[ Olga Brandon, Australian actress. ] Corrected Typed prompt copy of first act of unpublished translation of 'La Tosca. A Drama in Four Acts by Victorien Sardou.'

[1] + 32pp., 4to. Bound with brass clasps in grey paper wraps. On aged paper, in worn binding. A 'Duplicate Carbon Copy', with the stamp of Miss Dickens's Type Writing Office, 3, Tavistock Street, Strand. The first of the play's four acts. Text typed on rectos only, with stage directions in pencil on facing versos, and with numerous emendations (presumably by Brandon) in pencil throughout, including the deleting of a number of passages. Facing the first page is a pencil diagram of the stage setting. In an excellent essay titled 'Olga Brandon: Girl with "midnight eyes"', Bob Davenport writes: 'In April [1895] she began a two-month tour of Victorien Sardou’s play La Tosca, in which she starred with a company of her own. Camberwell was the closest it came to the West End. An Era critic saw it in Greenwich and noted that 'Miss Olga Brandon labours under the serious disadvantage of being open to comparison with two gifted predecessors in the same exacting rôle [Fanny Bernard-Beere had been praised in the part in London in 1890, and Sarah Bernhardt’s production had visited some of the same venues as Brandon’s in 1894], but she emerges from the ordeal not only without discredit but with honour.' In May, while the production was at the Theatre Royal, Cardiff, the Western Mail interviewed her behind the scenes and noted that 'Miss Brandon possesses a very attractive personnel [sic]. Her brown hair curls naturally round a remarkably clever, intelligent face; her eyes and mouth indicate great sympathetic, emotional power; her smile is bright and winning, though when in repose her expression is grave and serious. Her voice is full and low-toned and sweet, ‘that most excellent thing in woman,’ and I could fancy its accents thrilling with passionate emotion or scorn … There is also much determination in her face, and as we chatted I noticed her keen attention to the details which go to make a whole. Her eyes as we conversed took in all the, to me, mysterious arrangement of scenes and accessories.' Later that month, at the Opera House in Leicester, she slipped while preparing to throw herself off castle ramparts at the end of the play and fell some eight feet, knocking herself out – though she soon recovered – and suffering severe bruising and shock. Subsequent reviews suggest that the accident didn’t affect later performances.'