#soubrette

Nouveaux Travestissemens, 1830, No. 2: Soubrette, by Paul Gavarni.

Lillian Russell's only known recording, from 1912

"Come Down Ma Evenin' Star" from John Stromberg's Twirly Whirly (1902), performed by Lillian Russell. During the production of Twirly Whirly, John Stromberg delayed giving Lillian Russell her solo for several days, saying it wasn't ready. When he committed suicide a few days before the first rehearsal, the sheet music for Come Down Ma Evenin' Star was found in his pocket. It became Lillian Russell's signature song, and is the only one she is known to have recorded.

Prima Donnas and Soubrettes of Light Opera and Musical Comedy in America by Lewis C. Strang:

EDNA MAY

A PRETTY face and a gentle, winning personality brought Edna May into prominence in the most dramatic fashion. Edna May Petty, the daughter of E. C. Petty, a lettercarrier in Syracuse, New York, lovely to look upon and demure in manner, had some talent for singing, but more for dancing, when her parents yielded to her entreaties and said that she might go to New York to study for the stage. She was only sixteen years old. Hardly had she settled down to her singing and dancing lessons, however, when along came Fred Titus, at that time the holder of the hour bicycle record and one of the most prominent racing men in the country. They were married, but Edna May remained just as determined as ever to go on the stage. Her ambitions were forced for a time to be satisfied with occasional opportunities to substitute in church choirs. Her name first appeared on a playbill when “Santa Maria” was produced at Hammerstein’s in New York, but the part was so small as to be practically non-existent. Then she was engaged for White's Farcical Comedy Company and appeared in Charles H. Hoyt's * A Contented Woman."

At this point there is a dispute as regards Miss May's next move, or at least there Was a dispute until manager and star patched up their difficulties. George W. Lederer was wont to claim that Edna May joined the chorus of his prospective “ The Belle of New York" company. At the last moment, the woman whom he had engaged for leading part disappointed him. He had to do something quickly, and he cast about in his own chorus for a girl who might fill the part for a night or two until he could find someone to take it permanently. His discerning eye fell on the plaintive prettiness of Edna May. *She'll look the part, anyhow,” he declared. So in this haphazard fashion, Violet Grey, the Salvation Army lassie, was passed over to her, and, presto! her fortune was made.

“But it was not that way at all,” pouted the gentle Miss May, after she had signed a contract to leave Mr. Lederer and return to London under some one else's care. “ I never was in Mr. Lederer's chorus. I went to Mr. Lederer after I had been playing a small part in the “Contented Woman’ company. I begged him to put my name down for something even if it were ever and ever so litle, and he gave me the part of Violet Grey in ‘The Belle.'"

At this time, also, — this period devoted by Miss May to the signing of the contracts, which never amounted to anything, after all, —a second dispute arose regarding Miss May'sindebtedness to Mr. Lederer for her success in “ The Belle." Mr. Lederer announced to a deeply impressed public that he had trained Miss May with the most extraordinary attention to detail. He had made her walk chalk-lines on the stage, and had written on the music-score minute directions regarding gestures, even indicating the exact point where she was captivatingly to cast down her eyes.

"No, no, no," declared Miss May. “Al that is very unkind and very untrue. He did not teach me all or nearly all I know about my art, and he did not have to write out gestures and full directions for my conduct on the stage. Not one word of this sort of thing was written in the score. Mr. Lederer rehearsed me, it is true, but not as if he were rehearsing a performing seal. He gave me an opportunity, and for that I am very grateful But that is all he did. I am not such a fool as Mr. Lederer is always pretending to think me."

However, regarding Miss May's extraordinary popular success in “The Belle of New York" in this country, and more especially in London, there can be no dispute. That is a fact discernible without opera glasses. It was, however, almost wholly a triumph of personality. "Violet Grey is what actors call a“ fat" part. The Salvation Army lassie, a quaint, subdued, almost pathetic figure, thrown in the midst of the contrasting hurly-burly and theatrical exaggerations of a typical musical farce, appeals irresistibly to the spectator’s sympathy. She touches deftly the sentiments, for in her modest way she is a bit of real life, a touch of human nature, in surroundings where the men and women of every-day life are complete strangers.

But Violet Grey is not a röle to be acted. It is not, in the strictest sense, a dramatic character at all, merely a picture from life, set forth without comment and without exposition. One sees all that there is to see, the instant Violet Grey appears on the scene; he recognizes at once her reality and her fidelity to nature, and he falls a victim to her charm without further ado. The actress cast for this part must in a sense live it. She must, as Mr. Lederer said, “look the part; ” she must suggest at a glance, modesty, demureness, quaintness, spirituality, and idealism. Coquetry, any notion of archness or frivolity, must be rigorously banished. There her responsibility practically ends, for folded hands, cast-down eyes, and the ability to sing a little do the rest.

Success in such a part as Violet Grey affords not the slightest test of artistic ability, and Edna May's artistic future is still a matter of doubt. She has appeared in only one operetta aside from “The Belle," —“ An American Beauty," brought out in London by an American company in April, 1900.

The remarkable feature of Miss May’s career was the furore that she created in London, where, due as much to her personal popularity as to any other one thing, “ The Belle of New York" ran for eighty-five weeks. It was wonderful, when one thinks of it, that sweet simplicity could do so much. Of course, when Miss May returned to this country in January, 1900, she had many pleasant remarks to make about the Londoners. Speaking of the opening night, she said:

“I played the part during the long run in the United States, so I was very used to it, and there was nothing out of the ordinary about the first night in London, until the sensation caused by their tremendous applause came to me. There is nothing like it, nothing that approaches it. It is quite the most delicious sensation on earth. I don’t expect ever to feel it again quite as I did that night. It’s like the first kiss, you know, or the first anything. After that it’s only repetition.

“Success was particularly sweet to me at that time, but it was something of a shock. I wasn’t looking for such a reception. They not only applauded, they shouted and deluged me with flowers. The next day I found myself talked about everywhere. I had done nothing but be natural, and do my best, yet they praised my talent. They kept my rooms flower-laden; they sent me rich gifts, and what was more, — oh, a great deal more,— they held out to me the hand of friendship, men and women alike, and made me one of them.