Chapter C: M. S. McLellan, who nowadays writes “books” for operettas, (and

who wrote _Leah Kleschna_ for Mrs. Fiske) in 1888 was writing for the New York _Press_ what passed for amusing comment on theatrical matters. His chatter about Mr. Daly and Miss Rehan does a little toward characterizing both: “At the stage door you find a bulldog. Mr. Daly secluded himself in a padded room at the end of a secret passage. He comes down to the dog kennel to freeze all reporters. Editors are invited up to the green room. Henry Irving is supposed to be the only man who ever penetrated to the padded chamber, and he tells the story that while he was there Mr. Daly opened a bottle of claret and smiled. The claret part of the story is generally credited, but unless Mr. Irving is degenerating in his choice of words we think there was some mistake about the smile.

“But if any of us ever had doubts concerning the healthfully hilarious influence exerted by Mr. Daly’s benignity upon a great comedy company we have only to glance at Miss Rehan and be converted. We have had that baby pout of hers in opera and in Shakespeare, that imperious, uplifted nose of hers in Jenny O’Jones and Helena, and as the snows of various cycles descend on the heads of her worshipers the musical purr of the Rehan still sings the third sweet song of seven. And when she smiles, the light of pearls and rubies creeps out and illumines the nooks that the calcium cannot penetrate.

“So why should not Mr. Daly live in a padded room and manage the electric buttons that blush all this youth and divine color across a befogged community? He is entitled to padded rooms, bulldogs and cold hands. If he does nothing for the next forty years but keep the crack of doom out of Rehan’s purr he will have earned the right to be made Sheriff of New York County.”

[141] The list of parts played by Miss Rehan before she began the acquirement of her more famous repertoire cannot, and need not, be made complete here. Some of them were: Isabelle in _Wives_; Cherry Monogram in _The Way We Live_; Donna Antonina in _The Royal Middy_; Psyche in _Cinderella at School_; Muttra in _Xanina_; Selina in _Needles and Pins_; Phronie in _Dollars and Sense_; Thisbe in _Quits_; Tekla in _The Passing Regiment_; Tony and Jenny O’Jones in _Red Letter Nights_; Barbee in _Our English Friend_; Aphra in _The Wooden Spoon_; Floss in _Seven-Twenty-Eight_; Nancy Brusher in _Nancy and Company_, and Etna in _The Great Unknown_.

The more important parts played by Miss Rehan during her twenty years with Mr. Daly were: Baroness Vera in _The Last Word_; Tilburina in _The Critic_; Oriana in _The Inconstant_; Julia in _The Hunchback_; Lady Teazle in _The School for Scandal_; Miss Hayden in _The Relapse_; Pierrot; The Princess in _Love’s Labours Lost_; Valentine Osprey in _The Railroad of Love_; Mrs. Ford in _The Merry Wives of Windsor_; Peggy Thrift in _The Country Girl_; Odette in _Odette_; Rose in _The Prayer_; Annis Austin in _Love on Crutches_; Doris in _An International Match_; Thisbe in _A Night Off_; Dina in _A Priceless Paragon_; Mrs. Jassamine in _A Test Case_; Hippolyta in _She Would and She Would Not_; Helena in _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_; Katherine in _The Taming of the Shrew_; Rosalind in _As You Like It_; Viola in _Twelfth Night_; Beatrice in _Much Ado About Nothing_; Letitia Hardy in _The Belle’s Stratagem_; Sylvia (and Captain Pinch) in _The Recruiting Officer_; Xantippe in _La Femme de Socrate_; Kate Verity in _The Squire_.

[142] “Ada Rehan is of a superior race of women. She can be enormously interesting simply standing looking out of a window, her back to the audience, immobile, but with a ‘calmness’ that sends off vibrations that stir the pulses very curiously, and make her always the magnet, the center. She pauses, but it is the pause of a fine balance of strong feelings. She is all alive; she whirls round and comes into the action with a bold ringing stroke that has been adjudged to perfection. She can stride--not like a man, for she is always a fine woman--but like the daughter of Fingal, the sister of Ossian. She can bang a door like a chord of martial music. She can precipitate herself headlong into a room, and seizing her opponent or her lover, for she is equal to all occasions, at the critical wavering movement, sweep in with a wrestler’s power and lift him metaphorically helpless off his feet. Yet in all these displays Rehan is never violent in a narrow way, or streaky, or hard, or wiry.... The beauty of repose is delightful in her, the calm musing meditation, and the deep harmonious passion of devotion; so also is the quick salient swerve of emotion wherein the soul is suddenly shaken to its depths by love, by fear, by admiration ... we find life and flesh and blood throughout, and everywhere the fire of the soul that animates it.” Arthur Lynch, in _Human Documents_, London, 1896.

[143] “Playing Katherine brought me much satisfaction, but a very bad reputation for temper,” she once said. “I have often been amused at seeing the effect that a first performance of the ‘Shrew’ in a strange place produced on the employers of the stage. They shunned me as something actually to be feared. During a long run I have heard it said that I hated my Petruchio. I looked upon this as a compliment.”

[144] For an enlightening exposition of Miss Rehan’s acting in her various rôles see his _The Wallet of Time_, Vol. II.

[145] On a later visit of the Daly company to London, Mr. Archer chewed and swallowed these words, thus: “‘Crude and bouncing.’ Ye gods! this of the swan-like Valentine Osprey of _The Railroad of Love_ and the divine Katherine of _The Taming of the Shrew_! True, it is six years since these lines were written, and Miss Rehan’s art may--nay, must--have ripened in the interval. I try to persuade myself that I may not have been so far wrong after all, but it won’t do.... There must have been beauties in the performance of six years ago to which I was inexcusably blind.”

[146] In spite of Clement Scott’s praise: “Acting of this kind, so beneath the surface, so distinctly opposed to the commonplace, and so eloquent with finest touches of woman’s nature, we do not believe has been seen since the death of Aimée Desclée.”

[147] October 30, 1891.

[148] She began her first “starring” tour at the Hollis Street Theatre, Boston, (on September 24, 1894) where many interesting events have taken place. Here Julia Marlowe, six years before, had won her first really genuine recognition. The Hollis Street Theatre was first opened in 1885, and is still often referred to as the best-equipped theatre (on the stage) in the country. It was built in the site of the old Hollis Street Church, where John Pierpont, grandfather of John Pierpont Morgan, and Thomas Starr King preached. The walls of the church building of 1808 were incorporated in the theatre. The opening attraction was _The Mikado_. In the course of its run of twenty weeks Richard Mansfield appeared as Ko-Ko.

[149] Mary Anderson was the child of a devout Catholic mother, her brief period of schooling was in Catholic schools, her beloved Pater Anton was of course a strong influence for her adherence to that faith, and, throughout her public life and since, her devotion to her church has been constant and earnest. One of her friends (Henry Watterson) expressed the conviction that to her religion she owed much of the fortitude that carried her through the ordeals and failures of her career.

[150] “The convent was a large, Italian-looking building, surrounded by gardens and shut in by high, prison-like walls. That first night in the long dormitory, with its rows of white beds and their little occupants, some as sad as myself, my grief seemed more than I could bear. The moon made a track of light across the floor. A strain of soft music came in at the open window; it was only an accordion, played by someone sitting outside the convent wall; but how sweet and soothing it was! The simple little melody seemed to say: ‘See what a friend I can be! I am music sent from heaven to cheer and console. Love me, and I will soothe and calm your heart when it is sad, and double all your joys.’ It kept saying such sweet things to me that soon I fell asleep, and dreamed I was at home again. From that moment I felt music a panacea for all my childhood’s sorrows.”--Mary Anderson, _A Few Memories_.

[151] While a mere girl, Mary learned to ride a horse. Twice a year a visit was made to an Indiana farm. She learned to ride spirited horses without saddle or bridle. Riding was always her favorite amusement. Long afterwards, in London, a riding-master once said to her: “Why, Miss Handerson, you ’ave missed your vocation. What a hexcellent circus hactor you would ’ave made! I’d like to see the ’orse as could throw you now.”

[152] One who was present told William Winter “that notwithstanding the conditions inseparable from youth and inexperience, it was a performance of extraordinary fire, feeling and promise. Its paramount beauty, he said, was its vocalism. Miss Anderson’s voice, indeed, was always her predominant charm. Certain tones of it--so thrilling, so full of wild passion and inexpressible melancholy--went straight to the heart, and brought tears into the eyes.”--_Other Days._

Throughout her career all observers noted the richness and expressiveness of Mary Anderson’s voice, especially its thrilling lower tones. After she retired from the stage, indeed, she paid considerable attention to singing, and once sang in public, in a small way, for charity.

[153] Henry Watterson, the journalist of Louisville and one of Miss Anderson’s earliest friends and advisers, tells this story to indicate the self-reliance that was the cue to her success: “On one occasion, after a long discussion, the counselor whom she had sought, quite worn out with his failure to convince her, exclaimed with some irritation: ‘Don’t you know that I am double your age, and have gone over all this ground, and can’t be mistaken?’ ‘No,’ she coolly replied, ‘I don’t know anything I have not gone over myself.’ She considered everything that was relevant, consulted everybody who could give information, and decided for herself.”

[154] It was during this engagement, that the young actress played for the first time the character of Meg Merriles, thus, perhaps unwisely, challenging comparison with Charlotte Cushman, who had made the part peculiarly her own.

[155] It does Mary Anderson nothing but credit to point out that at the time she was first claiming the attention of the East she had not yet grown to be quite the Mary Anderson the world remembers. She was already beautiful, but she was as yet a comparatively friendless, inexperienced young girl, ignorant of much of the art of the theatre and with undeveloped taste in dress; yet self-confident and perhaps just a bit spoiled. The manager of the theatre at which she played her first engagement in New York (in November, 1877) long afterward remembered its details. On the opening night “there was about three hundred dollars in money and a good paper house. Never was a Pauline attired in such execrable taste. The ladies of the audience could not conceal their smiles; but in the cottage scene Miss Anderson’s fine voice and her beauty captured everybody. Other plays followed. As Parthenia she looked a picture in her simple costume, and her manner of saying ‘I go to cleanse the cup’ enchanted the audience. As Bianca in _Fazio_ she wore modern costumes, and but for her youthful beauty would have been absurd.

“On the first night, after the performance, I started home for supper, when it occurred to me that perhaps Miss Anderson would like something to eat after her hard work. So I called at Dr. Griffin’s rooms in West Twenty-eighth Street and found the future Queen of Tragedy eating a cold pork chop as she sat on a trunk. The whole party accepted my invitation and we went to the nearest restaurant. On our way we passed a candy store and Mary looked so longingly at the window that I asked whether she would like some candy. ‘Oh, yes!’ she cried, and jumped up and down on the pavement with pleasure. She selected a pound of molasses cream drops and commenced to eat them at once. The supper began with oysters on the half shell. To see Mary Anderson eat oysters and candy alternately was terrible; but a handsome girl may do anything unrebuked.

“The papers were very kind to Miss Anderson during her first engagement. She made a success of youth and loveliness; but the public did not rush in to see her.

“After a while, Henry Watterson, who had known her in Louisville, came to town and took an interest in her. He brought with him ex-Governor Tilden, who was taken behind the scenes to be introduced to the new star. He whispered to me, ‘What a remarkably handsome girl! No actress, but how very handsome!’”

[156] Her repertoire at this time (1879) was: Bianca in _Fazio_; Juliet in _Romeo and Juliet_; Lady Macbeth (the sleep-walking scene); Parthenia in _Ingomar_; Berthe in _The Daughter of Roland_; Julia in _The Hunchback_; Pauline in _The Lady of Lyons_; Meg Merriles in _Guy Mannering_; Evadne in _Evadne_; Duchess of Torrenucra in _Faint Heart Never Won Fair Lady_; Ion in _Ion_; soon afterwards she added the Countess in Knowles’ _Love_, Galatea in _Pygmalion and Galatea_, and Desdemona in _Othello_ (once only).

[157] Miss Anderson said that during this search she considered W. S. Gilbert’s _Brantingham Hall_, but, as the chief character was not adapted to her, she declined it. Gilbert amusingly asked her if this was because she found anything gross in it. “For,” he said, “I hear that you hate gross things so much that you can hardly be induced to take your share of the gross receipts.”

[158] On the occasion of the one hundred and fiftieth performance of _The Winter’s Tale_ at the Lyceum, Miss Anderson was presented with a large laurel wreath from which were suspended a number of streamers in blue and gold, and bearing the names--three hundred and ninety-two in number--of all the members of the company and staff of the theatre, even to the call boy. In the center of the wreath, and supported by chains, was a brass tablet with the inscriptions: “_En Souvenir_ of the One-hundred and Fiftieth performance of _The Winter’s Tale_, presented to Miss Mary Anderson by the members and employees, Lyceum Theatre, London, March 2, 1888,” and on the other side:

“‘The hostess of the meeting, pray you, bid the unknown friends to
us welcome....
Come, quench your blushes, and present yourself that which you are,
mistress o’ the feast.’...”

_The Winter’s Tale_, Act IV, Scene 4.

[159] _A Few Memories_--1896.

[160] It would be an impertinence to doubt the good faith of Mary Anderson’s own statement as to the immediate cause of her retirement in March, 1889. It is nevertheless interesting to observe that at the time, and later, the newspapers freely discussed circumstances which do not enter into her account. One theory was that adverse critical comment, which was found in many reviews of her acting, disturbed her seriously, and preyed more and more upon her mind until she lost faith in her own power, and underwent in consequence a somewhat severe nervous prostration. There was even a wide-spread report that she became mildly insane,--which was promptly discredited and which was of course merely a piece of sensationalism. Particular mention is made of one Louisville critic who, during Miss Anderson’s early years was one of her friends and advisers, but who, when she returned at the height of her career, sincerely believed her spoiled and a much less fine actress than she had given promise of becoming. He therefore wrote a frank and fearless analysis of her acting, in which he found much to dispraise. It is impossible to tell with accuracy how much truth there is in this story. Miss Anderson herself says that it was never her habit to read newspaper criticisms of her work, except that someone kept for her those that might prove helpful and that these were used as possible hints when she began work another season.

[161] William Winter.

[162] Duse furnished the only previous instance.

[163] At Little Rock, Arkansas.

[164] At different times, and as the exigencies of engagements permitted, in Montreal, New Orleans, Louisville, the Ursuline Convent in St. Louis, a French school in Cincinnati, and other private schools.

[165] “A person less given to reminiscence than Mrs. Fiske I cannot imagine. Upon revisiting in her professional tours the scenes of her childhood days one would naturally expect a great actress to remark, ‘Here is where I made my first appearance,’ or ‘Here I played the Widow Melnotte when I was only twelve’; but I do not recall that I ever heard Mrs. Fiske make the slightest allusion to persons or places, with one or two exceptions. She was appearing at Robinson’s Opera House, Cincinnati. As she entered the dressing room on the opening night she glanced about, and then at me, as if to determine whether or not it was safe to intrust me with the information. She then remarked that when a child she was brought into that room to see Mary Anderson in reference to playing some child character in one of Miss Anderson’s plays,--_Ingomar_, as she thought.”--Griffith, _Mrs. Fiske_.

[166] The parts she played in this childhood period included: Duke of York in _Richard III_; Willie Lee in _Hunted Down_; Prince Arthur in _King John_, and others of Shakespeare’s children; Damon’s son in _Damon and Pythias_; Little Fritz in _Fritz_; Paul in _The Octoroon_; Franko in _Guy Mannering_; Sybil in _The Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing_; Mary Morgan in _Ten Nights in a Barroom_; the child in _Across the Continent_; the boy in _Bosom Friends_; Alfred in _Divorce_; Lucy Fairweather in _The Streets of New York_; the gamin and Peachblossom in _Under the Gaslight_; Marjorie in _The Rough Diamond_; the child in _The Little Rebel_; Adrienne in _Monsieur Alphonse_; Georgie in _Frou-Frou_; Heinrich and Minna in _Rip van Winkle_; Eva in _Uncle Tom’s Cabin_; the child in _The Chicago Fire_; Hilda in _Karl and Hilda_; Ralph Rackstraw in _Pinafore_; Clip in _A Messenger from Javis Section_; the sun god in _The Ice Witch_; children and fairies in _Aladdin_, _The White Fawn_ and other spectacular pieces; François in _Richelieu_; and Louise in _The Two Orphans_.

[167] “The extraordinary thing about Mrs. Fiske’s early career is that she should have been even _permitted_ to play the range of characters that she did.... Frequently a young woman who is physically well developed easily passes for a much older person, and the eye is satisfied even if the ear be not, but little Minnie _was_ little, and held her audiences then by her genius, as she subsequently has continued to do.”--Griffith.

[168] It is of this period that Mildred Aldrich wrote, in her article on Mrs. Fiske in _Famous American Actors of To-day_: “It was twilight on a very cold day when I knocked at her room at Hotel Vendome. A clear voice bade me enter and in a moment I had forgotten my cold drive. It was a voice which I can never forget, and which even as I write of it comes to my ear with a strange delicious insistence. As the door closed behind me there rose from the depths of a large chair, and stood between me and the dim light from the window a slender, childish figure, in a close-fitting, dark gown. The fading light, the dark dress, threw into greater relief the pale face with its small features and deep eyes, above and around which, like a halo, was a wealth of curling red hair. I had been told that she was young; but I was not prepared for any such unique personality as hers, and I still remember the sensation of the surprise she was to me as a most delightful experience. This was not the conventional young actress to whom I have been accustomed; this slight, undeveloped figure, in its straight, girlish gown reaching only to the slender ankles. There was a pretty assumption of dignity; there was a constant cropping out in bearing, in speech, in humor and in gestures of delicious, inimitable, unconcealable youth which was most fetching and which had something so infinitely touching in it.

“I have never encountered a face more variable. At one moment I would think her beautiful. The next instant a quick turn of the head would give me a different view of the face and I would say to myself, ‘She is plain’; then she would speak, and that beautiful musical _mezzo_, so uncommon to American ears, and from which a Boston man once emotionally declared ‘feeling could be positively wrung, so over-saturated was it,’ would touch my heart and all else would be forgotten. Such was Minnie Maddern when I first met her on her eighteenth birthday.”

[169] This was not her first marriage. She had been married when she was about sixteen to LeGrand White, a musician and theatrical manager. They were divorced about two years before she married Mr. Fiske.

“For two years before her marriage [to Mr. Fiske] she had been continually worried with the theatre and her rest was a welcome one. She had many interests beside the stage, and loved to get away to a little cottage, at Larchmont, where she took an active part in all the doings, and where she was a familiar figure driving a little yellow cart madly over the roads, more often bare headed than not, and always with that wonderful red hair flying in the wind.”--Mildred Aldrich.

[170] The list of productions beginning with Mrs. Fiske’s return to the stage in 1893, and not including revivals, is as follows: _A Doll’s House_, and _Hester Crewe_ (by Mr. Fiske), 1893; _Frou-Frou_, 1894; _The Queen of Liars_ (_La Menteuse_) and _A White Pink_, 1895; _A Light from St. Agnes_ (by Mrs. Fiske) and _La Femme de Claude_, 1896; _Divorçons_ and _Tess of the D’Urbervilles_, 1897; _A Bit of Old Chelsea_ and _Love Finds a Way_ (_The Right to Happiness_) 1898; _Little Italy_, _Magda_, and _Becky Sharp_, 1899; _The Unwelcome Mrs. Hatch_ and _Miranda of the Balcony_, 1901; _Mary of Magdala_, 1902; _Hedda Gabler_, 1903; _Leah Kleschna_, 1904; _The Rose_, and _The Eyes of the Heart_ (one-act plays by Mrs. Fiske), 1905; _Dolce_, and _The New York Idea_, 1906; _Rosmersholm_, 1907; _Salvation Nell_, 1908; _Hannele_, _The Pillars of Society_, and _Mrs. Bumpstead-Leigh_, 1910; _The New Marriage_, 1911; _Lady Patricia_ and _The High Road_, 1912; _Lady Betty Martingale, or The Adventures of a Hussy_, 1914.

[171] H. T. Parker in the _Boston Transcript_.

[172] W. P. Eaton.

[173] H. T. Parker.

[174] In 1907 Mrs. Fiske took _The New York Idea_ on an unprecedented tour throughout the West. She played not only as far South as the Mexican border, and along the Pacific coast, but even went into the Canadian Northwest as far as Edmonton, appearing in many towns that had never before seen a theatrical company of the highest grade. And _The New York Idea_, a sophisticated comedy addressed to Eastern audiences, was successful everywhere. At Globe, Arizona, the audience contained hundreds who had come from long distances by train, stage or horse-back. Calgary demanded a return engagement. At Edmonton the play was given in a rink on an improvised stage, and lasted from eleven o’clock--the time of the arrival of the belated train--till two of the early northern dawn.

[175] “There never was a case of lame or scurvy dog that fell under Mrs. Fiske’s notice that did not get instant relief. A mangy and ownerless mongrel cur on the street never failed to find a friend in her. If she were in a carriage, no conveyance was too good for Towser or Tige. Towser or Tige might never have had a bath during all of his unhappy dog days, but into the carriage went the friend of man, and the coachman was directed to steer for the nearest veterinarian, who was forthwith subsidized to make a good dog out of a very much frazzled one, and send the bill to Mrs. Fiske. All over this glorious country dogs were being repaired, boarded, and rebuilt as good as new, when masters were adopted for them, and ‘the dog that Mrs. Fiske saved’ lived his allotted span and expired loved, honored, and respected. With horses, too, it was just the same. I believe if she were on the way to a matinée with the house all sold out, and an abused or otherwise pitiful case of horse attracted her attention,--and it _would_--she would sacrifice that matinée before she would the horse.”--Griffith.

[176] Mrs. Fiske at one time was fond of visiting the motion-picture theatres, heavily veiled and sitting in the back of the house. The better grade of foreign films interested her. And she has recently shown more broad-mindedness toward a growing art than some actresses much lower than she in the artistic scale; for she has herself recently acted _Tess_ and _Becky Sharp_ for the motion-picture camera.

“When attending another theatre, as she sometimes does on a Wednesday afternoon, she would like, if she could, to occupy an obscure balcony seat, or at the back downstairs; but if that is not feasible, and a box must be taken, she generally ensconces herself behind the drapery, in as inconspicuous a place as possible. There is absolutely nothing of the spectacular or ‘theatrical’ about Mrs. Fiske.”--Griffith.

[177] “During a rehearsal her poodle entered the theatre and calmly and unconsciously crossed the stage, keeping at a respectful distance from her, however, only condescending to notice her mistress with a side glance. This was so contrary to her customary dashing and bounding approach, that Mrs. Fiske stopped the rehearsal and called to Fifi to come to her. But not Fifi; she merely glanced and continued her dignified and stately promenade across the stage. Persistently and with authority Mrs. Fiske ordered the queenly Fifi to approach. Not for Hecuba--no approach, only a pause. Mohammed must go to the mountain, and Mrs. Fiske did the approaching. Did Fifi grin, or what did the slight gleam of white teeth portend? It was merely the flash of lightning, for the thunder came soon after in a low growl of defiance. Never had such a thing happened before. This impromptu play was good, with Mrs. Fiske at her best, and the audience of actors stood by immensely interested. With tragic emphasis Mrs. Fiske stamped her foot and, pointing in the direction of her dressing room, ordered the black woolly beast to begone and quit her sight, to let the dressing room hide her, and a few things like that, and added something about Fifi’s bones being marrowless and her blood cold, and about the absence of speculation in her eyes which she did glare with. Just then Mr. Gilmore remarked: ‘That’s not Fifi--that’s my dog Genie.’ Laughter--quick curtain.”--Griffith.

[178] “When a series of one-night stands was being played--and she has a perfectly frantic fondness for them--it was our custom to charter a Pullman, as she lived in the car instead of in hotels.... This she most urgently requested to have placed ‘_not_ at the end of the train.’ The rear-end collision had mortal terrors for her.... The same nervous fear applied to non-fireproof hotels, in any of which Mrs. Fiske will not go above the second story.... Mrs. Fiske appears never to weary of travel, and while she objects to starts ranging from five to ten o’clock A.M., an earlier or later leaving hour does not disturb her; in fact, she says she rarely falls asleep until near morning. We had a prohibition against ringing the berth bells before ten A.M., and also against any kind of alarm clock.... Very rarely Mrs. Fiske went to the dining car in the train, her dislike for making herself conspicuous being very marked. This modesty was exemplified in her fondness for veils, as she always wore at least one, and more generally two.... Her unceasing employment of time when on tour is in study. It is a never-ending labor, and one that evidently delights her. The preparation for things to come--perhaps a year or more ahead--is always in her mind.... During all my time [thirteen years] with Mrs. Fiske she never lost a single night from illness.”--Griffith.

[179] On Ninth Street, between Vine and Race.

[180] According to an interview with Mrs. Hess, printed in 1897 in the Cincinnati _Commercial Tribune_.

[181] She was also Myrene in _Pygmalion and Galatea_ and Stephen in _The Hunchback_.

[182] Miss Dow was for many years known as the aunt of Miss Marlowe. There was no actual relationship; but by legal agreement or otherwise Miss Marlowe was an “adopted niece” of the older woman. Miss Dow’s interest in her young charge was, naturally, not wholly altruistic. That is, there was a signed agreement by virtue of which Miss Dow was to share heavily in any earnings of Miss Marlowe for a term of years after the début, and was to have a voice in the management of her affairs. After the actress’ emergence in 1887 as Julia Marlowe, however, Miss Dow’s management continued for only a few years. There was even newspaper talk of Miss Marlowe’s having “thrown over” her guide and friend, after she began to meet success. Miss Dow became Mrs. Currier. Her training of Fanny Brough started her on a long career as a dramatic teacher, in which capacity she was active as recently as the autumn of 1915.

[183] Juliet in _Romeo and Juliet_, Julia in _The Hunchback_, Parthenia in _Ingomar_, Pauline in _The Lady of Lyons_ and Galatea in _Pygmalion and Galatea_.

[184] “Whole plays were rehearsed. The instructor served both as audience and prompter. She read all the parts save the heroine’s. Scenery and the position of the other players were indicated by tables and chairs. When _Romeo and Juliet_ was rehearsed, the back of a venerable haircloth sofa was the balcony rail. With her chin resting upon it and her gaze fixed tenderly upon a worn place in the carpet, she first recited Juliet’s impassioned good-night to her lover.”

[185] On the twentieth. How old was Julia Marlowe on this important day of her life? The date of her birth has been variously given, and authority might be found for any year between 1864 and 1870. As a matter of fact, the Register of Baptisms of the Parish of Caldbeck shows that she was baptized September 23, 1866. Thus she was at least twenty-one at the time of her début, though she was popularly supposed to be about eighteen.

[186] Besides other things, Colonel Ingersoll said: “To retain the freshness that is her greatest charm she will have to ... pay no attention to the critics. Her talent needs no guide save that afforded by her experience and her own mentality.” One Alfred Ayres, writing to the editor of the New York _Dramatic Mirror_, voiced the protest that was felt in many quarters against Colonel Ingersoll’s kindly meant over-enthusiasm: “What nonsense clever men do sometimes talk, when they talk about things they know little or nothing about!... There is not a novice in America more in need of guidance than is Miss Julia Marlowe. To let her go her own way would be to let her go to ruin. She is already on the high-road to becoming merely coy, coddling, and goody-goody.” Colonel Ingersoll became Miss Marlowe’s personal friend. At least one summer she spent with his family.

[187] Beginning with her New York début in 1887, Julia Marlowe’s first appearances in her various parts were as follows: Parthenia in _Ingomar_, Juliet in _Romeo and Juliet_, Viola in _Twelfth Night_, 1887; Julia in _The Hunchback_, Pauline in _The Lady of Lyons_, 1888; Rosalind in _As You Like It_, Galatea in _Pygmalion and Galatea_, 1889; Beatrice in _Much Ado About Nothing_, 1890; Imogen in _Cymbeline_, Charles Hart in _Rogues and Vagabonds_, 1891; Constance in _The Love Chase_, 1893; Letitia Hardy in _The Belle’s Stratagem_, Chatterton in _Chatterton_, Lady Teazle in _The School for Scandal_, 1894; Colombe in _Colombe’s Birthday_, Prince Hal in _Henry IV_, Kate Hardcastle in _She Stoops to Conquer_, 1895; Lydia Languish in _The Rivals_ (supplementary spring season, with “all-star cast”), Romola in _Romola_, 1896; Mary in _For Bonnie Prince Charlie_, The Countess in _The Countess Valeska_, 1897; Colinette in _Colinette_, Barbara in _Barbara Frietchie_, 1899; Mary Tudor in _When Knighthood Was in Flower_, 1901; Fiametta in _The Queen Fiametta_, Charlotte Oliver in _The Cavalier_, 1902; Lady Barchester in _Fools of Nature_, 1903; Ophelia in _Hamlet_, 1904; Katherine in _The Taming of the Shrew_, Portia in _The Merchant of Venice_, 1905; Salome in _John the Baptist_, Jeanne in _Jeanne d’Arc_, Rautendelein in _The Sunken Bell_, 1906; Madonna Gloria in _Gloria_, Yvette in _The Goddess of Reason_, 1908; Cleopatra in _Antony and Cleopatra_, 1909; Lady Macbeth in _Macbeth_, 1910.

[188] For Henry IV Mr. and Mrs. Taber had to learn to wear armor. They used genuine armor, and to accustom themselves to it they wore it for hours each day in their apartments.

[189] Frank Howe, of the Walnut Street Theatre, Philadelphia.

[190] She obtained a divorce in January, 1900. Four years later Taber died, of tuberculosis, “at a refuge in the Adirondack Mountains, provided for him,--for he had been rendered practically destitute by illness--through the goodness of his former wife.” (Winter.)

[191] In the season of 1895–96 during the “Mr. and Mrs. Taber” period, they had played with some success at Wallack’s, practically her first down-town engagement since the début in 1887. It was during this engagement that William Dean Howells wrote enthusiastic praise of her Juliet.

[192] This memorable alliance first went into effect in Chicago, September 19, 1904, at the Illinois Theatre. It continued for three seasons, after which, during the seasons of 1907–8 and 1908–9, each again headed separate companies. In 1909 they rejoined forces, and continued to act together until the spring of 1914, when Miss Marlowe was taken sick, and Mr. Sothern continued alone. At this time it was announced that Miss Marlowe had retired from the stage for good. There was subsequently some talk of a farewell tour, but Miss Marlowe’s retirement was definitely confirmed in the summer of 1915. As everyone knows, the two stars became man and wife. The marriage occurred in London, in 1911.

[193] Mr. Walkley wrote in _The Times_ an eloquent tribute to her Viola, which he found “bewitching.” “In the purely sensuous element in Shakespeare, in the poet’s picture of frankly joyous and full-blooded womanhood, the actress is in her element, mistress of her part, revelling in it and swaying the audience by an irresistible charm. She aims at no startling ‘effects’; she seems to be simply herself--herself, that is, glorified by the romance of the part--enjoying the moment for the moment’s sake, and so making the moment a sheer enjoyment for the spectator. That is now clearly shown which in her earlier parts could only be divined--that here is a genuine individuality, a temperament of real force and peculiar charm. High-arched brows over wide-open, eloquent eyes; a most expressive mouth, now roguish with mischief, now trembling with passion; a voice with a strange croon in it, with sudden breaks and sobs--these, of course, are purely physical qualifications which an actress might have and yet not greatly move us. But behind these things in Miss Marlowe there is evidently an alert intelligence, a rare sense of humor and a nervous energy which make, with her more external qualities, a combination really fine. She beguiled not only Olivia, but the whole house to admiration. Here, then, is one of Shakespeare’s true women.”

[194] Elizabeth McCracken.

[195] One can doubt the _entire_ truth of this statement without denying the larger truths lying in her general statement.

[196] James Kiskadden died when Maude was ten years old.

[197] In San Francisco.

[198] Acton Davies--_Maude Adams_.

[199] Part of the time, at least, Mrs. Adams substituted herself for Maude when the time for this plunge arrived.

[200] “Yes, I confess it,” she has declared, “I was in the ballet for six brief months. There is much to be learned there, and some the ballet’s teachings may be advantageously applied to the art of acting. Studied forms of dancing are not, perhaps, an essential part of a player’s outfit, but they have a certain related value not to be lightly esteemed.”--Perriton Maxwell.

[201] Perriton Maxwell. Her parts in Mr. Sothern’s company were: Louisa in _The Highest Bidder_, and Jessie Deane in _Lord Chumley_.

[202] Produced at Palmer’s Theatre, New York, October 3, 1892. It was a French play, adapted by Clyde Fitch.

[203] Her parts were: Suzanne in _The Masked Ball_, 1892; Miriam in _The Butterflies_, 1894; Jessie Keber in _The Bauble Shop_, 1894; Marion in _That Imprudent Young Couple_, 1895; Dora in _Christopher, Jr._, 1895; Adeline Dennant in _The Squire of Dames_, 1896; Dorothy Cruikshank in _Rosemary_, August, 1896. On December 9, 1896, she played Mary Verner in _Too Happy by Half_.

[204] The plays and parts of Maude Adams’ “stardom” are as follows: Lady Babbie in _The Little Minister_, 1897; Mrs. Hilary in _Mrs. Hilary Regrets_ (special performance, with John Drew), 1897; Juliet in _Romeo and Juliet_ (supplementary spring season), 1899; Duke of Reichstadt in _L’Aiglon_, 1900; Phœbe Throssell in _Quality Street_, 1901; Pepita in _The Pretty Sister of José_, 1903; Amanda Affleck in _’Op O’ Me Thumb_ (in one act), 1905; _Peter Pan_, 1905; Viola in _Twelfth Night_ (at Harvard), 1908; Chicot in _The Jesters_, 1908; Maggie Wylie in _What Every Woman Knows_, 1908; Joan of Arc in _The Maid of Orleans_ (at Harvard), 1909; Rosalind in _As You Like it_ (University of California), 1910; _Chanticler_, 1911; Leonora in _The Legend of Leonora_, 1913. This list does not include revivals.

[205] _The Wallet of Time_, vol. II.

[206] “Children, corsets and cigars were named after her;--as a matter of fact I know one ten-year-old child who has thirteen dolls, and every one of them bears the same identical name, Maude Adams.”--Acton Davies.

[207] Prepared by Louis N. Parker and Edward Rose.

[208] “She was at her best in the scene of supplication and childlike blandishment with the old Austrian Emperor. The vein of Miss Adams is domestic and romantic--not tragic. She carried the second act of the play with sustained vivacity and gratifying skill. Possessed of a gentle personality and capable of a piquant behavior, Miss Adams was a sprightly and bonnie lass in _The Little Minister_, and that performance furnished the measure of her ability. As Reichstadt she gave an intelligent performance, on a commonplace level.”--William Winter, _The Wallet of Time_.

[209] William Winter. His appreciation of some qualities of the impersonation did not prevent his saying: “Pepita, as impersonated by Miss Adams, was a tenuous damsel, of peevish aspect, who closed her teeth and spoke through them, producing, at times, a strange, nasal sound, as of a sheep bleating.”

[210] “At the moment when Maggie destroys Shand’s written promise of marriage and again at the moment when she gazes on the beauty who has bewitched her husband, Miss Adams attained to the loftiest height she has reached, in the expression of feeling.”--_The Wallet of Time._

[211] And indicates also, in the same people, a lamentably restricted judgment of the artistic side of what they see on the stage.

[212] Frederic Dean has given one or two cases of her bounty: “There used to be an old doorkeeper at the stage entrance of the Empire Theatre. One day he was taken sick and his place was filled by another. Miss Adams learned that the old chap had lost his position and made a hurried search for him, tracing him, at last, to an East Side tenement. It was long after midnight when she found him. He was very ill and was being taken care of by his faithful wife as best she could. Doctors and nurses were immediately summoned and every possible comfort provided; and the next morning, and the next, and the next came Lady Bountiful--and every day, until the sufferer died a month later.

“For sixteen years Robert Eberle was in Charles Frohman’s employ as business manager. One year, late in the season, he was taken ill and left in a hospital in South Bend, Indiana. Miss Adams was playing in the West at the time, and hearing of Mr. Eberle’s illness--though several hundred miles from the hospital--left her company on Saturday night, went to South Bend, spent Sunday at the sick man’s bedside, and, leaving orders for the best of medical treatment, returned to her work just in time to dress for her part on Monday night.”

[213] Ethel Barrymore was born at Philadelphia, August 15, 1879. Her mother was the actress, Georgie Drew-Barrymore.

[214] Margaret Anglin was born at Ottawa, April 2, 1876. Her father was Speaker of the Canadian House of Commons, and her brother was Chief Justice.

[215] Alla Nazimova was born at Yalta, Crimea, Russia, June 4, 1879.

[216] Edith Wynne Matthison was born at Birmingham, England.

[217] Grace George was born at New York City, December 25, 1879.

[218] Following the American production, Miss George played _Divorçons_ in London.

[219] Laura Hope Crews was born at San Francisco.

[220] Besides Miss Russell, Miss O’Neil, Miss Stahl and Miss Crosman, these are some of the American actresses of the closing years of the nineteenth century and the early years of the twentieth century, who merit more notice than can be given them here, but whose achievements are recorded in the books named in the bibliography: Viola Allen, Julia Arthur, Blanche Bates, Amelia Bingham, Clara Bloodgood, Mrs. Leslie Carter, Rose Coghlan, Ida Conquest, Maxine Elliott, Virginia Harned, Isabel Irving, May Irwin, Mary Mannering, Clara Morris, Eleanor Robson, Effie Shannon, Mary Shaw and Blanche Walsh. Some in this list, like Miss Irwin, Miss Coghlan and Miss Shannon, are, happily, still active. And Miss Arthur announces her return to the stage.

[221] Rutland to Nethersole.

[222] 1629.

[223] Women acted in Italy as early as 1560, and actresses appeared in France probably not much later. The earliest French actress of whom there is definite record is Marie Vernier, who acted in Paris, in her husband’s company, in 1599. In Spain the practice of substituting boys and men in women’s parts seems never to have obtained. Going back to antiquity, it is to be noted that while the Greeks never tolerated actresses on their stage, in Rome occasional women players were by no means unknown.

[224] In the interim D’Avenant had ingeniously circumvented the restrictions placed by Cromwell’s government on the theatres, by devising a species of opera. They were really plays, in the grand style, modeled after Italian pieces, and with a musical accompaniment to take the curse off. In one of these, _The Siege of Rhodes_, performed in 1656, two women, Mrs. Edward Coleman and another, played Ianthe and Roxalana.

[225] Thomas Jordan’s prologue shows that the “boys” were now sometimes dangerously near middle age:

“Our ‘women’ are defective, and so sized,
You’d think they were some of the guard disguised;
For, to speak truth, men act, that are between
Forty and fifty, wenches of fifteen;
With bone so large, and nerve so incompliant,
When you call DESDEMONA, enter GIANT.”

“Old Chetwood tells a story which amply illustrates the absurdity of the ‘men-actresses.’ King Charles II, he says, coming to the theatre to see _Hamlet_ and being kept waiting for some time, sent the Earl of Rochester behind to see what was causing the delay. He returned with the information that ‘the Queen was not quite shaved.’ ‘Odsfish!’ said the King. ‘I beg her Majesty’s pardon. We’ll wait till her barber has done with her.’”--Lowe’s _Betterton_.

[226] As seems clear, for instance, from Hamlet’s unusual consideration of them. The often-quoted law enacted in the reigns of Elizabeth and James seems, however, to have been directed not against the established city companies, but against the wandering country players. It reads, quaintly enough: “All bear-wards, common players of interludes, counterfeit Egyptians, etc., shall be taken, adjudged, and deemed Rogues and Vagabonds and Sturdy Beggars, and shall sustain all pain and punishment as by this act is in that behalf appointed.” For a résumé of the phases of the actor’s lack of social position see John Fyvie’s “Comedy Queens of the Eighteenth Century.”

[227] “Of course, in the theatrical profession, as in every other, there have always been exceptional individuals whose characters and abilities (especially if they managed to acquire a little wealth) have raised them into the highest society of their time. But in the case of actors it was always quite apparent that they were only there in sufferance, and were tolerated because they were amusing. It was thought a stinging satire, for example, when ‘Junius,’ incidentally addressing Garrick, wrote: ‘Now mark me, _vagabond_; keep to your pantomimes or be assured you shall hear of it.’”

[228] “Goldsmith having said, that Garrick’s compliment to the Queen, which he introduced into the play of _The Chances_, which he had altered and revised this year, was mean and gross flattery; Johnson: ‘... as to meanness (rising into warmth), how is it mean in a player--a showman--a fellow who exhibits himself for a shilling, to flatter his queen?’ (1773).

“He (Foote) mentioned, that an Irish gentleman said to Johnson, ‘Sir, you have not seen the best French players.’ Johnson: ‘Players, Sir! I look on them as no better than creatures set upon tables and joint-stools to make faces and produce laughter, like dancing dogs.’--‘But, Sir, you will allow that some players are better than others?’ Johnson: ‘Yes, Sir, as some dogs dance better than others.’ (1775).

“I wondered (said Johnson) to find Richardson displeased that I ‘did not treat Cibber with more _respect_. Now, Sir, to talk of _respect_ for a _player_’ (smiling disdainfully). Boswell: ‘There, Sir, you are always heretical; you never will allow merit to a player.’ Johnson: ‘Merit, Sir, what merit? Do you respect a rope-dancer, or a ballad-singer?’ Boswell: ‘No, Sir; but we respect a great player, as a man who can conceive lofty sentiments, and can express them gracefully.’ Johnson: ‘What, Sir, a fellow who claps a hump on his back, and a lump on his leg, and cries, “I am Richard the Third”?’” (1777).--Boswell’s “Life of Johnson.”

[229] And even of Bracegirdle, the incomparably virtuous, certain doubts exist. Mountford is thought by some to have been a favored lover; and later Congreve, the poet, was accounted the actor’s successor.

Transcriber’s Notes

Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed.

Simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unbalanced quotation marks retained.

Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained; occurrences of inconsistent hyphenation have not been changed. In particular, “to-day”, “today”, and similar words were printed both ways. When hyphenated versions of those words appeared at the ends of lines, the hyphens were retained.

Index not checked for proper alphabetization or correct page references. All references to pages in the Preface were incorrect.

Page 33, Footnote 34: Uses both “Tisbe” and “Tisbé”.

Page 172, Footnote 107: “I am unable to bring me a present” probably is a misprint for “bring you a present”.

Page 198, Footnote 125: “Sogno” was misprinted as “Songo”; changed here.

The Index refers to footnotes by the pages on which they originally appeared. In versions of this eBook that use hyperlinks, those references remain page-oriented; they do not link to specific footnotes.

Footnotes originally appeared at the bottoms of pages and were numbered within chapters. In this eBook, they have been moved to the end, following the Index, and renumbered in a single sequence.

End of Project Gutenberg's Heroines of the Modern Stage, by Forrest, Izard