CHAPTER VI

Odell-His discretion-His medical science-His susceptibility -His visit to America-His reticence-His appreciation of detail-My experience as a teacher of elocution-As a stagemanager to amateurs-An aspirant who was to take London by storm.

It was when I joined the Haymarket company that I first met Odell, probably the most remarkable and popular Bohemian in London. There are many men who claim to be Bohemians on the strength of ill-manners and a soiled shirt. But Odell is a genuine gipsy by temperament. He could not be conventional if he tried, nor could he if he would allow a thought for his personal interest to trammel his picturesque humour. I imagine that the Bancrofts engaged him, as a comedian of the same school as the late George Honey, for the part of Graves. Then, I expect, Arthur Cecil rebelled against the part of Sir John Vesey, and this may have been how the latter part came to be finally allotted to Odell. I do not believe that Odell was ever born, and this would account for the fact that no one knows his age. I believe that when the

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Savage Club was started they found him there. His appearance has never changed. When I first saw him he had very long hair, which hung about his shoulders. He wore a sombrero hat, and a very long frock-coat, green with age (the last time I saw him, a year or two ago, I fancy he was wearing the same). He presented a striking contrast to the well-groomed young men who formed the bulk of the company. We considered ourselves a very smart lot. It was popularly believed that, in place of the ordinary address-book to be found in most stage-halls, the door-keeper of the Haymarket was merely provided. with a copy of Burke's Landed Gentry'; also that anyone aspiring to join us had to drive a four-in-hand up Suffolk Street and down again, and that his engagement depended upon how he turned the corner. In such exclusive company the unconformable Odell found few friends. I think Kemble and I were his only intimates. Miss Linda Dietz especially disliked him. I don't know why, nor, very likely, did she.

One night, just before Holy Week, during which the theatre was to be closed, several of us were sitting in the green-room boasting of where we were going to spend our holiday. One was going to Badminton to stay with the Duke of Beaufort ; another was going to run up to Scarborough to visit 'dear old Londesborough'; another was afraid

'the dear Duchess would be really offended' if he disappointed her when Odell entered the room. Everyone was for a moment struck dumb at his audacity in venturing so suddenly to intrude. Miss Dietz swung round her chair, and turned her back upon him. As soon as we had recovered, however, someone resumed the conversation. 'And where

are you going for your holiday, Miss Dietz?' 'Oh,' exclaimed Odell, replying for her, in his drawling voice of indescribable quality, 'we're not going to tell anyone where we're going!'

On another occasion poor Mrs. Bancroft had wounded her hand rather severely with a breadknife, and she was obliged to appear with her arm in a sling. We all stood round her, praised her pluck, and expressed our sympathy. She herself, however, made very light of the casualty. 'Sir Henry Thompson says it will soon be well,' she told us. 'But he said it was a pretty bad gash. He said it was very lucky for me that I'm not a drinker. I drink very little besides milk and now and then a little out of "Bogie's" pint of claret, so that my flesh heals extraordinarily quickly. It seems that's not so with the poor people who drink. A slight wound may be a very serious thing to anyone with a quantity of alcohol in the system.' 'Oh yes,' observed Odell, from the back of the group, 'that's a very well-known fact. Indeed,

I often cut my finger, just to see if I've had enough.'

When the world was many years younger, Odell, at some small country theatre, played the Judge in a version of Effie Deans.' In an early part of the play it was his duty to condemn the heroine to death. But he was so affected by her piteous appeal, as well as by her beauty and charm, that, instead of imposing the extreme penalty of the law, he stopped the case, acquitted her, and told her that she left the court without a stain upon her character. He proceeded to thank the jury for the attention they had paid to the case, and told them they had exemption for five years. He then rose, and prepared to leave the court. No one knew what to do. The stagemanager flew to the side and, concealing his fury as well as he could, implored the actor to go back and amend his decision. Accordingly, Odell resumed the throne of justice, and, calling back the unfortunate Effie, said to her in solemn tones: Prisoner at the bar, the pardon that I late pronounced was an idle jest. I did but dally for a moment with your feelings. The actual sentence of the court upon you is, that you be taken back to the cell from which you And he proceeded to sentence her to death in due form.

came.

Odell has often threatened to go to America, and on such occasions he has been fêted at farewell

suppers by his myriads of friends, and has remained at home, to their great relief and delight. The only time he actually went to that interesting Transatlantic suburb he told no one. It so chanced that Pinero was going by the same boat. It was that brilliant playwright's first excursion of the kind, and he left this country with a good deal of ceremony. There was a special carriage full of correspondents, who travelled to Liverpool to see him off. They accompanied the illustrious author on board his vessel, and as the tender left the side of the Cunarder there was much cheering and waving of handkerchiefs, and even weeping. As the little boat faded out of sight in the direction of Liverpool, and the ocean greyhound bade her farewell through a hoarse steamhooter, and dipped her nose into the waves, Pinero, himself a little overcome by emotion, turned from the taffrail, and suddenly saw, seated at his elbow, the quaint form of his old friend Odell, looking exactly as usual-the same coat, the same hat, the same locks. 'Odell!' cried Pinero, in astonishment. 'Why, what on earth are you doing here?' 'I'mI'm seeing myself off,' replied Odell simply.

The skipper at first fought rather shy of Odell. He may have suspected him to be a pirate in disguise; but after a few days, when he found how popular a passenger he had on board, he resolved to unbend.

He met our friend on the upper deck.