Was it possible that I, a woman of no particular education, no particular gift as far as I knew, could become one of the army of workers?
That an occupation was necessary, I resolved. I had no money to enjoy my old world, not enough to keep up my old home. There were debts to be paid. The children must be properly educated, something must be done—Ah—but what?
Should I turn to the stage? There I felt fairly sure of success. I could walk, talk, move as a lady, knew how to recite and speak; besides, had I not had that girlish offer when I was less capable than now?
In the early ’eighties Mrs. J. H. Riddell, the then fashionable novelist, started a magazine called Home. Looking back, I fancy she wrote a good deal of the copy herself, anyway, it was fairly successful, and amongst other articles was one called “Here and There,” by an Idle Man. This gives in a few words her impressions of my performance as a girl in the schoolroom.
THEATRICALS
“SWEETHEARTS.”
A Dramatic Contrast, by W. S. Gilbert.
| Act I | |
|---|---|
| Garden Scene—Early Spring, 1849. | |
Harry Spreadbrow (the Young Lover) | Sir William Magnay, Bart. |
Wilcox (the Old Gardener) | General Anderson. |
Jenny Northcott | Miss Ethel B. Harley. |
| Act II | |
| The Fall of the Leaf, after a lapse of Thirty Years. | |
Sir Henry Spreadbrow (an Old Indian Judge) | Sir William Magnay, Bart. |
Miss Northcott | Miss Ethel B. Harley. |
Ruth (her maid-servant) | Miss Maud Holt (afterwardsLady Beerbohm Tree). |
Scenery painted by Miss Ethel B. Harley, Proscenium by General Anderson.
Number 25, Harley Street, is the residence of Doctor George Harley, F.R.S., the mention of whose name will at once recall to the readers of Home “My Ghost Story”—so weird a narrative that, to my thinking, it was a pity to mar its dramatic effect by explanation. To the general public, he is better known by the results of his labours in the field of medical science; but it is only his friends who are aware of his large experience, his wide knowledge, and his untiring efforts to make the age in which he lives wiser, happier, better. Though still, comparatively speaking, young, he has been on terms of intimacy with most of the men of the Victorian era, whose memories (alas! we live fast now and the great die too soon) will never be forgotten while the English language remains to tell of their achievements; and his conversation teems with anecdotes concerning famous beauties, authors, artists, statesmen, millionaires. No pleasanter hour could be spent than in hearing his kindly appreciative talk concerning “People I have known.”
His observation of the habits of animals also has been marvellous. I never recollect reading anything which conveyed so vivid a picture to my mind, as his verbal description of a lake haunted by wild swans in Scotland.