What a sell! I had been brought to see Charley’s Aunt.
One night after my return to London I was dining with William Heinemann, the publisher, to meet the great “Jimmy” Whistler. I was telling Mr. Brandon Thomas, the author of Charley’s Aunt, this funny little experience, when he remarked:
“I can tell you another. My wife and I had been staying in the Swiss mountains, when one day we reached Zürich. ‘Let us try to get a decent dinner,’ I said, ‘for I am sick of table d’hôtes.’ Accordingly we dined on the best Zürich could produce, and then asked the waiter what play he would recommend.
“‘The theatres are closed just now,’ he replied.
“‘But surely something is open?’
“‘Ah, well, yes, there’s a sort of music hall, but the Herrschaften would not care to go there.’
“‘Why not?’ I exclaimed, longing for some diversion.
“‘Because they are only playing a very vulgar piece, it would not please the gnädige Frau, it is a stupid English farce.’
“‘Never mind how stupid. Tell me its name.’
“‘It is called,’ replied the waiter, ‘Die Tante.’”