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Home , Alice May, Andrew Lamb (writer), Canterbury Music Hall, Emily Soldene, Frederic Clay

Alice May FORGOTTEN STARS OF THE Kurt Gänzl, Series Editor Lydia Thompson, BY KURT GÄNZL , BY ANDREW LAMB William B.Gill, BY KURT GÄNZL David Braham, BY JOHN FRANCESCHINA , BY ADRIENNE SIMPSON Harry B.Smith, BY JOHN FRANCESCHINA Alice May

Gilbert and Sullivan’s First Prima Donna

Adrienne Simpson

FORGOTTEN STARS OF THE MUSICAL THEATRE

ROUTLEDGE NEW YORK AND Published in 2003 by Routledge 29 West 35th Street New York, NY 10001 www.routledge-ny.com Published in Great Britain by Routledge 11 New Fetter Lane London EC4P 4EE www.routledge.co.uk Copyright © 2003 by Adrienne Simpson Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group. This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2005. “To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.” All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available from the Library of Congress

ISBN 0-203-49257-9 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN 0-203-57565-2 (Adobe eReader Format) ISBN 0-415-93750-7 (hb) For Richard and Nicky with love Contents

SERIES INTRODUCTION vii INTRODUCTION AND xi ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Chapter One THE MYSTERIOUS MISS MAY 1 Chapter Two GREEN GIRL IN A GOLDEN LAND 17 Chapter Three NEW DIRECTIONS, NEW ROLES 30 Chapter Four TOAST OF THE ANTIPODES 40 Chapter Five INDIAN ADVENTURE 52 Chapter six CROWNED WITH SUCCESS 67 Chapter Seven WORKING FOR D’OYLY CARTE 81 Chapter Eight ALLY PALLY TO THE ALHAMBRA 100 Chapter Nine PRIMA DONNA IN THE PROVINCES 119 Chapter Ten STARTING AFRESH IN AMERICA 132 Chapter Eleven PLAYING THE CASINO 151 Chapter Twelve “A PERFECT KATISHA” 164 Chapter Thirteen DOWNWARD SPIRAL 176

NOTES193 INDEX197 Series Introduction “Sic transit gloria spectaculi” Some Famous but Forgotten Figures of the Musical Threatre Kurt Gänzl

Over the past few years, I have spent most of my time researching, writing, and otherwise putting together the vast quantity of text involved in the second edition of my now three-volumed Encyclopedia of the Musical Theatre. And, as the Lord Chancellor in Iolanthe exhaustedly sings, “thank goodness they’re both of them over!” Part of this extremely extended extending exercise involved my compiling bibliographies of biographical works for the hundreds (or was it thousands?) of people whose careers in the musical theatre warranted an entry in the Encyclopedia. As I duly compiled, however, I became surprisedly aware of just how many outstanding figures of the historical stage have never, ever been made the subject of even a monograph-sized “life and works.”Time and time again, I found that the articles that I have researched (from scratch, not only by choice but quite simply because no-one has ever, it seems, done it before) and written for the Encyclopedia are the largest pieces of biographical copy up till now put together on this or that person or personality. And I do not mean nobodies: I mean some of the most important and most fascinating theatrical figures of the nineteenth and early twentieth century theatres. This series of short biographies is intended to take the first small step towards rectifying that situation. To bring back to notice and, perhaps, even to their rightful place in the history of the international theatre, a few of the people whose names have—for all but the scholar and the specialist—drifted into the darkness of the past, leaving too little trace. viii

This is a very personal project and one very dear to my heart. And because it is so personal, even though the majority of the volumes in the series are written by my closest colleagues in the theatre-books world, rather than by myself, you will find that they have me stamped on them in some ways. And I take full responsibility for that. These books are not intended to be university theses. You will not find them dotted with a dozen footnotes per page, and hung with vast appendices of sources. I am sure that that is a perfectly legitimate way of writing biography, but it’s a way that has never appealed to me and, because I am being allowed to “do it my way” in this series, the paraphernalia of the thesis, of the learned pamphlet, has here been kept to a minimum. My care, in these biographies, is not to be “learned”; it is to tell the story of Lydia, or Willie or Alice, of Tom or Harry or of Dave, of her or his career in the theatre and (as much as is possible at a century’s distance) on the other side of the footlights as well: to relate what they did and what they achieved, what they wrote or what they sang, where they went and with whom, what happened to them and what became of them. Because these people had fascinating lives—well, they fascinate me, and I hope they will fascinate you too—and just to tell their stories, free of any decoration, any theorizing, any generalities, any “significance” (oh! that word)—seems to me to be thoroughly justified. The decoration, the theorizing, the generalities, and an exaggerated search for (shudder) significance will all be missing. Perhaps because I’ve spent so much of my life as a writer of reference works and encyclopedias, I am a thorough devotee of fact, and these books are intended to be made up wholly of fact. Not for me even the “educated guess.” Not unless one admits it’s just a guess, anyhow. So, what you will get from us are quite a lot of dates and places, facts and figures, quite a lot of theatre-bills reproduced word for word from the originals, quite a lot of songwords from the songwriters and singers, of text from the playwrights and actors and, where we have been able to dig it up, as much autograph material from the hands of our subjects as is humanly possible. What you won’t get any more than can be helped is the “he must have felt that…” (must he, who says?), or the “perhaps she….” There will be no invented conversations. No “Marie Antoinette turned to Toulouse-Lautrec and said “you haven’t telephoned Richard the Lion-heart this week…” “Direct speech in a biography ix

of a pre-recording-age subject seems to me to be an absolute denial of the first principle of biography: the writing down of the content and actions of someone ‘s life. Indeed, there will be nothing invented at all. My theory of biography, as I say, is that it is facts. And if the facts of someone’s life are not colorful and interesting enough in themselves to make up a worthwhile book, then—well, I’ve chosen the wrong people to biographize. Choosing those people to whom to devote these first six volumes was actually not as difficult as I’d thought it might be. When Richard, my editor, asked me for a first list of “possibles” I wrote it down—a dozen names—in about five minutes. It started, of course, with all my own particular “pets”: the special little group of a half- dozen oldtime theatre folk who, through my twenty years and more working in this field, have particularly grabbed my interest, and provoked me to want to learn more and more and indeed everything about them. The only trouble was…I was supposed to be editing this series, not writing the whole jolly thing. And there was no way that I was handing over any of my special pets to someone else—not even Andrew, Adrienne, or John—so I had to choose. Just two. Lydia Thompson, to me, was the most obvious candidate of all. How on earth theatre literature has got to its present state without someone (even for all the wrong reasons) turning out a book on Lydia, when there are three or four books on Miss Blurbleurble and two or three on Miss Nyngnyng, I cannot imagine. Lydia chose herself. Having picked myself this “plum,” I then decided that I really ought to be a bit tougher on myself with my second pick. Certainly, I could take it easy and perhaps pot the incomplete but already over-one-million-word biography of the other great international star of Lydia’s era, , which is hidden bulgingly under my desk, into a convenient package. But then…why not have a crack at a really tough nut? When I said I was going to “do” Willie Gill, almost everyone— even the most knowledgeable of my friends and colleagues—said “who?” Which seems to me to be a very good reason for putting down on paper the tale of the life and works of the man who wrote Broadway’s biggest hit musical of his era.Tough it has been and tough it is, tracking him and his down, but what satisfaction to drag from the marshes of the past something which seemed so wholly forgotten. A full-scale biography of a man about whom nothing was known! x

Having realized that these two choices were pinned to the fact that it was I who was going to be writing about them, I then also realized that I ought to be considering my other choices not from own “pet” list, but to suit the other authors who were going to take part in the series. First catch your author. Well, I caught three. The fourth, pretexting age, overuse, and retirement, got away. But I got the other three—my three (since the fourth is retired) favorite and most respected writer colleagues in the theatre-books business. Enter Andrew, Adrienne, and John: one from England, one from New Zealand, and one from America. A very judicious geographical spread. And the subjects for the four final volumes were, of course, chosen in function of what enthused them. For Andrew, the not-so-very-forgotten English songwriter Leslie Stuart, whose Florodora songs stunned Broadway, and the rest of the world, in the earliest years of this century. For Adrienne, the mysterious Alice May, whose career ranged from Australia and New Zealand to the West End and Broadway and who has gone down in history—when anyone reads that bit of history—as ’s first (full-length) prima donna. For John, two very different American writers: the musician Dave Braham who, while his wordsmith Ned Harrigan has attracted repeated attention down through the years, has been himself left puzzlingly in the shade, and the prolific, ebullient Harry B Smith, the writer who flooded Broadway with over two hundred musicals in an amazing and amazingly successful career. I feel bad about the ones who have got left on the cutting-room floor…but, maybe later? If we all survive what I’ve discovered with some apprehension is the intensive work needed to extract from the past the life and works of someone long gone, and largely forgotten. But it has been worth it. Worth all the work. I’ve enjoyed it enormously. I know my colleagues have enjoyed it, and are still enjoying it. And I hope those of you who read the stories of Lydia, Willie, and Alice, of Dave, Harry, and Tom, will enjoy them too. And that you will remember these people. Because I really do reckon that they deserve better than to be forgotten. Introduction and Acknowledgments

Alice May created the role of the heroine, Aline, in Gilbert and Sullivan’s first successful full-length , . It is for this brief association with one of the musical stage ‘s most famous partnerships that her name is tenuously remembered today. But there was much more to Alice s career than The Sorcerer. During the 1870s and ’80s she played leading roles in dozens of comic operas. She sang in a number of world premieres and took part in the first English-language performances of several works by notable European composers. If she never quite scaled the dizzying heights of stardom reached by a few special performers such as Lydia Thompson or Emily Soldene, she nonetheless enjoyed significant success in her chosen profession. At the peak of her powers she gave pleasure to thousands and even in her sad, declining years she remained a performer of consequence, as popular with her colleagues as with the public. In addition to her accomplishments as a singer,Alice May was a particularly engaging character: loyal, feisty, goodhearted, and generous almost to the point of foolishness. She knew more about the hard graft of the theatre than the glamour. Most of her career was spent working in touring companies. This meant that she was almost constantly on the move, playing short seasons in a succession of different locations. During her lifetime she graced the stages of four continents, not just appearing in the English- speaking theatrical world’s major centers, London and New York, but also traveling the length and breadth of the British and American touring circuits and visiting the distant shores of colonial xii

India, Australia, and New Zealand. The variety of her experiences and the pioneering nature of many of her activities make her one of the more interesting and unusual figures of the nineteenth- century musical theatre. It was the combination of her adventurous career and her attractive personal qualities that first tempted me to find out more about Alice May. If I had known the number of problems, mysteries, and informational black holes that would bedevil my investigation I would probably have thought twice before beginning it. Yet the more I learned about her, the more I became convinced that Alice was worth rescuing from the obscurity in which she had languished since her death in 1887. Anyone who writes a book incurs many debts of gratitude and the greatest of mine is to Kurt Gänzl, who reinforced my belief that Alice s story was worth telling and encouraged me to stick to the task. Because Alice May traveled so widely her movements were not easy to trace, particularly for a researcher with no travel budget. As a consequence I found myself seeking help from friends and colleagues all round the globe. I am particularly grateful to Charles Pitt for his invaluable research and many illuminating letters on the subject of Alice’s Indian adventures and to Alden Small, who tackled the multitude of queries I sent him about Alice s time in America with unfailing generosity and good humor. Without their contributions, this biography could never have been written. Special thanks are also due to Pauline Neale, who dived bravely into the murky genealogical depths in search of Alice’s origins, and Andrew Lamb, who gave me practical advice at crucial moments. Others who willingly contributed vital pieces to the jigsaw puzzle were John Tyrrell, Allister Hardiman, Peter Downes, Roger Flury, Patty Fagan, Richard C. Norton, and John Ward. At some point, most nonfiction authors have to throw themselves on the mercy of far-flung libraries or paid researchers to track down information. The results are often disappointing, which makes me appreciate all the more the work of Judith Bell in London, Molly Kodner in St. Louis, and Roger Joslyn in New York, three researchers who not only delivered what they promised but showed a real enthusiasm for the project. The newspaper librarians at the National Library of New Zealand in Wellington, the National Library of Australia in Canberra, and the State Library of Pennsylvania in Harrisburg were outstandingly helpful. I would also like to single out for praise Kristina Gray Perez of the xiii

Missouri Historical Society, Judith Robertson of Harrogate Library, M.D.Raftery of Leicestershire County Council Archives, J.A.Craine of the Liverpool Record Office, and the Reference, Information and Local Studies team at Margate Library for their thoughtful and informative responses to my inquiries. Finally, many thanks to my husband and daughter, Richard and Nicky Chilton, who gave me plenty of encouragement along the way, and to Richard Carlin and the editorial team at Routledge in New York City for helping me make Alice s story known to a new audience. Adrienne Simpson Wellington, New Zealand, March 2003 Chapter 1 The Mysterious Miss May

Early on the morning of Saturday June 4, 1870, the clipper Suffolk slipped quietly into Port Philip Bay at the end of a 15,000 mile voyage to Melbourne, capital of the most important British colony on the Australian continent, Victoria. The ship had left its homeport of London barely eleven weeks earlier, so it had completed the journey in excellent time. This was only to be expected. The firm of Money, Wigram & Sons boasted a fine fleet of well-sailed vessels that were renowned for making safe and speedy passages to the colonies. The Suffolk’s trip had been particularly uneventful. No storms had been encountered en route, there had been no births aboard, and the only death was that of a man already suffering from tuberculosis before the voyage began. The greatest danger the passengers had faced was boredom. On such a long journey the novelty of shipboard life soon palled. Books, card games, impromptu entertainments, and even the production of a weekly ships gazette could do little to alleviate the tedium. Apart from a distant glimpse of Trinidad, the Suffolk’s passengers had seen nothing but ocean from the time they left their last English port-of-call, Plymouth, on March 18 until they sighted the Cape Otway lighthouse, which marked the entrance to Bass Strait and the final leg of their journey. The first smells of land, encountered some ninety miles out from the Coast of Victoria, were a welcome tonic to flagging spirits. When the Suffolk entered Port Philip Bay, those on board saw Melbourne only as a hazy jumble of shapes in the distance. The forest of masts in the foreground were clustered around the 2 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

maritime villages of Sandridge and Williamstown, which lay some fifteen minutes by train from the central city. Between them they handled all the passengers and cargo destined for the colony’s capital. The Suffolk was assigned to Sandridge (now Port Melbourne), but such was the density of shipping that she had to lie at anchor for some time, waiting for a berth at a dock to become free. The passengers were taken off in small boats, but not until the following Monday was the Suffolk herself piloted alongside the Railway Pier to begin unloading her cargo. The arrival of a ship from England was no longer a novelty to the people of Melbourne, but it was still a matter of great importance. Reliable telegraph links between the Australian continent and the outside world had yet to be established, so ships from Europe and America were the colonists’main source of information about events happening elsewhere. The proprietors of Melbourne’s daily newspapers always sent reporters to meet incoming vessels. Their first task was to check through the overseas mail and make sure that any major news stories reached the presses as quickly as possible. They also interviewed the captains of larger ships to get an account of their voyage and details of any interesting passengers or cargo. A sharp-eyed reporter writing in a Melbourne daily, the Argus, on June 8, 1870, noticed that the Suffolk’s cargo included “a fine vixen,” which was certain to be “of great interest to the areas s hunt clubs.” He also saw, on the list of fourteen first-class cabin passengers,

the name of Mr.G.B.Allen, and we understand that this eminent composer intends remaining for a time in Melbourne for professional purposes, principally as a teacher of singing, in which branch of musical art he has achieved much success…. Mr.Allen’s ballad “Who Can Tell” happens just now to be one of the most popular ones in Melbourne, and many of his anthems are sung in our churches. It is stated that he intends to produce his opera “Castle Grim,” which was performed for 40 consecutive nights in London, as an opera da camera.

The news that a musical celebrity from London had arrived on the Suffolk appeared in several other Melbourne newspapers and journals over the next few days. Some reporters also mentioned that Mr. Allen was accompanied by his wife, but beyond the fact that she was a singer known as Alice May, none of them could offer ALICE MAY 3

any further information about her. This did not stop them from dutifully expressing confidence that she would be an asset to the musical life of the community. The ignorance about Alice May’s origins and early career shown by Melbourne’s newspaper columnists in 1870 has not been dispelled by the passage of time. No convincing evidence as to her real identity has ever been found; nor have any letters, diaries, or other personal documents come to light. Despite the best efforts of genealogists and historians, her life before she sailed on the Suffolk has remained largely a mystery. What can be stated with near certainty is that she was not—either then or at any time in the future—Mrs. G.B.Allen. Exhaustive searches in England and in every other country where the couple lived and worked have revealed no trace of a marriage. De facto liaisons were so common in the world of the nineteenth-century theatre that they were seldom remarked upon. Alice and Allen arrived in Melbourne calling themselves man and wife and this status was accepted at face value. If some later suspected that it was not the truth, no hint of doubt was ever expressed in the colonial or the British press. The social codes of the day ensured that a discreet silence was almost always maintained concerning what were euphemistically termed “theatrical marriages.” Just two articles containing references to Alice s early years were published during her lifetime. The first was in the May 15, 1875, issue of the Australasian Sketcher, published in Melbourne. The second appeared in the London periodical the Illustrated Sporting and Dramatic News for October 20, 1877, and was subsequently reprinted in other publications. A few additional snippets of biographical material surfaced in the obituaries and tributes published after her untimely death in 1887.All these sources have to be treated with caution. Nineteenth-century performers were notorious for fictionalizing aspects of their biographies to make themselves appear younger, better born, more interesting, or more successful than they actually were. The phrase “gilding the lily” could have been invented to describe much of what was printed in supposedly factual articles about the stage stars of the day. All the existing sources of information about Alice s early life agree that she came from the English county of Yorkshire, although no specific town is mentioned. She was probably born around 1847; this conjecture is based primarily on reports that she was forty years old at the time of her death. Birth dates have 4 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

Alice May, pictured shortly after her arrival in Melbourne in 1870. Courtesy La Trobe Picture Collection, State Library of Victoria.

always been a remarkably elastic commodity in theatrical circles, especially among prima donnas, but further evidence in favor of 1847 can be found on the Suffolk’s passenger list which states that she was twenty-two at the time of embarkation. Because she was so much younger than Allen (who passed himself off as thirty-eight but was actually a decade older), she would have had little reason to understate her age when she boarded the ship. Assuming that ALICE MAY 5

she did not turn twenty-three until after the Suffolk sailed, she must have been born sometime between the beginning of March and the end of December 1847. Extensive genealogical sleuthing has failed to locate an Alice May born in Yorkshire around this period. This raises the possibility that May was not her original surname. It was, however, a name well known in musical and theatrical circles. The costume designer Mrs. May, theatrical goods suppliers Samuel May & Son, and the musical instrument sellers Munro & May were all prominent in London at the time. None of them has so far revealed Yorkshire associations or a family member named Alice. Could she have called herself May for stage purposes, simply because the name was a well-respected one in the profession? If so, then there would be no way of tracing her in the records without some clue as to her real surname. The other biographical details contained in the two articles published during her lifetime have provided little help in solving the mystery of her birth and upbringing. According to the 1877 article in the Illustrated Sporting and Dramatic News,Alice “was a member of a remarkably musical family, related to the late Cipriani Potter.” Assuming that May was her real rather than her stage name, there was a “remarkably musical family” called May that could fit the bill, although it was almost entirely London- based. Its most distinguished representative was Edward Collett May, a composer, organist, and singing teacher of great repute. His daughter, Florence, was a popular concert pianist, and several other members of his extended family were professional musicians. He had paternal relatives in Yorkshire, but combing through his family tree has not yet revealed a likely Alice. Nevertheless, the possibility that she was a distant relation cannot be dismissed out of hand. In his youth, Edward Collett May had been one of the favorite pupils of the noted English composer Cipriani Potter, and the two remained close until Potter’s death in 1871. All genealogists can quote instances where longstanding friends of a family have been assumed, mistakenly, to be relatives. Potter was a lovable, generous man: the very epitome of an unofficial uncle. He had studied in Vienna in his youth and become friendly with Beethoven. His cleverer pupils, who included the young , believed that his musical thinking had remained firmly rooted in the Beethoven era ever since, but they could not help liking him despite this failing. He was a prodigious composer of instrumental and orchestral music and an influential 6 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

teacher during his reign as principal of London’s Royal Academy of Music (1832–59). Attempts to trace a possible Alice among the members of the Potter clan have been as unavailing as the efforts to link her with the family of Edward Collett May. Unless some new and more productive evidence comes to light, her early origins seem destined to remain a mystery. According to the article in the Australasian Sketcher, Alice was musically inclined from infancy and “when quite a girl was sent to study the elocution of the lyric art under Mrs Wood.” All British and American opera lovers of the time would have heard of the Scottish-born soprano Mrs. Wood, or Mary Anne Paton as she was known before her marriage to the tenor Joseph Wood. She had been a favorite with the public from the moment she made her debut as Susanna in Mozart’s Il nozze di Figaro in 1822. In 1824 she sang Agathe in the first English production of Der Freischütz and two years later created the role of Rezia in Oberon, an opera Carl Maria von Weber wrote specifically for Covent Garden. Wood’s singing was widely praised for its sweetness, brilliance, and power. During her illustrious career, she and her husband made two acclaimed tours of the United States and there were many American critics who considered her the finest singer of her day. Joseph Wood was a good performer but a better businessman. He invested his wife’s considerable earnings so prudently that the couple were able to buy a country estate at Chapelthorpe, near Wakefield in Yorkshire, where they retired to live comfortably in 1843. Mrs. Wood taught singing in the area for many years, first in Wakefield and then in the nearby city of Leeds. She relinquished this activity only about twelve months before her death in July 1864. If Alice did study with Mrs. Wood in her youth, it implies that her home was somewhere in the vicinity of Wakefield or Leeds and that her family was of reasonable wealth and sta- tus. Only the more affluent classes could afford to have their daughters taught such accomplishments as singing. It also suggests that she was particularly talented. Wood taught from interest rather than necessity and could pick and choose her students. The Australasian Sketcher article mentions that Alice “frequently sang en amateur at concerts.” Wood’s obituaries record the names of three of her best pupils, Misses Dobson, Milner, and Pilling, all of whom were already appearing regularly on the concert platform. Years later Alice would briefly star in the same company as the most talented of this trio, Annie Milner. In 1864 she was ALICE MAY 7

presumably too young for her singing to have attracted public attention. Her early years remain stubbornly, frustratingly elusive. The shadows of speculation only begin to lift after she comes into contact with G.B.Allen. By contrast, Allen s life and career before his arrival in Melbourne can easily be documented. George Benjamin Allen was born in London on April 21, 1822. His family lived in Long Acre, the broad street that connects Leicester Square with Covent Garden, and his father was a metal chaser, a skilled artisan who specialized in the decorative metal work that adorned horse-drawn carriages. Allen rose above his parents in social status, thanks to his superior singing voice. It took him first into the choir of the local parish church, St.Martin-in-the-Fields, and then to Westminster Abbey, where he became a chorister in Easter 1834. His Westminster Abbey training gave him not only the skills to earn his living as a musician but also the chance to receive the kind of education usually reserved for the sons of professional men such as doctors and lawyers. When Allen married, however, he chose a girl from his parents’ class, probably the daughter of a family friend. Ann Carter also came from Long Acre and her father was described on the marriage certificate as a “coach ironmonger.” The wedding took place on October 2, 1843, and the young couple left immediately for Ireland, where Allen had obtained musical employment at Armagh’s Protestant cathedral. He would remain there for twenty years. Allen’s duties included singing for services and helping run the choir school. Although nominally a bass, according to the cathedral archives he generally sang alto and was regarded as having an exceptionally fine voice. He was also very energetic. In his spare time he wrote musical articles for the local Armagh Guardian, traveled regularly to Belfast to conduct the Classical Harmonists, the only major choral society in the area, and began to gain recognition as a composer. His part-songs, ballads, and church music soon found favor with London publishers, and some of his smaller works, for example his four-part song “I Love My Love in the Morning” (1857), became very popular with the public. One of his earliest published songs commemorated the birth of his daughter, Adeline, in 1854. She was one of six children known to have been born to Allen and his wife during their first decade in Ireland. Allen’s talent for composition lifted him permanently from the ranks of the skilled working class. On November 25, 1852, he was 8 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

granted a bachelor’s degree in music, called a Mus. Bac. (short for Musicae Baccalaureus) by Oxford University. At this time it was not necessary to attend the university in order to gain a degree. In the case of the Mus. Bac., candidates had to submit a composition in at least four parts with organ accompaniment, or in not more than five parts if with strings. In addition, they had to produce a certificate showing they had been involved in the study and practice of music for at least seven years. If the composition was deemed worthy they were granted matriculation, that is, admission to the university. They could then proceed directly to the final examination, which involved a viva voce, written tests, and a performance of the submitted composition. All this could be done on a brief visit to Oxford. There was a gap of just two days between Allen’s matriculation and the conferring of his degree. Allen was so proud of his achievement that he obtained special permission from the archbishop of Armagh to wear his academic hood during cathedral services. When he subsequently entered the world of the theatre he routinely put the rubric ‘Mus. Bac.’ after his name in advertisements. However ridiculous this might appear today, it was readily understandable in context. For a young man from an artisan family to graduate from Oxford University, one of the country’s great bastions of privilege, was a remarkable feat in class-ridden, mid-nineteenth century England. Early in 1855 Allen sent the American poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow a parcel containing musical settings of some of his verses. On October 15, Longfellow graciously replied that he had listened to these “with great satisfaction. They are full of beauty and sentiment, and you have succeeded wonderfully in translating my words into the universal language.” Much later, Allen told an interviewer for Table Talk that “such flattering praise from such a source made him desirous of returning to London.” If so, it took him nearly eight years to make the move. In December 1862 he visited the British capital to conduct his cantata Harvest Home at All Saints’ Church, Kensington. The work was performed again at St. James’s Hall in March 1863 and was favorably reviewed in Britain’s leading theatrical journal, the Era, which described the composer as “a Belfast professor.” The 1862 performance of Harvest Home could have been part of a selection process, because Allen was appointed organist of All Saints’in 1863. Because of boundary changes, All Saints’ now lies in the London borough of Notting Hill. Built in 1861, it was one of a number of new churches constructed to cater to the rapid increase in ALICE MAY 9

population that took place in the city during the second half of the nineteenth century. Allen’s duties as organist allowed him more freedom than he had enjoyed at Armagh and he threw himself into the musical life of London with vigor. At the age of forty-one he seemed determined to make up for the time and opportunities he had lost while working in a provincial backwater. He began teaching singing, became involved with a more distinguished fellow composer,Julius Benedict, in a scheme to create suburban musical academies, and increased his output of published works. Piano pieces, choral music, and, above all, songs flowed from his pen. Several of the latter were settings of verses by his godson,, a stage-struck young man who was unenthusiastically earning his living as a temporary clerk to the emigration commissioners at the Colonial Office. In 1865 Allen and Reece joined forces to write a , Castle Grim. The plot was little more than a peg on which to hang an endless supply of puns and bad jokes. It revolved around Charles Ravenswood, the castle s misanthropic owner, who has forbidden his servants to smile or enjoy themselves. Despite this, his valet,David Death, remains an irredeemably cheerful character who spends much of his time in ardent but unavailing pursuit of the housekeeper, Mrs.Tombs. In due course Ravenswood finds himself guardian to a lively seventeen-year old named Flora Skipley. She quickly shakes him out of his self-induced gloom. Tombs and Death agree to marry and Ravenswood succumbs to the fascinating wiles of Flora. The work was first performed at the New in Dean Street, off Oxford Street, on September 2, 1865. It was sandwiched between a farce called Poor Pillicoddy and a burlesque entitled Prince Amabel, as part of a generous triple bill inaugurating the theatre’s first season under the management of a popular star of the day,Fanny Reeves. She took the role of Mrs. Tombs, her husband,Elliot Galer, sang Ravenswood,Death was played by the comedian George Honey, and Flora by a talented young soprano,Susan Galton, who had made her debut just a year earlier but had already amassed considerable experience touring with the company run by her famous aunt, Louisa Pyne. The cast was good and the work achieved a fair success. Much of the credit was due to Allen. He conducted efficiently on his first venture into a theatre pit and his score attracted more favorable comment than Reece’s wafer-thin libretto. The Illustrated London News reported on September 9 that the music was “very pretty, the concerted 10 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

parts are good and the ballads excellent,” while the Era’s September 3 review praised the cleverly devised finales, especially that to the second act, which “contained a fresh, genial and refined piece of writing in the style of a madrigal.” This was “introduced with excellent judgment and was enthusiastically applauded.” Castle Grim did well enough to be retained in the repertoire until October 21, a respectable run by the standards of the time, but hardly long enough for the work to be considered a hit. Nevertheless, several numbers from the score found a market when published as individual songs, and Reece and Allen were sufficiently encouraged to try a second collaboration. Their one-act opera A Wild Cherry premiered in Reigate on September 2, 1867, and was briefly toured by the Louisa Pyne company. It roused no great enthusiasm and was quickly forgotten. Castle Grim retained its tenuous place in the history of the British musical theatre principally because it was Reece’s first stage credit. The experience helped set him on a new career path and within a few years he had become one of the country s busiest burlesque writers. The opera also had a significant effect on Allen’s future because it introduced him to a musical world far removed from that of teaching and the church, a world he seems to have found very much to his liking. At some time after Allen returned to London in 1863 his path crossed that of Alice. They probably first met in the late 1860s, because the earliest documented record of their association dates from 1869. All the available biographical sources agree that she went to him initially for singing lessons but—as the Australasian Sketcher delightfully put it—“their relations soon became of another kind.” When and why did Alice leave Yorkshire for London and why did she choose to study with Allen? The second question can be more easily answered than the first. By the late 1860s Allen was a teacher, accompanist, and composer of repute. The theatrical and musical papers of the day regularly reviewed his compositions and his most popular ballads were sung round many a parlor piano. He was lucky enough to have a staunch advocate in Louise Liebhart, a former opera singer who had appeared at the Vienna Hofoper (court opera) and Covent Garden before becoming a celebrated concert artist. She frequently included his songs in her programs and may even have studied with him briefly when she made her transition from the opera stage to the concert hall. Some of his other pupils were also well known in musical circles. Any talented amateur wanting singing lessons in London would have placed the name Allen high on her list of possible teachers. ALICE MAY 11

When and why Alice left Yorkshire has not been established. Perhaps her family moved south, or she could have come to London as a result of getting married. An article written by Mary Fiske, a personal friend of Alice s, published on August 20, 1887, in the “Giddy Gusher” column of the New York Dramatic Mirror said she was “the honored wife of a good man and the pride of a pleasant home” at the time she met Allen. Although Fiske had a penchant for overdramatizing events and situations, there seems no reason to disbelieve her claim that Alice was already married when she began her studies with Allen. No clues about her husband s identity or the date of the marriage have come to light, and attempts to trace him, on the basis of the assumption that his surname could have been May have proved fruitless. Alice’s emergence from the anonymity of her early years can be precisely dated. On the evening of July 28, 1869, a gentleman named J.Liley hosted a society salon concert at his residence in Canonbury, North London. The featured artist was a Viennese pianist, Constance Skiwa. Liebhart, the main vocal soloist, was accompanied by Allen and sang one of his songs, “Beware,” as an encore. Among the supporting artists listed in the only known review was “Miss A.May.” There was no mention of what she sang or how she performed but the reviewer in the Era on August 1 recorded, “The audience was very numerous and fashionable and, altogether, the concert was a most enjoyable one.” Alice could have sung at Liley’s salon concert in an amateur capacity, because talented amateurs often appeared alongside professionals at private performances of this kind. Her next appearance, however, was definitely a professional engagement. On Monday, August 16, 1869 she made her debut at the Hall-by-the- Sea, a relatively new and very popular entertainment venue in the seaside resort of Margate, in Kent. During the summer months, when Margate’s population swelled with holiday visitors from London and southeastern England, the Hall-by-the-Sea featured regular evening concerts, followed by light refreshments and dancing. They were well patronized because they were conducted in a freer, friendlier atmosphere than those at the rival assembly rooms. The proceedings were nonetheless highly respectable. Margate was a genteel town that did not tolerate public displays of bad behavior. The Hall’s proprietors prided themselves on the standard of entertainment they offered. Quality singers such as Liebhart and Madame Parepa (later the wife of the conductor and impresario 12 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

A concert in progress at the Hall-by-the-Sea,Margate,Kent, where Alice made her professional debut. This illustration originally appeared in Fun (July 28 1866). Courtesy Margate Library.

Carl Rosa) were frequent visitors. usually came for several weeks of the season, delighting patrons with his humorous monologues and imitations of well-known contemporary actors. A first-rate small orchestra contributed overtures and operatic selections to the concerts as well as music for the dancing afterward, and the supporting artists invariably included one or two promising debutants who came to Margate to gain experience and confidence before facing audiences in bigger, more demanding centers. Alice’s engagement was for two weeks. Appearing with her throughout her stay was a child pianist, Master G.F.Hatton, a violin virtuoso called Jona Griebe, who was described in advertisements as “solo violinist to the King of Holland and Professor at the Brussels Conservatoire,” and two other singers, Edward Murray, a baritone, and the delightful young soprano, Fanny Holland. Holland was already recognized as a rising star and attracted most of the reviewers’ attention. Before the end of 1869 she had progressed from performing at holiday resorts to a permanent position with the German Reed Company at the popular Gallery of Illustration in London, where she went on to create many new roles in works by leading British music-theatre composers. ALICE MAY 13

Alice was a novice by comparison with Holland, but she still received her fair share of praise. She was “loudly applauded” for the two ballads she sang at her debut, “Beryl” by Gabriel and Allen’s “When Roses Blow.” Toward the end of the program she and Murray combined in a duet, “Yet Once Again.”This was “performed in a very clever manner and ‘brought the house down in praise of their ability.” Alice may have sung elsewhere after finishing her stint in Margate at the end of August. The south coast resorts constituted almost a minitouring-circuit in their own right during the summer season and the names of those who appeared in Margate usually cropped up sooner or later in Brighton, Eastbourne, or any one of a dozen other seaside holiday towns. Unfortunately these venues were not regularly covered in the theatrical papers. Since Alice was a beginner rather than a star, the absence of references to her over the next few months does not necessarily indicate that she was not performing. But whether she was appearing in concerts or simply continuing her vocal studies, her personal relationship with Allen must have been progressing apace. Within a few months he had convinced her to embark with him on a great adventure to a country half a world away. The advertisement that changed both their lives appeared in the August 8, 1869, issue of the Era: “Wanted for MELBOURNE (Australia), an English Vocal Quartette, Soprano, , Tenor, and Bass. Good musicians and competent to sing Offenbach’s s music.” A week later a letter from the Era’s Melbourne correspondent explained that “Mr Lyster (of Lyster’s opera troupe)” was now

in London for the express purpose of engaging operatic talent for the Australias, and, judging from his well-known successes during the nine years he has catered for the Australian public, his mission will not be a barren one…. First-class talent will find this an excellent opportunity for their making acquaintance with Australian audiences.

By the Australias,” the Era’s correspondent did not mean the country known today as Australia. In the nineteenth century “Australia” referred to a loose grouping of individual British colonies, including Victoria, New South Wales, South Australia, and Queensland—all located on the continent of Australia—plus the island colonies of Tasmania and New Zealand. In the 14 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

nineteenth century they were often referred to collectively as “Australia,” “the Australias,” or sometimes “Australasia,” but everyone understood that these terms referred to a group of separate and independent states. Victoria was the richest of the Australian colonies and its capital, Melbourne, was the home of opera in the region. William Saurin Lyster, the impresario in search of artists “competent to sing Offenbach’s music,” was a charismatic Irishman who had been a soldier of fortune before turning to the stage. In 1858 he became the manager of his brother Fred’s New Orleans- based touring opera troupe. After recruiting some new singers, he took it to California and then, in 1861, to Melbourne, where a planned short visit turned into permanent residence. Lyster’s opera company traveled widely throughout Australasia, performing everything from Mozart to Meyerbeer for eager audiences in settlements large and small, often under the most adverse of conditions. In the process, he succeeded in establishing opera as a regular part of the colonial entertainment scene. In 1869 Lyster was an impresario temporarily without a company. His original troupe had broken up after an unsuccessful return to California and he had decided to put together a new one. A man of infinite courage and resourcefulness, with a flair for knowing what would go down well with the Australasian public, Lyster realized that the French style of comic opera known as opéra-bouffe was bound to overtake Italian opera in popularity. He hoped to find artists who not only could perform in English and Italian and but were equally adept at Offenbach or Verdi. A few weeks in London convinced him he would not find suitable singers there, particularly for the money he could offer. Friends told him he would fare no better in America. Revising his plans, Lyster decided that there was no future in trying to cover the entire range of operatic repertoire with a single company. His best option was to set up two troupes: one consisting mainly of Italian singers performing grand opera in their own language and the other presenting lighter works in English. Because he could find most of the artists he needed for an English company back in Melbourne, he set out for the Continent to recruit the nucleus of an Italian troupe. Allen later declared in an interview with Table Talk (November 18, 1887) that when he heard Lyster was in London, looking for “an opera company and conductor for Australia, the desire to see this much lauded country took such possession of his thoughts that ALICE MAY 15

he made up his mind to decide on visiting it, either with or without a[n] engagement.” The statement was typical of Allen. Lyster had not advertised for a conductor and the two men may not even have met to discuss the matter. But Lyster’s visit was undoubtedly the catalyst that prompted Allen to make a career change. It would be hard to move out of his recognized role as a teacher and church musician if he remained in London. A colonial opera company offered him the chance to step out of his niche and try his luck in the theatre well away from the critical gaze of those who knew him in a different musical capacity. Allen was always a seizer of opportunities. In this case he seems to have convinced himself that there would be an opening for him in Melbourne and set off, with characteristic impetuosity, to pursue it. What of Alice May? Why did she leave family, friends—and possibly husband—to sail for the colonies as the partner of a man more than twice her age? According to the Australasian Sketcher, “She was beginning to take a prominent position in public estimation at home, when her medical adviser, for the relief of an affection of the throat, counselled a visit to Australia. Mr and Mrs Allen accordingly, accepting this advice, left London.” People with health problems were often recommended to try the purer air and warmer climate of the Australian colonies, but there is no evidence that Alice suffered from a delicate constitution. Moreover, considering that she was not “Mrs. Allen” and had barely begun to make her way as a performer, the rest of the statement was patently untrue. A photograph of Allen taken soon after he arrived in Melbourne shows that he was not particularly handsome and looked every one of his forty-eight years. He appeared to be a better candidate for a father figure than a lover. The picture gives no hint of his great energy or of the easy manner that made him well liked by his fellow musicians. He was, by all accounts, a man of considerable charm with an almost youthful propensity for thinking up grand schemes and enough practicality to see most of them through. His departure for Melbourne did not estrange him from his family, as would surely have been the case if he had left his wife to run off with a younger woman. No death certificate has yet been found for Ann Allen, but it seems likely that Allen was a widower by 1869. He was free to form another relationship, even if Alice was not. A portrait of Alice, also made after her arrival in Melbourne, shows how very young she was. Glossy dark hair is piled upon her head, her eyebrows are arched and strongly marked, and her 16 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

features plumply rounded with just the hint of a dimpled chin. Her face shows amiability rather than strength of character. Perhaps she was a girl easily persuaded, one who began by respecting and admiring her teacher and ended up under his influence. Mary Fiske of the New York Dramatic Mirror certainly saw Allen as a Svengali-like figure. In an article for that newspaper written on August 20,1887, she described Alice as “the dupe of a designing man who took her from peace and plenty and planted her behind the footlights.” This might have been how an older Alice, in the embittered aftermath of a relationship gone sour, portrayed the situation. Maybe Allen did promise to make her a star, but that does not mean she was unwilling to fall in with his plans. Perhaps she wanted to pursue a career in the musical theatre. Many young singers who achieved success in amateur circles were seduced by the apparent glamour of the stage and were tempted to try their luck as professionals. Did Alice see it as a way of escaping the domestic drudgery that was the inevitable lot of most women at the time or did she simply have a compulsion to sing? In default of any evidence about her aspirations and intentions, her reasons for embarking on the Suffolk as Allen’s de facto wife must be added to the catalogue of mysteries that surround her early life. Chapter 2 Green Girl in a Golden Land

When Alice May and George Allen reached Melbourne in June 1870, they found themselves in a booming, bustling minimetropolis that was the economic hub not just of Victoria but of the surrounding colonies as well. The town s prosperity had golden foundations. In 1851 gold had been discovered in the Yarra River, just sixteen miles upstream from Melbourne. Within weeks a full- scale rush was under way. Soon fortune seekers began flooding in from all corners of the globe. Most paused only long enough to purchase tools and provisions before heading to the diggings, but a wiser few realized that money could be made by catering to the prospectors’ needs. As new settlements sprang up in Victoria’s hinterland in the wake of successive gold strikes, Melbourne businesses supplied them with all the necessities of life. The town grew fat on the profits of trade and its population soared from 77, 000 to nearly a quarter of a million in less than two decades. By 1870, wool production and wheat farming were beginning to rival gold in importance. The countryside around Melbourne was dotted with the newly built mansions of wealthy gentlemen farmers. Gold still played a vital role in the economic life of the colony, but as just another commodity to be processed and exported. Just the previous year, on the Dunolly goldfield, the wheel of a passing cart had unearthed what was reputedly the world’s largest nugget to date. Dubbed the “Welcome Stranger,” it weighed over 2,500 ounces and was of exceptional color and beauty. Despite its unique qualities, the commercially minded Victorians gave no thought to putting the nugget on display or preserving it 18 ADRIENNE SIMPSON for posterity. It was immediately melted down into ingots and dispatched to the world’s far distant financial markets. In Melbourne, sentiment always ran a poor second to business. For all Melbourne’s wealth, visitors tended to find the city unappealing at first glance. Low-lying, in an almost featureless landscape, it lacked the beautiful natural setting that made Sydney, capital of the neighboring colony of New South Wales, so picturesque. The town center was regimented into a grid pattern of wide intersecting avenues with deep gutters on either side, spanned at intervals by small wooden bridges. Because there was no underground drainage system, storm water and sewage roared down the gutters in wet weather and the only way of crossing the streets safely was by means of these bridges. On closer inspection Melbourne made a more favorable impression. The rawness of its recent expansion was softened by several pretty public gardens. Most of the amenities of a big city were already established. There were law courts, a museum, university, public library, and a town hall with a first-class pipe organ on which regular organ recitals were given. Superficially, life in Victoria’s capital seemed to mirror that of an English provincial city. Yet newcomers soon noticed differences. Because land was plentiful, builders and architects chose to spread outward rather than upward. Few buildings in central Melbourne were more than two stories high. The suburbs surrounding the town and linked to it by rail were laid out on spacious lines. Even the tiniest cottage seemed to have its own small piece of land for growing vegetables or running a couple of hens. There were no grim slum tenements, few obvious signs of poverty, and the fresh air and abundance of cheap, locally produced food bred a healthier population. Perhaps the biggest contrast of all was in social attitudes. Melbourne society was markedly more democratic and egalitarian than that of any British city. The town was full of self-made men, most of them fiercely proud of having risen from humble origins to positions of wealth and influence. An example sure to have impressed Allen was that of George Coppin. Once a minor actor and singer on the British provincial circuit, Coppin had become, through hard work and the occasional unscrupulous deal, a major entrepreneur who owned several Melbourne theatres and hotels and who had been until recently an elected member of the colony’s ruling body, the Victorian Legislative Council. Few performers had the drive to emulate Coppin, but those with more modest ALICE MAY 19

ambitions still found plenty of opportunities for advancement. The people of Melbourne loved all kinds of entertainment and had the money and leisure to patronize it. At the height of the gold-rush period many leading British and American performers had been prepared to risk the long, dangerous journey to the colonies because the financial rewards made it worth their while. By 1870, improved theatrical circumstances in both countries meant that major stars had little need to venture so far afield. Instead, lesser artists, who were prepared to work hard and study public taste, found they could aspire to positions of importance in the musical and theatrical life of the colonies that they would never have achieved at home. It was a situation tailor-made for an energetic opportunist like Allen and he lost no time in making his presence felt. The Suffolk arrived on Saturday, June 4. By the following Friday Allen had placed advertisements in Melbourne’s daily newspapers announcing that he was “prepared to receive a limited number of pupils for the cultivation and development of the voice.” Also, he quickly arranged for him and Alice to take part in the first of a series of concerts planned by Robert Heller, a showman who combined a talent for flashy piano playing with a rather more successful career as a professional magician. Curiosity about the new arrivals drew a sizable audience to the Princess’s Theatre on Saturday, June 18, 1870. Allen’s reputation was sufficient to ensure him a welcome. He received favorable reviews, both as a composer and accompanist. Alice’s contributions to the concert were the lively drinking song “Il segreto,” from Donizetti’s opera Lucrezia Borgia, and two ballads, including Allen’s own “‘Twas Long, Long Since in the Springtime.” She also took part in two duets. Writing on June 20, the critic of the Argus reacted with qualified approval:

Mrs. Allen possesses a high mezzo-soprano voice, which she uses with considerable facility. Her upper notes seemed, perhaps through nervousness, a little harsh, and her low ones were not so full and round as could have been desired, her power evidently lying in her middle register, the notes of which are exceedingly sweet and clear. She also sings with intelligence, and has a very distinct articulation. With these advantages, and a pleasant manner and engaging appearance, 20 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

she will undoubtedly soon establish herself a favorite with the Melbourne public.

Other reviewers were in broad agreement. Alice had a promising voice and a sympathetic way with a ballad but was all too obviously a novice in operatic repertoire and needed to conquer her nerves if she was to fulfill her potential. After one more concert appearance, Alice disappeared from public view. She was not yet ready to be launched upon the full-time professional stage. For the next few months, while Alice (presumably) honed her technique and enlarged her repertoire, Allen kept himself busy with singing pupils and a temporary job as organist and choirmaster at St. John’s Church in the fashionable suburb of Toorak. He was biding his time until Lyster returned to Melbourne. To Allen’s great good fortune, the impresario came home undeterred by his failure to recruit suitable performers in London. Lyster was still convinced that creating two specialized troupes, one for Italian and the other for English opera, was the best way to ensure the future profitability of his operatic ventures. He already had an experienced conductor available for the Italian repertoire but was happy to offer Allen the musical directorship of his fledgling English company. Lyster’s new strategy was based on an astute reading of the changing entertainment market. His own preference was for Italian opera. He had managed to secure some good-quality Italian singers on his trip to Europe and would soon acquire more by combining his forces with those of two Italian impresarios, Augusto Cagli and Giovanni Pompei, who were bringing opera troupes to Melbourne from Calcutta and Batavia (present-day Jakarta) respectively. A strong Italian company would continue to attract audiences from the intellectual and professional elite, but Lyster was well aware that many of his potential patrons were now young and colonial-born, without any nostalgic attachment to this type of music theatre. They preferred lighter, more modern works, in their own language. English versions of opéras-bouffes by and his contemporaries were all the rage in Europe and America. These, along with genuinely English works such as Vincent Wallace’s Maritana and a few stock favorites such as Weber’s Der Freischütz and Bellini’s La Sonnambula, which had usually been sung in English in the colonies, would become his bread and butter. ALICE MAY 21

George Benjamin Allen, photographed shortly after his arrival in Melbourne in 1870. Courtesy La Trobe Picture Collection, State Library of Victoria.

Lyster already had the nucleus of a useful English opera company. It included his wife, Georgia Hodson, a lively mezzosoprano with a wide vocal range and a talent for trouser roles, and an effective buffo bass, James Kitts, who had been with him since the 1860s and often doubled as his business manager. Edward Farley, a bass recently promoted from the chorus, was a gifted comic singer who looked to have a bright future. Other 22 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

comedy parts could be handled by the multitalented Charles Lascelles, who had come to the colonies in 1868 as a supporting artist to the famous English soprano Anna Bishop. Lascelles played the piano as effectively as he sang and usually helped out in the orchestra pit when notrequired onstage. The English company s leading tenor would be Armes Beaumont, a singer of rare intelligence and subtlety who excelled in all forms of opera and was much loved for his kindly and considerate nature. Many believed that Beaumont could have had an international career if a shooting accident had not left him blind in one eye and with only peripheral vision in the other. Although his poor sight had little effect on the quality of his performances, it was probably the reason why he never performed outside Australasia. Beaumont’s sister, Mrs.Fox, was a reliable soprano who was technically capable of filling principal roles but was so lacking in onstage personality that a local critic once described her as the least romantic Maritana he had ever seen. She was certainly not an exciting enough artist to build a company around. As prima donna for his first venture into opéra-bouffe Lyster opted for Fanny Simonsen, a piquant, Parisian-trained soprano with a bright, flexible voice and a charming stage presence, who had been a favorite artist ever since her arrival in Melbourne two years earlier. Lyster’s Royal English Opera Company, conductor G.B.Allen, began its inaugural season at the Princess’s Theatre, Melbourne, on February 27, 1871, with the Australian premiere of Offenbach’s La Grande-Duchesse de Gérolstein. This smart satire about the ruler of a Ruritanian duchy who wreaks comic havoc when her roving eye lights on a handsome army recruit was just the piece to woo new audiences. Despite substandard costumes, an orchestra with too few instrumentalists, and a cast not yet adept at putting over spoken dialogue, the production was surprisingly successful with the public. It ran for over two weeks, an exceptional length of time by colonial standards, and was brought back for a further eight performances later in the season. Over the next few years Lyster’s decision to embrace opéra- bouffe was vindicated time and again, as the English company subsidized his Italian company s more critically acclaimed ventures. For the moment, however, he had a problem. Fanny Simonsen had decided to return to Europe at the end of the Melbourne season and Lyster desperately needed to find a singer who could replace her on the company’s forthcoming country tour. ALICE MAY 23

The interior of the Princess’s Theatre, Melbourne, where Alice May made her stage debut. This illustration originally appeared in the Illustrated Melbourne Post, November 25, 1865. Author’s collection.

His decision to try Alice as a potential prima donna was a calculated gamble. Although she had no theatrical experience, she was at least a well-schooled singer who had done reasonably well in her concert appearances the previous year. If she failed, he would be no worse off than before. How much influence Allen had on Lyster’s decision is unknown, but it seems more than likely that he had been grooming his protégée with just such an opportunity in mind. Alice May made her stage debut on Monday, May 1, 1871, during the last week of the English company’s Melbourne season. The role selected for her was that of Marie, the Daughter of the Regiment in Donizetti’s sparkling opera La Fille du Régiment, about a foundling raised by a troupe of soldiers. It was not the easiest choice for a novice. Marie’s music is technically challenging and the part required a singer with enough spirit and vivacity to be convincing as a feisty little soldier-girl. Onstage vivacity, however, turned out to be one of Alice’s strengths. Throughout her career she would be criticized for her tendency toward overexuberance, but in the role of Marie a touch of the hoyden was absolutely 24 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

right. The critics were enchanted. Her voice was better controlled than it had been the year before, and all signs of nervousness vanished the moment she began interacting with other performers. “Miss Alice May is an acquisition to our stage,” declared the Argus. “Her singing was such as to make a large audience enthusiastic, and consequently each piece was received with fervor, while encores, recalls, and numerous bouquets became the commonplace incidents of the night’s performance.” Lyster’s Royal English Opera Company ended its Melbourne season on May 6, 1871. By then, Alice had appeared twice more in The Daughter of the Regiment, each time reinforcing the excellent impression she had made in her debut. It was now the Italian company’s turn to entertain Melbourne’s operagoers. Beginning in August, the English company, with Alice as leading lady and Allen as conductor, toured the small towns of inland Victoria. After a brief return to Melbourne it went on to leafy, conservative Adelaide, the capital of South Australia, and from there to the small island colony of Tasmania. After nearly eight months on the road, the company ended its travels by making another sweep round the country areas of Victoria during January and February 1872. The visit to the prosperous goldfields town of Ballarat, on August 7–23, 1871, was typical of the tour. Because Ballarat did not have a large enough population to sustain several repetitions of the same piece, the company began by playing a different work every night. La GrandeDuchesse de Gérolstein proved an ideal opening attraction because local theatregoers were agog to see the show that had created such a stir in Melbourne. Another Ballarat premiere, Michael Balfe’s Satanella, was succeeded by the same composer s best-known work, The Bohemian Girl. Then followed Weber’s Der Freischütz—always a hit if the special effects that accompanied the casting of the magic bullets in the “Wolf’s Glen” scene were thrilling enough—and Wallace’s ever-popular Maritana. These four operas were repeated, after which The Daughter of the Regiment was introduced on August 17. This drew the best house of the season. As the season neared its end the company’s two stars, Alice May and Armes Beaumont, were rewarded with benefits, special performances where the net profits of the evening were handed over to a designated person or organization or to the performers themselves. Benefits were a regular feature of the nineteenth- century stage. In a profession that offered little security and no pension, successful benefits allowed performers to accumulate ALICE MAY 25

some money to tide them over between engage ments or put aside as a nest egg for the future. At Alice s benefit, on August 21, 1871, Satanella and the last act of La Grande-Duchesse were performed; Beaumont’s benefit featured Maritana plus a concert of ballads and comic songs. The company ended its visit with a monster bill of The Daughter of the Regiment, The Rose of Auvergne—an H.B.Farnie English adaptation of Offenbach’s s one-act La rose de Saint-Flour, advertised as being given for the first time in Australia—and the “Wolf’s s Glen” scene from Der Freischütz, which was presented with as many magnesium flares and exploding fireworks as the Ballarat fire department allowed. During their stay in the town, the company members worked hard to ingratiate themselves with the local community. Two teams from the troupe took part in a rowing race for charity and several singers visited the invalid asylum one afternoon to entertain the elderly patients. The Ballarat Courier of August 11, 1872, reported that performing to an audience of frail old people reduced Alice almost to tears. Her tenderheartedness was considered very creditable. In fact, the Courier was delighted with everything she did. She was a “bewitching” Grand Duchess, suitably “brilliant” in Satanella’s florid music, and in Agathe’s “Softly Sighs” from Der Freischütz her singing and acting “Were both wonderfully artistic and expressive.” Given the string of favorable notices she received in Ballarat, it was little wonder that her benefit performance attracted a crowded house. Although Alice s workload during the course of the tour was no heavier than that of any other traveling-company prima donna, it was very taxing for someone so inexperienced. She sang the lead soprano roles in all except three of the operas presented and her repertoire grew larger as the weeks went by. During the company’s stay in Adelaide she made a rather underrehearsed debut as Elvira in Balfe’s The Rose of Castille, and in the Tasmanian capital of Hobart she sang Amina in Bellini’s La Sonnambula and Zerline in ’s sparkling Fra Diavolo for the first time. She was favorably reviewed in both these roles, but her biggest success in Hobart came when she sang the soprano solos in Handel’s Messiah on New Year’s Day, 1872. Life for a touring performer was hard. It took stamina to cope with constant traveling, inadequate theatre facilities, and the wearying necessity of playing a different work almost every night. Fortunately, Alice and Allen turned out to be good tourers. He was an excellent practical musician. The way he controlled his small 26 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

group of instrumentalists was praised even by critics who complained about their meager numbers, and he successfully molded the chorus, the Achilles heel of many traveling troupes, into an efficient unit. Alice was a robust, goodhearted, gregarious young woman who got on well with her fellow artists. She was a willing worker, always eager to learn, and seemingly without a mean or jealous bone in her body. At this stage of her career she was probably too green to realize how lucky she was to be employed by Lyster, who was more considerate of his artists and less inclined to exploit them than some of the impresarios she would encounter later. However, she must have known how much she owed to her leading man. She and Beaumont quickly developed a good rapport onstage and his support undoubtedly helped her make a success of her first tour. Audiences and critics liked Alice May. She was plumply pretty, in the approved style of the day, and had the trim figure and good legs so essential for many opera bouffe roles. She clearly enjoyed being onstage and had the priceless gift of being able to communicate that enjoyment across the footlights. As a later commentator for the Australasian Sketcher put it, “She is the very type of vivacity, liveliness and jauntiness…. She sings as if it made her happy to sing, and her acting always conveys the notion of cheerfulness and brightness.” The generally lower range of opéra- bouffe suited her big, strong voice best, but youthful imprudence enabled her to get away with higher-pitched roles, such as Marie or Satanella. In the latter, she caught the impetuosity and passion of the character so well that her imperfections in the more florid musical numbers were readily forgiven. Her main fault was a tendency to overemphasize words or phrases. This, as several reviewers remarked, was surely the result of inexperience. With hard work and continued improvement, she had the potential to reach the top of her profession. For the moment, however, her challenge was to captivate audiences in critical, cosmopolitan Melbourne as completely as she had those in smaller centers. Lyster gave his English troupe little time to rest after their long tour. In late February he briefly loaned out some of them, including Alice and Allen, to Agatha States, a visiting American soprano who wanted to present a handful of semistaged operatic performances in and around Melbourne. By Easter Lyster was ready to mount his next opéra-bouffe season at Melbourne’s Princess’s Theatre. To help realize his more than usually ambitious plans he joined forces with two other important ALICE MAY 27

members of the Australasian theatrical profession, the scenic artist John Hennings and an actor-singer named Richard Stewart. The trio’s success was assured before the season even started. On March 20, 1872, the Royal, the only theater likely to provide them with stiff competition, burned to the ground. When Lyster and his colleagues launched the Australasian premiere of Offenbach’s Orphée aux enfers ten days later, it was the only major show in town and audiences flocked to see it. Their first impressions were probably of the magnificent stage spectacle. No expense had been spared on the costumes, and Hennings’s scenery was some of the finest ever seen in the colony.The transparencies he painted for the act that is set in Hades were combined with such clever lighting and pyrotechnic effects that they immediately became the talk of Melbourne. Those already familiar with the music were startled to hear proceedings begin with Beethoven’s Egmont Overture, thrown in to extend what would otherwise be a rather short evening. With an orchestra numbering just fourteen players, even Allen’s best endeavors could not bring this off successfully. Offenbach’s music, however, fared well enough despite being cut down and rescored to suit the available resources. The cast was a mixture of actors and singers. Lascelles played the title role, Hodson was in splendid form as Public Opinion, and Beaumont appeared as Pluto. One of Melbourne’s rising stars of melodrama, Hattie Shepparde, made a lively Juno. Alice’s Eurydice met with general approval, although the Argus, on April 2, suggested that she could make her performance better by “rigidly curbing her propensity to over-demonstrativeness.” Stewart took on the role of Jupiter. His lack of voice scarcely mattered because his comic timing and witty way with dialogue carried the day. T.H.Rainford, a cavernous bass whose acting a later reviewer unkindly likened to that of “an animated walking stick,” scored the only encore of the evening with John Styx’s song “When I was Monarch of Beotia.” Orphée ran for twelve nights. It was taken off while still at the height of its popularity, only to be brought back twice during an interim period of rapidly changing repertoire that also included Fra Diavolo, La Grande-Duchesse de Gérolstein, and Der Freischütz. “On each of these occasions,” wrote James Edward Neild, Melbourne s most trenchant critic, in the Australasian of April 20, 1872, “fresh evidence was afforded of the increasing 28 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

Alice May’s first leading man, Armes Beaumont. Courtesy Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales. power possessed by Miss May as a capable actress in addition to her capability as a most charming singer.” ALICE MAY 29

Considering that it has been but quite recently Miss May commenced her stage experiences, her progress has been very marked indeed. She has no doubt discovered the arduous nature of the duties which she has entered, and the severe application needed to ensure even a qualified success but it is very clear she is making the most praiseworthy efforts to overcome the difficulties which of necessity accompany the beginnings of all really important undertakings…. Miss May is to be congratulated on what she has already accomplished; and as her stage life dates from this city it is very natural that more than ordinary interest should be attached to her progress.

On April 23, 1872, Lyster and his colleagues presented their second Offenbach premiere, Barbe-bleue, a hilarious medieval romp in which the original gruesome legend of Bluebeard was thoroughly burlesqued and Bluebeard’s previous wives turned out to be hidden away, rather than dead. The taxing title role was a triumph for Beaumont, who drew roars of laughter when he entered sporting an unlikely-looking ultramarine beard. Few theatregoers had considered that dancing might be among his talents, nor had they ever heard him deliver such torrents of words so rapidly and intelligibly. He was admirably backed up by Stewart as the jealous King Bobèche and Rainford as Popolani. Lyster’s version was based on a production that had been staged in London in 1869. Many of those performances featured the ample charms of Emily Soldene in the central female role of Boulotte. In Melbourne, Soldene’s s part fell to Alice. Nothing could have better suited her talents. She made a tremendous hit as the hearty country girl who comprehensively outwits Bluebeard and organizes the revenge of the discarded wives. The hard-to-please Neild, writing in the Australasian, said she threw such “an amount of rollicking vivacity and humor” into her acting and singing that her Boulotte was “simply wonderful. It makes one understand the meaning of abandon—a term used too often without good reason.” Of the two Offenbach works, the Melbourne Argus critic preferred the elegance and wit of Orphée aux enfers, but conceded that Barbe-bleue was “much more likely to be profitable to the management because it is full of the wildest fun.” And so it proved to be. Barbe-bleue played to capacity houses for the rest of the English company s Melbourne season. Chapter 3 New Directions, New Roles

Lyster, Hennings, and Stewart finally rang down the curtain on their successful English and opéra-bouffe season on May 11, 1872. While Lyster’s Italian company settled into the Princess s Theatre for a three-month stint under Cagli’s management, Alice, Allen, and their colleagues in the English company were given a well- earned rest. Most of them had been performing almost nonstop for 15 imonths. When they reassembled, refreshed, in September, they sailed immediately for Sydney, the capital of the neighboring colony of New South Wales. Lyster had not taken a company there for some time, so he anticipated a profitable season. Instead, ill fortune dogged him from the start. The only theatre available was the Victoria, in the center of Sydney’s red-light district. This was an unattractive location for respectable patrons, especially those with young families, who found themselves jostled by pickpockets and pimps on their way to the theatre and elbow-to-elbow in the stalls with local prostitutes and their boozy clients. Attendance suffered as a result. The normally astute Lyster compounded his problems by joining forces with Cagli to give a season featuring both troupes. It was not just the relative merits of the two ensembles that caused comment. The contrast between grand opera one night and saucy comedy the next confused prospective patrons and had some critics dipping their pens in vitriol. A columnist in the weekly Town and Country Journal, writing on September 21, 1872, was so incensed at the juxtaposition of s L’Africaine and Offenbach’s Barbe-bleue that he described the combination as “an ALICE MAY 31

entente cordiale between the sublime and the ridiculous” in which “ good taste was sacrificed to popularity.” He did not think much of Barbe-bleue in any case, dismissing it as “very much inferior to other Offenbach works presented in Australia….The libretto— dialogue and songs—is the most ridiculous, vulgar trash ever penned, and the music keeps it company. There is scarcely a good air through the whole work.” Although other critics disputed whether Barbe-bleue could properly be described as “opera,” most accepted the piece as a slice of good fun with excellent audience appeal. They found it hard to judge Alice s vocal abilities on the basis of a role such as Boulotte, which made few demands on her musical skills, but they had nothing but praise for her acting. She was lively and expressive and had a flair for comedy that, according to the Sydney Mail of September 21, 1872, “kept the audience in roars of laughter.” The English works played during the combined season were Barbe-bleue, Orphée aux enfers—which was chiefly praised for its superb mounting—Satanella, Fra Diavolo, The Bohemian Girl, Maritana, and La Grande-Duchesse de Gérolstein. The only one of these in which Alice did not appear was Maritana, which Lyster used as a vehicle for trying out a variety of other sopranos. She made as favorable an impression in Sydney as she had in Melbourne and her value to the company was underlined when she came down with a severe cold and had to take a couple of nights off. With no one else capable of playing the role, Lyster was forced to postpone the season’s first performance of La Grande-Duchesse until she recovered. On November 4, 1872, the opera season was temporarily suspended and the combined forces of the Italian and English companies took part in a concert marking the establishment of a telegraphic link between the Australian colonies and the wider world. This was an event worth celebrating. Before the advent of the international telegraph, colonists had no quick way of knowing what was happening elsewhere. It could take three months or more for ships bearing news of important European events to reach Melbourne and Sydney. Constructing an overland telegraph line across the desert interior of the Australian continent and connecting it to the overseas cable had been such a Herculean task that the arrival of the first direct messages from Europe on October 22, 1872, seemed almost miraculous. International news could now be received within twenty-four hours, conquering time 32 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

William Saurin Lyster, as depicted in the Bulletin, June 12, 1880. Courtesy Alexander Turnbull Library, National Library of New Zealand. and distance and bringing the Australian colonies into the mainstream of current events. The concert honoring this historic occasion involved the leading soloists from both opera companies, an enlarged orchestra that included almost every professional instrumentalist in Sydney, and a chorus augmented by singers from local choral societies. As a spectacular finale, Alberto Zelman, the conductor of the Italian troupe, devised a “Grand International Fantasia” featuring “Rule ALICE MAY 33

Alice in costume for the title role in an 1874 production of Offenbach’s La Grande-Duchesse de Gérolstein. Courtesy Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales.

34 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

Britannia,” “Garibaldi’s Hymn,” “Watch on the Rhine,” “The Star- Spangled Banner” (with Alice as soloist), “The Marseillaise,” and “God Save the Queen.”This was accompanied by church bells, grand organ, orchestra, chorus, military band, and—as the advertisements proudly proclaimed—“artillery discharged by electricity.” The following day, Cagli and the Italian troupe set off for a tour of New Zealand, leaving Lyster and the English company to mount three more concerts in honor of the telegraph, plus some further weeks of opera. But what little sparkle the enterprise possessed speedily evaporated, as Sydneysiders’ thoughts turned to Christmas pantomimes rather than opera, even of the lightest kind. The season faded away in a sequence of poorly attended benefit performances, ending with one for Lyster himself on December 9, 1872. After this, the members of the company went their separate ways. Several, including Alice and Allen, decided to remain in Sydney for a few weeks. It was an attractive place to spend Christmas: longer established than Melbourne, more compact and homely and blessed with a harbor of such outstanding natural beauty that visitors could only marvel at the breathtaking views from the various vantage points around its coastline. Allen, however, had something more serious than sightseeing in mind. He was planning to go into management on his own account. In the middle of December, advertisements for “Miss May’s Gallery of Illustration” began appearing in Sydney newspapers. The original Gallery of Illustration was a London institution founded many years earlier by Thomas German Reed and his wife, for the purpose of playing drawing room to music lovers disinclined to risk their morals by setting foot in a regular theatre. The Reeds provided early opportunities for a number of English composers and librettists who later produced full-length works; notable among them were , Arthur Sullivan, , Alfred Cellier, and W.S.Gilbert. “Miss May’s Gallery of Illustration” was an imitation of the London original, probably devised to see whether Alice had become enough of a drawing card for a company to be built around her. It opened at Sydney s Masonic Hall on the evening of Boxing Day (the day after Christmas), 1872, with a program of three one-act operettas. Two were works of proven stature: Offenbach’s The Rose of Auvergne, featuring Alice as Fleurette, and the Arthur Sullivan and F.C.Burnand comedietta , in which Edward ALICE MAY 35

Farley played Cox and Howard Vernon, a clever actor-singer destined to become one of Australia’s great Gilbert and Sullivan interpreters, made a hit as Cox. The third item on the program was called The Belle of Woolloomooloo. Woolloomooloo was Sydney s earliest suburb and The Belle was an old burlesque given a local twist by a versifier with the splendid name of Grosvenor Bunster. Allen had composed and arranged the music for the confection, which starred Alice in the trouser role of Charlie, a young officer in love with Mary (played by a promising contralto, Florence Howe), daughter of the ill-natured keeper of the Kangaroo Inn. Critics did not think much of The Belle of Woolloomooloo. One even suggested that it could have been omitted without harming the evening s entertainment. The rest of the program was bright and lively enough to deserve a good audience. Unfortunately, with so many other attractions on offer during the holiday season, audiences turned out to be more appreciative than numerous. Allen soldiered on for a couple of weeks, ringing the changes by introducing a selection of Scottish songs to celebrate the new year. He tried taking the Gallery of Illustration to Bathurst and other small inland towns in New South Wales, but midsummer was not a good time for operatic entertainments and all the experiment proved was his own capacity for organizing a touring ensemble. Within a couple of months he had bowed to the inevitable. He, Alice, and the other performers made their way back to Melbourne and the greater security of the Lyster organization. On June 9, 1873, Lyster’s Royal English Opera Company began a new season that continued, with a brief interruption from the Italian company, until October 11. The majority of the singers were now familiar to Melbourne audiences. The one notable newcomer was Howard Vernon, who took the role of King Bobèche in the opening night performance of Barbe-bleue and immediately became a popular favorite. Lyster also tried out a new young tenor in the title role. This well-meant attempt to lessen Beaumont’s load ended in disaster when the novice succumbed to a combination of nerves and incompetence and had to be withdrawn after two disastrous performances that nearly wrecked the season before it was properly launched. Beaumont and Alice then set about restoring Melbourne s faith in the company by showing what an effective double act they had become. By the end of the first week the critic of the Argus described them as having had “an exhilarating effect on audiences.” 36 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

Lyster cannily waited until the English opera season was well advanced before playing his trump card, the Australasian premiere of Offenbach’s hilarious medieval parody, Geneviève de Brabant. From the moment it opened, on September 9, 1873, it was an immense hit. Lyster’s version had a text freely adapted from H.B.Farnie’s English libretto by Australia’s most prolific dramatist, Garnet Walch. It kept Farnie’s madcap mixture of characters from different historical periods but added lots of topical jokes for the benefit of the local audience. Extra songs by a variety of composers were interpolated for the leading singers, among them Allen’s charming lullaby, “Sleep On, Sleep On,” which was sung by Alice and favorably noticed by most reviewers. Lyster mounted the work as lavishly as he could afford. There was a rich variety of costumes, some impressive scenery, and many ingenious special features. The great scene at the end of act 1, where Charles Martel and his army set off on a visibly moving, steam-snorting train from a painted representation of Paris’s Gare du Nord, was regarded as one of the cleverest stage effects ever seen in Melbourne. Apart from another of Lyster’s new discoveries, Carrie Emanuel, who failed to catch the right spirit for the title role, the cast was considered to be of particularly high quality Beaumont made a predictably competent Duke Sifroy and Farley a strong Martel, while Lascelles was splendidly villainous as the archplotter, Golo. They were all upstaged, however, by Rainford and Vernon as the Gens d’armes. Their duet “We’re public guardians, bold but wary,” with its seemingly inexhaustible supply of comic verses, had audiences in gales of laughter and was soon being whistled and sung all over town. The whole work proved irresistible. Despite having “no plot to speak of” and music inferior to other Offenbach operas, the Argus on September 13, 1873, declared, “For pure nonsense this is probably the greatest success that has been yet achieved in Melbourne.” Geneviève de Brabant was Lyster’s golden goose for the 1873 season. It ran uninterrupted for fifteen nights, attracting packed houses every time. By the beginning of the second week, scores of hopeful patrons were being turned away at the doors. Alice’s performance in the plum role of the little pastry cook, Drogan, was a major factor in the work’s appeal. All the critics agreed that the part suited her admirably and her success was unequivocal. “She plays throughout with a genuine talent for burlesque,” noted the Argus. “Her appearance, when promoted from pastrycook to the Duke’s page, pleased the audience mightily.” ALICE MAY 37

Drogan was not Alice’s only new role during the season. She was equally well received when she appeared in Julius Benedict’s romantic grand opera The Lily of Killarney. Based on ’s sensation drama The Colleen Bawn, it told the story of Eily O’Connor, whose faithless husband attempted to have her murdered so that he could marry another woman. The opera had not been seen in Melbourne for eight years, so it attracted good crowds when the revival opened on July 23, 1873. It ran for several profitable days, keeping audiences on the edge of their seats with a spectacularly staged climax in which Howard Vernon, as the noble-spirited Myles-na-Coppaleen, appeared to dive headfirst into the water to rescue the drowning heroine. The role of Eily, with its sentimental, ballad-style airs, suited Alice’s voice to perfection. She acted the part naturally and without mannerisms and was rewarded with consistently favorable notices. There was equal enthusiasm when she tackled the much showier role of Cinderella for the first time on October 4,1873. This was not Rossini’s La Cenerentola as performed today, but a curious English adaptation by Michael Rophino Lacy known as Cinderella or the Little Glass Slipper, in which dialogue replaced recitative and the music was rearranged and supplemented with excerpts from three other Rossini works. It was the most frequently performed version of the opera in English-speaking countries during the nineteenth century. Cinderella’s largely mezzosoprano vocal line lay in the best register of Alice’s voice, and because the work had long been a favorite with colonial prima donnas, Melbourne audiences were able to appreciate how skillfully she played the role. The English opera season came to an end on October 11, after seven splendidly staged performances of Cinderella. If the theatre had not been booked by other attractions, the season could easily have been extended until the Italian company made its scheduled return the following month. Public enthusiasm for the English repertoire was far from exhausted, despite many deficiencies in the performances. Judged objectively, Lyster’s English company was very much a poor relation to his Italian one. It had meager orchestral and choral resources and lacked enough quality soloists. The Italian company’s brief midseason visit—arranged to give the English company time off to prepare the premiere of Geneviève de Brabant—had only highlighted the different standards of the two ensembles. Yet the English season was an undeniable success, a fact attributable to the public’s preference for lighter works and the drawing power of the few high-class performers who carried 38 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

most of the workload. Among them, Alice May featured prominently. The avalanche of floral tributes showered on her during her benefit on October 2 was proof of her popularity. Without her Lyster could not have mounted his English opera seasons at all. A commentator in the Illustrated Australian News described her as “the life and soul of English opera in this colony” (October 10, 1873). By now Alice had thirteen full-length roles to her credit. Drogan had been her biggest success during the 1873 season, but she was also considered particularly effective as Eily O’Connor and Boulotte and very satisfying in the roles of Satanella, the Grand Duchess, and Cinderella. Her Zerline in Fra Diavolo and Agathe in Der Freischütz were more than acceptable. The only role in which she did not seem to have progressed was the one in which she had made her original debut: Marie in The Daughter of the Regiment. Nevertheless, for a singer who had spent just two years on the professional musical stage, she was doing extremely well. Neild of the Australasian was quick to notice the progress she had made over the past few months.

Her recent provincial tour and the hard work that it involved have been of great value to her. Her voice has acquired a quality which, to some extent, was wanting last season. I mean sweetness of sound in the upper notes; it is also much more flexible, and she has it under better control than before…. Altogether Miss May is doing so well in her recent performances that she now has an assured place in the esteem of her audience. She still had some faults of manner, but it is evident that her stage experience is causing these to become less and less apparent.

The fault that worried Neild most was one that would continue to plague Alice throughout her career: a tendency to become overemphatic when straining for effect. Neild felt she would be a better artist if she could only stop trying so hard. Nevertheless, while attention was being lavished on Lyster’s new aspirants for stardom, Neild noted on July 26: “Miss Alice May has been doing with perfect goodwill the usual hard work of the first lady, who sings every night in the week if necessary.” She was more than capable in the roles that suited her, coped gracefully with those that did not, and strove all the time to improve her performances. ALICE MAY 39

Neild was not the only critic mystified by Lyster’s continuing quest for another prima donna when he already possessed a perfectly good one. During the season a succession of sopranos had been trotted out for public approval. Audiences accepted them in a spirit of goodwill but the critics were rarely as generous. Just two of the newcomers, Carrie Emanuel and Jeannie Winston, gave satisfaction, but only Winston, promoted from supporting roles at the end of the season, would have much of a career. She and Alice crossed paths again in the United States in the 1880s. It would be tempting to see Lyster’s enthusiasm for promoting new singers as an effort to relieve Alice’s heavy workload, but it was far more likely that he was frantically seeking an alternative prima donna because he suspected he might soon lose her services. Lyster was too astute not to have recognized Allen’s penchant for big ideas and ambitious plans. Now that Alice had matured into a singer fit to build an opera company around, he must have known Allen would want to make that company his own. His worst fears were soon realized. On October 11, 1873, Lyster disbanded his English troupe at the end of its Melbourne season. Within a few weeks Allen had put together a compact traveling troupe with himself as conductor-manager and Alice as leading lady. He christened it, unimaginatively, the Royal English Opera Company and announced that, after some shakedown performances in country areas, he would take it across the Tasman Sea for a major tour of the remote but wealthy colony of New Zealand. Chapter 4 Toast of the Antipodes

New Zealand was the third most important of the Australian colonies in economic terms. Theoretically, this made it a destination worth exploiting. In practice, few theatrical managers had so far succeeded in exploiting it profitably. There were special difficulties associated with touring the colony. Just getting there was an expensive undertaking. It was 1,400 miles, or six days by ship, from Melbourne to the nearest major New Zealand port. Although the colony’s two main islands constituted a land mass equal to that of England and Wales put together, the population was sparse and the main settlements widely scattered along a vast coastline. The only sensible way for a large group such as an opera company to travel between settlements was by sea, which meant braving treacherous coastal waters and sometimes inadequate harbor facilities in the tiny steamers that shuttled from port to port. Keeping to a schedule could be difficult. It was not uncommon for a theatrical season to start late because the company’s arrival had been delayed by adverse winds. At other times reviews were tempered with sympathy for performers who had landed only a few hours earlier, after a rough passage from their previous stopping place. The worst problem for touring companies was the colony’s lack of population. Towns were tiny by comparison with those on the Australian continent. Melbourne had 250,000 inhabitants; the two centers that vied for preeminence in New Zealand—brash, bustling Auckland in the North Island and the Scottish settlement of Dunedin in the South—struggled to reach 30,000. Lyster’s opera ALICE MAY 41

troupes regularly traveled continental Australia for a year at a time and could expect to enjoy three-month seasons in both Sydney and Melbourne. The average length of an opera tour in New Zealand was six months. Companies seldom remained more than four weeks in any town and in some places they stayed just a day or two before packing up and moving on. Frequent travel over long distances raised transport costs and made life harder for the performers. Already slender profit margins could be squeezed still further by imponderables such as bad weather. New Zealanders loved entertainment of all kinds, but when driving rain turned the colony’s dirt roads to quagmires or seeped through the chinks in its wooden-walled theatres, even the most enthusiastic patrons stayed at home. A few days of playing to empty benches were enough to tip many a touring company’s budget into the red. Given the difficulties, the most remarkable feature of the Allen tour was its duration. No traveling opera troupe before or since has spent so long in New Zealand. Allen’s Royal English Opera Company arrived in Dunedin on February 28, 1874, rehearsed for just over a week, gave its first performance on March 9, and then toured continuously until it left for Melbourne on March 3 the following year. During this time it made a complete circuit around the colony, visiting several places twice and the capital, Wellington, three times. It performed not only in the towns that had already experienced professional opera as a result of earlier tours by Lyster and Cagli—Invercargill, Dunedin, Christchurch, Timaru, and Nelson in the South Island and Wellington, Auckland, and Thames in the North—but made pioneering visits to three other centers: Oamaru, Wanganui, and Napier. To judge from newspaper reports, the company’s effect on the new venues was startling. It had such an overwhelming reception in Napier that the season was extended from twelve to nineteen performances (August 28 to September 18, 1874) and the town subsequently became a regular stopping place for touring troupes. In Oamaru and Wanganui, local newspapers saw the opera company’s visit as evidence of their increasing sophistication. It marked “another era in the rapid strides the town and district are making” and proved that the people of the area were no longer “mere hewers of wood and drawers of water,” declared the Wanganui Chronicle on October 20, 1874. Reviewers in all three centers noted that audiences were not made up solely of settlers renewing acquaintance with a type of entertainment they had enjoyed before migrating from Europe. Many people, particularly 42 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

the young, were seeing opera for the first time and were thoroughly enjoying the experience. The welcome the company received in Oamaru, Wanganui, and Napier underlined the other remarkable aspect of the tour: its success. Apart from modest patronage in Nelson, which was perhaps the most conservative settlement in the colony, and at the start of the first Dunedin season, when the ensemble was still shaking down, Allen’s Royal English Opera Company traveled New Zealand on a rising tide of public appreciation. Full houses and seasons extended “by popular demand” became commonplace. Subscription tickets were eagerly snapped up and in several centers special transport arrangements had to be made so that people from outlying areas could attend performances. The level of opera mania was sometimes extraordinary. At the Wellington premiere of Michael Balfe’s Satanella on June 8, 1874, prospective patrons besieged the theatre doors nearly two hours before the curtain went up and hundreds were turned away, unable to buy tickets. The company’s popularity was reflected in its profits. Though figures were never published, comments in the theatrical columns of colonial newspapers suggested that Allen had every reason to be satisfied with the results of his venture. Allen’s leadership was a significant factor in the company’s success. He was an efficient organizer who managed, most of the time, to get the best from his slender resources. The economies he made to ensure the company’s viability were practical and effective. Rather than carry large quantities of scenery from place to place, he hired the best scenic artist in New Zealand, J.S.Willis, to travel with the troupe and paint over or alter the stock backdrops available at each theatre. Instead of bringing an orchestra with him from Melbourne, he brought just a couple of key instrumentalists and hired and rehearsed the rest on arrival in Dunedin. These money-saving devices in no way lowered standards. Willis and the company’s machinists, Messrs. Rose and Briggs, were frequently called forward to take a bow after the more demandingly spectacular operas, and the ten-piece orchestra was considered better drilled and more reliable than those of earlier companies. Significantly, none of the opera troupes previously seen in the colony had paid much attention to ancillary factors that did so much to enhance audience enjoyment. Allen’s chorus may have been small and sometimes wayward, but two of the woman choristers were accomplished enough to provide dance sequences ALICE MAY 43

when needed. Scenery, costumes, and stage effects were better than any earlier opera company had mustered. When the curtain rose on the Richmond Fair scene in Martha, for instance, there was invariably a storm of applause from the auditorium as patrons responded to Willis’s nostalgia-inducing recreation of a typical English fairground: booths, merry-go-round, Punch and Judy show, swings, and tumblers. There was even an extra dressed as a dancing bear. No one pretended that the singers in the company were as good as those of Augusto Cagli’s Italian troupe, which had visited the previous year, but taken together, they made a personable and competent team whose homely virtues seemed to strike a greater chord with audiences. The Italians, after all, were exotically “foreign.” Allen’s artists were reassuringly, respectably “British.” In New Zealand, this mattered. Allen also took care to foster public goodwill by supporting charitable causes. His performers raised money for benevolent institutions, building funds, and lunatic asylums, and lent their voices to church services. In the process, they endeared themselves to the communities they visited. It was a policy other opera troupes would follow, but few with greater success. Allen’s reputation as a composer stood him in good stead. Many of his ballads, part-songs, and anthems were known to New Zealand music lovers, so he was treated as something of a visiting celebrity and his opinions were frequently sought. In Christchurch, for example, he was asked to advise on the facilities needed for a new theatre. Allen was as popular with his artists as he was with the public. Midway through the tour, the company’s orchestra and chorus presented him with a silver baton inset with a piece of Thames gold-bearing quartz rock, as a mark of their esteem. With the exception of Alice, the leading bass, T.H.Rainford, and the admirable Howard Vernon, who handled the comic roles, most of the company’s soloists were supporting artists from the Lyster troupe keen to seize their chance for greater stardom. The best of them was Nellie Lambert, an attractive, dark-haired mezzosoprano with a sweet, clear voice and excellent diction. She was not a bold performer but her unaffected acting style made her popular. Lambert’s husband, Charles Templeton, possessed a musical if not very powerful baritone. He looked good onstage and acted well. Florence Howe was a useful contralto who had worked with Alice and Allen in their Gallery of Illustration days. The 44 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

inexperienced leading tenor, Henry Hallam, had begun his career singing in a burlesque troupe. He had a pleasant voice but his top notes were not equal to the demands placed upon them. Critics complained that he often cheated by resorting to falsetto or transposing passages an octave lower than written. Hallam’s wife, Hattie Shepparde, who had played Juno so delectably in the Australasian premiere of Orphée aux enfers, traveled as stage manager for the first part of the tour, until advancing pregnancy forced her to return to Melbourne. Allen’s commonsense approach to touring was reflected in the repertoire he chose. It was weighted toward the lighter end of the spectrum and included a majority of works that had already proved their popularity in New Zealand. The Daughter of the Regiment, Der Freischütz, Fra Diavolo, Martha, La Sonnambula, Faust, , and the Lacy version of Cinderella had all been introduced by Lyster a decade earlier. The roster of English operas included four familiar names—Maritana, The Lily of Killarney, The Rose of Castille, and The Bohemian Girl—and one work new to audiences in the colony, Balfe’s Satanella. The most interesting novelties were Offenbach’s Geneviève de Brabant, Barbe-bleue, and La Grande-Duchesse de Gérolstein. Previously there had been brief seasons of La Grande-Duchesse performed by ad hoc companies in Dunedin and Auckland, but this was New Zealand’s first significant encounter with opéra-bouffe. Although the genre had not gained complete acceptance, with the benefit of hindsight it is clear that by the end of the tour the Allen troupe had played a vital role in convincing the colony’s operagoers to favor French sparkle over Italian passion. The most popular work that the company introduced to New Zealand was Satanella. This was first seen in Dunedin on March 20, 1874. Although Hallam was disappointing as the rakish Count Rupert, who games his fortune away on the eve of his wedding, and Lambert had to sing above her range as his soprano sweetheart, Lelia, Alice’s performance of the title role was considered one of her best characterizations. Rainford’s subterranean rumblings as her demonic master, Arimanes, also roused critical admiration. The operas greatest attraction, however, was its spectacular stage effects. These created such excitement that people were soon clamoring for tickets and extra performances had to be mounted in all the main centers. Maritana and La Grande-Duchesse de Gérolstein rated nearly as high in the popularity stakes. The latter’s success was due partly ALICE MAY 45

to its engaging score and partly to excellent acting. As an Otago Daily Times reviewer noted the day after its tour premiere in Dunedin, on March 11, 1874, the work was “in all respects suited to the Company, who entered heart and soul into it.” Alice, in the title role, won over even those critics who were unsure about the acceptability of the new style of opera. There was a revealing undertone of almost guilty enjoyment in many reviews. Some writers clearly believed that music should be used for interpreting lofty ideals and finer feelings rather than for having fun. “Comic opera has not yet established itself in the minds of some lovers of high-class music as a possible thing,” observed a Wellington critic in the New Zealand Mail on June 6, 1874, “and yet there is no doubt that to the great body of those present ‘The Grand Duchess’ was a new and welcome sensation.” Geneviève de Brabant, which received its first New Zealand performance in Dunedin on March 24, 1874, was not considered the equal of La Grande-Duchesse. “To dignify this composition with the appelation of ‘opera’ would be outrageously absurd,” asserted the Otago Daily Times the next day Whatever it might have been in its original French version, the English adaptation was “a downright burlesque.” Although Drogan and Genéviève’s “Balcony Duet” in act 1, “exquisitely sung” by Alice and Lambert, was “a perfect gem,” the writer thought it a pity to see Alice May—“a brilliant star on the pure lyric stage”—wasting her talents on unworthy material. However, reaction to the work elsewhere was more favorable. The amusing anachronisms and clever stage effects delighted audiences, and several reviewers remarked that the cast seemed almost to vie with each other to see who could produce the most rollicking performance. Other items in the repertoire fared less well. The third Offenbach work, Barbe-bleue, was condemned as musically inferior and failed to attract audiences. The performances of Fra Diavolo, La Sonnambula, and The Bohemian Girl were all considered unsatisfactory in various ways. Because the troupe was a compact one with fewer than forty members, its resources were inadequate for some of the operas presented. Der Freischütz succeeded more through its special effects than its singing and Il Trovatore was far too difficult and heavy a choice. Reviewers were pleased to hear the opera performed in English for the first time in New Zealand, but regularly complained about the number of times the chorus went astray, unable to cope with the complexities of the music. 46 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

Alice as Satanella, a portrait taken during her 1874 New Zealand tour. Courtesy Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales.

ALICE MAY 47

Il Trovatore highlighted the excessive pressure placed on Alice throughout the tour. Leonora was not a role she should have been singing. Her voice was essentially a high lyric mezzosoprano, although at this stage of her career she could get away with a certain amount of coloratura work. Leonora had been written for a robust, dark, and dramatic soprano. The other new roles that she undertook on the New Zealand tour—Maritana, Lady Harriet in Martha, even Marguerite in Faust—were within her capabilities; Leonora was not. When she sang the part for the first time, at Wellington’s Theatre Royal on October 14, 1874, she coped with the musical demands as well as she could, minimizing her vocal inadequacies by acting with “the utmost fire and passion.” Nevertheless, the reviewer in Wellington’s main newspaper, the Evening Post, the following day expressed regret “that her glorious voice should be subjected to the needless strain imposed” and pointed out that “singing Verdi had been the ruination of many fine voices.” Allen did not take the hint. For the first time he showed that he was prepared to sacrifice Alice s musical well-being in the interest of expediency. Audiences wanted to see IlTrovatore, so he kept it in the repertoire. There was no respite for Alice. While Vernon proved a surprisingly good substitute for Hallam in certain roles, she was irreplaceable. She struggled gamely on, even when a painful fall early in the tour left her limping around the stage. No doubt she felt under some duress to perform even when unwell, because she was so popular that the company’s revenue tended to dip if she was not scheduled to appear. When she became seriously ill during the second Dunedin season in January 1875, opera performances had to be suspended until she had recovered. In works that stretched the company s limits she literally carried the show. During a Christchurch performance of Il Trovatore, the Globe of November 17, 1874, noticed that Alice “saved several disasters by the timely interposition of the cue, given pianissimo.”The writer felt that this was typical of her professionalism and dedication: “What I like about Miss May, in her various parts, is the fervour and abandon with which she throws herself into the character; from the first to the last her heart is thoroughly in her work, and she deservedly receives praise.” Alice May was the company’s jewel. New Zealand critics lauded her almost unreservedly, admiring not only the quality of her singing but the spirit and stamina she displayed in coping with a wide variety of different roles night after night. Audiences took her 48 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

to their hearts, showering her with bouquets and other more valuable tokens of appre ciation. During the company’s first visit to Christchurch she was presented with “a handsome gold necklace and locket, enclosed in a casket upon which was a silver plate bearing a suitable inscription,” according to a report in the Star of May 23, 1874. In Wellington, a group of admirers gave her a diamond brooch with matching earrings. So many items of jewelry were bestowed on her during the tour that she was reported to have made a substantial personal profit by the time she left the colony. The most memorable tribute she received, however, had no monetary value. After a Wellington performance of Il Trovatore on October 17, 1874, a torchlight procession was laid on in her honor. She was driven back to her hotel in an open carriage filled with flowers, preceded by the Artillery Band and escorted by members of the Wellington Fire Brigade bearing red and blue torches. “The streets were literally packed all the way, some thousands of people turning out to witness the spectacle,” noted the reporter for the Evening Post. “Every window and balcony too was crowded with eager faces. The whole affair went off with remarkable spirit and effect.” Alice May’s torchlight procession was remembered in Wellington for years afterward. There had never been such a show of enthusiasm for a visiting prima donna. Allen’s Royal English Opera Company left New Zealand on March 3, 1875. Despite its deficiencies, the New Zealand press and public had treated it with an indulgence that previous troupes would have envied—a result largely attributable to Alice’s charisma and Allen s ability to give the colony’s operagoers what they wanted. Buoyed by the success of his first full-scale excursion into operatic management and with the proceeds from the gifts Alice had received in New Zealand to fall back on, Allen decided to keep the nucleus of the company together and continue touring. After a brief stopover in Melbourne, he took his performers to Adelaide, where they received a great welcome when they began a seven- week season on April 12, 1875. Operagoers in the South Australian capital had warmed to Alice four years earlier, when she was an inexperienced singer on her first tour. Not surprisingly, they were keen to hear how she sounded now that she had become one of the biggest names in colonial opera. The critic of the South Australian Register felt that she had developed well, fully justifying the high reputation she had gained elsewhere. As Maritana, on opening night, “she gave ALICE MAY 49

repeated indications that she had made the part the subject of careful study.” Unlike on her previous visit, she did not try to do too much. Her singing was

quite free from those questionable embellishments which are so frequently mistaken for improvements on the original. Her auditors hear none of the whispered cadences, the unmeaning crescendos, the languishing sentimental phrasing, nor of the affected tremolo in which vocalists sometimes indulge. Her style is vigorous, forcible and impassioned; perhaps too invariably so. Yet at times she imparts to the music a delicious charm by the delicacy of her intonation and the ideal beauty of her vocalization.

The longer the season went on, the more the Register’s critic liked Alice, although he could not help noticing that she had not entirely shrugged off her worst fault. Her “greatest triumphs are in the exhibition of powerful emotion, whether of love or hatred, intense delight, deepseated anguish, violent passion, or blank despair,” he noted on May 14. Faced with an essentially bland character such as Amina in La Sonnambula, she did her best to exercise restraint, but—a variation of the complaint that was to dog her career—she “would have been more effective had she still further checked her demonstrative tendencies.” Her versatility, however, was astonishing. After the first Adelaide performance of Barbe-bleue on May 17, the critic marveled at “how the same prima donna can excel equally in deep tragedy and burlesque.” Critical approval was extended only intermittently to the rest of the company. Some of the performers had been unwilling to continue touring after leaving New Zealand, so the troupe was weaker in certain departments. The orchestra was particularly affected. With the exception of the excellent lead violinist, Achille Fleury, the players recruited in New Zealand elected to remain there and not enough good replacements had been found. On opening night, Adelaide theatergoers were treated to the ludicrous spectacle of Allen dashing around the pit, presiding not only as conductor and pianist but as drummer in his own band. The skills of Willis, the scenic artist, were greatly missed, and the way the performances were staged almost always left something to be desired. Nor were Adelaide audiences as generous to Hallam and the other inexperienced artists as those in New Zealand had been. Before long, Allen had to call for reinforcements. Armes Beaumont 50 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

Playbill for a performance by Allen’s Royal English Opera Company at the Theatre Royal, Wellington, New Zealand, in 1874. Courtesy Alexander Turnbull Library, National Library of New Zealand.

ALICE MAY 51 arrived on April 21, followed by Augusto Susini, one of the best basses in Australia and a stalwart of Lyster’s Italian troupe. Susini’s advent, however, turned out to be a mixed blessing. Audiences who flocked to hear him on the strength of his fine reputation were not disappointed, but there were adverse comments about the fact that he sang all his roles in Italian while the other members of the cast performed in English. The season ended on May 31 with an enormous concert of ballads and operatic excerpts. This attracted an overflowing house and turned out to be one of the company’s most successful Adelaide performances. In most respects, however, the visit was a sad anticlimax after the heady triumphs of the New Zealand tour. But Allen was not deterred. He still harbored grand plans, especially now that Alice had proved her star quality. On June 1, 1875 he and his company set sail for Melbourne and the next stage of what was becoming an increasingly ambitious journey. Chapter 5 Indian Adventure

Toward the end of the New Zealand tour, Allen had hinted to newspaper reporters that he was thinking of taking his company to the United States. It is hard to know whether this was a genuine ambition or a publicity gambit. Whichever the case, his goals soon changed. By the end of the 1875 Adelaide season he had set his sights on a return to England. His decision was partly practical. The longer he stayed in Australasia, the harder it would be to reestablish his musical career in Britain, where colonial experience counted for very little. His main consideration, however, seems to have been his conviction that Alice’s abilities were worthy of a bigger stage. She had captivated theatregoers in Australasia; perhaps she could be just as successful elsewhere. Allen obviously felt there was nothing to lose by putting her to the test. After all, they could both count on being welcomed back to the colonies if things did not work out as he hoped. As far as the English-speaking world was concerned, London was still the ultimate destination for anyone wanting to make a name for him or herself in the entertainment industry. Even star performers on the American circuit had been known to forego the greater monetary rewards of New York and put their reputations on the line, to be able to boast of achieving success in the British capital. Allen s belief in Alice’s potential to shine in this most cutthroat of theatrical markets was reinforced by the generally unflattering comments on the standards of the British musical theatre that appeared from time to time in the colonial press. W.H. Waters, who provided overseas theatrical information to the ALICE MAY 53

Australasian under the byline “Call Boy,” had written a particularly sharp column on the subject two years earlier. After castigating British audiences as “gullible” for accepting some of the rubbish put before them, Waters concluded that the only leading ladies worth hearing in opera bouffe in London were Emily Soldene and the Australia-raised Julia Mathews. “Miss Alice May,” he declared, “would hold her own against any English opera prima donna.” If this turned out to be true, it could mean not only stardom for Alice but a chance for Allen to further his own ambitions as a composer and conductor through his association with her. On Monday, June 7, 1875, Allen’s Royal English Opera Company began a season at the Melbourne Opera House. There was no mention, at first, of these being farewell performances but Alice was very much the focus of attention. Although it was nearly two years since she had last appeared in Melbourne, absence had done nothing to dim her popularity. In the weeks before the season began there was a spate of articles about her recent successes. Some were mere puffery but others attempted to evaluate her career to date. The most interesting, and the first to contain a substantial amount of biographical material, was published in the Australasian Sketcher on May 15, 1875. It detailed her brilliant reception in New Zealand and outlined her extensive repertoire, which now numbered seventeen full-length operas as well as “such pretty trifles as The Rose of Auvergne’ and the like.” The writer noted that Alice May was “a general and deserved favourite, and as her professional reputation is quite Australian we very naturally think the more highly of her.” Moreover, “Her success is of an enduring and assured kind…. Her highest triumphs have not yet been recorded.” Despite Alice’s drawing power, Allen’s venture was a risky one. Lyster’s English company, featuring Jeannie Winston in the roles once graced by Alice, had vacated the Melbourne Opera House just two days earlier. Fears that it might be hard to interest audiences in yet another opera season were allayed when a good crowd turned up for the opening-night presentation of Maritana. Press and public alike gave Alice an enthusiastic reception. The next few evenings were given over to popular standards such as Satanella and The Bohemian Girl. Then, on June 11, Allen introduced a double-bill comprising The Rose of Auvergne (with Alice, Hallam, and Vernon) and his own decade-old operetta, Castle Grim. The latter was used as a vehicle for introducing a couple of newcomers 54 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

Alice May as depicted in the Australasian Sketcher, May 15, 1875. Courtesy Alexander Turnbull Library, National Library of New Zealand. to the opera stage: Maggie Liddle, a contralto, was an experienced concert singer; Emily Thompson, a youthful soprano, was billed as a pupil of Alice’s. Both made a reasonably positive impression and were taken on as permanent members of the company. The response to the work itself was lukewarm. Reviewers did not care for the story and found the music old-fashioned and derivative. The best melodies were reminiscent of Weber. The rest could have ALICE MAY 55

been written by William Shield, Thomas Attwood, or any one of a dozen other turn-of-the-century English composers. For audiences now accustomed to the champagne sparkle of Offenbach, it was the flattest of flat beer. If Castle Grim was a disappointment, Alice’s Melbourne debut as Marguerite in Faust on June 23, 1875, more than compensated. A few critics were openly apprehensive before the event, doubting whether a singer who played Boulotte and Drogan with such expertise could adapt herself to the very different demands of French grand opera. They were pleased to be proved wrong. She tackled the role with surprising naturalness and lack of overemphasis and her performance “won for her the highest honours she has yet achieved as an actress and singer since her first appearance in this city…. Miss May s Marguerite may rank with the best which have preceded it in this place.” News of Alice’s success in Faust resulted in crowded houses at every subsequent performance of the work. The commentator for the Argus of June 24, 1873, felt that Alice May should now concentrate on what he called “better things.” Others were delighted that her excursion into grand opera had not weakened her skills in opéra-bouffe. She was in her element in lighter works, as she demonstrated when La Grande-Duchesse de Gérolstein was revived on June 26. The role gave her natural vivacity “the best possible opportunity of exhibiting itself,” according to the Australasian of July 3, 1875: “She quite understands the humour of the situations, but, while brimming over with fun, she does not therefore overdo it. Her voice seems to be exactly fitted to the music. She brings out both its raciness, its tenderness, and its fluency.” By the beginning of July, Alice’s impending departure was public knowledge. Under the heading “Farewell Performances,” newspaper advertisements informed her admirers that she would be proceeding “to India, China, America and Europe” at the end of the season. The allencompassing list of destinations suggested that Allen had not yet finalized his arrangements, although he was widely rumored to be negotiating with George Anderson, manager of the Corinthian Theatre in Calcutta, to play a season there. Meanwhile, he diversified his company’s repertoire in an unexpected direction, perhaps with the aim of bringing his own career in the colonies to a spectacular climax. A few weeks earlier, Lyster’s former Italian troupe, which had been attempting an independent season in Sydney, had run into financial difficulties 56 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

and disbanded. Allen promptly hired some of its best singers so that he could spice up his own program with bigger and more demanding works. On July 5 he mounted the Melbourne premiere of Meyerbeer’s , with soloists from the Italian troupe reprising roles they had originally played in Sydney. The meltingly lovely act 1 lullaby “Dors, petite, dors tranquille” and the coloratura brilliance of the “Shadow Song” in act 2 were immediate hits, and the work attracted sufficient attention to be repeated twice more. Alice was not required for Dinorah. She was being saved for Allen’s next blockbuster, the ever-popular Il Trovatore, which entered the repertoire on July 12. Experienced Italian artists took three of the main roles, Leonora, Manrico, and the Count di Luna. Alice appeared as the gypsy, Azucena. It was an astonishing piece of casting. Azucena, although nominally a mezzosoprano role, was favored territory for the true contralto and required a singer with a hefty lower register. There was no doubt that Alice could sing the notes, but, as the critic of the Argus pointed out in his review the following day, “It is a matter for consideration whether she should cultivate this line while principally in the business of the high soprano; the transition from Marguerite to Azucena is a very wide change as far as the voice is concerned, and we doubt the possibility of achieving excellence in both.” The warning quickly proved justified. After singing Marguerite two days later, Alice lost her voice completely. The final nights of the season had to be hastily rearranged while she battled what newspaper reports described as “a serious throat infection” and she was not even well enough to appear at her scheduled benefit performance on July 17. Her seemingly inexhaustible stamina had reached its limit. If playing Leonora in New Zealand had been unwise, tackling Azucena was sheer folly for a singer of Alice’s stamp. Why did she do it? The answer lay in her easygoing nature and willingness to put company interests ahead of her own. These were facets of her character that colleagues remarked on throughout her career. Alice seemingly had little sense of vocal self-preservation. If she was asked to sing a role she went ahead and did so, regardless of its suitability. In this case the fault was Allen’s. He should never have cast her in the part, but he needed her drawing power at the box office and knew that there was no one else in the company capable of singing Azucena well enough to stand comparison with the Italian artists playing the other leading roles. Given his optimistic nature he probably crossed his fingers and hoped for the ALICE MAY 57

best—only to end up with the worst possible result. His Royal English Opera Company’s Melbourne season limped to a conclusion with a hastily cobbled together program replacing the advertised gala performance intended to honor Alice’s contribution to the colonial stage. From Melbourne the company made a short excursion to Sandhurst (Bendigo). It was there, on August 3, 1875, that Alice gave her last Australasian performance. By coincidence, the role she played was the one with which she had begun her stage career: Marie in The Daughter of the Regiment. During the company s final few days in Melbourne she had no chance to make a farewell appearance. The town was buzzing over the arrival of the colorful Croatian prima donna Ilma di Murska, who was due to give several concerts at the Town Hall. At the Opera House, two of Australasia’s best loved theatrical stars, J.C.Williamson and his wife, Maggie Moore, were performing in their hit play Struck Oil as a prelude to departing for India via a season in Adelaide. With so much else going on in the world of entertainment, Alice May’s departure ceased to be newsworthy. Only a small crowd of well- wishers waved good-bye as the steamer Pera left Melbourne on Tuesday, August 10, carrying a shipment of Victorian gold, mail for Britain and the East, and the forty-seven members of Allen’s Royal English Opera Company bound for a season in Calcutta. There were long-established theatrical links between the Australian colonies and British India. Performers heading to London from Melbourne or Adelaide often broke their journey in Calcutta. Companies also came from the East to Australasia. Augusto Cagli, the impresario whose singers formed the nucleus of Lyster’s Italian opera company, had been one of the pioneers of opera on the subcontinent, and Mrs.G.B.W. Lewis, whose dramatic troupe was also aboard the Pera, had with her late husband been largely responsible for establishing theatre in Calcutta. After a three-year absence in Melbourne, Mrs.Lewis had decided to return to India because she expected the entertainment business there to boom during the forthcoming visit of the Prince of Wales (the future King Edward VII). Allen and Alice were attracted both by the possible financial rewards and the prospect of royal patronage. The prince was a known opera lover, so it was likely he would choose to attend one of their performances when he came to Calcutta later in the year. To appear before royalty would be a great honor as well as a useful recommendation back in England. 58 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

Calcutta was the capital and gateway to British India. In 1875 it was a wealthy, sprawling city of roughly a million people, fewer than nine thousand of whom were European. The largest proportion of the European population were members of the military, but there were also civil administrators, railway employees, and businessmen of all sorts, from merchants to mill owners. They were overwhelmingly British, predominantly male, and generally convinced of their own racial superiority. Europeans in Calcutta lived in a world apart. To protect themselves from the debilitating daytime heat and avoid being assailed by the stench and squalor of the teeming city streets they usually moved around by carriage or by palki, an Indian equivalent of the eighteenth- century sedan chair. Their homes were clustered about Dalhousie Square and the Maidan, a great open space intersected by dusty roads, along the most fashionable of which the white-columned mansions of the wealthy stretched like a string of minipalaces. The arbiter of the British community’s social life was the Queens representative, the viceroy, who was invariably a British aristocrat. Newcomers to Calcutta found that their hardest task— apart from learning to cope with the heat, noise, and smells of the seething metropolis—was to accept the constraints of a rigidly stratified society run according to customs and rules long outdated in England. With the exception of a small number of highborn Indians, theatre audiences were entirely European. Although not always well behaved or discriminating, they were enthusiastic patrons of opera, which had been an accepted part of Calcutta’s social scene since the intrepid Cagli first brought his troupe of Italian singers to the city in April 1866. Opera mania had led to the building of an elegant opera house in 1867 and the creation of an opera committee made up of twenty-four local worthies, including a few wealthy Indians. This committee raised the money to subsidize subsequent Cagli seasons. After Cagli’s departure for Melbourne, the committee had appointed Guglielmo Mack as the city’s Italian opera impresario. He found the going tough, despite widening the repertoire to include opéra-bouffe. By the time Allen and Alice reached Calcutta with their colleagues in early September 1875, opera was in the doldrums and the opera house had been leased to a dramatic troupe. Allen’s Royal English Opera Company was the first to perform in Calcutta independently of the opera committee and the first to concentrate on English opera and opéra-bouffe. A long ALICE MAY 59

advertisement in the September 8 issue of the Englishman outlined the attractions of the forthcoming season. Performances would be under “The Immediate Patronage of H.E.The Viceroy and Governor-General,” thus ensuring their social acceptability. Eighteen full-length works and six one-act operettas were promised. Only ’s and Donizetti’s Lucrezia Borgia were new to the company’s repertoire. In fact, the Donizetti and Allen’s own Castle Grim failed to be performed during the season, but two works not originally scheduled, Offenbach’s La Princesse de Trébizonde and Lecocq’s splendidly farcical Giroflé-Girofla—were introduced in their place. Alice headed the list of advertised artists as “Prima Donna Assoluta.” Supporting her on the female side were Florence Howe, Maggie Liddle, and the novice talents of Emily Thompson. The leading men were Henry Hallam, Howard Vernon, Charles Templeton, and T.H.Rainford, all of whom had been with the troupe since its inception. Surprisingly, the season hit immediate trouble. After an opening performance of Satanella on September 15, 1875, there was nothing until a solitary Geneviève de Brabant on October 9. The same day the Englishman published an “Important Statement’ under Alice’s name to the effect that, as the directors of the Corinthian Theatre had failed to fulfill their contract with the company, she felt compelled to take matters out of their hands and proceed at her own expense and risk. The theatre remained dark over the next fortnight while lawyers for the two parties sparred with each other.The directors of the Corinthian claimed they were not bound by the contract their manager had signed with Allen in Melbourne because they had not approved it. Allen’s opinion was that the directors had spent all their available resources on paying the troupe’s s passage and were trying to wriggle out of any further commitments. He was less than impressed to learn that the theatre had a large number of shareholders, all with the right of free entry to every performance. This liability was certain to dent profit margins. Nevertheless, having come so far to play a season of opera, he and Alice had little choice but to continue at their own risk when all attempts to renegotiate the contract failed. To make matters worse, Indian conditions soon began to take a toll. The true opening of the season—a performance of Lecocq’s popular La Fille de Madame Angot on October 23—was less than satisfactory because Alice went down with what was described as influenza and her role as Clairette had to be assumed at short 60 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

Howard Vernon, one of Alice’s most reliable costars during her travels in Australasia and India. Courtesy Peter Downes. notice by Howe, who proved a far from adequate substitute. Other company members were laid low in their turn. As a later theatrical visitor, David Kennedy, noted in 1887: “No ‘new arrival’ in Calcutta is supposed to have the freedom of the city until he has made the acquaintance of that shaky firm, Fever and Ague.” Even though October was supposed to herald the start of cooler temperatures, the weather was still unpleasantly hot and humid ALICE MAY 61

for Europeans. Most of the troupe suffered from the heat. The string players in the small orchestra were forever regluing their instruments, the women’s dresses had to be wrung out following each performance, and paint peeled off the scenery after just a few days. The ultimate price of Indian touring was brought home to everyone on October 31 when Achille Fleury, who had led the orchestra since the company’s first performance in New Zealand, died following a severe attack of dysentery. Gradually, despite the disasters, the season settled down to a semblance of normality. Alice recovered quickly. Her voice seemed unimpaired by the climate and she rapidly became a great favorite. “She is equal to all she undertakes,” commented the Indian Daily News. “An accomplished singer, with a voice of fine timbre, fresh and well cultivated, [and] a charming and finished manner, she carries all before her.” The Englishman described her as “one of the best singers we have had in Calcutta for a long time.” Alice was particularly admired in La Sonnambula, La GrandeDuchesse de Gérolstein, and The Lily of Killarney, but was reproved for avoiding many of the high notes when she sang Marie in The Daughter of the Regiment. Her popularity with the general public became so great that the troupe was commonly referred to as “Miss May’s company.” Alice received sterling support from Vernon, Rainford, and Liddle, all of whom showed great resilience throughout the tour. By contrast, Howe could not cope with conditions at all and her roles were gradually reassigned to others. Hallam’s contribution was variable. At times the heat affected him badly; on other occasions he was at his best. He was considered particularly good as the Duke in Geneviève de Brabant. This was possibly a reflection of the works overall success. With its spectacular railway station scene and irresistible “Gendarmes’ Duet” it quickly became the talk of Calcutta—so much so that a leading local theatrical identity, Dave Carson, rushed out a burlesque of it entitled The Woman in Black or the Grand Duch, with, to conclude the first half, General Dave and his volunteer Boum-bardiers mustering for military evolutions. Its humor was probably as heavy-handed as its title. Calcutta’s operagoers liked works containing an element of the spectacular. Der Freischütz and The Lily of Killarney scored particularly well. There was also an appreciative audience when a local band appeared onstage to reinforce the “Soldiers’ Chorus” in Faust. Another highlight was the Calcutta premiere of Lecocq’s 62 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

joyously zany Giroflé-Girofla on December 18. Alice was excellent in the rewarding dual role of the twin sisters mistaken for each other on their wedding morning, and Lecocq’s spirited airs and marvelous ensembles ensured that the work became an instant hit. Some of the company’s other offerings fared less well. In Cinderella, for example, the Englishman reported, “The prompter’s voice could be heard all over the house; and the hitches in changing the scenery, charitably supposed to be unavoidable in a first performance, also detracted from its success.” The public tended to be more tolerant of the company s faults than the critics, who regularly pointed out deficiencies of casting or ensemble and the occasional evident lack of rehearsal. But even the critics found plenty to praise. The repertoire provided something for every taste, Alice was always worth hearing, several of the other artists were very good, and the standards of costumes, scenery, and staging, remarkably high. Allen and Alice worked hard at promotion, publicizing the performances more intensely and colorfully than had the Italian companies. Because climate, custom, and the small audience base made it unwise to perform every night, they also sought alternative ways of earning money. Allen arranged a “Grand Sacred Music Festival” on Christmas Day, 1875, at which the company performed excerpts from Haydn’s The Seasons, Mendelssohn’s Elijah, and Rossini’s Stabat Mater. Advertisements under Alice’s name advised “Maharajahs, Rajahs, Baboos and others” that “Miss Alice May is prepared to accept engagements for herself or all or any member of her Company for Wednesday or Friday evenings during her stay in Calcutta.” How many availed themselves of this opportunity is not recorded. The modest success the company achieved was hard won, because it had stiff competition throughout its time in the city.The Lewis troupe at the Theatre Royal posed little problem at first, but when J.C.Williamson and Maggie Moore joined it toward the end of the year it became a considerable attraction. The drama company at the Opera House provided an even sterner challenge. Not only did it have the most prestigious theatre, it had engaged a genuine London star, the veteran comedian Charles Mathews, for a series of performances. He was fawned over from the moment he arrived in Calcutta on December 9, but although he was an understandably greater draw than a colonial opera troupe, the Royal English Opera Company held its own reasonably well, even on December 18 when Mathews’s debut coincided with the premiere of Giroflé-Girofla. ALICE MAY 63

Christmas 1875 brought the long-awaited visit of the Prince of Wales. The event, so eagerly anticipated, turned out to be a disappoint ment for Allen’s troupe. The prince s crowded schedule of receptions and banquets left him with just a couple of free evenings to enjoy some form of theatrical entertainment. Lord Northbrook, the viceroy, had visited the opera on several occasions. In normal circumstances he would almost certainly have suggested that his royal guest attend a performance at the Corinthian. Unfortunately for Allen and Alice, the prince knew Mathews personally—the comedian had been invited to appear before the royal family at Windsor Castle on several occasions. Now the prince showed his appreciation by patronizing Mathews exclusively. The other companies were left looking on jealously as the cream of Calcutta society scrambled to get into the performances that the prince attended at the Opera House. The collapse of his hopes for royal patronage apparently convinced Allen that there was nothing more to be gained by staying in Calcutta. Advertisements at the beginning of the new year advised that the opera season would be shortened. Alice s benefit was arranged for January 10, 1876, despite the fact that audience numbers were bound to be affected by Mathews’s benefit performance the following evening. She lost even the consolation of having the viceroy add luster to her farewell by attending the performance. Williamson—showing the acumen that would soon make him the sharpest entrepreneur in the Southern Hemisphere —had secured viceregal patronage for himself that night. On January 12 there was a final concert on behalf of the orchestra and chorus, who were being dispensed with for the rest of the tour. Then Allen, Alice, and the remainder of the troupe packed their bags and set off on a 630-mile journey by rail and riverboat to Allahabad, the seat of government for the North-west Provinces. Indians regarded Allahabad as a holy city. It stood, they said, at the meeting of three rivers: two temporal and visible, the Jumna and the Ganges; one spiritual and invisible, the river flowing from Heaven. The British were more interested in Allahabad’s strategic importance. It lay halfway between Delhi and Calcutta, on the Great Trunk Road linking these two major centers. Since the Indian Mutiny of 1857–58, the British had kept a large garrison in the city and turned its most notable building, the great fort built by Akbar in 1572, into a formidable military stronghold. Although Allahabad was home to the fourth-highest concentration of Europeans in India, large theatrical companies seldom found it 64 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

worth visiting. The Royal English Opera Company s presentation of La Grande-Duchesse de Gérolstein at the Railway Theatre on January 19, 1876, was almost certainly the first professional opera performance held in the city. No reviews have been traced but the public response must have been reasonably favorable because three further performances, one of Maritana and two of The Daughter of the Regiment, were given before the troupe moved on to its next destination. Traveling from Allahabad to the picturesque port city of Bombay (present-day Mumbai), India’s second most important European center, involved a long and tiring rail journey that detoured by way of Delhi before heading to the coast, but the trip turned out to be worth the effort. Not only did the company receive a great welcome, it also obtained viceregal patronage, because Lord Northbrook was visiting the city. Bombay had several theatres, but Allen ignored them all. In what was probably an economic decision, he hired the hall of a Parsee scientific, philosophical, and literary organization, the Framjee Cowasgee Institute. The hall was used mainly for lectures and was quite unsuitable for theatrical performances. Neither this nor the hot, sticky weather deterred Bombay’s opera lovers. A nearly full house turned out to see Maritana on January 31, 1876, and despite the disadvantages of a poor venue and an orchestra consisting only of Allen at the piano, the evening, as the Times of India noted the following day, “passed pleasantly enough.” Alice scored a considerable success and was “energetically encored” for her singing of the favorite air “Scenes That Are Brightest.” Word quickly spread that the company was worth hearing. La Grande-Duchesse de Gérolstein the following night attracted a crowded house, and Alice, in one of her best roles, was cheered to the echo when she finished the dashing “Saber Song” and the dazzling Rondo Militaire “Oh, How I Dote on the Military.” La Sonnambula on February 2, was also packed. Allen immediately extended the season in order to present Offenbach’s La Princesse de Trébizonde on February 3. Alice still had the legs and the youthful vigor to win over the audience as the adolescent Prince Raphael. She played the role in spirited fashion, embroidering the music by interpolating one of Allen’s most popular songs, “Little Bird so Sweetly Singing,” during the performance. By now the Royal English Opera Company had been on the road for two years. It had traveled from the colony of Victoria to New Zealand and South Australia, back to Victoria, and then to India, ALICE MAY 65

performing almost continuously along the way. On February 7, 1876, the company opened in its final port-of-call, Madras (renamed Chennai in 1996). This was an unexpected choice of destination yet an inspired one, because the season there turned out to be extremely successful. Professional entertainment of any kind was a rarity in the city. There was no theatre and the climate was unpleasantly enervating for Europeans. Worse, access was difficult. The only practical way to get a large opera company from Bombay to Madras was by sea, but Madras was still a roadstead port, meaning it had no genuine harbor and no docks. Ships had to anchor in what was known as “the Madras roads” and discharge their passengers and cargo into lighters and steam launches for transfer to the small jetties built out from the beach. The chances of getting a drenching were high. Few theatrical companies thought it worth risking the ruin of their precious scenery and costumes to play a season in Madras. Largely because of its poor access, the city had become something of a cultural backwater for Europeans. It was hardly surprising that the Allen troupe’s arrival to give a series of performances in the hall of Pachaiyappa’s College—an imposing building modeled on the temple of Theseus in Athens—aroused intense interest. Alice’s qualities as Maritana on opening night were vividly described in the Madras Mail on May 8, 1876:

Youthful, essentially “bonnie,” of medium stature, heathful and piquant, with an invariable grace and unflagging activity, she has the not common art of merging her individuality in her part, and of acting as though she derives continued pleasure of a refined sort from the poetry of motion and the sweetness of song. Her voice is capable of filling a far larger theatre than that of the College, and is wonderfully flexible and sweetly melodious. She is also a picturesque actress, and with equal success, represents either pathos or humour, suiting the action to the word in the liveliest manner. She is free—save, perhaps, for a rather too frequent movement of the arms—from any obvious effort after effect, and she throws a naturalness into her representation that argues good humour and long practice.

Other members of the company also came in for praise, particularly Rainford, with “his rich bass voice and fine stage presence.” The reviewer concluded, very fairly, that the performers, 66 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

with the exception of Alice, would “probably not quite satisfy the requirements of people who have just arrived from Europe with lively recollections of Opera experiences in London, Paris, Milan, Naples, or Vienna; but they are sure to please the far larger number of people who have for years been endeavouring, but in vain, to satisfy their musical hunger at amateur performances.” Allen had initially advertised a season of sixteen “concert” opera performances; however, the warm welcome that the troupe received made him alter his plans. Eventually, the season lasted nearly seven weeks. During this time the company went through its full range of repertoire as well as giving a “Grand Sacred Concert” on Ash Wednesday, which fell on March 1. Audience numbers were highly satisfactory throughout. A surprisingly large number of Indians attended performances and the Madras Athenaeum and Daily News of February 24 adjured “those Hindu gentlemen who wish to know something of the talent which is displayed on the London stage and who seek to extend their knowledge [to] go to the College Hall and see Miss May and her Company.” The closing performance was Faust on March 25, 1875. It was a gala occasion. The governor of Madras, the Duke of Buckingham and Chandos, had previously attended The Daughter of the Regiment with his suite. For Faust he not only came to the performance but also lent his military band to accompany the whole opera under Allen’s baton. It was the first time since Calcutta that the company had worked with anything resembling an orchestra and it brought the marathon tour to a suitably resounding end. When the weary troupe disbanded, it was almost like the disintegration of a family because they had been together so long and experienced so much. Now the performers went their separate ways, some returning to Melbourne; others, such as Hallam, electing to try their luck on the English stage. Allen and Alice lingered in Madras. On April 2 Alice sang at the College Hall, in what was apparently a private performance under the patronage of the army commander-in-chief. There was a further delay when the launch taking her personal wardrobe of costumes (said to be worth one thousand pounds sterling) out to the waiting steamer, capsized and sank. At last, just as the hot season set in toward the beginning of May, the couple set sail for London. Alice May had left there six years earlier as little more than a talented amateur. She returned with a reputation as one of the brightest stars on the colonial stage. Chapter 6 Crowned with Success

Advance notices heralding Alice May’s arrival appeared in the theatrical gossip columns of several English publications. They were more like publicity paragraphs than news items and had almost certainly been sent out by Allen before the couple left India. A typical example, in the Illustrated London News of April 29, 1876, reported that Alice had “appeared with success at Madras and elsewhere” and was “about to return to London in order to make her début here.” However, Alice and Allen did not reach England until early summer, by which time it seemed more sensible to wait until the start of the new theatrical season before introducing her to the public. The break allowed her time to recover from the cumulative effects of months spent traveling and performing under the severest of conditions. Although Allen, at fifty-four, was approaching veteran status by Victorian standards of longevity, he had apparently weathered the debilitating Indian climate better than Alice, who was worn down by her exertions and—according to a later biographical article in the October 20, 1877, issue of the Illustrated Sporting and Dramatic News—“remained quiet for many months to recruit her health.” It was not until the beginning of October 1876 that the couple placed advertisements in the British theatrical professions leading journal, the Era, announcing their availability for work. The world of musical theatre that they sought to enter was a crowded one. Julia Mathews had died prematurely of rheumatic fever while on tour in America earlier in the year, but there were 68 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

still plenty of established leading ladies in Britain. Among the many opéra-bouffe companies already doing the rounds of the provinces was one led by that brightest of contemporary stars, Emily Soldene. The dazzling Lydia Thompson was about to start a new tour, and another popular musical-theatre soprano, Kate Santley, was ensconced at London’s Strand Theatre in Princess Toto, a work specially written for her by W.S.Gilbert and Frederic Clay. Because aspiring prima donnas were two a penny, an unknown singer from the colonies such as Alice May would need exceptional talent and a slice or two of luck to make a mark. Fortunately, Allen still had a few useful contacts. His godson, Robert Reece, was now a popular writer of London burlesques; Elliot Galer, the principal tenor in the original production of Castle Grim, had become a prominent provincial theatre manager. They and other former colleagues were well placed to help the couple find employment. It was possibly through one of these contacts that Alice’s credentials came to the notice of a young entrepreneur, Richard W.South. South was thirty-two years of age and already an experienced hand in theatrical matters. He had begun his career in drawing room entertainment, specializing in a sophisticated mixture of music and mimicry, but had recently branched out into management. For the past few months he had been touring an opéra-bouffe troupe around the British provincial circuit. It was called the “Grand Duchess” Opera Company, after the most frequently performed work in a limited repertoire that comprised Offenbach’s La Grande-Duchesse de Gérolstein and La Belle Hélène, Lecocq’s La Fille de Madame Angot, and two Offenbach one- acters, The Two Blind Beggars (), and The Rose of Auvergne. The company’s star was Selina Dolaro, a popular artist who had swept to fame in 1871 when she played Galswinthe in the first London production of Hervé’s Chilpéric. She wanted to leave the troupe to take up another engagement, so South was seeking a new leading lady for the last section of the tour. At the beginning of December he announced that he had secured the services of the “celebrated Australian Cantatrice,” Alice May. Consigning her 1869 debut in Margate to oblivion, he informed the public in an advertisement in the Era, on December 3, 1876, that she would make “her First Appearance in England on Monday, Dec. 11th, at the Prince of Wales Theatre, Liverpool.” South’s “Grand Duchess” company was about thirty-six strong. It was weaker, numerically, than the troupe Allen had led through ALICE MAY 69

the colonies but was nonetheless a capable ensemble that had enjoyed considerable financial and critical success. The company’s leading tenor was E.D. (“Ted”) Beverley, a forty year-old Yorkshireman who had been a schoolteacher before taking to the stage. He had once starred alongside Julia Mathews but his voice was now losing some of its ring and bloom, and although his technical competence remained undiminished, he could no longer be described as a singer of the first rank. Beverley was a handsome man with a tall and commanding figure, which helped compensate for the stolidity of his acting. Genial, supportive of his colleagues, and with a reassuring air of calm, he resembled Alice’s first costar, Armes Beaumont, in character. The most accomplished of the other principals was Edward Connell, who had begun his career as a boy singer at the Canterbury before advancing to London’s Gallery of Illustration. His specialty was General Boum in La Grande- Duchesse de Gérolstein, a part he played so well that some critics compared him favorably with Aynsley Cook, who had originated the role in Britain. Amy Grundy was the main supporting female artist. She later became a leading lady in her own right, although never a major star. Her sister, Sarah, was also with the company but played only small parts. Two popular London comedians, Harry and Fred Payne, provided the essential low-comedy elements. Their antics were frequently singled out for favorable comment in reviews. Choreography and solo dance sequences were provided by Madame Sidonie, the wife of the company’s young Belgian conductor, Eugene Goossens. Goossens was an exceptional musician, renowned for his thorough knowledge of the scores he conducted. He subsequently achieved more enduring fame with the Carl Rosa Opera Company and became the founder of one of Britain’s most remarkable musical dynasties. Joining an already established company toward the end of a tour was probably not what Alice would have chosen. She knew next to nothing about her fellow artists and had hardly any time for preliminary rehearsals with them because they were performing in Newcastle with Dolaro until December 9.When they arrived in Liverpool the following day, Alice immediately stepped into the roles Dolaro had vacated. The city was already awash with entertainments, the weather was miserable, and the “Grand Duchess” troupe no novelty, because it had already visited Liverpool during the course of its travels. Despite these unpromising circumstances there was a gratifyingly large 70 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

Part of a handbill for Richard W.South’s “Grand Duchess” Opera Company at the Theatre Royal, Manchester, in 1877. Courtesy Kurt Gänzl. attendance at the Prince of Wales Theatre to hear Alice make her company debut as Offenbach’s Grand Duchess. Luckily it had always been one of her best roles and she made such a good impression that the Liverpool Mercury suggested she would “remind English audiences of Miss Julia Mathews in the part.” Insistent applause forced her to repeat the popular aria “Say to ALICE MAY 71

Part of a handbill for Richard W.South’s “Grand Duchess” Opera Company at the Theatre Royal, Manchester, in 1877. Courtesy Kurt Gänzl.

Him” and she was called before the curtain to take bows after every act. “Her reception was decidedly enthusiastic, and her talents appear to be of a high order” reported the Era: 72 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

Possessed in the first instance of a fine stage figure, and dressed with remarkable taste, Miss Alice May thus far secured ready admiration, and this was substantially confirmed by her vocalisation during the evening. She shows the possession of a wellcultivated voice of considerable compass and well under command; and although the natural nervousness of her English debut rather interfered occasionally with the perfect tunefulness of her singing this might well be pardoned under the circumstances…. Her style of acting is matured [sic] and commanding, and she ought to secure a good position in this country.

The critic of the Liverpool Daily Post was equally appreciative. Reviewing her second performance—which was not plagued by intonation problems—he enthused about her appearance, the “delightful piquancy and vivacity” of her acting, and her “rich, fresh voice” and declared that she was “quite evidently destined to rank with some of the best and most cultivated opéra bouffe singers of the stage.” South was delighted. Previously his company’s reputation had been based on quality and efficiency rather than excitement. Alice May added a dash of much-needed zest and sparkle. The results were immediately apparent at the box office. Within three days of Alice’s debut, he advertised that an extra row of stalls had been installed at the Prince of Wales to accommodate those who so far had failed to get seats to hear “the Great Australian prima donna.” The rest of the Liverpool season was played to full houses and business proved equally good when the company moved to Preston, the last stop on its 1876 tour. South now turned his attention to managing a Christmas pantomime, Tom, Tom, the Piper’s Son, which opened at London’s Park Theatre on Boxing Day. He also decided to keep the core members of his opéra-bouffe company together so that he could take them out into the provinces again in the new year. At first he arranged for them to play matinees at theatres where there were other evening attractions. There was always a surfeit of entertainment in London during the Christmas season, so it was hardly surprising that these daytime performances received little press coverage. There was only one major review, but it appeared in the influential Era on January 7, 1877. It dealt at length with the company’s presentation of La Grande-Duchesse de Gérolstein at the Opéra Comique four days earlier, and the focus was very ALICE MAY 73

much on Alice. After giving a few details of her earlier career for the benefit of readers who were not familiar with her name, the reviewer expressed regret that there had not been a bigger crowd to see her perform, “but just now Pantomime is in the ascendant and attracts the greatest number of playgoers.” He praised Alice’s ability to enter into the spirit of a character and noted how the audience, cold at first, steadily warmed to her as they realized her quality. His prediction was that she would soon make a mark in London because she had “all the qualifications to attract the public; a good voice, a graceful stage presence, very pleasing and characteristic attitudes, and great intelligence.” On January 8, South moved his opéra-bouffe company to the Park Theatre. It performed there until January 19 as a prelude to the pantomime, which had not been doing good business, perhaps because the Park lay outside the boundaries of the main theatre district. South clearly felt that an additional attraction was needed to entice more customers to the box office. The combination of opéra-bouffe and pantomime fared little better than pantomime alone, but it did result in another visit from the Era, this time to a performance of La Fille de Madame Angot in which Alice took the role of Mademoiselle Lange. Her playing of the part was described in glowing terms.

Her ability is altogether above the average, and few representations of the character have delineated it with so much vivacity, grace and vocal power. Miss May’s voice is sweet, rich, full, and of good compass, and her command of it enables her to execute the most elaborate music in an easy, graceful and finished manner. We welcome Miss May as an important addition to our vocalists.

If Alice was to become a star it was important for her to be favorably noticed in London; the Era reviews were an excellent beginning. Alice’s performances with South’s company showed not only that she could hold her own on the British musical stage, but that she could do so without Allen in the pit. Allen’s reaction to being excluded from association with her initial successes in England can only be surmised, but future events proved that he was unwilling to let her stray too far from his influence. Allen had masterminded Alice’s career as much for his own benefit as hers and clearly intended that they should conquer the British musical theatre 74 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

Alice May in costume for an unknown role, ca. 1875. Courtesy La Trobe Picture Collection, State Library of Victoria. world in partnership. The trouble was that she was now the more marketable commodity. Allen’s age and the fact that he had ALICE MAY 75

not been known as a theatre conductor when he left Britain counted against him. Apart from his own Castle Grim, his conducting experience before he went to the colonies had been almost exclusively in the choral and ecclesiastical fields. On his return home he found himself still pigeonholed as a church musician and composer of ballads, part-songs, and anthems. The only sure way for him to continue working in the musical theatre was through Alice. Not surprisingly, when the members of South’s “Grand Duchess” Opera Company set out on tour again, Allen went with them. He had resourcefully found himself a niche as the orchestra’s pianist. South’s troupe began its 1877 tour at the Theatre Royal, Belfast, on January 22. As usual, it opened with the ever-popular La Grande-Duchesse de Gérolstein. This drew full houses for six nights in succession, and Alice’s lively performances prompted the critic of the Belfast Evening Standard to describe her as fully the equal of Julia Mathews. She was soon such a favorite that she was greeted enthusiastically when she appeared in the title role of La Belle Hélène for her benefit on February 9. To show how much she appreciated this reception she honored the audience by singing several ballads, including Allen’s recently composed “Unrest,” during the intermissions. In return she had the dubious privilege of being presented with a poem, printed on white satin, that had been specially written for the occasion. The first of its several verses ran:

The dawn through the darkness breaks, And a rush of musical wings Winnows the air and awakes The music of things.

“After that,” commented a wit in Figaro, “the lady might be forgiven had she been ‘indisposed’ for a week or two.” From Belfast the company went on to play seasons varying between two and three weeks in length in Dublin, Liverpool, Preston, Bradford, Nottingham, Hull, Manchester, and Birmingham, before retracing its steps to give a further week of performances in Nottingham. It was welcomed warmly everywhere and attracted good houses, even in places that it had visited just a few months earlier. There was no change to the repertoire, but La Belle Hélène—hardly seen during the company’s 1876 travels— was given more often and received its local premiere in a number of centers. According to the Era’s Liverpool correspondent, her playing 76 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

of the title role “demonstrated that she is an artist of the opera bouffe school in the truest, highest sense, with fine vocal ability, keen appreciation of the lighter traits of character in this particular line, and admirable intelligence in all she undertakes” (March 11, 1877). Alice’s rapport with audiences and critics was an important ingredient in the company’s popularity. The Manchester Guardian expressed some reservations about her intonation and cautioned her against too much gesticulation, but the overwhelming majority of reviewers wrote flattering notices of her vivacity, fine figure, and technical expertise. She was an undeniable success. After its return visit to Nottingham, the “Grand Duchess” Opera Company was scheduled to begin a short season in South Shields on June 4, 1877. It never arrived, much to the fury of the local theatre manager and those who had bought tickets in advance. There was no explanation and no mention in theatrical papers of what the troupe did the following week. On June 11 it resurfaced at the Theatre Royal, Edinburgh, with an important personnel change: Allen had replaced Goossens as conductor. What happened behind the scenes will probably never be known, but the most likely explanation must be that Allen engineered a successful takeover bid, possibly by using Alice as a bargaining counter. Goossens and his wife had been with the company for over a year and served it well. Alice, however, was the troupe’s star performer and biggest draw. If the price of her continued services was a change of conductor, it was a price South was prepared to pay. Allen may not have been in the same musical league as Goossens, but he was perfectly competent, and the standards of accompaniment and general ensemble maintained under his direction were mentioned with approval in several reviews. The highlight of the company’s Edinburgh season was the city premiere of La Belle Hélène on June 13. Writing on the following day, the critic of the Scotsman thought the score “incontestably superior” to that of the more frequently heard La Grande- Duchesse and was impressed by the overall standard of the performance. Beverley “gave a good account of the music of Paris, though he made rather too free use of his falsetto,” Connell “sang with energy and effect” as Agamemnon, and a newcomer to the company, Kathleen Corri, “played and sang with abundant animation as the rollicking Orestes.” Best of all was “fair Helen of Greece herself,” who was “acted by Miss Alice May with unfailing grace, spirit and piquancy. The trying scenes with Paris in the second act were especially well interpreted, the blending of arch ALICE MAY 77 coquetry, queenly pride, and absorbing love in the actress’ manner being most effectively expressed.” By now many theatres across Britain were preparing for the holiday months. South’s company inaugurated the summer season at its next venue, the Theatre Royal, Glasgow, and was the final attraction before the holiday recess at the Theatres Royal in Manchester and Sheffield. Between July 9 and 14 it made yet another visit to the Prince of Wales Theatre, Liverpool. Alice received a rousing reception in a city where she had become a firm favorite and there was a packed house when she took her benefit on the penultimate night of the season. However, the Liverpool performances marked the end of her association with South. While her former colleagues headed back to Edinburgh to perform during the summer, she prepared to move out of her natural environment, opéra-bouffe, and back into the world of opera. Allen’s former colleague, Elliot Galer, had offered the couple engagements as conductor and prima donna for the English and grand opera season with which he planned to inaugurate his new in Leicester. Galer had begun his theatrical career as an operatic tenor but had subsequently made the transition to management. By 1873 he was sole lessee of Leicester’s Theatre Royal. At the time the city was notorious for the bad behavior of its audiences. Members of Leicester s middle and upper classes rarely attended public entertainments because they did not care to have their evenings interrupted by youths stamping their feet in the gallery and hurling apples at performers. Although Galer had managed to restore a semblance of order at the Theatre Royal, he had already decided that the only way to encourage the wealthier, more respectable members of Leicester society to attend theatrical performances was to provide them with high-quality entertainment at a new venue that would be free of bad associations. Backed by Thomas Tertius Paget, a theater-loving politician and a senior partner in Paget’s Bank, he set about building an opera house. The project took years to come to fruition, but the result was magnificent. Leicester s new Royal Opera House, located in Silver Street, was built on a generous scale and cost the formidable sum of £35,000. The architect, C.J.Phipps, incorporated many ingenious features into his design. A special arrangement of skylights with adjustable shutters allowed the theatre to be used without lighting for daytime events and the sunken orchestra pit could be raised 78 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

level with the stage for balls and promenade concerts. To guard against the ever-present hazard of fire, two huge rainwater cisterns, each holding 15,000 gallons, were installed in the roof. The lobbies and staircases were of stone rather than wood and the unusually wide passages and staircases allowed easy movement. It was Galer’s proud boast that the entire building could be cleared in five minutes if fire broke out. The Royal Opera House was designed to seat 2,550 in luxurious comfort and the furnishings and decorations were a feast for the eyes. Balconies were edged in blue velvet, seats upholstered in the same color, and the front of the dress circle was decorated with figured gold and studded with Wedgwood cameo plaques. A unique feature was a fine conservatory with a fernery and rustic fountain, which provided a cool and charming retreat during the intermissions. There was ample backstage accommodation and the building incorporated the most up-to-date technical facilities, including provision for scenery to be “flown” into the wings rather than pulled, the latter requiring the old system of grooves set into the stage. Little wonder that the official opening of the building on September 6, 1877, was one of the most splendid social occasions seen in the city for years. Galer had delegated the rehearsal and management of the opera company for his new theatre’s inaugural season to a well-known bassbaritone, Charles Durand. Durand had a useful ensemble at his disposal, with two leading ladies: Alice, to sing the opéra-bouffe and lighter operatic roles, and Madame Tonnelier for the heavier roles, especially in Italian opera. Tonnelier, who had begun life with the much plainer name of Annie Milner, was a former pupil of Mrs.Wood, and although she was older than Alice the two may well have been acquainted in their youth. The company also boasted the luxury of a third principal soprano, Edith Percy, whose main task was to sing Donna Elvira in Don Giovanni. The principal tenors were Arthur Shelley and George Travener, and the baritone soloists John Grantham, Percy’s husband, Norman Kirby, and Durand himself. The principal bass, Henry Pope, and the mezzosopranos Carina Clelland and Ella Collins completed the roster. Conducting duties were divided between Allen and Thomas Melling. The company went into rehearsal several weeks before the season opened. Galer wanted to give the people of Leicester high-quality performances and he was willing to spend extra time and money in pursuit of that aim. ALICE MAY 79

Only Allen, Clelland, and Shelley from the opera company were required at the official opening on September 6. Much of the evening was devoted to speeches by Paget, Galer, and other worthies, after which there was a miscellaneous concert featuring harp and piano solos and songs. Galer’s speech stressed his desire to give the public entertainment to which there could be no moral objection. Theatrical performances, he contended, could be immensely valuable as a medium of enjoyment and instruction. By opening with opera, he was emphasizing the higher tone he intended to establish at his new theatre. The opera season began promptly at 8 o’clock on September 10, 1877, with Gounod’s Faust. This featured Alice as Marguerite and Shelley in the title role. Kirby played Valentine, Collins took the role of Siebel, Durand sang Mephistopheles, and Allen conducted. Everything about the production was newly minted, from the scenery and costumes to the twenty-five-piece orchestra, which was very large by provincial standards. A fashionable audience crammed the brightly lit auditorium, the ladies in a rainbow of evening gowns, the gentlemen elegant in evening dress. In view of the crush, several commentators were relieved to report that the architect had made adequate provision for ventilation. All those present seemed determined to enjoy the occasion. There were resounding cheers for the band of the Leicester Militia when they appeared in the “Soldiers’ Chorus,” and the soloists took a gratifying number of curtain calls. The whole event passed off with such spirit that, according to the Leicester Daily Mercury, “it testified most encouragingly alike to the popularity of the musical drama in Leicester and to its prospects of progress and success.” Reviews the next day praised Galer’s venture, but the general consensus of opinion was that the cast was effective rather than exceptional. Alice was the only performer who stood out. The Mercury’s critic described her as “the ‘bright particular star’” of the evening. Her technical facility in the “Jewel Song” was impressive and she showed superior acting skills in the Market Place and Prison scenes. Her “brilliant interpretation” of the role proved her capacity to do justice to both the composer and the subject:

Gifted with a voice of singular purity, strength and charm, and with an enunciation at once clear and exquisitely rounded, this talented vocalist achieved a triumph of which she might well be proud. From her first appearance in the Kermesse until her last in the grand final apotheosis, her 80 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

interpretation was simply one growing and culminating success.

Several members of the company at the Royal Opera House were already familiar favorites in Leicester. Alice had never sung in the city before, but by the time Faust finished its four-night initial run she had joined them in enjoying public esteem. Allen’s efficiency and enthusiasm also made a good impression. Both maintained their popularity as the season progressed and the program of operas expanded. Alice was not required for Don Giovanni, Il Trovatore, or La Traviata, but she continued to sing in Faust and added Satanella and The Lily of Killarney to her responsibilities. In Satanella Galer made one of his now rare stage appearances in the role of Count Rupert. He was greeted with hearty cheers, but Alice was again the undoubted star of the show. Alice’s Leicester performances confirmed her status as one of the brightest newcomers on the British musical stage. When the opera season ended on October 6 and most of her colleagues set off on a provincial tour with what had now been renamed Durand’s Grand English Opera Company, Alice did not go with them. She and Allen headed back to London to prepare for the engagement that would secure their niche in theatrical history. Chapter 7 Working for D’Oyly Carte

Richard D’Oyly Carte was thirty-three years old in 1877. Since the age of twenty-five he had been running his own theatrical and concert agency in London. He organized tours, found work for an impressive list of clients, and occasionally took managerial engagements himself. Carte was a musically well educated man with a lively mind and a quirky sense of humor, who regarded the theatre as a vocation rather than simply a place to earn a living. One of his ambitions was to establish English comic opera as a more decorous but equally viable and popular alternative to French opéra-bouffe. In 1874 he had tried to run a season of works by English composers at London’s Opera Comique Theatre. It failed miserably, but this did not lessen his commitment to homegrown musical theatre. He was now preparing to launch a new comic opera and had engaged Allen as the musical director and Alice to create the principal soprano role. Carte’s latest venture had taken a long time to reach fruition. After his 1874 disaster, he realized that he needed to find an English work strong enough to compete against the best opéras- bouffes. Chance led him in the right direction. One of his clients, the soprano Selina Dolaro, asked him to manage a season for her at the Royalty Theatre. She had embarked on a revival of Offenbach’s La Périchole, but it was not proving a great success. Carte decided that an additional attraction was needed. On its own, La Périchole, provided short measure for an evening’s entertainment. He recalled a clever burlesque called Thespis; or the Gods Grown Old that he had seen at the Gaiety Theatre in 82 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

1871. The witty libretto was by a leading dramatist and comic writer, W.S.Gilbert, and the music, which matched the words to perfection, had been written by the darling of the British classical music establishment, Arthur Sullivan. Although Thespis had been unsuccessful, Carte sensed that the Gilbert and Sullivan combination possessed great potential. When Gilbert offered him a libretto that could be turned into a suitable short piece for Dolaro, he insisted on engaging Sullivan to set it. The result was a brilliant spoof of Italian opera, the comedy cantata . Premiered on March 25, 1875, it was an immediate and resounding hit. Following the success of Trial by Jury, Carte was eager to arrange another collaboration between Gilbert and Sullivan. Achieving this took all his tact and business acumen, because the two men did not have a natural empathy. Gilbert was far from easygoing. It was said of him that he was a kindhearted man who did not want anyone to know it. His bouts of philanthropy were hidden behind a querulous front and his early legal training had made him incurably litigious. Sullivan was a more emollient character. He was urbane, elegant, a frequenter of high society who could count members of the royal family among his friends. Many considered him to be England s finest composer of serious music. His involvement in Trial by Jury had already outraged some of his more humorless admirers, who considered such popular trifles a waste of his talents. By the time Carte was in a position to commission a full-length comic opera, neither composer nor librettist was keen on the idea. Gilbert was busy producing his comedy Engaged at London’s Haymarket Theatre, and Sullivan, apart from juggling a variety of projects, was mourning the sudden death of his brother Fred, the original Judge in Trial by Jury. Carte’s quiet persistence eventually carried the day. On June 5, 1877, he received a letter from Sullivan advising that he and Gilbert would write a two-act opera together in return for a fee of 200 guineas, to be paid on receipt of the manuscript, and nightly royalties of six guineas. Their decision was partly a result of their liking for Carte, who they felt had more integrity and a better appreciation of artistic matters than the usual run of theatrical managers. The new comic opera was to be called The Sorcerer. It was based on one of Gilbert’s short stories, “An Elixir of Love,” which had appeared in the Christmas 1876 issue of the Graphic. Alexis, the soldier son of Sir Marmaduke Poindextre, squire of the village of ALICE MAY 83

Richard D’Oyly Carte. Courtesy Peter Downes.

Ploverleigh, dabbles in philanthropy. Believing that marriage is of universal benefit, no matter how ill-matched the couple, he decides to celebrate his betrothal to Aline (the role played by Alice) by conferring the blessings of marriage on the rest of the village. He hires a professional sorcerer, John Wellington Wells, to introduce a “Patent Oxyhydrogen Love-at-first-sight Philtre” into the communal teapot. Everyone who drinks the resulting potion 84 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

promptly falls in love with the wrong person. Sir Marmaduke’s elderly, ultra-aristocratic admirer, Lady Sangazure, transfers her affections to the horrified Wells, Sir Marmaduke succumbs to the socially unsuitable charms of the pew opener, Mrs.Partlett, and Alexis is mortified when Aline develops an attachment to the vicar. The topsy-turvy situation is only righted when Wells agrees to sacrifice himself to the spirits of the underworld. Much of the humor in the story stemmed from Gilbert’s subtle digs at social conventions and his skill at making the extraordinary seem commonplace. Wells, for example, represents a firm of family sorcerers and treats his wares as if they were groceries, offering guarantees and discounts for quantity. Alexis, the supposed hero, turns out to be an insufferable prig, and Lady Sangazure’s insistence on the superiority of her lineage makes her pursuit of Wells, who drops his h’s and eats peas with a knife, doubly comic. The supernatural scenes, which burlesqued those in popular operas like Der Freischütz, were well calculated to amuse audiences. They also provided wonderful opportunities for the composer. Gilbert’s clever libretto unleashed Sullivan’s penchant for ingenious pastiche as well as his sunniest lyrical vein, and he tackled the originally unwanted project with gusto. Unfortunately his uncertain health caused delays in finishing the work and the opening night was postponed several times. Carte had already taken a lease on the Opera Comique in anticipation of persuading Gilbert and Sullivan to collaborate again. It was not an ideal venue. In addition to being the scene of his previous failure, it had poor facilities and was hidden, partly underground, in a cluster of shabby streets behind the Strand, the broad thoroughfare running from Charing Cross railway station to the church of St.Clement Danes. The main entrance was through a long, narrow tunnel and the stage backed onto that of another theatre, which meant performers could often hear each other through the common wall. Apart from its charmingly decorated little auditorium, the Opera Comique’s only recommendation was its availability. Because he did not have the money to mount the new comic opera at his own expense or pay Gilbert and Sullivan the advance they required before starting work, Carte scoured London for investors. He found four or five men—the number is disputed— who were willing to put up £500 apiece to become nonexecutive directors of a backing syndicate called the Comedy Opera Company. Carte was not a director himself. It would take him ALICE MAY 85

until May 1878 to raise his own £500 stake and become the company’s managing director. His initial title was general manager. To get additional capital for his venture, Carte also tried to attract shareholders: smaller investors who were not entitled to attend directors’ meetings but would, if his plans prospered, receive some kind of dividend. Apparently only three men took advantage of this opportunity; one of them was Allen. The most specific of several references to Allen’s shareholding appeared in the Era on March 5, 1881, where he was described as the “holder of five £10 shares in the Comedy Opera Company.” He had acquired them through his daughter Adeline’s husband Benjamin Dickenson, a wealthy London wine merchant, in return for a promissory note that he later failed to honor. Holding shares in the company did not guarantee Allen or Alice engagements for The Sorcerer, although it probably gave them the chance to be considered. The hard-to-please Gilbert would never have hired a performer who did not fit his conception of a role and Sullivan was equally unlikely to have accepted musical incompetence. Allen’s position as a shareholder may, however, account for comments in an Illustrated Sporting and Dramatic Review article on October 20, 1877, which implied that Gilbert and Sullivan were writing their new work specifically for Alice. This suggestion was unlikely to have come from Alice. She showed no instinct for self-promotion at any stage of her career. The source could well have been Carte himself. Both Gilbert and Sullivan were keen to avoid engaging established opéra-bouffe stars for The Sorcerer. They did not want principals who had developed characteristic mannerisms or who might insist on playing to their fans rather than being part of the ensemble. Alice suited their purposes. Her credentials were good and she was known as an energetic, vivacious performer. In addition, her reputation for clear diction meant she could fulfill Gilbert’s demands that the words be treated with the same justice as the music. She was exactly the kind of performer who could make Aline rather more feisty than the usual run of milk-and-water comic-opera heroines. But Carte knew the value of publicity Alice’s brief British career had been spent largely in the provinces. She was a newcomer to most London theatregoers and he would have been neglecting his own interests if he had not tried to promote her in advance of opening night. As part of their contract, Gilbert and Sullivan had reserved the right to choose and train the cast of The Sorcerer. Some of those 86 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

selected were personally known to them, and others—possibly including Alice and Allen—came from Carte’s agency. Richard Temple, who played Sir Marmaduke, had considerable provincial experience in both opera and opéra-bouffe and had previously appeared in two Sullivan works, The Zoo and Cox and Box. The composer probably also knew George Bentham, the tenor chosen to sing Alexis, because they had both appeared at the 1871 Gloucester Music Festival. Bentham, or Signor Bentami, as he was known in Italian opera circles, divided his time between the stage and the concert hall and was billed in advertisements for The Sorcerer as from “His Majesty’s Opera Company.” Another from the opera world was Giulia Warwick, a recent member of the Carl Rosa Opera Company. She was cast as Mrs. Partlett’s daughter, Constance, a girl who cherishes a hopeless passion for the vicar, Dr.Daly. The role of her mother, Mrs. Partlett, went to Harriet Everard, who had been playing character parts on the London stage for seventeen years and had taken part in some of Gilbert’s early burlesques. The best-known member of the cast was the Lady Sangazure, Isabelle Paul. A versatile artist, adept at everything from Shakespeare to opéra-bouffe, she had achieved her greatest fame as part of double act with her husband, Howard Paul. Although she had separated from him many years earlier and had been touring with her own company of drawing-room entertainers since 1873, she was still widely known as Mrs.Howard Paul. She possessed a splendid contralto voice and was the most generous of colleagues. Rutland Barrington, the inexperienced singer cast as Dr. Daly, owed his engagement to her efforts. He had been a member of her company since 1875, and because he still had some time to run on his contract, Paul insisted that she would only take part in The Sorcerer if Barrington was also given a role. Gilbert auditioned him and pronounced him suitable; Sullivan was too busy to hear him. If he had, he might have vetoed the engagement, because Barrington was often guilty of singing flat. Finding the right performer to play the sorcerer, John Wellington Wells, proved difficult. The eventual choice was something of a gamble. George Grossmith was a wispy young man with limited vocal skills who had followed in the footsteps of his father (also George Grossmith) by cultivating the art of delivering humorous monologues and songs to his own piano accompaniment. He was known as a concert and drawing-room artist but his only comic-opera experience had been in a benefit performance of Trial ALICE MAY 87

One of the original production photographs for The Sorcerer. This picture of the characters Alexis and Aline is generally thought to show George Bentham and Alice, who created the roles. However, some authorities suggest it is of their later replacements, George Power and Giulia Warwick. Courtesy Raymond Mander and Joe Mitchenson Theatre Collection, London. by Jury that Sullivan had attended. When asked to create the role of Wells, he was understandably hesitant. Paul convinced him that 88 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

the engagement would set him a new—and, by implication, profitable—career. She was right, for Grossmith subsequently became one of Gilbert and Sullivan’s most valued performers. Both composer and librettist had strong ideas about the way The Sorcerer should be presented and were determined to enforce their high standards. Gilbert liked to direct his own works. He had a modern attitude to the task and always worked out the blocking, pacing, and staging well in advance. He demanded a great deal from his performers. By the time Alice and her colleagues reached opening night they would have had a clear understanding of the entire work and would have been well drilled in presenting their characters exactly as Gilbert envisaged them. Sullivan was heavily involved in rehearsing the soloists but delegated much of the preparatory work with the orchestra and chorus to Allen. As the company ‘s musical director, Allen was also responsible for conducting the performances, apart, of course, from the premiere. The success of Trial by Jury and Gilbert and Sullivan’s own high reputations created a buzz of interest over The Sorcerer. The Opera Comique was crowded for the opening night on November 17, 1877, and Sullivan was loudly applauded as he entered the orchestra pit. Anticipation quickly changed to enthusiasm as the show unfolded. Alice had the honor of receiving the first encore for her pretty act 1 ballad, “Oh, Happy Young Heart.” Sir Marmaduke and Lady Sangazure’s duet “Welcome joy,” Wells’s patter song in act 1, and the act 2 quintet “I Rejoice That It’s Decided” were similarly honored. The audience, according to the Times was “diverted from the rise of the curtain to the fall, and the laughter was incessant.” Many had wondered whether the new work could possibly equal Trial by Jury. The answer “came clear and strong in the series of tremendous ovations that marked the opening performance. The scene at the end, when first the author and composer, then the manager by himself, came in front of the curtain, was a demonstration to be remembered,” recorded the music critic Herman Klein in his 1925 memoir Music and Mummers. The critic for the West London Express was almost overcome with enthusiasm:

The music is sparkling and racy, and the libretto brimming over with the refined nonsense for which Mr.Gilbert is so renowned. A very strong cast, an efficient chorus, a capital band, excellent mounting, sufficient rehearsals…and good management in all departments were all that was needed, in ALICE MAY 89

addition to its intrinsic attractions, to ensure for “The Sorcerer” a brilliant first night.

The majority of the reviews were encouraging. Some observed that Gilbert’s love-philter idea was far from original, but most felt it generated a great deal of what the Illustrated London News on November 24 called “pungent and good-humoured satire.” The Daily Telegraph of November 19 noted that “the importance of the playwright” in The Sorcerer was “at least a great as that of the musician, which, in strictness, should ever be the case.” Gilbert would have relished this observation, which was precisely in line with his own thinking. Just as gratifying were several positive comments about how well the performers worked as a team. Gilbert and Sullivan’s decision to break with tradition and avoid relying on individual “stars” had been amply justified. Sullivan’s music received a surprisingly mixed press. The ensemble numbers, the clever operatic-style opening chorus for the village yokels, Wells’s patter song, and the thrilling music of the incantation scene where he prepared his magic potion, were much admired. The ballads were largely dismissed, except Aline’s sentimental “Oh, Happy Young Heart,” which some contemporary commentators thought the pick of the score. Alice sang it, said the Illustrated London News on November 24, “with brilliant voice and execution,” and “her fine soprano voice and her cooperation generally formed an important feature in the performance of the opera.” “Oh, Happy Young Heart’ quickly became a favorite with the public. Perhaps it was the popular appeal of this and other numbers that prompted the more acid criticisms of Sullivan. The monthly journal, the Theatre for example, summed up its distaste for Sullivan’s flirtation with comic opera in one damning phrase: “It was hoped at one time that he would soar with Mendelssohn whereas he is content, it seems, to sink with Offenbach” (November 21). Alice had the misfortune to suffer a couple of similar barbs from reviewers immediately after the premiere. Queen’s description of her on November 19 as “of the Soldene school, more forcible than finished or refined” and Figaro’s disparaging comment that she had “earned her first laurels…on the vast continent of Australia; and apparently she has not yet learned to modify the scale of her accomplishments to the requirements of this very limited island” were so splendidly disparaging that several later writers on Gilbert and Sullivan used them to suggest she had been a failure 90 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

as Aline. Figaro, however, was hardly representative, because it found almost nothing good to say about the work or any of its protagonists. Overall, Alice enjoyed more favorable than unfavorable reviews. Nor were her colleagues immune from adverse comments. Reading between the lines, it seems apparent that first-night nerves did revive Alice’s tendency to overexuberance. Her performance was rather too emphatic, but at least she sang in tune, which was more than could be said for Warwick or Barrington. Grossmith was also prey to nerves at the outset, although he warmed to his work as the evening went on. Paul’s portrayal of an elderly harridan could have been more forceful, and all the reviews made allowances for Bentham, who was not well on opening night. Only Temple and Everard largely escaped criticism. The most astute evaluation of the soloists appeared in the November 19 Daily Telegraph: “There may not have been on the stage talent of the highest order, but there was a degree of all- round merit which will, in a little while, do complete justice to the opera.” Subsequent performances proved the truth of this judgment. The Era decided to see how The Sorcerer was faring a week after its premiere. Its critic marveled at how much more “refined, finished, exquisitely humorous, and altogether admirable” the presentation had become. The detailed critique of Alice showed how well she had grown into her role:

Miss Alice May never gave better proof of her artistic capacity than in the slight modifications she has made in her stage business since the opening night. There is now a certain repose in her impersonation in some of the scenes, and this brings into charming contrast those situations in which the interest mainly depends on the prima donna. Miss May seeks only to render the character naturally and artistically. Aline, as we see her now, is just the gushing, graceful, romantic girl the author intended to portray; and while Miss May’s rendering dramatically is full of grace and fascination, her vocal powers are displayed to the utmost advantage, both in the songs and the concerted music….We have only to add that Miss May has gained the entire approval of most fastidious audiences, and that she must be pronounced a great acquisition. ALICE MAY 91

The Incantation Scene from The Sorcerer. Aline and Alexis watch as John Wellington Wells prepares his magic philter. This illustration comes from the Illustrated London News of February 23, 1878. Courtesy National Library of New Zealand.

In a sense, the critics’ opinions of the work and the way it was performed hardly mattered. The verdict of the public was overwhelmingly favorable and the Opera Comique was full to capacity nearly every night. Carte’s belief in the future of English musical theatre and his faith in the partnership of Gilbert and Sullivan was vindicated by the early box-office returns. The work drew respectable women and middle-class families in droves because, unlike many English-language versions of opéras-bouffes, it did not feature sexual innuendos or nubile chorus girls. It was a thoroughly wholesome piece of theatrical entertainment and Londoners rushed to see it. Saturday matinees were quickly introduced. These were particularly attractive to women, because they could safely attend them unescorted. Carte also invited schools and individual children to attend the matinees at half price. Prebooking was not permitted, so the first few Saturdays saw queues outside the theatre, and not all could gain admission. The Sorcerer eventually ran for six months, which was an excellent result by the standards of the time. However, Alice did not stay with the show to the end; she left the cast on January 19, 92 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

1878. Her departure was no reflection on her abilities. Alice did not leave because Carte was dissatisfied with her, but because she was under contract to him, and he wanted her to play a starring role in his latest theatrical venture—one that seemed, at the time, even more promising than The Sorcerer. In fact, Carte had some difficulty replacing her in The Sorcerer. The obvious solution was for him to promote Giulia Warwick from the role of Constance, but because of her suspect intonation and lack of acting ability he preferred to try other singers first. The most successful was Madame Cave-Ashton, who sang the role of Aline for two weeks. However, she had another engagement scheduled and eventually he was forced to fall back on Warwick. Although Carte would eventually enjoy tremendous financial and artistic success as a result of his partnership with Gilbert and Sullivan, this outcome was far from obvious in early 1878. All three men were involved in a variety of other artistic enterprises. The Sorcerer was drawing good houses, but not even the optimistic Carte could predict its longterm prospects. Nor could he be sure that it heralded a long-term collaboration between composer and librettist. H.M.S.Pinafore, the work destined to make the triumvirate’s fortunes, was still several months from completion. No one dreamed that it would turn out be one of the musical theatre’s greatest and most enduring hits. Seen from the standpoint of January 1878, Carte was prudently diversifying his managerial interests by entering into a joint venture with Charles Head, the wealthy bookmaker who owned the Royal Philharmonic Theatre in the North London suburb of Islington. Once a major venue for English-language presentations of opéras-bouffes, the Royal Philharmonic had recently fallen on hard times and become a home for “reckless Managers and performers destitute of even the smallest claim to public attention,” charged the Era on January 27, 1878. Carte and Head intended to restore the theatre to its former glory. They spruced up the interior and announced that they would reopen it on January 23, 1878, with a “grand revival” of Offenbach’s Geneviève de Brabant featuring Alice in the central role of Drogan. Alice Burville would play Geneviève, Allen was to be the musical director, and advertisements stressed that the production would be under Carte’s personal supervision. According to the January 6, 1878, issue of the Era, he and his stage manager had already visited Paris “ In search of attractive accessories, and there is no doubt the piece will be mounted and dressed in the most liberal fashion.” ALICE MAY 93

The Royal Philharmonic lay outside the main London theatre district, in an area that was then far from fashionable. Despite this handicap, theatregoers in the early 1870s had happily traveled there from all parts of London to enjoy the latest comic operas. The theatre had seen the premieres of several English adaptations of opéras-bouffes, including Geneviève de Brabant (1871), La Fille de Madame Angot (1874), and Giroflé-Girofla (1874). Carte and Head were counting on the fact that the public had not forgotten those great days and would be prepared to patronize the theatre again if offered the right attraction. Geneviève de Brabant was hardly a novelty, but it was a lively and amusing work and had a certain nostalgic appeal because it had been the Philharmonic’s first big opéra-bouffe success. A strong advertising campaign ensured a crowded house for the opening night of the revival. The audience responded enthusiastically to the performance, demanding numerous encores and showering the artists with flowers and applause at the end. Afterward, many reviewers were critical of the way the dialogue had been updated with allusions to current events. Several also deplored the number of airs from other works that had been introduced into the score. All, however, agreed that the standard of presentation was exceptionally high. The Observer’s critic declared on January 27, “As a spectacle nothing so brilliant and tasteful has been yet seen on the opéra-bouffe stage in London…. The original performance, given a few years back, was poor in comparison.” He congratulated Carte and Head on the care they had taken over all aspects of the production:

Liberality of the most lavish kind, combined with perfect taste, could alone have secured the gorgeous combinations of rich costumes, the well-harmonised tints, the sparkle and brilliancy of the ensembles. The artists were equal to the occasion, and it is due to them to say that they exhibited a refinement of manner which is a welcome novelty in opera- bouffe.

The male principals were generally considered capable rather than outstanding. Guillaume Loredan as Charles Martel attracted favorable comment as much for the splendidly authentic-looking suit of chain mail he wore as for his performance. The gensdarmes, played by W.G. Bedford and Felix Bury, were a predictable hit. Their “celebrated duet was repeated again and again, until the 94 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

vocalists themselves were glad to beat a retreat.” The majority of critics found the women of a higher caliber than the men. Burville’s agreeable voice and pretty face and figure suited the title role, and Douglass Gordon was graceful and intelligent as her confidante, Brigitte, but Alice stole the show. “The engagement of Miss Alice May was a happy idea of the management” enthused the Era:

Her acting and singing as Drogan enhanced the effect of the opera immensely. Miss May was most animated throughout, and from her singing of the “pie song” in the opening scene, to her charming rendering of the “sleep song” in the last act, her vocalisation was first-rate. Miss May’s interpretation of the elegant serenade to the Duchess was admirable, and her dramatic skill was displayed with the best possible results in every instance.

Only one incident marred opening night. The eccentric dance for a quartet of shapely ballerinas that was a feature of the last act had scarcely begun before two youths in the gallery, obviously unaware that the management was trying to clean up the theatre’s image, started pelting the performers with oranges. The dance was quickly modified to be less titillating and subsequent performances at the theatre were strictly policed. These efforts to stamp out unruliness reassured the better-class audiences that Carte and Head sought to attract. Within days, fashionable London was flocking to the Philharmonic. Geneviève de Brabant proved that a first-class entertainment could draw full houses, even when presented in an out-of-the-way location. The ink was scarcely dry on the reviews before the true purpose behind the reopening of the Royal Philharmonic Theatre became clear. Lecocq’s latest comic opera, Le Petit Duc, was premiered at the Théâtre de la Renaissance in Paris on January 25, 1878. Two days later the Era announced that Head had secured the British rights to the work and that he and Carte would shortly present it at the Royal Philharmonic with Alice as the teenage Duc de Pathenay, the “little duke” of the title. The scriptwriting duo of Clement Scott and B.C.Stephenson, working under their pseudonyms of “Saville and Bolton Rowe,” had been hired to prepare an English adaptation, and rehearsals would begin as soon as it was ready. Geneviève de Brabant had been intended, it transpired, as a short-lived attraction that would entice the public ALICE MAY 95

back to the Philharmonic and reestablish the theatre’s credentials as a venue for opéra-bouffe. Geneviève exceeded expectations, however. It continued to prosper through February and March. Meanwhile, there was a constant stream of publicity about the work scheduled to replace it. Readers of the theatrical columns in London newspapers were told how good Le Petit Duc was, how much of a success it was proving in Paris, and how it was expected to be just as much of a hit with English audiences as the same composer’s much-loved La Fille de Madame Angot. The fact that Lecocq had approved certain alterations to the final act and written new entr’acte music to cover them was widely publicized. Cast details were gradually leaked to tantalize the public. The biggest coup was the engagement of Harry Paulton for the principal comic role of the little duke’s pedantic tutor, Frimousse. Paulton had been almost a fixture at London’s Alhambra Theatre, where he had enjoyed a string of successes since 1872. He was regarded as Britain’s foremost musical comedian and was immensely popular with the public. Alice Burville would play the little duke’s even younger duchess and Edward Wingrove his hard-bitten martial arms instructor, Montlandry. The seriocomic role of the Directress of the convent to which the duchess was sent immediately after her wedding, because her parents believed that she and her new husband were too young to consummate their marriage, went to the Australian singer Emma Chambers. Rehearsals for the show began in the last week of March. They ran in conjunction with Geneviève de Brabant, which was doing so well that the management had decided to keep it on as long as possible. The London premiere of Le Petit Duc eventually took place on April 27, 1878, the Saturday before Easter. Contrary to all expectations, it was a failure. There were several reasons why. The most obvious, and the one stressed by all reviewers, was the length of the piece. The first-night performance lasted until well after midnight. Everyone agreed that the libretto needed severe pruning. Also, although the majority of the critics thought the story amusing, a few took exception to the subject matter. Another contributory factor was the miscasting of Paulton and Alice. Paulton was a wonderful comedian but he did not have the vocal technique to do justice to the music in Le Petit Duc and his performance proved a disappointment. The sparkling title role should have suited Alice, despite the fact that she was too mature to be a convincing adolescent boy. Instead, it was a disaster for 96 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

her. She was ridiculed for affecting a burnt cork moustache. Worse, playing the part of a very young man seemed to unleash the overexuberant tendencies she had always struggled to keep in check. Put simply, she failed to recognize the difference between Offenbach’s bouncy little pastry cook, Drogan, in Geneviève de Brabant and the youthful aristocrat of Lecocq’s Le Petit Duc. The most telling criticism of her performance appeared in the Daily Telegraph on May 2; it noted that she was less good in her new role than she had been in the more “pronounced characters” of opéra-bouffe:

In both acting and singing she is too effusive, never permitting herself or her audience a moment’s repose. This may be all very well amid the sustained bustle of the lower form of entertainment, but scarcely suits the stage of opera comique. Miss May should remember the fact, and try what a little finesse and refinement will do. She may depend upon it nobody is likely to complain of the change.

Alice’s inability to make the transition from a broadly drawn character to one of greater subtlety put a temporary dent in her rising reputation and resulted in some of the worst reviews of her career. However, Alice was not the only one who had difficulty coming to terms with the style of Lecocq’s latest work. Critics likened the music of Le Petit Duc to Auber rather than Offenbach and noted that it was more sophisticated and demanding than most of the French comic-opera scores Londoners had embraced in the recent past. Some of the numbers made an immediate impression: the love duet and the chorus of pages, “Poor Little Duke,” in act 1; the delectable “Singing Lesson” scene in act 2; and Montlandry’s act 3 “Song of the Drummer,” for example. But the work did not have an instantaneous impact on audiences. Its airs were not whistled and sung in the streets, or played by barrel organs and buskers. D’Oyly Carte and Charles Head were left wondering whether Le Petit Duc, which had succeeded so well in Paris, was perhaps too elegantly “French” for British taste. The poor reviews caused repercussions at the box office. Ticket sales plummeted. In vain, the management explained that the work had been put on without a dress rehearsal, so there had been no chance to judge the overall effect and make modifications before opening night. Even when the theatrical press reported that the ALICE MAY 97

presentation had been much improved, attendance remained disappointing. Rather than lose any more money, Head and Carte closed the production on May 25. Head marked the occasion by putting angry notices in the newspapers, inviting members of the theatrical profession to attend the final performance, “so that they may form their own opinion of the opera before it is consigned to oblivion, and see the result of an effort to cater for an enlightened public on the part of a capitalist.” Ironically, the same day that Le Petit Duc closed, H.M.S.Pinafore sailed onto the stage of the Opera Comique for the first time. Alice had made a very bad bargain when she left The Sorcerer to take part in Carte’s Royal Philharmonic venture. Surprisingly, some entrepreneurs still had faith in Le Petit Duc. The work’s publishers persuaded Samuel Hayes, lessee and manager of the St. James’s Theatre in London’s West End, that it might be better appreciated if it was presented in the main theatre district. Carte, who was fully occupied with Pinafore and his new venture of a Sorcerer touring company, had no further interest in the piece and was happy for Head to sign an agreement allowing Hayes to take over the production. There was talk of Alice’s being replaced by Selina Dolaro, but in the end she kept her role. Chambers and Wingrove also remained from the original cast, but J.D. Stoyle took over from Paulton and Burville was replaced by Ethel Pierson. The transferred production opened on June 17, 1878, to much improved reviews. The performance was excellent, the revised libretto—for which Saville and Bolton Rowe disclaimed any responsibility—was immeasurably tighter, and, above all, “Miss Alice May, who was not quite herself in the original representation, was…brilliantly successful. She sang and acted with great effect as the Little Duke, and more than one of the many encores fell to her share,” the Era of June 23 reported. But hopes that a change of venue would bring a change of fortune were not realized; the public patronized the Italian grand opera season at Her Majesty’s and H.M.S. Pinafore at the Opera Comique. They did not flock to see Le Petit Duc at the St. James’s Theatre. Even the weather conspired against the work. The second week of the run saw the beginning of an unprecedented heat wave that adversely affected all London theatres. Few people were prepared to pay for the privilege of spending hours sweltering in poorly ventilated auditoriums. It was even reported that one unlucky drama company played an evening performance to a solitary spectator. Hayes and his 98 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

associates were not easily daunted, however. They persisted with Le Petit Duc until July 22. By then, some theatres were closing for the summer and others were making ready for their special August bank holiday attractions. Hayes announced that his annual, end-of-season benefit performance would take place at the Queen’s Theatre on August 1, when he would present a mammoth bill of “Three Operas in One Evening.” The proceedings would begin with the first two acts of Le Petit Duc, followed by Offenbach’s one-acter, The Rose of Auvergne. The final item would be Charles Dibdin’s popular ballad opera The Waterman, starring as the hero, Tom Tug, and Alice as Wilhelmina, the girl he wants to marry. Both Sims Reeves and The Waterman were regarded as national treasures. Reeves was the most illustrious English tenor of his day. He had appeared successfully in opera and on the concert platform and was a favorite oratorio soloist. He was also well known for canceling performances at the last minute. Some theatrical commentators suggested that the words “may’ or “might” should always be added whenever he was scheduled to appear. His reputation for unreliability did not deter the public and his name on a program virtually guaranteed a full house. The Waterman was an unpretentious little piece that had never been out of public favor since its first performance in London in 1774. Its score was an attractive mixture of original airs by Dibdin and arrangements of traditional sea songs. The simple plot concerned Wilhelmina’s efforts to decide between her two suitors, the foppish Robin and the poor but worthy Thames waterman, Tom —a decision complicated by the fact that her argumentative parents each favor a different suitor. The role of Tom included two splendid ballads, “And Did You Not Hear of a Jolly Young Waterman” and “Farewell, My Trim-Built Wherry.” These were supplemented by well-loved numbers such as Arne’s patriotic “Rule Britannia” and as many stirring nautical ballads as the singer playing the part cared to interpolate. Tom was a gem of a role for a singer with a fine voice to show off and Reeves was one of its most notable exponents. There had not been a major revival of The Waterman in London since 1870, so there was no shortage of theatregoers wanting to see it. Hayes had cleverly chosen the performance date of August 1 to gain maximum publicity for his benefit program. The Waterman’s subtitle was The First of August; this was the day of the traditional ALICE MAY 99

annual watermen’s race, known as Doggett’s Coat and Badge Race, on the river Thames. Tom secured Wilhelmina’s hand in the opera by winning this race and dedicating his victory to her. The carefully planned coincidence had the audience in high good humor even before the performance began. The truncated version of Le Petit Duc was received with an enthusiasm it had seldom enjoyed during its unhappy seasons at the Royal Philharmonic and the St. James’s; The Rose of Auvergne also went down well. By the time Sims Reeves made his appearance in The Waterman, the atmosphere in the theatre verged on the ecstatic. Reeves was in good voice and favored the packed house with several additional items, including John Braham’s classic ballad, “The Death of Nelson.” The audience happily encored everything he sang. Alice had only to play up to him to ensure success. This she did expertly, scoring an encore of her own with a sweetly sung performance of the well-known English folksong “Where Are You GoingTo, My Pretty Maid?’ In a nice touch, she presented Reeves with a wreath of flowers. There was a plenty of humor, a great many spontaneous pieces of comic business, and a decidedly beginning-of-the-holidays feel about the whole occasion. Those present loved every moment of it. Hayes’s benefit evening was Alice’s last known engagement for 1878.Summer entertainments were now coming into their own. John Hollingsworth would shortly create a sensation by illuminating the entrance to London’s famous Gaiety Theatre with the new electric light. H.M.S.Pinafore had weathered an uncertain start and was now firmly established at the Opera Comique. Les Cloches de Corneville (more usually billed under its English title The Chimes of Normandy), with Emma Chambers, Cora Stuart, and Harry Paulton, was settling in for a long run at the Globe Theatre, and Emily Soldene, just back from an Australasian tour, was playing Geneviève de Brabant with her company at the Alhambra. But Alice, who had enjoyed scarcely any time to rest in the last eighteen months, took the summer off. Chapter 8 Ally Pally to the Alhambra

Alice was now in her early thirties. Her voice was in its prime, she had proved herself an adaptable performer with considerable audience appeal, and, although not as slim as in her colonial days, she still cut a fine figure onstage. The initial failure of Le Petit Duc had done little to damage the good reputation she had built up since her British debut with Richard W.South’s company two years earlier. Although she had some way to go before she could call herself the equal of such top-ranking musical stars as Emily Soldene or Constance Loseby, she was indisputably a leading lady. This did not mean she earned an astronomical salary. In 1885, a writer on British theatrical finances noted that “in opera-bouffe a a popular prima donna can command £40–50 a week and a leading comedy actress £20–40.”Although this was good money by the standards of the day, it was little enough given the uncertainties of a profession with no pension provisions and where there were often long periods of unemployment between one engagement and the next. A theatrical career did not provide an easy life. In an article in the Illustrated Times on February 13, 1864, the playwright T.W.Robertson contended that a leading lady, especially one engaged on a provincial tour, worked harder than “schoolmistresses, governesses, shopgirls, milliners, cooks, housemaids, laundresses and charwomen.” Rehearsals, caring for her wardrobe—the basics of which she had to provide herself— learning new roles while playing a different work each night, packing up her belongings and moving on to a different town and a ALICE MAY 101

different set of lodgings almost every week, seldom having time for more than one good meal a day and rarely in bed until after midnight because of the inordinate length of theatre programs— all of these factors created a working environment characterized by drudgery rather than glamour. Robertson’s comments were as relevant in the late 1870s as they had been in 1864 and although he was talking about dramatic actresses, the conditions for a leading lady in musical theatre were very similar. Those lucky enough to land a long run in a single work could enjoy a slightly easier life, but even the greatest stars spent a substantial portion of their careers on the road. “The power that sustains the actress through her enormous daily and nightly task,” wrote Robertson, “is the artiste’s nervous irritability, love of applause, and the hope of future fame—that hope so delusive that, in green-room diction, it is called The Phantom/” So far, “The Phantom” hope seemed to be coming true for Alice. By 1879 it had swept her to the brink of stardom. Yet at the very point when she should have been building on her success, she began marking time in order to continue working with Allen. Their first engagement for the year was with an ad hoc company at the Alexandra Palace, a huge yellow-brick, iron-and-glass edifice on the crest of London’s Muswell Hill. The “Ally Pally,” as it was popularly known, was the centerpiece of 220-acre Alexandra Park, which had been conceived as a place of recreation and amusement for the people of North London. Inside the Alexandra Palace, visitors could enjoy everything from operas and ballad concerts to boxing matches and flower shows. The surrounding parklands offered walking tracks, picnic areas, boating lakes, and a race course, as well as a variety of outdoor entertainments. Alexandra Park and Palace were at their busiest on public holidays. Thousands of pleasure seekers braved unseasonably chilly weather on Easter Monday, 1879, to sample the attractions provided. These included hansom-cab races, a wrestling tournament, music from the bands of the Royal Artillery and Grenadier Guards, and the heart-stopping thrills of “Maraz the Aerial Diver,” who made “his Eagle Swoop of 100 feet” at six o’clock in the afternoon. A specially formed opéra-bouffe company, conducted by Allen and starring Alice as Mademoiselle Lange and Alice Burville as Clairette, presented Lecocq’s La Fille de Madame Angot at 2:30 and 6:30 P.M. in the Great Hall of the Palace. A “grand fireworks display” crowned the day at 9:30 in the evening. Adverse weather favored the indoor entertainments. 102 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

Alice, as depicted in the Illustrated Sporting and Dramatic News, of October 20, 1877.Courtesy David N.Stone.

“Miss May’s Opéra-Bouffe Troupe” proved so popular that dozens had to be turned away from the matinee. The evening performances on Easter Monday and Tuesday played to near- capacity houses. La Fille de Madame Angot was occasionally revived at the Alexandra Palace during April, May, and June. Each time Alice was the star. Apart from Felix Bury, who played Pomponnet, the other cast members changed constantly as singers found themselves better or more permanent engagements. Alice, however, seemed to be biding her time. The most likely reason was ALICE MAY 103

that she and Allen were hoping to find further employment together. Eventually she could wait no longer. In a career move worthier of her talents, she accepted a contract with the opéra- bouffe company at the Alhambra Theatre. The Alhambra, an ornate, Moorish-style building on the eastern side of Leicester Square, had long been famed for its spectacular musicaltheatre productions. It achieved notoriety in 1870, when the cancan made its first London appearance there—an event that landed the manager, Frederick Strange, in trouble with the licensing authorities for permitting “an indecent dance” to be performed. Strange and his successors had turned the Alhambra into one of the city’s principal venues for English-language versions of opéras-bouffes. These were lavishly mounted and garnished with interpolated ballets of extravagant length and magnificence. Even after production costs bankrupted one manager, the policy continued. When Charles Morton was hired to run the theatre in 1877, he made opulence his stock-in-trade. The Alhambra’s orchestra, under its musical director, , was superb; the costumes, stage effects, and scenery were stunning. There was an excellent corps de ballet, and the soloists, both for ballet and opéra-bouffe, were of top quality. Alice joined the Alhambra company in mid-July 1879, in time for the company members’ annual excursion, a sea trip to Boulogne on July 20 that nearly ended in disaster when the pleasure boat they had hired ran into a violent gale in the English Channel. Unable to put into Boulogne or turn and run for the shelter of the Thames, the excursionists were forced to ride out the storm. The sorry and seasick boating party finally reached shore the following morning. Several members of the company needed medical treatment before they traveled back to London, but Alice apparently survived the ordeal unscathed. She was soon in the thick of rehearsals for a summer-season revival of Offenbach’s La Princesse de Trébizonde The work was not new to London audiences. It had been first produced at the Gaiety Theatre in 1870, where it ran successfully for nearly three months. Since then it had enjoyed a brief return to the capital as well as a lengthy provincial tour, but had been largely overshadowed by more celebrated Offenbach works. The 1879 revival starred the Alhambra’s personable reigning prima donna, Constance Loseby, as Prince Raphael, the role she had played in the original 1870 Gaiety production. She was supported by an excellent cast, which included J.Furneaux Cook as Raphael’s fussy father, Prince Casimir, and Frank Hall as his muddle-headed 104 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

and put-upon tutor, Doctor Sparadrap. Charles Collette scored a great success in the central role of Cabriolo, the wax-museum proprietor who comes up in the world when he wins a chateau in a lottery. The work was beautifully staged, in true Alhambra style. A delectable ballet was introduced into the last act at the point where Cabriolo’s wax figures come to life, and one of the theatres famous dance spectaculars, Le Carnaval à Venise, rounded off the evening s entertainment. In India, Alice had played the breeches role of Prince Raphael. For the Alhambra revival she was cast as Cabriolo’s daughter, Zanetta, the girl who captures the young prince s heart. Although the part was new to her, it suited her bouncy personality admirably. Loseby and Collette naturally received more attention from reviewers but, as the Era of August 10 put it, “We must not overlook the musical merits of Miss Alice May, who, making her first appearance at this theatre, had the good fortune at once to secure the approval of the audience.” La Princesse de Trébizonde ran from August 4 to the end of September, 1879. Its unexpected success was largely the result of the wet summer weather, which caused many Londoners to abandon their seaside holidays and scurry back to town in search of drier diversions. There was, nevertheless, no question of extending the run. La Princesse de Trébizonde had been intended only as a summer attraction. Charles Morton had already made plans to launch the Alhambra’s main theatrical season with a flourish by securing the rights to the latest work by Charles Lecocq, the popular composer of La Fille de Madame Angot, Giroflé-Girofla, Le Petit Duc, and a host of other comic operas. His La Petite Mademoiselle had been premiered in Paris just six months earlier. It made its London debut on October 6, 1879, in an English adaptation by Robert Reece and H.S.Leigh. The action of the piece was set in mid-seventeenth-century France during the Fronde, the revolts against the administration of Cardinal Mazarin. The “petite mademoiselle” of the title was the widowed young Countess Cameroni. Angry at Mazarin’s efforts to force her into marriage with her late husband’s brother, she has espoused the revolutionary cause, only to fall in love with a young officer, the Marquis of Manicamp, who has been sent to apprehend her. They are eventually permitted to marry, but not before the Countess has adopted an increasingly unlikely range of disguises and has played a part in the Siege of Paris. The subplots and comic relief that give color to the basic love story involve an assortment of ALICE MAY 105

Robert Reece, who was responsible for the English adaptations of several works in which Alice appeared, including La Petite Mademoiselle. Picture from the Illustrated’ London News of July 18, 1891. Courtesy National Library of New Zealand.

ordinary Parisian citizens, notably the innkeeper, Taboureau; his wife, Jacqueline; and the sausage maker, Madelon—to whom Manicamp, dis- guised in pursuit of his pretty Countess, is briefly apprenticed. La Petite Mademoiselle disappointed the Alhambra’s management. It ran only for a respectable but by no means exceptional seventy-five nights before being replaced by a more potentially lucrative Christmas show. The work rather than the production was to blame. The historical events underlying the story were unfamiliar to British audiences and the plot was so complex that reviewers felt Reece and Leigh had done well to make 106 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

it even moderately comprehensible. Reactions to the music varied. The Illustrated London News considered it “throughout lovely and sympathetic,” but The Times better reflected public opinion when it concluded that the score did not “display its author s talents in a new or striking light.” Despite “some charming tunes and a few cleverly though slightly constructed pieces of concerted music,” it was too often a pale imitation of the same composer’s La Fille de Madame Angot. The overall verdict was that the score lacked originality. It was pleasant but ultimately unmemorable. All the critics agreed, however, that La Petite Mademoiselle was magnificently presented and sung. The Times declared that the storming-of-Paris scene at the end of the second act was staged far more spectacularly in London than it had been in Paris and fully deserved the enthusiastic applause it received each evening. A nice touch was provided by the introduction of some pretty period dances that showed off the many elegant costumes and settings to perfection. The chorus was strong and reliable, the orchestra well up to the expected Alhambra standard, and the cast of principals could scarcely have been bettered. Constance Loseby played the title role with her customary grace and spirit. The country s favorite musical theatre comedian, Harry Paulton—returning to the Alhambra for the first time since he had been lured away to play alongside Alice in Le Petit Duc—scored a notable hit as Taboureau, and Emma Chambers proved a good foil as Jacqueline. The surprise packet among the performers was twenty-four-year- old Fred Leslie, who made his Alhambra debut in the role of Manicamp. An artist of great versatility and exceptional audience appeal, he quickly became a major draw. Leslie went on to play leading roles at the Alhambra for many years and eventually took over Paulton’s mantle as Britain’s most popular musical comedian. Alice was cast as Madelon, a decision that suggested the management saw her future lying in character roles rather than youthful heroines. According to the Era of October 12, she “acquitted herself admirably. The music allotted [to her] received full justice, and in her acting Miss May merited hearty praise.” She scored such a success with “Life’s a Game of Chance,” one of the numbers specially written for the London production by Georges Jacobi and Robert Reece, that it was quickly published as a drawing-room song. Alice did not stay with the production of La Petite Mademoiselle through to the end of its run, missing the final week of performances in order to begin rehearsals for a ALICE MAY 107

starring role in the pantomime Dick Whittington at Manchester’s Theatre Royal. By the late nineteenth century the annual Christmas pantomime had become a British theatrical institution. Entrepreneurs all over the country vied to see who could put on the most spectacular show, and many provincial managers breathed easier as the festive season drew near, knowing they could rely on the drawing power of a good pantomime to replenish their coffers and stave off their most pressing creditors. Over the years this peculiarly British form of entertainment had acquired a number of conventions. The romantic male lead, known as the “principal boy,” was always played by an attractive young woman, and the best female comic role, the “pantomime dame,” by a man. The plots, derived from traditional tales such as Puss-in-Boots, Aladdin, or Cinderella, were so elaborately embroidered that often very little apart from the original name remained. Pantomime’s mixture of singing, dancing, spectacular settings, romance, and knockabout comedy appealed to all levels of society, but was particularly popular with the working classes. The Theatre Royal, Manchester, had long been renowned for the quality of its Christmas entertainments. Dick Whittington, based on the part factual, part fictional story of a poor apprentice who became lord mayor of London, was the first pantomime to be mounted by the theatre’s s new managers, Messrs. Duffield and Lawton. Determined to outdo anything achieved by their predecessors, they threw money and resources into the show. Two Alhambra stars were hired for principal roles: Alice to play Dick’s sweetheart, Alice Fitzwarren, and Charles Collette to dispense comic villainy as Simon Slyboots, the idle, malicious apprentice who also aspires to Alice’s hand. A popular provincial comedian, Fred J. Stimson, played the “dame” role of Sarah, the ill-favored cook who is making eyes at Simon. To allow for plenty of spectacle, only the show’s opening and closing scenes were set in London. Magic intervention whisks Alice Fitzwarren, Dick (played by the vivacious Kate Lawler), and Dick’s cat (the clever and engaging Master Harry Lupino) to a succession of exotic locations. On their fantastic journey they survive shipwreck, a near-fatal encounter with the “Fiery Phantom’s Fearful Furnace,” a visit to the beautiful but icy region of the “Fairies’ Glaciarium,” and a sojourn at the magnificent court of the King of Barbary. This particular scene included the most splendid of the productions many special effects: the sudden appearance of a 108 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

staircase stretching beyond the top of the proscenium into the flies, down which gorgeously attired courtiers paraded to a rising crescendo of applause. At the end of the pantomime Dick and Alice are transported back to London in time for their wedding and Dick’s elevation to Lord Mayor. With the exception of some music hall songs sung by the comic characters, the score for Dick Whittington was the work of the Theatre Royal’s resident musical director, John Crook. The book and lyrics were by F.W.Green and John F.McArdle, an industrious pair of authors who, between them, were responsible for nearly a dozen other pantomimes running in British theatres over the 1879– 80 Christmas season. Their efforts won favor with press and public alike. As the Manchester City News put it on December 27: “We do not remember sitting out a pantomime with the same feeling of enjoyment. It is long but not tedious; it dazzles without fatiguing, and it is full of fun, but fun without coarseness.” From the moment it opened on December 20, 1879, Dick Whittington did extraordinarily well at the box office. Its appeal was quickly enhanced by some judicious pruning of the text, and by the third week of the season the management could advertise that “31,279 persons have already paid to witness this Grand Pantomime.” The claim may have been exaggerated, but there was no doubting the popularity of the show. Dick Whittington comfortably outdrew the rival pantomime at the Prince’s Theatre, and many patrons reputedly saw it several times over. When the management announced that the season would end on February 28, 1880, to make way for other bookings, there was a frantic last- minute rush for tickets. Manchester had never known such a successful Christmas entertainment. Although Dick Whittington was Alice s first excursion into pantomime, she adapted quickly to the demands of the genre and made a significant contribution to the show success success. Admittedly the critic of the Manchester Guardian found her acting a trifle artificial, but he was delighted with her singing. So was the Era’s Manchester correspondent, who noted that “the vocal honours in the sentimental passages are almost exclusively carried off by Miss Alice May, whose admitted excellence as a vocalist received the fullest illustration in the various airs allotted her.” The Manchester Evening News praised her performance unreservedly:

Who could fail to be devoted to so charming a face, so perfect a figure, and so lovely a voice as sweet Alice possesses? Miss ALICE MAY 109

Alice May plays her part exactly as such a part ought to be played. Her singing is excellent—most unusually so—and though she is full of “go,” she never vulgarises the character, or indulges in the slightest trace of objectionable fastness.

Given the warmth of her reception in the city and the fact that Allen had recently arrived to join her there, it was hardly surprising that Alice agreed to stay on and take a starring role in the Theatre Royal’s Easter revival of The Sultan of Mocha. This was Manchester s own comic opera. Its original book and lyrics had been written by a local man, Alfred Jarret, and the score composed by Alfred Cellier when he was musical director of the city’s Prince’s Theatre. The work had been premiered in 1874, and although it had been produced since in London and elsewhere, it retained a special place in the affections of the Manchester public. Dolly, the heroine, was a delightful embodiment of British womanhood: principled, clever enough to thwart any opponent, and sturdily independent. Her song about women’s rights, (“Woman strong minded is not to be blinded by man when he’s minded to make her his slave”) must have struck a chord with many Victorian wives and daughters. Peter, her sailor suitor, was an equally upright figure, and the assorted comic villains—Dolly’s slave-trading uncle, Captain Flint; her rejected suitor, Sneak; and the amorous Sultan of the title, who wants to add her to his harem —were varied enough to satisfy every taste. With its punning dialogue and ballad-influenced score, the work was an early example of the English style of comic opera soon to be synonymous with Gilbert and Sullivan. The Theatre Royal’s revival of The Sultan of Mocha opened on March 29, 1880, Easter Monday. It featured Alice as Dolly and her former Dick Whittington colleague, Fred J.Stimson, as Flint. George Fox played the Sultan, Allen Thomas the duplicitous Sneak, and Frederic Wood was Peter. Thomas and Stimson delighted audiences with their topical quips about the current election campaign, but Alice was the critics’ favorite. The Era of April 11 described her as “the most captivating Dolly the opera has ever had…. She has taken the public by storm in the part, for she not only looks divine, but sings with a brilliancy and acts with a piquancy that are rarely found in combination.” The Sultan of Mocha did steady business for a fortnight. At the beginning of the third week, an intriguing aperitif utilizing the same soloists was added. Sage and Onions, a one-act burletta 110 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

(literally, a “little joke,” a type of English farce) with words by Alfred Maltby and music by the Theatre Royal’s own maestro, John Crook, received its premiere on April 12, 1880. The plot, based on a popular farce called The Goose with the Golden Eggs, concerned the machinations of Mr. Turby (Stimson), a tight-fisted attorney who wants to marry off his beautiful daughter Clara (played by Alice) to his business colleague, Flickster (Thomas). She, however, loves her fathers clerk, Bonsor (Wood). Clara’s eccentric aunt has sent her a goose. It arrives in such an overripe condition that, after being passed on from one character to another like an unwanted parcel, it is eventually thrown away. Comic chaos ensues when Turby finds a note advising that the goose had been stuffed with £500 as a present to Clara from her aunt. He and Flickster search for the bird among the city’s refuse. They offer a reward, only to find themselves besieged by a chorus of rubbish collectors bearing dozens of decaying geese for inspection. When the right bird is finally located it turns out to have no money inside. The eccentric aunt had changed her mind before dispatching it and sent Clara a check instead. Now that she is a woman of independent means, Clara can marry the man of her choice. The curtain falls on Clara and Bonsor’s happiness and the discomfiture of Turby and Flickster. Sage and Onions was a bright and tuneful piece. The choruses were particularly good and there were some delightful solo songs, notably “This Morn When I Awoke,” in which Clara expressed her joy at becoming a wealthy woman, It was a promising start for Crook, who went on to greater things with his three-act comic opera, The Kings Dragoons, and subsequently enjoyed a long career as one of Britain’s leading composers of burlesque and musical-comedy songs. The managers of the Theatre Royal were so impressed by the success of their homegrown double bill that they decided to try their luck with a hastily organized tour of The Sultan of Mocha. Alice appeared in the first two centers visited, Leicester and Brighton, and then left the cast and returned to London. Alice’s return to the metropolis came none to soon; her extended stay in the provinces had done nothing for her career prospects. A provincial premiere meant little in the capital, nor did a string of favorable provincial reviews. Worse, the fickle London public was apt to forget those who stayed away from the city too long. By remaining in Manchester after the end of the pantomime season, Alice had not only lost ground to her competitors but missed the ALICE MAY 111

chance of being cast in any of London’s post-Christmas shows. She did not obtain another engagement until the 1880 winter season. This time her contract was with Alexander Henderson, husband of the burlesque star Lydia Thompson and one of the most important musical theatre producers in London. On October 30, 1880, at the Globe Theatre, Henderson launched the British premiere of the latest Parisian success, Louis Varney’s Les Mousquetaires au couvent. Varney was the latest in a long line of French composers to be touted as Offenbach’s natural successor. Like most of those before him, he turned out to be nothing of the kind. He was a sound musician of no particular originality, whose greatest attribute was a talent for writing catchy tunes. Les Mousquetaires was his first full-length work and, by some margin, his most successful. It was based on the same well-used story that had provided the plot for Rossini’s opera Le Comte Ory. Two musketeer officers, Gontran (Henry Bracy) and Brissac (Frank Celli), disguise themselves as monks in order to steal Gontran’s beloved, Marie (Mademoiselle Sylvia) and her sister, Louise (Elsie Moore), away from the convent where they are being educated. Inevitably their scheme goes comically awry, but when it transpires that the monks whose habits they have stolen are revolutionaries plotting against Cardinal Richelieu, the young men find themselves rewarded rather than punished for their actions. Although Gontran and Marie were the romantic leads, the plum roles were the more comical ones: Brissac (a major success for the ebullient Celli), Gontran’s old tutor, the Abbé Bridaine (splendidly played by Harry Paulton), and Simone, the servant at the village inn. This was the part assigned to Alice. Simone provided the only feminine interest in the first act and had two fine songs and a number of comic opportunities with which to make an impression. Unfortunately Alice, reverting to her old fault of overacting, tried to make too much of an impression. She received rather mixed reviews as a result. The Observer came down in her favor, concluding that she “greatly strengthened the piece by her clever singing and piquant acting,” but the Era thought that “she did more harm than good by making her character so obtrusive.” The verdict on the work itself was equally equivocal. Some critics grumbled that the music lacked individuality. Others thought the piece vulgar, largely because of a scene in which Brissac, fueled by wine from the convent cellars, preaches a drunken sermon on profane love. The public, always the ultimate 112 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

arbiters of taste, seemed happy to patronize the show, although attendance dropped when Celli took a few days off to recover from the damage caused when a fishbone stuck in his throat. In the end, Les Mousquetaires lasted a creditable three months. What destroyed any chance of a longer run was the weather. January 1881 was one of the coldest months ever recorded in London. Snowdrifts blocked the streets, transport ground to a halt, and arctic temperatures kept all but the hardiest indoors. Several theatres shut for business until the weather improved. The company at the Globe played on, although there were sometimes more people on stage than in the auditorium. Henderson finally closed Les Mousquetaires au couvent on 22 January. Alice filled in February with a few guest appearances in the title-role of La Grande-Duchesse de Gérolstein at Liverpool’s Bijou Theatre and then returned to London to take up a new engagement at the Alhambra. By this time Alice seemed firmly settled in the capital. The 1881 census showed her living with Allen at 18 Harrington Square, a convenient location within walking distance of Regent’s Park and a comfortable cab ride from the main theatre district. The building was divided into three sets of furnished lodgings. Alice and Allen had one, the boarding house keeper lived in another, and the third was home to a widowed lawyer and his son. Living in lodgings was a sensible solution for busy theatricals. Meals were provided and there was no need to buy linen and furniture or to hire servants. Harrington Square was a respectable, middle-class address. The other boarding houses in the vicinity were tenanted by clerks, solicitors, and similar professionals, or by people involved in socially acceptable trades such as millinery. Nearby householders included an accountant, a retired barrister, and a singing teacher, Henry Lane. Allen’s main income at this time probably also came from teaching singing. He was not in demand as a conductor and although the census described him as a “musical composer,” his works no longer figured regularly in the review columns of the musical press. Most of his recent creative energies had been lavished on a new comic opera, The Wicklow Rose. He had seized the chance to promote this work in Manchester during Alice’s engagement in The Sultan of Mocha the previous year. After a successful runthrough in front of a panel of local critics, the Era of April 25, 1880, reported that it had been accepted for future performance at the Theatre Royal, Manchester. By the end of 1881 ALICE MAY 113

the projected premiere had still not taken place, and The Wicklow Rose remained unpublished and unprofitable. Alice was undoubtedly the couple’s main breadwinner. Perhaps she was beginning to feel the strain. The 1881 census gave her age as twenty-nine; In fact, she was at least thirty-four. Like so many prima donnas past their first youth, she had begun to subtract years from her age in a bid to extend her career. Alice’s position was not an enviable one. When she began her relationship with Allen, she probably never envisaged a time when her musical reputation would stand higher than his and she would have to support him. Allen was now fifty-nine. His status as a musician had diminished since his return from the colonies. Younger composers and changing fashions had overtaken him and his days as a popular writer of drawingroom ballads were all but over. Most of his theatrical engagements had been as part of package deals with managements who wanted Alice for their prima donna. Such deals had become increasingly rare. As her star had risen, his had waned. This had not stopped him trying to influence her career, usually in an effort to gain opportunities for himself. While Alice was preparing for her return to the Alhambra, Allen was busy with the final stages of a curious piece of litigation that may also have been detrimental to her interests. It originated from a dispute two years earlier between D’Oyly Carte and the other directors of the Comedy Opera Company, the men who had put up the bulk of the money for the original productions of The Sorcerer and its successor, H.M.S.Pinafore. The faint-hearted, money-grubbing attitudes of these men had been a continuing source of frustration to Carte. Terrified of losing their capital and unwilling to accept his professional judgment, they plagued him with demands to close the show every time bookings dropped. He fought their interference throughout the run of The Sorcerer, but the situation only worsened with Pinafore. Finally, he had engineered a new contract that gave the directors of the Comedy Opera Company the net profits of H.M.S.Pinafore until July 31, 1879, after which he would be able to dissolve the company and assume the sole rights (and risks) himself. However, by the time he gave formal notice to his fellow directors that their rights were about to end, the show they had seen as an albatross had become a golden goose. Understandably reluctant to lose the fine profits Pinafore was now making for them, they tried to circumvent their agreement with Carte. When legal means and an attempt to mount a rival production failed, they adopted harsh 114 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

tactics. On the evening their contract was due to expire, some of the directors and their henchmen descended on the Opera Comique Theatre and caused a riot by trying to take away the scenery for H.M.S.Pinafore in the middle of a performance. The incident culminated in charges of affray being laid against the directors concerned. Early in the proceedings at Bow Street Magistrates’Court, Allen made an unscheduled appearance to demand that the directors be summonsed “to show cause why they had refused to permit an examination of their books by the shareholders of the Company.” On subsequent hearing days he pursued the matter vigorously, rejecting company claims that, as a mere shareholder, he was not entitled to see the accounts. He said he was worried that the Comedy Opera Company’s capital was being “shamelessly squandered away by the Directors in the most reckless manner.” By giving the current court case as an example of wasteful spending, he alienated all the parties involved, including Carte. The magistrate declared that he had no power to make the company open its books, but, in his opinion, shareholders ought to be kept informed about financial matters. This was encouragement enough for Allen to take his case to a higher court. In September 1879 he sought an injunction in the Court of Chancery “to restrain the Directors of the Company from dealing improperly with the funds in their control, being the profits from the performance of the popular opera bouffe H.M.S. Pinafore.” He also wanted “to restrain the Directors from lending money to each other.” This was a valid complaint, because loans from company funds had undoubtedly been made to two of the directors. After a special examiner had cross-examined witnesses from both sides, the judge, Mr. Justice Bowen, came down largely in Allen’s favor and ordered that he should see “whatever financial books and documents he was entitled to see” at once. There matters rested until March 1, 1881, when the case of Allen v.v. the Comedy Opera Company (Limited) came before one of Britain’s senior law lords, the Vice Chancellor, Sir James Bacon. In the interim Allen had attempted to have the company dissolved. The directors countered by offering to buy back his shares. When Bacon discovered that Allen had accepted this offer, thus parting “with every shred of interest he had ever possessed in the company,” he demanded to know why the action had been continued. It “was not creditable to anybody” and “he did not think the time of the Court ought to be occupied any longer with the case.” After ALICE MAY 115

awarding Allen costs up to the date he sold his shares and ordering him to pay the Comedy Opera Company’s costs from then on, he decreed that one set of costs canceled out the other and closed the case. It was a strange episode. Allen’s motivation for bringing the action can only be surmised. Although he painted himself as a champion of the small shareholder, it seems far more likely that he scented the prospect of money and wanted to be sure he was not missing out on his slice of the Pinafore profits. This was not unreasonable, but his way of tackling the matter was bound to cause offense. Worse, it affected Alice by association. Allen had annoyed the executive triumvirate of Carte, Sullivan, and Gilbert just as much as he had the nonexecutive directors of the Comedy Opera Company. From the moment he interrupted proceedings at Bow Street Magistrate’s Court in August 1879, it became unlikely that anyone connected with him would ever work for the D’Oyly Carte organization again. As Allen’s litigation ended, Alice was getting ready for her return to the Alhambra. The theatre was now managed by Howard Paul, ex-husband of the late Isabelle Paul, the first Lady Sangazure in The Sorcerer. Paul was a jack-of-all-theatrical trades: actor, entertainer, manager, and occasional dramatist. Born in America, he had lived in Britain since 1852. He was well acquainted with the musical theatre scene in London, New York, and Paris, and his wide experience had taught him a great deal about public taste. Theatrical observers considered him just the man to enhance the Alhambra’s already high reputation. The work for which he had hired Alice was another French comic opera in an English adaptation by the ubiquitous Reece. Paul Lacome’s Jeanne, Jeannette et Jeanneton had been a Parisian hit as long ago as 1876, but had not previously been played in Britain. It received its London premiere on March 28, 1881, in what the Theatre’s critic described in the May 1881 issue as a typical Alhambra production: “Far too long, splendidly mounted, ballets better than ever, too much talk, not enough singing, when an hour has been cut out it will be all right, no doubt.” Considering that the first night performance did not finish until mid-night, it was not surprising that the majority of reviewers found the piece too long. They recommended tightening some of the scenes and cutting much of the dialogue. None suggested doing away with the “grand mythological ballet,” Endymion, Which had been introduced into the sec- ond act. A special ballet, relevant or not, was what patrons 116 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

expected to see at the Alhambra, and this one, which featured music by the theatre’s musical director, Georges Jacobi, and the talents of a new prima ballerina, Mademoiselle Palladino, was considered particularly charming. Reviewers were not overly impressed by Lacome’s score— indeed, the Observer of April 3 dismissed it as “feeble.” The Era of April 2 was kinder, saying that although the music was seldom original it at least had “the great merit of being always lively and always tuneful.” What made the show successful was not the score or the rather complicated story but the ballet, the customary lavish Alhambra staging, and the efforts of a fine cast that included Fred Leslie as the comic lead, Briolet, W.H. Woodfield as the womanizing villain, de Nocé, and three prima donnas: Alice, the ever-popular Constance Loseby, and a new arrival on the musical theatre scene, Lizzie St.Quinten. They played the three girls of the title who meet by chance on the way to seek their fortunes in Paris, and, struck by the similarity of their names, make a pact to meet again in five years time. Having three prima donnas in one comic opera was a definite selling point. A critic writing in the May 1881 issue of the Theatre reveled in hearing the trio “engaged in a lively vocal competition and singing their best.” Unfortunately, Alice’s role of Jeanne, the girl who goes on to find fame and fortune as Louis XV’s mistress Madame Du Barry, was the least interesting of the three. While Loseby (Jeanneton) and St.Quinten (Jeannette) received uniformly good reviews, she was not so lucky. According to the Era of April 2, Alice played the part “with little artistic feeling. A tendency to force her voice also marred her success, and rendered the character less effective than it might have been.” Other reviews were more favorable, but there was little doubt that Alice was falling behind her peers in the eyes of some London critics. Jeanne, Jeannette et Jeanneton held its own against an abundance of competing musical theatre attractions for three months. Toward the end of May, Alhambra advertisements began to include news of the novelty Howard Paul was preparing as its replacement, The Bronze Horse. Billed as a “Grand Musical, Romantic, Legendary, Japanese spectacle,” the show was founded, very loosely, on Auber’s 1835 opéra comique Le Cheval de bronze, a work almost forgotten in Britain apart from its overture, which was often used to accompany circus equestrian performances. Paul’s new version of the piece kept much of the original music but the story was significantly altered and the setting transferred from ALICE MAY 117

China to Japan. This was to exploit the current wave of fashionable enthusiasm for all things Japanese, an enthusiasm that later found enduring musical expression in Gilbert and Sullivan’s and Puccini’s Madama Butterfly. The Bronze Horse was premiered on July 4, 1881, and was an instant success. Although Paul’s revamped libretto followed Alhambra tradition by being far too long, it was, according to the Theatre of August 1881, “bright, epigrammatic and witty” and incorporated a number of clever satirical digs at contemporary artistic trends and topics. The scenery and stage effects were exceptional, even by Alhambra standards. The appearance of an authentic Japanese village had been created onstage for the opening act. The central scenes were set on the planet Venus, to which various characters found themselves transported on the back of the magical bronze horse. This allowed for a generous measure of fantasy in both costuming and special effects. The last act was played out against the magnificent backdrop of a Japanese temple. Two typically ambitious interpolated ballets added to the overall spectacle. The costumes for these were so rich and ingenious that the Era devoted two columns of its July 23 issue to describing them in detail. Paul enhanced The Bronze Horse’s appeal by casting two long- standing Alhambra favorites in key roles. The bright and breezy Fannie Leslie returned to the theatre after a protracted absence to star as the heroine, Peki, the unwilling fifth wife of the Great Bamboo. The Theatre’s critic particularly admired Harry Paulton, who played her husband in a manner “buoyant, but never obtrusive; funny, but never vulgar.” He capered his way through the Venus scenes dressed in white ballet skirts and a sunflower headdress, convulsing audiences with mirth at his antics. The sunflower was the symbol of the blossoming Aesthetic movement whose adherents, heavily influenced by Pre-Raphaelite painters and critics such as Ruskin, espoused a kind of sentimental archaism often accompanied by mild affectation of speech and dress. The so-called “aesthetic craze” and its most famous representative, Oscar Wilde, had already become the butt of jokes in humorous journals, and the Venus episode in The Bronze Horse was considered the funniest stage skit yet produced on the subject. Later that same year Gilbert and Sullivan’s satirized the movement to even better effect. Alice’s role was that of Sou-Sou, the Great Bamboo’s fourth wife, who makes common cause with the unhappy Peki and helps her to 118 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

escape from her unwanted marriage and find her true love. It was essentially a supporting part, but because Fannie Leslie relied on charm and personality rather than vocal prowess to make her impact and Auber’s music was frequently more operatic in style than that in most modern opéras-bouffes, Alice was given the most technically demanding numbers to sing. The critics generally felt that she acquitted herself admirably and her contribution went down well with audiences. The Bronze Horse played to packed houses from the day it opened. By mid-August the theatre’s proprietors could claim that 100,000 had already seen the show. Howard Paul left in September on one of his periodic visits to America, relinquishing the managership of the Alhambra to others, but The Bronze Horse galloped on, taking the occasional cast change in its stride. On October 27, 1881 it notched up its hundredth performance. The Alhambra’s next attraction, a new version of an old favorite, , was due to begin on December 3, and the theatre was scheduled to close for three weeks beforehand so that maintenance and refurbishment could be carried out. But The Bronze Horse was still so popular that the management hesitated to bring its run to an end. Instead, the whole production was transferred to Her Majesty’s Theatre, where it continued to prosper. It could not continue past December 3, however. Too many of the cast members were required for The Black Crook and others had already accepted engagements elsewhere. With the ending of The Bronze Horse’s phenomenally successful season, Alice headed for the provinces. Although she had no way of knowing it, she had played her last role on a London stage. Chapter 9 Prima Donna in the Provinces

Christmas 1881 found Alice once again in Liverpool, the city where she had enjoyed so much success in 1876 and 77. She had been engaged by Frank Emery, lessee of the Prince of Wales Theatre, to star in another pantomime from the prolific pen of John F.McArdle: Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp. Several other Liverpool theatres had pantomimes in rehearsal, but Emery outdid his rivals by opening on December 22, rather than on the traditional Boxing Day. His enterprise was rewarded. Aladdin drew bumper houses for the brief period during which it had the market to itself—and it subsequently maintained an advantage over its competitors because it was by far the most lavish of the city’s seasonal offering Alice’s name headed Aladdin’s cast list, but her position was essentially that of a guest star: a high-profile artist brought in to entice the public but not expected to play an overly arduous part in proceedings. The main roles in the pantomime were taken by Pollie Randall, who made a dashingly energetic Aladdin, and Ethel Castleton, who was graceful, if a trifle unexciting, as his sweetheart, Princess Badroulbadour. Alice appeared in the secondary breeches part of Pekoe, a young Chinese gallant who tries unsuccessfully to win the princess’s hand. Alfred Hemming threw himself into the villainous role of the Wicked Wizard Abanazer with an oily venom that drew hisses and jeers from the enthralled public, and the pantomime dance role of Aladdin’s ‘s mother, the Widow Mustafa, was played—or, according to some reviews, overplayed—by a popular comedian, William Morgan. 120 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

To make his pantomime even more attractive, Emery hired a number of novelty acts that he incorporated at points where McArdle’s rather convoluted version of the traditional Aladdin story required a lift. They included a lady who yodeled her way through a selection of Tyrolean songs and a pair of acrobats, Rezene and Rubini, who delighted patrons with a comic trapeze routine. There were plenty of spectacular moments, including a shipwreck, a bird ballet entitled “The Enchanted Aviary,” and a culminating transformation scene, “The Nereids offering at the throne of Amphitrite.”This was very well received because it featured a symbolic representation of Liverpool complete with a superimposed image of the city’s coat-of-arms. During the season, the Prince of Wales’s management also conducted experiments to see if parts of the theatre could be lit effectively by electricity. The results were highly satisfactory. “It is probable,” declared the Era’s Liverpool correspondent on January 24, 1882, “that the electric lamp will, ere long, be used on the stage and in the various dressing rooms, thereby doing away with the heat in the auditorium which naturally arises from gas illumination.” Aladdin ran for nine weeks, retaining its popularity to the last. Alice’s singing was an important element in the pantomime‘s success. The theatre’s musical director, John Baylis, who wrote the score for the show, gave her most of the best songs, and the skilful way she put them across brought her a string of excellent notices. Local critics seemingly expected her to shine. “Of Miss May’s power as a finished and artistic vocalist it is needless to speak,” remarked the Liverpool Echo. “Her operatic performances have made her very popular in Liverpool, and she is not likely to lose favour by such charming vocalisation as that by which she em- bellishes the present production.” Alice’s contribution to Aladdin was rewarded with a benefit on February 17, 1882. It drew a good- sized audience and, as the Era pointed out, the occasion was “especially appropriate, as it was at the ‘Prince’ several years ago [that] Miss May made her first appearance in England after a promising success in Australia.” Alice had no time to rest after the pantomime closed on February 25, 1882. Barely forty-eight hours later she was in Edinburgh, making her debut with an opéra-bouffe company run by the inimitable Emily Soldene. A handsome woman with a fine mezzosoprano voice and a personality as generous as her figure, Soldene had rocketed to stardom in 1871 when she played Drogan in the hit English version of Geneviève de Brabant. Two years ALICE MAY 121

later she triumphed as Mademoiselle Lange in H.B. Farnie’s English adaptation of Lecocq’s La Fille de Madame Angot. Since then she had toured as far afield as Australia and New Zealand at the head of her own company and become established as one of the most famous and best-loved exponents of opéra-bouffe in Britain and America. Her powers were just beginning to decline and she had decided to wind down her hitherto hectic schedule with a final tour round the British provincial circuit. Alice joined what was popularly known as Madame Soldene’s Opera Company on February 27, 1882. Over the next four months she performed with it in Edinburgh, Kilmarnock, Barrow-in- Furness, Sunderland, West Hartlepool, Liverpool, Manchester, Huddersfield, Harrogate, Newcastle-upon-Tyne, Stockton-on-Tees, Southport, Blackpool, and Nottingham. However, her association with the company nearly came to an untimely end. On March 12 she and her new colleagues set out on an overnight train from Kilmarnock for their next destination, the English shipbuilding town of Barrow-in-Furness. Most of them were asleep in their berths by the time the train reached Lancaster, where it was due to be shunted onto a siding to allow the night express to pass. The maneuver was only half completed when railway staff heard the sound of the express approaching at speed. Realizing the danger, the driver of another engine ran it full tilt into the back of the Soldene company’s train and managed to force it out of the way just as the express thundered past. His quick thinking undoubtedly averted a fatal collision. Soldene and Alice were jolted from their beds by the impact, several other members of the company had to be treated for bumps, bruises, and cuts, and the carriages in which they had been traveling were so severely damaged that replacements had to be found before the journey could continue. Everyone was shaken by the near disaster, but in true theatrical tradition the show went on. The Barrow-in-Furness season opened on time the following evening, as if nothing had happened. There was a surfeit of musical theatre troupes touring the provinces during the first half of 1882, but the power of the Soldene name meant that her ensemble attracted more critical attention and better audience support than its rivals. One of the company’s strengths was the quality of its four main soloists. The superior skills of Soldene and Alice were complemented by those of two very competent leading men: Henry Nordblom, a tenor, and Michael Dwyer, a baritone. The Swedish-born Nordblom was a 122 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

singer of distinction who had performed with the Carl Rosa Opera Company in the 1870s and had previously toured with Soldene in 1879. Dwyer was still young but had already amassed considerable experience on the provincial circuit as well as playing Captain Corcoran in the Comedy Opera Company’s abortive 1879 attempt to mount pirated performances of H.M.S.Pinafore in London. He would subsequently enjoy a long and successful career on the British musical stage. Soldene knew how to give the public what it wanted. She did not skimp on scenery or costumes and reviews often mentioned that these were exceptionally good by touring company standards. The chorus was vocally weak, but male patrons appreciated its contingent of leggy chorus girls—always a feature of any Soldene company. The prevailing fashion for novelty dance items was satisfied by an “‘aesthetic quadrille,” which had apparently been extracted from a previous Covent Garden pantomime. The April 18, 1882, Liverpool Daily Post described it as “a very amusing and exaggerated caricature on the aesthetic craze…full of funny postures in which, we should imagine, the aesthetes are never to be found.” Despite having no relevance to any of the works in the company’s repertoire, the quadrille was presented during one of the intermissions at every performance. It proved to be a major attraction and was regularly encored. Although Alice had sung supporting roles in opéra-bouffe productions at London’s Alhambra, she had always toured the provinces as a leading lady in her own right. Her decision to accept an engagement that relegated her to second place on the advertising bills was almost certainly influenced by Soldene’s willingness to hire Allen as the company’s conductor. He had had few conducting opportunities over the past three years, so the tour gave him a welcome chance to reestablish his theatrical credentials. Alice’s task was to act as a foil to her more famous colleague. She played Clairette to Soldene’s Mademoiselle Lange in La Fille de Madame Angot, Geneviève to her Drogan in Geneviève de Brabant, Fortunato to her Marietta in Madame l’archiduc, and Micaëla to Soldene’s in Bizet’s opera of the same name. These four works, plus Dibdin’s nautical ballad opera The Waterman—usually played in a double bill with Geneviève de Brabant—formed the company’s core repertoire. When Soldene had originally toured in Carmen, in 1879, her advertisements claimed that she had the “sole right of representation in English in the provinces.” Although she made a ALICE MAY 123

Emily Soldene as Marietta in Madame l’archiduc. Author’s collection.

similar claim in 1882, the English-language version of the work had been long since appropriated by other touring ensembles. The Soldene troupe’s performances of Carmen fell well short of those regularly given in provincial centers by the Carl Rosa Opera Company, but Soldene’s own interpretation of the title role still had much to recommend it. In Liverpool, for example, where the work was played to an enthusiastic and gratifyingly large audience on April 17, her singing and acting as the willful heroine were said 124 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

to be “distinguished by all their former force and fervour,” according to the Era of April 22. The same critic described Alice as “a great favourite in Liverpool, [who] played Michaela [sic] with much spirit and her vocalisation was singularly artistic and effective.” The role of Don José’s gentle, steadfast sweetheart was a new one for Alice. Surprisingly, given her propensity for overexuberance, she adapted to it well and her interpretation was greeted with approval throughout the tour. La Fille de Madame Angot was the most popular work in the company’s repertoire. Soldene’s Mademoiselle Lange was considered a definitive performance by many critics, but Alice’s playing of Clairette attracted almost as much attention. She was “charming and piquant…and captivated everyone with her fine voice” declared the Liverpool Daily Post on April 22, while the same day’s Liverpool Echo said, “Her piquancy and verve gave picturesqueness to a part which, in less talented and discriminating hands, often degenerates into a dull and vulgar character.” In Manchester, where Alice had received one or two niggling reviews in the past, the Evening News on May 2 pronounced her “a model representative” of the role and the Evening Mail of the same date thought that her acting had improved since her last appearance in the city and her singing was “as pleasing as ever.” Almost every aspect of Alice’s performance came in for praise at some stage of the tour. The June 27 issue of the Nottingham Journal, for example, drew attention to her “excellent quality of most distinctly and clearly enunciating the words of the libretto.” Obviously, clarity of diction was not always a characteristic of opéra-bouffe prima donnas. Alice had less chance to shine in Madame l’archiduc. The work was dominated by the showy central role of Marietta, which had all the best tunes and was an ideal vehicle for a prima donna with plenty of panache. Madame l’archiduc was a Soldene trademark. She had taken the work to America and the Antipodes and persisted with it in Britain despite the disdain of critics, who considered it unequal to Offenbach’s more popu- lar theatre compositions. “Probably if it had not been for the success of such pieces as the ‘Grand Duchesse’ and ‘Genevieve,’ ‘Madame L’Archiduc’ would never have been heard of’,” grumbled the critic for the Liverpool Daily Post on April 25, 1882. Inevitably, Soldene’s performance as Marietta was the focus of all reviews and her colleagues sometimes received only passing mention. Alice sang and acted the trouser role of Fortunato in competent fashion, ALICE MAY 125

but there were hints that her figure was no longer trim enough for her to make a convincingly handsome young captain of the guards. It was the least successful of the roles she played with the company. There was unequivocal enthusiasm, however, for her appearances in Geneviève de Brabant. Drogan, one of the parts that had made Alice a star in Australia, was another of Soldene’s signature roles. Alice consequently found herself playing Geneviève for the first time. The Nottingham and Midland Counties Daily Express could “scarcely bestow enough praise” on her performance: “She carried the audience with her, and fairly brought down the house by her extremely pretty rendering of the ‘Kissing Song,’ in which her winsome style of articulation and expression was displayed to the fullest advantage.” Even the acerbic critic of the Manchester Guardian could find no fault. He thought her “demure wickedness” in the part “contagious” and pronounced her singing of the “Kissing Song” to be “the great success of the evening.” A new work was introduced during the Manchester season. On May 3, 1882, the Soldene company gave the world premiere of The Wicklow Rose, a comic opera with music by Allen and a libretto by his regular collaborator, Robert Reece. This was the composition Allen had successfully demonstrated to local managers and critics when Alice was performing in The Sultan of Mocha. Then, he had expected to see the opera produced at the Theatre Royal within a few months. Instead, it had taken over two years to reach the stage and the venue was the less prestigious Prince‘s Theatre. Just how Allen persuaded Soldene to take up the work has not been recorded, but the decision clearly gave Alice a further reason for joining the company. The plot of The Wicklow Rose bore a strong family likeness to such popular melodramas as The Shaughraun, by the Irish- American playwright Dion Boucicault. Its basic outline was succinctly summarized in the Manchester Guardian of May 4:

There is a fine young Irishman, who is beloved of the heroine of the piece, and who gets into trouble on suspicion of treasonable practices against the Government; the villain, who informs against the hero; and the two lovers of humble life to pair off against the hero and heroine. 126 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

The eventual defeat of the villain and reuniting of the heroine, Norah, and hero, Terence O’Neil, occupied three acts, the second of which was set mainly at Donnybrook Fair. This allowed Allen and Reece to enliven the action by introducing an Irish jig and an assortment of colorful fairground characters. The Wicklow Rose may have taken time to reach the stage, but with the composer in the pit and a strong set of principals it was given every opportunity to succeed. Nordblom turned in a suitably heroic performance as O’Neil and made a strong impression with his singing of “I Cannot Forget Her,” which was generally considered the finest solo in the work. Soldene, starring as Norah, “proved that she can produce legitimate vocal effects outside the range of burlesque opera.” Alice was cast as Molly, the more important of the two rustic lovers. Acknowledging her relationship with the composer, the Guardian critic noted that she “entered heart and soul into her work, and displayed a familiarity with her music which perhaps was not altogether remarkable.” Despite the performers’ keen commitment, reviews of the opera were tepid. Reece’s libretto was dismissed as “no better and no worse than hundreds of the same sort” although it formed “a fairly satisfactory vehicle for the conveyance of Mr.Allen’s agreeable music.”The words “agreeable” and “melodious” occurred frequently in descriptions of the score. The critical consensus was that Allen’s skills were better displayed in solo than ensemble writing. He strove too hard for originality in his finales and concerted pieces, which lost dramatic impetus as a result. Interestingly, none of the reviewers made mention of his earlier comic operas; most seemed to think that he had never written for the stage before. “The experience which is needed for a successful dramatic composer can hardly be gained in a single effort,” advised the Guardian critic in a spirit of helpful condescension. “It is not remarkable, therefore, that there are occasional evidences of weakness in the course of the musical situations.” The same writer ended by congratulating the company on presenting a work “which certainly contains within itself the elements of permanent success,” but this was little more than a platitude. After a further performance, on May 4, The Wicklow Rose vanished from the repertoire forever. To be fair, its demise was not wholly the fault of the composer and librettist. While none of the reviews suggested that The Wicklow Rose was in any way outstanding, it was a pleasant enough entertainment, competently performed. Having gone to the trouble of putting the work on in the first place, Soldene probably ALICE MAY 127

intended to give it an occasional airing during the rest of the tour. Unfortunately, political events conspired against any further performances. On May 6, 1882, the Secretary for Ireland, Lord Frederick Cavendish, and his undersecretary, Thomas Henry Burke, were assassinated in Phoenix Park, Dublin, by members of an extremist splinter group associated with the Fenians, the secret revolutionary society working to achieve Irish independence from Britain by force. Mainland Britain was outraged. Newspapers were full of recriminations and anti-Irish sentiment ran riot. Stage works with an Irish flavor became temporary casualties of the event. The fate of The Wicklow Rose, with its hint of Irish patriotic fervor and hero suspected of antigovernment activities, was sealed. If the Soldene tour did little to further Allen’s aspirations as a composer for the musical theatre, it emphatically confirmed the high regard in which Alice was held. “She has certainly made a host of friends during the week’s engagement” declared the Manchester Evening News on May 6. Her popularity with audiences was evident wherever the company went. She was also an admirable colleague, unaffected and supportive. At one stage of the tour, when Soldene’s contribution was weakened by a succession of sore throats and Nordblom went through an apparent crisis of confidence, her consistency of performance and rapport with audiences made her the mainstay of the troupe. Yet she and Allen left the company partway through the Nottingham season, to join another ensemble. There was no hint of a rift, so the couple’s departure must have been an amicable one. It coincided with Soldene’s introduction of Franz von Suppé’s Viennese hit Boccaccio to the repertoire. This had received its first English performance at London’s Comedy Theatre just a few weeks earlier, on April 22, 1882, in a racy adaptation by Reece and H.B.Farnie. Soldene would be premiering the work on the provincial circuit. Perhaps Alice did not want to be in Boccaccio because she knew some critics considered it not quite respectable. Later in her career, she abruptly withdrew from an engagement upon discovering that the company she was about to join had a reputation for unusually risqué performances. Another possibility is that Alice and Allen received an alternative offer of employment that was too good to refuse. The most likely explanation, however, is that she—or, more probably, Allen—had decided it was time for her to stop playing second fiddle to another artist and become a leading lady in her own right once more. 128 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

Whatever the reason, the couple gave their last performance with the Soldene company in Nottingham on June 28 and made their debut with Joseph Eldred’s Opéra-Bouffe Troupe in Blackpool on July 5. Alice’s place with Soldene was taken by her former colleague from the 1877 South company tour, Amy Grundy. Allen’s role as musical director went to the aptly named Mozart Wilson. The Eldred troupe was distinguished more by association than achievement. It took its name from Joseph Eldred, a respected actor-manager who liked to trade on his remarkable resemblance to the British statesman and novelist, the late . He was best known for his performances as Wilkins Micawber in Our Little Em’ly, a stage adaptation of Dickens’s David Copperfield. The opéra-bouffe troupe was one of several management ventures in which he had an interest, but it was not under his direct control and he made only occasional guest appearances with it. The day-to-day running of the ensemble was handled by J.W.Whitbred, who doubled in roles such as General Boom in La Grande-Duchesse de Gérolstein. Eldred, meanwhile, toured as the star of his own comedy and melodrama company. He cannily toured this in close proximity to the opéra-bouffe troupe whenever possible, so that he was accessible if Whitbred needed his advice or help. When Alice and Allen joined the company, it had already been on the road for some time, visiting primarily the smaller towns of the northern and midlands regions. It was a well-run ensemble with a slightly better chorus than Soldene had been able to muster, but soloists of lesser caliber. The leading man, Maurice Johnson, possessed a pleasant but rather underpowered high tenor and few acting skills. The best of the supporting women singers was Carrie Braham, who had played small roles alongside Alice in the Alhambra company. Whitbred, who later left the performing ranks for a career as a playwright and theatrical journalist, fulfilled his organizational duties effectively and displayed reasonable comic flair onstage. The company also had the benefit of a small troupe of dancers, led by Kate Paterson, who contributed a ballet as an afterpiece to each opéra-bouffe performance. Alice was a vastly better performer than any of her new colleagues and her advent gave the Eldred troupe’s fortunes a lift. This was immediately apparent in venues such as Blackpool, Nottingham, and Harrogate, where she was warmly welcomed by audiences who had seen her only a few weeks earlier with Soldene. In Harrogate, on July 17, 1882, the company took part in the ALICE MAY 129

formal opening of St.James’s Hall, a recently completed place of entertainment built by the curiously named Harrogate Conservative Club and Public Coffee-house Company. The evening’s celebrations began with Alice singing the national anthem and ended with a lively performance of La Grande- Duchesse de Gérolstein, in which she proved herself as dazzling and dashing as ever in the title role. In historical terms the most interesting feature of the occasion was the speech made by the president of the Conservative Club, Dr.Myrtle, a local physician who had been one of the first to espouse the medicinal benefits of Harrogate’s mineral waters. A strong individualist, he used the occasion to say a few words in favor of the theatrical profession. The tone of his address showed an appreciation of the performers’ lot that was unusually enlightened for the time. First, he expressed his pleasure that “the social position of the actor was very different from what it was in other days. Now an actor took his position in society, and mixed as the equal of those who some years ago would have looked down on him.” He then stressed the mental and physical demands of a stage career and ended by praising the generosity of the profession. Actors, as a body, “were distinguished for their sympathy for suffering and downright goodheartedness. He had known a poor actor give away his last shilling to an actor poorer than himself.” At a time when performers were still struggling for universal social acceptance, Myrtle’s comments must have been remarkably encouraging. Interest in the new hall assured the company of excellent houses in Harrogate. Good luck stayed with them at their next port-of- call, Douglas. This small town was the capital of the Isle of Man, an island in the Irish Sea that was not technically part of Great Britain because it had its own parliament and passed many of its own laws. Nevertheless, Douglas had long been a secondary venue on the touring circuit because of its proximity to the British mainland and its growing importance as a summer resort. The town seldom played host to large ensembles, so the Eldred company’s two- week sojourn at the Gaiety Theatre was exceptional. Alice was the principal reason for the season’s success. On August 12 the Era’s local correspondent unhesitatingly dubbed her “the bright particular star” of the company, declaring that she had “completely won the hearts of Douglas audiences by her splendid singing and clever acting.” Her performances as the Grand Duchess and as Mademoiselle Lange in La Fille de Madame Angot were received 130 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

almost with rapture. There was even enthusiasm for her playing of Prince Raphael in La Princesse de Trébizonde, despite the fact that she no longer had the figure to do the role justice. From the Isle of Man the company moved to Glasgow, where Eldred took time out from his drama troupe to make a couple of well- publicized appearances as Cabriolo in La Princesse de Trébizonde. It was the last high point of the tour. For the next few months the performers zigzagged their way around Britain, seldom spending more than a week in any town and only rarely achieving full houses or extensive reviews. Alice continued to shine by comparison with her colleagues, but she was going rapidly backward in career terms. For some time her association with Allen had been more of a hindrance to her than a help. Now, in order to work with him, she had dwindled to the position of leading lady with a second-class provincial touring ensemble when she could have been singing principal roles in London. Admittedly she had never shown much sign of personal ambition, being apparently content to go where theatrical chance led her, but this particular engagement was a sad waste of her talents. The situation was made worse by the fact that the Eldred troupe depended so heavily on her for whatever success it enjoyed. She had to work particularly hard to compensate for the deficiencies of others. The toll this took on her stamina and vocal health became evident as the tour neared its end. During a return visit to Edinburgh, which began on November 13, 1882, Lecocq’s Giroflé- Girofla was added to the repertoire. The work had been diligently rehearsed and the action went briskly enough, but there were still many imperfections on opening night, particularly in the concerted music. In addition to coping with the considerable demands of the dual title role, there were several moments when Alice found herself keeping the show afloat as her fellow singers failed to negotiate the trickier ensembles. The ever-trenchant Scotsman noted on November 14 that she “exhibited considerable histrionic talent, and played with refinement and naturalness,” but flagged toward the end of the evening as a result of her exertions. Her vocal control began to let her down and she frequently sang flat. She was clearly much in need of a rest. The last stop on the tour was Sunderland, where the Eldred com- pany performed at the Theatre Royal from November 20 to 25, 1882. Giroflé-Girofla went better, as the performers were now more familiar with their roles. This allowed Alice to shine even more brightly in the eyes of the local press. The Sunderland Herald ALICE MAY 131

and Daily Post of November 25 reported that her singing was “exceedingly pleasing, and the audience showed their thorough appreciation of her work by their enthusiastic plaudits. The beautiful solo ‘Dreaming’ was rendered… with true artistic grace and expression, and was, undoubtedly, her supremest and most brilliantly successful effort.” It was the last review of any substance that Alice would receive in Britain. After Sunderland she temporarily vanished from view. If the pages of the Era are to be believed, almost anyone who could dance a few steps or pipe a tune had been able to pick up an engagement in one of the many pantomimes being presented during the Christmas season. Yet Alice, who had so distinguished herself in this type of entertainment in previous years, was nowhere to be seen. Her absence from the cast lists continued when the special festive attractions closed and opéra-bouffe companies resumed their activities in London and the provinces. After the end of November 1882 her name disappeared from British theatrical journals—to reemerge, months later, in the columns of the New York Dramatic Mirror and other American papers. Chapter 10 Starting Afresh in America

The first indication of Alice’s arrival in the United States of America was a small news item in the March 10, 1883, issue of the New York Dramatic Mirror which announced that “Alice May, a London actress of ability, is in the city. She has made her greatest successes in light opera and burlesque.” Most New York theatregoers would have been little the wiser for the information. Only those with access to British theatrical journals such as the Era were likely to have recognized her name. A week later, the Mirror’s London correspondent went into greater detail:

I hope Alice May, who is now in New York, will find a niche worthy of her distinguished musical talents. Apart from her vocal gifts, she is an admirable actress, and if once she is properly placed in your city I feel confident she will secure an immense success. When she appeared in The Sorcerer, Arthur Sullivan said she perfectly realised his notion of how the character should be interpreted and, like his collaborator, Gilbert, he is by no means easy to please.

These comments have the ring of insider knowledge and could well have been written by the New York Dramatic Mirror’s British representative, Howard Paul. Having managed Alice at the Alhambra, he was in a good position to know about her qualities as a performer. Why had Alice crossed the Atlantic to start a new career in America? Most British performers made the journey for financial ALICE MAY 133

reasons. The theatrical profession was just as insecure in America as it was elsewhere, but those who reached the top could expect to earn more in New York, or on the thriving American theatrical circuit, than they could in Britain. For years, individual performers and even entire companies had been coming over in search of richer pickings. An “Ode to Ye English Actors,” published in the New York Clipper on June 16, 1883, a few weeks after Alice ‘s arrival, summed up the amused exasperation local professionals felt at the constant influx of British artists:

There‘s more of them coming this way: Great Caesar! they’re coming to stay; For the salaries meek Britannia pays for a week They can “collar” out here in a day!

Exaggeration or not, the dollar was a powerful lure. It was not unusual for performers of Alice’s stature to try their luck on the other side of the Atlantic. America’s busy musical theatre scene had a reassuringly familiar look to British artists. Apart from a handful of homegrown shows, the repertoire consisted mainly of works that had already proved their worth on the London stage. English versions of French opéras-bouffes and the newer Viennese operettas were popular. Gilbert and Sullivan had taken America by storm with H.M.S.Pinafore and D’Oyly Carte now regularly presented shows in New York, as much to protect Gilbert and Sullivan’s copyrights as to make money. America had its own musical theatre stars— most notably the wondrous Lillian Russell, a temperamental beauty with im- mense drawing power and a penchant for breaking contracts—but the success of Lydia Thompson and Emily Soldene, among others, had proved that British performers could win the hearts of American audiences. When Alice reached New York, she almost certainly encountered many artists she already knew and had worked with at home. Yet there was something unusual about Alice’s arrival. The lack of any comment beforehand suggests a decision made in haste. She was an experienced and successful prima donna. If the British theatrical press had known she intended to visit America, the news would have been worth at least an inch or two in the gossip columns. Equally, had she planned her trip in advance, she would surely have secured a contract for herself before she set out. The sources are ambiguous on this point, but it appears that Alice 134 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

came to New York without a prior engagement and with no advance publicity. She also arrived without the man who had been her companion for nearly fourteen years, George Benjamin Allen. At some time after her last performance with the Eldred troupe, she had parted company with him forever. There was surely more behind her decision to leave Britain than a sudden desire to try her luck in New York. That “more” was, almost certainly, her discovery that Allen was cheating on her with another woman, a shadowy figure whose first name was probably “Maritza” and whose surname appears variously in records as “Finsoul,” “Finsone,” or “Finsome.” Many years later, when she supplied the information for his death certificate, Maritza claimed to have married Allen in London when he was fifty-five years of age. That seems unlikely. During the relevant period (1877–78), he and Alice were working together in the same companies and it would have been almost impossible for him to have concealed another liaison. From 1879 onward Alice was frequently engaged independent of Allen, and he could easily have become involved elsewhere without her knowledge. No record of a marriage between Allen and Maritza has been traced, but the pair undoubtedly had a long-standing de facto relationship, because in a reprise of Allen’s scenario with Alice, they later went to Australia where they lived together as man and wife until Allen’s death in 1897. His death certificate includes information about his surviving children: the six born to his only legal wife, Ann, and two more to his socalled second wife, Maritza. The older of these, Oliver, was born in 1882. Again, no certificate has been found, although all births were supposed to be registered in Britain at this time. There were, however, ways of concealing illegitimacy, for example, by crossing the Channel to France for the final few weeks of a pregnancy, thus avoiding British birth- registration requirements. Maritza may have been wrong about the exact year when her relationship with Allen began, but she was unlikely to have made a mistake about her son’s birth. Allen must have been leading a double life by 1882. The arrival of a child could well have forced him to resolve the situation. Whatever the circumstances, it seems that Alice discovered his double-dealing at some point after the end of the Eldred tour. She had once turned her back on home and family to follow Allen; now she crossed the Atlantic to get away from him. New York in 1883 was a vibrant city, very different from London in character. Alice would have found its brashness and air of ALICE MAY 135

optimism reminiscent of Melbourne, albeit on a much larger scale. It was more modern, go-ahead, and overtly commercial than London. This was not always a blessing. To visitors fresh from the British capital, the festoons of wire that disfigured the business and industrial heartland below Fourteenth Street—a testament to the enthusiasm with which local businessmen had adopted the latest in telegraph and telephone communications—made an ugly contrast to the unadorned elegance of the old buildings in London’s financial district. It would be another two years before legislation was initiated to force developers to run their wires and cables underground. The age of skyscrapers was just beginning in New York. So was the commuter age. Those who could afford it preferred to live well away from the city’s commercial heart. The elevated railway, commonly known as the El, brought in thousands of wage earners every day from the rapidly expanding northern suburbs. Ferries plied the waters between the Manhattan, Long Island, Staten Island, and the New Jersey shorelines. When Alice arrived, the big news in the city was the forthcoming opening of the Brooklyn Bridge, on May 24, 1883, which would bring Manhattan and Brooklyn into easy proximity. The bridge was just one of New York’s many wonders. Visitors could only stand and marvel at it, as they did at the mammoth department stores bursting at the seams with consumer luxuries, or at the bright lights and bustling cafés of the Broadway theatre district. New York was exciting, yet terrifying: a city of huge extremes and—for those prepared to work hard and ride their luck—great opportunities. Alice’s American career began on May 9, 1883, in a revival of Balfe’s Satanella at the Standard Theatre. The Standard, on Sixth Avenue, had been devoted to comic opera throughout the 1882–83 season. From September 26, 1882, it had hosted the D’Oyly Carte Opera Company, which presented the American premieres of Robert Planquette’s Rip van Winkle and Gilbert and Sullivan’s Iolanthe during its stay. When the D’Oyly Carte season ended, a minor entrepreneur, James Barton, hired the theatre in order to stage a lavish production of Satanella as a summer attraction. At least two of those involved in the project—the conductor, Frank Loesch, and the bass taking the role of Arimanes, Fred Bornemann —had participated in an earlier revival of the work at the Tivoli Theatre in San Francisco. The success of that venture had persuaded Barton and his financial backers to bring the opera to New York. 136 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

However, news of the revival did not set the theatre world alight. Satanella was by now considered woefully old-fashioned. A columnist writing in the New York Dramatic Mirror on April 28, 1883, dismissed it as a product of “the vapid old school of music- shop operas, of which Maritana and the Bohemian Girl are the only ones with sufficient vitality to lift their heads from time to time.” Pouring money into such a work would be wasteful, for “never yet saw we vapid wine made to sparkle by a gilt label.” And if advance opinion was not a sufficient obstacle, the production soon struck technical problems. The opening had to be postponed so that the stage crew could get used to working the heavy machinery needed for the spectacular transformation scenes. Even with the delay, the first night was marred by technical glitches. Reviewers agreed that the Barton Opera Company’s Satanella was a magnificent spectacle. The impressively large orchestra and chorus, the special ballet “ornamented with incandescent electric light,” and the superb costumes and special effects left nothing to be desired. Musically and theatrically, however, the piece was considered hardly worth the effort expended on it. The soloists, too, were a mixed bag. Alice had played opposite George Travener, the tenor singing Count Rupert, in The Lily of Killarney at the Royal Opera House, Leicester, in 1877. He had been a wooden actor then and had not improved since. The Dramatic Mirror’s critic likened him to a ventriloquist’s dummy, quipping, “One is always looking about to see where the sound is coming from.” Bornemann had a magnificent voice but an impenetrable German accent. Marie Jansen, who sang Leila, looked attractive and oozed enough youthful charm to make audiences overlook her vocal deficiencies. The supporting cast was weak, with the exception of a fine English bass, William Hamilton, who played Braccasio. He seized his one solo opportunity with both hands. Within two months he would be starring alongside Lillian Russell in Virginia and Paul at London’s Gaiety Theatre. Alice made a less-than-favorable impression in the title role. The New York Clipper thought she had “much of the burlesque style about her.” She was “neither too young nor over-attractive facially, is of rather stout form, and is evidently not a novice. Her voice has considerable power, and, if it lacks somewhat in quality and is apparently worn a little, she manages to make it tell in several of the scenes to good effect.” The New York Daily Tribune thought she had been miscast. She also tended to sing off-key at times, a failing attributed to first-night nerves. The Dramatic Mirror found ALICE MAY 137

her “an excellent actress and a good singer,” but shared the Daily Tribune’s view that she was appearing in the wrong role. The part of Satanella had been written for a soprano with a brilliant and flexible upper register:

Now, Miss May has a mezzo-soprano voice, full in the middle and lower parts but reedy and worn in the upper, and her vocalization, although fairly voluble, is by no means the most noticeable quality. As La Perichole, the Grand Duchess, Belle Helene, etc., Miss May would create a furore. As Satanella, she is only a good artiste in a bad place.

The Barton Opera Company’s production of Satanella was so costly that it needed full houses just to survive. These did not materialize. The show may have been spectacular, but New Yorkers were no longer interested in Balfe’s brand of old-fashioned gothic romanticism. Dismayed at losing money every night, Barton’s financial backers withdrew their funding. Without it, the venture had no chance of survival. The final curtain descended on May 19 and the luckless performers, who had no doubt hoped for an engagement to last the summer, found themselves unemployed after less than a fortnight’s work. The New York Dramatic Mirror felt particularly sorry for Alice, who “would make a brilliant success in her proper line of business.” It predicted that any manager who cast her in opéra-bouffe or burlesque would be well rewarded, for “she has a vast deal of true comedy talent and as a singer, she possesses to perfection the rare gift of clear communication. She sings her words as plainly as others speak them.” The Dramatic Mirror’s support was welcome but it did not put food on the table. Alice’s New York debut had not been sufficiently auspicious to bring managers flocking to her door. Her immediate prospects were far from rosy and she no longer had the resilience that had sustained her through difficulties in the past. The Alice who elected to make a new career for herself in America bore only an outward resemblance to the cheerful, willing girl who had endeared herself to audiences in Australasia. Comments about her in the American theatrical press confirm that she had not lost her generous nature. She had a pleasant word for everyone, was invariably helpful to beginners, and possessed a ready sense of humor and booming laugh, which endeared her to her colleagues. But Alice’s jolly demeanor covered some very real insecurities. 138 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

Allen’s betrayal had robbed her of confidence, and according to Mary Fiske, the “Giddy Gusher” columnist of the Dramatic Mirror, she was quite broken in spirit by the time she arrived in New York. She had also begun drinking heavily. Alcohol was a common backstage opiate at the time. Life, particularly on tour, could be so arduous that performers often used it as a stimulant to keep themselves going. Perhaps Alice had always been prone to take a little tipple but it had never before affected her voice or caused her to miss performances. In America she gradually began to drink to excess. She needed alcohol to give her the courage to appear before the public. Fiske later recalled that at the Satanella dress rehearsal, Alice “sang and acted with a dash that sent [the reporters present] to church on Sunday believing she was going to wake up the town.”The first night arrived and with it “came nervousness and the defeat of her ability by the means she used to reinforce it.” Drink did not immediately coarsen Alice ‘s voice and figure, but it affected her insidiously during her American career. Absences from the stage due to “indisposition” would become an increasing and unhappy feature of her later years. In the aftermath of the failed Satanella season, Alice faced the bleak prospect of a summer without employment. Rescue came in the stalwart form of Charles Elias Ford, a well-respected manager who was looking for a guest artist to play a special role with his comic opera company in St. Louis, Missouri. Ford belonged to an old Baltimore family with long theatrical associations. His father, John T.Ford, managed a number of theatres, several of which had been built for him, including the ill-starred Ford’s Theatre in Washington, D.C., scene of Abraham Lincoln’s assassination. Ford senior was a popular man in his native Baltimore and had even served briefly as the city’s mayor. At his fine house on Gilmore Street, he and his family regularly welcomed distinguished luminaries from the international arts community. John T.Ford was not only an important figure in American theatre circles, he had the reputation of being one of the most honest managers in the business. All four of his sons had followed in his footsteps; Charles, the eldest, was his designated successor. Charles E.Ford (as he was always billed) graduated from the University of Virginia before embarking on his managerial career. After a stint in charge of Ford’s Grand Opera House in Baltimore, he advanced to playing a more major role in his father’s enterprises. John T. had been the only American manager to pay ALICE MAY 139

Gilbert and Sullivan a royalty for H.M.S.Pinafore. As a mark of appreciation, he was given the rights to manage the American premiere of , which took place at New York’s Fifth Avenue Theatre on December 31, 1879. Although Ford senior hired the theatre, he handed the running of the season over to Charles and another Baltimore-raised aspirant to theatrical management, John A.McCaull. They made a marked success of the project before splitting up and becoming involved with companies of their own. McCaull had achieved the greater distinction, but Ford junior was regarded as an astute and reliable impresario. His main interest was a touring comic opera company that he regularly based at the popular entertainment venue of Uhrig’s Cave, St.Louis, for the summer. This was the troupe for which he hired Alice. Just as the British musical theatre thrived outside London, so musical theatre in America was not confined to New York. The Boston Ideal Opera Company, founded in 1879, was considered the finest ensemble of its type in the country. Where it led, dozens of other light opera troupes of varying calibers followed. Some were semipermanent, others lasted just a few weeks before succumbing to financial or personnel problems. Most of the better-managed companies toured during the fall, winter, and spring, visiting towns and cities along the main railroad routes. In the summer months they either disbanded or, in some cases, settled down to play a summer season in a particular center. The American circuit was not so tightly organised as its British equivalent but it could be far more lucrative for shows or companies that caught the public’s fancy. St.Louis was regarded as a good theatre town, particularly in the summer months. Artistic life there tended to be conservative, perhaps reflecting the tastes of its large German population, but all types of musical theatre flourished. By the 1880s it was a mecca for traveling opera troupes of all kinds. In the middle of the year, when temperatures soared, Ford’s Comic Opera Company could count on a good welcome from the many St.Louisans who enjoyed spending an evening in the pleasant open-air surroundings of Uhrig’s Cave garden, where they could watch a show in comfort while sipping a cooling glass of beer or lemonade. Alice was destined to spend several summers at Uhrig’s Cave. The venue took its name from a deep cave on what is now the corner of Washington and Jefferson. In 1852, the land had been acquired by a local brewer, Franz Joseph Uhrig. At a time when 140 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

refrigeration was still a dis tant dream, he had conceived the idea of creating an underground area in which to keep his bottled beer cool. After digging out a huge cave 300 feet long, 100 wide, and 30 deep, plus a network of storage tunnels, he began selling cold beer directly from the property. His next step was to offer both refreshments and entertainment. When patrons complained that the cave was too chilly to sit in for long periods, he created a beer garden above ground. In 1873, the idea of presenting comic opera there in the summer was born. By the early 1880s, the garden at Uhrig’s Cave covered more than an acre of high ground in what was still a pleasantly rural- looking part of the city. There was seating for 1,600 among the trees and flowerbeds. A small stage, flanked by makeshift dressing rooms, had been erected at the southern end of the garden, and a two-story brick building on the south-eastern perimeter housed a bar on the lower floor and a large hall for wet-weather performances on the top. Uhrig himself had long departed. The refreshment and entertainment sides of the business were now run on separate leases. The entertainment lease had been held since 1879 by Pat Short, a lanky Irishman whose fierce military mustache belied his genial nature. He and his stage manager had an agreement with Ford under which Ford’s company presented the summer opera seasons at the garden. By 1883 Uhrig’s Cave was a fashionable and popular retreat. It was easily accessible by public transport, admission was cheap, and patrons could rely on seeing the latest and best light operas performed by artists who, if rarely of the top rank, were seldom less than competent. Ford’s Comic Opera Company was well into its summer program by the time Alice arrived. It had already presented Gilbert and Sullivan’s Iolanthe and Pirates of Penzance, Procida Bucalossi’s The Black Cloaks, Robert Planquette’s new comic opera, Rip van Winkle, and Strauss’s The Merry War. After a poor start, caused by fickle weather, the performances were attracting good crowds. The individual members of the troupe were the usual Ford mix of experienced artists, some of them slightly past their prime, and aspiring youngsters. William Howells Seymour headed the roster. Although not much of a singer, he was an excellent comedian who could turn his hand to just about anything theatrical and was deservedly popular with audiences. The leading tenor, Philip Branson, was a graceful actor with a honey-toned voice. Baritone Charles Dungan had previously sung with the prima donna Emilie Melville and would later reach the headier heights of a McCaull ALICE MAY 141

A view of Uhrig’s Cave gardens, St.Louis, Missouri, in 1870. Despite the sign, the venue was always known by the possessive form of its name. Courtesy Missouri Historical Society. company. He was a favorite with the ladies and had been dubbed “the Adonis of the stage” by the local press. Male patrons preferred the pretty faces and sweet voices of the sopranos Marie Bockel and Louise Eissig.The character female roles were handled by Genevieve Reynolds, a generously built lady with an onstage vivacity that equaled her girth. Completing the list of principals was a tall, good-looking bass-baritone, Louis W.Raymond, who had a fine voice but was too easygoing to make the most of his talents. The company’s musical director was William W.Furst, a young man who would go on to greater things as conductor-composer at San Francisco’s Tivoli Theatre and the Star and Empire theaters in New York Ford was a good employer whose artists often stayed with him for long periods. He and his wife made Alice feel very welcome. They even arranged a special supper party to introduce her to other company members and local supporters. Ford’s advance publicity billed Alice as an “Australian burlesque actress” of London fame. In fact, burlesque had not figured greatly in her 142 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

career to date, but thanks to her appearances in pantomime, she undoubtedly knew more about the requisite style than Ford. This was the reason he had hired her. He had never presented a burlesque before and wanted to test public reaction to the genre by staging the lat est hit from the pen of Britain’s most famous burlesque writer, F.C. Burnand. Bluebeard, or the Hazard of the Dye had been a resounding success when premiered in London just four months earlier, and it was still running there to packed houses. Burnand had not bothered to secure his rights over the libretto in America because he had been told that there was no American market for burlesque. Ford intended to exploit this oversight. On the basis of Alice’s London experience, he engaged her to play the title role and announced that the work would receive its American premiere at Uhrig’s Cave on July 23, 1883. Burnand’s Bluebeard was a typical example of a Victorian burlesque. It was based on a well-known story that had been twisted and embellished almost beyond recognition and turned into an amusing and extravagant piece of entertainment. Burlesques were renowned for low comedy and high-stepping dances. Costumes and settings were always spectacular, the situations in which the characters found themselves veered from ludicrous to crazy, lyrics were full of topical and satirical quips, and the dialogue was liberally sprinkled with excruciatingly contrived puns. As in the pantomime tradition of the “principal boy,” the hero’s role and one or two of the other male roles were played by young women dressed in costumes designed to show off their shapely legs and curvaceous figures. The chief “principal boy” had to be an artist of exceptional versatility: skilled in comedy, able to dance acceptably in a variety of styles, and an excellent singer. Some of the lesser ladies in a burlesque cast, however, were unashamedly chosen for looks rather than talent. The same was true of the female chorus. According to the St.Louis newspapers, few managers were able to recruit prettier chorus singers with better voices than Ford. The hero of Bluebeard, or the Hazard of the Dye is the seventeen- yearold Baron Abomelique de Barbe-bleue, a youthful descendant of the legendary Blue Beard. Instead of a beard, Abomelique sports a floppy lock of blue hair, which he has to dye secretly to maintain. This prompts a sequence of tortured puns on the subject of “hair dressers” and “heir dressers.” Abomelique falls in love with Lili, daughter of the elderly, impoverished Petipois. When she rejects him, he carries her off to his castle by force, along with her lover, ALICE MAY 143

F.C.Burnand, author of the burlesque Bluebeard, or the Hazard of the Dye, in which Alice made her St.Louis debut. Picture originally from the Illustrated London News, July 18,1891. Courtesy National Library of New Zealand.

Joliquet, and assorted other members of her family. Included among them are her brothers, two callow youths who affect the dress and mannerisms of “mashers,” the dandified ladies’ men of the time.The rest of the relentlessly punning libretto is concerned with Lili and Joliquet’s ultimately successful efforts to rescue everyone from Abomelique’s clutches. 144 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

Ford spared no effort to make Bluebeard a success, even asking Seymour to remodel and localize some of Burnand’s dialogue to suit American taste. He told the press that he expected the piece to be the hit of the season, but this looked unlikely as opening night drew near. First Bockel pulled out, suffering from overwork and ill health. Her role as Lili was taken over at four days notice by Eissig. Mamie Taylor, wife of the company’s music director, took on Eissig’s role as one of the brothers. The evening before the premiere, Branson fell ill. The only person who could be found to replace him as Joliquet was May Wilson, whom some newspapers described as his fiancée. Despite these adverse circumstances, Ford’s gamble paid off. Bluebeards merits were debated hotly in the press, with some critics complaining about the racy tone of the work, the many English allusions left in the text, and the way parts of ’s London score had been replaced by airs culled from Offenbach or specially written by Furst. The public’s reaction, however, was one of unreserved enthusiasm. Bluebeard drew such crowds that the first weeks receipts broke all records for performances at Uhrig’s Cave. The two artists who did most to ensure the works success were Seymour, who was in his element as the down-at-heel Petipois, and Alice. There was intense interest in Ford’s new prima donna and she did not disappoint. The New York Dramatic Mirror congratulated itself on having predicted that she “would redeem her New York failure whenever she should choose to appear in burlesque.” Its St. Louis correspondent praised her “charming stage presence.” She was “a good singer, a nice actress of the [Lydia] Thompson burlesque school, and…very good in

all she attempted.” The St.Louis Spectator’s theatre critic reported: Miss May is a finely formed woman with a too strong embonpoint, but she looks remarkably well in her stage costume. She speaks with a most pronounced English accent. Of her success there was no doubt. She is a clever actress with more than a soupçon of French chic, and she acts in a lively, dashing manner. Her voice is peculiar in quality, but pleasing, and she is evidently a cultured and artistic vocalist.

The same journal’s “Town Talker” columnist was moved to declare —perhaps slightly tongue-in-cheek—that when Alice “came ALICE MAY 145

tripping to the footlights, bowing and smiling so pleasantly, and looking so plump and pretty in her stylish costumes, we all just surrendered at once.” Alice had been engaged specifically for Bluebeard, but she fit in so well and made such a hit with the public that Ford offered her a contract for the company’s forthcoming tour. He and his artists usually stayed at Uhrig’s Cave until the end of August, but this year they left early because Ford wanted to capitalize on a number of special events taking place along the touring route. In Louisville, the company had the honor of inaugurating the newly renovated Macauley’s Theatre on August 13. The two-week season also coincided with a large influx of visitors to see the city’s grand exposition. Next stop was Lexington, then Cincinnati, where another special exposition was in progress. On September 10 the company arrived in Ford’shometown of Baltimore, just as the crowds began flocking in for the annual Oriole Festival. In 1881 this festival had attracted 150,000 visitors to Baltimore; numbers were said to have risen since. People came from miles around to marvel at the spectacular fireworks displays over the harbor and the famous nighttime pageant of floats featuring historical and patriotic tableaux. Many also found time to sample the cultural events on offer. The elegant oiled walnut and yellow damask auditorium of Ford’s Grand Opera House was crammed to capacity on September 10, 1883, to see the Baltimore premiere of Bluebeard, or the Hazard of the Dye. The work drew well throughout the week, apart from on the evening of the pageant. The first Baltimore performances of Rip van Winkle the following week were an even greater success. Many Americans knew the play of the same name by Dion Boucicault, and many more were familiar with the famous Washington Irving story on which it was based. Although Farnie’s libretto deviated somewhat from the original sources, enough remained for audiences to identify with. Planquette’s score may have lacked the distinctive qualities of his great hit, Les Cloches de Corneville, but it was unfailingly melodious and the American historical and geographical setting was an added bonus. Rip van Winkle had the potential to be a huge success in the United States. Because few theatregoers outside New York had yet been given the chance to see it, Ford’s version of the work was a big attraction wherever his company went. In Baltimore as elsewhere on the tour, the performers played it in spirited fashion. Seymour was good in the title role and Alice 146 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

was much admired for her portrayal of Gretchen, a loving, loyal wife in the comic opera, rather than the virago of Irving’s story. She had some of the best musical moments, including the splendid ballad, “The Legend of the Catskills” and the pretty “Twilight Shadows,” for which she was encored. Raymond was in fine voice as Derrick, the burgomaster who is about to throw Rip and Gretchen out of their home at the beginning of the opera, and the lovely Louise Eissig melted hearts as Katrina Vedder, one of the pair of young lovers whose trials and tribulations provided the work’s romantic subplot. Almost unnoticed in a tiny supporting role was a teenager named Della Fox, who was destined to become one of the great soubrette stars of American musical theatre in the 1890s. In later years, Ford was proud to boast that he had been the first to put her on the stage. From Baltimore, Ford’s Comic Opera Company went to Washington, D.C., for a week. On October 1 they opened in Pittsburgh, taking advantage of the crowds attracted by two special events occurring at the same time: a huge commercial and industrial exposition and an assembly of the Grand Army of the Republic, a powerful political and social organization of veterans who had fought with the Northern forces in the Civil War. Excursionists came in droves to see the exposition and an estimated 50,000 visitors arrived on the day the western Pennsylvania and eastern Ohio veterans paraded with their battle flags. All this extra activity resulted, as Ford had hoped, in bumper houses for his company. By now the two core works in the touring repertoire were well honed. Rip van Winkle was always a resounding success. Bluebeard had been improved by throwing away most of Furst’s interpolated music and replacing it with airs from other light operas. Critics still complained about the puns that, according to the Pittsburgh Commercial Gazette of October 2, 1883, “averaged about two to the spoken line and ranged from bad to excellent,” but audiences generally enjoyed the fun. Seymour and Alice continued to win the lion’s share of the applause. Their last-act duet, for which Seymour adroitly provided local jokes and allusions tailored to each of the cities visited, seldom failed to bring down the house. Philadelphia, the next port of call, was in festive mode as it celebrated the bicentenary of the arrival of its first German immigrants. The company’s opening night, October 8, 1883, coincided with the highlight of the celebrations: a 25,000-strong procession preceded by floats representing the principal events of ALICE MAY 147

German history. Ford chose to begin with Rip van Winkle, which he felt would make a stronger impact in Philadelphia than Bluebeard. This turned out to be a wise move. When Bluebeard opened, at the beginning of the second week, it was heartily disliked by most of the critics and did not draw as well as it had elsewhere. This was not the only disappointment. For the first time on tour, Ford and his artists encountered direct competition. While they played at the Lyceum, one of his former partner John A.McCaull’s comic opera troupes was ensconced at the Chestnut Street Opera House and the Rice Comic Opera Company was performing Iolanthe at the Arch Street Opera House. This surfeit of musical theatre affected attendance for all three ensembles. It was, unfortunately, symptomatic of the crowded state of the American entertainment market at the time. Since leaving St.Louis, Alice had visited many places new to her. The circumstances under which she toured were initially, however, very similar to those she had known in Britain: comfortable train journeys from one place to the next, well-appointed theatres, and seasons lasting a week or longer. Now the touring conditions became harder and more like those she had encountered in her early career as the company turned south to visit centers that were either smaller or less theatrically minded. Few were good for more than two or three performances. Through Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana the company went. By December it was whistle-stopping its way through Texas. As the venues flashed past, Alice must have been reminded of her hectic days on the Australasian touring circuit. It was easy to fall into slipshod ways when constantly on the move. By the time the troupe reached Tennessee, at the start of its return north, performers and performances alike had become decidedly ragged. Sensitive to criticism that the company was traveling on reputation rather than accomplishment, Ford allowed his artists several days off in Memphis over Christmas week. He also took the opportunity of tidying up the performances in preparation for a return to some of the cities visited earlier in the tour. During the sweep through the southern states, the company’s repertoire had changed. Bluebeard had been dropped in favor of Karl Millöcker’s 1882 Viennese hit operetta, The Beggar Student. Audiences were eager to see this new show, which was reputed to have been as popular as H.M.S.Pinafore in Europe. In a vivid demonstration of the way managers endlessly tried to preempt their rivals, the work had even received a double American 148 ADRIENNE SIMPSON premiere a few months earlier, one in New York, the other in Philadelphia. On October 19,1883, it had been given in German at the Thalia Theatre in New York with the great Viennese soprano Marie Geistinger donning male attire to play the leading tenor role of Symon, the beggar student of the title. The same evening, McCaull had brought out an English-language version at Philadelphia’s Chestnut Street Opera House that featured the tenor William Carleton as a more authentic Symon. When McCaull’s version moved to the Casino in New York ten days later, it was an instant success. This was hardly surprising, for Millöcker’s score was the finest he ever wrote, and the story, characters, and eighteenth-century Polish setting were out of the ordinary enough to be particularly attractive. The story, briefly, tells of the ineptly comical Ollendorf—in the English version, a general in the occupying Saxon army—who reacts badly to having his advances rebuffed by Countess Laura Nowalska. In revenge he frees two poor dissident students, Symon and Janitzky. He disguises them as “Prince Wybicki” and the “Prince ‘s secretary” and makes Symon woo the haughty Laura with a view to humiliating her. Being operetta, all ends happily. Ollendorf’s plans are foiled when Symon and Laura genuinely fall in love and Janitzky, in between directing the rebel Polish forces against Ollendorf, successfully courts Laura’s soubrette sister, Bronislawa. This Ruritanian fable suited the resources of the Ford company well. Branson, who was acknowledged as a tenor well above the usual touring company average, made an excellent Janitsky, Eissig was in excellent voice as Bronislawa, and Bockel looked lovely and sang well as Laura. The oddity of the production was that it followed the precedent set by Geistinger at the Thalia Theatre and featured Alice as a soprano Symon. Opinion was equally divided between those who felt the role was not as effective when played by a woman and those who thought Alice was excellent in the part. The company’s success with the piece was, however, short-lived. This had nothing to do with the standard of presentation, however; the fact was that Ford had no right to be staging the work at all. The problem stemmed from the vexed question of copyright. At this time, copyright in the United States extended only to works first published or performed here. If a work had originated in Europe it was fair game for any predatory American manager who could lay his hands on a playscript or vocal score. Technically, overseas authors and composers retained their rights over ALICE MAY 149

unpublished works, but in practice this gave little protection. If a show was a success it was always possible to pay someone to attend the theatre for nights on end to jot down the dialogue, or bribe orchestra members to let copyists see the band parts. For years British authors, in particular, had suffered from the depredations of American managers. It was not just the loss of royalties that rankled. British writers and composers hated the mutilation their works often suffered at the hands of the pirates and resented the fact that, while they were being ripped off in America, their American counterparts were being protected by Britain’s copyright laws. The chaotic copyright situation came to a head with Gilbert and Sullivan’s H.M.S.Pinafore. In 1879, over a hundred companies throughout America were known to have played unauthorized versions of the show, and some were so far removed from the original as to be scarcely recognizable. Only John T.Ford bothered to pay the authors a fee for staging their work. The money lost on American performances of Pinafore galvanized Gilbert and Sullivan’s manager, D’Oyly Carte, into finding a solution. He arranged that the pair’s future comic operas should have their British and American premieres on the same day, thus establishing copyright in both countries. Carte knew he could not stamp out piracy completely, and did not even try. Rather, he discouraged unauthorized performances by tying the perpetrators up with lawsuits and injunctions, at the same time working to convince audiences that the only productions worth seeing were those he officially sanctioned. Ford had taken advantage of the copyright situation when producing Bluebeard, or the Hazard of the Dye and had not paid the author a cent for the piece. But Ford’s former colleague McCaull had profited from Carte’s example, embarking on a policy of purchasing the American rights to any overseas comic operas that interested him and then using legal means to stop other managers from mounting them. In the case of The Beggar Student, his claim to have bought the American rights from the original authors for a five-year period was widely publicized in the press. He had already resorted to litigation against the managers responsible for the German-language version at the Thalia Theatre. As a result, they were now presenting the work under license to McCaull and paying him fees for the privilege. He was not prepared to let Ford get away with a pirated production. 150 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

By the time Ford’s Comic Opera Company opened its return season in Baltimore, on January 21, 1884, its right to stage The Beggar Student was being questioned. Two days earlier, the Dramatic Mirror had accused Ford of sharp practice “in appropriating another man’s property.” Meanwhile, McCaull had taken out an injunction against the company. This was not served quickly enough to prevent Ford and his troupe from completing their season in Baltimore, where they scored a distinct hit with both The Beggar Student and Rip van Winkle. As they headed off for a series of one-night stands in Pennsylvania and New York State, McCaull pursued them with injunctions. Retribution finally caught up with them during their stay in Rochester (February 11– 13). Ford had heavily advertised The Beggar Student in the next two tour venues, Syracuse and Buffalo, but when McCaull’s latest injunction was served on him he was forced to substitute Rip van Winkle instead. The Beggar Student had been intended as the main attraction for the rest of the tour. Now that he was legally prevented from staging it, Ford had little option but to cancel farther dates and bring the tour to an end on February 21, 1884, the last night of the Buffalo season. McCaull was jubilant. In a statement quoted in many newspapers he declared, “No matter what the expense is, or what opera is pirated, I will protect all the rights I have; and if every manager was as determined as I am there would be no more piracy.” For good measure, he emphasized his victory over Ford by immediately signing two of Ford’s principals—Alice and the bass- baritone Louis Raymond—for his New York company. Ford did not hold it against either of them, but he would have done well to heed the warning given by a theatrical columnist in the Philadelphia Press on March 9,1884: “John McCaull is a good deal of a fighter when he gets aroused, and he becomes aroused very easily.” Chapter 11 Playing the Casino

A fellow manager once dubbed John A.McCaull “dynamite John.” It was an apt description of his explosive temperament. He was fearsomely energetic, impulsive to a fault, kindness personified to those he liked, and implacably hostile to anyone who crossed him. Perhaps the only time he found an adequate outlet for his combative nature was during the Civil War, when he rose to the rank of colonel in the Confederate Army. Before becoming embroiled in the exciting, insecure world of theatrical management, he had spent more than a decade practicing law in Baltimore, the city in which he had been raised after emigrating as a boy from his native Scotland. Just how he came to be bitten by the theatre bug was something of a mystery, but it probably stemmed from his work as legal adviser to Baltimore’s most famous theatrical identity, John T.Ford. Ford gave McCaull his start in management. In 1879 he arranged for his son Charles to manage, jointly with McCaull, the D’Oyly Carte production of The Pirates of Penzance at the Fifth Avenue Theatre in New York. After the production transferred to the Bijou Theatre, McCaull bought out his partner and began to mount works on his own account. Though he had neither musical training nor performing experience, what he possessed was far more precious: a remarkable flair for promotion and the knack of picking the right people to help him. This combination of talents, allied to the legal skills that he did not hesitate to employ against rival managers, made McCaull a formidable figure in the world of musical theatre. At the time he engaged Alice at the end of 152 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

February 1884, he was responsible not only for the first-class comic company based at New York’s Casino Theatre, but also for the touring troupes associated with it. The Casino, the first theatre in the United States built expressly for comic opera, owed its existence to Rudolph Aronson, an idealistic New York-born entrepreneur who believed the city’s musical theatre audiences would respond well to a venue that offered them all the glamour of grand opera without any of the intimidating, elitist atmosphere. Aronson wanted the Casino to be opulent yet affordable. He planned to include amenities such as gaming rooms and restaurants so that customers could enjoy a complete entertainment package. Works produced there would look stylish, employ only the best singing and acting talent, and be specifically tailored to suit the tastes of middle-class New Yorkers. The accuracy of his vision was proved when the Casino opened in October 1882. Although the theatre was still unfinished and the roof leaked, the inaugural season of The Queens Lace Handkerchief-—an English-language version of one of Johann Strauss’s lesser works, Das Spitzentuch der Königin—was a hit with patrons.The Casino quickly became one of New York’s most important and attractive musical theatre venues. Its appeal was enhanced when Aronson opened a European-style roof garden in May 1884. This enabled performances to be taken out of the auditorium when the summer heat grew too stifling. Audiences loved the novelty of listening to music while sipping a cooling drink amid the tropical plants and colored lights of a garden set high above the Manhattan streets. Rudolph Aronson was a better musician than impresario. The pro motional expertise in the Casino’s early years was supplied by McCaull, who had apparently invested in the new theatre on condition that he provide the resident ensemble. Until 1885, when the two men parted acrimoniously after a dispute over who had artistic control, they complemented each other well. Between them they created one of the most exciting and prestigious musical theatre companies in the country. The Casino’s stock-in-trade was English versions of the latest works from Austria and Germany. Only a few productions were mounted each year, but they were presented so well that most ran for months. By the time of Alice’s engagement, the Casino company was generally known as McCaull’s Opera Comique Company and was large enough to be divided into two or three ensembles of almost equal quality. These were identified by the name of the work they ALICE MAY 153

Col. John A.McCaull. Courtesy Billy Rose Theatre Collection, New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations. each happened to be performing and their operations were carefully dovetailed. When a show finished at the Casino, the company playing it went out on tour while one of the troupes that had previously been touring returned to the Casino to present either a new work or one considered ready for a revival. Most performers moved between the different ensembles according to the requirements of the shows being presented, but there were a 154 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

few favorite artists who remained at the Casino whenever possible. It was a complicated logistical juggling act and the fact that it generally worked smoothly was a tribute to McCaull’s organizational skills. To be hired by McCaull was a step up for Alice. Not only were his companies among the finest on the circuit, they were also a focus of public interest because they presented the latest, most newsworthy works. By the time she joined McCaull at the end of February 1884, Alice was at an awkward crossover stage in her career. Her spreading figure and increasingly worn voice meant that her days as a prima donna were numbered. Although she had spent most of 1883 playing heroines and principal boys to good effect with the Ford company, there was little chance of ultracritical New York audiences accepting her in such roles. McCaull harbored no doubts about where her future lay. He had not hired her to play leading ladies or dashing young blades but for her ability to succeed in comic and character parts. Her first chance came as a replacement artist in a revival of Strauss’s 1881 operetta The Merry War (Der lustige Krieg). This had been running cheerfully at the Casino for several weeks. As it entered its second month, McCaull took the opportunity to make two important cast changes. He had fallen out with Lily Post, the soprano playing the principal role of Violetta, so he replaced her with a newcomer, Rosalba Beecher. At the same time he gave the part of Violetta’s armycommanding aunt, Princess Artemisia, to Alice. Beecher did not impress everyone. The New York Dramatic Mirror on April 12,1884, complained that her accession weakened the show because she was not pretty enough to compensate for her lack of acting ability. Alice, by, contrast, was considered a great improvement on her predecessor, Gertrude Orme. She was “exceedingly clever, having the vivacity, vigour and dash necessary to the interpretation of the amazonian Artemisia.” The consensus was that she divided the performance honors with her former Alhambra colleague Fred Leslie, who played the role of Balthasar Groot, the little Dutchman whose forced impersonation of a duke provided one of the sentimental and comical highlights of The Merry War’s endearingly idiotic story. Alice had hardly started in The Merry War before it was closed to make way for the Casino’s new attraction, Falka. This was an English adaptation by H.B.Farnie of Le Droit d’aînesse (The Birthright), a three-act operetta with music by Francis Chassaigne. ALICE MAY 155

In its original French guise the work had been a failure, but the Farnie version turned out to be a spectacular hit in English- speaking countries all round the world. This was remarkable considering the convoluted absurdities of a plot that involved a heroine, Falka, who disguises herself as her vanished brother, Tancred, in order to escape the unwanted attentions of her uncle, Folbach. Falka received its first American performance at the Casino on April 14, 1884, and instantly caught the imagination of New York audiences. Louis Raymond, Alice’s colleague from the Ford company, was assigned the minor role of Tekel in the new work. Alice was kept in reserve, as a future replacement for Mathilde Cottrelly, the superb comedienne who was one of McCaull’s finest artists as well as his behind-thescenes business partner. Cottrelly had been considering a visit to Europe. If she went, a quality artist would have to be instantly available to step into the important role of Edwige, the robber girl who agrees to rescue Tancred from brigands in return for a promise of marriage. While Cottrelly sorted out her plans, McCaull could not afford to leave Alice sitting idle. He dispatched her to play Artemisia with his Merry War Opera Comique Company, one of two companies he had out on the touring circuit at the time. It was the start of a frustrating few months for her. On April 14, the same day that Falka opened at the Casino, McCaull’s Merry War company began a four-week run at Haveley’s Theatre in Philadelphia. Beecher continued to play the role of Violetta; starring opposite her as Umberto was a McCaull stalwart, William Carleton. He was the brother of Frank Celli, who had worked with Alice in Les Mousquetaires au couvent at London’s Globe Theatre in 1880–81. A significant cast change saw Fred Leslie replaced as Balthasar Groot by an American-born up-and- coming musical comedian, Francis Wilson. Wilson was a thoughtful, intellectual man who had started his career in straight drama. His singing was mediocre, but he played the clown with refreshing subtlety and was a better actor than most of his rivals. Within two years he would become a major star. The Merry War was not new to Philadelphia, but it had never been seen in such an elaborate and well-drilled production before. Audiences were well pleased; the critics, rather less so. Alice came in for some acid comments on the grounds of overacting. “What she deems chic and abandon is but ungraceful posturing and crude noise,” complained the New York Dramatic Mirror’s local correspondent on April 26. He deplored Alice] crudity in giving the 156 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

warlike Artemisia an incipient mustache and betrayed a touch of Anglophobia with some adverse comments about her “London concert hall” accent. Philadelphia gave way to Chicago and a succession of poor houses. This was partly the result of stiff competition from other entertainments and partly because the management of Chicago’s McVicker’s Theatre, where the company played, had skimped on advertising. By now it was early June. Cottrelly had finally made up her mind not to visit Europe, so Alice was deprived of her chance to play a prime role in New York. Nevertheless, McCaull still had plans for her. He offered her the part of the School Directress in Lecocq’s Le Petit Duc, which he intended to revive as the Casino’s next attraction. Unfortunately for Alice, he had no idea when the revival would begin. The theatre’s current attraction, Falka, was exceeding expectations. Its continued popularity meant that it was unlikely to be taken off in the near future. This left Alice in limbo once the Merry War tour ended on June 14. In the end, McCaull agreed to release her temporarily so that she could spend the summer with Ford’s Comic Opera Company at Uhrig’s Cave. It was almost like coming home: indeed, Uhrig’s Cave, St. Louis, was the nearest Alice had to a home base during her American career. Ford and the garden’s entertainment manager, Pat Short, gave her a hearty welcome and she quickly settled back into an ensemble full of familiar, friendly faces. Among them was Louis Raymond, who had left McCaull’s Falka company some time earlier. He had not been difficult to replace. McCaull may even have hired him originally as a kindness to Alice, because it was no secret among members of the theatrical profession that she was developing an attachment to her handsome colleague. Ford’s roster for the summer season contained two notable newcomers. George W.Denham had taken Seymour’s place as chief comedian, and the new principal soprano was Blanche Chapman, who sang prettily and cultivated a deceptive air of fragility that made audiences and fellow artists alike feel that she needed cherishing. Business at the Cave was booming. Gilbert and Sullivan’s and Offenbach’s La Princesse de Trébizonde had already been presented successfully before Alice’s return. Public affection for the company was high. St.Louisans knew that it ranked a notch below top ensembles such as McCaull’s or the Boston Ideals Opera Company, but they had come to identify with the performers and were prepared to make ALICE MAY 157

allowances. The only contentious note was struck by the Spectator’s campaign against the “vile, disgusting, sickening, nerve-destroying, nauseating, emasculating, curse-provoking” smell of cigarette smoking at the Cave. Even this was a tempest in a teacup because the newspaper was happy to accept the “more manly and respectable” scent of cigars. The week of Alice s arrival, Ford launched what he hoped would be his major draw for the summer, a version of Planquette’s new three-act comic opera, Nell Gwynne. What was billed as the works American premiere took place at Uhrig’s Cave on June 30. It sparked more conflict between Ford and McCaull, because McCaull had purchased the American rights from the authors while on a fleeting visit to Europe earlier in the year. He had also picked up the original costume plates and production models and planned to mount the work in authentic style at the Casino just as soon as he had a gap in the schedule. The moment McCaull heard of Ford’s plans to present Nell Gwynne he started legal action against him. Ford’s version of the work was undoubtedly a long way removed from the original. It contained Planquette’s airs but with inferior orchestral accompaniments worked up from the vocal score by a local musician. The dialogue had little in common with the original libretto by the everpopular Farnie. Ford claimed to have taken most of it from the play that had inspired the comic opera, and to have spiced it up with topical gags of his own invention. Whatever the work’s derivation, audiences in St. Louis found it greatly to their taste. It attracted large houses throughout the first week of a projected two-week run. McCaull’s initial attempt to slap an injunction on the performances failed when the judge hearing the case decided that Ford could continue presenting the work so long as he changed its name. Accordingly, Nell Gwynne began its second week at Uhrig’s Cave under a new title: The Orange Girl. Alice’s return to St. Louis in the middle of this contretemps could not have been more timely. Blanche Chapman, who was playing the title role, fell seriously ill at the end of Nell Gwynne’s first week. To Ford’s immense relief, Alice was able to take over from her at short notice. The critics were impressed. She “did excellently” said the Mirror on July 12. “She is a wonderfully useful little woman, and remarkably quick in study.” The Spectator of the same date meditated on how different she was from Chapman. 158 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

Her voice is much more powerful and ringing. It is quite remarkable how she fills the garden space as a singer usually fills a hall or theatre. The quality is not as sympathetic as Miss Chapman’s. There is the same difference in their acting. Miss May puts great vigor and effort into the part. Miss Chapman is the more easy and natural. The two singers are a pleasing contrast.

St. Louisans had been happy to welcome Alice back for her own sake. They were even happier to applaud her for the way she had saved the show. By the time McCaull’s next injunction arrived, restraining Ford from presenting Nell Gwynne even under an alias, the two-week run was over and the company had moved on to a different work. Ford had been lucky to get away with this latest bit of piracy. His habit of putting on works to which McCaull laid claim seemed almost malicious. “Dynamite John” was prone to falling out with colleagues; indeed, one of the reasons he did not press his claim more vigorously in this case was that he was embroiled in other litigation. On July 8, 1884, he had been charged with assaulting his partner at the Casino, Rudolph Aronson—an incident that made a parting of the ways between the two men the following year inevitable. Perhaps the former partnership between Ford and McCaull had also ended more acrimoniously than either man cared to admit. The dispute over Nell Gwynne would certainly not be their last. The same day that McCaull was charged with assault on Aronson, Mathilde Cottrelly at last withdrew from Falka at the Casino. The opening came at the worst possible moment for Alice. She had just stepped in to help Ford by covering for Chapman’s illness and it was not in her nature to leave him in the lurch. So Rosalba Beecher was given Cottrelly’s role of Edwige and Alice again missed her chance to make a mark at the Casino. Le Petit Duc, for which she had already been cast, was now scheduled to replace Falka on August 4. This put her in a dilemma. Should she go back to McCaull as contracted, or stay with the Ford company? Chapman’s illness had been protracted, so Alice had enjoyed an extended return to the status of leading lady. Besides, she was happy in St. Louis, enjoying the companionship of friends and her romantic involvement with Raymond. Eventually she compromised, postponing her return to New York until the end of the summer season. ALICE MAY 159

On September 8, as Raymond and the other members of the Ford company prepared to leave St. Louis at the start of their annual tour, Alice finally acceded to the role of the School Directress in Le Petit Duc at the Casino. Her performance was not reviewed, which was hardly surprising. The production had already been running for a month and would continue, to excellent houses, until the beginning of October. There was always so much theatrical activity in New York that cast changes often rated only a passing mention, even in specialist theatre journals. Presumably Alice played the role to McCaull’s satisfaction, because he continued to employ her after the season ended. Partway through her engagement in Le Petit Duc Alice made a lightning visit to Baltimore where the Ford company was performing. There, on September 21, 1884, she married Louis W.Raymond. He said he was thirty-two and a widower. Alice subtracted several years from her age and claimed to be only thirty-one. He gave his profession as “actor”; she entered no occupation on the marriage certificate. This must have been an oversight because her engagement with McCaull was mentioned in several newspaper accounts of the wedding and there were sympathetic comments about the fact that the couple’s career commitments would keep them apart for some time. Frustratingly, none of the reports contained personal details about the groom. Descriptions of Raymond noted only that he was tall and good-looking, possessed a splendid bass-baritone voice, and was known to his intimates as Lew. Later scraps of information in the theatrical press suggested that he preferred conviviality to hard work and that he encouraged Alice s weakness for drink rather than fostering the strength she had begun to regain through her successes with Ford and McCaull. No doubt he had charm, just as Allen did. And like Allen, he was to prove unreliable—although there was no hint that Alice realized this when she made her vows before the Rev. Julius Sams of Holy Trinity Episcopal Church on a sunny Baltimore morning. The wedding took place in the lobby of Ford’s Grand Opera House. All the members of the Ford company, apart from its new prima donna, Zelda Sequin-Wallace, were present. Charles E.Ford gave the bride away and his younger brother, John T.Ford junior, the manager of the theatre, was an interested spectator. It was a cheerful occasion. All the men took turns to give the bride a hearty kiss, and rice and shoes were thrown as the newlyweds were handed into an open carriage after the ceremony. Ford and his 160 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

wife took them for a country drive before delivering them to one of the finest hotels in Baltimore, the Eutaw House, for their all-too- brief honeymoon. The following morning Alice returned to New York and her engagement at the Casino, while her husband resumed his duties with Ford’s Comic Opera Company in Baltimore. They would not see each other again for several months. When Le Petit Duc ended on October 4, Alice joined McCaull’s Falka touring company at the start of its month-long season in Philadelphia. She was part of an exceptionally strong cast that included two of the performers who had featured in the works first American performances: Bertha Ricci, who created the part of Falka, and Alfred Klein, who played the important comedy role of Pelican. The other principals included Francis Wilson as Folbach, George Boniface, Jr., as Tancred, and a fine German-born singer and actor, Hubert Wilke, in the role of the brigand, Boleslas. But again the plum part of Edwige eluded Alice; it remained in the hands of Rosalba Beecher and Alice was relegated to the minor role of Janotha, the landlady of the inn in which Tancred takes refuge after his escape from Boleslas. This did not mean that McCaull had lost faith in her talents. Beecher was the incumbent Edwige as well as something of a McCaull protégée—there was never any likelihood of Alice’s replacing her. The Falka company stayed in Philadelphia until November 8 and then adjourned to Boston’s Bijou Theatre for five weeks. It was the first time the new hit show had been seen in either city and the response in both was tremendous. Audiences relished the gypsy element in the score, enjoyed the clever comedy provided by Wilson and Klein, and marveled at the excellent stage settings. The closing act, which presented a vista of crag, castle, and moonlit river, was considered particularly fine. As a minor character Alice rarely featured in reviews, although the Boston Herald did note, on November 11, that she did the little she had to do acceptably. With only two venues, the tour was not arduous and it had some memorable moments. At Thanksgiving, the generous McCaull arrived from New York to treat his performers to a splendid dinner, and on December 11 the company helped the Bijou’s management celebrate the second anniversary of the theatres opening. Every woman in the audience that night received as a memento of the occasion a bangle inscribed with the words “Falka” and “Bijou.” Behind the scenes, the members of the Falka company had been rehearsing Johann Strauss’s operetta Prince Methusalem. At the ALICE MAY 161

end of the Boston season they hurried back to New York, where they opened in a revival of the work on December 15. The Casino’s previous attraction, Nell Gwynne, had done so poorly that McCaull had been forced to cut short its run. Prince Methusalem was hardly a novelty, and the story, about the conflict between two Ruritanian countries, Trocadero and Rikarak, was one of the silliest in comic opera, but the music oozed charm and McCaull hoped the piece would be an acceptable stopgap until he could introduce his newest acquisition, Carl Millöcker’s Apajune. Yet despite a good cast—Bertha Ricci as the Prince, Wilson as a splendidly droll Sigismund, Beecher as Pulcinella, A.W.Maflin in the role of Cyprian, and Alice as his comical wife, Sophistica—the revival did not draw, nor did it receive much coverage. The newspapers were far more interested in the latest squabbles between the opera impresario Mapleson and his bevy of colorful prima donnas, Patti, Scalchi, and Nevada. Prince Methusalem closed on January 10, 1885, and its cast was distributed between three McCaull companies. Wilson went into Apajune. Others were retained as the nucleus of a reconstituted Prince Methusalem company. Most, including Ricci, Klein, and Alice, returned to their previous roles in Falka and resumed their interrupted tour. They went first to Cincinnati. Next came St. Louis, where Ricci, a local girl, received an enthusiastic welcome and Alice “was reported sick,” a newspaper euphemism that probably disguised one of the alcohol-induced absences that were beginning to affect her career. In the last week of January, McCaull’s Falka company coincided with Ford’s Comic Opera Company in Louisville. This gave Alice the chance to see her husband for the first time since their wedding four months earlier. Winter was now biting with more ferocity than usual. Traveling became an ordeal and many touring companies lost money because theatregoers were disinclined to venture out on icy evenings. Alice and her colleagues were luckier than most. Snowstorms in Cleveland and Chicago rendered the streets of both cities near impassable, but attendance for Falka was surprisingly high. This was partly due to public interest in the new show and partly because McCaull ensembles had a better reputation for quality than the majority of their competitors. The bitter weather continued in Baltimore, which the tour visited for the week of February 16. Washington, Pittsburgh, Rochester, Brooklyn, and Albany followed. On March 25 the company reached Buffalo, where they were scheduled to play four performances of Falka and 162 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

one of Le Petit Duc at the Buffalo Music Hall, a handsome brick building with sandstone trimmings fronting onto Main Street. At around 7:45 that evening, as the gas jets bordering the stage were being lit in preparation for the performance, a huge tongue of flame suddenly flared out from one of them and ignited a piece of canvas nearby. Attempts to beat out the blaze only made it grow stronger. Soon the drop curtain caught fire and crashed to the stage, burning fiercely. This convinced the few patrons already in their seats that they were witnessing a genuine disaster and not— as some of them had first thought—an experiment. They fled for the exits. The fire spread behind them with astonishing rapidity. Flames from the stage were sucked up through the building’s ventilators and the wooden interior went up like tinder. An orchestral musician who unwisely went back to the property room to get his overcoat was forced to crawl through dense smoke to regain the pit. Once there, he took to his heels. When he reached the safety of an exit door, he looked back to see the entire auditorium engulfed in a cloud of choking fumes. The company members were getting ready in their dressing rooms when the fire struck. Some were partly made up, some half- clad, others already in costume. They had come straight to the theatre from the train, so they had all their belongings with them. The blaze took hold with such speed that they were able to save almost nothing. Ricci seized her fur cloak and a gold watch given her to commemorate the two hundredth performance of Falka, before rushing into the street. A stagehand stuffed some of her wardrobe into a trunk, which he dragged out with him. She was more fortunate than her colleagues. Klein joked that the only thing he had rescued, apart from himself and the clothes he performed in, was the appropriately titled book he had been reading: Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables. Once out in the street, the evening’s horrors were not over. The sound of fire alarms attracted swarms of sightseers. They hindered the distraught firemen, who were already struggling with hydrants rendered almost useless by lack of water pressure. Within minutes it was obvious that the Music Hall was doomed. Burning embers rained down on the nearby roof of St. Louis Roman Catholic Church. Soon it, too, was an inferno. The congregation attending Mass were evacuated in an orderly fashion but bystanders watched, in stricken silence, as firemen tried unavailingly to save a man trapped in the tower. The groan from ALICE MAY 163

the crowd as he finally plunged to his death could be heard several blocks away. Next morning the Falka company counted the cost. Apart from the performers’ personal clothing and effects, the losses for costumes alone were conservatively estimated at $15,000. Being theatre folk, there was never any doubt that the show would go on. The managers of the destroyed Music Hall took the company members to a shoe store and generously provided each of them with a pair of shoes. McCaull arrived from New York to assist his beleaguered troupe, bringing with him a complete new wardrobe. Within hours he had taken a lease on the vacant Court Street Theatre. That evening his company played to a packed house and he made a graceful speech from the stage to thank the people of Buffalo for their support. It took more than a fire to stop “dynamite John.” After Buffalo, the zest temporarily went out of the tour. Towns passed in rapid succession. Indianapolis gave way to St. Louis, Kansas City, Louisville, and Cincinnati. Prince Methusalem replaced Le Petit Duc as the backup to Falka. Wilson returned to bolster the company in Detroit, but even this did little to improve matters. There was nothing wrong with the performances, but commentators in several cities noted that the company was not attracting the audience numbers it deserved. McCaull’s high prices were not solely to blame. The winter had been one of the most difficult ever experienced on the touring circuit. Dreadful weather and an oversupply of entertainment had driven over thirty touring companies out of business, and many others were hanging on only by dint of reducing salaries or playing for expenses only. Under the circumstances, the Falka troupe had done well to survive. Business picked up with the spring. There were large and appreciative houses in Cleveland, Minneapolis, and St. Paul. In June the company reached Chicago, where it was to be based for the summer. But the prospect of spending a season there, away from her husband and playing only minor roles, did not appeal to Alice. Severing her ties with McCaull, she set out for St. Louis to rejoin the Ford company at Uhrig’s Cave. Chapter 12 “A Perfect Katisha”

Ford had ambitious plans for the summer of 1885, running one company throughout the season in Boston and another at Uhrig’s Cave. The program scheduled for Uhrig’s Cave was more demanding than in previous years. Patrons were promised performances of La Fille de Madame Angot, The Bohemian Girl, Fra Diavolo, Martha, Giroflé-Girofla, and, as a grand climax to the summer season, the St. Louis premiere of Gilbert and Sullivan’s latest success, The Mikado. Ford advertised in advance that he and his father had “secured from D’Oyly Carte rights to The Mikado in the Southwestern States.” St. Louisans would be among the first in America to see an authentic version of this eagerly anticipated work. Such a program demanded a strong company. Ford assured local newspapers that his forces for the 1885 season would not be found wanting. Among the returning artists were George Denham, Blanche Chapman, Alice May, and Louis Raymond. Several new principals had been engaged and the chorus greatly strengthened. Commentators soon found Ford’s claim about the chorus justified. It had been completely reorganized and included a number of “even prettier girls with better voices than their predecessors,” according to the St. Louis Spectator of June 13. Denham, Chapman, and Alice were welcomed back as established favorites whose skills could always be relied on. Raymond’s robust singing was an asset, but critics immediately noticed that his acting had not improved and he seemed intent on coasting through the season with the minimum of effort. The Spectator of June 20 tartly observed, “I ALICE MAY 165

suppose we will always see Raymond hereafter when Alice May appears.” Two of the new artists quickly demonstrated their quality. Harry Allen was a specialist in old men’s parts who had extensive Broadway experience. He proved to be a fine foil for Denham in comic roles. Ethel Lynton, a young soprano, was a graceful, delicate girl with a good voice and winning ways. The only disappointing recruit was the principal tenor, Alonzo Hatch. He was an indifferent actor and his admittedly sweet and true voice was far too small for outdoor performances. In fact, his main claim to fame seemed to be the inordinate number of times he had found himself stranded in bankrupt touring companies. The St. Louis press found his inadequacies amusing. As a columnist in the Spectator put it on July 25: “One sometimes wonders in duos and trios where the voice is that should accompany Mr Hatch’s facial expressions and gestures.” The 1885 summer season opened with the customary cold snap. Freezing temperatures and persistent rain drove the company indoors for the first few weeks, an unsatisfactory situation because the stage in the Uhrig’s Cave hall was too narrow to allow much movement. Chorus and soloists spent more time jostling for space than concentrating on their performances. The problems were compounded by Ford’s choice of La Fille de Madame Angot to open the season. It had never been particularly popular in St. Louis and did not show the company at its best. As a result, audiences were depressingly small. Because Ford’s policy was to play one work while rehearsing the next, it was several days before his second attraction, Fra Diavolo was ready to be introduced. Continuing poor weather meant that this, too, did not draw as well as expected. Commentators were surprised by the public’s indifference because they felt that the company presented the work very creditably. Alice was a splendid Lady Allcash, Lynton a promising Zerlina, and Allen acted well and sang acceptably in the title role. The weak link was the inaudible Hatch as Lorenzo. Ford promised that a better tenor was on the way; when he arrived, Hatch would be relegated to minor roles. Until then, patrons would have to bear with him. Meanwhile, in an attempt to compensate for the financial losses suffered so far, the Uhrig’s Cave entertainments manager, Pat Short, arranged for the company to play some Saturday matinees at the Olympic Theatre. These were so successful that they were continued throughout the season, sometimes with added incentives 166 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

to encourage full houses. One Saturday, for example, bottles of perfume were given away to all the women in the audience. By June 29 the company was able to move outdoors again, even though the temperatures remained chilly. To enliven proceedings, Ford also modified his program and put on a popular draw, The Pirates of Penzance. Alice was in her element as Ruth, Denham made an excellent General Stanley, and even Raymond excelled himself with a dashing performance of the Pirate King. Hatch, as Frederic, showed glimpses of better acting but only those in the front few rows could hear what he sang. As if an underpowered tenor and weeks of poor weather were not enough, Short and Ford also found themselves faced with competition for the first time. Schnaider’s Garden, a large pleasure garden in the northwestern part of the city, opened in early July. The resident comic opera troupe there was not as good as Ford’s, but because Schnaider’s Garden served nothing stronger than lemonade it speedily became the venue of choice for St. Louisans who disapproved of alcohol being available at public performances. The novelty of having two rival pleasure gardens in operation stimulated a writer in the July 4 issue of the Spectator to versify:

Schnaider’s Garden and the Cave, Where the shady branches wave, With al fresco pleasures rare, Music, dancing, balmy air, Invite you when the day is done, With fair prospect of joy and fun. At the one, beneath the shade, Flows the sweetened lemonade, Recalling in a pleasing way, The glories of a circus day; At the other place appear Brimming cups of lager beer That charm the folks of every age And hide the blunders on the stage.

The comment about onstage blunders was unkind. Ford’s troupe was a generally well-disciplined organization, even if its opening performances of La Fille de Madame Angot were rather underrehearsed. As if to prove the writer’s point, the onset of milder weather, which coincided with the introduction of Giroflé-Girofla on July 8, ALICE MAY 167

induced an unaccustomed air of levity at Uhrig’s Cave one Sunday evening. Lecocq’s clever opéra-bouffe turned out to be the hit of the season, and the large attendances and universal appreciation it attracted did much to raise the troupe’s spirits. They overflowed according to the July 18 Spectator, at a Sunday-evening performance, which:

was something out of the usual professional run. Every one on the stage, from Harry Allen to the meek-eyed chorus girl on the right, who seldom looks happy, seemed to be in an hilarious mood and rushed the business through in “whoopla” style. Denham began the fun early in the play by forgetting his lines and introducing some new business into the part of Don Balero…. This set Alice May giggling and then the dear little chorus girls caught the inspiration and became lively too…. When Denham fell into Alice May’s arms at the end of the second act she let him fall to the stage, so that at the beginning of the third act they looked at each other very coolly. But he began his extravagances again, and she renewed her giggles.

The performers continued their antics for the rest of the performance. Even Hatch “felt inspired and sang louder than usual.” The packed audience entered into the unruly spirit of the occasion with gusto, demanding numerous encores and applauding enthusiastically at the end. In mid-July, Ford began promoting his production of The Mikado. He mounted an extensive advertising campaign and sparked additional interest by distributing souvenir Japanese fans to those attending per- formances at Uhrig’s Cave. The Mikado had taken London by storm from the moment of its first performance at the on March 14, 1885, and appeared likely to create just as much of a sensation in America. Ford had invested considerable time and money in buying the rights to the work and confidently expected it to be the hit of the St. Louis summer season. His main fear was a preemptive strike from a rival company. It would be a salutary experience for a manager who had unblushingly pirated works from others in the past to find himself on the opposite side of the fence. Ford’s apprehension was well founded. Carte’s efforts to protect the work’s copy and stage rights in America had gone awry because the score and libretto had been published, inadvertently 168 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

putting the work into the public domain. Already the colorful impresario Sydney Rosenfeld had staged a production in Chicago on July 6. Before Carte’s legal team put a stop to his activities, Rosenfeld also managed to give the New York premiere at the Union Square Theatre on July 20. Ford knew that a troupe called the Thompson Opera Company was threatening to visit St. Louis with another version of the work. He took out an injunction against its managers and meanwhile redoubled his efforts to get his own production onstage as soon as possible. Ford’s St. Louis premiere of The Mikado took place on July 25, and was the first authorized performance of the work in America. The chance to see Gilbert and Sullivan’s latest and—according to reports from London—greatest success, played in an officially sanctioned version, drew crowds to Uhrig’s Cave. Every seat was full on opening night. To emphasize the celebratory nature of the occasion, the trees in the garden had been festooned with Japanese lanterns, and more lanterns lighted patrons to their places. The Cave’s small orchestra, augmented by members of the Arsenal Band, played the overture in fine style. When the curtain rose and the Gentlemen of Japan introduced themselves, there was a torrent of applause for the rich and picturesque costumes and pretty set. Soon, however, it became clear that some of the principals were less sure of their roles than they should have been, and a feeling of anticlimax set in. Lines were forgotten, stage business neglected. Denham marred his genuinely funny portrayal of Ko-Ko by mumbling his way through the patter song “I’ve Got a Little List.” Raymond’s commanding figure and resonant voice suited the title role, Allen was rough-voiced but effective as Pooh-Bah, and Louis Carlberg’s Pish-Tush made up in accuracy what it lacked in imagination. Hatch was sweet-toned if only intermittently audible as Nanki-Poo. The three little maids, Lynton (Yum-Yum), Nellie Page (Pitti-Sing), and Fatmah Diard (Peep-Bo), giggled too much, although Lynton sang her solos well. Unfortunately, the overall performance standard was closer to that of a dress rehearsal than a premiere. Ford, in his anxiety to get in first, had rushed the production onstage before it was ready. The critics rated only one artist an unqualified success: “Alice May redeemed the sluggish acting of the others, and made a perfect Katisha,” reported a reviewer in the Spectator on August 1. Other writers agreed. Alice gave by far the best the best performance of the evening and her ballad, “Hearts Do Not Break,” was so loudly applauded that she had to sing it again. ALICE MAY 169

The immediate critical reaction to The Mikado in St. Louis was surprisingly unenthusiastic. Many writers were clearly puzzled by the work. Some dismissed the formality of the Japanese movements as mere posturing, others thought the costumes uncouth. The local correspondent of the Clipper did not mince his words. “It will never prove very popular except as a showy opera,” he assured readers in the August 1 issue. On August 8 he advised that there was “nothing in the opera to recommend it and managers had better let it severely alone.” Unsure how to treat such a novel work, commentators in some St. Louis newspapers fell back on disparaging the company that had performed it. This brought a trenchant response from a columnist in the August 8 Spectator who wondered why critics who happily accepted the Ford troupe’s imperfections in familiar works were suddenly moved to savage the company when it played a new work to the same standard. Ford should be given credit for enabling St. Louisans to see The Mikado so quickly. New works did not normally reach the city until a year or more after their first production in New York. Moreover, as the available patronage in St. Louis was not large and the prices charged extremely reasonable, it was ridiculous to expect Ford to provide a star-studded cast: “There are bad actors and poor singers in the company but there are also good ones. Under such circumstances, viewing the performance in the proper light, the ‘Mikado’ should be generously received. It will be a long time before we shall hear it by what is vaguely termed a first-class company.” Despite the strictures of the critics, the public soon warmed to The Mikado. Uhrig’s Cave was crammed night after night by audiences eager to see the show. As the performers became familiar with their roles, the production ran more briskly. A new piece of stage business was accidentally introduced at the beginning of the second week. Each time Raymond, as the Mikado, ended his refrain “My object all sublime,” the women of the chorus were supposed to execute a few dance steps. One night a young chorus member, Blanche Nicholls, captured the audience’s heart with a tiny solo that seemed to imitate the actions of a duckling frantically trying to swim ashore. Raymond, mystified at receiving five encores, was disgusted to discover that the applause was not for him but for Nicholls. Her impromptu dance made such a hit that it became a permanent feature of the show and she was given a character name, Lum-Tum. 170 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

The second week of The Mikado season was also notable for Hatch’s resignation. He had taken umbrage at his poor reviews. After a frantic search, Ford engaged a young Italian immigrant, G.Servini, who turned out to have a strong, clear voice and much better acting skills than his predecessor. Although he had a noticeable accent, his words were reasonably clear and he won encores where Hatch had been listened to in polite silence. Strengthened by Servini’s arrival, The Mikado continued to attract overflowing houses. On August 17 it entered its fourth week at Uhrig’s Cave. Receipts were far ahead of those for anything else the company had presented and a correspondent in the Dramatic Mirror observed on August 22 that the best evidence of the works popularity was “the familiarity of the many catching airs, which are whistled on the streets, and hummed these beautiful summer evenings, while the libretto also has many bright witticisms, which are heard on every side.” Alice remained the linch pin of the production. All the critics agreed that her performances were exceptional. A writer in the Spectator on August 15 summed up the general feeling well: “Alice May has found a part in which she is a star, and of all the companies which will sing the opera next winter not one will have a Katisha more thoroughly artistic.” On August 19 Carte’s own production of The Mikado opened at the Fifth Avenue Theatre in New York City. Five days later a well- known manager, James C.Duff, rushed a competing version onto the stage of the Standard. For the next three months, until Duff lost heart and took his inferior Mikado on the road, Broadway was enlivened by the sight of rival productions squaring off against each other. Ford, meanwhile, was getting ready to exploit the rights he and his father had purchased. He advertised that his authorized version of The Mikado would shortly tour “Maryland, Virginia, Kentucky, Missouri and all states South of them,” beginning with a season in Baltimore from August 24. Several key members of the cast, including Alice, Denham, Allen, and the “Lum-Tum girl,” Blanche Nicholls, were dispatched to Baltimore to prepare for the opening night. The rest of the troupe stayed behind to finish off the Uhrig’s Cave summer season with a few performances of The Merry War and La Grande-Duchesse de Gérolstein. Baltimore was agog to see The Mikado. It was rapidly becoming one of the most talked about theatrical attractions of the day. Ford’s Grand Opera House was packed to capacity on August 24 and those who saw the show seemed well satisfied. The stage sets ALICE MAY 171

and costumes excited universal admiration and almost all reviews praised the unusually large chorus, which according to Ford numbered sixty voices. Alice was the pick of the performers, closely followed by Denham, who had developed into a splendidly funny Ko-Ko. There were words of encouragement for a young local amateur, Sherwood Royston, who made his professional debut in the role of Pish-Tush, and Nicholls’s eccentric little dance went down well. The other principals were effective with the exception of the new Yum-Yum, Pauline Harvey. Reviewers disliked her style of singing and found her voice harsh and unpleasant. Despite her deficiencies The Mikado drew consistently good houses in Baltimore. The highlight of the two-week season was a visit from Carte, who came down from New York especially to attend a performance. What he thought of it was not recorded, but his presence in the audience as a guest of the Ford family gave the production what amounted to an official seal of approval. From Baltimore the company moved on to Washington, D.C., where the Ford production was billed as “the real Mikado.” Although it did reasonably well at the box office, many reviewers were unaccountably dismissive of the work. Washington, however, was out of step with the rest of America. By September 21, 1885, when Ford and his forces returned to give further performances in Baltimore with an improved cast that included Louis Raymond— released from duties at Uhrig’s Cave—in the title role and a new Yum-Yum, Mabel Haas, Mikado mania was becoming endemic throughout the country. A dozen different companies were advertising versions of the work, but all except those presented by Ford and Carte were unauthorized. Before the year ended, America would be awash with productions of The Mikado. On September 30, the members of the Ford troupe departed by steamer for Richmond, Virginia, to begin the most arduous part of their tour, the South. The touring conditions were no worse than those Alice had experienced with the company in 1883, but her health was now less robust and the constant packing up and unpacking soon took its toll. After a succession of two—and three- night stands in Richmond, Norfolk, Charleston, Savannah, Augusta, and Atlanta, the company arrived in New Orleans for a fortnight’s stay. Alice almost immediately took to her bed. She was unable to perform for several days and one of the men from the chorus had to step in and play Katisha as a “dame role.” Although newspaper reports said she was suffering from a cold, her illness was almost certainly alcohol-related. When Alice spent lengthy 172 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

periods in familiar surroundings such as Uhrig’s Cave her drinking was largely under control, but the strain of being constantly on the move sapped her energy and seemed to arouse her latent feelings of insecurity. She responded by drinking heavily to keep herself going, and her bouts of “indisposition” occurred more frequently as the tour progressed. Toward the end of November, her health broke down completely and she and her husband withdrew from the tour. A month later, Alice had recovered sufficiently for them to join another company. An impresario named Harry Mahn had been running a troupe at the Arch Street Opera House in Philadelphia since September 1885. He had enjoyed surprising success there, most notably with an unpretentious but spirited production of The Mikado that was the first seen in the city. A critic in the September 27 Philadelphia Record memorably had dismissed the new work as “musical root beer and dramatic soda pop,” but this did not deter Philadelphia’s theatregoers, who flocked to see it in unprecedented numbers. Mahn’s version of The Mikado ran successfully for a month, despite the arrival of two competing productions, including one performed by a star-studded McCaull company. Mahn was a shrewd operator. Although he played at cheap prices, he offered quality performances. When Alice and Raymond joined him in late December to take part in a Christmas revival of The Mikado, they found themselves part of a company that would not have been a disgrace in most New York theatres. It was headed by Alice’s former costar in Jeanne, Jeannette et Jeanneton at the Alhambra, Lizzie St. Quinten. The leading tenor, Charles Campbell, had previously sung with Emily Soldene, and the soubrette was a pretty young singer from Tennessee named Tellula Evans, who had recently returned from studying and performing in Europe. The principal baritone, Edward Connell, had a wealth of English experience. He and Alice had worked together in Richard W. South’s company in 1877. Mahn’s recast revival of The Mikado opened on December 21, 1885, and was a resounding hit.” Vocally the performance was delightful, as the repeated encores testified,” declared the Philadelphia Record of December 22. “The honors were about equally divided among the principals, although the new Mikado, Mr. Raymond, and Alice May as Katisha must be credited with extraordinary successes. These two newcomers are the best that have ever been seen here in their respective roles.” Evans was ALICE MAY 173

a little quiet as Pitti-Sing, but this hardly mattered, since St.Quinten’s Yum-Yum was “exuberant enough for both.” Campbell sang well as Nanki-Poo and Connell was a clever, if occasionally rather careless, Pooh-Bah. The only disappointment was the sudden withdrawal through illness of the scheduled Ko-Ko. The role was taken over at short notice by the stage manager, Kirtland Calhoun, to no one’s satisfaction. This drawback did not dampen public enthusiasm, and the Arch Street Opera House nearly burst at the seams throughout the holiday period. On many evenings hopeful patrons had to be turned away at the doors. On January 18, 1886, J.C.Duff brought his version of the work to the Walnut Street Theatre, but it proved no match for the Mahn production. A ten-cent Mikado at the Dime Museum on Ninth and Arch fared little better. When McCaull announced that his Mikado company would return to Philadelphia on February 8 and another entrepreneur began promoting a juvenile version of the work, it looked as if the city would soon have five productions of The Mikado running concurrently. No comic opera had ever created such a furor. Mahn was too astute to compete against such a weight of opposition. He announced that his production would close at the end of January. As a special attraction for the final week of the season, he hired what was billed as the “Imperial Dragon Orchestra of authentic Japanese instruments” to perform during the intermission between the acts. Theatregoers were mystified by the experience. “These saffron-hued barbarians thrummed strange and dissonant mandolins, beat with incessant vigor upon oddly shaped cymbals and monotonous tom-toms, and chanted wild melodies of their native land in phrases that defied all the laws of harmony,” reported the Philadelphia Record on January 26. Mahn’s leading artists, however, “acquitted themselves admirably notwithstanding the disturbance.” The subsequent discovery that the supposed Japanese performers were all Chinese, playing Chinese instruments, raised few eyebrows. At the time few Americans knew enough about either culture to differentiate between them. By the time McCaull arrived back in Philadelphia with his production of The Mikado, Mahn had launched a new attraction. Princess Toto, a three-act comic opera with delightful music by Frederic Clay and one of W.S.Gilbert’s best librettos, had originally been written for Kate Santley in 1876. Through poor management it had failed at its New York premiere in 1879 and had since 174 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

become something of a rarity. Mahn was widely praised for mounting an intelligent, well-organized performance of the piece that gave full value to the best numbers in the score. Because St. Quinten had left the company for another engagement, Tellula Evans starred as the absent-minded princess of the title. Campbell and Calhoun were the two “husbands,” Doro and Caramel, whom she inadvertently marries. Both Campbell and W.H.Montgomery, who played Portico, had been in a previous Philadelphia season of the work and were regarded as excellent exponents of their roles. Alice, in the soubrette role of Jelly, also came in for praise. Princess Toto ran for a month. It was succeeded by Fra Diavolo for a week. Next came Olivette, which featured Ethel Lynton, the young soprano who had been with Alice and Raymond at Uhrig’s Cave during the summer. She had then joined Mahn briefly until replaced by St. Quinten. Lynton’s advent brought the Mahn troupe back up to strength. The impresario was now ready to take his ensemble on tour, beginning with an engagement at the Bijou Theatre in Boston. Built in 1882, the Bijou had been the first American theatre to be completely equipped with electric lighting. It was a pretty little venue that no one seemed able to make pay. Mahn proved no exception. His company had drawn well in Philadelphia against stiff opposition, but in Boston it fared very badly. Bostonians preferred to patronize the McCaull company’s performances of The Black Hussar, a work that, ironically, had been poorly received in Philadelphia. The tastes of the two cities were clearly miles apart. Princess Toto lasted just a week before Mahn decided to take it off and play his trump card, The Mikado. The result was disastrous. D’Oyly Carte had learned of Mahn’s unauthorized Mikado performances in Philadelphia too late to do anything about them, but he did not miss his chance in Boston. Because he could not prevent use of the already published vocal score and libretto, he lodged an injunction against Mahn’s use of Sullivan’s orchestration. Another manager, John Stetson, to whom Carte had also apparently sold rights, lodged a similar injunction. The local circuit court judge ruled that Mahn must play the work without orchestral accompaniment. Accordingly, his version of The Mikado premiered at the Bijou on March 22,1886 to the sound of two pianos and an organ. Critics were favorably impressed by Mahn’s principals, particularly Alice, who was considered a brilliant Katisha, and Campbell, who made more of the role of Nanki-Poo than any ALICE MAY 175 previous interpreter seen in Boston. Some even felt that the lack of orchestral backing enhanced the performances because the artists had nothing to hide behind: They were forced to sing their best. Audiences, however, did not share this purist view, and stayed away from the Bijou in droves. Mahn gave up the unequal struggle after a week of lamentably small houses. It was the end of the road for his company and a graphic illustration of the fine line between theatrical success and failure. An ensemble that had prospered for months in one city had been destroyed in weeks when it ventured to another. Chapter 13 Downward Spiral

The demise of the Mahn company was the first in a series of disasters that sent Alice’s career plummeting downward. Over the next few months she went from one crisis-ridden troupe to another, all the time becoming more dependent on alcohol for solace and support. At first, her situation looked deceptively promising. She and Raymond, along with several other members of Mahn’s former troupe, were able to secure engagements with a new comic opera company being formed at the Criterion Theatre, Brooklyn. Given that they had been thrown out of work at a time when most ensembles were fully staffed for the season, this seemed a piece of unusually good fortune. The managers of the Criterion had decided to establish a company of their own because they believed audiences would welcome an alternative to The Mikado. Brooklyn had been inundated with performances of the work during March and early April 1886. The Templeton company had played it at the Park Theatre; the Duff “Mikado” company, at the Academy; and the Alfa Norman troupe, at the Brooklyn. An amateur ensemble, the Church Choir troupe, had only recently finished a season at the Criterion itself. And Brooklynites had easy access to Broadway, where D’Oyly Carte’s official production was still running strongly at the Fifth Avenue Theatre. Brooklyn was sick and tired of The Mikado, so the idea of putting an ensemble together to mount a spring season of older Gilbert and Sullivan comic operas at the Criterion seemed an inspired one. ALICE MAY 177

The management’s first mistake was to hand the responsibility for organizing their new company to Robert Grau, a writer, producer, and manager with a poor track record, whose only recommendation was his relationship to the illustrious opera impresario Maurice Grau. Their second miscalculation was to economize in the preparations for the season. Costumes were hired from a rival manager, John Templeton, scenery was minimal, the chorus only twelve strong, and the orchestra too small to do the scores justice. Worse, not enough care was taken to make sure all the performers were up to the necessary standard for Gilbert and Sullivan. On April 26, 1886, the hastily assembled Criterion company made its debut in Patience. The critics were unimpressed. “With the exception of Alice May’s Lady Jane, which was excellent, and Alice Vane’s Lady Angela, also good…the performance was below mediocrity” wrote one waspish columnist for the New York Clipper on May 1.Alice’s former associate from Uhrig’s Cave, William Howells Seymour, “had not the least conception of the part of Bunthorne, and he simply burlesqued the character, while Eugene Clark was no better as Grosvenor.” Patience played for a week, to understandably meager houses, before being replaced by The Pirates of Penzance. This stretched the company’s thin resources to their limit. Reviewers ridiculed the production for having only six in the policemen’s chorus and found fault with most of the soloists. Exceptions were made for Charles Campbell’s Frederic and Raymond’s sonorous Pirate King. Alice, as Ruth, was again “the brightest member of the cast,” according to the New York Dramatic Mirror of May 8. At the beginning of the second week, the company members grew concerned about their salaries and on May 3, they demanded payment. When this was not forthcoming by the following evening, they refused to take the stage. The reason why no one had been paid was soon apparent: Grau had decamped with the previous week’s takes. To help keep the season afloat,Templeton generously agreed to forgo the hire fees for his costumes, and the Criterion’s embattled management offered to share future receipts on a fifty- fifty basis if the performers would carry on. A few, mainly singers from the chorus, refused, which scuttled any hope of pro longing the season. The troupe was disbanded and Alice and her husband found themselves out of work once more. Normally they would have gone to Uhrig’s Cave for the summer, but Ford—who was recovering from the financial effects of 178 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

overstretching his resources the previous season—had decided against running a company there in 1886. Raymond failed to find an immediate engagement. Alice’s reputation, however, was still strong enough to interest managers and she was eventually hired to join the troupe performing for the summer season at Albaugh’s Grand Opera House in Washington, D.C. This was a comfortable theatre where patrons were made to feel very welcome. Cynics suggested that these qualities, rather than the expertise of the resident ensemble, accounted for the venue’s popularity, and certainly few of the performers at Albaugh’s would have made the grade in a McCaull company. But perhaps the cruelest blow to Alice’s pride was the fact that the troupe’s leading lady was a former acquaintance from Lyster days, Jeannie Winston. If Alice needed any proof of how far she had fallen, Winston provided the stark evidence. Once an inferior aspirant to Alice’s crown as the reigning queen of opéra-bouffe in the Australian colonies, she was now the star of a second-rate company and Alice merely one of her supporting artists. Alice’s first role at Albaugh’s was scheduled to be the Marquise in The Golden Hen, an English version of Edmond Audran’s opéra- comique Serment d’amour. This tuneful piece, with its tired old story about a penniless peasant girl who wins the love of a count despite the efforts of his harridan aunt (the Marquise) to prevent the match, had flopped everywhere but in Paris and, somewhat surprisingly, the United States, where half a dozen different versions were in the process of springing up. The work had just achieved notoriety in New York, thanks to an extraordinary case of entrepreneurial rivalry. McCaull had opened a version under the title of The Crowing Hen at Wallack’s Theatre on May 29, 1886; Messrs Rosenfeld, Miles, and Barton countered with a different translation called The Bridal Trap at the Bijou two days later. The two theatres faced each other across Broadway, and Rosenfeld and his colleagues hired a stereopticon to project insulting comments about The Crowing Hen from the roof of the Bijou onto the Wallack’s facade. McCaull fought back, shining lights to block out the insults and then using another stereopticon to fire inflammatory remarks at the Bijou.The battle enthralled New Yorkers and made audiences elsewhere keener to see Serment d’amour than they might otherwise have been. Although Alice had been cast in the work, she never played the role assigned to her. Instead, she left Washington abruptly a few days after her arrival. No reason was given, but illness, alcohol- ALICE MAY 179

Jeanie Winston, Alice’s former Australian colleague, whom she encountered again in Washington, D.C., in 1886. Portrait from the Australasian Sketcher, May 15, 1875. Courtesy Alexander Turnbull Library, National Library of New Zealand. related or otherwise, might have been the cause, although it is equally likely that she chose to leave after she realized what kind of troupe she had joined. Although the repertoire at Albaugh’s was orthodox, the performances tended to be outrageously risqué in 180 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

style. The leading male roles in operas such as Fra Diavolo were invariably appropriated by Winston so that she could show off her legs to maximum effect in masculine attire. While Alice was rehearsing for the opening of The Golden Hen, Winston adopted women’s clothes for the first time in the season. She appeared as Mademoiselle Lange in La Fille de Madame Angot and proceeded to scandalize the public with an immodest costume featuring a skirt long at the back, abbreviated at the front and split to the waist on either side to display her legs clad in black hose to midthigh, with nothing but skin-coloured tights above. Winston’s way with comic opera was to turn it into titillation for the wilder members of Washington’s male population. For Alice, after a career spent for the most part in quality musical-theatre companies, the low tone and poor standard of the troupe at Albaugh’s may have more than she could bear. Whatever the reason, she withdrew from the production of The Golden Hen at the last minute. Her place was taken by an old Uhrig’s Cave colleague, Blanche Chapman. The New York Dramatic Mirror carried a news item in its July 10 edition, which read: “Mr. and Mrs. L.W. Raymond (Alice May) will spend the remainder of the summer at Utica, N.Y.Miss May is one of our leading mezzo-sopranos, and Mr. Raymond has a fine reputation as a basso. They are at liberty.” There was no further news of the couple until mid-November 1886, when Alice joined the Lilian Conway Company in Philadelphia. Conway came from a famous theatre family. Her parents, Mr. and Mrs. F.B.Conway, had held distinguished positions on the American stage from the 1850s to the early 1870s. Her brother, Frederick Booth Conway, and her sister Minnie—better known as Mrs. Edmund Tearle—were both popular performers. Lilian had enjoyed reasonable success as an ingenue before leaving the stage to get married. Her marriage had recently ended and she was trying to establish a new career for herself in light opera. So far, her efforts had been largely confined to Philadelphia, the city that had been her home for many years and where she could count on being favorably received. The Philadelphia critics were not blind to Conway’s faults. Her robust soprano tended to roughen when pushed and her intonation was often faulty. On the other hand, few prima donnas could wear glamorous costumes with such style. An enterprising local manager, W.S.Moore, had been so convinced of Conway’s drawing power that he built a company around her for the 1886 summer ALICE MAY 181

season. This proved such an unexpected success that he arranged for it to play a few dates at venues in New York and New Jersey at the end of the summer. Following some much-needed strengthening, the Lilian Conway Company was now back in Philadelphia rehearsing La Fille de Madame Angot and an unspecified “New opera,” in preparation for what Moore hoped would be an extended season. Alice joined the company there on November 14. Her husband was not with her; he was said to be still looking for an engagement. From the time Alice joined the Conway company, she and Raymond lived mostly apart. This was not an unusual situation for theatrical couples, who were often constrained by the available opportunities and could not always find work together. The difference, in Alice’s case, was that she continued to pursue whatever engagements were on offer while her husband increasingly avoided any form of employment. Comments in the theatrical press at the time of Alice’s death made it clear that she sent money to support him when he was out of work and that he was happy to live on her earnings. She had succumbed to the charms of a handsome wastrel and was paying the price. When the Conway production of La Fille de Madame Angot opened at the Arch Street Theatre, Philadelphia, on November 29 it faced stern competition. One of McCaull’s companies was in town with a revival of The Mikado, and the Temple Theatre was drawing packed audiences every night for its unpretentious staging of The Little Tycoon, a revival of an original comic opera by a local author, Willard Spenser. Despite the pull of these rival attractions, La Fille de Madame Angot went down well with the public. Conway, who played Mademoiselle Lange, was almost overwhelmed by the warmth of her reception. Alice took the part of the jolly fishwife, Amaranthe. It was the kind of character role that suited her best at this stage of her career and she received uniformly good reviews. The weak link in the cast was Charles F.Lang, who played the dashing but faithless poet, Ange Pitou. As the November 30 Philadelphia Bulletin scathingly put it, “The simple fact is that he cannot sing and never could, and the sooner he realises this fact the better it will be for the stage—and the public.” Nevertheless: “[T]he general presentation of the opera was excellent. In short, it can in truth be said that the people have often paid $1.50 to hear opera not a whit better than that which Lilian Conway gave last night at half the price.” 182 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

La Fille de Madame Angot ran until December 11 and was then replaced by Franz von Suppé’s Fatinitza. Alice, however, was lured away from the Conway troupe to join the cast of Mizpah, a new American comic opera subtitled “a pungent Reflex from the Political, Social and Theatrical World.” Its libretto was a first attempt by a young journalist, Harry Dam, who was currently private secretary to the governor of California. Like many novices, he had overstuffed it with words and elaborate situations. The score came from the pen of Fred J.Eustis, a composer-arranger with an unfortunate history of flops behind him. His best effort to date had been a musical burlesque, Penny Ante, which lasted just two weeks in New York before disappearing into oblivion. Completing the trio responsible for the new work was Colonel Frank Burr, a Philadelphia man making his first investment in a theatrical production. Mizpah was largely a vehicle for satirical barbs about recent political events, especially those surrounding the 1884 presidential election in which the Democrat, Grover Cleveland, defeated the allegedly corrupt Republican, James G.Blaine. The story described the comic chaos caused when the inhabitants of an imaginary Greek island that had been presented to the United States on election day tried conforming to American ways. Within weeks, the members of the royal harem discover American-style litigation, the island’s religious leaders set themselves up as ward bosses, and the King’s daughter, the beautiful Mizpah, finds herself pursued by two American envoys appropriately named Jefferson and Adams. One set-piece scene depicted the introduction of champagne to the island; another featured a “Dynamiter’s Chorus,” the term “dynamiter” being a synonym for terrorist in the parlance of the day. The concept had great comic potential, but in the hands of an inexperienced librettist, a less-than-successful composer, and an amateur backer and manager, its execution left a lot to be desired. The work was premiered at Philadelphia’s Chestnut Street Theatre on the afternoon of December 21 to a capacity audience that included many of the city’s social and business elite. An excellent cast had been assembled for the occasion. The leading comedy role of the island’s King was played by George Frothingham, a prominent member of the Boston Ideal Opera Company. Louis J.Monoco took the part of Mizpah’s baritone suitor, Adams. George Travener, who had sung with Alice in Leicester and in her New York debut, played the tenor suitor, ALICE MAY 183

Jefferson. Alice was Katinka, chief lady of the harem, and Louise Montague starred as Mizpah. Unfortunately, the performance was underrehearsed, with little evidence of production, and neither Monoco nor Frothingham was in good voice, but the rest of the cast, particularly Montague, did very well. The audience clapped dutifully in the right places and half buried the performers in the customary first-performance shower of floral tributes. But the festive atmosphere could not hide the works failings. Mizpah was almost embarassingly bad. According to the Philadelphia Record of December 24, it had “too many moments of tedium…too many coarse or crude features, mostly relating to politics, which might be modified or cut out entirely without loss, and too much tonal monotony.” The Philadelphia matinee was a trial run for a planned season at Hooley’s Theatre, Chicago, but this change of venue failed to retrieve Mizpah’s fortunes. “It is called a comic opera but the phrase is a decided misfit; it is neither comic nor an opera” sniffed the Chicago Tribune of December 28. The libretto was dismissed as “intensely stupid” and the music as derivative to the point of plagiarism. Alarmed at the poor reviews and even poorer audiences, some of the performers deserted the show. The rest struggled on for a fortnight before acknowledging defeat when Burr withdrew his financial backing. He was subsequently described in the Philadelphia press as a sadder and wiser man following his brush with comic opera. Dam, too, learned from his mistakes. He later moved to Britain, where he found fame as the author of an enormously successful musical farce called The Shop Girl. The luckless members of the Mizpah cast were left contemplating their unpaid salaries and looking for work elsewhere. After several weeks of unemployment, Alice was engaged by an ambitious young manager, George O.Starr, for his company at the Criterion Theatre in Brooklyn. If she had any misgivings about returning to the scene of her unfortunate experience with Grau the previous year, they were soon allayed. The Starr Comic Opera Company was not top-class, but nor was it a fly-by-night ensemble. Starr proudly claimed that he had been touring for over four years and had never missed a scheduled date. He ran an unpretentious but well-organized troupe that performed at cheap prices and usually confined its activities to the smaller centers on the entertainment circuit. Since taking up residence at the Criterion 184 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

on March 7, 1887, the troupe had enjoyed a surprising run of success. Some of this could be attributed to novelty. The company had not visited Brooklyn before and local theatregoers relished the chance to see new faces. Starr was also adept at tailoring his repertoire to his audience. He had so far presented La Mascotte, The Chimes of Normandy (the usual English title for the perennially popular Les Cloches de Corneville), Olivette, and Billee Taylor. The latter had been a notable moneymaker thanks to Starr’s acumen in recruiting a troop of local little boys as extras and introducing a well-known circus performer, the wire walker and human cannon ball Zazel, in the role of Eliza Dabsey. Starr’s trump card was his youthful comedian, Frank Deshon. Quick, clever, and a useful singer, he rapidly gained a following. Other major attractions were the company’s large complement of pretty chorus girls and its handsome conductor, Carlo Torriani, who soon became a favorite with female patrons. The troupe as a whole was stronger on comedy than vocal skill and played all its repertoire in burlesque style. Starr had planned to stay at the Criterion for a month, but business was so brisk that he extended the season. Alice joined the company at the beginning of its fifth week. Her first role was Buttercup in H.M.S. Pinafore on April 4, 1887, and she was an instant success. With Deshon matching her in popularity as Sir Joseph Porter, the work drew the biggest crowds of the season. After satisfactory presentations of Giroflé-Girofla and La Princesse de Trébizonde in succeeding weeks, Starr introduced The Mikado to the repertoire on April 25. It, too, proved a hit with the public. Deshon was in his element as Ko-Ko and Charles Osborne sang the name part in fine style. The Clipper’s correspondent on April 30 declared Alice’s Katisha “the best rendering of the role seen in Brooklyn this season” and described the whole performance as “excellent.” Alice had persuaded Starr to give her husband an opportunity with the company, and Raymond arrived in time to play Pooh-Bah in The Mikado. The following week, as the rest of the troupe embarked on the first Brooklyn performances of Serment d’amour, Raymond came down with blood poisoning and was confined to bed. Alice took time off to nurse him. Deshon was also sick. The absence of the company’s two best comic performers weakened Serment d’amour considerably and resulted in disappointing houses. When they returned to play Lady Jane and Bunthorne in Patience on ALICE MAY 185

May 9, audience numbers immediately improved and Starr was left in no doubt as to the drawing power of his two most popular artists. No untoward incidents marred the rest of the season, which ended on May 28. Theatrical commentators were surprised at how successful it had been. The Criterion had the reputation of being a jinxed theatre; few companies did well there. For one as unheralded as Starr’s to survive eleven weeks and achieve satisfactory financial results was astonishing. On the strength of the good impression he and his troupe had made in Brooklyn, Starr secured a summer season engagement in Philadelphia. Alice, however, preferred to spend her summer in the familiar surroundings of Uhrig’s Cave. She set off for St. Louis without her husband, who was yet again said to be looking for employment. Significant changes had taken place at Uhrig’s Cave since Alice’s last visit. Pat Short still held the entertainment lease and exercised overall control, but Ford was no longer involved. He rightly thought that it would be hard to make a profit now that the Cave had lost its monopoly of summer opera in the city. A new manager, Harry Williams—apparently undeterred by the prospect of competition from Schnaider’s Garden—had assembled the troupe for the 1887 season. He called it the Bijou Opera Company, but this attempt to imply an association with New York’s Bijou Theatre did not fool anyone and Williams was heavily criticized for his pretension. Further difficulties were created by a new law prohibiting the opening of licensed premises on Sundays. This came into force on June 26, 1887 and affected both pleasure gardens. The summer season at Uhrig’s Cave began on June 7 with The Queens Lace Handkerchief. As so often, the weather on opening night was too raw and chilly for outdoor opera and those who flocked to see the show were forced to keep their coats on throughout. Attendance nevertheless held up well during the first week, perhaps because all the proceeds from performances were being given to local charities. Behind the scenes, however, problems were emerging. Apart from Alice and the young leading soprano, the Australian-trained Eva Davenport, the principals hired by Williams lacked charisma. The company urgently needed strengthening if it was to make an impact, and George W.Denham, William Wolff, Joe Armand, and Louise Searle were hastily engaged. Denham’s return as leading comedian was heartily welcomed. St. Louisans had fond memories of his appearances with 186 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

Ford’s Comic Opera Company during the 1885 summer season. Armand had proved his worth on tour with that company the same year and Wolff was a fine acquisition. Substituting Searle for Davenport was less understandable. Most commentators thought Davenport had done good work and no one was surprised when she filed a suit against Williams for loss of earnings. The augmented company soon began to show its mettle. H.M.S. Pinafore was a great success. Audiences warmed to Denham’s Sir Joseph and Alice’s buxom Buttercup. They had always combined well in the past and it did not take them long to rediscover their old rapport. Searle made a charming Josephine, Armand showed off his ringing tenor to good effect as Ralph Rackstraw, and George Shackford, one of two talented brothers in the troupe, won an encore every evening for his rousing rendition of “For He Is an Englishman.” The ubiquitous Mikado was even better realized. Denham, as Ko-Ko, hit the mark with his top ical quips. Searle was a delectable Yum-Yum, and Wolff a comically dignified Pooh- Bah; Armand received plaudits for his attractive portrayal of Nanki- Poo. Alice was still “the best of all the Katishas” in the opinion of the Dramatic Mirror’s St. Louis correspondent on July 16 and the work, overall, was presented by “a cast that has never been excelled here.” Stronger performers did not solve all the company’s problems, though. The chilly weather persisted, discouraging prospective patrons. As if competition from Schnaider’s Garden was not enough, a third pleasure garden with a resident comic opera troupe, the Paragon Elevated Garden, opened on July 12, featuring as leading lady Eva Davenport, who had been let go at Uhrig’s. Those who felt she had been unfairly treated promptly transferred their loyalty to the new venue. Worst of all, Williams turned out to be a liability as a manager. He had no advertising or promotional skills and had failed to secure enough backing to finance the company until it moved into profit. Matters came to a head in mid- July, when he was forced to ask Short for a loan to pay the performers’ wages. Short decided that the only way of improving the financial situation was to get rid of Williams and take temporary charge of the company himself. He charitably granted Williams a benefit. This ended in farce when two police constables entered the box office and commandeered most of the take to satisfy creditors. For the rest of the summer, Short and the manager he subsequently appointed, William Calder, labored to make good the losses suffered during the first half of the season. ALICE MAY 187

They began the retrenchment process with Robert Macaire, a pirated version of Erminie, a record-breaking comic opera with music by Edward Jakobowski that was currently running at the Casino in New York. The St. Louis version of the work used the title and character names from the original play on which the librettists Harry Paulton and Claxson Bellamy had based their book. The gentleman thief, Ravannes, accordingly became Robert Macaire; his dim and down-at-heel sidekick, Cadeau, reverted to the name of Jacques Strop; and the heroine, Erminie, became Rosamond. These three roles were played by Charles Shackford, George W.Denham, and Louise Searle, to the satisfaction of audiences and critics alike. Alice was assigned the plum part of the Princesse de Gramponeur or, as she was known in the pirated version, Princess Pompadour. It was her last new major role and she was predictably excellent as the elderly widow who falls for Strop’s bogus charm and cheap parlor tricks and convinces herself that he resembles her late husband. The critic of the Dramatic Mirror observed on July 23 that her expertise was only to be expected, since “she never falls to mediocrity in anything.” Her performance also caused a sensation for nonmusical reasons. To emphasize the Princess’s age, Alice was dressed in an old-fashioned hooped skirt. This turned out to be almost uncontrollable whenever it came into contact with any solid object. One night, as she made her entrance through a door in the set, it flew up in the air, revealing her undergarments to the fascinated gaze of patrons in the first few rows. The resulting gasps of mingled mirth and embarrassment brought down the house. Robert Macaire was successful enough to be retained for a second week. This coincided with better weather and the welcome news that St. Louis’s Sunday theatre closing law had been thrown out by the courts; theatres and pleasure gardens could again stay open seven days a week. The reprieve came too late for the troupe at Schnaider’s Garden, which was in severe financial difficulties, but it greatly helped Short and his forces. By dint of hard work and higher standards, the Uhrig’s Cave company had weathered a difficult season in better shape than its rivals. The only cloud on the horizon was the uncertain health of its principal comedienne. Alice could manage only a small role in the St. Louis premiere, on August 2, of Victor the Bluestocking, an English-American version of he 1883 Parisian success François les bas-bleus. When the company began to wind down the summer season with revivals of 188 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

popular favorites, Alice was frequently unable to appear. The costs of relying on drink to steady her nerves and dull the pain of disappointment were becoming apparent. During the penultimate week of performances, Alice was confined to bed in her lodgings at 2608 Locust Street, where her landlady, Mrs. Steifle, nursed her devotedly. Although Alice was acknowledged to be dangerously ill, her friends and colleagues still expected her to recover. Then, on the evening of August 15, she took a sudden turn for the worse. She became delirious and violent, and those attending her felt she would be better off in a hospital. There was no dignity in her final few hours. Two hospitals refused to admit her because they lacked beds. After much delay a place was found at the City Hospital. By this time, Alice was suf- fering intensely. Paroxysms of delirium racked her through the night, and she died at 7 A.M. the following morning, August 16, 1887. Newspapers reported that she had succumbed to “congestion of the brain.” The doctor who attended her at the end was blunter. Next to “cause of death” on her death certificate he wrote, unequivocally, “alcoholism.” The news of Alice’s death came as a tremendous shock to those who knew her. As the St. Louis Post Dispatch noted

She was not only a favorite with the public but with her associates, and met everyone with a pleasant word and a smile, while her hearty laughter could be heard waking the echoes of the garden wherever a group of singers were together. She had a word of encouragement for all who did good work, and so when it was known that she was dead there was not a dry eye in the company.

Telegrams were sent to notify Raymond of his wife’s death. He did not bother to reply, nor did he come to St.Louis. A Spectator columnist remarked bitterly that he was probably “doing little or nothing except trying to keep up with the procession of good fellows.” In default of Raymond, it was left to the managers, Short and Calder, to make the funeral arrangements. Alice’s body was taken back to Mrs. Steifle’s boardinghouse. Early on the afternoon of August 17 her friends and colleagues gathered in the parlor at 2608 Locust Street for a short service conducted by a Methodist minister, the Rev. Dr.Lewis. The room was filled with floral tributes. Blanche Chapman, currently working with a company in Philadelphia, had sent a pillow of ALICE MAY 189

flowers with Alice’s name spelled out in forget-me-nots. Denham’s contribution was a wreath in the form of an anchor, Searle’s one in the shape of a cross. Posies large and small from other members of the company were banked up around the coffin. The funeral procession left at 2 P.M. for Bellefontaine Cemetery, where more prayers were said. Then the company members sang “Forsaken” as Alice’s coffin was lowered into the grave. There was no performance on the day of the funeral. The next day Robert Macaire, the revival scheduled to end the season, went ahead, much weakened by the loss of Alice as the Princess. There was no one quite like her in the role, declared a writer in the Spectator on August 20, “no one to approach the full richness of her humor, no one to say ‘how nice’ as she did and no one to fit that wonderful dress she wore.” The company was due to leave St. Louis to begin its winter tour on August 23, but the performers willingly agreed when Short asked them to stay on and take part in a benefit matinee of Robert Macaire the following day, to raise money for a headstone over Alice’s grave. Calder and Charles Shackford, who were managing the tour, objected. They insisted that the company must set off as planned. Most of the artists, fearful of forfeiting their engagements, reneged on their promise and did as they were told. Denham, Wolff, Searle, and bit-part player Annie Farrell, who had been Alice’s understudy throughout the season, refused to leave. With their assistance, Short assembled a company from the talent still in town. The Mikado was substituted for Robert Macaire and the benefit performance duly went ahead on August 24, raising $225. Alice had been buried in public lot 22 of Bellefontaine Cemetery, which fronted on Calvary Avenue. With the proceeds of the benefit performance Short purchased a handsome headstone and had it erected over Alice’s grave. Most of the monuments that once graced this part of the cemetery have disappeared, but Alice ‘s remains, although so badly weathered now that the words inscribed on it have become largely indecipherable. Many tributes were paid to Alice in the wake of her death. In St. Louis, commentators remembered how she had captivated audiences from the moment of her first appearance in Blue Beard, or the Hazard of the Dye and how she had always given of her best, even in small roles. The American theatrical press recalled her successes, particularly in broad comedy roles such as Katisha in The Mikado and Lady Jane in Patience. Mary Fiske, in the August 20 Dramatic Mirror remembered McCaull’s saying that he had 190 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

Alice’s headstone (left), now standing in almost solitary splendor in public lot 22, Bellefontaine Cemetery, St.Louis, Missouri. Courtesy Kurt Gänzl.

never seen a better Artemisia in The Merry War. An anonymous columnist in the Spectator of the same date saw in Alice’s career a warning to others. She had scaled the heights of stardom and “made enough money to keep her in comfort the rest of her life,” but she had failed to capitalize on her talents and become, in the end, “only one among a thousand theatrical persons who have had brilliant successes, but have let their money slip through their hands and their opportunities glide by unheeded.” Details of Alice’s death gradually reached other places where she had lived and toured. The last country to hear the news was faraway New Zealand. More than a decade had passed since she won the hearts of operagoers there, but her youthful accomplishments were not forgotten. The comments of a Christchurch music critic, reported in the Canterbury Times of November 4, 1887, typified the reaction of her antipodean admirers: “A more conscientious, hard-working artiste never trod the stage; her singing was graceful, easy, and refined in style, and her voice melodious, sympathetic, and of better quality than that of many prima donnas who have visited us…. Her acting was vivacity itself.” It was in New Zealand, where Alice had made such an impact during the 1874 tour by Allen’s Royal English Opera Company, that her name was longest remembered. As late as 1932 a ALICE MAY 191

Wellington newspaper recalled how the city had honored her with a torchlight procession. Elsewhere the passing years were not as kind to Alice. Details of her career faded from view more quickly than the inscription on her tombstone. New stars and new musical styles emerged. In Australia and Britain another artist calling herself Alice May had a brief vogue at the end of the nineteenth century; in America a younger “Alice May” was active in musical theatre and straight drama in the early years of the twentieth century. The exploits of these later namesakes tended to confuse and obscure memories of the original Alice’s achievements. Many of the places associated with Alice vanished. Uhrig’s Cave fell victim to the growing temperance movement and staged its last opera in 1901. The Eutaw House, where she spent her brief honeymoon, was destroyed by fire in 1912 and in 1922 the same fate befell Margate’s Hall-by-the-Sea, where she had made her professional debut. The Royal Opera House, Leicester, which she helped inaugurate, was demolished in 1961, and the wrecking ball went through Ford’s Grand Opera House in Baltimore, the scene of her marriage to Louis Raymond, in 1964. Earliest of all to disappear was the Opera Comique in central London, where she created the role of Aline in Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Sorcerer. It closed in 1899 and the whole area around it was razed to make way for redevelopment. Changing fashions overtook most of the works in which Alice starred during her career. Barbe-bleue and Blue Beard, the Hazard of the Dye; La Petite Mademoiselle, Les Mousquetaires au couvent, Le Petit Duc, Sage and Onions, Geneviève de Brabant, La Princesse de Trébizonde, La Fille de Madame Angot, and Satanella —even apart from in France La Grande-Duchesse de Gérolstein, which had perhaps showcased her talents better than anything else —these, and many others drifted out of the repertoire. Gilbert and Sullivan’s comic operas survived and flourished throughout the English-speaking world, but The Sorcerer, the work that was the prototype for all the others, suffered the fate of so many prototypes. It was eclipsed by the greater popularity and defter touch of H.M.S.Pinafore and its successors and gradually fell out of fashion, eventually becoming one of the least-performed of all the Gilbert and Sullivan comic operas. Even in her own day, Alice was only briefly a star. Her career nonetheless had a range and extent that seems formidable by present-day standards. To have played so many roles and taken part in so many pioneering musical-theatre productions across four 192 ADRIENNE SIMPSON

different continents while coping with touring conditions that modern artists would refuse to tolerate evokes astonishment and admiration. Yet her lot was not atypical of that endured by many nineteenth-century performers. What made Alice special, when compared to some of the other trouping prima donnas of her day, was not so much her achievements as the impression she left on those who knew and worked with her. They mourned her not for her theatrical successes or failures but for what she was as a human being. She was a softhearted woman who loved unwisely and allowed her personal mistakes to affect her health and career; she spent her money as it came, without thought for the future, and spent her vocal resources with the same prodigality. Yet her fellow professionals loved her. She was, wrote a commentator in the Missouri Republican, “a woman of many noble traits which really endeared [her] to her associates. Open-handed to a fault, she had no grain of jealousy in her disposition; no petty envy of a rival’s success ever darkened her pleasure at the good fortune of another.” Her epitaph in New York’s leading the- ater journal, the New York Dramatic Mirror, summed up the feelings of her peers with eloquent simplicity: “Alice May was a true artist. She was a splendid singer, a very beautiful woman once, and as true and loving a creature as ever lived. God rest her soul.” Notes

Page numbers on left in bold show location of note in the text.

Chapter 1: The Mysterious Miss May

p. 3: “performed for 40 consecutive nights in London…,”Argus (8 June, 1870): 5. p. 8: Allen interview, Table Talk (18 November, 1887): 1. Longfellow’s letter to Allen is in the Public Record Office of Northern Ireland, callmark 12580/1/8. p. 8: “a Belfast professor,” Era (22 March, 1863): 4. p. 13: Review of Alice’s Margate debut, Kent Coast Times and Ramsgate and Margate Observer (19 August, 1869): 3. p. 13: “… making acquaintance with Australian audiences.” Era (15 August, 1869): 10.

Chapter 2: Green Girl in a Golden Land

p. 24: “…commonplace incidents of the night’s performance.” Argus (2 May, 1871): 5. p. 25: “…wonderfully artistic and expressive,” Ballarat Courier (11 August, 1871): 2. p. 26: “…cheerfulness and brightness,”Australasian Sketcher (15 May, 1875): 23. p. 29: Melbourne opinions of Barbe-bleue from Australasian (27 April, 1872): 530 and Argus (24 April, 1872): 5. 194 NOTES

Chapter 3: New Directions, New Roles

p. 39: Neild’s comments on Alice’s progress, Australasian (5 July, 1873): 19 and (26July,1873): 114.

Chapter 4: Toast of the Antipodes

p. 49: Description of torch light procession, Evening Post (19 October, 1874): 2. p. 50: Alice’s singing, South Australian Register (13 April, 1874): 5.

Chapter 5: Indian Adventure

p. 54: “…hold her own against any English prima donna.” Australasian (1 November, 1873): 563. p. 61: Unhealthiness of Calcutta, David Kennedy, Singing Round the World (Paisley: Alexander Gardner, 1887), 336. p. 62: Calcutta press opinions of Alice, Indian Daily News (quoted in the Australasian 27 November, 1874:692) and the Englishman (10 January, 1876): 3. p. 63: “…also detracted from its success.” Englishman (30 December, 1875): 5.

Chapter 6: Crowned with Success

p. 74: Reviews of Alice’s Liverpool debut from Liverpool Mercury (12 December, 1876): 5, Era (17 December, 1876): 8, and Liverpool Daily Echo (13 December, 1876): 5. p. 75: “an important addition to our vocalists.” Era (14 January, 1877): 12 p. 77: Figaro’s comment on Belfast poem reported in the Canterbury Times (19 May, 1877): 17. p. 78: Review of South company in La belle Hélène, Scotsman (14 June, 1877): 4. p. 81: Review of Faust Leicester, Leicester Daily Mercury (11 September, 1877): 4.

Chapter 7: Working for D’Oyly Carte

p. 90–91: Impressions of The Sorcerer premiere, Times (19 November, 1877): 6, Herman Klein, Music and Mummers (London: Cassell & Co. NOTES 195

Ltd, 1925): 196, and West London Express (24 November, 1877): 3, respectively. p. 93: Alice’s progress as Aline, Era (9 December, 1877): 12. p. 96: Comments on Alice’s performance of the title role of Geneviève de Brabant, Era (27January, 1878): 12.

Chapter 8: Ally Pally to the Alhambra p. 103: Theatrical salaries quoted in Michael R.Booth, “Theatrical Business in the 1880s,” Theatre Notebook XLI/2 (1987): 52. p. 109: Opinions of La Petite Mademoiselle, Illustrated London News (11 October, 1879): 342 and the Times (7 October, 1879): 4. p. 112: Opinions on Alice in Dick Whittington from the Era (28 December, 1879): 9 and Manchester Evening News (22 December, 1879): 4, respectively. p. 114: Comments on Alice as Simone, Observer (31 October, 1880): 5 and Era (7 November, 1880): 6. p. 115: 1881 census. The modern transcription of this document has her first name as Louise rather than Alice. This appears to be a mis-reading caused by the difficulty of deciphering the original handwriting. The name Louise is, in any case, uncommon in Britain until after 1860. A search for a possible “Louise” or “Louisa” May has yielded no results. p. 117: Allen’s court case was reported in the following issues of the Era: 17 August, 1879:3; 7 September, 1879:3; 28 September, 1879:5; 19 October, 1879: 4; and 5 March 1881:7. p. 120: Comments on The Bronze Horse from Theatre (August, 1881): 106–108.

Chapter 9: Prima Donna in the Provinces p. 124: Comments on Alice in Aladdin, Liverpool Echo (24 December, 1881): 4 and Era (18 February, 1882): 10, respectively. p. 129: Praise for Alice in Geneviève de Brabant from Nottingham and Midland Counties Daily Express (28 June, 1882): 4 and Manchester Guardian (3 May, 1882): 4. p. 130: Criticisms of The Wicklow Rose from the Manchester Guardian (4 May, 1882): 4. p. 133: Dr Myrtle’s speech reported in the Era (22 July, 1882): 10.

Chapter 10: Starting Afresh in America p. 138: “…by no means easy to please.” New York Dramatic Mirror (17 March, 1883): 3. 196 NOTES

p. 142: Comments on Satanella from reviews in the New York Daily Tribune (10 May, 1883): 5; New York Dramatic Mirror (19 May, 1883): 3; and New York Clipper (19 May, 1883): 140. p. 142: “…as plainly as others speak them.” New York Dramatic Mirror (26 May, 1883): 3. p. 143: Fiske’s comments on Alice’s drinking, New York Dramatic Mirror (20 August, 1887): 3. p. 149: Reviews of Alice in Bluebeard from New York Dramatic Mirror (28 July, 1883): 10 and 4 and the St Louis Spectator (28 July, 1883): 948 and 941, respectively.

Chapter 11: Playing the Casino

p. 163: Campaign against smoking, Spectator (5 July, 1884): 768. p. 164: Comments on Alice in Nell Gwynne, New York Dramatic Mirror (12 July, 1884): 4 and Spectator (12 July, 1884): 786.

Chapter 12: A Perfect Katisha’

p. 174: Unruly Giroflé-Girofla performance described in the Spectator (18 July,1885): 741.

Chapter 13: Downward Spiral

p. 184: Comments on Patience from New York Clipper (1 May, 1886): 106; on Pirates from New York Dramatic Mirror (8 May, 1886): 2. p. 195: Quotations regarding Alice’s death, St Louis Post Dispatch (17 August, 1887): 2 and Spectator (20 August, 1887): 928. p. 198: Closing epitaphs from Missouri Republican (17 August, 1887): 5 and New York Dramatic Mirror (20 August, 1887): 3, respectively. Index

Illustrations are indicated by page numbers set in italic.

Adelaide 25, 48–50, 51, 56 Arch Street Opera House Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp (Philadelphia) 146, 171, 173, 181 118–119 Armand, Joe 185 Albaugh’s Grand Opera House Aronson, Rudolph 151, 157 (Washington, D.C.) 177–180 Auber, Daniel 95, 116, 117, Alexandra Palace (London) 100–102 see also The Bronze Horse, Fra Alhambra Theatre (London) 94, 99, Diavolo 102, 103, 106, 111, 113, 115, 116, Auckland 40, 43 117, 118, 121, 132, 153, 171 Allahabad 63–64 Ballarat 23–25 Allen, G.B. as manager 33–34, 41–43, Baltimore 137, 138, 145–146, 149, 48, 62 150, 158–159, 161, 169–170 character and personality 6, 8, Barbe-bleue 29, 30, 34, 43, 44, 49, 14–15, 38, 50, 72–74, 84, 115 191 compositions 1–2, 6, 10, 35, 42, Barrington, Rutland 85, 89 64, Barton, James 134, 136, 177 see also The Belle of Baylis, John 119 Woolloomooloo, Castle Grim, The Beaumont, Armes 21, 23, 27, 28, 29, Wicklow Rose 34, 35, 49, 68 early years 6–10 Bedford,W.G. 69, 70, 93 musical abilities 6, 25–26, 49, 76 Beecher, Rosalba 153, 154, 157, 159, relationship with Alice 10–10, 15– 161 16, 46, 51–52, 72–74, 76, 111–113, Beggar Student, The 147–148, 149 133–134 Belfast 6, 8, 74 shareholder in Comedy Opera Belle Hélène, La 67, 74–76, Company 84, 114–115 Belle of Woolloomooloo, The 34 Allen, Harry 164, 166, 167, 169 Benedict, Julius 8, Apajune 161 see also The Lily of Killarney

197 198 INDEX

Bentham, George 85, 86, 89 Casino,The (New York) 147, 151– Beverley, E.D. 68, 69, 70, 76 154, 155, 156, 157, 158, 159, 161, Bijou Theatre (Boston) 159, 174–175 186 Bijou Theatre (New York) 151, 177, Castle Grim 2, 8–10, 53–54, 59, 67, 185 74 Billee Taylor 183–184 Celli, Frank 110, 111, 154 Blackpool 120, 128 Cellier, Alfred 33, 108, Bluebeard, or the Hazard of the Dye see also The Sultan of Mocha 142–144, 145, 146, 147, 149, 189, Chambers, Emma 94, 96, 99, 105 191 Chapman, Blanche 155, 156–157, Bockel, Marie 141, 143, 148 163, 164, 180, 188 Bohemian Girl, The 23, 30, 43, 44, Chassaigne, Francis 154, 53, 163 see also Falka Bombay (Mumbai) 64 Chestnut Street Opera House Bornemann, Fred 135 (Philadelphia) 146, 147, 182 Boston 159, 163, 174 Chicago 155, 161, 163, 167, 183 Boston Ideal Opera Company 138, Christchurch 40, 42, 46, 48, 190 156, 182 Cincinnati 145, 161, 163 Bracy, Henry 110 Cinderella, or the Little Glass Slipper Braham, Carrie 128 36, 43, 62 Branson, Philip 141, 144, 148 Clay, Frederic 33, 67, 173, Bronze Horse, The 116–118 see also Princess Toto Brooklyn 161, 175, 183, 184 Cleveland 161, 163 Buffalo 149–150, 161, 163 Cloches de Corneville, Les 99, 145, burlesque 10, 136, 141–142 183 Burnand, F.C. 34, 142, 143, Collette, Charles 103, 106 see also Bluebeard, or the Hazard Comedy Opera Company, The 84, of the Dye 113–115, 121 Burr, Frank 182, 183 Connell, Edward 68, 69, 70, 76, 171, Burville, Alice 91, 94, 101 173 Bury, Felix 93, 102 Conway, Lilian 180, 181 Coppin, George 18 Cagli, Augusto 19, 30, 33, 40, 42, 56, copyright 142, 148–150, 156, 157, 57 166–167 Calcutta 56–62 Cottrelly, Mathilde 154, 155, 157 Calder, William 186, 188 Cox and Box 34, 85 Calhoun, Kirtland 173, 174 Criterion Theatre (Brooklyn) 175– Campbell, Charles 171, 173, 174, 176 176, 183–184 Carl Rosa Opera Company 68, 85, Crook, John 107, 109 121, 123 Carleton, William 147, 154 Dam, Harry 182, 183 Carmen 122–123 Daughter of the Regiment, The (La Carte, Richard D’Oyly 80–82, 82, 83, Fille du Regiment) 22, 23, 25, 37, 84, 85, 90, 91–92, 93, 95–96, 113, 43, 56, 61, 66 114, 115, 132, 149, 150, 163, 167, Davenport, Eva 185, 186 169, 170, 174, 176 INDEX 199

Denham, George W. 155, 163, 164, Freischütz, Der 5, 20, 23, 25, 28, 37, 165, 166, 167, 169, 170, 185, 186, 43, 44, 61, 83 188, 189 Frothingham, George 182 Deshon, Frank 184 Furst, William W. 141, 144, 146 Diard, Fatmah 167 Dick Whittington 106–107 Galer, Elliott 8, 67, 77, 78–79, 80 Dinorah 55 Gallery of Illustration (London) 12, Dolaro, Selina 67, 69, 81, 96 33, 68 Douglas (Isle of Man) 128–130 Geneviève de Brabant 35–36, 43, 44, Duff, James C. 169, 173, 175 59, 61, 91–93, 94, 99, 120, 121, 122, Dunedin 40, 41, 43, 44, 46 124, 191 Dungan, Charles 141 Gilbert, W.S. 33, 67, 81–83, 84–88, Dwyer, Michael 121 89, 90, 91, 108, 115, 116, 117, 132, 148–149, 173, 176, 191, Edinburgh 76, 77, 120, 130 see also H.M.S.Pinafore, Iolanthe, Eissig, Louise 141, 143, 145, 148 The Mikado, Patience, The Eldred, Joseph 128, 130, 133 Pirates of Penzance, Princess Ida, Eustis, Fred J. 182 Princess Toto, The Sorcerer, Evans, Tellula 171, 174 Trialby Jury Everard, Harriet 85, 89 Giroflé-Girofla 59, 61, 62, 92, 103, 130–131, 163, 166, 184 Falka 154, 155, 157, 159, 161, 162, Glasgow 77, 130 163 Goossens, Eugene 68, 69, 70, 76 Farley, Edward 21, 34, 35 Grande-Duchesse de Gérolstein, La Farnie, H.B. 25, 35, 120, 127, 145, 21, 23,25, 28, 30, 32, 43, 44, 54, 61, 154, 156 63–64, 67, 68, 70–71, 74, 76, 111, Faust 43, 46, 54, 61, 66, 79, 80 128, 128, 169, 191 Fifth Avenue Theatre (New York) Grau, Robert 176, 183 138, 150, 169, 176 Grossmith, George 87, 89 Fille de Madame Angot, La 59, 67, Grundy, Amy 68, 69, 70, 128 72, 92, 94, 101–102, 103, 105, 120, 121, 123, 128, 163, 164, 166, 180, Haas, Mabel 170 181, 191 Hallam, Henry 43, 46, 49, 53, 59, 61, Fiske, Mary (the ‘Giddy Gusher’) 10, 66 16, 137, 189 Hall-by-the-Sea (Margate) 10–13, Fleury, Achille 49, 61 190 Ford, Charles E. 137–138, 141, 143, Hamilton,William 135 144, 146, 147, 148, 149, 155, 156, Harrogate 120,128–128 157, 158–159, 163, 163–164, 165, Harvey, Pauline 170 166–167, 169, 170, 185 Hatch, Alonzo 164, 165, 166, 167, Ford, JohnT. 137, 138, 149, 150, 177 169 Ford’s Grand Opera House Hayes, Samuel 96–98, 99 (Baltimore) 137, 145, 158, 169–170 Head, Charles 91, 92, 93, 95–96 Fox, Della 146 Henderson, Alexander 110, 111 Fra Diavolo 25, 28, 30, 37, 43, 44, Hennings, John 26, 28, 29 163, 164, 174, 178 200 INDEX

H.M.S.Pinafore 96, 99, 113–114, 115, McArdle, John F. 107, 118, 119 121, 138, 147, 148–149, 184, 185, McCaull, John A. 138, 141, 146, 147, 191 149–150, 150–151, 152 153, 154, Hodson, Georgia 20, 28 155, 156, 157, 158, 159, 163, 171, Holland, Fanny 12 173, 174, 177, 181 Howe, Florence 34, 43, 59, 61 Madame l’archiduc 121, 123–124 Madras (Chennai) 64–66 India 54, 56–66, 103 Maflin, A.W. 161 Iolanthe 134, 141, 146 Mahn, Harry 171–175, 175 Manchester 74, 76, 120, 124 Jacobi, Georges 102, 105, 115 Margate 10, 12, 13 Jakobowski, Edward 186 Maritana 20, 23, 25, 30, 43, 44, 46, Jeanne, Jeannette et Jeanneton 115– 53, 64 116, 171 Martha 42, 43, 46, 163 Johnson, Maurice 128 Mascotte, La 183 Mathews, Charles 62, 63 Kitts, James 20–21 Mathews, Julia 52, 67, 68, 70, 74 Klein, Alfred 159, 161, 162 May, Alice as a performer 18–19,22– 23, 26, 28–29, 30, 29–38, 46, 48–49, Lacome, Paul 115, 116 54, 61, 65, 71, 72, 76, 79, 84–85, Lambert, Nellie 42 89–90, 95, 107–108, 116, 123–124, Lang, Charles F. 181 127, 130, 135–136, 144, 153, 155, Lascelles, Charles 21, 28, 35 156–157, 189, 190 Lecocq, Charles 103, character and personality 15, 25, see also La Fille de Madame 26, 55, 127, 136–137, 188, 190, Angot, Giroflé-Girofla, Le Petit 191 Duc, La Petite Mademoiselle concert debut 10–13 Leicester 77, 78, 79, 109 early years 2–6, 10–13 Leslie, Fanny 117 in The Mikado 168, 169, 171, 174, Leslie, Fred 105, 116, 153, 154 184, 186 Liddle, Maggie 53–54, 59, 61 in The Sorcerer 84–91 Liebhart, Louise 10, 10 Indian tour 56–66 Lily of Killarney, The 36, 43, 61, 80, London debut 71–72 135 marriage 158–159, 181 Little Tycoon, The 181 New York debut 134–136 Liverpool 67, 69–71, 74, 77, 111, 118, New Zealand tour 39–48 119, 120 relationship with G.B. Allen 10– London, 51–52, 66, 66, 80, 109, 111, 10, 15–16, 72–74, 100, 111–113, 118, 131, 131, 166, 190 121, 130, 133–134 Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth 8 stage debut 22–23 Loredan, Guillaume 92–93 tour with Soldene 120–128 Loseby, Constance 99, 103, 105, 116 May, Edward Collet 5 4 Louisville 145, 161, 163 Melbourne xiii, 1, 13–14, 16–18, 23, Lynton, Ethel 164, 167, 174 28, 29, 34–35,39, 40, 50, 52, 56, 57, Lyster, W.S. 13, 14–15, 19–22, 26–29, 66 29–30, 31, 34–35, 36, 38, 40, 43, 52, Merry War, The 141, 153–154, 155, 55, 177 169, 189 INDEX 201

Mikado, The 116, 163, 166–170, 171– Petit Duc, Le 93, 94–95, 96, 99, 99, 173, 174–175, 175–176, 181, 184, 103, 105, 155, 157, 158, 159, 161, 185–186, 189 163, 191 Mizpah 181–183 Petite Mademoiselle, La 103–106, Millöcker, Carl 147, 191 see also Apajune, The Beggar Philadelphia 146, 147, 154–155, 159, Student 171, 173, 174, 180, 181, 182, 183, Monoco, Louis J. 182 184, 188 Montague, Louise 182 Pirates of Penzance, The 138, 141, Moore, W.S. 180–181 150, 165, 176 Mousquetaires au couvent, Les 110– Pittsburgh 146, 161 111, 154, 191 Planquette, Robert 145, 156, Music Hall (Buffalo) 161–163 see also Les Cloches de Corneville, Nell Gwynne, Rip van Neild, James Edward 28, 29, 37–38 Winkle Nell Gwynne (The Orange Girl) 156– Potter, Cipriani 4–5 157, 161 Prince Methusalem 159–161, 163 New York 131, 132, 134, 136, 138, Prince of Wales Theatre (Liverpool) 147, 151, 153, 159, 163, 167, 168, 68, 70–71, 77, 118, 119 169, 173, 177, 181, 182, 186 Princess Ida 155 New Zealand 13, 38, 39–48, 52, 55, Princess Toto 67, 173–174 120, 190 Princesse de Trébizonde, La 59, 64, Nicholls, Blanche 168–169, 170 102–103, 130, 155, 184, 191 Nordblom, Henry 121, 126, 127 Princess’s Theatre (Melbourne) 21, Nottingham 74, 76, 120, 127, 128 22, 26 Pyne, Louisa 8, 10 Offenbach, Jacques 13, 14, 19, 88, 95, 110, 123, 144, Queens Lace Handkerchief, The 151, see also Barbe-bleue, La Belle 185 Hélène, Geneviève de Brabant, La Grande-Duchesse de Gérolstein, Rainford, T.H. 28, 29, 35, 42, 43, 59, Madame l’archiduc, Orphée aux 61, 65 enfers, La Princesse de Raymond, Louis W. 141, 145, 150, Trébizonde, The Rose of 154, 155, 157, 158–159, 163, 164, Auvergne, The Two Blind Beggars 165, 167, 168, 170, 171, 174, 175, Olivette 174, 183 176, 177, 180, 181, 184, 188, 190 Opera Comique Theatre (London) 72, Reece, Robert 8–10, 67, 103, 104, 80, 83, 87, 90, 99, 113, 190 105, 115, 124, 126, 127 Orphée aux enfers 28, 29, 30, 43 Reeves, Sims 98–99 Reynolds, Genevieve 141 pantomime 71, 106, 107, 118, 119 Ricci, Bertha 159, 161, 162 Patience 117, 176, 184, 189 Rip van Winkle 134, 141, 145–146, Paul, Howard 85, 115, 116, 117, 118, 149 132 Robert Macaire (Erminie) 186–187, Paul, Isabelle 85, 89, 115 188 Paulton, Harry 94–95, 99, 105, 110, 117, 186 202 INDEX

Rose of Auvergne, The (La rose de see also The Merry War, Prince Saint-Flour) 25, 34, 52, 53, 67, 98, Methusalem, The Queens Lace 99 Handkerchief Rose of Castille, The 25, 43 Sullivan, Arthur 5, 33, 81, 83, 84–88, Rosenfeld, Sydney 167, 177 89, 90, 91, 108, 115, 116, 117, 131, Rowe, Saville and Bolton 94, 96 132, 148–149, 174, 176, 191, Royal Opera House (Leicester) 77– see also Cox and Box, 79, 135, 190 H.M.S.Pinafore, Iolanthe, The Royal Philharmonic Theatre Mikado, Patience, The Pirates of (London) 91–92, 93, 96 Penzance, Princess Ida, The Russell, Lillian 132, 135 Sorcerer, Trial by Jury Sultan of Mocha, The 108–109, 111, Sage and Onions 109, 191 124 St. Louis 138, 144, 147, 155, 156, Sunderland 120, 130–131 157, 158, 161, 163, 163, 166, 167, Sydney 17, 29, 30–31, 33, 40, 55 168, 184, 187, 188, 189 St. Quinten, Lizzie 116, 171, 173, Temple, Richard 85, 89 174 Templeton, Charles 43, 59 Santley, Kate 67, 173 Templeton, John 175, 176 Satanella 23, 25, 30, 41, 43, 45, 53, Thalia Theatre (New York) 147, 148 59, 80, 134–136, 137, 191 Theatre Royal (Manchester) 69, 70, Schnaider’s Garden (St Louis) 165, 77, 106, 107, 109, 111, 124 185, 186, 187 Thompson, Lydia 67, 110, 132 Searle, Louise 185, 186, 188, 189 Tivoli Theatre (San Francisco) 135, Serment d’amour (The Golden Hen) 141 177, 180, 184 Travener, George 78, 135, 182 Seymour, William Howells 141, 143, Trial by Jury 81, 87 144, 145, 155, 176 Trovatore, Il 43, 44, 46, 48, 55–56, 80 Shackford, Charles 186, 188 Two Blind Beggars, The (Les Deux Short, Pat 140–141, 155, 165, 185, Aveugles) 67 186, 187, 188, 189 Soldene, Emily 29, 52, 67, 89, 99, 99, Uhrig’s Cave (St. Louis) 138–141, 120–128, 132, 171 142, 144, 155, 156, 163, 163, 164, Solomon, Edward 33, 165–166, 167, 168, 169, 170, 174, see also Billee Taylor 177, 180, 184–185, 187, 190 Sonnambula, La 20, 25, 43, 44, 49, 51, 61, 64 Vernon, Howard 34, 35, 36, 42, 46, Sorcerer, The 82–83, 84–91, 96, 113, 53, 59, 60, 61 131, 190, 191 Victor the Bluestocking (François les South, Richard W. 67–68, 71, 72, 76, bas-bleus) 187 77, 99, 171 Standard Theatre (New York) 134, Warwick, Giulia 85, 86, 89, 91 169 Washington, D.C. 146, 161, 170, 177, Starr, George 0. 183–184 180 Stewart, Richard 26, 28, 29 Waterman, The 98–99 122 Stimson, Fred J. 106, 108, 109 Wellington 41, 44, 46, 48, 190 Strauss, Johann 151, Whitbred,J.W. 128 INDEX 203

Wicklow Rose, The 111–113, 124– 127 Wilke, Hubert 159 Williams, Harry 185, 186 Williamson, J.C. 56, 62 Wilson, Francis 154, 159, 161, 163 Wingrove, Edward 94, 96 Winston, Jeannie 38, 52, 177, 178, 180 Wood, Mrs. (Mary Anne Paton) 5–6, 78 Woolf, William 185, 186, 189

Zelman, Alberto 33