(The Daily Mail [London, UK] - 7th June, 1920)
VESTA TILLEY'S FAREWELL TEARS
COMFORTED BY ELLEN TERRY - MEMORABLE SCENES
By AN OLD ADMIRER

Miss Vesta Tilley concluded her farewell engagement at the Coliseum on Saturday night and spoke her final good-bye to the London music-hall public. It was an occasion that stirred old memories and new thoughts. Vesta Tilley has sung on through two generations of amusement-seekers and two or three generations of amusement-providers. She was singing in the period of individual development in the eighties, when the music-hall was a shanty roofed over the back-yard of a public-house. She has sung on while the sing-song has grown into the music-hall, and the music-hall has expanded into the variety theatre, and the variety theatre has developed into the sumptuous palace of syndicated amusement. Through all the changes of popular fashions and managerial systems she has gone on, unchanging in philosophy or method, expressing herself in song and singing always the joy and glory of youth.

GLORIOUS BOYHOOD

There may be coming along some as yet undiscovered artist who will express in glad song the joyous sense of expanding opportunity that the new conditions reveal to the young English girl of to-day. But Vesta Tilley belonged to the epoch of industrial and Imperial expansion that opened out the world of which the young Englishman was the owner. That was why, being an artist and in touch with her times, she wore trousers and was what used to be called a "male impersonator."

She never really was that. She was a "boy impersonator" because the romance and poetry of her time lay in the infinite possibilities of endeavour and achievement that spread themselves out to the British boy.

She sang from the early days of expansion when she began as a child performer, of the young, for the young, and to the young. For two generations of English people she has expressed the joy of youth, and glorifying youth always she and her songs alike have endured through the years without ageing a day.

OUR SWAN-SONGS

She sang four swan-songs on Saturday night - perhaps cygnet songs would be the, better term. There were "When the right girl comes along," "What would the seaside be without th3 girls?" "Following in father's footsteps," and "Jolly good luck to the girl that loves a soldier." Each of them had its touch of kindly criticism - like a Tom Webster caricature - but each was a little poem of loving appreciation. Only a sweet man could think of the British boy as Vesta Tilley represents him. The perfectly tailored young man of the first song, the beautifully clothed young seaside exquisite, the short-jacketed Eton lad, the immortal young soldier of the last song were all - each in its own way - perfect representations of lovable English girlhood.

Each of the songs was an old one, but each was as fresh and new as the day it was first sung. The little mannerisms and characteristics of each type in walk and speech, gesture and bearing were noted with the kindly eye of Charles Dickens and reproduced with tho easy skill of the Guitry masters.

The soldier song which shows the boy in uniform with the swagger of Sandhurst and the cheerful awkwardness of the "rookie" was a pre-war song, but it expressed all the qualities which the war has revealed. In all her songs on Saturday night, as throughout her long career, not a word of hurt, not a hint of offence - nothing even of criticism but an artist's playful commentary on a subject of pleasant contemplation.

DEAR ELLEN TERRY

There were people in Saturday night's audience of widely varying ages. Some older than Vesta Tilley is reported to be - some younger than Vesta Tilley looks. But they were all of one age as she sang - the age of eternal youth which she proclaims and glorifies.

That they applauded like mad goes without saying. They have been doing that for two generations. That there was a catch of the breath in their laughter and a touch of emotion in the applause was not surprising, for when the curtain fell the world was going to be older. When the curtain fell against appealing applause it rose again, and Vesta Tilley in the khaki uniform that was the culmination of all her boy impersonations stood to be embowered in bouquets and baskets of flowers. Then the curtain fell again and rose again to show her not only still embowered, but with dear Ellen Terry, the much-loved and ever-youthful, also standing by her side and grasping her hand in affection and admiration.

What a sight was that for the great audience to see them standing hand in hand and to realise how much of truth, simplicity, and achievement they have held so long in common.

The great sactress spoke a few womanly words of loving appreciation and handed to the great actress a palm leaf, and the little great actress spoke a few words of womanly gratitude, and then her womanly emotions overcame her. and grasping for support at Ellen Terry's outstretched hand threw herself into the enfolding arms and wept happy tears, resting her head upon the comforting bosom of Juliet's never-to-be-forgotten nurse.

BOOK OF A MILLION ADMIRERS

There was the formal presentation of a great album of a million signatures and there was a little speech from a stagebox by Sir Walter de Frece, M.P., the heroine's husband, but the abiding memory of the evening was the embrace of the two great artists and the perfect sympathy and understanding in which it enfolded the vast audience.

Ellen Terry spoke of what "this wonderful little lady - I mean this wonderful little gentleman" had done for England, "when, God knows. England needed laughter" - and Vesta Tilley talked in simple, womanly way of ber desire and readiness, in the future to help those who cannot help themselves - as if, indeed, she had not been distributing happiness all her life.

Then when the tears were dried and the lights went out Vesta Tilley passed out of the stage door and became Lady de Frece.

C.E.H.

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(North China Herald [Shanghai] - 7th August, 1920)
THE RETIREMENT OF VESTA TILLEY
A Great Artist
From Our Own Correspondent - London, June 10.

Miss Vesta Tilley last week retired from, the London music-hall stage, and although she is to be seen occasionally at charity performances, it is understood that never again will she personify the masculine types she made famous or appear in the roles which her ability popularized till they brought her fame.

There is more than a touch of real regret in the minds of all music-hall goers at the disappearance of Vesta. She was the last of the old school, started before nearly all of them, and finished after all of them. There is only one other alive now making fitful appearance on the stage, and he never was a music-hall artist pure and simple, as she was. I refer to Arthur Roberts, who is now about 70.

ROUGH WORK FOR FINE TOOLS

Time has passed lightly with Miss Vesta Tilley, since her performances in the two final weeks of farewell showed that she had lost nothing of her old ability or even of her old genius, since this she really possessed. Curiously enough it was left to a woman to popularize the soldier's career, and she did so not merely on lines which elicited the approval of every military man, but which never raised a breath of criticism as to the finish, polish and refinement of her methods.

She took to the stage when the woman who appeared in masculine costume was almost invariably vulgar, yet the one thing she never showed was vulgarity, mainly because she was a thorough artist, capable of studying and reproducing the finer gradations of character in which only a few artists like Albert Chevallier have ever equalled her. It is true that her repertoire was not extensive though she added to it occasionally, and she will go down to posterity as the creatress of songs of the type of "Following in father's Footsteps", and "All Nice Girls Love a Soldier", rather than as an artist who tried a new song every other three or four weeks. Many imitators of her ability have sprung up, and one or two are quite good, but no one has ever yet equalled the original.

THE GIRL FOR THE ARMY

Perhaps she was wise to retire since these are not good times for the music hall artists. Most of them must not find it too easy to live or obtain engagements. The cinema has dealt the music hall a serious blow. In many places it has ousted it altogether. Many music hall artists have gone in for film work. Even in London the Oxford, the last home of the West End music hall haunters, is now devoted to the serious drama, while the Alhambra wobbles as from revue to cinema shows and the Empire has a rather uncertain future before it, since it has just been disposed of to purchasers who are believed to have quite other plans for it.

In the provinces the plight of of the music hall is even worse, since the failing off of public favour attracted by rival production has driven the management to adopt shows which even in large towns of 100,000 people are not even tenth rate. It is, therefore, not surprising that the movement of ten years ago which, by high salaries, tempted the leading theatrical artists to turn their attention to the music hall, has wholly stopped. Nowadays the movement is all in the other way - most of the leading artists in light comedy and musical comedy, and certainly in revue, have had something to do with the music hall at come stage or other in their career.

THE MOVIES' COMPETITION

There are a few of the older type of music hall artist left, such as George Robey, but we never see him, or rarely see him now as the music hall artist. He is tempted by revue managers and just now he is appearing at the Alhambra in a production which is simply written round him and which if he dropped out would collapse at once. This method of work is no doubt remunerative, but the strain is very considerable and it usually kills the finer shades of any artist's best work. Miss vesta Tiliey was wise never to have anything to do with it. Some few artists like Harry Tate drift backwards and forwards from revue to music hall production, never making a very long stay in either, but everyone knows that their reputation gained in the latter is never very greatly enhanced by their admitted success in the former. Revue needs broad and even exaggerated effects which are fatal to true artistry, yet the financial lure, of course, explains why many prefer to take the cash and let the credit go.

There are plenty of openings for really first class music hall entertainers, but they must be first class. Very few are in sight, and there is not one left of the rank of Vesta Tilley. Managers are always on the hunt for humour and comedy, but they never seem to find it.

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