the circle. 
 
 " In the year 1854 or '55," as one of his 
 friends recalls it. Watts Phillips wrote " The Wild 
 Tribes of London." It was a fair history of 
 London slums, dealing with both Ratcliffe High- 
 ■W^ay and Seven Dials. One Travers dramatised, and 
 
 * Such were " Thoughts in Tatters : by the Ragged Philo- 
 sopher " — a quaint title. 
 
Co<^' 9-^ y^- A^/r cJ2 ^^^^ 
 
 <y. 
 
 /^^/'CJ^e aJ<fyf4'a//UC/ ' /tr^Ju. k/g7tf 
 
 
 d'/un 
 
 Y- 
 
 7 
 
FIRST 8UG0ESSES. 27 
 
 played it, under its original title for the City of 
 London Theatre, Norton Folgate, then under the 
 joint management of Messrs. Johnson and Nelson 
 Lee. • The piece was very successful, and the 
 author sold the acting right to the proprietors for 
 £7 10s., and they sold it to "Barney Egan" for the 
 Queen's Theatre, Manchester, for £20, and made 
 over to him the right of acting it in Manchester, 
 Hanley, Chester, and Wolverhampton. 
 
 While thus industriously engaged in literary 
 work, his connection with theatrical coteries 
 naturally attracted him to the stage and the 
 work of the stage. He had completed several 
 dramas, one upon a French subject, " Joseph 
 Chavigny, or Under his Thumb," whose chances 
 of acceptance by the managers seemed remote 
 enough. But a fortunate accident of a very 
 unusual kind favoured him. He had given the 
 piece to a well-known theatrical copyist, Mr. 
 Hastings, to be transcribed. This person, depart- 
 ing from the mechanical tradition of his tribe, read 
 as he copied, and was so interested in his work that 
 he showed it to Mr. Webster of the Adelphi, as the 
 very striking production bf a young writer that 
 was worth his attention. The manager read it, 
 and was pleased. We may imagine the surprise 
 
28 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 and delight of the young author when, instead of 
 receiving back his drama fairly copied out, he was 
 invited to a personal interview with Mr, Webster, 
 who promised to produce it. The manager, who 
 seems on this occasion to have behaved like one out 
 of a fairy tale, even asked for other works, and be- 
 fore he had experimented with " Joseph Chavigny," 
 actually purchased two more of the young writer's 
 pieces, ''The. Two Strollers," and "The Dead 
 Heart." Was ever dramatist thus encouraged in 
 his first attempt ? 
 
 The piece was jproduced in May, 1857.* It had 
 rather the air of a French adaptation which may 
 have recommended it to Madame Celeste, who was 
 then an attraction at the Adelphi, and was really 
 " manageress." This lady was one of the earliest 
 foreign broken-English-speaking performers whom 
 audiences have since so indulgently tolerated, and 
 
 * It was thus cast : — 
 
 Joseph Chavigny 
 .Count Gerard de Grandmesnil 
 M. de Varennes 
 Regnier . 
 Madeline . 
 Madame Moulbaron 
 Madame Varennes . 
 
 Mr. Benjamin Webster. 
 
 Mr. Billington. 
 
 Mr. Garden. 
 
 Mr. Paul Bedford. 
 
 Madame Celeste. 
 
 Miss Eliza Arden. 
 
 Mrs. Chatterley. 
 
 Charles Selby and Miss Laidlaw also had parts. 
 
"JOSEPH OHAVIGNY." 29 
 
 who has been succeeded by a regular line of such 
 exotics. Such intrusions seriously injure dramatic 
 illusion, and would be resented on any foreign 
 stage. "Joseph Chavigny" was coldly received. 
 It may be interesting, were it only for contrast with 
 the present style of criticism, to turn back to the 
 commonplace and unrefined tone that was in vogue 
 in The Times. " The new drama," it wrote, 
 " presents one of those rare cases in which the 
 critic may conscientiously take part with the 
 author against the public. Grenerally the public 
 is distinguished bi/ the vast capacity of its swallow, 
 and its best counsellors would advise it not to gulp 
 down too much. In this particular case the 
 (Esophagus is unusually and unreasonably contracted, 
 and the audience of the Adelphi Theatre may fairly 
 be reproached by the dramatist for testifying little 
 gratification when he has laboured much, and dis- 
 played a degree of talent seldom seen in the dramas 
 of the present day." " The author," it added, 
 " might rest satisfied that he had produced one of 
 the best written pieces of the day ; nevertheless he 
 has fallen upon a time when writing is a secondary 
 consideration." The same judicious critic con- 
 sidered that the dialogue was distinguished by an 
 epigrammatic form of no common order. The 
 
30 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 Era, not then a power in the profession, was pro- 
 phetic : 
 
 " We have not," wrote The Era, " for many 
 years witnessed a piece of such legitimate merit, or 
 enjoyed a dramatic performance with so much relish 
 and delight, as we experienced at this deservedly 
 popular little theatre last Monday, on the represent- 
 ation for the first time of ' Joseph Chavigny, or 
 Under my Thumb,' written by Mr. Watts 
 Phillips. . . . After the trite and slipshod diction 
 to which we have of late been so accustomed, and 
 which authors are in the habit of using in 
 ephemeral pieces of the day, to link together the 
 dialogue of their plots, it is perfectly exhilarating 
 to listen to the terse and nervous energy of the 
 language put into the mouths of his characters by 
 the author of ' Joseph Chavigny.' The piece is 
 written throughout in a close masculine style that 
 often approaches the epigrammatic, abounding in 
 sharp repartee and caustic sarcasm, that reminds 
 us forcibly of Douglas Jerrold's best mannerisms 
 not as a dramatist, but in those happy expressions 
 that form the spirit of his last prose works; and 
 this is about as high praise as we can award. It is 
 a style admirably suited for the stage, especially 
 when blended, as in the present instance, with 
 

 
 r 
 
 
 
 i^tjUy i/ ^U' ^'^^tJ*' Mt . ^-a-M *t^^M^ i(^ 
 
 
 k/-. 
 
PBAISE FROM " THE ERA." 31 
 
 pathos and interest. On the whole we most 
 cordially welcome this new production as being the 
 first of what, we trust, will prove a long line of 
 dramas in the right direction, and at once energetic 
 and natural." * 
 
 * In our day, -when, a French- speaking waiter has been intro- 
 duced on the stage and applauded to the echo for saying, " un 
 siphon, m'sieu' ? " it is amusing to read that Mr. Webster objected 
 to the words " de trop," which he protested would not " be 
 understanded " of the British public. Joseph Chavigny " coming 
 through the glass doors at the back " exclaims, " I'm de trop." 
 " I'm one too many," was the manager's alteration. 
 
32 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE " DEAD HEAET." 
 
 In those days there was no theatre more popular 
 than the little " Old Adelphi," so long managed by 
 that sound, effective actor, Ben Webster. The 
 style of entertainment rarely varied, being usually 
 an exciting melodrama of a poignant, touching 
 interest, and French pattern, or, in many instances, 
 a simple adaptation of French pieces. Such were 
 the "Dream at Sea," "Marie Ducange," "Janet 
 Pride," as well as that interesting, romantic, and 
 well-constructed play, " Victorine, or I'll sleep 
 upon it" — ^the pattern of many more — which 
 enjoyed an immense popularity all over the king- 
 dom. An "Adelphi drama" became a special 
 type ; and, distressing as might be the story, it was 
 invariably relieved by a strong comic element, dis- 
 played to extravagance almost, by the humorous 
 Wright and his colleague, Paul Bedford — pillars of 
 the house. There was the grim 0. Smith, gifted 
 with a gruesome face and manner, and invariably 
 cast for some smuggler or pirate, an exaggeration 
 
THE " OLD ADELPHI." -33 
 
 of villany. Miss Woolgar, still with us, furnislied 
 piquancy and liveliness, or enacted the suffering 
 heroine; while the manager himself bore the 
 general weight upon his shoulders. The exposure 
 of villany often took place at some festive scene or 
 dance at night, when the company crowded in, arm- 
 in-arm, to group round, and witness the dying 
 agonies of the villain, and hear his revelations. 
 Hence much jesting at the expense of the awk- 
 •svardly behaved "Adelphi guests," — like John- 
 son's leg of mutton, "ill-fed, ill-kept, ill-dressed— 
 later to be happily ridicukd by Mr. Gilbert — though, 
 in their favour, it might be urged that the guests of 
 our well-appointed dramas often represent just as 
 indifBerently, though in more becoming attire, the 
 manners and bearing of the society of their time. 
 
 At this period each theatre — rsuch as the Hay- 
 market, Sadler's Wells, and the Adelphi, had its 
 regular "patrons," who came again and again to 
 " see Buckstone " or to " see Webster," and enjoy a 
 laearty laugh with Wright. Under the existing 
 system there can of course be no regular 
 ' patrons," as every successful play is likely to 
 ' hold the field " for six months, or even a year 
 The "patrons" of the Lyceum and the Haymarket 
 md the smaller houses, when, for instance. 
 
34 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 " Faust," " Our Flat," or the " Private Secretary " 
 may be performing for a couple of years, are 
 virtually the whole kingdom, or rather the great 
 kingdom of London — playgoers coming but once or 
 twice to see the favourite play. But under the old 
 system an Adelphi audience would naturally require 
 frequent changes in their entertainment. As the 
 farce was then of importance, persons who had seen 
 the piece de resistance, were gratified with novel- 
 ties, in which their fayourite "Wright could exhibit 
 some novel humours ; in short, constant variety and 
 new pieces were necessary to maintain the attrac- 
 tion. This, it may be imagined, had a beneficial 
 efEect on the powers of the actors, who became 
 practised in all sorts of devices, owing to their being 
 measured for new characters which, to their own 
 surprise perhaps, discovered in them unexpected 
 and unsuspected gifts. It is idle to lament this 
 happy state of things, and it must be admitted that 
 the present system is the proper one, because it is 
 the result of " the form and pressure " of the time, 
 which only a Mrs. Partington would attempt to resist. 
 But it may be imagined what an opening was here 
 for the industrious, versatile dramatist. The 
 manager was then eager to secure pieces suitable 
 for his theatre, being much in the position of the 
 
" TEE BEAD HEART." 35 
 
 French manager in the early days of Dumas, who 
 accepted works from all applicants of known 
 ability. But now, when a single play of merit will 
 supply the wants of a theatre for a whole year, the 
 position is reversed. The author of our time may 
 wistfully look back to the palmy days when Web- 
 ster held no less than three of young Phillips' 
 dramas in his possession, which he produced as 
 opportunity served. As we have seen, "Joseph 
 Chavigny " had appeared, and the author was now 
 impatiently pressing the production of another 
 piece, in whose merit he had an almost extravagant 
 confidence. This was the stirring and picturesque 
 melodrama of " The Dead Heart," which has 
 recently excited so much interest on its revival by 
 Mr. Irving. ' 
 
 In spite of much pressure the manager seems to 
 have long hesitated before producing it, and put it 
 aside until he had brought out its fellows. The 
 author pleaded for his ''Poor Strollers" in an 
 almost vehement strain of confidence in its merits, 
 which later seemed to inspire managers with some 
 of his own enthusiasm. 
 
 But the rather moderate success of " The Poor 
 Strollers " did not encourage the manager to under- 
 take another venture from the same pen. The 
 c 2 
 
36 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 subject, too, of " The Dead Heart," with its Revo- 
 lutionary crowd, Bastille, etc., had been treated 
 only a few years before in an adaptation by 
 Boucicault of Dumas' " Chevalier de la Maison 
 Rouge," and this, as Mr. Coleman has suggested, 
 was likely to have been the reason for holding the 
 piece over for some years. 
 
 Though fretfully waiting for the chance that 
 was, as he fancied, to make his fame and fortune, 
 V7atts Phillips never relaxed in his ordinary 
 literary work, supplying articles to the Daily News^ 
 and to country papers ; besides writing much 
 in a venture of Mr. Maxwell's, Town Talk, one of 
 the earliest, capricious attempts at what are called 
 "Society Papers." To this he furnished a story, 
 " The Honour of the Family," afterwards dra- 
 matised as ''Amos Clark." His pencil, too, was 
 busy. Yet it is curious to find how this gay, 
 buoyant man seemed to have an attraction for 
 " grisly" subjects, and he now produced a curious 
 and ghastly work of imagination, relating to the 
 Garibaldi episode, which struck his friends from its 
 morbid power.* 
 
 * This was a Death's Head, coiffeed in a low-crowned hat, 
 wreathing- itself with flowers, and bearing a scythe in a rather" 
 jaunty- manner. A pretty landscape stretches away in the back- 
 

 
" A TALE OF TWO CITIES." 37 
 
 But his thoughts were still fixed on the drama, 
 in which he had concentrated all his powers. Mr. 
 Webster, who had his moods of hesitation, could 
 not be induced to move ; he saw innumerable diffi- 
 culties and dangers, and the disheartened author 
 betook himself to his much loved Paris. • "Oh that 
 weary waiting," he said to his friend Coleman ; "I 
 can't think of it now without a shudder. I was 
 sick, sore, sorry, and desperately hard up besides." 
 After he had well nigh renounced all hope, he was 
 of a sudden overjoyed to learn that the nianager 
 had at last made up his mind to bring forward the 
 piece. This, as will be shown later, was owing to 
 the appearance of Mr. Dickens' " A Tale of Two 
 Cities," which, to his annoyance, seemed to antici- 
 pate some of his situations. But now. all "vyas 
 couleur de rose, and the mercurial dramatist, full of 
 hope and ardour, was already planning hew schemes 
 and offering new plays. He wrote — 
 
 August .2, 1859. 
 (In haste.) 
 
 My dear Webster,-^! feel your prompt ■ kindness 
 very mucli, nor will my future recognition of it be, the less 
 
 ground, and the legend " War " is faintly traced. Mr. MacLean 
 was inclined to purchase this design, but thought it too depress- 
 ing a subject to have a sale. 
 
38 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 because I now confine myself to the sincere "I thank 
 you." I DO thank you, and that most warmly. 
 
 I am very pleased at the opinion you express that 
 David Fisher will make a hit in " Latour." But what wiU 
 you do about Catherine ? The part is not only a most 
 important one in itself, but, if not well acted, fails to give 
 the requisite relief to Landry. I increased her power 
 towards the end, and it must be great and intense to shake 
 the firm resolution of Eobert. An inferior actress would 
 fail to convey this. 
 
 I shall be aU anxiety till I hear how you have got over 
 this difficulty. 
 
 " A manager's life is not a bed of roses," says CoUey 
 Gibber. It seems to me more akin to the gridiron of St. 
 Lawrence. 
 
 " If you want trouble and have too much pelf. 
 First take a theatre, then manage it yourself." 
 
 I think Miss KeUy will do Cerisette capitally. I wish 
 some little song could be slipped in somewhere for her ; 
 it would give rehef She's got what the French call " tears 
 in her voice," and a little song always puts the audience in 
 good humour. I remember the plaintive effect of the song 
 in " Green Bushes ; " it went through and through my 
 heart, and refined the whole drama. 
 
 Couldn't one be introduced ? 
 
 I wish Bedford and Stuart were more of a size. Do 
 you think Paul would object, just to oblige me, to put 
 himself upon bread and water for a week, or, which is more 
 likely, would Stuart go into training— beefsteaks and porter 
 three times a day, with a dos^ of cod liver oil every three 
 hours ? 
 
" THE GUBSE OF GOLD." 39 
 
 Jesting apart, I think Stuart will do Legrand very 
 well. 
 
 I hope Toole takes to Toupet. I have ordy seen him 
 once as the Jack Pudding in " Belphegor," and thought 
 it excellently done. . . 
 
 Has Wright left the stage altogether ? 
 
 I think the spectacular effects of the drama will teU 
 well in the new theatre, which I seem fated never to visit. 
 
 ... I am rapidly polishing up "The Curse of 
 Gold." As a domestic drama, I think you will highly 
 approve of it. It is laUghtek, passion, and tears all of the 
 homely sort. The characters are few, and this is how I 
 hope to see them filled : — 
 
 Jan Smet (a' sweep) . . . B. Webster. 
 
 Peterkin (his son) . . . Toole. 
 
 Simon {a shoemaker) . . . Selby. 
 Townspeople, etc. 
 
 Dame Smet Mrs. Mellon. 
 
 Katie (with song) .... Miss Kelly. 
 Lacemakers, etc., etc. 
 
 The plot is borrowed from a beautiful and simple 
 Flemish story, the stuff is my own, the character of Jan 
 Smet is made for you, and I'm sure Mrs. Mellon hasn't 
 had a better part than Dame Smet. However, directly it's 
 done, you shall have it for "judgment." 
 
 Anxiously waiting to hear more about the Green 
 Room difficulties, — I am, &c.* 
 
 Notwithstanding the promise, this was to prove 
 a season of anxiety to the author. So much 
 
 * From Mr. Coleman's " The Truth about ' The Dead Heart.' " 
 
40 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 depended on the success of this third drama, which 
 had not only- to confirm his previous success but to 
 surpass it. He was naturally nervous respecting 
 the casting of the characters ; the two or, it may be 
 said, three strong, leading parts in the piece de- 
 pended so much upon the actors and actresses who 
 delineated them. " Robert Landry " he knew was 
 safe in Webster's hands; he was also satisfied that 
 Pavid Fisher was to play the " Abbe La,tour," 
 though he did not imagine the great success which 
 that excellent actor would achieve in the part ; but 
 it was with consternation he learned that Miss 
 Woolgar had been cast for " Catherine Duval." 
 For Miss Woolgar he had the highest regard per- 
 sonally, and a high appreciation of her histrionic 
 talent in the particular line she had adopted ; but 
 "Catherines Duval" was quite out of that Kne. 
 Indeed it was a part such as she had never be- 
 fore attempted, and she herself at first declined 
 it. In the letter to which reference has been 
 already made, he says: "Miss Woolgar is to act 
 ' Catherine Duval '!!!!! She refused it at first 
 because (very truly) she was not a tragic actress ; 
 pressed to do it upon pain of dismissal, she con- 
 sented. I see now that it is announced in the 
 papers, that she is ill,, and ma^ be so for a time — 
 
" THE BEAi) BEABT." 41 
 
 but Webster thinks not. What a chapter of acci- 
 dents ! " Fortunately the actress recovered in time 
 to take the part, and the result took the author 
 as well as the Press by surprise. Miss Woolgar's, 
 " Catherine Duval," full of power, feeling, and 
 dignity, was a great success, which the author and 
 the Press warmly recognised.* 
 
 * The drama was produced on November 10th, 1859, with 
 the following caste : — 
 
 THE DEAD HEART. 
 {A Drama in a Prologue and Three Acts.) 
 
 The Count de St. Valerie 
 
 The Abb^ Latour 
 
 Rohert Landry . 
 
 Jacques Legrand 
 
 Eeboul \ J. ^ , 
 
 I wrtists and, 
 
 Michel 
 
 J 
 
 students 
 
 Jean 
 
 Pierre 
 
 Toupet (perruquier and coiffeur) 
 
 Jocrisse (owner of the cabaret 
 
 Trois Ecus ") 
 Baptiste Duval . 
 Ferbras (a blacksmith) 
 Blaireau (crier) . 
 Martinet (officer of gendarmes) 
 Catherine Duval 
 Cerisette .... 
 Rose .... 
 
 Lea 
 
 Mr. Billington. 
 
 Mr. David Eisher. 
 
 Mr. Benjamin "Webster 
 
 Mr. Stuart. 
 
 Mr. Paul Bedford. 
 
 Mr. W. H. Ebume. 
 
 Mr. Moreland. 
 
 Mr. Conran. 
 
 Mr. J. L. Toole. 
 
 Mr. C. J. Smith. 
 Mr. Page. 
 Mr. Aldridge. 
 Mr. R. Bomer. 
 Mr. Howard. 
 Miss Woolgar. 
 Miss Kate Kelly. 
 Miss Laidlaw. 
 
42 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 Mr. Billington, then a " leading juvenile," im- 
 personated the son, " Arthur de St. Valerie." 
 
 The success was great, even far exceeding the 
 expectations of the manager. The play attracted 
 large audiences. The Times wrote : — " ' The Dead 
 Heart,' a drama of more weight and more preten- 
 sion to sustained interest than has been witnessed 
 for a long time at any theatre, was produced last 
 night with distinguished success. The meagre out- 
 Kne which we have given of a piece abounding in 
 strong incidents, and wrought up with a rare degree 
 of elaboration, is necessitated by its extreme 
 length, which caused it to terminate at a late hour. 
 As its success will secure for it an enduring vitality, 
 we may take occasion to refer to it at some future 
 time." 
 
 The striking phantasmagorial effect at the close, 
 however, found objectors, notably in the Literary 
 Gazette^ then an important organ of criticism : — 
 
 But a grave fault completes the drama. Catherine 
 learns the truth (that Landry has sacrificed himself for her 
 son) when her son is encircled by her arms — learns it by 
 gazing through the window, and seeing Landry mount the 
 scaffold. But this does not satisfy Mr. Watts PhiUips ; so 
 the sohd walls of the Conciergerie are made to shde up and 
 down, and the audience see the guillotine, and the martyr 
 preparing for the knife. This stage business utterly 
 
cr 
 
 
" AN IMMENSE SUOOESS /" 43 
 
 destroys the natural effect of the acting. It makes a really- 
 good and touching drama, beautifully played, terminate un- 
 naturally, and even absurdly. 
 
 The Queen and Prince Consort came twice to 
 see it, when the house was " crammed." " What 
 an immense success," wrote the author to his sister, 
 " the play has been ! Have you seen the Dispatch, 
 Telegraph, and Spectator? Webster says it is the 
 best play that has been acted for many a long year ! 
 Fred Jones has written me ten closely-written pages 
 of most admirable, intelligent criticism on ' The 
 Dead Heart' and the actors. He concludes by 
 terming it the ' ^rea^es^ dramatic work of our day.' 
 It is largely talked about here " [that is in Paris]. 
 
 The author's triumph, and even exultation, at 
 having at last secured a solid success, found vent, 
 in very natural fashion, in a letter to this old 
 schoolfellow. Unluckily, he was unable to take a 
 share in either the preparation or the success of his 
 piece — some shape of force majeure preventing his 
 coming to England. But there were troops of 
 friends to send him abundant details. 
 
 Dear Feed, 
 
 A letter from you is always a pleasure to me, 
 especially when accompanied by a criticism of v/iuch value. 
 You have placed the " first night " vividly before my eyes, 
 
44 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 and I sincerely thank you for it. I do not flatter when I 
 say I know of no modern man, literary or otherwise, so 
 capable of sterling dramatic reviews.. Do not put this as 
 " a wipe off" for the favourable remarks upon my drama. 
 You have given me too many hard rubs for me not to 
 know you are conscientious. 
 
 Webster is in a state of exultation about the success. 
 I confess to having been nervous, but Webster's confidence 
 in the piece kept me up ; a firmer or a kinder friend no 
 author could wish for. The same night a telegraphic 
 dispatch arrived from him, worded in a way I shall not 
 readily forget, to relieve my most natural anxiety. There 
 is one thing that has vexed me in the criticisms— the 
 notion that my drama must be from some French play or 
 novel. It is from neither. As Touchstone says of Audrey, 
 "if a poor thing it is mine own." I have a knowledge (from 
 my long residence) of the French people, and know the 
 literature of the revolution well. My only borrowing was 
 from an incident related in Carlyle's history (concluding 
 chapter of third volume), in which an old man, the Marquis 
 de something, answers to the roU-caU in place of his son 
 (who is asleep) and takes his place in the tumbril. 
 
 I have never read " Monte Cristo," and let anyone 
 take up the " Maison Rouge," and point out, if they can, its 
 similarity in any way, but by being in the revolution. It's 
 too bad ! But, as Webster says, " we can afibrd to laugh," 
 though my next drama shall be laid in England, and then 
 there wiU be no doubt about it ; or, if in France, I'll make 
 the characters behave as though born under " Bow Bells " 
 and speak a broad Lancashire dialect. 
 
 Another drama is wanted. Can you suggest some" 
 period of history suitable for the stage? The "Account 
 
"SIP, EUBBAS!" 45 
 
 Balanced " will be a safe go, its skeleton now only requires 
 flesh, but Webster wants a telling, great (if possible) 
 ETiglish drama, witb effects, for he agrees with you about 
 accessories, and wUl not shrink from cost if I furnish the 
 staple commodity. He has never changed in his opinion 
 of me for a moment, but has ever been so kind and con- 
 siderate, so encouraging in all things, and so anxious for 
 my future, that I shall ever do my very best for him. 
 
 You've no idea what a storm of congratulations I've 
 had from men whose good word is of value. It gives me 
 heart, and I mean to strive day and night to better my 
 success. 
 
 The Times, Telegraph, Morning Post, Globe, etc., 
 promise second notices. I don't know whether any have 
 appeared — that they will, 1 know.. Will you kindly send 
 them aU to me (I mean every second notice) ? 
 
 I have conveyed to Mrs. Mellon what I consider my 
 obligation to her. As for Toole, we have had many 
 pleasant talks and meetings in the far North, and I knew 
 he would do his best for my interest and his own, 
 especially as he has a character in a piece of mine forth- 
 coming, to which Toupet is but a patch — a certain Bill Kite 
 or Mr. Accommodation Bill, a gentleman who traces his 
 success in life to "six lessons under the immortal 
 Carstairs." 
 
 Again, let me thank you, old schoolfellow and crony, 
 for your long and most welcome letter. I read it by the 
 fireside, and realised the picture you painted. 
 
 You know I will do. my best to improve my success 
 especially as the " Hip, hurrah ! " so long held back, is 
 coming in on aU sides ; and all I can offer to you for your 
 most kind and able criticism is the wish — to borrow from 
 
46 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 dear old Gowper — that when next I ride my race " may you 
 be there to see," and write me an account afterwards. 
 
 I am, truly yours, 
 
 Watts Phillips. 
 
 But in this flush of success his sensitive 
 nature was to be harassed by those va^e and un- 
 substantial charges of plagiarisms which were to be 
 revived thirty years later. As we have seen, a few 
 months before, in the April of the year, Mr. Dickens 
 had issued the first instalment of his picturesque 
 story, " A Tale of Two Cities," which, as all know, 
 is concerned with some exciting passages in the 
 French Revolution. In so vivid a picture the 
 Bastille, and the prisoners of the Bastille, were 
 likely enough to find a place, and by the time the 
 second monthly portion appeared, the dramatist 
 was aghast at recognising one of the leading situa- 
 tions of his piece. 
 
 Watts Phillips to Webster. 
 
 Ramsey, June 2nd. 
 
 Of course, they \vill 'make a play of Dickens' new tale, 
 " The Two Cities," and (if you have read it) you will see 
 how the character of the man "dug out " of the Bastille 
 wiU clash with the man in " The Dead Heart," written more 
 than three years ago. Knowing your peculiar powers, I 
 wrote Robert Landry exclusively with a notion how you 
 
^Ke. $ m.alL ■ |3 cuic 4rttve, ledger 
 
 5^iCf ^ f^^ '^."^'^ tr"^ va^iit^ajv u:;:^ 
 
 i" OU Ut. OWL Cu/r<OucAi ! "^ ' 
 
 ^ . J;^^llfete■!:^•^ 
 
A GUBI0U8 GOINCIBENGE. 47 
 
 would act that character, and foreseeing the reputation that 
 would arise to me. And now, owing to a delay of years, 
 Dickens puts into words what I had hoped long ago to see 
 you put into action. The tone of the resurrection from the 
 Bastille ought to have been fresh in my play, not in his 
 story. It's very heartbreaking. 
 
 It will be seen that there is here something in 
 the nature of reproach, as who should say " it is 
 ^our delay that is responsible for all this." Heart- 
 brfeaking it was, indeed ; and it must have been 
 with yet more serious misgivings that he nervously 
 followed the course of the story-^— dreading some 
 new, disastrous surprise at every page. By some 
 strange coincidence he was to find yet another of 
 his numerous situations anticipated in Sydney 
 Carton's heroic sacrifice at the close. But the 
 number in which this denouement was developed did 
 not appear until after the play had been produced. 
 Nothing is more singular than these coincidences. 
 It has been often said that a subject is often, as it 
 were, " in the air," and that its " germs " work by 
 a sort of contagion. But the more likely explana- 
 tion is that there is a legitimate development of a 
 dramatic subject which is almost certain to be 
 worked out by capable writers in the same way. 
 No doubt it was the feeling that he had been more 
 or less responsible for this unhappy state of things 
 
48 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 which prompted the manager to make all the 
 
 amends he could, by at once putting the play into 
 
 rehearsal. 
 
 Here, however, was the most popular story- 
 teller of the day, who had his many thousands of 
 readers : and some of his strongest situations are 
 found in a play produced before the conclusion of 
 the tale. In the newspapers this was freely com- 
 mented on, to the distress and vain protests of the 
 author and manager. A new charge was now made 
 that it had been "stolen" from the French. 
 Webster wrote to the Sun that it was ''perfectly 
 original from first to last to my knowledge, not 
 even adapted from a novel, which does not, in my 
 humble opinion, entitle a drama to be styled 
 original. I trust you vrill do this justice to a 
 young and talented author, who has nothing but 
 fame to live on." This was in January 18th, 1860. 
 Three weeks later Webster had to make this fresh 
 appeal : — 
 
 New Theatre Royal, Adelphi, 
 
 February 8th, 1860. 
 Sir, 
 
 I should have thought that, after twenty-three years' 
 management, during which lengthened period I have never 
 broken faith with the public, the announcement in my bills 
 for nearly one hundred nights that " The Bead Heart " was 
 
ME. WEBSTER'S LETTER. 49 
 
 an original drama would have satisfied the most sceptical. 
 However, the courtesy and respect for long and truthful 
 service was wanting, and I have been compelled, in the 
 absence of the author, to publicly, by letter, vindicate him 
 from the charge of adaptation, or translation, vide the 
 Morning Advertiser, the Sun, etc., some ten days since. 
 It is also well known — and I can immediately prove it — 
 that " The Dead Heart " was written and paid for years 
 before " The Tale of Two Cities," or the periodical in which 
 it appeared, was dreamed of. 
 
 I cannot conceive more ungenerous treatment than Mr. 
 Watts PhiUips has experienced, and feel that such attacks 
 ai'e most discouraging to original writing, and to managers 
 who wish to promote it. 
 
 The author, indeed, went so far as to say that 
 the piece was " seen by Dickens long ago." It 
 seems that when he first sent the piece to Webster, 
 the latter took it down to Brighton, and there read 
 it to two or three friends, one of whom was the 
 novelist. It was further insisted that the closing 
 .scene was nearly the same as a stirring situa- 
 tion in Dumas'- Chevalier de la Maison Rouge, pro- 
 duced in Paris some twelve years before. But the 
 self-sacrifice in question seems to have been but 
 a " common form," for, as Mr. Coleman has shown, 
 and the author, indeed, has admitted, a siinilar inci- 
 dent is described by Carlyle in his " French Revo- 
 lution." There is.something like it, also, in Palgrave 
 
50 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 Simpson's and Merivale's "All for Her." It is also 
 found in Lord Lytton's " Zanoni." And here 
 in dealing with this perplexing and oft-debated 
 question of originality, it may be said that a mere 
 " situation " is common property, though the mode 
 of dealing with it and of approaching it, offers 
 infinite novelty and variety. A dozen painters will 
 portray the same landscape, each with different 
 result. One will only see an effect of light, 
 another a minute exhibition of leaves, twigs, etc., 
 a third, like Corot, will be struck by a feeling of 
 gaiety or melancholy, a fourth will think only the 
 figures important, A love scene will strike each 
 author in a different way. Character, in short, and 
 the display of character, in all its innumerable shapes, 
 is ever novel and Protean. 
 
 Ap "Watts Phillips had anticipated, "A Tale of 
 Two Cities " was, without loss of time, prepared for 
 the stage by Mr. Tom Taylor, that admirable, 
 workmanlike dramatist, whose firm, secure touch, 
 and perfect knowledge of the stage, was always a 
 guara,ntee of success. * Madame Celeste, so lately 
 
 * The superiority of his work is shown by contrast with the 
 too often loose and meandering style of modern efforts, where so 
 much is thought to depend on " witty dialogue," as it is called, to 
 the sacrifice of genuine dramatic effect. In this economy of 
 mere talk Tom Taylor was conspicuous : ' he only considered the 
 business of the scene. 
 

 
 \^%s^ %^ij*^ 5v-'^v. 
 
 ^/; 
 
 <^ TiiM. /^n^J- ^i/v. 
 
 /// 
 
TBE RIVAL PLAtS. 51 
 
 Mr. Webster's partner, had now undertaken manage- 
 ment for herself at the Lyceum, and on January 
 the 18th, 1860, the new piece was produced. As 
 Mr. Coleman tells us : — " It was an admirable pro- 
 duction in all respects, both as to acting and 
 mounting. Certain impersonations in this drama 
 have not been excelled, perhaps not equalled in our 
 time — notably Madame Celeste's boy in the pro- 
 logue and her Madame Defarge in the play; the 
 pathetic Lucy Manette of Miss Kate Saville; the 
 Doctor Manette of James Vining ; the sympathetic 
 Sydney Carton of poor Fred Villiers, and the 
 wonderful wicked Marquis of Walter Lacy. The 
 two plays ' caught on,' and their resemblance to 
 each other having attracted universal attention, 
 society divided itself into two factions— the 
 Celestites and Dickensites, the Websterites and 
 Phillipsites. Then came accusations and recrimi- 
 nations as to coincidences and plagiarisms, and 
 bad blood arose on both sides." 
 
 Thirty years later Mr. Irving, in the full tide of 
 his success, was attracted by the romantic motley 
 shades of character ofEered by the part of Robert 
 Landry, which seemed to be especially suited to 
 his own gifts, and determined to revive the piece 
 with all the resources and adornments it was 
 D 2 
 
52 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 capable of. He, however, took the course of 
 adapting it to modem tastes, and subjected it, 
 with Mr. Walter Pollock's aid, to a good deal of 
 "toning down" and polishing, so as to remove the 
 old Adelphic cachet. Some critics, however, urged 
 that the piece would have gained in interest had it 
 been submitted in its original state ; and it suffered 
 by the almost wholesale elimination of its humours, 
 which were so racily presented by Toole and Miss 
 Kelly in the characters of Toupet and Cerisette. 
 This sort of contrast was essential to an Adelphi 
 drama ; and in all such pieces Wright, Paul Bed- 
 ford, or Toole, were expected to take an important 
 part in the conduct of the story. Indeed, it might 
 be said, that in real life scenes of agitation and 
 horror often engender grotesque situations and 
 humours, which in their turn add a poignancy to 
 the tragic elements. In its new shape, therefore, 
 the play seemed to present too much unvaried 
 sadness, "an inspissated gloom," as Johnson calls 
 it* 
 
 * Mr. Coleman, who had secured the " country rights " of the 
 piece, relates, in his interesting book, one of those tragic incidents 
 that have often occurred behind the scenes — 
 
 "At our last rehearsal at the Gaiety Theatre, Glasgow, the 
 Prologue had gone without a hitch, and we were all ready for the 
 Taking of the Bastille, when a wait occurred in arranging the 
 
"THE BSAD HEART" REVIVAL. 63 
 
 The production of "The Dead Heart" furnishes 
 one more instance of the tact and abihties which 
 have secured the manager of the Lyceum his 
 high position. Mr. Irving, seeing that there was 
 dramatic life and situations, brought the whole into 
 harmony with the times, and imparted to it a 
 true romantic grace. It is admitted that he him- 
 self has rarely been fitted with a part so suited to 
 his genius and capacities, or in which he has roused 
 the sympathies of his audience more thoroughly. 
 It is only the romantic actor that understands what 
 
 scenery. The delay appeared interminable, and everything was 
 in a muddle. 
 
 " ' Now then, Mr. Brown,' said I, addressing the master 
 carpenter, ' are we to wait your good pleasure till it's time to' 
 ring up 1 ' 
 
 " Stirred to action, the man caught hold of a piece of scenery 
 he had been pointing out to his men, held it for a moment, re- 
 linquished his hold, threw his hands in the air, staggered, and fell 
 back heavily on the stage. 
 
 "My first impression was that he had been partaking too 
 copiously of ' the wine of the country ; ' but, on looking closer at 
 him, I saw he had fainted. 
 
 "Unloosing his neck-cloth, I gave directions for his men to 
 carry him down below the stage to the carpenters' shop. 
 
 " As they removed him, a vivid ray of sunlight from a 
 window at the prompt side of the stage fell upon his face, and 
 Miss Barry, who was standing beside me, grasped my arm, as she 
 exclaimed, ' Look, look ! My God, the man is dead ! ' 
 
 " ' No, no. I can't — I won't believe it,' I replied. Then, 
 
54 WATT8 PHILLIPS. 
 
 might be called the key of a play. We have plenty 
 
 of effective, strident performers who would have 
 
 presented Robert Landry as the robust opponent of 
 
 tyranny — defiant, and, towards the close, pitilessly 
 
 revengeful. 
 
 The moment when a popular actor enters on 
 the scene reveals in a significant way the mystery 
 of his attraction and his power. The stage is full 
 of crowd and bustle ; there is a va-et-vient of glitter- 
 ing dresses, with a sort of histrionic turmoil. Of a 
 sudden the inferior players relax in their well- 
 meant, over-earnest efforts ; the throng parts, and 
 an obtrusive figure makes its way quietly to the 
 
 sending messengers in . various directions for a doctor, the 
 manager, and somelarandy, I rapidly followed down below. 
 
 " When the brandy came, I tried to pour some down the poor 
 fellow's throat — in vain, it came back again. 
 
 "Presently the doctor arrived. Feeling his patient's pulse, 
 and placing his hand upon his heart, he bluntly said — 
 
 " ' Humph ! Stoppage of the heart. Dead ! ' 
 
 " The play had to be produced at night, and it was noted as a 
 strange, gha»stly coincidence that, when his friends and fellow- 
 students were drinking his health, and that of his beautiful 
 bride, when all was mirth and jollity, Le Grand brusquely 
 exclaimed, ' Robert ! you remember Pierre Bastin, the carpenter 
 of the Faubourg St. Antoine ? Well, he died this morning ! ' 
 At these ominous words a thrill went through every one on the 
 stage, a pall fell over us, and we danced our sprightly gavotte as 
 if it had been a funeral march." 
 
CoJi/-£ f^^-ir-"^' -/-r-Ai.,,^ ^l^^rxA c 
 
 ■/-r'^f.j^ ^^Tf^cKA o^ y .^-iji. 
 
 
 / ^" 
 
-TEE DEAD HEART" REVIVAL. 55 
 
 front to be greeted with a roar of welcome. There 
 is. of course, some art in making this official entree 
 effective; it can be, so to speak, "staged" like 
 other scenes, and the ordinary "star" d,ctor takes 
 due care that the business of the moment shall be 
 suspended, and that his followers are suitably 
 grouped. 
 
 With the romantic, sympathetic actor, however, 
 it is different. With him the most effective entree 
 will depend on the situation, and is unobtrusive. 
 There is a significance in the face, the bearing, the 
 fashion in which he even wears his clothes — 
 accidents which act, as it were, and are a depart- 
 ment of expression. The "reception" appears, as 
 it should be, an involuntary interruption ; the play 
 is still going on. His fellows, with voice and 
 gesture, are importunately emphasising their pro- 
 ceedings, more or less declaiming to the listeners — 
 much more rather than less — what they have to 
 repeat ; whilst he, with a strange magnetism, 
 affects all by his "grace" — ^the mysteriously 
 expressive face and bearing, and unexaggerated 
 tone — so that when he is withdrawn for the 
 moment, eyes are " idly bent " on such of 
 "Nature's journeymen" as take up the business 
 next. 
 
66 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 The "Abbd," too, would have followed the imme- 
 morial precedent of the "crafty," insinuating abb^s 
 who have so often figured on the stage. The leading 
 " comique," who, in the remote performances, came 
 riding in on a cannon, ought to revel in his fooling 
 as a sort of revolutionary humourist. But in the 
 late revival these things were softened and gradu- 
 ated as in , a picture ; some figures being merely 
 sketched, some put in the background, nothing 
 being intrusive. By a sort of miscalculation the 
 style of one or two of the performers seemed hardly 
 in keeping: notably that of a sound, worthy actor, Mr. 
 Stirling, whose method belonged to an older school. 
 He seemed rather a blunt English sergeant of old 
 days, who had taken service with the French. In 
 the same way, a nobleman of dissipated manners, 
 who attempted to carry off a young lady a la 
 Richelieu was portrayed by a performer who, both 
 in stature and manner, seemed to lack "dis- 
 tinction." But these were slight blemishes, and 
 scarcely of the essence. 
 
 Irving's style — his excellences, as well as his 
 defects, are now familiar to all. The last are 
 rather mannerisms, which, it has been contended, 
 are necessary attendants on every kind of excel- 
 lence. The poet, the painter, and the orator 
 
"THE BEAD HEART" BE VITAL. 57 
 
 especially, has these personal peculiarities, which 
 he, perhaps, regards "with a tender allowance. 
 Kemble, with all his gifts, was a serious offender 
 in this respect; and -his throat-clearings and his 
 "aitches" were often the subject of good-humoured 
 ridicule. In Robert Landry is exhibited' no less 
 than four contrasted phases of character : the gay, 
 hopeful young artist ; the terribly metamorphosed 
 prisoner of nearly twenty years ; the recently de- 
 livered man.,^ newly restored to the enjoyment of 
 life ; and lastly, the composed revolutionary chief, 
 full of his stern purpose of vengeance. This offers 
 an opening for the display of versatile gifts, and 
 were certainly brought out in the most striking 
 contrast. But it is in the later scenes of the play, 
 when he appears as the revolutionary chief, that 
 our " manager-actor " exhibited all his resources. 
 Nothing was more artistic than the sense of re- 
 straint and reserve shown, which is foim.ded on a 
 perfect knowledge of hxmaan nature. A person 
 who has thus suffered, and with so stern a pur- 
 pose in view, will appear disdainful of speech, 
 and oppressed, as it were, with his terrible design. 
 It is a common error that dramatic feeling must 
 be expressed in words which may be illustrated 
 by face and gestures ; but it might almost be said 
 
58 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 that unvoiced expression is infinitely more telling 
 and dramatic than any form of words. All 
 through this portion of the play Irving's bearing 
 and glances were in this spirit ; his answers 
 were made in this language. Quiet, condensed 
 purpose, without any " fiendish " emphasis, was 
 never better suggested. Even when the drop- 
 scene was raised, and he was revealed, standing by 
 his table, there was the same unrelenting mood, 
 with an impression that here was one who had 
 just passed through the fire, who had been exe- 
 cuting an act of vengeance which had left its 
 mark. 
 
 The crowd regard him with a strange awe and 
 curiosity. In the duel, so quiet and deliberate 
 are his ofEers of the passport, disguise, etc., that 
 the audience for the moment was "trapped"; and 
 when he at last unfolded his conditions and the 
 price to be paid, a general rustle and wave of 
 excited movement spread over all. During the 
 combat, no less remarkable was his steady following 
 of his adversary, his "holding him with his glit- 
 tering eye" — like the Ancient Mariner — with all 
 the certainty of destiny. This suggestiveness in 
 tone and colour is one of the elements of romantic 
 acting, and _we tvould suggest that our actor might 
 
"TEE DEAD HEART" REVIVAL. 59 
 
 still further develop his resources in this direction. 
 Mr. Bancroft, on the other hand, seemed to rely 
 chiefly on the effect of his utterances, and such 
 a part as the Abb^ would bear ''furnishing" to 
 any extent in this *' extra-lingual" direction. But- 
 it was a well-studied, solid piece of workmanship, 
 notably in the later scenes, where there is a tone 
 of haughty recklessness very happily conveyed. 
 
 Miss Terry, though fitted with a rather un- 
 pretending part, imparted to it, as was to be ex- 
 pected, all that bright enjouement and sympathetic 
 grace which is her own and hers only. She is the 
 romantic actress, alternately gay and pathetic, with 
 that heartfelt earnestness which it is so difficult to 
 present, without affectation on the staga Nor must 
 we forget that popular favourite Miss Kate Phillips, 
 who brought with her brightness and bustle. 
 
 As is well known, the manager is supported by a 
 scenic artist of extraordinary ability, whom he has 
 inspired by furnishing him with opportunities such 
 as a scene painter could rarely hope for. The long 
 series of Shakespearean and other dramas, each 
 with its beautiful and original paintings, became a 
 school. Experiments on the most magnificent scale 
 were tried; and here the manager made his own 
 inspiration felt to an extraordinary degree. The 
 
60 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 lovely supernatural effects in " Faust " owed their 
 success to a novel and original use of wliat are 
 called "mediums," and which Mr. Craven has 
 utilised. These devices, as commonly used, suggest 
 the magic lantern, but at the Lyceum there is a 
 richness of tone and a fine mystery which lifts it 
 above vulgar associations. We venture to say that 
 nothing so beautifully suggestive, as well as 
 effective, has been seen on the stage as the last 
 pictures of " The Dead Heart." 
 
 There is a darkened chaniber in the prison 
 whence Landry goes forth to make his sacrifice, the 
 meeting of the mother and son following. After 
 an interval the background lightens, and a misty 
 vision is seen behind, of the tumbrel moving on 
 the guillotine, and the admirably-posed figure of 
 Landry standing erect. To most spectators this 
 seemed to be the fitting and sufficient conclusion. 
 But what followed was a true surprise. With a 
 fine, almost imperceptible, progress, the background 
 seemed to dissolve, leaving " not a wrack behind; " 
 figures began to grow and multiply, a sort of lurid 
 tone came over all, and there was revealed the 
 whole scene of the scaffold, with — ^most effective of 
 all — the long row of revolutionary soldiers ranged, 
 their backs to the audience. This living shadowy 
 
/^ ^ /iC*. ^x^ "d^ i^^^' 
 
 y 
 
 
 cA^i2^^ A>^..>4^ /c'2^*-^ /ct^ i^u\aJj 
 
"TSE DEAD HEART" REVIVAL. 61 
 
 barrier between the reality and the visions seemed 
 wonderfully effective. There was nothing of the 
 usual pretentious " tableau " in this ; the idea was 
 conveyed that this scene was before the mind of the 
 mother and son, which, in those high-strung, 
 nervous days it might well be. The judicious 
 reserve of the whole change, and the perfect repose, 
 made it almost a dreamy intellectual operation, con- 
 trasted with the usual upheavings and " clatter- 
 ings " with which such things are usually done. 
 
 In a drama like "The Dead Heart" music 
 forms a fitting accompaniment, furnishing colour 
 and appropriate illustration. It is almost un- 
 interrupted from beginning to end. Mr. Irving 
 has always paid particular attention to this 
 dramatic element, and has called in the aid of 
 composers of eminence, such as Mr. Hamilton 
 Clarke, Sir A. Sullivan, and Sir Julius Benedict. 
 The beautiful music to the " Merchant of Venice," 
 by the first-named composer, will be fresh in our 
 recollection ; and that of Sir A. Sullivan to '' Mac- 
 beth" has already found its place in the concert 
 repertoire. M. Jacobi, of the Alhambra, furnished 
 some effective, richly-coloured music to " The Dead 
 Heart," alternately gay and lugubrious. More, 
 however, might have been made of the stirring 
 
ea WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 " Marseillaise," wHcli might have been treated in 
 various disguises and patterns as a sort of Leitmotiv, 
 much as Litolf has done in his symphonic work on 
 the same subject, or as Schumann has treated it 
 in " The Two Grenadiers." M, Jacobi, however, 
 caught perfectly the feverish, agitated spirit of the 
 time. 
 
63 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " PAPER wings" — HOPES AND FEARS — " THEODOKA." 
 
 After a visit to Edinburgh, where he busied him- 
 self with some iUustrations for Charles Mackay's 
 " Whiskey Demon," he found his way back to Paris 
 to plan new dramas. He later gave a graphic 
 account to his friend Coleman of his intimacy with 
 the elder Dumas, Victor Hugo, Gambetta, and 
 others. In these coteries the young Englishman 
 seems to have been cordially welcomed. 
 
 Soon after the production of " The Dead Heart " I went 
 to Paris, partly to represent Webster's interests, partly as 
 
 correspondent to the ; but principally to perfect 
 
 myself in the art of dramatic construction. 
 
 I took as my model Eugene Scribe and glorious old 
 Alexandre Dumas. Did I know him ? Kather ! He was 
 the most generous, large-hearted being in the world. He 
 also was the most dehghtfuUy amusing and egotistical 
 creature on the face of the earth. His tongue was like a 
 wiadmill — once set in motion, you never knew when he 
 would stop, especially if the theme was himself. Many and 
 many a time have I sat into the wee small hours, a rapt 
 listener, as he compared his youthful trials, troubles, esca- 
 pades and bonnes fortvmes with his trusty comrades — 
 
64 WATT8 PSILLIP8. 
 
 Boccage, Macquet, and Frederick — the great Frederick 
 Lemaitre. 
 
 I suppose lie must have been great in his time ? 
 
 Must ? He was. 
 
 Ah, well, when I saw him he was a hoary ruin — majestic 
 in decay. When sober — which was not very often — he was 
 moody and saturnine ; when mellow, delightful ; when 
 drunk, mad. The first night of " Toussaint I'Ouverture," 
 Lamartine's play, he was a howling maniac. 
 
 To return to Alexander the Great. Of course he had 
 lots of fellows to help him in his Avork. He gave me a 
 turn now and then, but Macquet was his right hand. He 
 was almost as great a genius as his master. Dumas 
 detested description and elaboration, but he would invent a 
 plot in five minutes, and knock off a play in five hours, if 
 the fit took him. He always maintained that he was a 
 dramatist, and nothing more. 
 
 I made Dumas' theory my dominant idea of character 
 and composition, as you will see in " Lost in London " and 
 " Marlboro'." Ah ! you don't know them — more's the pity. 
 In " Lost in London " there are only two men and one 
 woman. In " Marlboro' " there's only handsome Jack and 
 the duchess ; but, oh ! such parts. 
 
 Those golden days and roseate nights in La BeUe Lutfece 
 were the happiest I ever passed. We've nothing like it 
 here ; we are all so confoundedly insular and insolent. 
 From the first I believed in Gambetta. I always said he'd 
 be a great man even when he "dried up" over his first 
 brief in 1861, and it was at his express invitation that I 
 went over in '68 to hear his defence of Charles Delescluze. 
 Yes, my boy, I heard the Baudin speech — the speech which 
 sounded the death-knell of the man of December and the 
 
^^//.^^ 
 
 ^/C^^Jg 
 
 
 
 f^W 
 
 
 ^Am ^ ^^.cJk 
 
 A^ .^'t^Ji-^ '\*.'r-3r-o^ 
 
WEBSTER. 65 
 
 gang of knaves and thieves, pimps, panders, and cut- 
 throats who had enslaved and degraded France. 
 
 Here is a lively sketch of his manager, Web- 
 ster :— 
 
 During nay stay in Paris I wrote a lot of plays for 
 Webster, which are still lying idle, and likely to remain so, 
 since he wiU neither act them himself nor allow any one 
 else to do so. Par exemple, there is Job Armroyd in " Lost 
 in London." This play has been announced any time for 
 the past five years, but it has been put off from time to 
 time. Now he tells me he has dreamt that he is going to 
 die while acting the part, so the production is postponed 
 sine die. 
 
 Then there's my biggest play, "Marlboro'," has been 
 shelved for years — that's the part for you, my boy — but, of 
 course, I can't withdraw it, because he has paid for it. 
 Besides which, he took me by the hand at first, and has 
 been so kind ever since, and we have had such good times 
 together. 
 
 He often came to see me in Paris, and it was one 
 perpetual holiday. He is a wonderful man — ^never means 
 to grow old, and doesn't know the meaning of a headache 
 or of fatigue : never turns in till two or three, and turns 
 out again at eight as fresh as a daisy. Then his strength is 
 prodigious for a man of his age. 
 
 You should have seen him at the last carnival. A 
 great hulking bully of a Pierrot kept following and insult- 
 ing us. At last he laid his hand on Ben's shoulder. It 
 would have done you good to have seen the old boy 
 take hold of the hound and throw him over his head 
 
66 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 like a feather. He didn't molest us any more, I promise 
 you. 
 
 These times were too bright to last. 
 
 He had speedily prepared a new drama — or 
 rather a series of dramas; indeed, from this time 
 his exuberant brain seemed to teem with scenes 
 and plots and whole plays, which he was ready 
 to supply with an amazing fertility. Prolific 
 writers, as they are called, must live in this 
 " superfcBtation of ideas." There is a positive 
 delight and enjoyment in the exercise of the 
 imagination : one plan is no sooner conceived, than 
 it engenders another ; and the last is best of all. 
 On the other hand, the sluggish writer has many 
 a heavy hour: his composition is a painful and 
 laborious process, and too often reflects the 
 process of " its unkindly engendure." " The Curse 
 of Gold" was the first result: but was not found 
 acceptable at the Adelphi. The manager had just 
 engaged those delightful comedians — Wigan and 
 his wife — ^whose styles were so contrasted, and 
 who required to be nicely and accurately fitted — 
 and the ready pen of our author supplied what 
 was desired in the shape of a comedy called 
 " Paper Wings," The manager had also " com- 
 missioned" an historical piece in four acts, of 
 
TEE " LONDON JOURNAL." 67 
 
 which the era was to be the 'Forty-five. He 
 was also busy with long serial stories for Mr. 
 Maxwell, and for papers like the London Journal. 
 
 " The proprietor," says Mr. Coleman, " was my good 
 friend, W. S. Johnson, the doyen of theatrical printers, 
 the manager, Mark Lemon, through whose friendly offices 
 Phillips was placed upon the staif. Amongst his colleagues 
 were Sir John Gilbert, who did the illustrations, and 
 Charles Keade, whose ' White Lies,' strange to say, proved 
 to be the most disastrous ' ventilator ' the paper ever had. 
 
 " Phillips's nom depluvie on these occasions was Fairfax 
 Balfour. Upon calling one evening, I found him actively 
 engaged in the weekly instahnent of a blood-curdling 
 romance, entitled ' Nelly, or the Companions of the Chain.' 
 Dinner was nearly ready, but the ' devil ' was waiting below 
 for copy. 
 
 " ' The villain has hocussed NeUy,' said his amanuensis. 
 ' What am I to do with her now ? ' 
 
 " ' Why, rescue her, of course.' 
 
 " ' But how— how ? ' 
 
 " ' Well, Algy comes on' 
 
 " ' But he can't. The door's locked.' 
 
 " ' Well, he must burst it open.' 
 
 " ' He can't ; it's barred and bolted.' 
 
 " ' Well, then, he must come over the tiles, through the 
 window. Then a struggle for life and death. He upsets 
 the lamp ; it sets fire to the place : smoke, flames, all the 
 rest of it. While the devouring element enfolds its victims 
 and death on a pale horse rides on the blast. To be con- 
 tinued in our next. Don't forget the pale horse. That 
 will do.' " 
 E 2 
 
68 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 The writing of his comedy took him just a 
 month — as he said, " It's hard work — night and 
 day." But as usual, the comedy was to bring 
 him trouble and anxieties. The Wigans were 
 difficile, not to say crotchety. Of his various dis- 
 tresses he gives this picture, in a letter to his 
 family, dated February 10, 1860. 
 
 First and foremost I have finished " Paper Wings " ; I 
 leave you to guess with what work (three acts in less than 
 one month) ! The comedy is witty, sarcastic (very), and a 
 good plot ; but I have had a most terrible bother with the 
 Wigans, especially Mrs. Wigan. They have thrown every 
 possible obstacle in the way of its acceptance. Webster 
 received the first act, and was " delighted " ; then came a 
 letter, " if so-and-so is not altered, they wiU not do it," 
 etc., etc. — with an encouraging private note from Webster— 
 " the fact is, that they have another piece of Taylor's, and 
 wiU. throw you over if they can. Taylor would w illin gly 
 see you shut up for daring to come between the wind 
 and his nobility. Pray mind your P's and Q's, you've 
 a lot to fight against, for, I am compelled to give way 
 if Wigan insists, as right of choice, in part, rests with 
 him." 
 
 A pleasant feeling this, to work day and night with ; 
 but I pushed on, knowing that Webster would do his best to 
 take the piece. Yet, as he owned, the obstacles against me 
 were great, viz, a "fi^ed determination to object " on the 
 part of the great actor (and Wigan is a very great actor) 
 before he had seen a line of the piece. 
 
(^ - k^^''h±iy;y,,.y'7- '-^ 
 
 
 ii-a^ jZ^-^- 3%lA-A-. 
 
 
 "-■"X >*v,, 
 
 
 -,iF-^., . 
 
 
 
 
PBE88 GBITICI8MS. 69 
 
 Then the second act was completed — verdict of 
 Webster "I think it capital, brilliant writing, and most 
 effective situations." I did work on, and on the 3rd finished 
 the third act, though very unwell both in eyes and 
 head. / 
 
 To-day I have received Webster's letter, "I've had a 
 terrible time of it. — The W.'s objected to everything bit 
 by bit, till I lost temper and said, ' I won't take anything 
 of Taylor's, at any rate.' Then it was agreed it should 
 be read before the company — I read it, and it went off 
 triumphantly. Even then they declined it, unless I would 
 make their engagement twelve weeks, instead of six. I 
 have submitted, and so they act the piece. If it don't 
 turn out well, I'm done." This is all his letter, and I am 
 anxiously waiting more information. 
 
 Then referring to his story, he adds — 
 
 To make my peace of mind quite complete, I've quar- 
 relled with , refusing to continue the story unless 
 
 the character of the periodical is changed. Webster's 
 
 christened it " The Family Washtub." threatens law 
 
 if I don't fulfil to the letter my agreement. 
 
 My name is getting up rapidly in England. In the 
 Standard of last Thursday week they placed me as a 
 dramatist in the first place ; and in the Morning Post " to 
 our rising young dramatist must be awarded the laurel." 
 But "my precious eyes," how they all, from Webster to 
 
 , praise my novel. I d^re not teU you what thiey 
 
 say, excepting that it ought to be in Blackwood — then it 
 would make my fortune. 
 
 There is only one bit of news that consoles me for much 
 care. The man / love best in the world, Nathaniel 
 
70 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 Hawthorne, is about to publish a new novel. God bless 
 him. His worst — "Blythedale Romance" — is better (in 
 poetic thought) than anybody else's. 
 
 The captious objections of the "Wigans were 
 offered to the very last, bewildering the author. 
 But the hearty encouragement of the manager all 
 through supported him. As he wrote to his family 
 in his own natural style— 
 
 Sincerely his estimate of me and the piece is- higher 
 than my own. I have, through the haste and bother, only 
 a confused notion of what it is all about. They " poked 
 me up" every day almost, and I scuttled on. I know 
 I strengthened Plynlimmon, but it's "aUus a muddle." 
 What makes me so nervous is Webster's anticipation for 
 the assistance , a second success will be to our forthcoming 
 spectacular, etc, etc., drama. Could he have kept on " The 
 Dead Heart," he (Webster) says he should have cleared a 
 large sum. Last Thv/rsday they hadn't room for " half a 
 man more in the house." Notice the audience for me this 
 time. Webster thinks the Adelphi patrons are getting 
 more intellectual. I have great fear of a first night not 
 at aU supported. Yoiir letter gives me a leetle comfort — 
 but, still I think you're both mistaken up to a certain 
 point. 
 
 My blood be upon your head ! 
 
 Webster is a fine-hearted noble fellow. 
 
 Thine — Watts. 
 At last the comedy was produced : on the night 
 
"PAPER WINGS." 71 
 
 of February 27, 1860, some three months after the 
 appearance of " The' Dead Heart."* 
 
 The author, unhappily, could not be present at 
 the performance, and, as on the former occasion, 
 had to remain in Paris. His friends sent him 
 comforting telegrams, "Great and genuine success: 
 enormous house, and mostly a paying one, to the 
 roof crowded," By a mischance — torturing to an 
 author — the wires had been broken by a storm, 
 and the message was fourteen hours on the road. 
 The criticisms were cold and carping. No doubt 
 there was some jealousy of a young and absentee 
 
 * Here was the bill : — 
 
 PAPER WINGS. 
 Bs Watts Philips, Esq., Author op "The Dead Heart," 
 
 ETC. 
 
 Characters. 
 
 Sir Arthur Plynlimmon (aged forty) . Mr. Alfred Wigan. 
 
 Mr. Jonathan Garraway (aged forty-Jive) Mr. David Fisher. 
 
 Sir Jacob Pantile . -v (Directors of . Mr. Paul Bedford. 
 
 Gqlonel Batter . V the Gt. Mael- . Mr. Howard. . 
 
 Mr. Alderman Fungus / strom Bank) . Mr. R. Romer. 
 
 Transfer . . \/q 1.1. i. \ ■ ^^- Stuart. 
 Coupon. . -J *"" ^^ ■ Mr. W. H. Ebume. 
 
 Scrip .... (Transfer's clerk) Mr. A. Powell. 
 Owen Percival . . (Secretary to . Mr. Billington. 
 Garraway) 
 
72 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 writer, who appeared to have a monopoly of one 
 
 theatre. The manager wrote — 
 
 I hope you received the telegram, and that it enabled 
 you to sleep sound. It was a genuine success, but the 
 Press are most ungenerous, though they cannot deny the 
 fact. The Daily News is an honourable exception, which 
 I enclose, though I presume you will have seen them all, 
 Oxenford went out, stating his dehght, and then tried to 
 knock the piece over this morning. The tone of the papers, 
 
 I fear, wUl seriously injure us. They say S wrote the 
 
 Daily Telegraph. Nous verrons ! The Sunday Press are 
 no great friends of yours. 
 
 Webster may weU be astonished (wrote the author to 
 his family) at the comparatively cold tone of the papers. 
 
 William Kite, Esq. . {of Fcdcon Hall, Mr. J. L. Toole. 
 Surrey, better known as "Accovi- 
 modation Bill ") 
 
 Flimsy - Mr. Charles Selby. 
 
 Mr. Hammer. . . (an auctioneer). Mr. J. C. Smith. 
 
 Jones . . . . (potboy) . . Miss Stoker. 
 
 Servant. ...... Mr. Page. 
 
 Electric Telegraph Boys. . . . Misses Foots and 
 
 Hayman. 
 
 Stockbrokers. ..... Messrs. Morris, Con- 
 
 rai, Le Barr. 
 
 Mrs. Wylie . . . (« widow) . Mrs. Alfred Wigan. 
 
 Blanche Plynlimmon . (aged eighteen) . Miss Henrietta Sims. 
 
 Madame Kalydor ("Nature's soft nurse") Mrs. Chatterley. 
 
 Tawdry. . . (Mrs. Wylie's maid) Miss Kate Kelly. 
 
 Time — The Age we live in. 
 
"PAPER .WINGS." 73 
 
 Sala declared loudly that he'd never believe W. P. had so 
 much wit in him, adding it must have taken me months. 
 Tom Taylor and a host of authors were there — " all," says 
 my informant (a literary man himself) "very highly 
 amused, and ashamed to be seen so." 
 
 I cannot help smiling at what the critics say about 
 " carefully prepared dialogue," and most patiently " polished 
 epigram," when I think of my helter-skelter writing, 
 scarcely pausing for my meals, till my system has had 
 quite a shock. 
 
 I should like to hear how the second night and the 
 third night went, whether there was a call, etc., etc. Can 
 you learn ? Yates has been very kind in the Daily News. 
 Webster is coming for a short time to talk things over ; 
 then he acts " The Dead Heart " at Glasgow, Edinburgh, 
 Bristol. 
 
 The engagement of the Wigans, made long 
 before, had, as we see, interrupted the run of 
 " The Dead Heart," an incident familiar to 
 managers and always exasperating. This feeling, 
 however, is contingent on the success of. the other 
 substituted piece ; if all goes well, there is not 
 much to be lamented. 
 
 Webster says, had it not been for this unfortunate prior 
 engagement of the Wigans, he should have been clearing 
 nightly a large profit from " The Dead Heart." The whole 
 time of its run he had not one bad house, and his revival 
 of it for one night crowded the theatre to the roof. 
 
 The Queen desired her great satisfaction to be expressed 
 
74 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 regarding the drama. I thought of writing her a hne 
 asking if there were any Httle office vacant about the Palace 
 that she thought I could fill — for instance Comptroller of 
 the Maids of Honour — but it might offend Webster, so 
 I shall remain in obscurity, with modesty, as ever, my 
 stumbling block. "Webster, during the Wigans' engage- 
 ment, produces " The Dead Heart " ia the provinces. May 
 it bring grist to his mill, for he is a rare good fellow ! Let 
 me have the weekly papers, they are so very important, 
 and I paste all into a book — my lesson book, I call it, with 
 lots of birch. 
 
 Our indefatigable author, now busy with new 
 ventures, accepted the rather chequered fate of 
 his drama with equanimity. 
 
 If there are leaves of laurel in the crown there 
 are also plenty of thorns. Webster says the Wigans 
 will never draw at the Adelphi. I am racking my brains 
 over the forthcoming drama (Jacobite period, time 1745), 
 and Webster is very urgent I should push on. Scene must 
 be in London. Smith wants a piece for Dillon, but I shall 
 stick, true as steel, to the firm friend who has never 
 swerved from his faith in me. He had, as he wrote to 
 another, a great many communications to reply to, that 
 were forwarded by friends who grow with the success 
 and expire with the defeat : a crop of social fungi engen- 
 dered by sudden heat acting upon a damp, close soil. 
 Now, having relieved myself of the immense burden of 
 recognition to them, I get into a fresher and more con- 
 genial atmosphere, and after wiping my hand carefully, 
 extend it cordially and gratefully to you. Deeply I am 
 

 
 A^'Tt^.'pif^:^n:tff-f 
 
 A^ C-c'./»c<< (^zVi 
 
 
 l^\Uy,.^ JU? 
 
 '"^^-U-OU- kL^ ^ 
 
8UG0il8 D' US TIME. 75 
 
 obliged for the trouble you so cheerfully undertook. 
 Oxenford expressed his " delight," and then wrote a cold 
 notice in the morning. Yates wrote me that it went " tre- 
 mendously," objected, as you do, to Mrs. Chatterley, but 
 said " it was a success that no one can deny." His notice 
 in Daily News was very favourable. Wigan has written 
 a jolly, complimentary letter, hoping that he may have 
 the opportunity of carrying out many more of my con- 
 ceptions, and desiring that our acquaintance shall become 
 of a closer kind. 
 
 There is some ruefulness in all this, which seems 
 to betoken that comfortless form of success — one of 
 " esteem." It is pleasant, however, to note the 
 cordial, kindly efforts of such friends as Mr. 
 Edmund Yates. But the official judgment of other 
 critics, Hke the late Mr. Oxenford, are not to be pre- 
 sumed from casual, good-natured utterances in the 
 lobbies. This critic, with whom "first-nighters," 
 as they are called, were long familiar — the only 
 one of his order privileged with a box — was, it is 
 notorious, almost too easy and indulgent, and often 
 saw good in what was but indifferent. 
 
 He was now gratified by many offers from 
 managers, and by commissions. He was approached 
 by that eccentric specimen of an entrepreneur, Mr. 
 E. T. Smith — who was perhaps the first in our 
 time to introduce the purely commercial element 
 
76 WATTIS PHILLIPS. 
 
 into his calling, " running" a theatre very much as 
 he would a shop. This was not surprising, as he 
 had learnt his business at the " Royal Property," 
 or Vauxhall Gardens, which he had administered 
 in a showy and successful style. 
 
 E. T. Smith has written to me for a three-act drama 
 to be put in hand immediately, Beverley to paint the 
 scenery, and he will engage what principal actor or actress 
 I can point out. Also, that if I can make an appointment, 
 he will come over to Paris himself to. arrange. AU this I 
 am forced to decline. Webster has commissioned a new 
 four-act drama, and I must not, for any temptation, act 
 unjustly to him. In his case, my word must be my 
 bond. 
 
 He was more gratified by a friend's proposal to 
 prepare for the French stage a version of his 
 '' Joseph Chavigny." But no poor hard-working 
 litterateur ever encountered so many awkward checks 
 and disappointments. His friend Webster, then in 
 Paris, entered one morning with the news that he 
 had just seen a piece called " L'Escamoteur," in 
 which he had recognised his old friend "Chavigny.'' 
 The author, being busy, thought lightly of the 
 matter; but presently arrived the translator him- 
 self, in much alarm, who confirmed the news, on 
 which both went off to see the piece, and found 
 that it was the work of that most skilful of play- 
 
" THEODORA." 77 
 
 Wrights, D'Ennery, the author of the "Two 
 Orphans," who had annexed the leading incidents. 
 On this discovery the plan was abandoned. He 
 had on hand, however, another more ambitious 
 scheme — a five-act piece founded on the story of 
 "Theodora: Actress and Empress," 
 
 which abounded in spectacular effects, has " situations " 
 of the Hugo and Dumas sort — is entirely original — 
 and affords scope for marvellous beauty of scenery and 
 costume. Miss Cushman was so taken with the " plot," etc., 
 which we used often to talk over together, I altering much 
 at her suggestion, that she gave it to Charles Matthews, 
 who spoke in high terms, but walked off to " Ameriky," and 
 
 it was with difficulty Miss C got back my MS. She 
 
 wished me, at that time, to show it to various managers, 
 and state her desire to act the part ; and, that so high was 
 her opinion of the play, that she would accept sharing 
 terms on speculation of its success. But I, being then en- 
 tirely unknown, except as a caricaturist, made at that time 
 no further step in the matter excepting to lend it once to 
 Miss Gljm for perusal, whose verdict was highly flattering, 
 and dropped it into my desk. Webster read it, and thought 
 it promised an enormous success, but owned it wouldn't do 
 for him because the character was one for a great actress. 
 Kean would have done it, but it was his last year at the 
 Priacess's, and he could not afford to make that a year of 
 other than reproductions; his opinion was nnost favour- 
 able. 
 
 Phelps liked it ; but objected that his part -must top 
 Theodora's. This was the play of " Hamlet " with the part of 
 
78 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 Hamlet ojnitted with a vengeance, and I told him so. 
 Miss Glyn was anxious I should write it, but could not 
 afford herself to speculate. And there the business 
 dropped. Since that time I have produced three dramas, 
 and am in a very different position. It's just the piece for 
 Drury Lane. Webster is very much taken with the 
 characters of "Theodora," and thinks it will be a tremendous 
 hit. 
 
 As regards the " Theodora " MS. my movements 
 are, as yet, quite undecided. Webster seems to consider 
 that until I have given him a second " Dead Heart " 
 I have no right to do anything dramatic for anybody 
 else. This is not quite my view ; but he is coming over to 
 Paris to spend a few days with me, and the whole business 
 will be gone into. He 'd be glad to . get off any further 
 engagements with the Wigans (I imagine). Comedy won't 
 do in a theatre which aims at being the " Porte St. Martin " 
 of London. Should I make a move with " Theodora ? " 
 
 Such are the scraps of encouragement on which 
 the sanguine dramatist feeds. But gradually there 
 comes a change of hunjour ; the manager grows cold 
 — the thermometer falls. 
 
79 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ox GHOSTS — ^A FILIAL LETTER — THE " 'fOKTY-FIVE." 
 
 He was now offered the post of correspondent to 
 the Daily Telegraph, which he declined from the 
 good-natured motive that it would interfere with 
 an engagemetit made with a strugglin*g man, who 
 he said' " woiild starve " if he supplanted him. "We 
 find him also in consultation with Webster over a 
 piece called "The Account Balanced"; and also 
 still pursued by the lessee of Drury Lane with 
 tempting offers. Yet though all this offered fair 
 prospects enough, progress was but slow. For the 
 working dramatist each play has but a precarious 
 lot; may be "commissioned," yet found unsuited ; 
 may be accepted, and yet held over for years. Long 
 and apparently satisfactory negotiation, with fitful 
 turns, may lead to nothing in the end ; or he may 
 be invited to begin all over again, and supply some- 
 thing more suitable. These capricious changes 
 have to be met with patience or fretfulness; and, 
 what is more difficult, the spring and buoyant 
 spirit must be maintained, or the work will be 
 
80 WATTS PSILLIP8. 
 
 indifferent. No one encountered so much of this 
 as our dramatist ; and it was not wonderful that at 
 times he sank into fits of despondency, from which 
 he suffered much. 
 
 Concerning your objection [he wrote at this time] to 
 the supernatural and utter disbelief in ghosts (though poor 
 Goldy says " appearances are in their favour "), I go half-way 
 with you only.' I do believe in a communion with this 
 world and higher intelligences; also in the union of 
 minds, or, how shall I term it ? communion of spirit be- 
 tween those who loved sincerely and are separated. I 
 believe in the possibility of that occurrence. " The voice " 
 that echoes through the heart of "Jane Eyre," as related 
 by Miss Bronte in one of the concluding chapters of her 
 strange great book, — I allude to the " cry " of Rochester, — 
 
 Mrs. Gaskell declares, on the word of C. B , to be a 
 
 fact. I feel the possibility of. such things. But you 
 mustn't think that Goggs is the exponent of my feelings ; 
 that gentleman, who, like Addison's old maid, is " always 
 seeing apparitions and hearing death watches, and was 
 nearly frightened into her coffin by the great house dog, 
 who howled in a stable at a time when she lay ill of the 
 toothache." 
 
 Do you remember Addison's beautiful conclusion to 
 his essay on superstition ? I should like to get ' Mr. 
 Stimpson's " and " Goggs's " opinion on it. 
 
 " I know but one way of fortifying my soul against these 
 gloomy presages and terrors of mind, and that is, by secur- 
 ing to myself the friendship and protection of that Being 
 who disposes of events and governs futurity. He sees, at 
 

 (IV dolJ^ [m.1^ '&^^ MA, cruHJ Jt''^ •, 
 
 ^'':^^ 
 
 'f.iMl/ _^^t:DCQ)y 
 
 
 
 A- ■-^^1^;^; 
 
 
IMPULSIVE GHABACTEB. 81 
 
 one view, tlie •whole thread of my existence, not only that 
 part of it which I have already passed through, but that 
 which runs forward into all the depths of eternity. . When 
 I lay me down to sleep, I recommend myself to His care ; 
 when I wake I give myself up to His directions. Amidst 
 aU the evils that threaten me, I will look to Him for help, 
 and question not that -He will either avert them, or turn 
 them to my advantage. Though I know neither the, time 
 nor the manner of death I am to die, I am not at all 
 solicitous about it ; because I am sure that He knows 
 them both, and that He wUl not fail to comfort and 
 support me under them." 
 
 According to the testimony of his family, he 
 was always deeply imbued with religious senti- 
 ment ; though sentiment is of but little value unless 
 fortified by practical acts. As Bishop Butler has 
 so logically proved in the " Analogy," simple in- 
 dulgence in pious sentiment actually enfeebles, if it 
 does not destroy, the active principle. 
 
 Few men [writes one who knew him well] were quicker 
 of temper, more bitter and sarcastic in anger — and very 
 few were so ready to forget and forgive — save in one case, 
 and there the injury was too great for forgiveness. Even 
 when very young, he could never sleep after a quarrel with 
 any member of the family, until there- had been a recon- 
 ciliation. His mother often related how, if he had had 
 any words with his father, she always left the bedrobn^ 
 door unlocked, aware that he would mak^ some excuse 
 to enter, such as the borrowing of a watch key or th like 
 F 
 
82 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 as he would never retire to rest until tlie little dif- 
 ference tvas settled. 
 
 This is a pretty trait, of a touching and rather 
 original jiind, and betokens a really affectionate 
 nature. 
 
 " The Account Balanced " did not seem to suit 
 the Adelphi, and we hear no more of it. E. J. 
 Smith was still pressing for a work — and at last 
 received " The 'Forty-five " drama — which he ap- 
 pears to have piirchased from Webster, and which 
 was in due course produced. It did not enjoy much 
 success. According to the late Mr. Boucicault's 
 sarcastic theory '^ Nothing could succeed at Drury 
 Lane " — at least in those days.* 
 
 In. the next long, interesting, and most natural 
 
 * Here is the bill : — 
 
 " A STORY OF THE TOETY-FI VE." 
 
 An ■Origimdl Drama in lour Acta. 
 Gliaracters. 
 
 Sir Andrew Silverton 
 
 Sir William Ashford 
 
 Cyril Silverton . 
 
 Captain Hector Kilrttddock 
 
 Evan Maclan . 
 
 Father Metzler. ) 
 
 Chasseloup . \ 
 
 Mr. Webster. 
 Mr. Spencer. 
 Mr. MacLean. 
 Mr. Farrel. 
 Mr. Bedford. 
 
 Jacobite Agents. 
 
A STOBY OF "THE 'FOBTY-FIVE." 83 
 
 letter, addressed to his mother at Jersey, he out- 
 pours all his hopes, projects, and fears. There are 
 touches of buoyancy and despondency side by 
 side. It is dated 1861. 
 
 It seems an age since any communication has passed 
 between us, and I am longing to hear some news of you. 
 I have been laid up with a very severe attack of influenza 
 — brought on, I think, by the sudden presentation of a 
 doctor's bill for 4,000 francs, which I am vainly disputing. 
 I hiave been very iU, the recovery being ah. the slower 
 because 1 persist in sticking to my work. In another 
 fortnight or' three weeks I shall have finished "Lost in 
 London " and commenced a new domestic drama, " Some- 
 thing to live for " which a French author has engaged to 
 translate as I write it, under the title of "La vie ne vaut 
 rien sans elle " or " Bien sans die." I am also slowly 
 laying the foundation of a new play, which wiU, I think, 
 stand quite up to the height of " The Dead Heart." It is 
 to be called "St. BartholOTnew's Eve," with the great 
 
 Enoch Flicker .... 
 Sergeant Guffog 
 
 Corporals Wotherspoon and Crick 
 Bickers ., . . (a drummer) 
 
 Tootle . 
 Landlord . 
 State Messenger 
 Isabel 
 
 Jessie MacLeod 
 Highland Kate. 
 Hanover Bess . 
 
 F 2 
 
 Mr. J. L. Toole. 
 Mr. Paul Bedford. 
 
 (afifer) . 
 
 (of Adam and Eve) 
 
 (Sir William's da-ughter) Miss H, Sims. 
 
 Miss Clyde. 
 
 ^. , ^ „ , „. . Miss Thirlwall. 
 
 Rival Ballad bmgers { -^. -^^ , 
 ' Miss Howard. 
 
84 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 gloomy figure of Catherine de Medici in contrast with 
 brilliant tableaux, furnished by those terribly picturesque 
 times. I imagine such a drama my speciality. I wish I 
 could contrive to send you my MSS., but I can get slight 
 information about Jersey here. It's looked upon as a kind 
 of political outlaw's den ; hallowed, as aU thinJcing people 
 deem it, by the presence of that great Hugo, whose name 
 is a talisman of pjwer to move the heart of France. 
 
 I should like, if I can, to send my rough copy of 
 Torty-five. I think it a far more talented play than " The 
 Dead Heart." Also, I should like to forward '' Lost in 
 London " for your perusal. Can you give me any positive 
 idea of the expense of such a parcel ? . . . , How I 
 pray to get an original drama out here ! If successful, it 
 
 would make my fortune. 's influence is paramount 
 
 at the Adelphi. Webster is old, and very, very shaky, 
 
 . and evidently hopes some day to become master of 
 
 the theatre 
 
 Boucicault writes me that nothing could succeed at 
 Drury Lane — ^he foresaw it, etc. "Webster says, innocently, 
 " You've been sold, my poor boy ! I wonder they didn't 
 bring it out at St. Paul's." I had two offers for the 
 '"Forty-five," one from the Princess', the other from 
 Smith (manager of Drury Lane). I foolishly took the 
 latter, Boucicault strongly advising it 
 
 I had almost resolved upon visiting America next year, 
 but this cursed split in the cZis-United States has upset 
 everything, and the Yankees ■ are laying out their spare 
 cash in bowie knives and revolvers. However, I shall keep 
 my eyes open. It has been a hard time for me. I should 
 have got a great pull if the '"Forty-five" had been a 
 success. Yates says it was a great success, but the house 
 
(U. 
 
 
 t^cL 
 
 a. «Kftjr old. yUju,^ S^fhjJUu, J 
 
 UrvvkltCiiX'' kwM* (^ )\ajJl itLm 
 Tut- ^ «v K4«*u£Ax<Ci. 
 
 ItiA^hU, vjUkir^ cllu^d^i /<A. ot«r»ifc . Ji y^fca/^ s^ 
 
 

 
EABB WORK. 85 
 
 was a mistake. D. L. is now an opera and pantomime 
 theatre, with now and then starring engagements for Kean 
 and Brooke, but never for an original drarha. 
 
 Celeste wants a drama — ^but what am I to do ? I've sent a 
 completed five-act drama in the rough, " The Half Brother " 
 (an adaptation of " The Head of the Family "), to Webster, 
 asking him to look over it ; then, if he has no objection, I 
 shall dispose of it to the Princess', who want a drama for 
 Fechter, the French actor (the original Buy Bias), who has 
 made quite a sensation in London by acting in English. 
 He stated he should like to have a play by the author of 
 " The Dead Heart." But Webster's such a slow coach that 
 he drives me frantic. 
 
 See how I work ! During the last twelve months I've 
 produced " Paper Wings," three acts ; " The Half Brother," 
 five acts ; " The 'Forty-five," four acts ; " Lost in London," 
 three acts ; " Marlborough " (half completed), three acts ; 
 and have in contemplation "Something to live for," three 
 acts ; " St. Bartholomew's Eve," three acts ; " Breakers 
 Ahead ! " two acts ; and all this with very indifferent 
 health. Oh! but for that one curse of my life! Still, I 
 shall conquer yet ! 
 
 Answer my query about the M.SS. soon, and believe me, 
 
 Your affectionate son. 
 Watts. 
 Give my little man my best love and many kisses from 
 
 fnt.nfir 
 
 his fathi 
 
 ler. 
 
 N.B. — You say Blanchard had been asking about me. 
 I wish you would learn which Blanchard ; whether it is my 
 old friend, Edmund B., of Lloyd's paper, or E. L. B., the 
 
86 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 pantomime writer of D. L. — ^with exactly wliat they said; I 
 feel sadly your absence from London. 
 
 If I can only get a success in this great theatrical and 
 literary city, I could snap my fingers at London, that city 
 of theatrical barbarities, in which " The Green Bushes " 
 and such pieces are spoken of as those " great works." 
 
 A gentleman in the SuTiday Times went out of his way 
 to have a dig at me the other day in a notice on the 
 " Colleen Bawn." " We've had enough of the intellectual 
 school of writing, and do not hesitate to say that the 
 ' Colleen Bawn ' and ' Green Bushes ' are far more amusing 
 to an English audience — ^who go to be amused, not bored— 
 than a dozen such brilliantly tedious productions as ' The 
 Eivals ' or ' School for Scandal,' even from tragic declaiming 
 of such ambitious pieces as ' The Dead Heart.' ' The Wife's 
 Secret,' ' The Duchess of Malfi,' or ' The Maid's Tragedy' (a 
 good company) are more provocative of sleep than amuse- 
 ment. ' The Green Bushes ' and ' The Colleen Bawn ' are 
 worth them aU." 
 
 It is pleasant to think of this toiling, struggling 
 man thus devoting time and zeal to entertain his 
 family. At this moment lie was almost overwhelmed 
 with work, or rather with proposals and plans for 
 future work. 
 
 I am likely [he wrote] to be very bwsy. Wigan (after 
 applying in vain for my address at the Adelphi) has 
 written to me haphazard for a something d la Buy Bias 
 for his autumn season. The letter he sends me is like 
 himself, so gentlemanly, so business-like, and so true, that 
 
BARD WORK. 87 
 
 for every reason I am called upon to do my best, and so I 
 shaU. Great haste. 
 
 P.S. — I re-open letter to say that one has just arrived 
 from Mr. Kobson accepting the plot of " Married in Haste," 
 and commissioning the comedy. "His Last Victory " has 
 h^n read at the St James' with great acclamation ! ! ! • 
 
 Of the Wigan proposal, however, we hear no 
 more. He had also engaged in a co-partnership 
 with Bayle Bernard, an industrious and now almost 
 forgotten dramatist, to whom we owe " His Last 
 Legs'' and naa,ny an adapted melodrama. His 
 buoyant ally speaks airily of "preparing several 
 dramas " with his assistance. All the tithe he was 
 living a gay Boulevard life, giving and receiving 
 dinners — English friends, and friends of Webster's, 
 constantly '' turning up." 
 
 I understand there are some very fine contralto songs 
 in the " Amber Witch.'' What do you think ? Wallace 
 . has had rather a better success than the unfortunate 
 Wagner. Such an audience ! and such a sibUation ! 
 " Sindbad's VaUey of Serpents '' was nothing to it. But if 
 the first night was noisy, the second night was quiet. A 
 shower bath of poppy juice could not have produced a 
 more somnolent effect. Indeed, one old gentleman was 
 turned out by the box-keeper for snoring so loudly that he 
 awakened the pit. 
 
 He also gives a sketch of the famous tumult 
 when W^.gner's "Tannhanser" wfts first produced. 
 
88 WATT8 PHILLIPS. 
 
 This combination of , work and dissipation was 
 beginning to tell upon his health, which from this 
 time forth began to fail him. He in truth " lived 
 hard" as it is called, and his labours were now 
 interrupted by a sharp attack, which confined him 
 to his room for some weeks. Still, his extra- 
 ordinary spirit did not allow him to relax. He 
 now engaged to write a new novel, and had just 
 finished " The Foster Brothers," planned by Bayle 
 Bernard, " but every line, nay, every word my 
 own. Wigan and Harris both want pieces, and I 
 have had a pressing order from the Daili/ Telegraph 
 to take Horace St. John's place as leader writer." 
 
 But in many of these instances he had been too 
 sanguine, and did not take into account the pre- 
 cariousness of theatrical promises. 
 
89 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 DISAPPOINTMENTS. 
 
 Thkse checks and repulses are unfolded in another 
 of his truly natural and afEectionate letters to his 
 mother — 
 
 April 1th, 1862. 
 
 My ever dear Mother, — In my long silence there 
 has been no forgetfulness of you ; on the contrary, every 
 afiectionate thought has been with you ; but my battle, 
 for the last three months, since my illness, has been 
 a hard one, yet I have fought with courage and without 
 defeat. 
 
 Yesterday saw the conclusion of my new comedy, 
 "His Last Victory," which has been accepted by the St. 
 James' Theatre, and I. hope will prove the forerunner of 
 other comedies, as it will if successful. Thus far my good 
 fortune : now for my disappointments ; they are great, as you 
 will see. My new drama, "The Foster Brothers," which 
 was, in part, accepted by Drury Lane, is, owing to 
 Smith's sudden decision of closing the theatre till Oc- 
 tober, rendered unavailable in any way tiU that month 
 arrives. 
 
 Disappointment number one. But disappointment 
 number two is more serious, and fills me with a rage and 
 
90 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 bitterness I will not venture to express. You know my 
 way of making out plots, in fact, giving almost the entire 
 piece in my plan. Well, for weeks I laboured on a most 
 magnificent plot, building it up entirely out of my own 
 brain. I called this drama (it's not a melodrama, but 
 a kind of " Lady of Lyons '' play) " Married in Haste," and, 
 being applied to by Mr. Harris, the manager of the 
 Princess', for a piece for Fechter, sent him my detailed 
 plot. He was so pleased with its originality that he came 
 over to Paris and saw me about it. It was afterwards read 
 to Fechter, who refused it because the female part was so 
 strong. Harris wrote — " We all say that there is but one 
 actress in England who could do the part of 'Camilla 
 Hailstone' justice; that actress is Miss Amy Sedgwick" 
 Miss Sedgwick not being acting at the time, I thought 
 no more of it, but, with resignation gained by a thousand 
 misfortunes, put • my piece away with a sigh. This took 
 place ten weeks ago. Last week I saw Miss Sedgwick had 
 been engaged by Robson at the Olympic, and remembered 
 my play. 
 
 I sent it in, and it was read irtimediately, for my name 
 now stands very high. Robson and Emden were charmed 
 with it, calling it a second "Lady of Lyons"; demanded 
 my terms for writing it, and all was on the very eve of 
 conclusion, when Robson chanced to tell the plot (for he 
 was much struck with its originality) to Miss Sedgwick. 
 She cried out in astonishment, '' But the same plot, more 
 or less, was the subject of a' little drama read to me last 
 week by Mr. Brougham (a friend of Fechter and Harris), 
 whose piece, 'Playing with Fire,' a translation from the 
 French, has been acting at the Princess', and in which 
 Brougham takes - the principal character. The piece," she 
 
Mjl oidsh Toife ojS-mnmtt. 
 
 y^n^ cvt^aArc<6-ta cA^JJ HoH ,- lUxJlL , TiTl/kx J^Cvna.i,^iA< do 
 
 loMieJ . 'TieAv-ti , oJl ->xJi>vo^ ,[ Ttc SecuoTL hcu-Ut'-^ l"r>_ 
 Jooline 'w 'ur/y^- J u>ix/Ki-, CAoA; .Ti^/inn^ f 
 
LWTTEB TO HIS MOTHER. 91 
 
 said, " was evidently a hasty affair', but the plot, with a 
 certain alteration of time and place, is nearly identical 
 
 with Mr. Watts Phillips'." Upon which I received a 
 
 letter from; the management begging an explanation, and 
 suspending all arrangements, because Miss Sedgwick 
 declined a part of such importance as mine^ when there 
 was a little piece in existence turning on the same cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 Of course I wrote to Harris an indignant letter, stating 
 that by his own avowal my plot was read- to Fechter. But 
 while the plot was being read, Mr. Brougham was acting 
 in the theatre, and was, moreover, the literary adjunct 
 of the theatre. But Harris had himself suggested Miss 
 Sedgwick's name. Yet ten weeks afterwards I find a 
 piece, hurriedly written, has been presented to that lady, 
 with a plot in every way identical with my own. Such a 
 coincidence could not be accidental. My plot was com- 
 pounded from my own fancy with the exception of one 
 little incident, suggested to me by the correspondent of 
 the Morning Post; yet that very incident, aU over a 
 cigar, is shadowed out in Mr. Brougham's piece. 
 
 I'll not bore you with what else I said, but I am not a 
 man to sit down tamely under an injury. You can imagine 
 what my letter was. "If," I said in conclusion, "my plot 
 has been purloined, I wiU not venture in a letter to say 
 what I think, but shall reserve that gratification tiU we 
 meet in public, when my expression will be worthy of such 
 an offence." Thus the matter stands, and I am waiting 
 anxiously for Robson's final decision, though. I am afraid 
 Miss Sedg^ck will refuse any piece to which " doubt " and 
 a quarrel are attached. 
 
 Is it not a misfortune? Their letter accepting my 
 
92 WATTS PEILLIP8. 
 
 piece was only a few hours in advance of tlie one retracting 
 for the reasons stated : the whole being doubly cruel when 
 addressed to me, who have always disdained to pillage even 
 an idea of another man's, but have acted with a scrupulous 
 honour in my Uterary career. Mais nous verrons ! * 
 
 * The following letter, written about this time to bis sister, 
 wiU be of interest. 
 
 Written in a] Volume of " Martin Chvazlewit." 
 
 4, Eldon Road, Kensington. 
 
 My dear Emma, — One of the most pleasing passages in 
 Scripture is that in which Christ, with a wisdom always divine, 
 speaks of the "widow's mite." It is with the same diflldence, 
 but also with the same feeling that beat in the heart of that 
 forlorn woman, that I make my little offering to you upon your 
 birthday. At present I am very poor, or, believe me, the gift 
 should have been very different, but, with all due respect for the 
 past, the value of a thing is not 
 
 . "Just as much money as 'twill bring," 
 
 for neither of us, I hope, have yet to learn that the motive of the 
 giver is the consecration of ilie gift, and that 
 
 "Unselfish love may have the power 
 To make the meanest weed appear a flower." 
 
 7/" you already have the book, do not scruple to say so ; my library 
 is not a very large one — indeed, I carry most of it in my head 
 upon wooden shelves — but I daresay I can find another and more 
 fortunate volume to flutter its white wings and act as a messenger 
 of love between us. 
 
 God bless you, my dear girl, and may your 90th birthday find 
 
"LOST IN LONDON." 93 
 
 •' The Dead Heart " has been plalyed by Webster at the 
 Surrey, and is now at the Marylebone ; this week, as 
 announced, will make its 316th repre'Sentation ! He is going 
 then through the principal towns. They talk about doing 
 " Lost in London " this year. It was read, and the parts 
 given out at last when I stopped it, warned by a kind friend 
 
 that (who dreads me more than ) had cast it 
 
 for the full blaze of summer Miss Woolgar writes me that 
 her part of " Tiddy Dragglethorpe " is the very best bit of 
 Lancashire nature that she has ever read, and adds, " I wiU 
 prove to you by my acting how much I appreciate the great 
 part you have so kindly given me," continuing, " You, my 
 dear sir, are the man who can smash this 'sensation' 
 mania, in which the scene painter is the dramatist." 
 
 Nothing has vexed my vanity more, and may I say my 
 love for you and my sisters, than the fact that you can 
 neither see nor read my plays. For be it known to you, I 
 am now quoted in the French as well as English papers, as 
 the only original English dramatist. Bear in mind before 
 you read " Lost in London " that it is pure Lancashire. I 
 stvdied the dialect in Brayley's Patois of English Counties, 
 then worked at Mrs. Gaskell and Miss Evans (glorious Miss 
 Evans !), and afterwards a highly-valued friend made for 
 me a vocabulary, and out of this grew Job and Tiddy. It 
 
 you as good and kind as your 19th, that they may say of you as 
 Chaucer of that sweet Prioress — 
 
 "And all was conscience and tendre harte,'' 
 nor ever outlive the belief that I am 
 
 Your affectionate brother, 
 
 Watts Phillips. 
 
94 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 is Nature, if nothing else, and no man dare deny its 
 originality. Again, nous verrons. 
 
 I've led such an attack upon the "sensation" drama; 
 my letters under the C. P. appeared in the Daily Tele- 
 graph. I wrote one to the Proprietor privately (his son 
 has just married Miss Webster), but, without consulting 
 me, he pubhshed my letter and prayed for more. Again 
 my vanity must speak. The letter was a great one, and 
 
 poured into as the JIfomior poured into the 
 
 Merrimac. 
 
 Patience! Only give me life, and with the help of 
 God ! I wiU be instrumental in " smashing " this sensation 
 drama. 
 
 The awkward contretemps notwithstanding, 
 Mr. Robson , handsomely, accepted " Married in 
 Haste," and produced the piece, as will be seen 
 further on, with unequivocal success. The in- 
 defatigable author was now, as he said, "loaded 
 with work." Two pieces at the Olympic and St. 
 James'. " Harris offers any terms for a piece, and 
 Buckstone desires a comedy." 
 
 With the exception of the drama [he wrote to an old 
 friend] \yritten by me months ago (" The Foster Brothers "), 
 melodrama and I have parted company for ever. Comedy 
 and drama wiU henceforth be my speciality, an,d, as I look 
 around at my desk covered with pleasant letters from both 
 actors and managers, I feel that it is not only possible but 
 probable I shall leave behind me a nanie. 
 
 I have neglected you, old friend; I have neglected 
 
5 cUmc*- oX £>XAJitl^kim. 
 
 /X^ /r*^a.^^^^ aA-v SftiX't^ 
 
 So Vc»y irtKy M*y U/Ua.? '■ J\ 
 
 ' /iu<Uiu.'L>'-'l'M>u.,peJ,c^ u,<nJUL ili-'-li <- A^ , 
 
 ^'^"^^Ahiut^ 
 
 l": 
 
 
.NEW FIEGES.\ 95 
 
 every friend but my.peii; to tl>at,I have stuck, and the 
 result has proved my wisdom, But now with the certainty 
 of remunerative and creditable work comes back the wish 
 to hear from and see if possible the friends I value — value, 
 indeed, too much to bore them with my troubles tiU I can 
 speak of my troubles as nearly past. 
 
 ^ Come over here for a few days-^I can manage you a 
 shakedown ! and can assure you a most hearty welcome ; 
 also can introduce you to Very charming society. Come ! 
 you will not regret your visit, and of one thing be always 
 certaiii,, whether I aia faulty in correspondence . or no, that 
 there is no friendly voice I am more pleased to hear, 
 1^0 jolly, friendly mug I am so pleased to look upon as 
 yours. ' ^ 
 
 'No less than four of these pieces, as he wcpte to 
 his friend, "Fred" Jones, were pretty certain, to 
 appear that year, ," Married in Haste" at the 
 Olympic; "His Last Victory," at the St. James'; 
 " Lost in London " at the Adelphi ; and " The 
 Foster Brothers " at . Dfury Lane. It did not 
 seem to h.a"vre occurred to him that the stage is not 
 exactly adsfcpted foy this sort of wholesale manufac- 
 ture; A' play, like a statue in a public place, requires a 
 large area of observation ; and the public attention, 
 always languid, needs pause and deliberation. The 
 attraction of a play has to sink in, and filtrate slowly. 
 In literature there are so many, kinds of audiences 
 that a diligent caterer inay be as industrious as he 
 
96 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 lists ; but the public, which has but one pair of 
 eyes or ears, in the theatre, soon grows fatigued or 
 bewildered, if its attention be distracted by a suc- 
 cession of dramas from the same hand. 
 
 In his letter he alluded to his attacks on a form 
 of the drama then in high favour, and which he 
 detested, naturally perhaps, because it was the 
 destruction of his own free and natural style. This 
 is what was called the *' sensation drama," the 
 introducer of which was Mr. Dion Boucicault. 
 This ingenious, versatile man had been successful 
 in all departments of the drama, from his early 
 comedy, " London Assurance," to his famous Irish 
 dramas, and the artificial and unhealthy " For- 
 mosa." At one time, "the water cave" in the 
 GoUeen Bawn, with the leap across it, were thought 
 to be prodigies of "sensation," as well as thq 
 railway trains, and realistic pictures of London 
 slums in his other pieces. These things would be 
 smiled at in these days of Drury Lane triumphs of 
 "The World," a "Million of Money," etc. The 
 fact remains, however, that in spite of protest and 
 ridicule, "sensation" has held its ground to the 
 present hour, and materially affects the general 
 course of the drama. As I have said before, this 
 must be accepted as the result of the "form and 
 
"HIS LAST VIOTOBY." 97 
 
 pressure " of the age ; it must be received, there- 
 fore, to a certain extent, as a legitimate develop- 
 ment. 
 
 In June, on the 21st, 1862, "His Last Victory" 
 was produced at the St. James' Theatre.* 
 
 * The bill of the night was as follows : — 
 "HIS LAST VICTORY." 
 {An Original Dramm in Two Acts.) 
 Characters. 
 
 General Hercules Lacroix 
 
 Baron Horace de Fauconville {forty yea/rs) 
 
 Felicien Doucet {nephew of the General, 
 
 twenty-eight yea/rs) 
 Copernicus Kopp .... 
 
 Molasse ...... 
 
 Sergeant Pons {servant to the General) 
 
 Phinucan {a footman) 
 
 Monton (a peasant) .... 
 
 {friends of the 
 Countess) 
 
 Octave Decourcelle 
 Jules de PayoUes 
 Volnay 
 
 Laborde . . . . , . 
 
 Countess Beauregard {twenty-five years) 
 Julie D'Aumont .... 
 Madame Molasse .... 
 Madame Du Helder 
 Madame St. Roche 
 La Barohne D'Autin 
 Mile. Melanie 
 Mile. Deschamps 
 Fichu {the Countess' maid) 
 G 
 
 {friends of 
 the 
 Countess) 
 
 Mr. George Vining. 
 Mr. P. Charles, 
 
 Mr. P. Dewar. 
 
 Mr. Ashley. 
 
 Mr. W. H. Stephens. 
 
 Mr. Garstin Behnore. 
 
 Mr. Bayley. 
 
 Mr. Cockrill. 
 
 Mr. Lever. 
 
 Mr. Henry. 
 
 Mr. Gordon. 
 
 Mr. Meline. 
 
 Miss Herbert. 
 
 Miss Ellen Turner. 
 
 Miss Isabel Adams. 
 
 Miss Phoebie. 
 
 Miss Reynolds. 
 
 Miss French. 
 
 Miss Cooke. 
 
 Miss Graham. ' 
 
 Miss LUlie Lonsdale. 
 
WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 *' Married in Haste " was now ready, and was 
 produced at the Olympic Theatre on the 10th of 
 November, 1862, under the altered title of 
 " Camilla's Husband." * This was, perhaps, the most 
 successful of his productions after " The Dead 
 Heart," and owed much to the effective playing 
 of Mr. Henry Neville, at that time peculiarly 
 fitted by his person and " gallant " style of playing 
 characters of romance. 
 
 This drama was dedicated to Henry Neville, 
 and met with a very cordial reception from the 
 
 * The bill ran :— 
 
 "CAMILLA'S HUSBAND." 
 
 (An Original Drama in Three Acts.) 
 Characters. 
 
 Sir James Hailstone 
 Sir Philip Hailstone 
 Sir Thomas Kendal 
 Major Lumley 
 Captain Shrimpton 
 Dogbriar 
 Maurice Warner 
 Hyacinth Jonquil 
 Maybush 
 Chowler 
 
 (Ids son) 
 
 , . Mr. James. 
 . Mr. G. Vincent. 
 . Mr. Franks. 
 . Mr. H. Cooper. 
 . Mr. H. Rivers. 
 . Mr. F. Robson. 
 ( Mr. H. Neville. 
 ( Mr. W. Gordon. 
 (Landlord of the " Bed Lion ") . Mr. H. Wigan. 
 
 . (A smith) . . Mr. C. Harwood. 
 
 > (Artists) 
 
 /Servants, gentlemen, villagers. 
 Lady Camilla Hailstone ..... Miss Kate Saville. 
 
 Lady Roseville Miss Grant. 
 
 Miss Placida Poyntz Mrs.LeighMurray. 
 
 Red Judy . . (wife of Dogbriar) . Mrs. Stephens. 
 
 Slowberry . , (their daughter) . Miss F. Haydon. 
 
<^ hMt. 'ToAZhA 
 
 
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 '^^kukjt, <^ '>v»/2.- y<^ ^^Vm- CaMIa. frucejL' ^^LiAm, fc^a 
 
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 1 ir(^ ^^JL Cr>vo»._ >*te*v^ J (rrryJUi^jUiU^ sA m i„ 
 
 «s'a-ot cool. i>i-*uy^ a/>>.«£. ^ t*i-CL -y^/Tv aca. »— 
 
 •/oJl/'cJU.c ULoicL 
 
 
 *7)tt, i>.A«* aa-?.* /e/j'. 
 
"TEE TIGKET OF LEAVE." 9& 
 
 public and the critics. Its poor author, however, 
 could not yet qiiit his enforced exile to witness the 
 performance. In the same year the Briarean 
 dramatist had a farce, also produced at the 
 Adelphi, "The Ticket-of-Leave," not the melo- 
 drama of nearly the same name, and which, in the 
 hands of Toole, Paul Bedford, and Mrs. Billington, 
 was perfectly successful. Toole as "Aspen Quiver "^ 
 was at his best, and is still fresh in the memory. 
 As the author wrote — 
 
 " The Ticket-of-Leave " was written five years or more 
 ago for Webster, but not produced. I suggested it for the 
 present time ; he jumped at the notion, and it has proved 
 a screaming success ; and the acting-manager added, 
 " There's no mistake about ' The Ticket-of-Leave ' pulling 'em 
 in. We've empty house to the whole price, but good ones 
 to- the half. The people scream with laughter; and the 
 governor finds it the ' ticket,' and no mistake." So much 
 so that it is now played before the pantomime. " Camilla's. 
 Husband " is a mighty success ; so much so that Kobson 
 appears in no burlesque this year; the first time for many. 
 It's a Belgravian success, Wych Street being, they wrote 
 me, blocked up nightly with a line of carriages as in the 
 Vestris time. Alas ! it is not the author who gets rich. 
 
 We are almost bewildered in attempting to re- 
 call the profusion of pieces which were now being 
 poured forth from this busy pen. "Lost in Lon- 
 don," so long deferred, put aside, and put off, was. 
 G 2 
 
100 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 now positively to be produced, as soon as Miss 
 Woolgar (now Mrs. Mellon) had recovered from 
 her illness. But the " unlucky piece," as the author 
 always considered it to be, was again postponed, 
 the reason being Webster's failing health. En 
 revanche, he was gratified by the production of 
 "Paul's Return,"* which had almost the success 
 of " Camilla's Husband." 
 
 The success of these pieces, as usual, brought 
 the author fresh commissions, which, equally as 
 usual, the undaunted author accepted. Accordingly, 
 we now hear of *' The Woman in Mauve" and the 
 
 * The bill ran— 
 
 PAUL'S RETURN." 
 
 Characters. 
 
 Richard Goldsworthy 
 
 Creoffrey Goldsworthy 
 
 Howard Flyntskin , 
 
 Paul Goldsworthy 
 
 Herbert . 
 
 Abel Honeydew 
 
 Beeswing 
 
 Miss Zenobia Goldsworthy 
 
 Mrs. Geoffrey Goldsworthy 
 
 Beatrice Goldsworthy 
 
 Blanche Wilton 
 
 Mrs. Clampit 
 
 Mr. Vining. 
 Mr. C. Seyton. 
 Mr. H. Mellon. 
 Mr. John Nelson. 
 Mr. H. Forester. 
 Mr. David Fisher. 
 Mr. R. Cathcart. 
 Mrs. H. Marston. 
 Miss Caroline Carson. 
 Miss Kate Saville. 
 Miss Rebecca Powell, 
 Mrs. Hill. 
 
"THE WOMAN IN MAUVE." 101 
 
 " Huguenot Captain." No wqnder he wrote in 
 June, 1864, that — 
 
 My notes are doomed of late to . be short ; I am so 
 overcome with work that I have no time to write long 
 letters. I hope, if I succeed in getting the original piece, 
 " Jane Shore," I am preparing for Madame Judith (the first 
 tragedienne of the FrauQais), accepted in France, as well as 
 in England* I shall be elected a member of the French 
 Authors' Society, and then shall hope to write for the 
 Ftench stage as well as the English. Webster tells me 
 that " Lost in London " is on the eve of appearing again. 
 
 But, as it proved, Webster failed in his promise, 
 and the author was once more doomed to disap- 
 pointment. 
 
 Sothern appears in my new comedy, " The Woman in 
 Mauve," at Christmas, and is coming over next month to 
 spend a few days with me d, propos of a new idea of a great 
 character for him. I have been very unwell. My frightful 
 digestion ! It has prostrated me for nearly a month, and 
 literally incapacitated me from working at my plots and 
 new ideas. However, I'm up and at my desk again — 
 shaken in health, but, thank God, strong in heart, and 
 never meaning to say die until the time comes. — Yours 
 affectionately. Watts. 
 
 Again, it may be noted how remarkable it is to 
 find an Englishman thus winning fame in the rather 
 
 * This scheme, however, was never carried out, owing to a 
 quarrel with the lady. 
 
102 . WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 exclusive circle of, French liUerateurSi It will be 
 seen that he complains of illness ; indeed, for the 
 future there was to be added to his heavy labours 
 the burden of struggling against disease. To find 
 inspiration for plots and characters when a prey to 
 headaches, indigestion, and pains of all kinds, is a 
 new suffering itself. But he surmounted all gal- 
 lantly. Fresh and yet fresh toils were imposed 
 upon him. 
 
 Thanks, and many thanks, for your kind letter, which 
 I will answer in a far more lengthy way ere long, but you 
 have no idea how much I am overworked. Thank God 
 the result will be apparent next year. Sothern has com- 
 missioned from me three original comedies, after having 
 
 read and refused manuscripts sent him by . The 
 
 compliment is great ; the fame, if successful, will be im- 
 mense ; the mental work, work awful. Boucicault has 
 shelved, for a time, my drama' at the Princess', while poor 
 Webster's failing health shelves " Lost in London." My 
 new comedy, " The Woman in Mauve," entre nous, appears 
 next year at the Haymarket. 
 
 I've just come back from the great camp at Chalons, 
 where I was sent to write an article. I did expect to have 
 a three weeks' absence from Paris, and a free trip to Madrid 
 on the opening of the great railway that, passing through 
 the Pyrenees, connects Paris with Madrid; but illness has 
 prevented it, so another of the press-gang got the job of 
 describing the Iron Dragon's invasion of the heart of 
 romantic Spain. It was a great disappointment. 
 

 
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 (/ yt^.- Ji^ 'r::,.jrj- 1 
 
 /^Ji^V^^^iT-j 
 
BAD HEALTH AND LOW SPIRITS. 103 
 
 I have been terribly worried by visitors to see me ; first 
 
 Sothern for a month, then E. J. Smith for a piece, which he 
 
 didn't get, then Bateman pere for the drama of "Jane 
 
 Shore," which he wanted to buy for his daughter. Then 
 
 Henderson, the Liverpool manager, and now Webster's 
 
 coming — aU take up time. I'm afraid this is a very, very 
 
 dull letter, but I am low-spirited from many causes. One, 
 
 and the most immediate, is that a few hours ago I left the 
 
 bedside of poor Vincent Wallace, who is dying rapidly, to 
 
 my idea. We are very close friends, and I have been 
 
 dishing into something like shape a portion of the new 
 
 libretto sent him from London — of course con awMre. I 
 
 fear he will never live to compose another "Lurline" or 
 
 " Maritana." His poor wife is in a sad way. I have asked 
 
 his boys to spend the evening with Leslie ; it will be a bad 
 
 thing for them, W.'s death, though I suppose his family 
 
 TThust get a good pension. 
 
 I am going to an immense party to-night — anibassa- 
 dors, dukes, marquises, and all kinds of people to dinner. 
 I wish I was not, for I feel both ill and weak ; bed would 
 be by far the more welcome place, but it's impossible to get 
 off. 
 
 In the letter in -which he speaks of " The 
 Woman in Mauve," he refers again to his severe 
 indisposition, being now under the advice of the 
 Emperor's physician, Dr. Reyer, who seemed to 
 have regarded the case most seriously. He con- 
 cludes— 
 
 I eat little, and drink little, but find life after all a 
 very poor and sad invention. So much, for the mufiied 
 
104 WATTS PEILLIP8. 
 
 bell. Now I will strike a gayer chord. It appears my 
 " Woman in Mauve " has been a most extraordinary 
 success in Liverpool. They wanted originality, and they've 
 got it, for the critiques declare that " such a piece has never 
 been seen before on the English stage,'.' and Sothem says 
 that the astonishment and enthusiasm were wonderful. It 
 win be produced in about six weeks at the Haymarket, and 
 they expect it will take London by storm. We shall see — 
 the piece is certainly one of the most eccentric character. 
 The idea was knocked out one summer's evening, when I 
 w'as racking my brains as to what kind of sledge-hammer 
 blow I could strike at the giant Sensation. I wrote it in 
 great pain, and it contains jokes enough for six. 
 
 I have sufficient work before me for the next six 
 months if I have sufficient strength to get through it. 
 That is the great difficulty! Plays may send my name 
 up sky high, though possibly I shall be sky high also. 
 
105 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 SOTHERN — " THEODORA," AND OTHER PROJECTS. 
 
 At this time the attraction of Sothem, in his 
 inimitable character of Dundreary, had waned; 
 and he conceived the idea that he had all 
 the necessary gifts for making a reputation, in 
 parts of more pretension, and even in tragedy! 
 In this curious delusion he perseyered almost to 
 his death, though the public always declined to 
 accept him au serieux. The lovers and chival- 
 rous characters that he now attempted were poor 
 performances : his voice even was inharmonious. 
 Still his popularity was unbounded, and caused 
 him to be accepted. A grotesque form of adver- 
 tisement, probably of American origin, was adopted 
 to introduce Watts PhUlips' new piece at the 
 Haymarket. 
 
 For some time there appeared on the walls 
 and hoardings a huge poster representing a frame, 
 with these words on a white ground " Watch this 
 frame ! " In due course the words were replaced by 
 the title of the forthcoming drama, " The Woman 
 
106 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 in Mauve." It was produced March 18tli, 1865, 
 and met, like the later Sothern creations, with but 
 moderate success.* 
 
 He was now engi'ossed with plans for bringing 
 forward his old spectacular tragedy " Theodora," 
 which had so long lain by him. "We also find 
 him busy with what was to be a favourite project 
 with him for many years — a drama on the subject 
 of "Marlborough" — and which, like most of his 
 favourite projects, he found perpetual difficulties 
 in getting appreciated. Such a subject, indeed, 
 seems likely to have been of a rather stilted 
 kind. 
 
 A letter to him from his friend Webster is 
 
 interesting, as exhibiting the depressing care and 
 
 uncertainties of theatrical life, where nothing seems 
 
 to go well, or steadily : — 
 
 Kenninoton Park, 
 April 2nd. 
 
 ' My Dear Phillips, — I have been going to ^vrite to you 
 
 * The caste was as follows : — 
 
 Frank Jocelyn . . {an artist) . Mr. Sothern. 
 
 The Count Mr. W. Farren. 
 
 Launoelot Harvey . (a surgeon) . . Mr. Howe. 
 
 Beetles. . . . (a policeman) . Mr. Compton. 
 
 The Countess . (tlie Woman in Mauve) . Miss Edith Stuart. 
 
 Lucy Harvey ...... Miss Lovell. 
 
 Mrs. Mary Ann Beetles .... Mr. Buckstone. 
 

 "1 
 
 A moit d&tenmned\ot ot stii33e has ti«en 
 ooiiiinitted by a boy of fourteen, vexed 4itB*i,' 
 imperfect fitting of a >ne# , enit of dothes pl. 
 Having strapped bia ancles together, be pro- 
 cecded to bang MUiBelf in tiucb a manner as to/ 
 snggest a thoroughness of pbrgose. n .* i. " " * ' 
 
 r^. 
 
 uiii 
 
 
 iL 
 
 \^^-x;^i^'* w^ c^ *^^ 
 
WEBSTER'S TROUBLES. 107 
 
 every day, but I could hear nothing satisfactory to com- 
 municate. I have scarcely ever been outside this room 
 since my return, for I have been very queer in health and 
 worried in mind ; for nothing is settled, nor does it promise 
 a settlement. 
 
 If you had read the Friday's Telegraph, you would 
 have seen that I was at the Fund dinner, though un- 
 expected, and I should have been in for the "Drama," 
 but escaped luckily with toasting only the vocalists. I 
 met Dickens in the afternoon by accident, and he insisted 
 upon my being present, consequently everyone now knows 
 that I am in London, to iny cost. I am smothered in 
 letters, and my bell worn out with calls, so that I regret 
 leaving Kue Lafitte. Unfortunately I had bad news from 
 Wales on my arrival ; I must go down there, but it will 
 not, I fear, be a pleasant journey. Strange to say, the old 
 " Wreck Ashore " is drawing money. We had a capital 
 week last week, which is considered the worst in the year. 
 
 I saw Shepherd yesterday, and of course "Theodora" 
 was uppermost. He says it will be well got up, and I have 
 lent him the properties out of " Sardanapalus " from the 
 Princess'. He wishes he could have afforded to spend more 
 on it. He don't seem to know what " Avonia " will do with 
 the part, but thinks she is not up to it. I believe, at least 
 Gideon told me, they have been obliged to make two acts 
 of one in consequence of the change of scenery, so it will be 
 in six acts instead of five. Hingston having dropped his 
 extra advertisements. Shepherd dropped his, so there has 
 been no puffing for the last few days. Shepherd said that 
 Hingston was going to do wonders with " Theodora " ; but 
 as yet has done nothing ; only one biU with " Avonia 
 Jones " in Greek. She has been receiving at the rate of 
 
108 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 £100 per week, and says that does not pay her. I hear 
 she goes to Australia from here, owing to Brooke's death. 
 I will be at the first representation, and will write to 
 Buckingham, or see' him. I had a long talk with Miss 
 Glynn about " Marlborough." It seems she had consented 
 to enact the Duchess which she said was very good in the 
 two first acts, but fell off in the last. She said that Sothem 
 could never have acted Marlborough, especially the last 
 act ! and that she told him so. She could see me in the 
 character, and should be delighted to be my Sarah. 
 
 Buckstone could not, he sai(J, get his own part in 
 Marston's comedy into his head. There was some 
 difference of opinion as to its merits in the provinces. 
 Sothem 'must mind what he is about. He is going to 
 have another trial with the spirit-rappers. 
 
 Give my love to Mrs. Stirling, and pretty Mrs. Lee, and 
 best regards to good old Whitehurst. 
 
 For yourself^ you have my warmest friendship, and 
 please God, St: Prix shall see me your guest, where I shall 
 be at home I know and feel. 
 
 Yours faithfully, 
 
 B. Webster. 
 
 This is an interesting letter from the worthy, 
 sterling manager. But "Ben" Webster's own 
 troubles were gathering about him. He was now, 
 with his company, falling out of fashion — hanging 
 '* on a rusty nail." It is sad to think of the decay 
 that overtook him and his friend Buckstone, both 
 "lagging" somewhat ingloriously on the stage, and, 
 
PABIS COBBESPONDENT. 109 
 
 in their decay, often to be seen hovering about the 
 Caf^ de I'Europe in the Haymarket. 
 
 As usual, all sorts of dreams and speculations 
 as to his new favourite filled the dramatist's soul. 
 Every one who read it was enchanted. He would 
 take stock of his vast projects and of his numerous 
 pieces, which 
 
 must some day be acted, and make me a name for a 
 tombstone. Why, there is a dj-arrvatic Testation itselj 
 locked lip in a box. It's heart-breaking ! Webster has 
 " The White Dove of Sorrento/' " By. the Sad Sea Wave," 
 "Dr. Capadose's PiU," "The Half Brother," " Maud's Peril,' 
 and" Lost in London." Sothern has "Marlborough" and 
 another splendid character piece, and a drama ! D. B, 
 wants comedy. Vining has two great sensation pieces 
 Ten plays! All this besides? my regular work, and th( 
 pieces now in hand. 
 
 Though requested" to do it, I was from sheer break- 
 down compelled to refuse to act as Paris correspondent foi 
 the Daily Telegraph for a month or six weeks lasi 
 Christmas. They call me " Correspondent Unattached " t( 
 that paper, and nothing but necessity would have inducec 
 me to refuse to oblige people who have done me inucl 
 good, especially as it is difficult to find persons abroac 
 capable to write letters such as they require at a shor 
 notice. I did the September letters for the month, bu 
 couldn't do more from mere lack of time. 
 
 Sothern, I think, will not remain very long at thi 
 Haymarket — nous verrons. 
 
 QUITE BETAVEEN OURSELVES. Phelps is charmed wit] 
 
110 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 the part of " Marlborough," and is (this is private) work- 
 ing heaven and earth to get it done, for Sothem, who is 
 my friend, will sell back the piece if other parties will 
 consent — but there is a certain fable called " The Dog in 
 the Manger." Phelps has just sent me his photograph. 
 He is much changed, but a splendid actor all say, and Tny 
 -man — if we can work it — -for the Duke. He says the 
 drama is admirable indeed — splendid in all parts. Again, 
 noios verrons. 
 
 Mr. Shepherd is coming over to stay a few days with 
 me next Saturday. I will see about Jefferson. Avonia 
 Jones, or rather Mrs. G. V. Brooke, was scarcely able to get 
 through her part. She had not eaten, she tells me in a 
 letter just received, since the news reached her of the 
 " London," and, to make her grief the more bitter, it was by 
 her persuasion that Brooke left earlier than he intended, to 
 arrange for her, and also by her warm persuasion that his 
 sister Fanny accompanied him. She is nearly mad with 
 grief, she says — grief and remorse. What a world of 
 sorrow it is ! Only a few months ago' she was over here as 
 happy as a bird — if birds are really happy, with falcons, 
 hawks, to say nothing of sportsmen, hovering about them. 
 
 I have had to write to Fechter, who asserted (without 
 seeing more than the bills) that my " Theodora " was only 
 an adaptation from a piece called "Valeria." I have 
 written, and written sharply. D. B. said he knew the 
 drama was one whose name he'd forgotten, but Rachel had 
 acted in it. And Barnett, Lacy, Leicester Buckingham (so 
 Mrs. Brooke writes me) echoed this opinion. Pleasant, 
 when an author writes, with the most perfect honour and 
 trust, the words "entirely original" upon his piece, to 
 have even before production the contrary insinuated among 
 

 
8I0Z OF ENGLANV. Ill 
 
 all the critics. However, I've been pretty plain. I assert 
 my play is original in the fullest sense of that elastic word, 
 and he who asserts otherwise is either a knave, a fool, or a 
 liar — probably the three. 
 
 I'm sick of England and the EngUsh, and would give 
 ten years of my life had I been born a native of this great 
 nation of literature and art, rather than one of a people 
 whose literature now is " robbery ill-concealed " ; and, as 
 every " author " has his hand in a Frenchman's pocket, he 
 suspects the " originality " of everyone else. In France 
 dramatists make fortunes in a few years, and, before a man 
 has written half-a-dozen great pieces the cross of honour 
 ghtters at his button-hole. Eliza Cook was right, and if an 
 Englishman is a dramatic artist " a flush should rise from 
 cheek to brow as he speaks of his native earth." 
 
 May I be luckier with " Marlborough " {that's not likely 
 to be French) and the " Huguenot Captain " ; the latter will 
 " be splendid. 
 
 Send me a telegram of the first night. I haven't, to 
 my knowledge, one friend in the house, and it's the most 
 important piece I have yet written. Shepherd refuses 
 orders, save the few, saying, "the piece wiU play itself." 
 So be it. Whatever the scenery may be, / designed it — all 
 of it. They knew as much of the time as I do of Sanscrit. 
 I have literally sketched aU the dresses. 
 
 The piece was produced in due course, but with 
 rather disheartening result. His friend Webster 
 wrote him an account of the first performance. 
 
 April 14ith. 
 My dear Phillips, — I have purposely delayed writing 
 
112 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 to you, knowing that you would have lots of congratulatory 
 letters from others. 
 
 Of course, I and my son Ben were all there the first 
 night. There had been no stir made about the piece, con- 
 sequently there was a bad house. I do not understand the 
 change in the policy of Mrs. G. B. and Hiugston, but they 
 have absolutely let the piece down by want of the usual 
 bUling and puffing. 
 
 It went exceedingly well; not one note of disap- 
 probation from beginning to end. It was badly acted 
 in general, but the scenery and dresses were excellent. 
 Mrs. G. B. had neither brain nor physique for Theodora. 
 She looked uncommonly well in the first half-naked dress, 
 but the best, and only good thing she did throughout the 
 play, was where she sits on the throne "robed and 
 crowned " to meet King Death. The consequence was that 
 the spectacle overrode the dramatic element. The second 
 night went much better, but she cannot touch the part. The 
 fine scene was scarcely heard, and was an awful faUure for you. 
 
 I send you two papers. The Advertiser also is good, 
 but I could not get one. The infernal humbugging Reform 
 BiU kept the notices out of some of the papers.* 
 
 * It would seem that to this spectacular piece the Theodora of 
 the "divine Sarah" was somewhat indebted. The author — 
 Sardou — addressed this letter to M. Mayer, of the Gaulois — 
 
 December 27, 1883. 
 
 Oui, men cher Mayer, il y a une Theodora Italienne et une 
 
 Theodora Anglaise, et de plus une pifece Fran^ais intitul^e 
 
 " L'Imperatrice et la Juive"; et j'aime mieux avouer tout de 
 
 suite, fidfele a mon habitude c'est avec ces trois pifeces que j'ai 
 
 fait la mienne 
 
 Amitife. — ViCTOEiEN Saedou. 
 
WATTS PHILLIPS AND MB. G. A. 8 ALA. 113 
 
 A few years ago, -when M. Sardou's " Theodora " 
 had been produced in Paris, Mr. Sala, in . his 
 " Echoes of the Week," recalled, in very kind 
 terms, the " Theodora" of Mr. Phillips. 
 
 On receipt of a letter thanking him for his 
 remembrance of his dead friend, Mr. Sala sent the 
 following reply, which it is hoped he will not 
 object to being reprinted here : — 
 
 38, York Koad, Brighton, 
 
 Friday, September 26th, 1884. 
 My dear Miss Phillips, 
 
 "Why cert'nly" I remember to have heard Watts 
 talk of " Theodora," but. I never saw the drama. Is it in 
 print, and to whom does the cop3Tight belong, I wonder? 
 If Sardou's play is successful, it wiU surely be produced in 
 this country; and — it would warm the cockles of my 
 heart to incite some London manager to bring out a 
 " native " version of " Theodora." 
 
 Faithfully yours, 
 
 George Augustus Sala. 
 
 The drama was [and is] in print — in the Lacy 
 edition. In an interview with Mr. French he stated 
 that the copyright was his ; also that he was of the 
 opinion that the expense of scenery, &c., would, 
 at any rate at that time, be an obstacle to its 
 reproduction. 
 
 H 
 
114 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 Mr. Wright, of Paris, has kindly furnished 
 some interesting notes, supplied by one who knew 
 Watts Phillips well during the time he was re- 
 siding in that capital. 
 
 "'Theodora' was brought out at the Surrey 
 Theatre, April 9th, 1866, under the management 
 of Mr. R. Shepherd ; and the author, knowing what 
 a cheese-paring kind of manager Dick Shepherd 
 always was, added the following foot-note in the 
 MS.: — 'Note. — In the make-up of the coloured 
 people in this drama, I pray the management to 
 see that they are savage and picturesque, and not 
 like Ethiopian serenaders.^ 
 
 " He always asserted, and defied contradiction, 
 that although living in France for years, he never 
 produced a translation from the French but once, 
 and that was his four-act drama of ' Not Gruilty,' 
 brought out at the Queen's Theatre, Long Acre, 
 February 22nd, 1869, the principal parts being 
 played by Messrs. Sam Emery, J. L. Toole, 
 L. Brough, John Claytonj W. Stevens, Henry 
 Irving, and Mrs. Labouchere (then Miss Henrietta 
 Hodson). 
 
 " This piece was an adaptation of ' Le Comte 
 de Sainte-H^lfene,' a melodrama in five acts and 
 seven tableaux, by MM. Desrioyer and Nus, and 
 

 
LIFE IN PABI8. 115 
 
 acted for tlie first time at the Th^^tre de la Gajt^, 
 Paris, March 24:tli, 1849. 
 
 " At the time Watts Phillips Kyed in Paris, 
 Benjamin Webster made it his study to pass most 
 of his holidays there, so that he and Watts were 
 almost inseparables ; they dined every Saturday 
 and Sunday evening at the H6tel Byron, Rue 
 Favart, near the Op^ra Comique. The hotel 
 was supposed to be an English one, and was 
 piloted by Jemmy Outhwaite, a stage gasfitter 
 by trade, and who, during his career, had been 
 employed at both the Adelphi and Lyceum 
 theatres. 
 
 " He used to give a good English dinner for 
 three francs, which sum included a half bottle of 
 red or white wine. 
 
 "Phillips was a great friend and adviser of 
 Mdme. Duverger, an actress noted more for her 
 jewellery than stage talent. She was one night 
 at the Bal des ArtisteSj then held annually at 
 the Opdra Comique. She had on her neck one 
 of the most handsome and valuable pearl three- 
 rowed necklaces ever seen or worn even by 
 royalty, which she was very near losing in con- 
 sequence of the snap, through constant usage, 
 giving way, so, for fear of them dropping, she 
 H 2 
 
116 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 took them off her neck and carried them for a 
 
 time in her hand. 
 
 " Whilst walking in the foi/er, about three in 
 the morning, her eyes by chance fell on Watts 
 Phillips. Showing him what she held in her hand, 
 and explaining that they might have been trampled 
 on or lost, she gave them to him to guard until 
 some time the next day. 
 
 " Watts had no sooner been put in possession 
 of the necklace, than he walked to the mantel- 
 piece, and took from his pocket a white handker- 
 chief. Whilst in the act of carefully folding 
 up the pearls, he was pounced on by two detec- 
 tives, who were on duty and most gentlemanly 
 made up in evening dress, and who there and 
 then arrested him as an English * sweH mobs- 
 
 man.' 
 
 "Watts, who was a thorough French scholar, 
 explained the situation of his being in possession 
 of the necklace ; but the officers and the mob by 
 whom Watts was surrounded would not believe 
 him, so that he was hustled out of the theatre 
 and hurried off to the police station, in the Rue 
 de Choiseul, where he was kept until eleven o'clock 
 in the morning, it having unfortunately hap- 
 pened that when Mdme. Duverger left the theatre 
 
LIFE IN PARIS. 117 
 
 she did not go home, but went with a friend to 
 supper and stayed in her company at her house 
 until ten in the morning. When she reached her 
 own dwelling she was met by a police agent, who^ 
 after explaining his errand, was sent off; but 
 before he arrived at the station-house, Mdme. 
 Duverger had been there and got poor Phillips 
 hberated." 
 
118 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 EETIEEMENT TO EDENBRIDGE. 
 
 In this year he -vy^as enabled, after a long absence, 
 to return to England, where he was destined to 
 reside for the rest of his life. It must have been a 
 wrench for him to quit his much-loved Boulevards, 
 where he had found so many friends. We have 
 seen where his preference lay, and what a high 
 opinion he held of the French nation. 
 
 The occasion of his return was the production 
 of his new drama, " The Huguenot Captain," * of 
 which piece he had great hopes. To add to its 
 attraction he had brought from Paris some gro- 
 tesque dancers, '' The Clodoches," whose fantastic 
 pirouettes caused astonishment. He established 
 himself on Haverstock Hill, at Eaton Villas, where 
 all his old friends — ^Webster, Toole, Clarke, Bel- 
 
 * This piece had a narrow escape from destruction. Mr. Cole- 
 man relates how it had been entrusted to him to bring to London, 
 and how, in the hurry of the journey, he had lost it. After much 
 trouble it was discovered at the Charing Cross Hotel, where it had 
 been forgotten. 
 

 
 
 
 '^^•/) 
 
 q"( ( 
 
 
 
 •M, .,:;4''"i:> 
 
 ''All"" 
 

 ''■'■ tl^h^ 
 
 i 7 OAiH. i*.|Lvw»oLA iT^-* 
 
 fe. lei- m^|,'«( JftAjOli JUiUc 
 
LOST IN LONDON. 119 
 
 more, Mrs. Stirling, and others — gathered round 
 him. In Paris he had met and known that 
 attractive actress, Miss Neilson, who was now to 
 take the leading character in his play. There was 
 also that admirable comedienne, Mrs. Stirling, with 
 Augusta Thompson, and the showy, effective 
 Vining. 
 
 The cast was as follows : — 
 
 Characters. 
 
 Hector de Savigny (Z>mc d'Armonville). Mr. J. Shore. 
 
 Rend de PardiUau / ^'^^ ^^^^oi j ^^ ^ 
 ( captain) ) 
 
 Ambrose Pard , Mr. W. R. Robins. 
 
 Annibal Locust ..... Mr. George Honey. 
 
 Mousqueton ..... Mr. R. Cathcart. 
 
 Etc. Etc. 
 
 The Duchess Jeanne . . . Mrs. Stirling. 
 
 Gabrielle ...... Miss Neilson. 
 
 Juanita . .... Miss Augusta Thompson. 
 
 The Ballet under the direction of Mr. Milano. 
 
 At last the long-delayed and much-buffeted 
 " Lost in London'' was to be brought forward, a 
 piece with which its author always associated ill- 
 luck. Webster had intended performing the lead- 
 ing character, " Job Armroyd," himself, but was 
 
;i20 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 obliged to withdraw, owing to illness.* The play 
 
 was received with much applause, but the author's 
 
 presentiments as to its being " unlucky'' were to be 
 
 justified. 
 
 Five years ago [he writes] I wrote the drama m. ques- 
 tion, with an eye to Mr. Benjamin Webster in the principal 
 rdle, and it was to that gentleman I sold the London copy- 
 right. Since then the piece has been frequently in re- 
 hearsal, and a portion of the scenery painted, though 
 circumstances over which I had no control postponed its 
 production. Some time back Mr. Webster informed me 
 that a person in his employ had levanted to America, 
 
 * In the bill was this rather unusual announcement : — " Mr. 
 Benjamin Webster, finding recovery from his present serious ill- 
 ness to be impossible without perfect rest and relief from pro- 
 fessional anxieties, has yielded to the advice of his medical 
 adviser, Edwin Canton, Esq., and his friends, and prevailed upon 
 Mr. Henry Neville to undertake the character originally written 
 for Mr. Webster." 
 
 The caste of the play was as follows : — 
 
 ^■„' -F-, .1 , ( (owner of the ) ,_ . ,, 
 Gilbert Featherstone J ^ , "^ . ■ >■ Mr. Ashley. 
 ( Blackmoor mine) ) 
 
 Job Armroyd {miner) .... Mr. H. Neville 
 
 {his first appewranice). 
 
 . Mr. Paul Bedford. 
 
 . Mr. J. L. Toole. 
 
 . Mr. C. J. Smith. 
 
 . Miss NeUson. 
 
 . Mrs. Alfred Mellon 
 
 {late Miss Woolgar). 
 
 Jack Longbones {mimer). 
 Benjamin Blinker {a London tiger) 
 Tops {a postboy) . 
 
 NeUy 
 
 Tiddy Dragglethorpe 
 
FAILING HEALTH. 121 
 
 taking with him, besides other property, a MS. copy of 
 " Lost in London." The result of this act of rascality was 
 soon apparent, in the production, under another title, of my 
 unpublished, and hitherto unacted, piece at one or more of 
 the American theatres. Mr. WaUack, it appears, has now 
 gone to work with even greater boldness, restoring to the 
 stolen goods the original title. The drama of " Lost in 
 London " is entirely original. 
 
 I am perfectly weU aware there is no law to protect a 
 published work or an acted drama from American piracy ; 
 hut this piece has neither been published nor acted — simply 
 stolen, as much so as if my desk had been broken open, or 
 my watch drawn from my pocket. 
 
 The London copyright of " Lost in London " (a title, un- 
 fortunately, but too appropriate) belongs, as before said, to 
 . Mr. Webster, and to that gentleman I refer for the truth of 
 the statements contained in this letter. 
 
 Notwithstanding ominous signs of rapidly fail- 
 ing health, the flow of new plays continued with 
 extraordinary abundance. In 1867 we hear of two 
 fresh pieces, "Nobody's Child," produced by Messrs. 
 Shepherd and Creswick, on September 14th, and 
 of "Maud's Peril," at the Adelphi, on October 
 23rd, in which that sympathetic actress. Miss 
 Herbert, had a part. Two other pieces were ia 
 hand. " Fettered " was brought out at the Holborn 
 Theatre in February, 1869, and " Not Guilty " at 
 the Queen's in the same month. At the same time 
 
122 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 two revived pieces of his, "Paper Wings" and 
 
 " The Dead Heart" were being performed. 
 
 Thus was witnessed the almost unique spectacle 
 of four plays from the same pen being in repre- 
 sentation at the same moment. * 
 
 The agreeable, versatile author was now to find out 
 that his own prolific gifts were an obstacle to the pro- 
 secution of his labours : while the eagerness of his 
 many friends to enjoy his company, joined with his 
 own rehsh for social delights, became a serious 
 interruption. Not an hour could he call his own. 
 Nor could this order of life be beneficial to his 
 feeble health. Of a sudden he took the course of 
 flying altogether from Town, and buried himself, at 
 " The Firs," in the charming Kentish village of 
 
 * This phenonomen was thus commented upon in Punch : — 
 
 A THEATEICAL FOUR-IN-HAND. 
 
 Mr. Watts Phillips has performed — or shall we say, there has 
 been performed by the aid of that gentleman — a theatrical feat 
 which Mr. Punch holds it just to note. Four London theatres 
 are now playing important pieces by Mr. Phillips, and three of 
 these were produced within the same week. Of the respective 
 and comparative merits of the leash, the Great Censor, having 
 been too much engaged with Mr. Gladstone to have many spare 
 evenings, does not as yet intend to say aught. But he has 
 witnessed the revival of one of Mr. Phillips' plays, " The Dead 
 Heart." He retains his opinion that this is one of the best 
 Adelphi dramas which has ever been produced. 
 
IN THE OOUNTBY. 123 
 
 Edenbridge. This remedy was scarcely a whole- 
 some one ; and to a brilliant man of letters, who de- 
 lighted in social converse, soon became intolerable. 
 He fancied, however, that he found intense delight 
 in this new rural attraction and in the company of 
 his books. 
 
 The country [he wrote] looks beautiful. Spring, has 
 come with a hurst. What do you think of these two 
 incidents ? A stag leaped into our garden the other day, 
 and we saw the full hunt come sweeping over hedge and 
 ditch ; then came the dogs after the stag, and we watched 
 the chase for miles. 
 
 The second incident took place half an hour ago, and 
 the excitement continues. Sitting at my study window I 
 saw a yard of snake crossing the road from the opposite 
 field to our neighbour's front hedge, leaving its trad in 
 the dust behind it. Everybody is out searching, but as 
 yet, " no effects." Owing to the foolish destruction of the 
 hedgehogs by the Farmers' Club last year, this part of 
 Kent swarms with vipers, keeping up the garden of Eden 
 analogy in admirable; completeness. There is a great 
 steeple-chase to-day within sight of the house. 
 
 He had now found many new friends, among 
 whom was Mr. — now Sir Frederick — Milbank, who 
 took a real interest in him, and Dr. Ord, the well- 
 known physician. No one more cordially appre- 
 ciated his versatile gifts. By Dr. Ord's valuable 
 professional advice, and thoughtful kindness, he 
 
124 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 was brought through many a serious crisis. To 
 both he addressed many of those gay, unre- 
 strained letters, so quaintly illustrated with some 
 of his most finished and humorous sketches, 
 which are such an adornment to this volume. 
 This has always seemed a most delightful exercise 
 of talent. The writer's fancy indulges itself in 
 irrepressible fancies, and the pen lends itself, as it 
 were, to these " gambols " without a thought of 
 "publication''; while there is evidence of a 
 geniality and goodwill in the devoting of time 
 and labour to the entertainment of friends.* 
 He wrote on January 1st, 1870 — 
 
 I have received a most warm and long letter from Mr. 
 Milbank, a real friend to me. How much I appreciate his 
 friendship I need not say. He is still at Braham Castle, 
 but comes up for the opening of Parliament, and has given 
 me an invitation to his new town house in Cromwell 
 Gardens. [ And later on ] The other letter was from Mr. 
 Milbank, enclosing one from Mr. Algernon West (Glad- 
 stone's private secretary). It appears that a letter I wrote 
 to Mr. Milbank, with a drawing, has found its way into 
 the hands of the great " Don " himself. My opinions upon 
 the difficulties of the then present political situation of 
 parties was fuUy expressed. 
 
 * Sir Frederick Milbank and Dr. Ord have carefully preserved 
 a nuinber of these fanciful eflforts, which they have, in the kindest 
 way, placed at Miss Phillips' disposal. 
 

 ;/7. 
 
 
 ^j> 
 
 
 '.«S 
 
 To 
 
 FOll 
 
 A sUcdiitUr 
 
 ^ /^*wy sTyAd . 
 
"SIGK AT HEART." 125 
 
 Mr. Milbank has asked me up to all the big palitiGal 
 speeches, but I haven't been to one of them. I haven't even 
 visited Cromwell Gardens since I last saw you. I get down 
 among my books and let the world slide, the end of which 
 wUl be, that if I go on as I am now doing, I shall shde very 
 soon into my grave. Labouchere on his return from Paris 
 gave a magnificent supper at the Queen's Theatre, to two 
 hundred. I was the first consulted and asked, but I did 
 not go. Nothing would suit me so well as an active 
 pohtical life ; I'd rather talk than write, and one of these 
 days I shall take Mrs. Chick's advice, and " make an eifort." 
 
 P.S. — ^I have a cook on trial, who declares she has 
 been cook at Baron Bramwell's, whose name thrusts itself 
 into her conversation as the head of Charles I. did into Mr. 
 Dick's memorial. Wonderful people have answered my 
 advertisements in the country papers. One asked' if 
 followers were supplied. Another asks to sleep out three 
 times a week,' as her health requires it. A third wants a 
 latch-key and the use of the piano when disengaged. A 
 fourth refused to cook a hot dinner on a Sunday, "as 
 displeasing to the Creator ! " 
 
 Oh ! what an ass they make of you ! 
 
 I'm sick of servants ! but then I'm sick of everything 
 but sunshine, and am aweary and aweary with the paths of 
 life. Like Lord Randal, I'm " sick at heart, aild would fain 
 lie down." 
 
 The house is looking perfectly charming ; the beauty of 
 the surrounding scenery is a compensation for many 
 worrie?. I have an uninterrupted view for miles and miles 
 around of meadow and upland ; but the being here is a 
 mistake. This is "vegetating amidst vegetation. I avoid 
 
126 WATT8 PHILLIPS. 
 
 society, and read tremendously. Get up at four in the 
 momiag and read Political Economy, Ruskin, and Jolm 
 Mill. 
 
 I have never been in front of a curtain at the theatre 
 since I left London, and when I do go up it is from invita- 
 tions from managers. I had a ticket sent me for the 
 Theatrical Fund Dinner, with an invitation to speak. 
 
 Your questions about " Axe and Crown " (it's like the 
 sign of a public-house) I can't answer, not having seen 
 it.* 
 
 What a difference between this and Hill's Place, where 
 I had too many friends swarming in at all hours, and now 
 Zimmermann himself could not live iu a more complete 
 sohtude. 
 
 I see this on dit in all the papers : " Mr. Watts 
 Phillips is busily employed in Avriting a comedy of modem 
 life, as well as a new drama." Who has spread it, I don't 
 know. I certainly have the pieces on the stocks, but the 
 atoclcs are one thing and the funds another. ■ 
 
 At this time the French and German war had 
 broken out, and, from his ardent sympathies with 
 the grande nation^ he felt in the most poignant 
 way the sufferings that were overwhelming it. As 
 he said, " I can't write about it. I feel my heart 
 lacerated with indignation." In many little touch- 
 ing ways he shows his feeling, as when he thought 
 
 * The late Mr. John Forster used to be equally merry on this 
 odd title, protesting that it could only be pronounced " Twix' Tax 
 and Crown." 
 
OFF TO SGOTLAND. 127 
 
 of the poor honest innkeepers with whom he used to 
 stay at St. Lieu. " I read a few days ago that the 
 Prussians would soon be in St. Lieu. I now see 
 that the Chassins are utterly, hopelessly ruined ; 
 their vineyards are destroyed, their inn abandoned, 
 their farm produce seized, and the whole family, 
 who had lived at St. Lieu for centuries, fugitives in 
 Paris. The news brought honest tears into my 
 eyes as I read." 
 
 He was more distressed when he learned of the 
 crowds of ruined refugees taking refuge in London, 
 and had recourse to an odd device to save him- 
 self from the pain of refusing an assistance which 
 he could not afford. He wrote to his friend 
 Coleman : — 
 
 Will you favour me by posting in Glasgow the enclosed, 
 and should any letters be sent to me under "your care," 
 please post them back here. The key to the mystery is 
 this : — Crowds of friends whom I knew in Paris in better 
 times are swarming over to London, especially French 
 actors and actresses, whom I should only be too happy to 
 serve were it in my power, but, alas ! I can't procure them 
 what I want so badly for myself. Nor, busy as I am, can I 
 afford the time to hasten, at every letter, up to London and 
 listen to their miseries, a sad task at any time, doubly so 
 when what they expect is impossible ! So, to have a quiet 
 Christmas, I have said that I have taken a few days' 
 hohday to visit you in Scotland. 
 
128 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 To the same trusted friend he sent this cha- 
 racteristic epanchement : — 
 
 Wish I could get away, but this war keeps me as closely 
 tied to the desk as a galley-slave is to his bench. My long, 
 long acquaintance with France and things French has made 
 my pen of late in constant requisition ; but, oh ! what a 
 sad business it is ! My heart bleeds while I write. What- 
 ever France's faults were, she deserves every brave and 
 honest man's sympathy now. Let us cut ourselves away 
 from the dead corpse of the Past; it is with the heroic 
 Present we have to do. / love France as much as I 
 despise those smug and self-sufficient traitors who have 
 brought her to this pass ; as much as I hate the moral 
 ugliness of that "pseudo Privy Councillor of God," 
 Holy King William, who stalks over a battle-field on 
 Bible stilts, and thanks Providence at each new act of 
 murder. 
 
 Ah, old boy, if you had only known France as I have 
 known her — not the putrescent society of Paris, which, 
 like fish in the dirt, glittered from its rottenness, but the 
 France of the workshop and the field, the France that is 
 now fighting while its demoralised army is in captivity, and 
 that will fight on to the bitter end — you'd be as sad as I 
 am at the bloody work that is going on. 
 
 There is one thing, be assured, this war wiU do, viz., 
 sweep away the lardy-dardy, frivolous puff pastry which has 
 so long defiled our stage. The age of confectionery is at its 
 death-grips. After every great national convulsion in 
 France there has been a change in England. There wUl 
 be a great one now. When a nation has passed through 
 the valley of the shadow, it begins to think 
 

 iok? 
 
 
 fUu '\hJ^^j y 
 
 ^- - ' :f. 
 
 
■ ■■MOBE DRAMAS. 129 
 
 France is passing through a Red Sea and will come out 
 purified. , 
 
 England's time of trial is not far off. In pohtics, in 
 war, in literature, rmn will come to the front. Phryne, 
 with her leer and her breakdown, Sporus, with his drawl 
 and his simper, will pass away from us, as they have 
 vanished for years to comg from Fraaice. Our authors 
 must do something more than cater for the jaded appetites 
 of the swell and his "lady," the inanity of the drawing- 
 rodm and the vice of the bOudoir. Above all, the public 
 will demand other actors than those who treat aU dramatic 
 creations as the Italian image man treats the casts he 
 carries on his head, polishing down every saHent feature, 
 till Shakespeare might pass for the Marquis of Lome, 
 
 and Milton and Moliere for B and P . — With a 
 
 warm shake of the hand, yours sincerely. 
 
 He was busy, as usual, with a number of 
 dramas. For his favourite piece "Marlborough" 
 he was still struggling to secure a hearingj but 
 with little success. All the persons to whom it 
 was ofEered spoke of it with the " highest regpect," 
 and even admiration, but somehow were " shy " 
 of talking it in hand. It was shaped and re-shaped 
 to their taste, but without result. One manager, 
 Mr. Vining, oddly enough, bought only the last 
 act; but later secured the previous ones. It was 
 finally made a present of to Mr. Coleman, who 
 still holds it. Our author had also in hand " Trial 
 
130 WATT8 FEILLIP8. 
 
 by Jury," with other pieces. At this time it 
 began to dawn upon him that his system of whole- 
 sale manipulation might not be so profitable aa 
 the more careful and deliberate one of concen- 
 trating his^, whole energies on single efforts to be 
 produced at long intervals. This was a wholesome 
 view, but such discoveries often come too late, 
 when the powers have been dissipated and the 
 old habit is too strong. He proclaims his new 
 view to his friend Coleman in a most characteristic 
 epistle. 
 
 Eagle Lodge, 
 
 Edenbridge, Kent, 
 April 18th, 1870. 
 
 My dear Coleman, — First of all a warm and friendly 
 shake of the hand, then to plunge into the " middle of 
 things " and talk of business. Twelve months ago, I had 
 two pieces produced in London, both without the success 
 very many previous productions of mine have received. 
 Here are the facts. 
 
 Labouchere brought me a French piece (a bad one) 
 with a big sensation scene. "Will you adapt this piece 
 for me? " he inquired. I replied that I didn't see a success, 
 and was answered that he was prepared to pay a big price, 
 and that if I did^not do it Tom Taylor would jump at it, 
 and that HaUiday would do it at one- third what either of 
 us would charge. I adapted the piece, pouched a good 
 sum, and the result was what I had predicted. 
 
LETTER TO MB. COLEMAN. 131 
 
 Another manager had a mania that "low life sensation" 
 was the one thing needed to make a theatre. What Tommy 
 Dod had done for one piece a "rat-pit" would do for 
 another. Again I gave way, and this time the failure was 
 positive. I pocketed the coin, read the criticisms, and 
 made a resolve never to write another piece unless I had 
 some beUef in the subject, and some higher aim than the 
 mere £ s. d. 
 
 Acting upon this resolve, and pretty confident as to the 
 fate of most of the stuff so rapidly turned out of the thea- 
 trical oven, I have withdrawn for a time from the arena, 
 nursing whatever little talent I have, to keep it warm, but 
 (and I say it most sincerely) disdaining the " you scratch 
 me and I'll scratch you" mode of doing business, which 
 fills the press with eulogies of "certain dramatists," and 
 empties the theatres ! I don't want to write again for the 
 stage tni I have the opportunity of creating an honestly 
 strong comedy or drama in which there is sometMng else 
 to be worked for besides the (always welcome) £ s. d. 
 
 So, like our ancient Roman Mend, I retire among my 
 cabbages, and get my bread and cheese, with now and then 
 a glass of claret, by writing novels and " articles for that 
 Palladium of British liberty, the immaculate and never (oh, 
 never !) prejudiced press. 
 
 Show me a really good subject for a strong, healthy 
 drama, and I will pounce upon it with avidity, but don't 
 let either of us be misled because certain celebrities are 
 " popular." 
 
 I was asked to adapt Frou-Frou. I refused the money 
 because I believed F.-F, was rot, and would never draw a 
 sensible British audience. It was only popular in France 
 because it tickled the outer cuticle of immoraHty. 
 I 2 
 
132 • WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 Not so Patrie—& very noble drama, though revolting 
 (like some of the plays of that mighty genius Hugo), but a 
 great d/rama for all that, though an impossible one for 
 England, where Sodom dreads no other fires than those 
 Captain Shaw and his brigade' can eificiently deal with ; 
 where aU is allowed if the curtain be down, and where vice 
 is virtue if it he well concealed, c 
 
 We have heaps of clever dramatists in brain and heart, 
 but banality rules the hov/r. Your friend Charles Reade 
 (with whom I see you are staying) is a noble exception. 
 He never writes without thinking, and even his worst 
 books are redolent of genuine endeavour of the best kind, 
 and full of manly strength and tenderness. 
 
 It's not for me to advise in business matters, my dear 
 Coleman, or to speculate in London. Your material must 
 be pure metal, and pure metal is not to be obtained with- 
 out many a painful process. 
 
 What I should want to write a piece such as I wish to 
 write, and would try to write for you, would be a fair sum 
 paid (pardon my being frank in business matters) a portion 
 down, to enable me to cast aside other work for the time 
 being, and the remainder as we may, after consultation, 
 determine. ' 
 
 Everything in London is in a deplorable state. Ro 
 theatre is really making money at the present time. 
 What may' be done is yet to be seen. 
 
 In May he wrote — 
 
 I write in haste, as you may imagine when I tell you 
 that I am under strict bond to write in six weeks from 
 May 1st a comedy, of which I have only as yet produced 
 the skeleton idea. I went up -on Friday last to sign the 
 
4^/?. 
 
 'trl' 
 
 ^^'^ ^ ^t'^''"'"''l 
 
 
 
 a'* >aT^^ 
 
 
 
 i¥<-. 
 
 
 ^^ 
 
 
IN THE OOUNTBY. 133 
 
 agreement. I had promised myself to come and see you, 
 but, being in town so seldom, I was overwhelmed with 
 business with Phelps, Beverley, and others, breaking, per- 
 force, several]^appointments. Then I had to dine with 
 Labouchere at^the Beform, and in the evening be at Mrs. 
 Crabbe's (Miss Herbert). The next day I lunched with 
 Mr. Milbank. I dined with Webster and Chatterton 
 (fancy my miserable digestion !) and had to rush to catch 
 the last train at 8.50. 
 
 The country here is simply fairy-land — beautiful — but 
 1 must come nearer London. I am bullied on every side, 
 and in last week's Day's Doings appeared an article (I am 
 totally ignorant by whom) upon the state of the drama, 
 and asking " What has become of Watts Phillips ? " Very 
 complimentary, saying that my fault was "writing too 
 weU." 
 
134 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 EETUEN TO TOWN — FAILING HEALTH AND DEATH. 
 
 About this time he found that living at the romantic 
 Edenbridge, however great its pastoral charm, kept 
 him too far from the sphere of his professional 
 labours. He now fixed himself in town at No. 45, 
 RedclifEe Road,* and was presently very busy super- 
 intending the rehearsals of " On the Jury." 
 
 *From his new house he sent out a pleasant little hand- 
 bill, which notified to his friends his change of quarters — ■ 
 
 WATTS PHILLIPS, 
 
 45, REDCLIFFE ROAD, EEDCLIFFE GARDENS, 
 SOUTH KENSINGTON. 
 
 W P. respectfully informs the Nobility, Gentry, and 
 his Friends in general, that he has commenced 
 Business at the above address. 
 
 Orders will be executed with punctuality, cleanliness, 
 and dispatch. 
 
 ^Ijztx^ ants (ffigara toljen celhis for. 
 
 W. P. has also a spirit licence, but no one will be 
 allowed to get drunk on the premises. 
 
 N.B. — It is requested that this notice will be hung 
 in a proininent,.part of the kitchen. 
 
"ON TEE JURY." 135 
 
 The piece [we find Mm writing February, 187-] has 
 been a big success, and, but for Phelps, would be carried on 
 (it is just possible) beyond Easter. He makes arrange- 
 ments, however, for Manchester, Birmingham, Liverpool, 
 and Dublin after that date, to take the comedy with him, 
 but Chatterton (Phelps' engagement, a long one, expiring at 
 Easter) will not renew it in London for the terms he asks — 
 £60 per week — the sum he is now receiving. It is pre- 
 posterous, but there is no reasoning with him, and when 
 Heaven calls to Samuel it must be in the silvery or 
 golden accents of £ s. d. The comedy wOl appear in New 
 York, Philadelphia, New Orleans, Chicago ! ! ! ! What a 
 people ! ! [This was after the fire of Chicago, which had just 
 been rebuilt] Boston and San Francisco within the next 
 four months. The Duke of Edinburgh, with my dear old 
 young friend EHot Yorke (the Earl of Hardwicke's son) 
 came round to compliment Phelps and Webster ; EHot re- 
 gretting that " dear old Watts " was not there. All speaks 
 well for the piece. . I had a pleasant hour on Saturday, for 
 going to the Princess' on business (I never go, if I can help 
 it, after the first night to see a piece of my own. The 
 faults are too glaring, and you are ready to cut your 
 throat to think how much better you oiught to have done 
 it), I met Theodore Martin (Bon Gaultier) and his accom- 
 pUshed wi^e (ex-Miss Helen Faucit), Bellew, and a heap of 
 people. All more than warm as regards the play; all 
 thinking the " sensation " scene might have been left out. 
 I told them that to introduce it (it was introduced after 
 the piece was written) I was compelled to twist a three-act 
 comedy into a four-act drama, and clip out strong writing 
 for the scene painter ; but Chatterton swore by the " gods," 
 and I fancy he was, in the £ s. d. view, right. 
 
136 W-^TTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 I am not at all weE Like Sterne's starling, "I can't 
 get put," -wliich, for a walker like myself, a lover of long 
 rambles in town or country, is death. But I have signed 
 articles to have an original piece ready, " Black Mail," for 
 the Adelphi by Easter. Impossible. I don't adapt ; I 
 don't translate ; and they will have to wait. Nevertheless, 
 they worry me dreadfully. Say I'm " the man risen up 
 from the dead, and must work double time till I go into 
 the country and sleep again." All very well, but I'm very 
 ill, for all that, and should cave in but for congenial com- 
 panionship. 
 
 You will not see " Marlborough " this spring ; there is a 
 slight row about it. I'm wanted to design scenes, dresses, etc. 
 I require £50 if I suggest dresses, draw them, and scenes, as 
 I am now doing for the Adelphi. Vining agreed to every- 
 thing. A great earthquake took place. Listen is to go 
 out of the theatre; Vining will, possibly, stiU hold on. 
 
 W. P r having npthing to gain by " Marlborough " but 
 
 fame, and cairmg very little about squeezing such a piece 
 into such a tiny, tin-pot theatre, sits like a painted angel 
 on a cloud, grinning at the strife. It is a sort of free fight ; 
 but / stand out. Altogether G. V. has paid about £450 
 for " Marlborough." Well, I hope he'U. get the money 
 back ; but he must be quick. It appears that Sothem 
 (who first purchased the play) sent a copy to America, and 
 before long it is possible, I hear, that it will be done in 
 splendid style over there. Vining swears by the piece as 
 " the biggest I have ever, etc., etc., etc." 
 
 On Friday, Sala, Labouchere, myself, and some others 
 went over Newgate by special invitation from Sheriff 
 Bennet .and the Under-Sheriff, given to me, and I asked the 
 party. We shall have lots to, t8.1k about when we meet. 
 
SUPFBB WITH THE CLAIMANT. 137 
 
 We were two hours and a half going over, and Labouchere 
 has described the visit, in the same amount of columns in 
 the Daily News. 
 
 Can't write any more. Miss Furtado is coming here 
 about some songs which I am introducing into her part, 
 and I must go and comb my scanty remnant of hair. I'll 
 send Harrison a box ; he's a good fellow — a very good 
 fellow. 
 
 Now, good-bye ! my hair is still uncombed and Furtado 
 approaches. — Yours, Watts. 
 
 Labouchere and I supped with the Claimant last week 
 Think it possible I dine at L.'s with Ballantine, Spofforth, 
 and Sir Eoger Orton Tichbome next Sunday. Will tell 
 you all about it when we meet. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 I am ill, angry, put out every way. 
 
 "Marlborough " comes out at Brighton on the 21st. I 
 have neither time nor inclination to go down to see it. 
 
 A few days ago I got a notice from the Queen's Theatre 
 that Sir Charles Young's play had proved worse than a 
 failure, a "Calamity," and that they had put "Amos Clark"* 
 in immiediate rehearsal. I wrote and protested. No good ! 
 Labouchere is on the Continent., A "scratch" company. 
 So, Uke Achilles, I remain in my tent — ^very grand, but 
 
 d d uncomfortable. Oxenford and Charles Reade dined 
 
 with me, or rather, I dined with them, the other day. The 
 one w^s fuU of " Amos " which he had read, and the other 
 of " Mlarlborough," which Yining had (without my know- 
 ledge) given Charles to " Reade." Rignold is Amos. 
 
 Woll, never mind, Achilles wiU not quit his tent, but 
 
 * Dramatised from his novel of that name. 
 
138 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 glowers and meditates taking the altitude of a bridge. 
 "Amos Clark" is .half reconstructed. I want to get a copy 
 of " Amos " to America by next mail, in a forlorn hope of 
 getting it out before the Yankee thieves can obtain any 
 shorthand copies. The Queen's people think " Amos " will 
 be a great go. 
 
 N'o ! No ! No ! With Wigan or Hermann Vezin, yes ; 
 possibly a big Yes ! 
 
 I haven't finished the Princess' piece yet, though it is 
 approaching its termination. It's a peculiar production at 
 least. 
 
 I'm in disgrace everywhe/re. Nobody loves me. Vining 
 is pelting me with letters from Brighton, and the knocker 
 is nearly wrenched off my door by messengers from the 
 " Queen's," but poor, grumpy AchiUes stUl sulks in his tent 
 and doesn't show. The game is not worth the candle. — 
 Thine, Watts. 
 
 At RedclifEe Road he saw much of his agreeable 
 neighbour — the ever-vivacious Sala — ^perhaps the 
 most original writer of our day. From him came 
 many a pleasant reminder of his vicinity — such as 
 a visiting card, with this humorous epigraph : — 
 
 / have been choking the whole week, and never out of my room. Convales- 
 cent for a little. Come in to-morrow evening. Quite alone. You ahall hear my 
 new cough. Come I Do t 
 
 J\Slt, Qeotae JiuauAtuA Saia.^ 
 
 TflcfotiH Qiu6. 
 
 Correspondant du Journal, 
 
 Le "Daily Telegraph," 
 Londrea, 
 
 et am! de I'humaniti. 
 

 .ur ' 
 
 v7y 
 
 ^ ^r!i/r A*^^ 
 
 
 
 
G. A. 8i 139 
 
 Friday Morning — in Bed — 
 
 A little better, but still d d bad 
 
 Dear Watts, — Can you lend me a copy of " Elia," tbe 
 " Old Benchers of the Temple,'' for half an hour ? I think 
 I am up to writing a leader to-day about a point in con- 
 nection therewith. 
 
 If you are well, enough, come and see a cove to-day 
 after fowr. Doctors come at half-past three. G. A. S. 
 
 Unhappily this topic of ill-health was one on 
 which both might claim reciprocal sympathy. 
 How acutely the overworked dramatist was suffer- 
 ing at this time will be seen from the following 
 letter to his physician, Dr. Canton. 
 
 I am much better; your prescription has relieved my 
 pain greatly, but it returns at the least excitement, but not 
 with the same cruel intensity as before. I stick manfully 
 to my work, as I am in honour bound to do ; but when you 
 see friends Chatterton and Churchill, obUge me by sa3mig 
 how ill I have been — ^how ill I am. I should not like them 
 to think me idle (idle ! ! ! ye gods ! and working on in the 
 pain I am suffering), nor careless of my promise. Do this 
 for me and oblige your friend and debtor, Watts. 
 
 " Amos Clarke," a pleasing, emotional drama, 
 was now brought out and introduced by that 
 capable actress Miss Wallis to the London stage. 
 It was well received, and is likely to be revived. 
 The author was called for, and now, I believe 
 for the first time, yielded to the favourite custom 
 
140 WATW PHILLIPS. 
 
 of being "called before the curtain." As he 
 bowed his acknowledgments, he did not perhaps 
 think that this was to be the last of his long 
 series of pieces that would be presented to an 
 audience. In his storehouse, however, he had 
 still others waiting performance, such as "Black 
 Mail," "A Rolling Stone," and "Doctor Cape- 
 dose's Pill." But his illness was fast gaining on 
 him, enfeebling all his energies, as will be seen 
 from his last pathetic letters. These shall speak 
 for him as the others have done hitherto. 
 
 It has got about that I am ill — I am rarely seen in 
 public, and birds of ill-omen — bless their cruel beaks ! — 
 shake their heads. I dare not go abroad in that weather. 
 I have firm faith in Dr. Ord, but we are apt to get im- 
 patient when the recovery is a slow one. Luckily the 
 brain was never better. 
 
 Here's another bit of my luck. The great Edwin 
 Booth took my " Marlborough " and " Amos " to bring out 
 at his theatre. I refused a dozen other offers — left every- 
 thing to him. He has suddenly been declared a bankrupt, 
 and the theatre — best in New York — ^has gone smash, and 
 there's an end for me for a time. 
 
 The enclosed — which please return — tells the true story 
 of " Black Mail" My luck again ! Chatterton was mad 
 about the piece, and thought of Emery and George Honey 
 (if they could not get the American genius J. C. Clarke) 
 for the part. Chatterton comes back to the Adelphi, but 
 Webster will not have " B. M " done without him, and that 
 
BAB HEALTH. 141 
 
 cannot be. But never despraid. Eemember what poor 
 dear Tom Hood said, " If your heart is hung too low, the 
 more reason to keep it up." 
 
 Thank God for books ! — I can bear ilhiess — I can bea;r 
 ■almost anything — if I can bury my nose in the pages af 
 a book, while I never forget j 
 
 " Each inly 'plains, and, in his weariness, 
 Envies his neighbour, racked by like distress... 
 None estimates the pains that others feel, 
 Since, as he hides his own, they theirs conceal ; 
 He bends his head, and murmurs in his heart, 
 ' The world is blessed, I only stand apart.' " 
 
 Andr6 Chenier said this, but, after all, he was guillotined. 
 Like Andr6 Chenier, I suppose I too shall die with a brag 
 (at least it will be an honest one) and tapping my marble 
 forehead assert " that there was something there." 
 
 Here's an egotistical letter for you ! — I'm ashamed of 
 it, so farewell. .Watts, 
 
 Tichborne called upon me last night, very smart and 
 clean, but there's a, decided touch of Wapping. 
 
 And 
 
 again — 
 
 The barometer of my health marks changeable. I lie 
 awake o' nights, and like Mr. Eugene Aram, I "stare 
 aghast at sleep." Dr. Ord says that I must have patience ; 
 (patience ! ! ! ye gods !) — that I am going on well, and that 
 he is sure to pull me through. I shall never be the Samp- 
 son, to say nothing of the Adonis, I once was. At present 
 he might "puU me through" the eye of a needle. You 
 inight photograph me as Milton's " Death," " a shadow of 
 a shadow." I have commenced my new stqry, but as yet. 
 
142 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 progress but slowly. Chatterton has not been up to dinner, 
 but is " coming." In fact, there is no theatre at his com- 
 mand for " Black Mail." When he ordered it he had the 
 Princess', and the Adelphi, and mine was to have been a 
 continued engagement — but in a week, the whole bright 
 edifice crumbled in. No small theatre will reimburse 
 Chatterton's outlay for " Black Mail," and so time goes on, 
 and what was fresh becomes antiquated. 
 
 Last Sunday I was knocked up. That noble fellow, 
 Ord — it being his only day — came up in his carriage to see 
 how I was. With him came Mrs. Ord. In the evening 
 entered Labouchere, then Sala and Mrs. Sala. Oh, horror ! 
 The Duke of Clarence never passed a worse night than I 
 did, and I had no Malmsey in the morning. 
 
 Labouchere has bought Pope's villa at Twickenham. 
 No. You have mistaken a little about "Black Mail" 
 I wanted to know your ideas, whether the advent of 
 Kenyon at the conclusion of the piece, as Duke of Ather- 
 ston would be understood by that most exacting of play- 
 goers, the " Pot-boy in the gallery." But we'll have a long 
 chat soon — a long, or rather to myself, a sliort day — and 
 huddled together round a handful of coal (bring us a lump 
 in your muff), talk pleasantly of everything and every- 
 body. 
 
 How I pray for qvAet ! I ought to live twenty years 
 longer, and do something more, and something better. I 
 am very patient, and few see under the mask I wear ; but it 
 wiU be hard indeed if, after my long iUness, and patient 
 obedience to the Doctor, I am to be printed in sheets, 
 bound in boards, issued by the Brompton Cemetery, and 
 republished — God knows where. I have sent the " Rolling 
 Stone" to Neville. It makes me tnad sometimes that I 
 
LETTER FROM CBUIKSHANE. 143 
 
 cannot go myself, but, Ord gays, any sudden movement on 
 my part may throw me back, and when I ask the managers 
 to come to me, they don't leave till they hear the chimes 
 at midnight. 
 
 What a changed man I am ! A year's self-communing 
 makes even afool think. I am not near, near, near weU. 
 Never shall be ! I only pray to keep my head above the 
 rising water, and that the Lord will "keep my memory 
 green." 
 
 Good-bye! God bless you all in the "ring fence of 
 home," and let us hope that what seems a superstition may 
 prove a truth, and we all have happier lives hereafter. 
 
 I know your friend Robert Brome very well ; he was a 
 fourth-rate poet, and for some time a servant to Ben 
 Jonson, wielding a broom in right good earnest, Ben 
 says 
 
 " I had you for a servant once, Dick Brome, 
 And you perform'd a servant's faithful parts ; 
 Now you are got into a nearer room, 
 Of fellowship," etc. etc. 
 
 And the brave old boy backed his' servant to the last ! 
 
 Watts. 
 
 At this season of distress, when the end was not 
 far away, reappears Ms old master pictorial in art, 
 the veteran George Cruikshank, whose friendly 
 visits must have comforted him. 
 
 Dear Friend and Pupil [wrote the veteran on December 
 3rd, 1872], — It so happens that I am engaged every evening 
 this week, and so return the tickets — ^but. shall be glad to 
 
14*' WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 have one for next week, and will arrange for the day, or 
 rather the evening. 
 
 I have been wanting to see ybti for a long time, and 
 made two attempts to discover " Kedcliffe Road," but was 
 lost in the wilderness of the Bromptons ; so, presuming that 
 the lessons I gave you in the " art of drawing " will enable 
 you to sketch out a map of that part of the globe, I shall 
 be obliged if you will favour me with such a sketch, and I 
 will announce, with a flourish of the pen, when I propose to 
 give you a call, so that you may be prepared to meet your 
 old Friend and Master. — Yours truly, George Cruikshank. 
 
 December lUh, 1872. 
 
 Dear Watts Phillips, — The weather has been very 
 severe in these northern parts, quite " Ice-bound," and then 
 such a thaw — that I was afraid of being " Water-logged," 
 but as there now seems to be a favourable change, I am 
 preparing for my journey to the south-west, and hope to 
 arrive at the " Red Cliffs " on next Monday afternoon, about 
 5 o'clock P.M.* — and trust to find you all — all well. There 
 are two routes I find to your part of the world ; one " over- 
 land," and the other " under-lund," and I shall travel by 
 the latter to the place you name — and then, with your ex- 
 cellent map in hand, plunge into the wilderness, feeling 
 sure that I shall be sure to find " Wigwam " forty-five.- 
 
 My wife and I went to see " Amos Clarke," and were 
 delighted to make his acquaintance ; more of this anon. 
 But now one word further — if Monday is not convenient to 
 you, telegraph by cable, or any other way you're able, to 
 yours truly, George Cruikshank. 
 
 * Being a " T.T.," I name this hour as it is about my T.-time. 
 
DE8P0NDMNCY. 145 
 
 Later the old artist wrote— 
 
 And now I must tell you that ever since I saw that 
 play of " Lost in London " I have been " going to write " and 
 " going to call " to tell you that, although I must confess 
 that I did like to see the play, I did not like the audience 
 to see me a-crying like a baby — however, more of this 
 anon. All I shall add now is, that of course you will take 
 it for granted that I thank you for the letter to Grant. 
 And as I intend to return to town on Wednesday, 6th, you 
 will, if you please, expect me to name an early evening, at 
 an early hour, on an early day, to receive the muffins, 
 crumpets, etc. etc. etc." 
 
 A sort of weary despondency will be noticed in 
 the last few letters of our dramatist. 
 
 February 28th, 1873. 
 
 I have been very ill and in great pain, weak and nervous 
 to that degree that the slamming of a door, or partially 
 raised voice, produced both bodily and mental suffering. 
 I do not sleep at nights; however, " it is an ill wind," etc., for 
 I prop myself up in bed and write, dap through the night, 
 " copy," wild and weird, restless as hfe and sad as death. 
 Night writing is death ; but what a deUcious time it is ! 
 The whole discord of the day shut out. The horrible row 
 of living forgotten in the exquisite quiet, unbroken but by 
 the step of a passing policeman, or the squeak of a mouse 
 (we have mice by the hundred here). 
 
 Night, midnight, to me a realisation of ah that is tran- 
 quil and happy, and I am sorry when my sohtary vigil is 
 broken by the screech of the milkman. 
 
 I am miich, oh ! so much better to-day, and fancy thai 
 
146 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 I may for a period have a good time of it ; but who can 
 answer for to-morrow ? A fit of passion, and a man. topples 
 over with heart-disease. A week of bad weather, and down 
 goes the nervous man trembling with pain, or standing 
 wrestling with his agony, like Laocoon with his snakes. 
 
 Dr. Richardson called upon me the other day with 
 George [Cru^kshank]. In the absence of Dr. Ord he would 
 not even feel my pulse. " I know Ord," he said, " a very 
 clever man ; " and so, while he shook the hand, refused to 
 touch- the wrist. He had, I imagine, a pleasant visit, 
 though I forced myself into form ; and, if there was not 
 much wit, there was much laughter. Webster will gain 
 more than £2,000 by his benefit. I'm on the committee, 
 but never once been near. 
 
 So they've run the Claimant in at last ; fourteen years 
 are pretty stiff, but after the lucid summing up none can 
 doubt that he is Arthur Orton. So I shall have much 
 'gossip when' we meet. Sala was here last night, having 
 seen the last of him — a most vivid description. The 
 brougham waiting for " orders " at one door of Westminster 
 Hall and "Black Maria" swallowing him up at another! 
 The Radcliffe business swamped him. Tichborne or Orton, 
 the gorge of the nation rose against him. 
 
 45, Redcliffe Road, 
 March 10th. 
 
 What do you think of Sir Roger Arthur Orton Castro 
 
 now? I am so glad I have seen and closely studied the 
 
 ■ man ; so. closely that I can- imitate to an accent and a 
 
 gesture. What a huge fraud! The great nineteenth 
 
 century "phenomenon. 
 
TIGHBOBNE. 147 
 
 It is now five o'clock, Wednesday morning, and I am 
 writing this in bed, unable to sleep. Mrs. Sala says Fleet 
 Street is crowded, the issue of the Daily Telegraph being 
 too slow for the enormous demand. 
 
 I hope we've heard nearly the last of the great Tich- 
 bome case, and that when " they've run in" Luie, the cook, 
 shopman, and the " sly grog-shop keeper " we shaU talk of 
 something else. I was invited to a swell dinner, where 
 upon every plate was a card, " Le Tichborne est defendu," 
 which reminds me with a shudder that I haven't slept a 
 wink; but I have to go down to see Ord — he must be sick 
 of me ; I am of myself — and have to go out to dinner 
 to-night at eight ! ! ! I camiot put it off ; it's to meet Mr. 
 Milbank, Osborn, etc. I have broken so many appoint- 
 ments that, if alive, I must go. 
 
 Would you like to see "Ought We to Visit Her"? 
 Labouchere tells me it is a success ; I enclose card, fill in 
 date. George Crookedlegs (as such was his announcement 
 to the servant) called a hittle time ago. What a wonderful 
 old chap he is ! He sits drinking tea, and eatiag muffins, 
 and joking by the hour. R gave him "Dora," and he 
 made a pretty speech, ending with, "You have made the 
 old man, who has made so many laugh, cry, my dear." 
 Good-bye, for it is now daylight, and my lamp looks as 
 sickly as I do ! — Yours, Watts. 
 
 I am glad to hear that " our cousin " (Mr. " John " 
 Jellicoe) is making such rapid advance with his pencil. I 
 knew he would. He is a clever young fellow. 
 
 In these troubled, closing days of his life he was 
 much cheered and his sufferings alleviated by the 
 J 2 
 
148 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 kindly solicitude of his friend and medical adviser, 
 Dr. Ord. In the letters which he addressed to this 
 gentleman are found touching expressions of gratitude 
 for many services rendered, lightened by his usual 
 vein of pleasantry. These letters, too, are enriched 
 by pen-and-ink sketches of extraordinary merit 
 and finish, full of fancy and lively humour. This 
 finish and delicacy, which must have been the 
 result of many hours' exertion, were expended for 
 the entertainment of his friend, and meant, no 
 doubt, as some feeble return for kindness which he 
 could not otherwise acknowledge. 
 
 To Dr., Ord's Bull-dog " Tartar." * 
 
 (With a print.) 
 
 My Dear Tartar ! 
 
 My cream of all the Tartars, and chief of all the 
 Tartar 'Ords! 
 
 I am going to make you a little present. Our inter- 
 views have hitherto been but short ones, but I know you 
 love me from the way you always investigate the calf of 
 my leg to see if there is not yet some little meat there and 
 how the bone is getting on. 
 
 With this letter you will receive your portrait, framed 
 and. glazed ! You'll not be offended if I say you have ian 
 ugly mug, Tartar; but there are uglier mugs still manu- 
 
 *This letter was accompanied by a fine etching, by Lipic, 
 after Jadin. It was the portrait of a bull-dog, " Jupiter." 
 
LETTERS TO DB. OBD. 149 
 
 factured in the Potteries, and many uglier dogs (though 
 they, don't think it) in the photographers' windows. 
 Besides, with you, like with Mirabeau, another ugly dog, 
 your ugliness covers a great souL 
 
 Take my picture, Tartar, and show it to your good 
 master and missis ; they wUl appreciate it, for it is a fine 
 etching — now rare — and full of power. Give my love to 
 your young master and your young misses, and wish them 
 a merry Christmas and the happiest of happy New Years ! 
 
 Good-bye, old fellow! I was a jolly dog. once, though 
 somewhat of a sM one now ; and if evet you see a stranger, 
 with a particularly long mug, wandering Streatham way, 
 look on his collar for the name of 
 
 Watts Phillips. 
 December 22nd, 1873. ' , 
 
 To Dr. Ord. 
 
 July IQth, 1873. 
 
 Glad to hear you are so jolly — hving in such a style 
 (stile)-ish manner, and picking up those inconsiderable 
 trifles which, passing through the alembic of your brain, 
 become more than sterling gold. I think I see you in my 
 " mind's eye, , Horatio," striding along on those " splen- 
 dacious " legs — Antinous, Apollo, Hercules, and jEsculapius 
 rolled into one. 
 
 I thought of writiQg something about London, hntr — 
 why poison your fresh a,nd, innocent mind ; and blacken the 
 sunshine you are revelling in with smoky jest and foggy 
 stories froin this great city ? 
 
 As regards myself, I am much better. I enclose my 
 bill of fare — I mean my bill of health — that you may judge 
 of the progress I have made. 
 
150 WATTS FEILLIPS. 
 
 I hope you are bringing back lots of " wise simples " — 
 Sundew sounds nice. Do you think it would suit me with 
 ice and sugar — a solution of Bog- weed taken alternately as 
 a tonic ? 
 
 Good-bye ; if brevity is really the soul of tuit, I con- 
 gratulate you on this letter. 
 
 With kind regards, 
 
 Yours always sincerely, 
 
 Watts Phillips. 
 
 To THE Same. 
 
 How do you like Swanage ? I hear there is a very 
 pleasant cove named Punfold in the neighbourhood ; when 
 you see him greet him for me. You wUl also come across 
 some nice fellows, friends of his, Firestone, Gault, Green- 
 sand, and Wealden. These were their names when I knew 
 them, but, as their means have grown strata and strata, 
 it is possible they may have changed them. 
 
 Can't I see you at breakfast, revelling over the broiled 
 bone of an Iguanodon. I am informed that a crocodile 
 was found (1837) at Swanage — of course, in a fossil state ; 
 the pretty creature had wept itself to death, and, after 
 writing its will on a slab of calcareous slate, had died 
 upon a bed of " fawn-coloured " limestone with a sweet 
 smile on its mouth. 
 
 After aU, there must have been great larks in those 
 pre- Adamite ages, and it must have been an improving 
 and touching sight to see the infant Saurians going to 
 school, with their little calcareous slates under their arms. 
 
 No more space ! or I had a lot more to say, as I think 
 I never write so well as upon subjects of which I am 
 
" THE BEST BBAWEB THAT EVEE BBAWED." 151 
 
 profoundly ignorant Of one thing, however, I am pro- 
 foundly sensible, that I am always yours most sincerely, 
 
 Watts Phillips. 
 
 To Dr. Ord's Daughter Christine. 
 My dear Christine, 
 
 I send this letter to you by a very old friend of 
 mine, a giant, but such a good fellow that, though he loves 
 you so much that he could almost eat you up, he would 
 not hurt a hair of your pretty head— no, not for a hundred- 
 weight of toffee or a ton of barley sugar. I knew him 
 when .1 was a httle boy, such a Uttle boy that I always 
 went in and out the keyhole without opening the dodrl 
 If you can go through the keyhole, it is so much better, 
 you ■ know, because you never leave- the door open, ' and 
 dear papa and mama wiU never catch cold. The only 
 danger is that you might catch the lock-jaw, aid that 
 would be a pity. I was looking over my library the other 
 day, and found another book, the same I gave your big 
 
 sisters, and I thoiight. Why should not have a set 
 
 of giants and fairies all to herself — to look ' over them 
 in her own pretty way, and to talk to them in her own 
 sweet fashion? So, darling, I send you the book. Excuse 
 my very short letter, but I am " greengaged " to a friend, 
 and in a great hurry — but believe me, your affectionate 
 friend and admirer. Watts Phillips.* 
 
 * Addressed (writes Dr. Ord) to one of my daughters, then a 
 very little girl. The book was "Grimm's Fairy Tales," illus- , 
 trated by G. Cruikshank. The child told her mother tO write 
 and say that "the man who drawed those pictures WaS the bfest 
 drawer that ever drawed." The letter arrived while Chiikshattk 
 
152 WATTS PEILLIPB. 
 
 To Dr. Ord. 
 
 My dear Doctor, 
 
 The " -winter of my discontent " has set in ! The 
 cabmen demand half the sum that would ransom the 
 French to take me a dozen yards ! The " busses " refuse 
 to take me at all. "Where am I living ? ? ? In Siberia ? 
 At Spitzbergen? We are snowed in! All of us are 
 " bewhaling " our fate, and the knife-boy has taken to 
 blubber. We have no coals in our cellar, but plenty of 
 colds in our heads. Ugh ! no more North- West Passages 
 for me ! No more writing up the Naval Phrenologists 
 who are so anxious to finger the bumps of the Pole ! 
 My household wealth, however, has somewhat increased, 
 for I have three scrapers at my door. For my own part, 
 T am not at all well ; with a spine like an icicle (my 
 North Pole), and a brain like an iceberg, but a heart like 
 Nebuchadnezzar's furnace, yours " warmly," 
 
 W^ATTS Phillips. 
 
 To THE Same. 
 My dear Doctor, 
 
 As Professor Max Miiller would say, I take it for 
 granted you have returned to town. I have been called 
 away to Birmingham, etc., to arrange about " Amos Clark," 
 which Mr. Rignold is taking about the country. Each 
 time I have taken up a pen to write to you, I have thrown 
 
 was breakfasting with Watts Phillips, and gave the old artist 
 great pleasure. Phillips told me that he got up from table and 
 danced round the room, saying that it was one of the finest com- 
 pliments he had ever received. 
 
A FINAL TBIUMP'H. 153 
 
 it down, feeling the impossibility of my writing the letter 
 I wished to write. It wanted to be brilliant, but the 
 spirit of Dogberry was upon me, and I wrote myself . . 
 .you can fill m. the rest. You know the definition of a 
 pen, "a feather plucked from the pinion of a goose to 
 write down the opinion of another." I dared not inflict 
 my tediousness, my bitter complaints, my eternal melan- 
 choly. "Sir," says one of "Ben" Jonson's characters, ad- 
 dressing in the polite fashion of that time a casual friend, 
 " you are out of sorts ; you have your brains m your belly 
 and your guts in your head." This is still my position, 
 and I am under bond to write a new piece, to do more rash 
 acts for the managers, and sit on the points of my own 
 jokes ! I hope you've been jolly ; in fact, I know you have 
 been so, for you essentially possess " the harvest of a quiet 
 eye that broods in sleep on his own heart." I have 
 thought of you a hundred times, taking Nature by the 
 hand and forcing from her the secrets (no difficult thing 
 with a woman) she possesses. I am still very queer, one 
 day well, one day ill. 
 
 Ere the close of his successful but weary 
 life arrived, Watts Phillips was to enjoy one 
 last gratifying theatrical triumph. — the revival of 
 his "Lost in London." He came from his sick- 
 room to the theatre on the first night. " The 
 piece was an immense success," he wrote, "the 
 house crammed to suffocation, people standing on 
 benches, and hundreds turned from the doors." He 
 was ruffled, however, by a disagreeable incident. 
 
154 WATTS FEILLIPS. 
 
 " Emery has made Ms mark, and -written me a 
 noble letter. Borrow the Times. I had a row 
 with Chatterton ; I wouldn't come on after 2nd Act 
 .without Miss Foote, and 1 repudiated then as only 
 being a revival after all; but I showed my pale 
 mug — alas ! alas ! as you know — at the end. Oh ! 
 if I had hut health ! Poor Mrs. F. saw nothing, and 
 all that was seen of her was her nose — the cram was 
 awful. I am very glad you did not hear the lan- 
 guage that passed between Chatterton and Old 
 Watts. It nearly smashed Ord, Oxenford, etc. 
 etc. Good strong ta,lk. I'd have brought on little 
 Lydia Foote, but ' I can't and won't come on twice, 
 and I'll go on at the end of the piece ; or go on 
 yourself, and call yourself the author, I donH care.' 
 But it was all right at the successful end, and I did 
 not get away from ' behind ' till past two." 
 
 ^^Oh! if I had but health!" That was the last 
 despairing aspiration of the toiling dramatist. But 
 it may be doubted if this alone would have secured 
 the success he wished for. For it did seem that 
 with these ceaseless drafts upon his powers, he had, 
 as it is called, outwritten himself. 
 
 Not three months after the above letter, on the 
 3rd December, 1874, Watts Phillips' long illness 
 terminated, and terminated fatally. 
 
THTB END. . 155 
 
 He is buried in Brompton Cemetery. The 
 friends among the many present who paid their last 
 tribute to the dead were the veteran George Cruik- 
 shank, Alfred Phillips (his brother), Benjamin 
 Webster, George Augustus Sala, Mr. Milbank, My. 
 Chatterton, Mr. Samuel Emery, Mr. Churchill, Mr. 
 George Belmore, Dr. Daniel, Mr. W. Sawyer, Mr. 
 J. V, Howard, and Mr. Moy Thomas. A few 
 ladies of the stage were also present, including 
 Miss Georgina Hodson,' Miss Genevieve Ward, and 
 Mrs. Alfred Mellon. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 The majority of the following letters having been 
 written in the early part of .Watts Phillips' life, and 
 referring but very slightly to his artistic or literary 
 career, it was. decided to place them as an appendix, 
 in order that the thread of the narrative, which 
 leads the reader step by step — it might be said 
 letter by letter — through the preceding pages, should 
 not be broken. 
 
 The chief of the correspondence, descriptive of 
 Paris and the journey thither, was written about 
 the years 1845 to 1848, during which period, with 
 brief intervals, the writer resided as an art student 
 in that capital. 
 
 While taking lessons in oil-painting Mr. Phillips 
 had as a fellow-student for a tilne the now great 
 master of the Pre-Raphaelite school, Holman Hunt, 
 to whom he refers in the first letter. 
 
 My deak Annie,, 
 
 I am too busy to write more tlian to ask you to 
 ■write. Holman Hunt is waiting for me to go down to his 
 
158 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 place at Chelsea to meet some friends, and I have a block 
 to finish first. 
 
 I enclose a few of the least warm criticisms upon Hunt 
 and Millais. It is now generally allowed that they are 
 among the very greatest painters England has ever produced. 
 Millais touches my heart more than any artist I have 
 ever looked upon, and Hunt performs perfect miracles with 
 his brush, literally painting sunlight. 
 
 What a glorious thing for these two young men to have 
 defied the Eoyal Academy-^compelled them, by the power 
 of their genius, to give their pictures room ; and by the 
 same power excelled every picture placed by their side. 
 Compared with these two Pre-Kaphaelite brethren the R.A.'s 
 . have a most sorry R. A. (array) to offer. 
 
 Expecting news, Yours, 
 
 Watts. 
 II. 
 To HIS Mother. 
 
 Generally speaking, the first thing that strikes you on 
 entering France is the butt-ehd of a gendarme's musket in 
 the pit of your stomach, as you make a dart from the boat, 
 without pausing to dehver your passport — a pleasant re- 
 fresher to your memory. 
 
 I was an eye-witness to a most painful scene of man- 
 catching. A little man, of the most prim and sedate appear- 
 ance, a walking embodiment of " Chesterfield's Letters," 
 stepped briskly from the packet; a dozen yards, and the 
 jackals were upon him. Shade of Hogarth ! to have seen 
 that man's face ! What, him ! Touch him ! Could a look 
 have annihilated, there would have been an end of the 
 matter. As it was, he struggled manfuUy, and at last, by an 
 unexpected display of vigour, burst from their grasp. Alas ! 
 to exchange a Charybdis for a ScyUa ; or, in. other words, he 
 jumped from the frying-pan into the fire, for, panting with 
 
APPENDIX. 159 
 
 rage, he rushed headlong into the arms of a thick-bearded; 
 brawny vagabond advancing up the quay, who, shouting 
 out the name of his hotel, without more ado tucked the 
 little gentleman under his arm and bore him oif in 
 triumph. 
 
 The last I saw of my persecuted friend were the soles of 
 his boots, like Mahomet's coiSn hanging midway between 
 heaven and earth, as he vanished round the corner. For 
 my own part, I surrendered my arms — that is, my luggage 
 — ^without useless resistance, and was conducted quietly to 
 my quarters, the Hotel de Eicheheu. 
 
 III. 
 
 To HIS SiSTEE. 
 
 Rauen. 
 Rouen is full of the remnants of an age gone by 
 houses in the last stage of dissblution,- unpaved, sombre- 
 looking streets, and darkling Gothic churches, while the 
 new stuccoed Parisianrlooking buildings that are every- 
 where springing into existence appear by contrast Hke 
 glaring coloured patches on a beggar's garment. The 
 churches are its gems, the cathedral in particular — that 
 mountain of carved stone, emblem of that once massive 
 religion, now passing, if not in' reality passed, away. There 
 is something about these Gothic churches, these monu- 
 ments of men's skiQand patience, that produces a feeling of 
 pleasing melancholy ; you may run up the lofty flight 6f 
 steps laughing and talking .gaily ; in the same mood you 
 may traverse the dark passage and push open the small, 
 portal at the end ; but then comes a check — you are in the 
 presence of the grandeur of a past age. You see around' 
 you " a petriiied religion," as the poet has called it. Your 
 very footfall seems an intrusion ; stone figures, frowning 
 sternly or smiling meekly from their niches, rebuke you 
 
160 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 into silence. The old women (always old women) kneel- 
 ing before the various shrines, with low humming chant 
 telling their beads, or stealing with noiseless step along the 
 dim cloisters, are strangely in character with the scene 
 around — they look so ancient, coeval, as it were, with the 
 cathedral. 
 
 Here and there candles glimmering before the figure of 
 the Virgin — the pictures, and, last of all, the organ music, 
 that sublimest of harmonies, richest of melodies, and the 
 effect is complete. 
 
 I quite agree with the great American when he says, 
 " I like the silent church before the service begins better 
 than any sermon." This sublime edifice would elevate the 
 spirit more than Ustening to the humming of some drowsy 
 pulpit drone, half God's good Sabbath, while the worn-out 
 clerk browbeats his desk below. 
 
 For my part I want no Bible text expounded. If the 
 preacher would touch my heart, the words must flow freely 
 from his own. Let him speak of God, not of miracles of an 
 age defunct. Why, the very fact of my standing here alive 
 is a greater miracle than he can read me ; as are the re- 
 freshing rains that beat against the window or hang in 
 ghstening pearl-drops from the trees ; the healthful breeze 
 that shakes them on to the thirsting grass beneath, and 
 the feathered songsters that carol forth His praise. 
 
 Nature is God's book, whose language goes to all men's 
 hearts. We live in an age of facts, not fiction, and need no 
 historical legends to fashion our religion. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The Same. 
 
 Paris. 
 
 You must see Paris. Beautiful, gay Paris, which not to 
 know argues yourself unknown. In my part I'm like that 
 
APPENDIX. 161 
 
 greybound whicli somebody so toucbingly mentions, tbat, 
 in tbe pleasures of tbe cbase, ran itself down to a terrier. 
 IVe almost worked myself to deatb ; I intend to see every- 
 thing. This morning swaggering along tbe Boulevards; 
 tbis nigbt dancing (a dance peculiarly my own, and wbicb 
 bas excited some envy in Paris) my legs off witb mad 
 students and pale, over-worked grisettes, little sickly 
 flowers wbo take an hour's pleasure out of the nigbt to 
 drown tbe feeling of tbe day's privations and tbe 
 coming morrow's misery, as an Englishwoman takes 
 spirits; dances and other amusements being prohibited, 
 especially on a Sunday, by a Christian and humane 
 Legislature. 
 
 You have no doubt heard of tbe great Columbus, when 
 tbe vision of his Hfe was realised, and the forest-clad shores 
 of tbe New World rose, a pleasing barrier to his ocean 
 progress ? or of Balboa, when, speechless with a proud 
 emotion, he stood on the borders of the, until then, 
 unknown Pacific, the first man of the Old World who had 
 gazed upon its wilderness of waters ? or — as I am in the 
 humour for similes — of Cortes, when. Eke an eagle from tbe 
 mountain summit, be looked downward upon his regal 
 quarry^ the golden, gorgeous Mexico, that lay, a glittering 
 paradise, at his feet ? 
 
 Their joy was great, I do not doubt, but nothing — I can 
 assure you, nothing to what I felt when, standing the other 
 day in — bUssful locality-^the Place V6nd6me, the words — 
 they should have been written in gold — London Porter, 
 met my delighted vision. 
 
 How long I stood, like a second Belshazzar, intent upon 
 tbe writing on the wall, I know not. A rough " Prenez 
 garde ! " first awakened me to passing events, and I found 
 myself seated on tbe kerbstone, while a grinning carrier 
 strode onward with bis burthen. 
 
 Another time I should have cursed, but now I smiled 
 
 K 
 
162 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 upon the man, and, rising gracefully, crossed the road and 
 — entered the shop. 
 
 As Walter Scott observes, " More it needs not here to 
 teU." Oh ! Shakespeare and Milton, Barclay and Perkins, 
 Bacon and Newton, Truman and Hanbury, yours are indeed 
 immortal names ! But my feehngs are carrying me away. 
 
 This wandering life suits me too weU. There must be 
 gypsy blood in my veins, I am sure. Were I left to my 
 own inchnation, with a light heart I should trudge south- 
 ward to " the land where citron-apples bloom, and oranges, 
 like gold in leafy gloom," gladden the soil, and where I 
 could live — 
 
 " With God's own profound 
 
 High above me, and round me the mountains, 
 And under, the sea, 
 
 And with one, my heart to bear witness 
 What was, and shall be.'" 
 
 Never more returning back to — 
 
 " A land where merit starves — obscure, 
 And Wisdom says, " be anything but — poor." 
 
 Yours, 
 
 Watts. 
 
 V 
 
 The Same. 
 
 Paris. 
 
 Thanks for last letter. The winter here is of the 
 severest kind. The Seine is frozen over, and the air full of 
 fine frost-powder, that pierces the skin like needles. 
 Commodore Frost is advancing in good earnest, and it 
 behoves everyone in self-defence to foUow bluff old Colling- 
 wood's advice, and baffle the enemy by keeping up a brisk 
 fire. 
 
 Strange to relate, I believe the Morgue to be at present 
 without a tenant, the cold is so severe. One man was seen 
 
APPENDIX. 163 
 
 last evening endeavouring to make his way through the 
 ice with a pickaxe ; but after working for nearly an hour, 
 he marched off in a passion, saying "a man might as well 
 live and be miserable, as die so d hard as aU that." 
 
 Of the Morgue, in a previous letter, Mr. Phillips 
 writes: — 
 
 I have just returned from the Morgue, the place where 
 the bodies of those found drowned are exposed for three 
 days, to find a claimant for the empty casket. It is a 
 gloomy square building, a portion of which, separated from 
 the remainder by an iron railing, is lighted from above. 
 Behind this railing the bodies are exposed on inclined 
 benches, a small stream of water flowing over them from a 
 tap at the head of each; their clothes hang against the 
 wall The whole has the smell of a vault. 
 
 This horrible place is seldom without its tenant. Last 
 month it boasted of seven at one time. Two now were 
 stretched out upon the bench; one, a middle-sized, robust 
 man, whose broad, expansive chest and muscular develop- 
 ment gave promise of a long life, the suspicion being that 
 his death was from other hands than his own. 
 
 The other body was a suicide ; its story might be read 
 at a glance: a common case — man's perfidy, woman's 
 shame. There she lay, a model, or rather an emanation 
 from, the sculptor ; so marble white her limbs, the long 
 dark hair streaming dankly around the rigid face, which, 
 despite the unnatural lock of the jaw and bruised forehead, 
 was stamped with that curse when conjoined with poverty 
 — ^that bitter curse of beauty. 
 
 A woman informed me of her history. As I said, it was 
 an old one — old as modem civilisation. Her father had 
 been sent for, and was expected to see his daughter, the 
 first time for ten years (he had turned her from his door 
 then), in this place. 
 k2 
 
164 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 Leaning against the railing, sick at heart, standing as I 
 was before a palpable embodiment of Hood's touching lyric, 
 I figured her pale face turned from the pitiless city, and bent 
 over the dark waters of the Seine, that courted (and water, 
 especially by night, has that strange fascination) the fatal 
 plunge ; then — the hesitation, but for a moment, ere the 
 despairing leap was taken to " Anywhere, anywhere out of 
 the world " ; when I was startled by the noisy conversation 
 of a party behind me, who were — pitying ? — ^no, indulging in 
 ribald jokes upon that poor sleeping girl. I could have spat 
 in the fellows' faces (their pardon — ^gentlemen's — for their 
 coats were of the best cloth and newest cut), who could find 
 no fitter place for their brutahty. Chilled to the marrow, I 
 left the place ; and, should I stop another year in Paris, this 
 will be the first and last time that, of my own accord, I 
 visit the Morgue. 
 
 Ever yours. 
 
 Watts. 
 
 VI. 
 
 My dear Father, 
 
 I have but time to write a few hnes. Paris, as I suppose 
 you are by now aware, is in a state of revolution. Skir- 
 mishes long and bloody have taken place ; every street is 
 barricaded, and while I write the whole body of the people. 
 National Guards and aU, are upon the march to the Tuileries. 
 I could not get out of Paris if I wished, the railways having 
 stopped, and all the barriers being in possession of the 
 people ; however, I run but sHght danger. 
 
 Imagine a night here : the tocsin sounding, the people 
 shouting, the rolling of the drums,, and, above aU, the roar 
 of the artillery. The hospitals are fuU of wounded, and by 
 this time the dead may be counted by hundreds. 
 
 Rouen has marched down, likewise the people of Lyons. 
 We shall have desperate work if concessions of rights, long 
 
APPENDIX. 165 
 
 promised, long deferred, are not made to an indignant 
 people. If it be possible, can you forward me any money ? 
 I do not know whether the post will run. Can you send 
 me thirty pounds ? The. bakers' shops (as every other) 
 are closed, and it is a favour to get provisions. Prices 
 have, of course, gone up incredibly. This cannot last long. 
 Two or three days must settle it, without the troops stUl 
 hold out. 
 
 Three o'clock. 
 The king has abdicated. A National Assembly is de- 
 clared. Glorious things are expected. Liberty has dawned 
 on France. Hurrah ! More anon. Of course agitation 
 still continues, etc. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The Same. 
 
 Boulogne-sur-Mer. 
 
 Lord Normanby (British Ambassador) having advised 
 me to leave Paris, I arrived here this morning, and have 
 taken up my habitation in my old quarters. The town is 
 full of English who have left Paris, and are en route for 
 England, some being in such haste as to have left by 
 fishing-boats ; aU of which fear is very much exaggerated ; 
 the only real danger being in Paris, where indeed it exists 
 to strangers in no small degree, and will continue to do so 
 until the fierce mob, the very refuse of the galleys and 
 scum of the capital, is disarmed and sent to the frontiers. 
 . They have already completely sacked the Tuileries, and 
 burnt a portion of the Palais KoyaL 
 
 Many chateaux on the outskirts have been plundered 
 and their grotmds devastated. The royal residence of 
 Neuilly has been , burnt ; numbers who had found their 
 way to the cellars perishing at the same time. They have 
 threatened to destroy the principal residences in Paris ; but 
 the National Guard are under arms night and day, while 
 
166 WATTS. PHILLIPS. 
 
 the soldiers of the line are getting back their arms, so we 
 may soon hope to see quiet and safety once more restored. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 His Sister. 
 
 Paris. 
 
 Back once again in Paris. I wish you could come over, 
 as anything in the shape of description must fall short of 
 the original. In old Paris I revel — what with the Luxem- 
 bourg at the other side of the great city, the Jardin des 
 Plantes — the most splendid botanical collection in the 
 world — the Louvre and Versailles, to which all Paris is but a 
 gew-gaw, to whose majestic splendour no pen can do 
 justice. And what more can tourists look for ? Unless it 
 be Pere-la-Chaise, the cemetery, which acts as a sedative to 
 a fever of enjoyment — the City of Hope, as this place has 
 been called. 
 
 " All earth is but an hour-glass, and the sands 
 That tremble through, are men 1 " 
 
 When wandering, as I like to do, through this romantic 
 yet tomb-like garden, reading the many inscriptions — so 
 varied in their expression, yet all embodying the same 
 thing — Hope — the lines of the great German poet seem 
 strikingly apt — 
 
 " When we sink in the grave, why the grave has scope, 
 And over the coffin man planted — hope. 
 And it is not a dream of a fancy proud, 
 
 With a fool for its dull begetter ; 
 There's a voice at the heart proclaims aloud, v 
 
 " We're born for a something better ! " 
 And that voice of the heart, oh ! ye may believe 
 Will never the hope of the soul deceive." 
 
 The women of Paris are, after all, the most attractive 
 part of it. They might be studied with some advantage by 
 
APPENDIX. 167 
 
 their sisters in England. There is no woman in the world 
 who can invest the driest of topics, or most trivial of sub- 
 jects, with such interest and charm as she does by the grace, 
 vivacity of her delivery. And then her dress — no matter 
 whether costly silk or humble cotton, it is fashioned with a 
 tasteful elegance rarely seen elsewhere ; the jaunty cap, the 
 set of the shawl, the very cock of the bonnet — if 1 may use 
 such a Gothic expression — sets rivalry at defiance. It's an 
 art scarcely to be obtained, and when obtained cannot be 
 valued too highly. 
 
 Besides, what woman understands the " poetry of 
 motion " like a French lady or French grisette ? It's bom 
 with them. An English child may be said. " to go alone," 
 to toddle ; an English woman to march, to .progress, to 
 step out ; but the French woman wallcs. 
 
 Now, in personal beauty our countrywomen bear away 
 the pahn, but it is, nine cases out of ten, beauty without ex- 
 pression. This is the reason why plain girls in England 
 are always the most interesting, amiable, and agreeable. 
 They place their dependence upon the solid qualities of 
 pleasing, and are composed of " such stuff as good wives are 
 made of," while their handsome rivals find too late that 
 men soon tire of a show of lifeless waxwork. 
 
 I have met with many a girl, quite destitute of personal 
 beauty of countenance, who, during the evening, has so 
 redeemed the want by her lively manner and vivacious 
 conversation that her chair has been the centre of attrac- 
 tion, while many a fair-dheeked doll has sat silent in a 
 comer. 
 
 IX. 
 
 His Father. 
 
 Paris. 
 
 Now for a bit of the world I live in. France is at pre- 
 sent in that turbulent state that you quiet inhabitants of 
 
168 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 the United Queendoms can scarcely form a conception. 
 Every man in the shape of anythiag like self-esteem is 
 putting up as President for this unfortunate Eepublic, for 
 which onerous office most of the candidates are about as 
 fitted as George I. was to become King of England, and 
 his chief qualification was, I believe, that he could speak 
 no English.. The election of Louis Napoleon is certain. 
 
 The Rouge Republicans are busy here plotting and 
 scheming. According to their doctrines, the only true 
 method for a liberation is that France, like the IsraeHtes 
 of old, should first pass through a Red Sea. 
 
 They overlook the many bright names in the stormy 
 history of France's past, to grasp at those of Robespierre, 
 St. Just, Marat, and Danton, those mighty monsters, be- 
 gotten, like those of the Nile, from corruption. They neg- 
 lect or scoff at the milder and better lights, chaining 
 themselves to no creed, no belief but that propounded by 
 these " men without a God," 
 
 At the present moment it is only the strictest vigilance — 
 the soldiers in the barrack and public buildings — the hov/rly 
 patrol — that keep Paris from revolt. 
 
 Poor Paris ! Like the fable of the PeHcan, it seems her 
 fate to feed her munerous progeny with her blood. Each 
 and aU. are politicians now — restless poverty has found a 
 voice, and plots in secret. Every quack has his antidote 
 for social evils, knowing as much what are and ought to 
 be constitutions and liberties as the elder WeUer when 
 he speaks about " that gallant old Carter who stood up for 
 our liberties, and won 'em too." 
 
 I came home last evening over the Pont Neuf, and 
 stopped for some minutes to look at the crowd of buildings 
 (the Cit6) which formed the gloomy masses that stretched 
 along the river's banks — the faint and flickering lights that 
 shone on the dark waters — the tall towers of the various 
 edifices, all so quiet and yet so grand in their indistinct- 
 
APPENDIX. . ]69 
 
 ness — when I was roughly disturbed in my meditations by 
 crowds of fellows marching (from some banquet, I imagine) 
 over the bridge, and roaring the revolutionary songs. No 
 sooner were they passed than a body of the Garde Mobile 
 succeeded, their bayonets ghstening in the moonlight. 
 
 The Qa ira still ringing in my ears, I walked on, musing 
 upon the scene, which might have been an extract from the 
 great drama of the First Repubhc ; and when I looked up 
 — standing in the old Place de la Revolution — I almost 
 expected to see the tall, gaunt form of the guillotine, show- 
 ing black against the sky, and blasting, hke the upas, with 
 its hideous aspect the passers by. 
 
 I am glad to find the infornaation concerning the death 
 of Macready was unfounded, though by all accounts he still 
 remains a stiff-'un. (Oh — oh — run for the police !) 
 
 Is it true that " The Bohemian Girl " has again become 
 popular? How I detest Balfe, whose jingles are only 
 worthy to be allied with the effusions of the poet Bunn. 
 He can only be popular with the uncultivated millions. To 
 those who recognise music as the " poetry of sound," such 
 a man must be an abhorrence. Popularity is no proof of 
 merit ; but alas ! for taste in England, when the composi- 
 tions of such men as Mozart, Weber, Beethoven — ^great 
 Beethoven, wildest, grandest, most poetical of composers — 
 Meyerbeer, and a host of others, immortal men who cannot 
 die, are superseded by the twitterings of " The Bohemian 
 Girl " and others of her class. 
 
 We talk of the march of intellect ! What would our 
 forefathers have said, to know their old madrigals, songs, 
 and lyrics — those bits of melodies of which the words 
 themselves are music — are shelved, giving place to the 
 rhapsodies of a Fitzball and the tunes of hurdy-gurdy 
 Balfe? 
 
 I must stop here. Don't be alarmed at any rumour you 
 hear in England, where a " bombast " becomes a war, and a 
 
170 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 Street row a revolution. Thougli there may be great fear, 
 there is but little danger. 
 
 X. 
 
 To Mr. F. Jones. 
 
 Jeudi. 
 
 The letter of M. le Barren Jones has but this moment 
 arrived (10 o'clock). His Excellency and Serene Holiness 
 Cardinal Phillips has in half an hour from the present time 
 to take part in a funeral ceremony: attending at the 
 church, and afterwards to the cemetery, one of his friends 
 in Paris. 
 
 Nothing dispels a blade cloud so quickly as sunshine, 
 and the arrival of the Barren Jones will be a bright ray in 
 the present gloom that surrounds His Excellency.. 
 
 M. le Cardinal Phillips wiU be at M. le Barren's hotel at 
 2 o'clock, if not before, unless he hears from that distin- 
 guished personage to the contrary. 
 
 When the funeral is over, his black garments will 
 disappear for the more gorgeous plumage of the peacock, 
 and a smile wiU replace the tear — sich is life. 
 
 XI. 
 To Miss Phillips. 
 
 Honor Oak Villas, 
 
 Forest Hill, 
 
 27.10.52. 
 I hasten to make you partakers in a bit of good news. 
 I was dining with a party of friends at their club (the 
 Reform), when, Thackeray being in the room, our conversa- 
 tion turned on Pv/nch. Philp said that he had often 
 thought of attempting a periodical of a similar nature, 
 always thinking that capital would buy talent ; but — " they 
 were at a loss for a good name." I at once proposed 
 
APPENDIX. 171 
 
 " Diogenes," the observer of manners and cynic philosopher 
 It was received with much applause. After that we 
 adjourned, and the matter was dropped. We have dined 
 several times at the club since, but the conversation has 
 never been renewed. 
 
 On Saturday, to my surprise, Philp came down to 
 Forest Hill, stated that all arrangements were made, and 
 proposed that I should assist him in conducting the 
 journal. I agreed. An agreement has been signed for six 
 months at six pounds a week ; at the end of that time, 
 should the paper succeed, to be considerably increased. 
 
 Yours, etc., 
 
 Watts. 
 XII. 
 To E. W. Phillips. 
 
 11, Hills Place, 
 
 Oxford Street. 
 
 I am sure you will pardon my not having replied before 
 to your question whether I am able to furnish a story or 
 stories to a new magazine. The fact is, I was unwilling to 
 say " No " as long as there was a possibihty of my doing so ; 
 but, as I feared, my time just now is so occupied that I can 
 only think of my stage engagements, which are so pressing 
 ' that I have had to withdraw from my offer of a series ot 
 articles for the Daily News, made to my friend Mr. 
 Labouchere. I have a new piece commissioned, also a 
 comedy. Under these circumstances I am " fettered " [the 
 title of one of his dramas] for a few months. Etc. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 A Fragment. 
 
 After "Lost in London," I believe in the evil eye 
 Neville was saying to me a few days ago that he thought 
 
172 WATTS PHILLIPS. 
 
 every actor and actress in London must in course of time 
 have a "turn" at "Lost in London," and has just illustrated 
 his own jest. Playing with a loaded revolver, he has sent a 
 small bullet through his hand — a very nasty wound — and 
 Phillips acted the part last night. I went with Knight 
 and Tomhns to the Arundel yesterday evening ; this final 
 change was welcomed with roars of laughter. I recom- 
 mended the head-carpenter last night to understudy Job, 
 in case Phillips, etc. etc. He promised he would. 
 
 XIV. 
 My dear Doctor [Canton], 
 
 Webster (and Webster only) is coming to my place 
 at half-past five sharp to-morrow for a chat and a shce 
 (nothing more) of Dartmoor mutton. Mind, that's all ; but 
 then there's the chat, which you can so greatly assist in. 
 Will you come en faTnille and sans c6r6monie ? If so, send 
 a telegram that I may order an extra potato. Please say 
 "Yes "or "No." Say "Yes." 
 
 I make no apology for this brief invitation, but W 
 
 only said, " I'll come and have a gossip to-morrow," and I 
 know we shall be cosy with you. 
 
 Sincerely and affectionately yours, 
 
 Watts Phillips. 
 
 XY. 
 To E. W. Phillips. 
 
 The Firs, Edenbridge. 
 
 I know nothing about " Marlborough," nor " Yvonne," 
 nor "Amos." Absolutely nothing. Vining came down here 
 
appendix: 173 
 
 for me to read the piece to him. His conception of Marl- 
 borough is admiirahle. His notion of the part is wonderfully 
 good. He thinks, and Canton says that Webster told him, 
 Canton, last week, Marlborough and the Duchess are two of 
 the finest rSles in the modern drama. 
 
 My dear old friend Dr. Canton came down last Saturday, 
 staying tUl Monday. He brought me a very pretty present 
 in the shape of a breast-pin, consisting of a solid gold 
 nugget. 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 Watts. 
 
 XVI. 
 The Same. 
 
 The Firs, Edenbridge. 
 
 Nothing new about " Amos." The Rousbys yet rule the 
 roast. " Marlborough " is still with his legs in the stocks, 
 much to my annoyance, for Edwin Booth has offered to 
 purchase the right to play it in America — a great actor. 
 Webster refuses even to answer Vining's letter, and the 
 latter is now savage against everybody, and can't move one 
 way or the other. 
 
 Capital letter, and capital fellow, Labouchere. A good 
 Mend to me. Poor Paris indeed ! I can't write about it. 
 Coleridge was right when he compared the French nation 
 to a barrel of gunpowder. Half the Communists were 
 honest, single-minded, pure-hearted men ; the other half 
 infernal scoundrels who would have burnt their own mothers 
 for a franc and a half a day. 
 
 I am contemplating a drama with the Franco-Prussian 
 War for a background. I don't think the idea a bad one. 
 
 The two dramas mentioned in the Athenceum and else- 
 where are our old friends "Amos" and " Yvonne's Revenge." 
 Owing to the continued talk about " Amos," by some means 
 
174 WATTS PSILLIPS. 
 
 the book [the novel written by Mr. Phillips some years pre- 
 viously] has got over to America, and is annoimced, with 
 " Canary Bird," to appear as the "feuilletons " in a leading 
 New York paper, by " Fairfax Balfour " ! ! ! 
 
 Leicester WaUack, who has got copies of the drama in 
 readiness to bring out simultaneously with its production 
 here, sends me the enclosed extracts, adding, " I fear it wUl 
 lose you your chance over here, for it is certain to be 
 dramatised. I thought the stories (' Amos ' and ' Canary 
 Bird') were out of print? It is a serious loss to you, this 
 procrastination in England." 
 
 How could " Amos " have got to America just at this 
 present time ? I know neither of the stories can be pro- 
 cured at the publisher's, who says they are out of print. It 
 puzzles me, and looks like mahce. Isn't all this like my 
 luck? 
 
 Tell J. J 1 congratulate him on his success. 
 
 Yours, etc. 
 
 Watts. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 PbIHTED by CASBELL & COMPAITY, LIMITED, La BELLE SAtTTAOB, LOHDON, E.G.