Arthur Cecil
Arthur Cecil comes next to my mind: an amiable gentleman and companion. It was I who, when he was "wobbling," as he did on every subject, induced him to go on the professional stage. He seemed to me to pass a large slice of his life in the effort—or want of effort—to make up his mind on trivial things, and so wasted at least one half of it.
At the dress rehearsal of Diplomacy—in which he gave a fine performance of Baron Stein—he appeared with a totally different make-up in each act. They were all clever and appropriate, but we, not he, had to decide for him which was to be finally adopted. He was very devoted to what Sir James Barrie christened "Little Mary." On one occasion, after dining at the Garrick Club, before his evening's work, having finished his meal with a double helping of orange tart, he was leaving the coffee-room, when he saw a friend seated near the door just beginning his dinner. Cecil sat down opposite to him for a few minutes to exchange greetings; he became so restless and agitated at the sight of a dish of stewed eels that at last he dug a fork into a mouthful, saying, "I must," and so wound up his meal. There are several similar stories extant, equally amazing, equally true.
Henry Kemble
Our old and staunch friend, Henry Kemble, a descendant of the illustrious stage family whose name he bore, was for years a valued member of our company; a capable but restricted actor, from his peculiarity of diction. My wife christened him "The Beetle," owing to a large brown Inverness cape he wore at night. Many are the amusing stories told of him. He fought the income tax strenuously, and on one occasion, being brought to bay, told the collector that he belonged to a precarious profession, and begged that Her Majesty might be asked not to look upon him as a source of income!
Kemble was well up in Shakespeare, and had a greater knowledge of the Bible than any actor I have known, except one.
This reminds me of a visit paid, at his instigation, on a New Year's Eve, in the company of his close friend, Arthur Cecil, to a midnight service held in one of the big churches. They entered reverently, just before the hour, and were about to kneel, when a verger touched Kemble on the shoulder and said: "I beg your pardon, gentlemen, but this is a service being held for fallen women."
Kemble suddenly made up his mind to retire from the stage and end his days in Jersey, not in a cloistered cathedral city, as he said would be the case. He, unfortunately, invested his savings in an annuity, as he only lived a few months after doing so. He came to see my wife, to whom he was much attached, to say good-bye, and brought her some fine Waterford glass as a farewell gift. When fatally ill, his last words were written to her on a telegraph form: "All over, dear, dear Lady B. Blessings on you all. Beetle." The doctor who attended him transcribed the words, and sent my wife the tremblingly-written farewell he had penned himself—a touching and kind act.
Another friend and comrade of those days was the humorous Charles Brookfield, son of Canon Brookfield, a distinguished preacher. My wife and I gave the young undergraduate what was practically his first engagement, and he remained a popular member of our company during the whole of our career at the Haymarket. Several of his performances showed marked ability, notably in Sardou's play, Odette, and Pinero's comedy, Lords and Commons. Many amusing stories are attributed to him. Against the accuracy of one of them I must rebel. It ran in this way: That at a time when Charles Wyndham was appearing in his favourite part of David Garrick, for a run, he was sitting in the club named after the great actor, just under one of his several portraits there, when Brookfield went up to Wyndham and said: "It really seems quite surprising, you grow more like Garrick every day." Wyndham gave a delighted smile; when Brookfield continued, in his peculiar cynical way: "Yes, every day, but less like him every night." A good story; but, unfortunately, Brookfield was never a member of the Garrick Club.