Chapter XI: Appendix: The First English Actresses, and the Change in the Actor’s Social Status (1)

The actress, as an established element in the theatre, is comparatively modern. The English stage had been a flourishing public institution for something more than a century when, in the first years of the Restoration, veritable women began regularly to replace those lads and beardless men who in Shakespeare’s day enacted stage heroines.

There are, to be sure, fleeting glimpses of women acting in England much earlier in the seventeenth century, while boys were regularly playing women’s parts. King James spent immense sums on his court revels, and his Queen, Anne, was both actress and manager--no doubt with much professional coaching. In 1625--the first year of the reign of Charles I--there was a merry round of plays acted at Hampton Court at Christmas time. “The demoiselles,”--who, as Doran surmises, were probably the maids of honor--“mean to present a French pastoral wherein the Queen is a principal actress.”[221] Thus the first actresses in England were amateurs, and among them were two Queens of the Realm! Henrietta Maria was, of course, French, and it was due to this fact, and to her liking for the stage, that actresses from France came to London[222]--doubtless the first professional actresses to appear there. The fashion--or rather the obvious advantages--of the acting of women’s parts by women appears to have commended itself much earlier on the continent than in England. “They have now,” contemptuously says Prynne,--the author of _Histrio-Mastix_ (1633) and the theatre’s best hater,--“their female players in Italy and other foreign parts.”[223]

The French actresses who came to act at Blackfriars may have pleased their countrywoman, the Queen. But they seem to have had, on the whole, a rather hard time. “Glad am I to say,” wrote Thomas Brand, another stout Puritan, “they were hissed, hooted, and pippin-pelted from the stage, so that I do not think they will soon be ready to try the same again.” Prynne was furiously abusive. He calls the actresses by a variety of names, of which “monsters” is one of the mildest.

But to some extent, the idea had taken root, and during the ten years before the closing of the theatres, in 1642, women occasionally replaced the boys and men who passed for heroines. In _The Court Beggar_, a play enacted in London in 1632, one of the characters, Lady Strangelove, says: “The boy’s a pretty actor, and his mother can play her part. The women now are in great request.” These early actresses were, however, not regularly employed, their names have not come down to us, and it is correct to say that professional English actresses appear for the first time, when, in 1660, the theatres were reopened, after their eighteen years’ suppression by the Puritans.[224]

There were two companies, Killigrew’s and D’Avenant’s. Each had its regularly enrolled actresses, whose names are recorded. Among them were Mrs. Corey, Mrs. Hughes, Mrs. Knipp, the Marshall sisters, Mrs. Davenport, Mrs. Saunderson, and, a little later, Nell Gwynn.

No one, however, took the trouble to make certain for posterity the name of the first of them to appear. We know that she played Desdemona, in an adaptation of _Othello_, called _The Moor of Venice_; that she was of Killigrew’s company; that the date was December 8, 1660, and the place the Red Bull; and that Thomas Jordan wrote for the occasion “A Prologue, to introduce the first woman that came to act on our stage.” But who the actress was is not known. Two names are the likeliest: Margaret Hughes, and Anne Marshall. Mrs. Hughes was “more remarkable for her beauty than for her great ability.” “A mighty pretty woman,” says Pepys of her, “and seems, but is not, modest.” She was married later to Prince Rupert, and brought him to the verge of bankruptcy. Anne Marshall, the other chief claimant, was a competent actress of the day, remarkable chiefly for being the daughter of a prominent Presbyterian clergyman.

At first the old practice of giving the women’s parts to boys threatened to survive, alongside the new custom of employing women. For a few years both played the heroines, but the race of actors who could portray women was fast dying out and, owing to a changed public opinion, was not replenished.[225] When, in 1663, the King granted patents to Killigrew and D’Avenant, those managers were virtually instructed to employ none but women to represent female characters: “Whereas”--the royal patents read,--“the women’s parts in plays have hitherto been acted by men in the habits of women, at which some have taken offense, we do give leave that for the time to come all women’s parts be acted by women.” In a year or so the “boy-actresses” had virtually disappeared from the stage.

Our old friend Pepys had the pleasure,--undoubtedly a keen one for him,--of seeing some of the earliest appearances of actresses in London. We have it from him that in 1661 he saw women acting in Beaumont and Fletcher’s _Beggar’s Bush_. If he was present at the Red Bull on the eighth of the previous December, when the first English actress walked on, he strangely omits to say so.

Something should be said of the changing conditions in the actress’ calling since 1660. As we all know, the complete social recognition of actors and actresses is distinctly modern. Of course, in the nature of things, they were always the objects of acclamation and often admiration; but they were long in attaining real public respect, strange as that seems to an actor-worshiping (or especially actress-worshiping) age.

There was plenty of historical background for the old state of things. The ancients loved their theatre, but their actors did not, as a rule, rank high in public estimation. According to Cicero, at one time any Roman who turned actor was disincorporated and unnaturalized by order of the Censors; and Livy states that players were not thought good enough for common soldiers. The early Christians maintained the same attitude, probably with better reason, for in their day the drama fell into a parlous state. The two councils of Arles excommunicated all players, and in A. D. 424 another church council declared that “the testimony of people of ill-reputation, of players, and others of such scandalous employments, shall not be admitted against any person.”

With the rise of the wonderful Elizabethan drama in England the actors attained a measure of respect, mixed, however, with a certain condescension.[226] Later in the seventeenth century, when actresses began regularly to appear on the English stage, the actor’s standing was at least no better. William Mountford, a respectable actor, one of the most accomplished of his day, was killed in a street brawl by Lord Mohun and Captain Hill, two dissolute “gentlemen,” who were attempting to abduct the renowned actress, Anne Bracegirdle. Mohun was tried in 1692 by the House of Lords, and though he was flagrantly guilty, he was acquitted, 69 to 14. During the hearing one nobleman could not understand why so great a fuss should be made about so small a matter and said that “after all, the fellow was but a player, and players are rogues.” And of the period immediately following, John Fyvie says: “In the earlier part of the eighteenth century anybody might insult an actor with impunity; and if an actor were thrashed by a person of quality neither he nor anybody else would have dreamed that he had any right to retaliate.”[227]

Dr. Johnson’s comments have been quoted as typifying the attitude which even in Garrick’s day, a man of intellect could maintain toward the player’s profession,[228] though it is to be noted that not even in the Doctor’s distinguished circle were his prejudices generally shared. And Johnson himself, it will be remembered, felt honored to receive a visit from the celebrated Mrs. Siddons. “At all periods of his life, Johnson used to talk contemptuously of players,” says Boswell, “for which, perhaps there was formerly too much reason from the licentious and dissolute manners of those engaged in that profession. It is but justice to add,” Boswell goes on, “that in our own time such a change has taken place, that there is no longer room for such an unfavorable distinction.”

A century had, indeed, seen a change. In 1660, when actresses invaded the theatre, there was a long road to travel before the actor could be thought of as he is today,--innocent of social stigma until proved guilty. It was then the other way about,--he belonged to an outcast class, until he proved himself deserving of exceptional consideration.

Naturally, when women came to join the actors’ ranks, they shared more than to the full the social disadvantages attaching to the calling, simply because they _were_ women; for, as is well known, it is a queer twist of the ingrained chivalric attitude toward the sex that when a woman ranges herself with men of a doubtful class she is accorded a double portion of the disfavor in which that class may be held. In any event, the first century of English actresses saw them, for the most part, doing their best to justify the stigma. Anne Bracegirdle was notorious in her day, not for lapses from virtue, but actually for leading a measurably pure life. So singular, in her day, was the actress who was not the mistress of some one her social superior that virtuous “Bracey” was hailed as a phenomenon. A number of lords and gentlemen once met round a festive board and pledged a large purse to be offered to her as a tribute to her rare chastity.[229] Her sister actresses, and many who were to follow in the eighteenth century, were, in many instances, openly the mistresses of lords and other “fine gentlemen.” It seems superfluous to say of the average nineteenth century actress that her standards of life were, in general, far different from those of her earlier sisters; and the fact is of much importance in its direct bearing on one of the most interesting changes that have occurred in the realm of the theatre: the improvement in the social status of the actor and actress.

For another cause of that change we may look to the general dramatic awakening that characterized the latter part of the nineteenth century,--the vitalization of the theatre as the home of an art worthy the study and appreciation of the best minds. In 1660 and for many years later the English-speaking theatre, at least, was not _that_.

Until fairly recent times the acting class was recruited mainly from those who were either born to it or who drifted into it more or less as a matter of chance. Here, too, the nineteenth century saw a change. Partly as a cause and partly as a result of the improved social standing of the actor, ambitious men and women of good family in increasing numbers adopted the stage as a profession.

Again, the latter-day recognition of the stage found a significant expression, in England, in the knighting of a succession of distinguished actors and dramatists: Henry Irving, Squire Bancroft, Arthur Wing Pinero, John Hare, Charles Wyndham, George Alexander, Herbert Beerbohm Tree, Johnston Forbes-Robertson. In their own country, and, as one may as well admit, in America too, the knighting of actors could not fail further to dignify the calling.

All of these causes have acted and interacted, through the years, to help bring the actor and the actress to a point of public interest and esteem that is reached by few of the world’s “authentic benefactors.” Most important of all, however, as a cause of their progress to something very like adulation has been the increasingly strong position of the theatre as the artistic meeting ground of all the people. The drama of 1660 was the amusement of a restricted class; now it is the universal art. Its skilled exponents, affected by a strong general interest, cannot fail to receive,--unless they willfully reject it--the respect and admiration of their contemporaries.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Of the large number of books that deal, exclusively or incidentally, with theatrical biography, the following may be named as especially readable, and as offering further reading in the field covered by the present volume:

Anderson, Mary, _A Few Memories_, New York, 1896.

Archer, William, _The Theatrical World_, 5 vols. London, 1893–97.

Baker, Henry Barton, _Our Old Actors_, 2 vols. London, 1878.

Bernhardt, Sarah, _Memories of My Life_, New York, 1907.

Clapp, Henry Austin, _Reminiscences of a Dramatic Critic_, Boston,
1902.

Clapp, John Bouvé, and Edwin Francis Edgett, _Players of the
Present_, 3 parts. (In Dunlap Society Publications.) New York,
1899–1901.

Cook, Dutton, _Hours with the Players_, 2 vols. London, 1881.

Doran, John, _Annals of the English Stage_, London, 1888. 3 vols.
(Edited and revised by Robert W. Lowe.)

Eaton, Walter Prichard, _At the New Theatre and Others_, Boston, 1910.

Faxon, Frederick W. (Editor), _The Dramatic Index_; (An Annual Index
of Books and Magazine Articles.) Boston, 1908–

Fyvie, John, _Comedy Queens of the Georgian Era_, New York, 1907.

Fyvie, John, _Tragedy Queens of the Georgian Era_, New York, 1909.

Huret, Jules, _Sarah Bernhardt_ (Translated by G. A. Raper), London,
1899.

Huret, Jules, _Loges et Coulisses_, Paris, 1901.

Mapes, Victor, _Duse and the French_, New York, 1899. (In Dunlap
Society Publications.)

Matthews, Brander, & Laurence Hutton (Editors), _Actors and Actresses
of Great Britain and the United States_, 5 vols. New York, 1886.

McKay, Frederic E., & Charles E. L. Wingate (Editors), _Famous
American Actors of To-day_, 2 vols. New York, 1896.

McLeod, Addison, _Plays and Players in Modern Italy_, London, 1912.

Modjeska, Helena, _Memories and Impressions_, New York, 1910.

Robins, Edward, _Echoes of the Playhouse_, New York, 1895.

Robins, Edward, _Twelve Great Actresses_, New York, 1900.

Ruhl, Arthur, _Second Nights_, New York, 1914.

Scott, Clement, _Ellen Terry_, New York, 1900.

Shaw, George Bernard, _Dramatic Opinions and Essays_, 2 vols. New
York, 1906.

Simpson, Harold, & Mrs. Charles Braun, _A Century of Famous
Actresses_, London, 1913.

Strang, Lewis C., _Famous Actresses of the Day in America_, 2 series.
Boston, 1899, 1902.

Strang, Lewis C., _Players and Plays of the Last Quarter Century_, 2
vols. Boston, 1903.

Symons, Arthur, _Plays, Acting and Music_, London, 1903.

Terry, Ellen, _The Story of My Life_, New York, 1908.

Walkley, A. B., _Playhouse Impressions_, London, 1892.

Winter, William, _Other Days_, New York, 1908.

Winter, William, _Shakespeare on the Stage_, 2 series. New York,
1911, 1915.

Winter, William, _The Wallet of Time_, 2 vols. New York, 1913.

INDEX

Abbey, Henry E., 26, 29 note, 246, 247.

Abington, Frances, iii.

Adams, Annie, 325.

Adams, Maude, 324–46;
parentage and birth, 325;
career as a child actress, 325–29;
goes to New York, 329;
with E. H. Sothern, 330;
_A Midnight Bell_, 331;
in Charles Frohman’s company, 331–2;
John Drew’s leading woman, 332–34;
becomes a “star,” 334;
_The Little Minister_, 335;
_Romeo and Juliet_, 336;
_L’Aiglon_, 337;
_Peter Pan_, 338–9;
_What Every Woman Knows_, 339–40;
_Chanticler_, 340–41;
_The Maid of Orleans_, 341–2;
Miss Adams and Barrie, 342;
her personality, 343–6;
her _repertoire_, 333 (note), 335 (note); 347.

Agar, Marie, 13.

Aguglia, Mimi, 366.

_Aiglon, L’_, 337.

Aldrich, Mildred, 271 (note).

Alexander, George, 376.

Alexandra, Queen, 49.

Allen, Viola, 362 (note).

Allgood, Sara, 366.

Alma-Tadema, Laurence, 87, 248.

_Ambigu_, The, 129–30.

Anderson, Mary, 230–264;
parentage, 230;
birth, 231;
girlhood and schooling, 232–35;
decides on a stage career, 236;
first appearance, 237;
early trials, 239–40;
acts in eastern cities, 242;
goes abroad, 244;
her _repertoire_, 245 (note);
acts in London, 246–7;
her friendships, 248;
a London ovation, 252;
distaste for the theater, 256–7;
last appearance on the stage, 268–9;
marriage, 260;
her acting, 261–2;
her personality, 262–3; 269 (note).

Angelo, Mlle., 133.

Anglin, Margaret, 354–6.

Antoine, André, 153.

Archer, William, 157, 184 (note), 202, 221 and note, 283.

Arliss, George, 286.

Arnold, Matthew, 45 (note).

Arthur, Julia, 362 (note).

Asquith, Herbert, 318.

Augier, Emile, 139, 150.

Baker, George Pierce, 265.

Bancroft, Squire B., 109, 111, 376.

Barrett, Lawrence, 208, 242, 247.

Barrie, James M., 334, 342.

Barron Charles, 308.

Barry, Elizabeth, iii.

Barrymore, Ethel, 350–53.

Barrymore, Maurice, 286, 350.

Bartet, Jeanne, 149, 180 (note).

Bates, Blanche, 362 (note).

Beauplan, Victor, 136.

Beauregard, General, 240.

_Becky Sharp_, 285.

Belasco, David, 327–8.

Bennett, Arnold, 166, 168.

Bernhardt, Maurice, 13 note, 32 note, 34.

Bernhardt Sarah, iv, 3–51;
birth, 5;
schooling, 6–7;
at the _Conservatoire_, 8–9;
her motto, 9;
_début_ at the _Comédie Française_, 10;
at the _Odéon_, 11–16;
hospital services during War of 1870, 13;
returns to the _Comédie_, 16;
eccentricities, 19;
her sculpture, 19, 22;
acts in London, 20–23;
leaves the _Comédie_, 24;
first American appearance, 28;
marriage, 31;
world-wide tours, 32;
becomes a manager, 33;
the “Marie Colombier” and Mme. Noirmont scandals, 34;
the _Memoirs_, 35;
her art, 36–41, 44–46;
_fêtes_ in her honor, 41, 43;
Sarah the worker, 4, 42;
professor at the _Conservatoire_, 43;
admitted to Legion of Honor, 43;
loses her leg, 47;
_repertoire_, 12, 18, 28, 33 (notes); 160, 171, 175, 183,
184 (note), 186–92, 199, 201, 224, 226, 244.

Berton, Pierre, 133 (note), 151.

Bertrand, Eugène, 151.

Besnard, Paul, 169.

Betterton, Mrs., iii.

Bingham, Amelia, 362 (note).

Black, William, 248.

Bloodgood, Clara, 362 (note).

Bonnetain, Paul, 34 (note).

Booth, Edwin, 77 and note, 208, 234, 240, 242, 247, 347.

Boucicault, Dion, 242.

Bracegirdle, Anne, iii, 373, 375 and note.

Brady, William A., 359.

Brand, Thomas, 369.

Brandes, George, 87.

Brougham, John, 208.

Browning, Robert, 248.

Burke, Billie, 351.

Burne-Jones, Edward, 87.

Byron, Arthur, 205 (note).

Byron, Oliver Doud, 205.

Campbell, Mrs. Patrick, 366.

_Captain Brassbound’s Conversion_, 121–122.

Carew, James, 123 (note).

Carter, Mrs. Leslie, 362 (note).

Carré, Albert, 138.

Caruso, Enrico, 123.

Cayvan, Georgia, 89 (note).

_Chanticler_, 340.

Charpentier, Gustave, 41.

Chartran, T., 169.

Chartres, Mme. Vivanti, 194 (note).

Chaumont, Céline, 160.

Cheatham, Kitty, 214.

Checchi, Signor, 175.

Chetwood, Wm., 371 (note).

Chilly, M., 11, 12.

Chlapowski, Count Karol Bozenta, 67, 69, 72, 75, 76, 79, 82–3 (note),
90 (note).

Coghlan, Charles, 109, 111.

Coghlan, Rose, 362 (note).

Coleman, Mrs. Edw., 370 (note).

Collins, Wilkie, 248.

Colombier, Marie, 34.

_Comédie Française_, profit-sharing system, 20 (note);
see Bernhardt and Réjane.

Conquest, Ida, 362 (note).

Cook, Dutton, 96–7, 99.

Coppée, François, 41, 42.

Coquelin, B.-C., 23, 41, 193.

Corbin, John, 45, 314.

Corey, Mrs., 370.

Cowl, Jane, 362, 365.

Crabtree, Lotta, 228.

Craig, Ailsa, 106.

Craig, Gordon, 106, 121.

Crehan, Kate, 205 and note.

Crews, Laura Hope, 359, 360–1.

Crosman, Henrietta, 362.

Crosnier, Mme., 153.

Cushman, Charlotte, iv, 235, 239 (note), 347.

Daly, Arnold, 350.

Daly, Augustin, 207, 208, 214–15 and note, 219–20, 222–27.

Daly’s Theatre, London, 223.

Damala, M., 31.

d’Annunzio, Gabriel, 197, 276.

d’Aurevilly, B., 150.

D’Avenant, William, 370 and note, 371.

Davenport, Mrs., 370.

Davenport, E. L., 270.

Davenport, Fanny, 208.

Davey, Thomas, 267.

David, Félicien, 132.

Davies, Acton, 328, 336 (note).

Dean, Frederic, 344 (note).

de Banville, Theodore, 36.

Defère, M., 150.

de Lesseps, F., 20 (note).

de Navarro, Antonio F., 260.

de Reszke, Eduard, 89.

de Reszke, Jan, 89.

de Saint-Victor, Paul, 17.

Deschanel, Paul, 49.

Desclée, Aimée Olympe, 137 and note, 222 (note).

Devrient, Fritz, 58.

Dillingham, C. B., 313.

_Doll’s House, A_, 280.

Doran, Dr. John, 368.

Dornis, Jean, 174 (note).

Doro, Marie, 351.

Doucet, C., 9 (note).

Dow, Ada (Mrs. Currier), 301, 302 and note, 306.

Drew, John, 206, 214, 226, 332–4, 350.

Drew, Mrs. John, 204 (note), 206.

Drew-Barrymore, Georgie, 350 (note).

Dumas, Alexandre, _fils_, 175–7, 185, 188–9.

Dumas, Alexandre, _père_, 13 (note).

Dunn, Emma, 362, 365.

Duquesnel, M., 11, 16, 142, 143.

Duse, Eleonora, iv, 123, 171–202;
birth, 171;
family, 172;
childhood, 173–4;
first important appearances, 174, 175;
marriage, 175;
Duse and Dumas, 176;
foreign appearances, 177–8;
acts in America, 178, 183;
her art, 179–81, 199–202;
acts in London, 183;
acts in Paris, 184–93;
the Dumas memorial performance, 188–9;
her personality, 194–6;
the d’Annuzio alliance, 197;
her _repertoire_, 182 (note), 197 (note); 265 (note).

Eaton, Walter Prichard, 280, 352, 355, 361.

Eberle, Robert, 344 (note).

Echegaray, Jose, 276.

Edison, Thomas A., 29.

Elliott, Gertrude, 366.

Elliott, Maxine, 362 (note).

Emmet, J. K., 270, 326.

Easier, Jane, 129.

Eugénie, former Empress, 49.

Faversham, William, 336, 350.

Fenwick, Irene, 363, 365.

Ferguson, Elsie, 302, 364.

Field, Eugene, 87.

Filon, Augustin, 156 and note, 159.

Fiske, Harrison Grey, 269, 289–90, 292.

Fiske, Mrs. Minnie Maddern, 181 (note); 265–298;
speaks at Harvard, 265;
her significance, 266;
parentage, 267;
birth, 268;
career as a child actress, 268–71;
marriage and retirement, 272;
Mrs. Fiske and the modern spirit, 273;
her _repertoire_, 270 (note), 274 (note);
her art, 275–87;
encouragement of native-made drama, 288–9;
Mr. Fiske’s share, 289–90;
the theatrical syndicate, 290–1;
as a stage director, 291;
as a playwright, 292;
outside interests, 293;
her personality, 294–6; 357.

Forbes, Mary, 366.

Forbes-Robertson, J., 255, 376.

Frohman, Charles, 313, 331–2, 350.

Frohman, Daniel, 330.

Fulda, Ludwig, 276.

Fyvie, John, 373 and (note).

Garden, Mary, 279.

Genée, Adeline, 123.

George, Grace, 359–60.

Gilbert, Mrs. James, 214, 226.

Gilbert, W. S., 248, 255, 262.

Gilder, Richard Watson, 87.

Gillette, William, 350.

Gladstone, Wm. E., 248.

Glendinning, Ernest, 350.

Gosse, Edmund, 248.

Got, François, 20, 27, 187.

Grant, General U. S., 87, 241.

Griffin, Dr. Hamilton, 232, 236, 237.

Griffith, Frank Carlos, 269 (note), 271 (note), 293 (note),
295 (note), 296 (note).

Grille-d’Egout, Mlle., 154.

Gwynn, Nell, 370.

Hackett, James K., 336, 350.

Hale, Philip, 49.

Halévy, L., 155, 187.

Harancourt, Edmond, 42.

Hare, John, 111, 376.

Harned, Virginia, 330, 362 (note).

_Hedda Gabler_, 279, 280.

Hedman, Martha, 356, 362, 365.

Herne, James A., 327–8.

Hichens, Robert, 260.

_High Road, The_, 289.

Hill, Barton, 80 and note.

Hollis Street Theatre, Boston, 225 (note), 309.

Hood, General, 240.

Howells, William Dean, 284, 314 (note).

Hughes, Margaret, 370.

Hugo, Victor, 14 and note, 249.

Huneker, James, 357.

Huret, Jules, 7 (note), 128 (note), 143, 153, 168, 169, 192.

Hyde, James Hazen, 165.

Ibsen, Henrik, 273, 276–7, 279–81, 357.

Illington, Margaret, 362, 363.

Ingersoll, Robert G., 306–7, and note.

Irish national theatre, 103.

Irving, Henry, 105, 112–3, 115, 117, 118, 120, 215 (note), 247, 351,
376.

Irving, Isabel, 214, 362 (note).

Irwin, May, 362 (note).

James, Henry, 21.

Janauschek, Francesca, v, 347.

Janis, Elsie, 49 (note).

Jefferson, Joseph, 242, 270.

Johnson, Samuel, 373–4 and note.

Jones, Henry Arthur, 273.

Jordan, Dorothy, iii.

Jordan, Thomas, 370, 371 (note).

Jourdain, Frantz, 132.

Kalich, Bertha, 356, 366.

Kean, Charles, 95, 97, 101.

Keane, Doris, 362, 365.

Keene, Laura, 270.

Kelly, Charles; see Wardell.

Kelm, Joseph, 132.

Kemble, Frances Ann, iv, 256.

Kester, Paul, 292.

Killigrew, Thomas, 370, 371.

Kiskadden, James, 325.

Knipp, Mrs., 370.

_L’Aiglon_, 337.

Laurent, Marie, 129.

Lavedan, Henri, 41.

_Leah Kleschna_, 287.

Legault, Mlle., 135.

_Legend of Leonora, The_, 343.

Legouvé, Ernest, 136.

Lemaître, Frédérick, 129.

Lemaître, Jules, 36, 41, 50, 155, 187.

Levick, Milnes, 237.

Lewis, James, 214, 226.

_Little Minister, The_, 334–5.

Long, John Luther, 288, 298.

Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, 87–88, 242.

Lowell, James Russell, 87, 248, 249, 255.

Lyceum Theatre, 113–114.

Lynch, Arthur, 210, 218 (note).

Lytton, Lord, 248.

Macauley’s Theatre, Louisville, 207.

McCarthy, Justin H., 87.

McCarthy, Lillah, 356, 366.

McCracken, Elizabeth, 321, 323.

McCullough, John, 79–80, 81 (note), 208, 236, 247, 270.

MacKaye, Percy, 124 (note).

McLellan, C. M. S., 215 (note), 288, 308.

Macready, William C., 98 (note).

McWade, Robert, 301.

_Madame Sans-Gêne_, 155–6, 158, 160, 162 and note.

Maeterlinck, Maurice, 277.

Magnus, Baron, 27.

_Maid of Orleans, The_, 341.

Manchester Players, The, 103.

_Man of Destiny, The_, 122.

Mannering, Mary, 362 (note).

Mansfield, Richard, 225 (note).

Mantell, Robert, 350.

Mapes, Victor, 189 (note).

Marlowe, Julia, 89 (note), 299–323;
birth, 299, 305 (note);
girlhood, 300;
first appearances, 300;
course of training, 302–4;
returns to stage, 305;
early uncertainties, 306–8;
first triumph, 309;
marriage to Robert Taber, 311;
_repertoire_, 311 (note);
the Julia Marlowe Taber period, 311–3;
the period of the commercial plays, 313–6;
the “Sothern and Marlowe” period, 316–21;
acts in London, 318;
at the New Theatre, 319;
her personality, 321–3; 347.

Marshall, Anne, 370.

Martin, Frederick Roy, 164.

_Mary of Magdala_, 287.

Matthison, Edith Wynne, 356, 358–9.

Maurice, Paul, 15 (note).

Maxwell, Perriton, 330 (notes).

Mayer, Gaston, 168 (note).

Meilhac, Henri, 137, 153, 170.

Mendès, Catulle, 38 (note), 42, 187.

Mendès, Catulle, Mme. Jane, 47.

Meunier, Dauphin, 126, 140, 154, 155.

_Mid-Channel_, 352.

Miles, Robt. E. J., 301, 305.

Miller, Henry, 350.

Mitchell, Langdon, 285.

Modjeska, Helena, 52–92;
birth, 52;
childhood, 52–58;
marriage, 59;
first appearance, 60;
life as a strolling player, 61;
joins company at Lemberg, 63;
in stock company at Czerniowce, 63;
in company of Cracow theatre, 64–69;
goes to Imperial Theatre at Warsaw, 70;
goes to America, 76;
the farming experiment in California, 78;
first appearance in America, 81;
_repertoire_, 82 (note);
her personality, 83;
her art 85–87;
her friendships, 87;
her address at the Chicago Exposition, 89;
testimonial of 1905, 90;
death, 92; 347.

Modrzejewski, Gustave, 56, 57, 59, 61, 64.

Mohun, Lord, 373.

Morris, Clara, 89 (note), 242, 362 (note).

Mountford, William, 373.

Naptal-Arnault, Mme., 128 (note).

Nazimova, Alla, 356–8.

Neilson, Adelaide, v, 208, 219.

Neilson, Julia, 94 (note).

Neilson-Terry, Phyllis, 94 (note), 366.

Newman, Cardinal, 248.

New Theatre, The, 124 (note), 316, 319, 359.

_New York Idea, The_, 283–284 (note).

Noirmont, Mme., 35.

Offenbach, J., 145.

Oldfield, Anne, iii.

_Olivia_, 111–2.

O’Neil, Nance, 358, 362.

O’Neill, James, 292.

Orleneff, Paul, 356.

Owen, William, 308.

Paderewski, Ignace J., 88, 90, 91 (note).

Page, Adèle, 129.

Parker, H. T., 279, 280.

Parker, Louis N., 334.

Peabody, Josephine Preston, 124 (note).

Pepys, Samuel, 370, 371.

Perrin, Emile, 17, 19, 22, 24, 27.

_Peter Pan_, 338–9.

_Pillars of Society_, 279, 282.

Pinero, A. W., 273, 276, 376.

Poincairé, Raymond, 43.

Porel, D. P., 152, 166.

Power, Tyrone, 286, 287.

Prince of Wales’s Theatre, 109.

Princess’s Theatre, 95.

Provost, Jean, 9 (note).

Prynne, William, 369.

Rachel (Rachel Felix), iv, 45 (note), 150.

Raymond, John T., 208.

Reade, Charles, 104, 108, 116.

Reed, Florence, 363, 365.

Regnier, F. J., 9 (note), 133, 134, 135 and note, 136, 138, 140, 144,
145–9, 150, 151, 161.

Rehan, Ada, iii, 203–229;
birth, 204;
brought to America, 204;
her family, 205;
first appearance, 205;
in various companies, 206–209;
joins Augustin Daly, 209;
her _repertoire_, 208 (note), 217 (note);
her personality, 210–13;
the Daly Company, 214;
her acting, 217–21, 226;
first plays in London, 221;
becomes a “star,” 224;
her last appearances, 227–8; 347.

Reicher, Hedwig, 356, 366.

Réjane, Gabrielle, 126–170;
birth, 128;
childhood, 128–131;
at school, 131–133;
enters the _Conservatoire_, 133;
first public appearance, 138;
joins the _Vaudeville_, 142;
_repertoire_, 143–4 (note);
correspondence with Regnier, 145–9;
informal appearances, 150;
joins the Variétés, 151;
a typical first night, 152;
_Madame Sans-Gêne_, 165;
her personality, 126, 156, 168–70;
her art, 158–160;
appearances outside France, 160–1, 167;
the American tours, 161;
the Havana fiasco, 163–4;
the Hyde dinner, 165;
marriage, 166;
the _Théâtre Réjane_, 166–7; 291.

Richepin, Jean, 34 (note), 35.

Richman, Charles, 228.

Riley, Josephine, 301.

Ristori, Adelaide, iv, 200, 244.

Robinson, Mary, iv.

Robson, Eleanor, 362 (note).

Rochefort, Henri, 187.

_Rosemary_, 334.

_Rosmersholm_, 281.

Rossi, Cesare, 175.

Rostand, Edmond, 3, 4 (note), 41, 42, 43, 49, 189.

Ruhl, Arthur, 357.

Russell, Annie, 362.

Russell, Hattie (Harriet Crehan), 205 (note).

_Salvation Nell_, 279, 288.

Salvini, Tommaso, 183, 200.

Samson, Joseph, 9 (note).

Sand, George, 13.

Sarcey, Francisque, 10 (note), 15, 17, 25, 36, 137, 140, 144, 150,
154, 155, 177, 187, 190, 192.

Sardou, Victorien, 25 (note), 41, 150, 155, 162, 223.

Saunderson, Mrs., 370.

Scott, Clement, 94, 106, 111, 112, 114, 221, 222 (note).

Scott, Sir Walter, 93.

Sembrich, Marcella, 91 (note).

Shannon, Effie, 362 (note).

Shaw, George Bernard, iii, 38, 113–4, 115, 117, 120, 121, 199,
225–7, 273.

Shaw, Mary, 308, 362 (note).

Sheldon, Edward, 288.

Sherman, General Wm. T., 87, 241.

Siddons, Sarah, iv, 374.

Sienkiewicz, Henryk, 75, 81.

Simon, Charles, 133.

Skinner, Otis, 226, 227, 350.

Sothern, E. A., 103, 118.

Sothern, E. H., 265, 316–20, 330, 350.

Stahl, Rose, 362.

Starr, Frances, 362, 365.

Stedman, E. C., 91, 92.

Stevens, Emily, 362, 364.

Stinson, Fred, 308, 312.

Stoddard, Lorimer, 284.

Sudermann, Hermann, 276.

Symons, Arthur, 159, 194, 318.

Synge, John M., iii.

Taber, Robert, 308, 311–2, 313 (note).

Tarasiewicz, Michael, 92.

Taylor, Laurette, 362, 366.

Tellegen, Lou, 350.

Tempest, Marie, 366.

Tennyson, Lord, 87, 223, 248, 256.

Terry, Beatrice, 94 (note).

Terry, Benjamin, 93, 94, 95, 96.

Terry, Charles, 94 and note.

Terry, Ellen, iii, 93–125;
parentage, 93;
family, 94–5;
birth, 94;
early training, 96, 99–100;
first appearance, 96–8;
a strolling player, 101;
_Atar-Gull_, 102;
at Bristol, 102–3;
with the elder Sothern, 103;
marriage and retirement, 103–4;
returns to stage, 104;
acts first with Irving, 105;
second retirement, 106–8;
returns to stage, 109;
with S. B. Bancroft, 109–11;
first plays Portia, 109;
with John Hare, 111–12;
_Olivia_, 111;
becomes leading woman at the Lyceum, 112;
the Irving _régime_, 113;
her personality, 114, 118, 121;
Bernard Shaw’s estimate, 113, 115, 117, 120;
her art, 116;
leaves Irving’s company, 121;
the Terry Jubilee, 122;
a lecturer on Shakespeare, 123–4;
_repertoire_, 119 (note); 247.

Terry, Florence, 94, 95.

Terry, Fred, 94 and note.

Terry, George, 94 (note).

Terry, Kate, 94, 95, 101, 102.

Terry, Marion, 94, 95.

Terry, Minnie, 94 (note).

_Tess of the D’Urbervilles_, 284.

Theuriet, André, 41, 42.

Thierry, Edward, 135.

Thomas, Ambroise, 136.

Thompson, Vance, 157.

Tilden, Samuel J., 244 (note).

Tree, H. Beerbohm, 318, 376.

Vandenhoff, George, 236.

Varrey, Charles, 20 (note).

Verbruggen, Mrs., iii.

Victoria, Queen, of Spain, 49.

von Bülow, Hans, 87.

Walkley, A. B., 318, 319 (note).

Wallack, Lester, 355.

Walsh, Blanche, 362 (note).

Ward, Mrs. Humphrey, 248.

Wardell, Charles, 106, 123 (note).

Ware, Helen, 362, 365.

Warfield, David, 350.

Watterson, Henry, 87, 232 (note), 238 (note), 244 (note).

Watts, George Frederick, 87, 103–4, 248.

Western, Lucille, 270.

White, LeGrand, 272 (note).

Wilde, Oscar, 157, 273.

Wills, W. G., 112.

Wilson, Francis, 265.

Winter, William, 3, 26, 35, 37, 38, 44, 46, 85, 90 (note), 123, 165,
211, 212, 220 and note, 228, 238 (note), 242, 247, 251,
261, 313 (note), 315, 335, 338 and note, 340, 347.

Woffington, Margaret, iii.

Worthing, Frank, 360.

Wyndham, Charles, 376.

Young, Mary, 214 (note).

Zimmern, Helen, 196 (note).

FOOTNOTES

[1] See Appendix: _The First English Actresses_, and _The Change in the Actor’s Social Status_.

[2] For the lives of actresses of earlier days the reader is referred to the bibliography at the end of the volume. The outstanding names are: Elizabeth Barry, 1658–1713; Anne Bracegirdle, 1663–1748; Anne Oldfield, 1683–1730; Catherine Clive, 1711–1785; Hannah Pritchard, 1711–1768; Susannah Maria Cibber, 1714–1766; Margaret Woffington, 1720–1760; Mary Porter--d. 1765; George Anne Bellamy, 1731–1788; Frances Abington, 1737–1815; Sarah Siddons, 1755–1831; Mary Robinson (“Perdita”) 1758–1800; Dorothy Jordan, 1762–1816; Frances Anne Kemble, 1809–1893; Charlotte Cushman, 1816–1876; Helena Faucit, 1817–1898; Rachel Felix, 1821–1858; Adelaide Ristori, 1822–1906; Francesca Janauscheck, 1830–1904; Adelaide Neilson, 1846 (?)-1880.

Some of the names in this list are, of course, among the greatest in theatrical history. In Anne Bracegirdle and Elizabeth Barry the Restoration rejoiced in two actresses of the first order. “Bracey” was the Ada Rehan of her day, a blithe creature of comedy who seems to have possessed the temperament and the charms of the typical born actress. Cibber called her “the _Cara_, the Darling of the Theatre.” She excelled in the comedies of Congreve, but she was versatile, and played also in tragedy. Elizabeth Barry was England’s first great tragic actress. She was of the august, severe, _tragedienne_ type that was later exemplified in Siddons and Ristori, and that has nowadays, with the decline of the poetic drama, virtually disappeared. With these women, and with a number of others,--some of whom, like Mrs. Betterton and Mrs. Verbruggen, were skilled actresses,--the standard was surprisingly early set high.

Anne Oldfield charmed the England of Addison and Steele with a versatility and brilliance of acting that has never been surpassed. She acted with great majesty and fire in the tragedies of the day,--such as _Cato_ and _The Distressed Mother_,--while in comedy she “played with the enthusiasm of a child.” There is much in the sunny amiability, the volatile, zestful personality and the wide-ranged equipment of “Nance” Oldfield to remind one of that modern actress,--Ellen Terry,--who often herself impersonated Mistress Oldfield.

One thinks again of Terry in reading of Margaret Woffington. “The Woffington” was a beauty, a hard worker, an adept in comedy, and only less successful in tragedy. She played captivatingly the rakish Sir Harry Wildair in Farquhar’s _The Constant Couple_; she was notably good in parts as diverse as Sylvia in _The Recruiting Officer_ and Cordelia in _Lear_; but the parallel to Ellen Terry appears when we read of her lovely Portia and of her Rosalind (a part that Terry was born to play, but somehow never tried). “Peg” Woffington was one of that long line of geniuses with whom Ireland has continued to enrich the English theatre, from her day and Sheridan’s down to that of Ada Rehan, Bernard Shaw and Synge.

Frances Abington, a person of temper and caprice, but a true daughter of comedy nevertheless; Dora Jordan, who was really two Dora Jordans,--“one the whimsical, hoydenish performer, all laughter, or the delineator of graceful sentiment,--the other, only seen off the stage, a shrewd little woman, of kind heart and exquisite sensibility”; Mary Robinson, the “Perdita” of him who was to be George IV of England, and a graceful, appealing actress of the tenderly comic and of such characters as Viola and Rosalind--the Julia Marlowe of the eighteenth century; such are hints of a few of those women who have continued the line of gifted actresses of comedy and sentiment down from the days of Bracegirdle and Oldfield.

For commanding figures in tragedy, for the Duses and Bernhardts of earlier days, we must look, as a rule, outside of England and America. There is, to be sure, always Sarah Siddons, a majestic figure, a veritable Queen of Tragedy, who made her characters--such as Lady Macbeth and Queen Katherine--awe-inspiring even to those who acted with her. Her niece, Frances Ann Kemble, was prevented from being a truly great actress only by a dislike for the stage. As it was, with her Juliet, her Belvidera in _Venice Preserved_, and her Julia in _The Hunchback_ she takes her place in that succession of tragic actresses which, with the change in theatrical fashions, has now ceased, and which has had its best examplars on the Continent rather than in England.

In Charlotte Cushman, America produced a tragic actress of commanding dignity and power. She was “a noble interpreter of the noble minds of the past,” a stately and vigorous woman, unique as Meg Merrilies, and a powerful and poetic interpreter of Shakespeare’s tragic women.

The daughter of a Jew, Rachel Felix was a Parisian by birth, and thus far she was an earlier Bernhardt. In the thrilling intensity of her acting and in the capricious imperiousness of her own nature, she again suggests Madame Sarah. She introduced a measure of naturalness of speech and spontaneity of action into the French theatre, and here her influence was like that of Duse.

The rise of Adelaide Ristori spelled the decline of the great Rachel. In her earnestness, in her choice of plays, in the quiet dignity of her life and nature, Ristori is recalled by that later great Italian, Duse. And just as Duse invaded Paris and rivaled the reigning queen of the stage there, so (only more successfully) did Ristori when she replaced Rachel in French esteem. Ristori’s parts, however, suggest rather Bernhardt, though in general all four actresses--Rachel, Ristori, Bernhardt and Duse--have worked in the same _metier_. Ristori’s great parts were Medea, Francesca, Myrrha, Lady Macbeth, Phédre, Marie Stuart and Queen Elizabeth.

Janauscheck, “the last of the actresses of the ‘grand style,’” born in Prague and for years a successful _tragedienne_ in Germany, anticipated Modjeska by her adoption of America and the English tongue. She too was an heroic woman, who impressed her generation by the intensity and sincerity of her acting, her wonderful voice, and the dignity she lent her profession. Her best parts were in _Bleak House_, _Brünnhilde_, _Medea_ and _Marie Stuart_.

Adelaide Neilson, a womanly and gracious personality, an ideal Juliet, and a Shakspearean actress who as Viola, Imogen and Rosalind foreshadowed and combined many of the merits of Modjeska, Rehan and Marlowe, died in the ripeness of her youth and ability.

[3] _The Wallet of Time._

[4] “All these things that I have known only in the telling--all these journeys, these changing skies, these adoring hearts, these flowers, these jewels, these embroideries, these millions, these lions, these one hundred and twelve rôles, these eighty trunks, this glory, these caprices, these cheering crowds hauling her carriage, this crocodile drinking champagne--all these things, I say, astonish, dazzle, delight, and move me less than something else which I have often seen: this--

“A brougham stops at a door; a woman, enveloped in furs, jumps out, threads her way with a smile through the crowd attracted by the jingling of the bell on the harness, and mounts a winding stair; plunges into a room crowded with flowers and heated like a hothouse, throws her little beribboned handbag with its apparently inexhaustible contents into one corner, and her bewinged hat into another, takes off her furs and instantaneously dwindles into a mere scabbard of white silk; rushes on to a dimly lighted stage and immediately puts life into a whole crowd of listless, yawning, loitering folk; dashes forward and back, inspiring every one with her own feverish energy; goes into the prompter’s box, arranges her scenes, points out the proper gesture and intonation, rises up in wrath and insists on everything being done over again; shouts with fury; sits down, smiles, drinks tea and begins to rehearse her own part; draws tears from case-hardened actors who thrust their enraptured heads out of the wings to watch her; returns to her room, where the decorators are waiting, demolishes their plans and reconstructs them; collapses, wipes her brow with a lace handkerchief and thinks of fainting; suddenly rushes up to the fifth floor, invades the premises of the astonished _costumier_, rummages in the wardrobes, makes up a costume, pleats and adjusts it; returns to her room and teaches the _figurantes_ how to dress their hair; has a piece read to her while she makes bouquets; listens to hundreds of letters, weeps over some tale of misfortune, and opens the inexhaustible little chinking handbag; confers with an English _perruquier_; returns to the stage to superintend the lighting of a scene, objurgates the lamps and reduces the electrician to a state of temporary insanity; sees a super who has blundered the day before, remembers it, and overwhelms him with her indignation; returns to her room for dinner; sits down to table, splendidly pale with fatigue; ruminates her plans; eats with peals of Bohemian laughter; has no time to finish; dresses for the evening performance while the manager reports from the other side of a curtain; acts with all her heart and soul; discusses business between the acts; remains at the theatre after the performance, and makes arrangements until three o’clock in the morning; does not make up her mind to go until she sees her staff respectfully endeavoring to keep awake; gets into her carriage; huddles herself into her furs and anticipates the delights of lying down and resting at last; bursts into laughing on remembering that some one is waiting to read her a five-act play; returns home, listens to the piece, becomes excited, weeps, accepts it, finds she cannot sleep, and takes advantage of the opportunity to study a part! This is the Sarah I have always known. I never made the acquaintance of the Sarah with the coffin and the alligators. The only Sarah I know is the one who works. She is the greater.”--Edmond Rostand, in _Sarah Bernhardt_, by Jules Huret.

[5] The correct date and place, according to the official record of the _Conservatoire_. The year has sometimes been given 1845. Some accounts have given Holland, others Havre, as the birthplace. Sarah herself says Paris.

[6] At Neuilly her aunt Rosine came one day to see her. “I insisted that I wanted to go away at once. In a gentle, tender, caressing voice, but without any real affection, she said all kinds of pretty things. She then went away. I could see nothing but the dark, black hole which remained there immutable behind me, and in a fit of despair I rushed out to my aunt who was just getting into her carriage. After that I knew nothing more. I had managed to escape from my poor nurse and had fallen down on the pavement. I had broken my arm in two places and injured my knee cap. I was two years recovering.” _Memoirs._

[7] _Memoirs._

[8] “One day, when we heard that all the schools in France, except ours, had been given bonbons on the occasion of the baptism of the Prince Imperial, I proposed to several other girls that we should run away, and I undertook to manage it. Being on good terms with the sister in charge of the gate, I went into her lodge and pretended to have a hole in my dress under the armpit. To let her examine the hole I raised my arms toward the cord communicating with the gate, and whilst she was looking at my dress I pulled the cord, my accomplices rushed out, and I followed them. Our entire stock of provisions, ammunition, and sinews of war consisted of a few clothes, three pieces of soap in a bag, and the sum of seven francs fifty centimes in money. This was to take us to the other end of the world! A search had to be made for us, and as the good sisters could hardly undertake it, the police were set on our track. There was not much difficulty in finding us, as you may imagine. I was sent home in disgrace. On another occasion, I had climbed on to the wall separating the convent from the cemetery. A grand funeral was in progress and the Bishop of Versailles was delivering an address. I immediately began to gesticulate, shout and sing at the top of my voice so as to interrupt the ceremony. You can imagine the scene--a child of twelve sitting astride a wall, and a bishop interrupted in the midst of a funeral oration! The scandal was great.”--Huret.

[9] “Consequently I entered the _Conservatoire_. The next question was, in which class was I to study? Beauvallet said: ‘She will be a _tragedienne_.’ Regnier maintained: ‘She will be a _comédienne_,’ and Provost put them in agreement by declaring: ‘She will be both.’ I joined Provost’s class.”--Huret.

[10] One for tragedy in 1861, and one for comedy in 1862. She never won a first prize.

[11] M. Regnier and M. Doucet among them. Both had been her teachers, as had M. Provost and M. Samson, the latter of whom had taught Rachel.

[12] She says she had chosen this device at the age of nine, “after a formidable jump over a ditch which no one could jump, and which my young cousin had dared me to attempt. I had hurt my face, broken my wrist and was in pain all over. While I was being carried home I exclaimed furiously: ‘Yes, I would do it again, _quand-même_, if any one dared me again. And I will always do what I want to all my life.’ In the evening of that day, my aunt, who was grieved to see me in such pain, asked me what would give me any pleasure. My poor little body was all bandaged, but I jumped with joy at this, and quite consoled I whispered in a coaxing way: ‘I should like to have some writing paper with a motto of my own.’ My mother asked me rather slyly what my motto was. I did not answer for a minute, and then, as they were all waiting quietly, I uttered such a furious ‘_Quand-même!_’ that my Aunt Faure started back muttering: ‘What a terrible child!’”

[13] The great critic Sarcey’s comments in _L’Opinion Nationale_ were read to her by her mother: “Mlle. Bernhardt, who made her début yesterday in the rôle of Iphigénie, is a tall, pretty girl with a slender figure and a very pleasing expression. The upper part of her face is remarkably beautiful. She holds herself well, and her enunciation is perfectly clear. This is all that can be said for her at present.” “The man is an idiot,” said her mother, “you were charming.”--_Memoirs._

[14] Characteristically, she brought her engagement at the _Gymnase_ to a sudden close by quietly going to Spain the day after the first performance of a play in which she disliked her part.

[15] Thin she was, and thin she remained. She once said, in after years: “As for me, if I should cease to be thin, what would become of some of the Paris journalists? Scarcely a day but they have some _mot_ about me personally. Really I am almost the _raison d’être_ of some of these small wits!”

[16] She played at the _Odéon_: Albine in _Britannicus_; Sylvia in _Le Jeu de l’Amour et du Hasard_; Zacharie in _Athalie_; the Baroness in _Le Marquis de Villemer_; Mariette in _François le Champi_; Hortense in _Le Testament de César Girodôt_; Anna Damby in _Kean_ (Dumas’ _Sullivan_); in _La Loterie du Mariage_; Zanetto in _Le Passant_ by Coppée; in _L’Autre_ by George Sand; Armande in _Les Femmes Savantes_; Cordelia in _King Lear_; in _Le Bâtard_; _L’Affranchi_; _Jean-Marie_, by Andre Theuriet; _Les Arrêts_ by de Boissières, _Le Legs_; _Le Drame de la Rue de la Paix_; _Fais ce que dois_, by Coppée; _La Baronne_ by Edmond and Foussier; _Mlle. Aïsse_; and the Queen of Spain in _Ruy Blas_ by Victor Hugo.

[17] On the first night of Dumas’ play, the distinguished author was the victim of a remarkable demonstration by the audience. He sat in a box with “Oceana.” The novelist’s alliance with this woman was evidently unpopular, for a great shout was sent up and many in the audience were heard to call for the woman’s removal. In the midst of the uproar the play, already long delayed, was begun. The woman finally left the house. The _Figaro_ next day said: “Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt appeared wearing an eccentric costume, which increased the tumult, but her rich voice--that astonishing voice of hers--appealed to the public, and she charmed them like a little Orpheus.”

[18] Now about five. Although she was a mother Sarah had not yet married.

[19] Mme. Bernhardt tells a rather pretty story of the great novelist: “One day when the rehearsal was over an hour earlier than usual, I was waiting, my forehead pressed against the window pane, for the arrival of Mme. Guérard, who was coming to fetch me. I was gazing idly at the footpath opposite, which is bounded by the Luxembourg railings. Victor Hugo had just crossed the road and was about to walk in. An old woman attracted his attention. She had just put a heavy bundle of linen down on the ground and was wiping her forehead, on which were great beads of perspiration. In spite of the cold, her toothless mouth was half open, as she was panting and her eyes had an expression of distressing anxiety, as she looked at the wide road she had to cross, with carriages and omnibuses passing each other. Victor Hugo approached her, and after a short conversation, he drew a piece of money from his pocket, handed it to her, then taking off his hat he confided it to her and, with a quick movement and a laughing face, lifted the bundle to his shoulder and crossed the road, followed by the bewildered woman. The next day I told the poet that I had witnessed his delicate, good deed. ‘Oh,’ said Paul Maurice, ‘every day that dawns is a day of kindness for him!’”

[20] It was small enough, to be sure. Her demand was for only 15,000 francs ($3,000) a year.

[21] It was on the occasion of the first night of this play that she says she reverted to a trick of her childhood. Once when she had been fed something disagreeable, Sarah deliberately drank off a bottle of ink in the hope that she would die and vex her mother. Now when Perrin refused her a month’s needed holiday and forced her to play Zaïre in midsummer: “I was determined to faint, determined to vomit blood, determined to die, in order to enrage Perrin. Although the rôle was easy, it required two or three shrieks which might have provoked the vomiting of blood that frequently troubled me at that time. I uttered my shrieks with real rage and suffering, hoping to break something. But my surprise was great when the curtain fell at the end of the piece, and I got up quickly to answer to the call and salute the public without languor, without fainting, ready to recommence the piece. I had commenced the performance in such a state of weakness that it was easy to predict that I should not finish the first act without fainting. And I marked this performance with a little white stone--for that day I learned that my vital force was at the service of my intellect.” This is a significant passage. It helps to explain the wonder of Bernhardt’s unexampled vitality in the face of hard work and a frail physique.

[22] She remained at the _Comédie_ this time eight years, 1872–1880. Her first appearances were: Gabrielle in _Mlle. de Belle-Isle_, Junie in _Britannicus_, 1872; Chérubin in _Le Mariage de Figaro_, Léonora in _Dalila_, Mrs. Douglas in _L’Absent_, Marthe in _Chez l’Avocat_, _Andromaque_, Aricie in _Phèdre_, 1873; _Peril en la Demeure_, Berthe de Savigny in _Le Sphinx_, _La Belle Paule_, _Zaïre_, Phèdre in _Phèdre_, 1874; Berthe in _La Fille de Roland_, _Gabrielle_, 1875; Mrs. Clarkson in _L’Etrangère_, Posthumia in _Rome Vaincue_, 1876; Doña Sol in _Hernani_, 1877; Desdemona in Aicard’s _Othello_ (once only), Alcmène in _Amphitrion_, 1878; Monime in _Mithridate_, 1879; Clorinde in _L’Aventurtière_, 1880.

[23] For many years her tomb in Père Lachaise has been awaiting her.

[24] She published an account of these aerial experiences: _Dans les nuages; Impressions d’une Chaise_.

[25] The Associates or _Sociétaires of the Comédie Française_ are sharers in the profits, a custom that has come down from the days of Molière. A member of the company is at first a _pensionnaire_, and serves upon a salary only. After proving his worth he is made _Sociétaire_. He does not at once receive a full share of the profits, however, but must progress from an eighth, fourth and half share to the full rank of _Sociétaire_ _à parte entière_. Bernhardt had been made _Sociétaire_ in 1875. During the year 1879 the share received by the leading actors and actresses of the _Comédie_ varied from 55,000 to 70,000 francs, besides their salaries. Sarah’s share was 62,000 francs.

[26] Perrin and his fellow directors were not the only ones who felt the strain imposed by Sarah’s presence on earth. She herself tells of the dying words of Charles Varrey: “I am content to die because I shall hear no more of Sarah Bernhardt and the great Français.” The latter was de Lesseps, then much in the public eye.

[27] In this statement, for once, M. Sarcey justified Sardou’s tribute, inspired, seven years later, by Sarcey’s criticism of _La Tosca_: “Sarcey, who knows nothing about painting, music, architecture or sculpture, and to whom Nature has harshly denied all sense of the artistic.”

[28] She was to have $1,000 per night, half the receipts over $3,000, $200 a week for hotel bills, and a special car.

[29] Huret.

[30] She played on this tour: _La Dame aux Camélias_ (sixty-five times); _Frou-Frou_ (forty-one times); _Adrienne Lecouvreur_ (seventeen); _Hernani_ (fourteen); _Le Sphinx_ (seven); _Phèdre_ (six); _La Princesse Georges_ (three); and _L’Etrangère_ (three),--one hundred and fifty-six performances in all, with average receipts of $2,820. She acted in half a hundred cities of the East, Middle West and South, including New York, Boston, Montreal, Ottawa, Springfield, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Chicago, St. Louis, New Orleans, Cincinnati, Memphis, Louisville, Cleveland and Pittsburgh.

[31] In Chicago another bishop attacked Bernhardt and her plays. Mr. Abbey, her manager, thereupon sent him this letter: “Whenever I visit your city I am accustomed to spend four hundred dollars in advertising. But as you have done the advertising for me, I send you $200 for your poor.”

[32] Huret.

[33] A dispatch from Moscow represents the feeling there: “Sarah Bernhardt is extremely hoarse and cannot appear this evening. General consternation prevails.” She finally did act in Berlin, in 1902.

[34] Sarah Bernhardt’s son Maurice was born in 1865 and was, therefore, seventeen at the time of his mother’s marriage.

[35] The Argentinos, in enthusiastic but ill-advised generosity, presented Sarah with an estate of thirteen thousand acres. As if Sarah could feel at home so far from Paris!

[36] Mme. Bernhardt’s more important productions, since she became a manager in her own right, have been as follows: _Fédora_, 1882; _Nana Sahib_, 1883; _Macbeth_, _Théodora_, 1884; _Marion Delorme_, 1885; _Hamlet_ (Ophelia), _Le Maître des Forges_, 1886; _La Tosca_, 1887; _Francillon_, 1888; _Lena_, 1889; _Jeanne d’Arc_, _Cléopâtre_, 1890; _Pauline Blanchard_, _La Dame de Chalant_, 1891; _Les Rois_, 1893; _Izeïl_, _Gismonda_, 1894; _Magda_, _La Princesse Lointaine_, 1895; _Lorenzaccio_, 1896; _Spiritisme_, _La Samaritaine_, _Les Mauvais Bergers_, 1897; _La Ville Morte_, _Lysiane_, _Médée_, 1898; _Hamlet_, 1899; _L’Aiglon_, 1900; _Francesca da Rimini_, 1902; _Andromache_, 1903; _La Sorcière_, 1904; _Tisbe_, _Angelo_, 1905; _La Vierge d’Avila_, 1906; _Les Bouffons_, 1907; _La Belle au Bois Dormant_, _La Courtisane de Corinthe_, 1908; _Le Proces de Jeanne d’Arc_, 1909; _La Femme X_, _Judas_, _Le Coeur d’Homme_ (written by herself), _La Beffa_, 1910; _La Reine Élisabeth_, _Une Nuit de Noel_, 1912; _Jeanne Doré_, 1913.