Chapter VIII: Prologue: Spoken by FLORENCE MARRYAT,

and interrupted by GEO. GROSSMITH, JUN.

HUMOROUS MUSICAL SCENA... "On the Sands" ... _Grossmith_.
GEO. GROSSMITH, JUN.

COSTUME RECITAL... "Joan of Arc in Prison" ... _James Albery_.
FLORENCE MARRYAT.
(With the Scena by LINDSAY SLOPER.)

HUMOROUS MUSICAL SCENA... "A Cold Collation" ... _Grossmith_.
GEO. GROSSMITH, JUN.

COSTUME RECITAL... "The Grandmother" ... ... _Tennyson_.
FLORENCE MARRYAT.

HISTORICAL MEDLEY... "Richard Coeur-de-Leon" ... _E. Draper_.

INTERVAL OF THREE MINUTES.

To conclude with a Satirical Musical Sketch, entitled

"CUPS AND SAUCERS."
(Written and Composed expressly by GEO. GROSSMITH, Jun.)

MRS. EMILY NANKEEN WORCESTER
(A China Maniac) ... FLORENCE MARRYAT.

GENERAL DEELAH
(Another) ... ... ... GEO. GROSSMITH, JUN.

The above is the last joint entertainment I ever gave, except with my father, and I only fulfilled one or two more with him.

"Cups and Saucers" was afterwards played before _H.M.S. Pinafore_, at the Opera Comique, for about 500 nights. It is still played a great deal by amateurs all over the country, both with and without my permission. This entertainment with Miss Marryat was more of an artistic success than a financial one. Sometimes we did very well, and sometimes we did not. In Scotland we always had crowded rooms; but at the Antient Concert Rooms, Dublin, we played a whole month, the majority of the time to half-full rooms. I enjoyed the month in Dublin, for all that. The people were most hospitable; and so Florence Marryat, her companion (Miss Glover), Mr. George Dolby, and myself managed to enjoy ourselves. Henry Irving was in Dublin at the time, and, as I had the privilege of being an old friend of his, I naturally came in for all his parties; and Irving is a prince of hosts.

Florence Marryat, in her excellent book _Tom Tiddler's Ground_, has regaled her readers with several stories about me; so I am going to have my revenge. She is a great believer in spiritualism, and on one occasion, in Dublin, she persuaded me to sit at a table with her. The table began to tilt, rap, creak, and move; and it is not in my province to attempt to explain the marvellous phenomena. My explanation would be too simple to be scientific. The conditions, however, are, that if the table tilts three times in answer to a question, it means "Yes," and if only once "No." Florence Marryat informed me--and I have no reason to doubt her word--that a gentleman, with a name something like "Sticks," was endeavouring to communicate with her through the table. It appears that poor "Sticks" had left this world through an excess of stimulants. Two questions were asked by Miss Marryat, and replied to by "Sticks." At last Mr. "Sticks" condescended, with three tilts, to imply that he would answer my questions. Miss Marryat begged that I would not be irreverent; and I argued that if I were, I presumed "Sticks" would treat me with contempt.

I said to the table: "Mr. Sticks, I wish to ask you a few questions?"

[By-the-by, I believe he was a "Colonel Sticks." It is of little consequence now in this story; but it was at the time, for spirits, like human beings, are most particular about being addressed by their proper titles.]

In reply to my question, "Sticks" oscillated the table violently, which, I was informed, meant agitation on his part. Florence Marryat told me the poor chap was in purgatory.

I said: "Sticks, I believe you died of drink?"

Three decisive tilts of the table.

"Now, Mr. Sticks," I asked, "is it possible to take too much drink in purgatory?"

The table was seized with convulsions, and wriggled and oscillated to a corner of the room. When it was quiet, I said:

"Mr. Sticks, do not think I mean to be disrespectful; but are you drunk now?"

Then came three solemn but distinct tilts.

Florence Marryat considered I was most discourteous to poor "Sticks," and has never since sat with me at a table, except for lunch or dinner.

A sudden illness of Miss Marryat was, on one occasion, the cause of an unrehearsed, but withal very successful, entertainment.

Miss Marryat and I were announced to appear at the Town Hall, Cardiff, in our entertainment, "Entre Nous." I copy the following from a Cardiff paper of February 1st, 1877:

"MR. GEO. GROSSMITH, JUN., AT THE TOWN-HALL, CARDIFF.--Between you and me, gentle reader, or, as the advertisements have had it so prominently of late, _entre nous_, there was no 'Entre Nous' at the Assembly Rooms, Cardiff, last night. At the last moment it was announced that Miss Florence Marryat was incapacitated by a serious illness from taking her part in the promised performance. A capital audience had been drawn to the Town Hall, a large number of whom were, doubtless, attracted by the expectation of seeing this talented authoress and most gifted _artiste_. It is, however, only due to them to say that they bore their disappointment kindly, and, with only one exception, the whole of the audience--although the promoters of the entertainment offered to return their money at the doors--remained to witness the single-handed entertainment provided by Mr. George Grossmith, jun. And it was well for them they did so, for they enjoyed a treat which must have made even Miss Marryat's absence almost appear in the light of a blessing. At the last moment, whilst the audience were grimly reading the announcement of that lady's sudden illness, at the time when consternation was reigning in the bosom of those enterprising _entrepreneurs_, Messrs. Thompson and Shackell, and whilst Mr. George Grossmith, jun., was shivering in his shoes with timidity at the thought of the cool reception which, in his bereaved condition, he was likely to obtain, a sudden and a happy thought flashed across the mind of one of his friends. 'Why not get Courtenay Clarke* to give you a lift, my boy?' suggested one of the bystanders. 'I scarcely dare ask him,' replied the desponding entertainer. 'Oh, but he was one of your father's warmest friends,' rejoined the speaker; 'and his good nature is only equalled by his marvellous comic power. Anyhow, you can try it, for I see that he and Colonel Page have just entered the room.' And so the attempt upon Mr. Clarke's good nature was made; and, fortunately, it was successful. There was a mysterious whispering between Mr. Shackell and the intended victim. Then the pair retired to the ante-room, and their arguments were addressed to Mr. Clarke's kindly feeling of friendship, which resulted in the appearance on the platform, very shortly afterwards, of the clever young entertainer, escorted by Mr. Clarke, who took the chair. In a speech of inimitable humour, he explained and apologised for the absence of Miss Marryat, and introduced, with words of encouragement, the younger Grossmith. Of this gentleman's performance it is scarcely necessary to speak in detail. It is the very essence of refined musical comedy."

* Mr. Courtenay C. Clarke was a resident at Cardiff, who generally entertained my father and myself on our professional visits. He became a great friend of mine, and he was a most talented amateur reciter and raconteur. I last saw him about two years ago, when he and Colonel C. Page, of Cardiff (also an intimate friend of mine), supped with me at the Garrick.

Here follow twenty-eight lines of such a flattering description that my modesty (forgive me, gentle reader) will not permit of my reproducing them. The notice continues thus:

"Gratified, however, as everybody was with Mr. Grossmith's performance, the real 'fun of the fair' commenced when Mr. Courtenay Clarke essayed his wonderful reminiscences of Mr. Grossmith the elder. With marvellous fidelity, Mr. Clarke has caught the very trick of voice and manner which constitute the chiefest charm of that mellow humorist. One could almost imagine one was in Mr. Grossmith's company whilst listening to Mr. Clarke's side-splitting imitations. The delicate little side-hits, and exposition of social and personal foibles, added life to the sketch; so that the audience were constrained to laugh at George Grossmith himself, as well as at the delightful comic "bits" which constitute his well-known entertainment. . . . Altogether, we can honestly say that a better or more acceptable entertainment than was given at the Town Hall last night has seldom been witnessed in Cardiff."

Perhaps the most amusing incident that ever occurred to Florence Marryat and myself was at the time we were giving a Saturday night's entertainment at a large hall to a popular audience at Glasgow. A brusque and brawny Scotchman was the caretaker, or hall-porter. I sought him out and informed him that there was neither towel nor soap in either of dressing-rooms.

He firmly told me that I must find my own towel and soap, as it did not answer his purpose to do so.

I asked what he meant.

He said that the entertainers generally stole the soap and towels afterwards.

There was no attempt to wrap up the accusation. He called a spade a spade, without doubt. I was very indignant, and said: "Do you dare to insinuate that a lady like Florence Marryat, a well-known novelist, would steal your penn'orth of soap and fourpenny towel?"

He replied: "I don't know anything about Miss Marryat, and I don't care. All I know is, you entertainers always do walk off with my soap and towels, and I'll ha' no more of it."