Annie Hughes

(The Echo [London] - 21st January, 1898)
MISS ANNIE HUGHES - THE HEROINE OF "SWEET NANCY"

"I shall be pleased to see you in the Avenue Theatre between seven-thirty and eight." Thus did Miss Annie Hughes respond to my request for an interview. It was a few minutes past the mid-hour when I presented myself at the stage door of the Avenue Theatre, and, with less delay than one generally encounters on such missions, I was bidden enter the presence of Miss Hughes - the brighest, freshest, and most natural amongst the young actresses of to-day.

Under such conditions one is bound to experience one of two sensations - either disillusionment or increased appreciation. To meet the exponent of Sweet Nancy without the intervening footlights sets the latter sentiment in motion, for those very qualities which have made Miss Annie Hughes popular as an actress are temperamental. There is a latent, shyness in her manner, or perhaps it is more in the expression of her eyes which gives a fascinating piquancy to her conversation.

"You have, of course, been interviewed many times," I say, as my subject shows some signs of uneasiness at the prospect of interrogation, but quickly comes the surprising answer, "Indeed I have not, for I am not at all sure I care about personalities; indeed, I think it a mistake to put one's private affairs before the public, but you want me to talk about my work, don't you? and that is a very different thing."

"Well, then, to come to the point at once, how was it you came to play 'Saucers'?"

"Because it had always been my wish to play a Cockney part, but there was a stronger reason than that, of course, for one cannot achieve wishes quite so easily on the stage. You may remember, A Bit of Old Chelsea was originally brought out as a front piece at the Court Theatre, when Sweet Nancy was produced there. Had things fallen out as was originally intended, Catulle Mende's mime play was to have been mounted as the curtain-raiser. My husband, who was producing the plays, went to Paris to see Chaude d'Habits, and he was charmed with it; but he foresaw that when Anglicised the most striking effects would have to be so modified that the balance of the piece would be lost."

"And then you decided to appear as 'Saucers'?"

"Well! I had read A Bit of Old Chelsea, without any idea of playing the flower-girl myself. It was my husband who suggested I should play the part, and we settled the cast, and began the rehearsals within twelve hours."

"And how did you manage to get such a vividly realistic sfudy; was it taken from life?"

"Not direct, but I suppose one notes the characteristics of familiar types half unconsciously, and I have always given a certain amount of attention to the flower girls. I can hardly explain why, but they appealed to me as character studies. But look what a realist Saucers is, this is her basket, a genuine article which has seen active service. The clothes were all secured direct from their original owner, a flower girl, so no one can challenge the accuracy of the style."

"I wonder what a real flower-girl would think of the play"

"Oh! that I know. I have had an expert opinion. There is a very well known flower-girl called - now, what is she called - Kitty: yes, that's her name. I thought I should like to have Kitty's opinion, and so I gave her tickets for the pit. She did not seem much taken with the idea of coming to the theatre, and she said, to use her own phraseology, 'I don't care nuffin abart play actresses, but I'll come and see you as you give me the tickets, I loike you, you'r a perfec' laidy you are'."

"And what was her verdict, did she approve of your rendering, Miss Hughes?"

"Oh yes, and she also discussed the play and up to a certain point she found nothing to complain of. The thing which struck her as not being natural was Saucers not taking part in the fight. 'She wouldn't a stopped and watched it. Not much, she'd ave come dahn and punched the other fellow's ed, that's what she would a been at' was her criticism."

"Since the part appeals to you so strongly, I take it you like a spice of pathos in your comedy, Miss Hughes?"

"Yes, I suppose I do, but I think mood governs you, for one night you are more influenced by the comedy of a part, and another night by the pathos of it. I am afrad I disagree with those who say a long run is irksome and detrimental to work. The very fact that mood governs both actor and audience preserves the freshness of a play, and I do not see how, if you take an interest in what you are doing, you can become stereotyped."

"You have played Sweet Nancy a good many times, haven't you?"

"From first to last, yes; for you see it has been taken from theatre to theatre since it was originally produced at the Lyric. That was seven years ago. No the play is not mine; it belongs to my husband and a friend of his. We have had several applications for it to be played in America, but thus far refusal has followed the request."

"Have you ever played in America?"

"Never, although I have almost gone across on several occasions. I am a little curious to know how they would receive me, for I have listened to such conflicting opinions as to my probable success there. One will tell me that my essentially English appearance and manner would appeal to Americans, and then I hear that they have any number of 'home-raised' girls in my line. Some day, perhaps, I shall see which theory is sound."

"Amongst the parts you have played, which is your favourite character?"

"I was very fond of Little Lord Fauntleroy, and also that of Susan Macreary in Held by the Enemy. But it is so difficult to say, isn't it? For I think you like a part according to the power of its appeal to the audience. But I am afraid I must run away now, for Saucers is wanted; but, before you go, will you have a cup of her caufee? No? Well, then, I will say good-night."

"Oh, by the way," said Miss Hughes, as she was hurrying away, "it may amuse your readers to know that when we were rehearsing A Bit of Old Chelsea, we sent for a real flower-girl to have a good look at her, and in the course of our conversation I asked her how I ought to dress. I had been hard at work all the morning, and probably did not look very neat, for she looked at me critically,and replied, 'Oh! wear anything you like. What you have got on will do, just toidy up your 'air a bit.' I needn't tell you I felt rather crushed." Then, with a hurried hand-shake, Miss Hughes disappeared.

When I had entered the theatre I was greeted by just such a bright, attractive being as one would suppose Sweet Nancy ought to be; but, when I left, the figure which passed on to the stage was hardly recoglisable. The mass of light brown hair had disappeared under a heavy black wig, with the regulation straight fringe, the oval contour of the face was gone by the application of a touch of blue on the cheeks, and the vivacity had given place to the somewhat weary look which seems to be the heritage of the poorer classes in London. The slight upright figure had taken a droop, and the roundness of the shoulders was enhanced by the shawl put on cornerwise. The disguise was complete, from the shuffling of the ill-shod feet to the crown of tbe wide black hat, from which the feathers drooped their uncurled length. Phil May never drew with skilful pencil a more lifelike sketch.

N.J.S.

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Annie Hughes (1869-1954)

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