He was a hard worker, and said his epitaph should be: "Dion Boucicault; his first holiday."
Where shall my pen wander next?
Montague and Coghlan
I can revive memories in the old—and tell a little to the young—of actors who became prominent as members of our companies at different times. Let me try to do so. First, there was Harry Montague. Without being an actor of high rank, he had a great value as a jeune premier. He was what I heard an American describe as "so easy to look at." His charm of manner made him a special favourite everywhere, and he was the original matinee idol. When in his company he had the gift of making you believe that he had thought but of you since your last parting, and, when he said "good-bye," that you would remain in his memory until you met again.
He was in America, acting in Diplomacy, when he died suddenly; as young in years as he always seemed in heart; for he was but midway between thirty and forty, that age upon the border-land when one has to own to being no more young, while resenting for a little while that ambiguous epithet, "middle-aged."
Charles Coghlan was an actor of a higher grade; gifted, cultivated and able: his acting as Alfred Evelyn and Charles Surface in our elaborate revivals of Money and The School for Scandal was of the highest character. It may be interesting to note that when he first joined our company his salary was £9 a week; during his last engagement we paid him £60, which would be doubled now. I asked him once to accompany me on a short holiday abroad, and found him a delightful companion. This was soon after the siege of Paris, when many of the terrible stains left on the fair city's face were sadly visible.
Coghlan often lived outside London, at places like Elstree and Kingsbury, generally in picturesque old houses. My wife and I rode out to one of them to luncheon. For a time he drove a rather ramshackle four-in-hand, and, naturally, was in constant financial trouble. He ended his career rather recklessly in America, at Galveston, and his body was washed out to sea from the catacombs by a flood. It was afterwards recovered and reburied.
The father of the happily present Dion and Donald Calthrop, a connection of Lord Alverstone, John Clayton (Calthrop) was also a fine actor. His performance in All for Her was of a high order, and he did some admirable work with Irving at the Lyceum. I also recall a remarkable piece of acting on his part in a play, adapted from the French, in which he appeared as a father whose brain was turned by his having accidentally shot his little son. Under our flag, he only acted in Diplomacy and Caste. He was then growing fat, and never knew of a strong wish I had to revive the Merry Wives of Windsor, with himself as Falstaff. He was otherwise engaged, unfortunately. This was when that brilliant actress Mrs. John Wood was with us, to play with my wife the two Merry Wives, supported by myself as the jealous Mr. Ford—I always found the portrayal of jealousy very amusing—and a troupe of able and suitable comedians.
Clayton gave remarkable performances in the joyous comedies by Pinero at the Court Theatre. He died young.