Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1889-08-31
"REMINISCENCES OF CHAs. READE
The Great NOvelist's Kind Heart-Suf-
ferings of His Last Days.

Sophie Eyre writes in the New York Herald:
what, crying?" said quiet voice, and a
kind hand was laid on my shoulder. looked
up and found Charles Reade standing by my
side
'Oh, Mr.. Reade, am so sorrym managed
to sob out
Pettitt and l are satisfied with you. Come
here, Pettitt, and tell her So" he called to Mr..
Henry Pettitt, his co-author That gentleman
was all kindness, but was not to be comforted,
and knew had done badly and felt very I'M
happy. Both the kind authors did their best
to reassure me, and as Charles Reade turned
away he said: Poor Juno! must take her out
of the donkey cart"
The above ts. d"n; took place on the
morning after the production Of drama en-
titled Love and Money" by Charles Reade
and Henry Pettitt. l had been cast for comedy
part quite unsuited to me. The critics that
morning had not hesitated in saying so, and
had been told in pretty plain language that
''the sooner l returned to heavy parts the bet
ter the playgoing public would be pleased"
was very unhappy. l knew the critics were in
the right, but l was miserable to think that
Charles Reade should despise me. But re-
membered his kindness, and then he called me
Poor Juno" That made me proud and happy,
but what did he mean by the donkey csrt?"
l reflected for a time and finally concluded it
must be ''the part" 81 course. saw it all.
The part was not worthy of me any more than
donkey cart would have been worthy of
"JunO, so felt sure in my own heart that
should shortly be taken out of the donkey
cart" was not mistaken. Anew nights after
the stage manager said: "Mr. Reade would
like to see you after the performance, Miss
Eyre" My heart beat with pleasure. rushed
to my room and hurriedly changed my stage
dress and rrasaDtad m vself aft his nfHca
He was sitting in huge armchair, covered
up with furs, looking very ill, but the brilliant
brown eyes shone as brightly as ever, and
smile (what sweet smile he had) on his
handsome face. He greeted me kindly and
said
well. my poor Juno, am going to take you
out Of that donkey cart Young man," turn
ing to his secretary, 'show Miss Eyre that
paper you have just written OUT
took it and found it was a call for rehearsal
the following Monday. Rachel the Reaper
was to be played as a first piece before the
drama every night and was cast for Rachel.
"Now, my child" Charles Reade said, ''this
is one of my favorite small dramas, and I am
going to find out what Juno can do in strong
emotion"
thanked him from my heart, and as babe
him goodnight he stretched his hand out to
me. l gave him mine, which he held for a few
moments, and looking earnestly in my eyes,
said: Juno, 1 like you. You have an honest
nome
now and get good nights rest and be as
bright as needle tomorrow at rehearsal.
Goodnight my child, and may God bless you'll"
could only look my thanks, my heart was
too full for speech; 30 l stopped and kissed his
hand and got from the room the best way
could. Oh, how happy l was! Could 1t be true
that this great genius had condescended to no
tice such an insignificant person as myself?
could scarcely believe it, but it was true.
Well, played Rachel, and to this day the re-
membrance OF that first night brings thrill of
JOY to my heart. The theater was packed. The
little play ''went" splendidly. All. how kind
every one was to me! The actors crowded
around me and dear old John Ryder shook me
by the hand and remarked that my perform
ance reminded him of the days when he was
first on the stage and great actresses trod the
boards, by gad' All this was very kind, but 1
was waiting for the good opinion of one
priced before all others. 1 had Just reached
my room when was handed note.
''Charles Reade desires the pleasure of Miss
Eyre's company at supper. Carriage is wait
ing"
Then knew that he was pleased drove to
his house to find most Of the great literary
celebrities of the day were present Mr.. Reade
met me at the door and knew by his face that
was approved OF, but he said no word of any
kind.
What delightful supper it was! Alas who
then thought that the brilliant wit who was
| charming every one by his genius was stricken
by mortal disease? He kept the table alive
with his witticisms and anecdotes about Ellen
Terry, Mrs. Bancroft, &C., when, suddenly ris-
ing from his chair, he said:
Gentlemen, drink to the health Of Miss
Eyre, my Juno, who tonight l have taken out
OF donkey cart She made me forget my
more would wish to add that you, gentlemen
Of the press, shall not kill Charles Reade until
he has seen Juno play Peg Wellington"
He saw me play Peg before his death It
would be egotistical on my part to repeat all
the kind things he said, but it may interest my
readers to know it was the last theatrical per-
Torrance Charles Reade ever saw.
After the above episode of the supper Mr.
Reade and myself became firm friends. His
health was failing fast, and in the autumn of
the first year In which l met him he became
very restless and constantly expressed q desire
to see once more the cities Of Europe and the
celebrated pictures of which he was passion
ately fond. All preparations were made for his
departure, but something seemed to weigh on
his mind. He would watch me with an intense
sadness in his eyes when we met, until one day
could bear it no longer, and ventured to ask
| him if there was anything in my small power
that could do for him.
He looked at me very gravely for a few mo-
ments and said:
Juno, have not long to live, I know, but I
have an intense longing to see once more some
OF the beautiful things on this earth before I
| leave it; but, child, am afraid to go alone,
10 you mink you could give up the theater for
| a while and come abroad and nurse q poor, sick
| old man?"
need not tell my answer. He was nv best
| and dearest friend. How gladly went with
him! He had many dark days. His sufferings
were intense at times, but it was wonderful the
| amount Of travelling he could do.
| He always seemed better when he was NOV
ing. ! had the best opportunity in the world
| to find out then what great and charitable
heart he had. His greatest pleasure was to ind
out some poor artist or student and to helm
them. And this was always done in the kind
| est and most delicate manner.
remember once demonstrating with him
when he returned one day to his hotel exc
| hausted from q found Quit four flights of
stairs to poor artists studio in Antwerp. Said
he Juno, don't scold me. Poor young man
was too proud to come to me, 90 I had to 20 to
poor young man." All, great heart! How MANY
Borrowing ones you left behind when you went
| to the land of shadows!
His last letter to me from Monte Carlo I
prize beyond all my poor possessions. ssJuno. I"
he wrote, II am coming home to die. II Rrieyes
me for your sake; for my own am glad Poor
Juno! took her out Of the donkey cart, Do
! not fret too much, my child, when 1 am rome.
but should like TO think You wouldn't ouite
forget your old friend, Charles Reade
No, my friend shall never forget Won: your
s'p0or Juno" has been in many ssdonkev
cart since you left her, but there has been M
Charles Reade to help her out; but she tbanks
1 God from her heart that il was her fate 10 meet
Il Il