The Sun.
London, England, 1864-03-25 00:00:00

ROYAL GENERAL THEATRICAL FUND.

-
The nineteenth anniversary of this institution Ina
celebrated last evening at the Freemasons' Hain, and
was attended by 150 of its friends and patrons,
amongst whom we noticed Mr. Robert Bell, Mr.
nlark Lemon, Mr. Flower, the Mayor of Stratford,
Mr. Buckstone, Mr. Webster, Mr. German Reed,
Mr. Chippendale, Mr. Sothern , Mr. Creswick, Mr.
Lorraine, Mr. Jerwood, Mr. Swanborough, Mr.
Waller, Mr. Frampton, Mr. Seale, Mr. F. Ledger,
Mr. R. Wood, &no &c.
Shirley Brooks, Rica, presided on the omission in
a manner that gave greatsatisfaction to the company.
The festival was graced by the presence of a large
number of ladies, who occupied raised seats in the
immediate vicinity of the cross table, and were thus
enabled to agreeably enjoy the general proceedings
of the evening.
The cloth having been drawn,
The CHAIRMAN rose and said—Ladies and Gen.
tlemere:—A most gracious message from the most
illustrieus personage in the realm claims precedence
of all things. I have the honour of announcing to
yon that her Majesty has been pleased to signify a
renewal of her annual gift of £lOO to the Royal
General Theatrical Fund. Even the Queen of Eng-
land cannot do impossibilities, and no generous
action on her part can deepen our affectionate regard
for our beloved Sovereign ; but the fund receives
her gift with gratitude, and we have heard of it
with gratification. I wish you to dedicate our first
glass to the first lady of the world, not only in right
of the flag on which the sun never sets, but in right
of personal goodness, which will be dear to British
subjects while that glorious flag is the symbol of
British empire. He then gave "The Health of the
Queen."
The toast was received with loud cheers. The
National Anthem was sung by the vocalists.
The CHAIRMAN said—The next toast, again to
quote " Hamlet," "importeth Denmark's health, and
England's too." Last year, in proposing a health, to
whichl venture to make a small addition, your Pre-
sident spolee felicitously of a marriage procession,
in which all England seemed to have taken its
place, and to have escorted a gallant bridegroom and
a gracious bride in triumph to the altar. Fortune
has thrown fresh perfume on the orange flowers,
and an international baby has arrived to make the
happy happier. He gave " The Prince and Princess
of Wales, the Prince Christian—his Danish name—
and the rest of the Royal Family." (Cheers.)
The CHAIRMAN, in proposing „The Army, Navy,
and Volunteers," said—l have sat at good men's
feasts, and I hope to sit—not stand—at many more.
I have always observed that in the acknowledg-
ment of the toast I am about to propose, its subjects
have displayed a manly reticence and modesty which
would have inspired me, for one, if I had had the
good fortune to be under such leaders, with the most
intense confidence in my commanding officers. I
have always heard of duty, never of glory. But it
the noble services to which we owe so much choose
to forget it, we choose to remember that " the
path of duty is the way to glory," and our army
and navy need no hand-posts on that road. A third
service, which I am also to have the honour of
naming, is " Oar Household Guard." The energy
and patience which our volunteers have displayed
in attaining to their present magnificent state of
discipline, have been extraordinary. The labour we
delight in physics pain, especially when it makes
us certain of physicing any other enemy who may
be so ill advised as to come to England for medi-
cine. (Cheers.)
The CHAIRMAN, in proposing the toast of the
evening, said—l: is on record that in:a certain trial
at law, the plaintiff, or shall we say the plaintive,
having heard the speech of his eloquent ad-
vocate—l know not whether he is here—
rushed from his place, and with tears streaming from
his eyes, exclaimed, " Bless you, sir—bless you ; I
never knew how ill-treated I had been until your
speech explained it to me." (Cheers.) This year,
I, ladies and gentlemen, unworthily occupy the
chair which was last year filial by the best chair-
man in England. Be kind enough to make a note
of the anecdote, as you will discover, by my speech,
how comparatively un'ortunate you are upon this
occasion. But I will say, with Denis Duval, I pay
you with my best, and what creature can do more.
(Hear.) I received my brief for to-night from your
eccentric solicitor—(l don't mean my old friend Mr.
J.ls.rwood, who is not eccentric at all)—a gentleman
who practises under various aliases, and notably
under the name of Buckstone—but I think he will
never be struck off the rolls of fame—and I had
pleasure in accepting it, because it was enough for
me that your directors could think that I might be
useful to a valuable institution. (Cheers.) Some
time afterwards, the same highly-respectable pro-
fessional gentleman in the most regular manner
gave me—my legal friends know what I mean—a
refresher. It was given at a club of which we are
both members, and with his usual foresight, Mr.
So icitor Buckstone administered it in the form of
certain fish, fowl, and champagne. I mention this
to increase, if possible, your admiration for him, for
he knew that I should be able to eat no dinner to-
day, as he politely said, for studying my im-
promptus. (Hear.) But, ladies and gentlemen, in
accepting that brief, I claimed the right to take my
own line of argument, I feel very strongly, and
have always felt very strongly, that the claims of
the drama and of its professors to the support and
sympathy of the nation ought never to be based upon
any plea which in the slightest degree partakes of
the character of apology, and which does not take
the very highest ground. (Cheers.) My own con-
victions, not merely of the exceeding great value,
bat of the absolute necessity of the drama, are based
upon a rock, and they remain unshaken by acci-
dents of fashion or folly, and above all unmoved by
the storms of either honest or dishonest bigotry.
(Cheers.) Regarding the Drama as an institution
which has gradually wed happily arisen out of the
best instincts of our nature, as a form of art in
which the strongest and the subtlest faculties may
be developed, in which the triple charms of three
glorious arts—poetry, painting, and sculpture—
must unite in alliance, and must then ask the aid of
" God's best gift of speech," to bring out all the
marvellous magic of the stage—l claim for " the
mighty actor's art," as it has been nobly called by
Thomas Campbell, a place and a recognition which
hall give it rank with the proudest. (Hear, and
cheers.) I have said that such convictions remain
unshaken by accidents of fashion or folly. Not the
most devoted admirer of the drama—and few are
more devoted than myself—bat is ready to admit
that mistakes are sometimes made on the stage. It
is doubly sad, ladies and gentlemen, because we all
know that mistakes are never made in what is called
real life. We know that no politician ever makes a
clap-trap speech. (Laughter.) We know that no
author ever writes an unworthy beok. We know
that no clergyman ever preaches a non-orthodox
sermon. Were it otherwise, of course, ladies and
gentlemen,
logic and duty would call upon us to
abolish politics, books, and pulpits. (Laughter.)
But in the midst of this world of perfection in which
we is world of wisdom, and virtue, and
honesty—we (the theatrical profession) may be for-
given a few mistakes, if es, only because they serve as a
foil to the unapproachable excellence of the rest of
mankind. We are not the rose, but let us live near
the ro6e. But ladies and gentlemen, I am not going
to make many admissions detrimental to the inte-
rest of my client. Having allowed that we are not ab-
selee perfection,' assert,without hesitation, that our
mistakes are few, and our •
merits tneny and great.
(Heap) Shall I call wanesseao
.) I see a shudder
go round among my legal friends at the idea of
anythiog so monstrous as calling
witnesses in the
middle of a speech; but we will create precedents,
and justify them afterwards, What has the theatre
done for mankind? I am not going to call the
oldest inhabitant, olr friend FhesPie—we have had
his carte de visite often enough. I will not invoke
the solemn and m jeafie images of the Grecian
dramatists. I pass by the Romans, who stole plays
as they stole everything else—and I don't care who
hears me, it is a very wrong thing to steal a plan
or even a pin,
unless you steal its point also. I will
not, in the neighbourhood of the awful Hall of
Mysteries, talk to you of the Mysteries and Mo-
ralitiLs of the middle :ages,—my old and middle-
a;.:ed friend, Mr. T,
>m T aylor, will mix them up
with the Olympic games. lam going to c e wit-

ness whom our adversaries may cross-examine until
the crack of doom, and every new question will
bring them a more damaging answer than the last.
I call William Shakspere, twice of Stratford-upon-
Avon, some time of London, now of all time.
(Loud and continued cheering.) I expected that.
The other aide—we will not say the avvocato dell
diavolo—throws up his brief. No wonder. But I
claim to put in documents. I put in the 34 plays.
That is what the theatre has given to mankind. For
had there been no theatre, no Drama, no wondrous
platform prepared through the ages until the
greatest magician of all ages should come to fill it
with his glorious creations, you would have had no
Shakspere. (Hear, hear.) Ido not say what you
might not have had, for that genius must have
broken forth in some way. Admiral Shakspere
might hat, e destroyed the Armada; Lord Chancel-
lor Shakspere might have written the " Novum
Organon ;" Sir Walter Shakspere might have
made Europe happy with tobacco, but you
would not have had that volume that
wonder of which no one could speak wor-
thily but himself—the volume which, humanly
speaking, is our treasury of wisdom, of consolation,
of art, of fumy, of poetry, which furnishes sarcasms
for the senate, war-cries for the soldier, vows to the
lover, themes for the moralist, inspirations for the
poet, images for the painter, divinity for the priest,
and songs for the child. (Loud cheers.) You owe
Shakspere to the theatre ; and in this year 1864,
the three hundredth from his birth, I scorn to call
another witness to the character of the Drama.
(Continued cheering.) But I have spoken of honest
and dishonest bigotry. There are many who ad-
mire, or profess to admire the poet, but who will
not go to the play. To advise them, let us quote
the words of a clergyman of the Church of England,
one of the wisest men whom she ever sent forth to
teach common sense as well as common prayer. The
words, and they are noble, should be your only
answer when nonsense is talked, and when the ac-
cidents and errors of which I have spoken are re-
garded by bigots as necessaries to a system :—" The
finest exhibition of talent, the most beautiful moral
lessons interdicted, because given at a theatre!
Why ? Where is every feeling more roused in
favour of virtue than at a good play ? Where is
goodness so feelingly, so enthusiastically learned?
What so solemn as to see the excellent passions of
the human heart called out by a great actor, ani-
mated by a great author ? To behold the child and
its mother, the noble and the poor artisan, the
monarch and the subjects, all ages and all ranks,
convulsed with one common passion, or wrung
with one common anguish, and doing involuntary
homage to the God that made their hearts."
(Cheers.) This is my case, my lord. I have
given you, however inadequately, some idea of
the character of the convictions in my mind in
regard to the high claim of the theatre upon all our
sympathies and respect. I will not do you the wrong
to delay you from the musical and oratorical'plea-
sures that await you by any argument by way of
supplying links between the Drama and the claims
of those who live by it, and make our lives glad by
their own. To do so would be almost to insult your
understandings, which have long since caught up
my foregone conclusion. I stand before you as the
advocate of an institution for helping those per-
formers who can no longer follow their profession.
(Hear, heir, and cheers.) This aid is not extended
in any arbitrary or uncertain way ; it depends upon
no influence or favouritism ; bat it has been honour-
ably earned by those who receive it, for they must
have contributed to the fund. (Hear.) It is paid in
the form of an annuity, end is carefully appor-
tioned according to certain fixed calculations.
Age, sickness, or other infirmity is the actor's title
to relief, and no distinction of rank or grade is made.
Macbeth is as Fleance, Lord Ogleby as Brush, Juliet
as her Nurse, in the presence of that which levels ail.
And all theatres are alike to the fund, and it is not
necessary to have taken a degree at Oxford Garden
or Cambridge Lane. (Cheers.) Let me add that
in the saddest hour of all, when the part in this
world's play is played out, the fund extends its aid
to the mourners. (Hear.) I have mentioned these
details lest any of our friecdsshould be unacquainted
with them; but I believe that most of you are aware
how sound is the system of the fund, and how faith-
fully it is served by its admirable officers. (Cheers.)
Now, I request any of my friends who belong to the
theatrical profession to imitate " the deaf adder,
which stoppeth her wire," but not to carry the imi-
tation to the point of hissing. That profession is
well represented here. I want to say tomething in
its praise, and it is not so well to praise people to
their facts. We will consider that the actors are in-
visible. We have often been asked to do so to oblige
them, when we could see them perfectly well, and
how they must oblige us. Ladies and gentlemen, in
the deafness of our professional friends, will you
allow one who has had an intimate acquaintance, of
many years, with members of every portion of the
theatrical world, to say that liknow of no class in
society who so well deserve that their brave efforts
at self-help should be seconded by you. (Hear, hear,
and cheers.) 1 speak of what is within my own
knowledge when I say that the noble teaching of the
Drama is not lost upon those who deliver it or aid in
illustrating it. Those who are rich are generous and
open-handed, and those who have yet to become rich
(I wish they all could, and live in the Golden Home
of One Thousand Diemonds for the rest of their lives)
—those who have yet to become rich help one another
with a frankness and a kindness which I have never
seen equalled. (Loud cheers.) Then, let the book of
this fund be an answer to the ignorance that retains
the tradition of an actor's improvidence. That tra-
dition has lived among foolish people just as the
Grub-street notion about authors is not quite gone
out, though we go to church and pay our taxes with
reasonable alacrity. A portion of the hard-earned
salary goes to the fund, and it is most honourable
to those who have so many calls on their purses that
it is so. Therefore, though I once more disclaim any
idea of a charity sermon—though I would proscribe
the word patron and banish the word benefactor—
I appeal to you to recognise the claims of a noble
art by assisting those who pursue it so worthily.
(Cheers.) Help the fund that helps the artist in the
hoar of need. (Continued cheering.) A very reso-
lute gentleman—whose name is Cullenford—will
presently attend upon yon for the purpose of tak-
ing from you both your money and your good
names ; but you will not be made to feel poorer by
the surrender of either. If you do, come here this
day twelvemonth, and I hereby pledge my suc-
cessor to make you the most ample atonement.
That is an appointment. Then, if my professional
friends will once more permit me to resume the
loan of their ears, I will speak about another length,
and then deliver you all to Mr. Cullenford, who,
hushed in grim repose, expects—that every man
will do his duty. (Laughter and cheers.) My dear
friends in the profession, I speak to you as an
author, or rather as a journalist. Around me here
are many, and there are others not here who are
interested in our doings, to whom I should like to
say a word. Among those to whom and of whom
I speak are true and noble artists who adorn our
own stage, and of whom the English stage might
at any time have been proud. lam proud that I
have been asked to plead to-night in behalf of a pro-
fession which does itself and the country so much
honour. (Loud cheers.) The Chairman concluded
by proposing "Prosperity to the Royal General
Theatrical Fund," coupling with the toast the name
of Mr. Buckstone, the treasurer of the fund.
Mr. BUCKSTONE then rose, and was received with
loud cheers. He said—Gentlemen, it is with great
pleasure that in looking towards the chair this even-
ing I can see it filled by so popular and talented a
gentleman as Mr. Shirley Brooks, because, while
acknowledging his ability for the position, we must
not forget his kindness in coming here on this occa-
sion, for you little know the difficulty of procuring
newa chairman for each of these anniversary fes-
tivals ; indeed, this year we found ourselves much
embarrassed, as we begun to discover that we had
nearly " used up" all the remarkable men of the
time, at least those whose natural kindness will not
permit them to refuse the solicitation to do good.
During the last eighteen annual dinners we have
discussed here and elsewhere for the benefit of our
fund, we have been honoured by the presidency of
noblemen, statesmen, novelists, dramatists, and
actors; you may, therefore, suppose it to be no
easy mane* to pick out from lime to time, and from
Mr.nMilt the celebrities of the day. a chairman that

can be acceptable to you and of service to us.
(Cheers.) Many names were recently suggested,
while to some I took the trouble to write the most
charming and persuasive letters you can conceive ;'I
but that surly monosyllable "No," was all the reply
we could get. Easter was fast approaching; there
was the chair, but where was the man to fill it ? In
this extremity I applied to my friend Mr. Shirley
Brooks, who, after expressing some proper and
pretty doubts as to his capability for the office, con-
cluded his answer by saying, "If you can get no
one better, I'm your man ; " so, taking the title of
his own novel, he at once came to our aid, and cut
" The Gordian Knot "—(a laugh)—and although
the last of the long list of eminent men who have
attended here on these occasions, he is most cer-
tainly far from the least, for not only is he an ad-
mired novelist, but a successful dramatist, a poli-
tician, and, to crown all, has he not been for many
years one of the principals on the staff of what the
newspapers call "our facetious contemporary
Punch ?" And more than this, and which I know
will give you great pleasure to hear, that in his
novel of " The Silver Cord " he has sketched the
character of a London manager, and has actually
had the liberality to make him a good man—a com-
pliment that I feel acutely, although I am afraid
for which act of audacity he privately hopes to be
forgiven. (A laugh.) I forgive him with all my
heart, and sincerely thank him for his great kind-
ness in coming to the rescue this evening. I have
now, gentlemen, to tell you the state of our fund, the
good we have done, and the good we have yet to do.
During the past year we have paid to annuitants
the sum of £9OO, in amounts varying from £3O to
£9O per annum ; about £5O has been given or re-
turned to members claiming such repayments ; we
have now 21 persons in receipt of annuities, 15 of
whom are ladies; and as we have received notice
of five more claimants during the coming year, we
shall soon have 26 decayed and retired actors and
actresses to provide for ; and though our invested
capital, when this night is over, will amount to be-
tween £13,000 and £14,000, you will see that we
shall have quite enough to do with our resources—
that we shall require all the help you can give us,
aided by the annual subscriptions of the members of
our fund, and which subscriptions, you will be glad
to know, have amounted during the past year to
£722. It does not appear to me to be publicly known
that theßoyal General Theatrical Fund is chartered,
by which charter we are enabled to hold land and re-
ceive legacies, and although I have before referred to
this fact, yet I wish again to do so, in the hope that
one of these days it may attract the notice of some
benevolent person who was once an old play-goer,
and who, remembering the names of his favourite
actors, and the many happy hours he has passed in
the pit or boxes of his chosen theatre ; who, re-
membering the many pleasant gossips and suppers
he has enjoyed after the play, and who is now rich,
will think of the " harmless gaiety" of those times,
and not forget the lighthearted-players, who, when
in their yout'a or their prime, have administered to
his amusement and instruction, and when he has
made up his mind to make his will, will say to his
lawyer—" Hang it all, Mr. Codicil, I must not for-
get the General Theatrical Fund; I must bequeath
a hundred or two to that excellent institution."
(A laugh.) We often read of large sums being left
to many deserving charities, and I hope that my
appeal this evening may induce some one now and
then to think of us ; for they might do worse. We
certainly do not profess to be Christian young men,
though we perform many Christian actions; we
support the aged and infirm, we help the sick,
and we bury oar dead ; and surely those are acts
of piety and charity, even though we do not con
vene meetings for the purpose of sending out mis.
sionaties to convert fhe poor gorilla; no, we rather
adopt the more useful and practical purposes of
charity by soothing the declining years of those
around us, mad in making cheerful the hearts of
those who have so often cheered you. I have again
to announce the receipt of her Gracious Majesty's
donation of £lOO--(sheers)—and to inform you
that Mr. Cullenford has this evening received a note
from Marlborough House, announcing that the
Prince of Wales wil! hencefortn be the patron of
this fund—(ehiers)—and in returning our thanks
and in expressing our gratitude I know there is but
one wish, one hops throughout the land, that the
ime is not far distant when we shall see her Ma-
jesty again amongst us; and no class of her sub
jects has a more fervent desire for this event than
those of the dramatic profession, for the actors have
always been a loyal body, from the days when
Major Mohun, Hart, Robinson, and other
players fought and bled for the Royal cause
to the present period ; and in these volunteering
times it may not be uninteresting to know
that Dr. Doran, in his amusing book of "Their
Majesties Servants" tells us that when the
French Emperor, the First Napoleon, was collecting
a host for the invasion of this country, the actors
were among the first to enrol themselves as volun-
teers, and it was not an unusual thing to find the
theatres closed on account of the unavoidable ab-
sence of the principal performers, summoned to drill
or other military service, then rigidly enforced ; and
I know that there are many actors and sons of actors
now in the ranks of the volunteers ; and even I have
the honour to belong to the St. George's Rifles as
an honorary member. (Cheers and laughter.) But
while I appeal to yon in behalf of our fund—while
I draw the most persuasive pictures in my power to
induce you to be generous on these occasions, I have
one little remark to make which I hope will strike
home to your sympathetic bosoms. I very well know
when you come to these festivals it is not the dinner
—the actual eating and drinking, that you care for;
you come to hear what is said, what is sung, and to
enjoy yourselves with the comfortable feeling that
you are engaged in an act of charity ; but let me hope
(hat in your zeal for the maintenance of the decayed
and retired actor, you will not altogether forget the
active and still-working one, and that you will often
be seen patronising the performances at our present
theatres, either in the stalls, the boxes, or pit—but
.lot with orders; by doing this you may prevent
many deserving actors of becoming recipients of our
dramatic charities, for by lessening the number of
claimants upon them you render their excellent ob.
jects more solid and enduring. Therefore, think
sometimes of those who are still nightly before you;
think of the pleasant recollections you have often
enjoyed after the theatre, and when at home; think
now some of you have exclaimed, "I have been so
amused !" " How capital Charles Mathews was !"
" Was not Webster excellent ?" " Didn't Miss Bate.
man make me cry ?" or, " Oh ! that Compton," or
" that Paul Bedford and Toole ;" or " What an ori-
ginal Lord Dandreary is !" and " Wasn't Buckstone
funny ?" (Loud laughter.) With these recollections
I am sure you will think of what 1 have said,
for I am certain none of you with any grateful feel-
ings in your hearts would see the exertion of
such actors, or their successors,neglected by the pub-
lic, and acting to empty benches, or to what is tech-
nically termed " paper." Though I must acknow-
ledge that there is at present no cause for complaint
for all our theatres have been wonderfully success-
ful this season ; while at the Christmas pieces and
pantomimes, to see the crowds of beautiful young
children crowing with delight is a healthy sign for
the drama of the future; they are the recruits for
our audiences yet to come, for they will always re-
member with pleasure, and without any alloy of
regret, the happy day ma which they were first
taken to the theatre, for it is a good thing to go to
a good play. Even the great Reformer, Martin
Luther, has said, when speaking of comedies, and
describing their various purposes, that no Christian
may be deterred from attending them. But as I
have wandered a little from the main question of
this evening, I therefore return to my supplication
for yon to be very liberal on this occasion. I have
explained all that we have done, and how much
we have yet to do, and though I know you have all
come here with the intention of giving something,
and am afraid, however eloqueat I might try to be,
I shall fail in persuading you to give more than you
have made up your mind to give, yet a second
thought will sometimes occur to every one. Let me
then suggest a second thought to you. Let those
amongst you who have come with the determination
to give five guineas make them eight or ten. Double
you can, or at le st turn the tails of
youryour figsixuerse(s if
iow
nwards and make nines of them ; for
your generosity to-night will greatly help to secure
to the actor in decilnc of life his indisputable right