Olga Nethersole (1866-1951)

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Olga Nethersole (1866-1951)

 

In Press and Literature

Olga Nethersole Actress and Philanthropist
(The Theatre Vol. VII., No. 77 [New York, USA] - July, 1907)

Half-hours With Celebrities - Olga Nethersole
(Lloyds Weekly News [London, UK] - 16th June, 1895)

Woman's Corner - Olga Nethersole's First Appearance
(The Brisbane Courier [Brisbane, AUS] - 2nd August, 1902)

(The Theatre Vol. VII., No. 77 [New York, USA] - July, 1907)
Olga Nethersole Actress and Philanthropist

Olga Nethersole is a good talker. This means that she can talk about something beside herself. She can converse about things that do not pertain to the drama and do so intelligently. If she had not been an actress she would have been a doctor. If not a doctor she would have been a social settlement worker. Medicine and sociology are her hobbies; acting is her profession. Preferably she talks about the former.

Back in the early days of her life she was a governess. This contact with the little folks gave her distinct theories and ideas about the rearing of future citizens. Her observations at a later period have added zest to first impressions.

During the past season she has visited all the leading juvenile courts in America, conversed with the leaders in child's reform movements, identified herself with the George, Jr., Republic, and hopes to be able to inaugurate many of these systems in England by reason of the convincing arguments she will be able to produce. Long ago she became interested in the work of the Society for the Prevention of Tuberculosis, and has appeared before various congresses as one of its foremost workers.

Her daily routine on tour always includes a visit to some hospital, reformatory or prison. During the present tour of Western America she hit upon a rather unique charity and found its results to be so eminently satisfactory that the scheme will be carried out next season. In various cities she selected a certain hospital and then personally visited the wards, one of which she agreed to supply with flowers the year around at her own expense.

First of all, however, Miss Nethersole is an actress. This prompts one to ask: how does she find time for so many other things? It is because she is an artist and business woman, each in the right proportion. Every day's schedule is as definitely arranged and carried out as if vast commercial interests depended upon it. In short, she has reduced living to a science. In the midst of this palpitating and energetic life she protests that she has much leisure and will not permit herself to be overworked.

Her powers of endurance prove the value of her system of living. She has sailed away for Europe after a tour that circled America: Boston, New Orleans, El Paso, Portland, Vancouver, Denver, Chicago, Montreal, yet she stepped aboard the steamer in perfect health and bearing - at least no outward appearance of fatigue.

Miss Nethersole is one of the few actresses who act as their own managers. She selects her plays and frequently writes the scenario for the dramatist who writes them, as in the case of "Carmen" and "Sapho." She engages her own company, rehearses each member and stage manages every production. She produces, or endeavors to produce, two new plays each season. This year she appeared in "Adrienne Lecouvreur," and a translation of Paul Hervieu's success, "Le Reveil," called "The Awakening." Thus, gradually she is forming a new repertoire, and will on later tours doubtless omit "Sapho," "Carmen," and perhaps "Camille," except on special occasions.

Her present ambition is to make an annual professional pilgrimage to some European capital in addition to her American tour. This year she selected the most critical of all cities, Paris, as the supreme test of her ability to please foreign audiences and as the opening wedge to Madrid, Vienna and Berlin, in each of which cities she is arranging to appear at a later date.

"In Latin countries I am fully aware that I shall be criticised for my restraint and coldness," she said recently when discussing her proposed invasion of Europe. "In America I have frequently heard it said that in certain roles I gave up myself too completely to the passionate warfare in which the souls of the women I have personated were concerned. This criticism, whether just or unjust, can never be made against me by Latins. They will recognize that I am one of them at heart, if not wholly by birth. There is a strain of Spanish blood in my veins. It surges and flows with great intensity and controls me, particularly when I am acting. In America I have endeavored to curb it as far as I could without having an effect upon my work. I shall be happy to play where I can let myself go into a character and play it as it should be played when an actress feels as I feel.

"Certain of these moments have been much commented upon by critics, who called them 'Nethersole's mannerisms.' The term seems ridiculous, but from the viewpoint of those who write it may be correct. I regret that this or that detail of my work may not be wholly acceptable to individuals. I regret, but can do no more. Each movement upon the stage, each inflection of the voice, is a detail of my art. I know why I do this and that. To me it is right, therefore it would be an injustice to myself to attempt to do otherwise."

Some time in July Miss Nethersole will go to her villa at Biarritz, in the south of France, to enjoy a few months of recreation. In late years she has not opened her London house for any long period. England has a depressing effect upon her; the sunny south warms and invigorates her, and she there maps out each season's work, studies new roles and catches up with the voluminous correspondence which she carries on with a veritable horde of literary and scientific men and women.

At Biarritz she is a neighbor to Edmond Rostand, and having been introduced to him under flattering auspices by Madame Sarah Bernhardt, enjoys the confidence and friendship of his family, and is one of the few guests received by the author of "Cyrano de Bergerac" and "L'Aiglon." She frequently motors over to the author's castle in the Pyrenees Mountains, dines with the family, and in the long evening hours enjoys the privilege of hearing Rostand read from his own works, project his plans for the future, if his health permits, and discusses with him the affairs of the great world from which the famous man is now an exile, partly from personal desire and partly from acting upon the advice of physicians.

Miss Nethersole is one of the very few persons who has any definite knowledge of the long-awaited bird drama of Rostand, called "Chanticleer." She has heard it from its author's lips and believes that it is worthy to rank with his other epoch-making works. For some reason, however, Rostand declines to give it to the public. All the leading managers of the world have attempted to make a bid for it, and Coquelin, the famous French comedian who created "Cyrano," has been kept waiting for years, expecting each season to be able to appear as the rooster in this masterpiece.

On each occasion the author has called a halt upon preparations for production.

"This action," said Miss Nethersole, "is, I believe, due in a great measure to Mr. Rostand's physical condition. He would not permit the work to be staged without at least six weeks rehearsal. This would mean six weeks in Paris. He is so happy in his country retreat that he cannot bring himself to the point of seriously contemplating such an ordeal. He is a very rich man. His family life is ideal. He does not care to re-enter the workaday arena, and it is unnecessary for him to do so."

The son of Rostand has ambitions to become a playwright and follow his famous father's footsteps, as did the son of Alexandre Dumas. He is an accomplished English scholar, and has promised Miss Nethersole a play in her native tongue. Last summer they had many talks about it, and during the past few months she has received from him letters that contain sketches of his scenario, convincing her that the aspirant to honors as a playwright is a worthy son of his illustrious father.

An anecdote showing the purely personal side of the actress comes to mind. I believe it has never before been published, although its authenticity is vouched for by several personal friends. During her engagement in "The Second Mrs. Tanqueray" in London several years ago she was invited by a famous artist to attend a private exhibition of his paintings, several of which have since occasioned much discussion in the art world. Accompanied by friends, she attended and was there presented to the present King of England, who was then Prince of Wales. Thoroughly acquainted with the importance of each detail of etiquette attached to a presentation to royalty, her companions were shocked when from another room they saw her leading a rather animated conversation with the Prince.

To introduce a subject to his Highness or to continue speaking with him beyond the few moments usually accorded at an informal presentation was "bad form." What would it mean to her professionally if he should make it plain that she had broken time-honored custom! Her friends stood aghast. They wondered if she might have forgotten herself for the moment. How dared she address the future king of England so familiarly! At the close of the interview they spirited her away and asked for an explanation. Without using the name, this is the answer she gave them:

"I spoke a word for 'Tom.' It may have been the only chance I will ever have. I improved it." "Tom" ? Who was "Tom"? Their fears increased. She might have blasted in a few minutes all the prestige that her artistic triumphs at the theatre had afforded her. But she felt otherwise. And she was right. Then she explained more fully.

This "Tom" had been her playfellow and friend in childhood. One day he went away to study medicine. She became a governess and later an actress. "Tom" in the meantime had become a physician. While staying in the country a few years before the artist's reception a brother of the Prince had been taken suddenly ill. "Tom" was called to attend him. His services were so acceptable that he was asked to attach himself to the Duke's personal staff. He did so and high honors seemed not afar off. He had gained royal favor. Then came the death of the Duke. Tom was almost forgotten by the family of his royal patron. Why? It was certainly not wilful oversight; merely the way of the world. Miss Nethersole was certain of this.

She reminded the Prince of his brother's former friend and physician, of the hopes that had fallen when the Duke died and of the commendable qualities of her boyhood chum. Would the Prince remember that she had spoken? He said he would. Did he? "Tom" is to-day one of the eminent surgeons of London and is frequently called by royal command to Buckingham Palace.

Miss Nether sole appeared at the Theatre Sarah Bernhardt in Paris on June 4 last, giving ten performances on successive evenings of the familiar plays in her repertoire: "Sapho," "Carmen," "Adrienne Lecouvreur," "The Labyrinth," "The Awakening," "The Second Mrs. Tanqueray," "Camille," and three others. Next season Miss Nethersole will return to America to produce a new play.

X. X.

(Lloyds Weekly News [London, UK] - 16th June, 1895)
Half-hours With Celebrities - Olga Nethersole

Without any actual fostering of an innate gift - for no member of her family had at any time been on the Stage - the ardent, artistic temperament of Miss Olga Nethereole seemed to grow spontaneously.

The union of strong dramatic instincts and a love of the fine arts on her mother's side, and on her father's an extraordinary facility for acquiring languages - for he could speak in seven different tongues and was self-taught - would seem to have produced in the young player a solidity of thought together with an intense earnestness of purpose; and these, with a large share of natural talent and a highly-strung nervous organisation, have combined to bring her so rapidly to the front ranks of English actresses.

"A lavish planet reigned when she was born," which happened to be at Kensington. As a child she was somewhat sad and morbid - never, as it were, flirting with life, but inclined to look upon everything too seriously, which, perhaps, may have taken away, not the brightness, but the trivialities of childhood's days.

Olga Nethersole

At the age of seven she became, as she laughingly explains, "the victim of circumstances, and got taken to school accidentally." The whole family escorted her two elder sisters to Holland, where they were being educated, and though there had been no previous intention of leaving her with them, the governess prevailed upon her mother to allow her to remain, and to become a pupil. Two years later, however, she returned to London, and attended the High school, Chelsea. A quick student, the little Olga absorbed knowledge, and without exactly learning her lessons contrived to get outside them, as it were, without difficulty.

Even in those early days of development her vivid imagination and strongly sympathetic nature called forth the love and companionship of those around her. In that way she gained the confidences of people much older than herself, and drew out their experiences. In her great desire to know people and life she became a great reader, and soon realised that what lay within her was a longing desire to interpret the ideas of others, and to clothe their thoughts with words. In this gradual awakening of her soul her mother's training and guidance were of the greatest help. Together they read and discussed poetry, plays, and metaphysics, and the young receptive mind threw itself heart and soul into these studies, and eagerly imbibed the feeling and the spirit of the writers.

Little as anyone foresaw it at the time, this mode of education was all leading up to what was to follow. It happened that when Olga Nethersole was nearly fourteen her sisters and brother got up a little amateur performance during their holidays, and omitted her in the cast. She - the spoilt baby of the family - wept bitterly at being left out, whereupon they introduced a servant into the piece and gave her the part, which she played with so much aplomb that a doctor friend who was present begged that she might be allowed to act in a farce to be given at the Colney Hatch asylum. Consent was given, but when the day came the little girl experienced a momentary shock, which almost overcame her. A lunatic fixed his eyes on her, which so alarmed her that no words would come. Bravely conquering the feeling of stage-fright, with the consciousness that if she did not then she never would, she continued her part, and won her first public applause.

Soon after, while on a visit to Torquay, Miss Nethersole made the acquaintance of Mr. Nutcombe Gould; he was then an ardent amateur, and was arranging a performance for the benefit of the hospital. One of the company was taken ill, and he, seeing how enthusiastic the young girl was about the stage, offered her the part, which she played so cleverly that later, when Mr. Gould determined to adopt the profession and was organising a provincial tour, he invited her to join.

"At first my mother was strongly opposed to the idea," says the young actress, "and for many days would not speak about it. It was the only disagreement we ever had, but she was the wisest and noblest of women, and when she saw how much it affected me, and that I was not 'stage-struck,' but felt it must be my vocation, she yielded, and to the day of her death helped me. Accordingly, I started on my career without any training. Indeed, when girls come to me and ask me how to begin to learn, I always tell them to learn on the stage from experience only. It is the only way to do it. I was offered three pounds a week, to my amazement, for I could not believe I was worth that to anyone."

Her first appearance was made at Brighton in her early teens, as Vera in "Moths," followed by Clara Douglas in "Money;" then she was engaged by Mr. Charles Hawtrey to play Lettice Vane in that beautiful piece "Harvest."

She went next with Miss Amy Rozelle and Mr. Dacre on tour for four months in Mr. Merivale's "Our Joan," succeeded by a part in "Twixt Kith and Kin." In "The Double Marriage" she played Miss Ellen Terry's part - Claire de Beaurepaire - and in the same year she acted with Mr. Lionel Brough in a farcical comedy, entitled, "Modern Wives." Then, returning to town, she fulfilled an engagement at the Adelphi as Ruth Medway in "The Union Jack."

"It was my first meeting with Mr. Grundy," she remarks. "The acquaintance deepened into a firm friendship, and I have the greatest admiration for him and his work. That was my first pathetic part, and it was very real to me." During the run of the piece Miss Nethersole was obliged to leave, being under agreement to originate the role of Miriam St. Anbyn in Mr. F.C. Philips' play "The Dean and his Daughter," and here she tasted largely of the sweets of success. She identified herself so thoroughly with the heroine, and in a subtle manner, and with true art so developed the character that she seemed to be growing older in each act. She made a big bound into public favour, and it was remarked that her receptions were such of which Bernhardt, Siddons, or Rachel might have been proud.

Two seasons with Mr. Hare followed; but until the Garrick was ready to be opened he lent the young player to create the part of Lola in "The Silver Falls," at the Adelphi - a role in which her inheritance of Spanish blood from her mother served her in good stead. At the Garrick she took Janet Preece in "The Profligate," and then came the grandest opportunity she could have had. During the run of "La Tosca" Mrs. Bernard Beere was taken ill, and Olga Nethersole came to the rescue; without a single rehearsal she played the titlerole with so much fire and pathos that she received a perfect ovation at its conclusion.

Then came a ten-months tour in Australia with Mr. Charles Cartwright. During this visit she added so largely to her repertory and her experience that, on her return to London and to the Garrick, where she created the role of Beatrice Selwyn, in "A Fool's Paradise," one of the most eminent critics here remarked: "She had gone away a student and come back a master." While acting every night at the Garrick Mr. Hare allowed her to perform in matinees at the Criterion, with a whole company of stars, in "The Silent Battle," where a very great personage told her that her Agatha had made him weep, and he was not ashamed!

A long run of "Diplomacy" followed; this was the first time the young player had seen Mrs. Bancroft act and she expresses herself as having been "so proud to act with her." In the revival of the piece it will be remembered that Miss Nethersole took the part of the Countess Zicka and played it with true artistic finish and an earnestness that was absolutely thrilling.

Her next venture was to take the Court theatre and, under her brother Mr. Louis Nethersole's able management, to produce "The Transgressor" (by Mr. A. W. Gattie), herself the Sylvia. "It was a great responsibility," she observes, "but my brother has a peculiar gift for organisation and is so experienced a manager." "Need I say," she adds, presently, with a smile, "he is also the most delightful companion in the world?" "The Transgressor" made an enormous success, and it is scarcely surprising that Miss Nethersole's rendering of Sylvia brought her fame to the ears of many American managers.

Among four offers that she received she chose Mr. Daly's, and after making a provincial tour with her own company the brother and sister sailed for the States. Here she had a right royal time, as is well known, and from the President downwards, met with so much kindness, favour and encouragement, that she declares "it developed her to what she may be, more than aught else."

She played Juliet for the first-time, never having even seen it, and knowing nothing of its traditions. Camille in "La Dame aux Camellias" was an absolute triumph, also "Frou Frou." Before its production her appearance as Camille was called "an unwise move, as it almost invited comparison with Sarah Bernhardt, Duse, and Jane Hading." But she carried it all through brilliantly, and won golden opinions on all sides. The last two performances of Camille at Boston brought in the sum of 780l!

On her return from America Miss Nethersole had contemplated taking a theatre in London, and, appearing in the same characters she had impersonated there with such marked success, but, instead of doing so she was induced by Mr. Hare to take up the part of Agnes in "The Notorious Mrs. Ebbsmith." "I am deeply interested," she explains, "in the psychology of the character, which is one of the most complex I have ever played. It is terribly realistic, and I have the idea of Louise Michel ever in my mind."

Miss Olga Nethersole has now a splendid prospect before her. Two American managers, Messrs. Daniel and Charles Frohman, have joined forces in order to star her, in October, on a tour of twenty four weeks in the United States; and under the contract Paris, Berlin, St. Petersburg, &c., will be visited, while next spring she is to appear in a magnificent Shakesperian production.

The gifted actress has made her name early in life. As she modestly puts it, she "has been lucky enough to be successful right away from the beginning." Strongly emotional and realising vividly the salient points in every part she represents, she studies the flesh, blood and brains - so to speak - of each with earnestness and enthusiasm; while each suggests delicacy of treatment and the refinement of her own nature. "But I did not understand what real feeling was," she says, "before I went to America. The audiences are so encouraging and sympathetic; they seem to hold out a hand and draw one along with them!"

HELEN C. BLACK.


(The Brisbane Courier [Brisbane, AUS] - 2nd August, 1902)
WOMAN'S CORNER - OLGA NETHERSOLE'S FIRST APPEARANCE

Olga Nethersole thus relates the circumstances attending her first appearance on the stage, to "M.A.P.":

The first audience I ever played before was an audience of lunatics. It was a terrible experience - a nightmare to me now - and I feel, without attaching blame to anyone in particular, that I ought not to have been allowed, as a morbid, nervous, impressionable child, to risk the ordeal. I was only 12 at the time. With my brother and sisters, in the drawing-room at home, I had played a small part in a farce called "Leave It to Me." A friend of an intimate friend of my mother was a doctor at Colney Hatch Asylum, and he (the doctor) was looking around him for some sort of entertainment for his patients. This friend of my mother, who was one of the survivors of our homely presentation of "Leave It to Me," suggested that our services would be most acceptable to the asylum doctor, and so it came to pass soon after that our little company of amateur actors and actresses went with our farce to the sorrowful house of tragedy, and played it. On that most melancholy occasion I had my first and last attack of stage-fright. It was too horrible, and I cannot today roll back my life's panorama to that most terrible of pictures without making my heart turn sick and faint. I recall the tiny stage, and the feeling, when the curtain rose, that the audience were pressing against me and stifling me. The sea of mad faces was terrible to me, and yet, owing to my morbid nature, fascinating, too. Some of the patients at the back of the room had keepers with them, and I remember noticing, even in my frenzy, that these looked at least mad. But before the curtain had been up a few seconds - few in reality, though what thousands of them there seemed to be! - one of them, a woman and a beautiful woman, poor, stricken soul! rose-up from her seat, and fixing me with her great, wild eyes, waved her arms above her head, and gave utterance to such sounds as might have proceeded from some dying wild beast of the jungle. I was paralysed. I could not open my mouth; my lips seemed glued together. I had to start the piece by singing a little song which went:

Oh, would I were a bird,
With wings attached to me;
A dove would be preferred
Then, Joe, I'd Hy to thee.

I could not speak. There was a ghastly pause. Then I was dimly couscious of the doctor's voice saying in a whisper: "Oh, would I were a bird." Yes; I knew the lines well enough, but I could not open my mouth to utter them! Then, a longer pause, and then again the doctor's voice, this time saying to some one: "For heaven's sake ring down the curtain!" At that moment a voice I could scarcely recognise as my own sang out sepulchrally the opening line of the song, and then I went on. I believe that had I been unable to get that line out, and the curtain had fallen by the doctor's direction, I should never have been an actress, for I could never have summed up the courage to try again.

Although my mother practically hushed me to sleep with Shakespeare, she was most severely untheatrical, as were all my relatives; and when, some years after my experience at Colney Hatch I evinced an unmistakable inclination to leave the life of a governess for that of an actress - for I was a governess, you know, before I was an actress; a teacher betfore I was a learner; the opposition I had to face was of a more than usually formidable kind. The late Mr. Nutcombe Gould, who for some years was a dignified ornament of the St. James's stage, and who had seen me play in some amateur theatricals at my home in Kensington, gave me a letter ot introduction to Mr. Charles Hawtrey, saying that I might possibly be able to secure a position in the "Harvest" company. I went every day for six weeks to Mr. Hawtrey, and at last the drops of water made an impression on to stone, and I made my debut as Lettice Vane, a comedy character in the play in question, at the Theatre Royal, Brighton, and was at once hailed by the Brighton Press as a coming comedian! One critic, in a moment of extreme generosity, declared that I was cut out to interpret the merry mood of the dramatic author, and that if ever I made my name as an actress it would be in low comedy! Rather a blow for a young woman whose heart was full of the hope of becoming some day a prominent figure of high tragedy!

I have spoken of the events of the days of my youth. I leave it to others to speak of what I have achieved by remaining true to that creative faculty which Albani detected in me when I was a child, and which Jefferson praised in me when I became a woman. And, finally, with regard to the characters I play, I would like to repeat a few words from a great many I had the honour - an honour previously accorded only to Irving and Jefferson - of speaking before the Graduate Club of the University of Chicago. The words are these: "I hold that it is the duty of the stage, as an educational factor (which, if it is anything, it certainly is), to hold the mirror up to nature and to deal with both pleasant and unpleasant phases of human life, not necessarily forcing the one upon the attention of the public at the expense of the other; but it is the duty of the dramatist to deal with life as he finds it, no matter whether it be pleasant or unpleasant. If you are truthful you cannot shut your eyes to one phase, and open them to the other. But I will qualify the statement by asking the dramatist not to expose the disease without suggesting the remedy."


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