New-York tribune., 1917-07-29

those connected with his own profes-
sion. | remember a certain Sicilian
actor, Signor Grasso, who had been
lionized throughout London society, and
was, prior to his departure, entertained
by his English-speaking brothers in art
at banquet presided over by the Lu-
cullus-like Beerbohm Tree. 1t was mid
night one Sunday evening before the
distinguished company parted from the
purlieus of a fashionable hotel, where
the principal participants came to the
door to bid goodby to their eminent
and emotional guest, who embraced
everybody within reach with more than
Gallic fervor. At last a taxi was hailed
and he jumped in reluctantly, telling
the chauffeur to drive him to the the
atre where he had been appearing. "But
why does he want TO go to the theatre
on Sunday night?" inquired some one.
"Oh!" retorted the eyer-ready Tree, "he
wants to kiss the fireman good night"
One of Trees favorite stories was
that of the inmate of lunatic asylum,
said to be a superannuated actor
manager. He was sane on every point
except that he imagined he was the
Almighty, and consequently liked to be
treated with every respect, amounting
almost to veneration. Visiting day had
come around and some of his friends
had called to see him, but they OBJ,
served an obvious coolness on his part
to a certain lady in the party, and
suggested she should play up to his
well-known weakness. Being a good
actress, she did so, and during a lull
in the conversation she turned to him
and said, "Mr. So-and-so, do you think
I can be saved ?" Pardon me, madame"
the Almighty actor-inmate replied with
= lordly gesture, as he turned aside,
"but never talk shop!"
Tree was intolerant Of criticism,
which was like a red rag to a bull to
him, and he did not at all appreciate
a famous quip of Irving's. The latter
was choosing a horse for a certain
spectacular production of his own at
the OBI Lyceum, and a variety of these
equines were being put through their
PAGES by the man who supplied them
for stage use. "H'm," muttered Sir
Henry, pointing TO one Of the quieter-
looking animals before him and turn
ing to the theatrical horse dealer,
"good actor that" Eyes. sir!" replied
the man, splendid actor, Sir 'Enry.
The only thing that's wrong with him
is when Mr.. Beerbohm Tree gets on
his back, he always jibs and kicks a
bitt" "Ha!" said Irving, "critic, too,
chi" and engaged the horse.
Miss Edith Wynne Matthison, who
was Sir Henry Irving's last leading
woman, as she was Sir Herbert Trees
in his American production of "Henry
VIII" (both she and l, incidentally,
joining Irving in England and Tree in
America at the same time), wrote to
me, apropos Of the latter's decease;
"Sir Herbert's death was a great
shock TO me. He had always seemed so
strong and hearty. His powers Of en-
durance were marvellous, leaving US
younger ones far behind | have many
pleasant memories Of his hospitality
and kindness. had the greatest ad-
mration for his persistence in pursuit
Of his ideal, and for his desire to pro-
duce lovely things. am very glad that
| had the opportunity of playing with
him. The stage will be poorer for his
absence" And, assuredly, such is the
case, in England especially, for America
had not yet seen much of Trees best
work and most individual art
My own more personal "reminiscences
are embodied in another article. which
awaits publication, and in this | can
perhaps more fttingly pay tribute 10
the versatility of Trees genius and the
memory of a great artist.