The Modern Mathews (merrily, for he revels in talking about his favourite character): Ah! "Davy"! I produced "Davy" in '86. I was about to produce a farcical comedy, and, as a matter of fact, had got within two days of the advertised first night—indeed, it came to within forty-eight hours of the time—when I became convinced that it was no use. On the Friday I frankly issued an announcement stating that I had no confidence in the piece. It was a toss-up between "Brighton" and "Wild Oats." Eventual decision—"Wild Oats." A great success—Miss Mary Moore and David James secured a big triumph.
Interviewer: And yourself?
The Modern Mathews: Well, I played Rover. Up to this moment I had made up my mind never to play any part of Sotheran's or Charles Mathews', and when Mr. Calmour suggested my playing "David Garrick," I told him this. Others suggested "Davy," too, and finally Clement Scott, one night at supper, talked me into it. I was very nervous of "D.G." on the first night, because I had altered the intention of the dramatist in the second act by taking it more seriously. At one time I began to rehearse it with all the nonsense out of it, but finally decided to curtail the original "business" so as not to disappoint lovers of the old version. It ran from November, 1886, to August, 1887. I have revived it every year since, and so far as paying business goes, "Pink Dominos" is not in it. Ah! here we are. Come into my cabin.
MR. WYNDHAM AS "DAVID GARRICK."
From a Photo by Barraud, London.
Brougham stops at theatre. The Modern Mathews and Interviewer ascend a somewhat steep flight of stairs leading to—
Scene VI.—A cabin. It is really an apartment fitted up exactly like a cabin on a wealthy man's yacht. Not a detail is missing. Even the portholes are there, and you peep out on to a sea of carriages, cabs, vans, and pedestrians. Luxuriously furnished. Table centre: papers scattered about, designs and estimates for scenes—one at a trifle above £1,000—huge pile of letters.
The Modern Mathews (very busy—here, there, and everywhere): Excuse me—M.L.! No, no—not my life—finished with that; my letters! (Opens one—reads.) Look at that. (Hands letter.) Fellow wants two for the dress circle. Has no claim on the theatre save his "great love for the drama!" (Opens another letter.) Ah! nicely scented envelope. (Reads): "Dear sir, will you send us two seats for the matinée on Saturday? A gentleman friend told us you always give seats away. We want to come to the afternoon performance, because ma hates theatres, and won't let us go if she can help it!"