The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1885-08-30
ROBSON'S "REMINISCENCES.
An Interesting Chat with Stuart Robson, the
Comedian.
New York Trihnnn.

New York Tribune.
Stuart Robson, the comedian, is an accom-
pished talker, and he seasons his talk with SO
much interesting Renaissance. and can
sion, discuss matters literary we'll as dramatic
with so much good sense and cleverness that he
is one of the pleasantest companions the Ameri-
can stage affords. Sitting in his prettily fUrn-
nished parlor at the St. James Hotel the other
day, his clean shaver, mobile face expressing the
continual change of thought and idea, Mr.. Rob
son entertained a visitor for several hours, not
one minute of which seemed dull or tiresome
Speaking of the advance in popular taste,
which renders the production of the play in so
careful manner an absolute necessity Mr..
Robson gave credit to Henry Irving the fore
most educator of the public in that direction.
There is no man for whom l have a higher
admiration" said he. II remember some years
ago being at the principal hotel in New Orleans.
The corridor crowded with people, when
years, who wore long, old fashioned cloak.
Suddenly every one present ranged along the
walls Of the passage and the old gentleman
passed up every hat was dotted and every head
bowed. | knew at once it was the idol of the
Southeners, jeff Davis. Only once since have
seen any parallel to that. 1t was in London
when saw tall, thin figure walking along the
Strand with peculiar springy stride. saw old
men raise their hats and draw aside to let him
pass; and felt proud myself, for this reverence
was paid to Henry Irving as an actor-and AIN
actor, too"
About Ellen Terry Mr. Robson quoted
curious remark of Jefferson's to the effect that
she possessed the genius of insanity. He also
repeated a story of the same actors anent W. S.
Gilbert, the dramatic author Talking to Gilbert
one day Jefferson said:
II have been reading your exquisite Wicked
World, Mr.. Gilbert and felt that you could
write the most beautiful comedy of our genera
tion if you would only portray heroine with a
heart Why don't your
Because 1 have never met a woman with
heart from whom could draw such a heroine"
was the cynical remark.
THE recent outpouring of Grant anecdotes"
said Mr.. Robson. "has reminded me of
which do not think has been printed Crane
| and myself were playing some years ago in a
we'll known managers theater out of New York.
The first act was over, and we were chatting in
the wings with our manager, when one
of the boys rushed mp to tell us that
General Grant and his family were in one Of
the boxes. flush of gratifed pride mounted to
| the managerial face, followed by look of
agonized doubt as be evidently reflected that
perhaps the General had 'deadheadcd' into the
box. Did you send him box, RobsonP he
asked me. and On my replying in the negative,
he pulled card out of his pocket, and scrib
bling line on it, told the boy to take it to the
box-otfce and bring back an answer The boy
rushed off, his head full of the General and
returned in a few minutes with the same card,
which he handed to Mr. Manager A CHASTITY
look crossed his face as he read it, and without
a word handed it to me. The first line read in
the rather shaky managerial caligraphy: Did
General Grant pay for his boxr while under
meath appeared No. But my son Fred did.
L. s. Grant
THE boy had taken it to the box instead of
the box Office"
At his cottage in Cohasset, this summer Mr..
Robson received several visits from Edwin
Booth, of whom and of whose father he told
many anecdotes. One of them was to this effect:
'Playing in Boston, long ago. the elder Booth
was seized with sudden fancy for taking long
night walks, on which he made his son accom-
pany him. One night they started out after
midnight. and for three hours walked about the
docks and quays. Not soul did they meet un-
til on their return to the hotel they saw dark
figure following Them skulkng in the shadows
of the warehouses. Edwin was somewhat
scared. but his father stepped forward and in a
LOUD voice said, Good evening, my friend The
man did not answer but came forward into the
light and showed himself, in looks at least, a
thorough ruffan. With curse he came toward
them. The old man drew himself up and asked,
who are you. my friendl Who youP I'm
thief that's what am said the fellow. And
l. said Booth in a voice of wonderful sweetness,
and am pirate and he shook the astonished
rufian warmly by the hand The effect was
electrical. Edwin Booth said, and the man
trouble them no further"
Of BOucicauit Robson had many stories. He
referred to the time when the old Park Theater
was building and the entire force of workmen
were doing nothing on full pay, waiting for Bou3
cicault to give them directions. AT length the
ca ptalists rushed in to say that Boucicault must
come round and set the men to work They
must wait" said Dion, II have important mat
tiers to attend to, with dignifed wave of his
hand. Nothing is of more Importance than
this, said the enraged capitalist. Are you not
aware sir" sad the author actor, that thirty
seven millions of the cultivated pubic Of the
globe are dependent for their literary pabulum
on me, and shall disappoint them in order to
attend to few paltry scores of ignorant work
menF and he kept the men waiting.