From a Photo by Elliott & Fry.
By a special journalistic contrivance—a contrivance which for rapidity of change of scene has never been approached on the stage—
THE DINING-ROOM.
From the Photo by Elliott & Fry.
Scene II.—Dining-room. Massive and substantial oak furniture. Birch's statuette of The Modern Mathews as David Garrick near the window. The walls are covered with exquisite examples of Reamore, Toulmonche, Ethoper, &c., views of Spain, Venice, and all places suggestive of sunshine and dark-eyed maidens, having for companion canvases pictures of English rural life, Scotch cattle, Welsh valleys, and Irish lakes.
The Modern Mathews (aside): M.C.! M.C.! M.C.!
Interviewer: And you never forget your parts?
The Modern Mathews: Oh! I beg your pardon. Now, if you hadn't spoken I should have found that case in another minute! No, I've never forgotten a part since I was dismissed by Mrs. John Wood in New York in 1864. It was the first time I ever played an important part, and I had a very long speech to make. This speech always frightened me—it was a perpetual nightmare. I used to dream about it, breakfast with it, lunch, tea, dine, and sup with it. When the eventful night came I found myself only thinking of the words instead of their meaning. I had to give a glowing description of a young girl's beauty, crying out: "Drunk with enthusiasm, I exclaimed," etc., etc., etc. I had reached the word "Drunk," when all became a blank. I repeated the word two or three times, and finally went for it with "Drunk—I exclaimed—happy the being," etc.! I was dismissed.
(Barking heard off. Dogs rush on.)