But to return to Weedon Grossmith. Whether he found art didn’t pay at the studio in Harley Street, or whether he was asked to paint more ugly old ladies than pretty young ones, I do not know; but he gave up the house, and went off to America for a trip. So he said at the time, but the trip meant that he had accepted an engagement on the stage. He made an instantaneous hit. When he returned to England, sure of his position, as he thought, he found instead that he had a very rough time of it, and it was not until he played with Sir Henry Irving in Robert Macaire that he made a London success. Later he “struck oil” in Arthur Law’s play, The New Boy under his own management.
Round the The New Boy circled a romance. Miss May Palfrey, who had been at school with me, was the daughter of an eminent physician who formerly lived in Brook Street. She had gone upon the stage after her father’s death, and was engaged to play the girl’s part. The “engagement” begun in the theatre ended, as in the case of Forbes Robertson, in matrimony, and the day after The New Boy went out, the new girl entered Weedon Grossmith’s home as his wife.
Success has followed success, and they now live in a delightful house in Bedford Square, surrounded by quaint old furniture, Adams’ mantelpieces, overmantels, and all the artistic things the actor appreciates. A dear little girl adds brightness to the home life of Mr. and Mrs. Weedon Grossmith.
Artist, author, actor, manager, are all terms that may be applied to Weedon Grossmith, but might not scene-painter be added after his invaluable aid in the Harley Street store-room with paints and size?
So much for the amateur side of the business: now for the real.
The first thing a scenic artist does is to make a complete sketch of a scene. This, when approved, he has “built up” as a little model, a miniature theatre, in fact, such as children love to play with. It is usually about three feet square, exactly like a box, and every part is designed to scale with a perfection of detail rarely observed outside an architect’s office.
One of the most historic painting-rooms was that of Sir Henry Irving at the Lyceum, for there some of the most elaborate stage settings ever produced were constructed, inspired by the able hand of Mr. Hawes Craven.
A scene-painter’s workshop is a large affair. It is very high, and below the floor is another chamber equally lofty, for the “flats,” or large canvases, have to be screwed up or down for the artist to be able to get at his work. They cannot be rolled wet, so the entire “flat” has to ascend or descend at will.
To make the matter clear, a scene on the stage, such as a house or a bridge, is known as a “carpenter’s scene.” The large canvases at the back are called “flats,” or “painters’ cloths.” “Wings” are unknown to most people, but really mean the side-pieces of the scene which protrude on the stage. The “borders” are the bits of sky or ceiling which hang suspended from above, and a “valarium” is a whole roof as used in classical productions.