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'■ • -J] fm--i:m:rv:if- ^^^ vi-i^. ■■■V--v:'^v-i^N^:';*t:''': R;-f''-:tv.'>'>m--.- '''":•■ -.o' :| feiiiife ^i'f-'''W' V '''J &i"'-:!^V, ;;v;f>;-'v:':;^y ^''^:>rv::':?*^A'-\w-7>-''0'r/i.:^h ■-.■:•;■ ^w^„,^. ,:^V'/.;'n>;'--;-v--r . ...i^'^V-J :«:^% MERELY PLAYERS BY HARRY LINDLEY, COMEDIAN. Copyrighted at Office of Minister of Agriculture, Ottawa. Entered at Office of Librarian of Congress, Washington, D.C. U- 6 a 4 ^ — ilu^^ ^o^^l DEDICATION. I DEDICATE THIS BOOK TO MY ''KNIGHTS OF PYTHIAS" BRETHREN, MORE ESPECIALLY LODGE "NO. I MYSTIC," OF TORONTO, Of which I am a very early member, and of which my youngest daughter bears the name. . r^ /- n And am yours m r. C b., HARRY LINDLEY, Comedian. X V ipp PREFACE. In Baltimore when I produced a play which was ultra-sensational and probably ultra-absurd in its mortif, but which drew money to our exchequer, one of the newspapers put the query. " For what reason did Mr. Lindley write this play?" I replied that, like Shakespeare, I wrote for money, but, that unlike the immortal bard, I fully believed I would not trouble the lawyer to make a will, leaving a fortune for my kindred to quarrel over. Probably some of my readers will say, why did I write this book ? Same answer will suffice. Its contents, however, may be the means of taking off some of the glamour that surrounds the stage, and by these means lead those who have become technically stage struck to inquire whether it is worth while to give up, in some cases, "father, mother and kindred " to follow a precarious profession, which, while it has some prizes, offers a preponderance of blanks. I have relied in most instances on memory, but I have not wrong- fully misstated herein anything, nor have I "wilfully extenuated or set down aught in malice." At the same time I pray the critics to be merciful, as this is not a connected autobiography, although somewhat in that strain, but merely a number of events loosely strung together, giving an OUa Podrida of serious and humorous circumstances. I may occasionally, (to use a professional phrase,) be a little mixed in my dates, and if the sequence is irregular the facts are there, and if I have sacrificed the unities anywhere it may be attributed to haste. With these few preliminary remarks I ring up the curtain. HAERY LINDLEY. .V ''■■■i'-.';-U'/":'.- "*■•'■■-■' ■.1 ■, y_. , -■I': ;^v>:r,; r: :■:■. ■,'■; ,.{ ■ '. '••'•V' A'.'. '^ r/ CHAPTEIl I. EARLY IMPRESSIONS. The adage *^poet<( nasvitur von Jit" seems to me to be in the re- verse as regards an actor, for although tlie actor may be original in his methods, still it is an absolute necessity that his attempts to por- tray nature should bo artificial, and furthermore the nearer he ap- proaches nature, the loss likely he is to succeed. Later on I will ex- emplify this fact. I use this as a prelude to say that I was not a born actor, far from it, and what little I know of the actors' art has been, as it were, instilled into me by study, and I am not ashamed to say, imitation. My first visit to a Theatre, nearly half a century ago, was in a country town where we were summering. There was great ex- citement in the town, for a booth had been erected and the caravans and play-folks had come to stay. A booth is not a familiar thing on this continent but common in England. The composition consists of canvas roof and wooden shutters, oblong in shape. These with seats, scenery, etc., are conveyed on flat wagons, which aforesaid wagons are used for the stage and sometimes for two stages, one for internal and the other, during Fairs, for external use, when King Richard, Romeo, Macbeth, Lear and the heroes of Ringleted melodramas parade in hybrid garments in company with Lady Anne, Juliet, Lady Macbeth, and possibly the Columbine. These itinerant delineators of the tragic and comic muse generally reside in the auditorium, al- though the manager may live in a beautiful palace on four wheels, painted yellow, as Grinnidge has it. The opening attraction, which was extensively announced on painted posters, was " The Green Bushes." The housemaid, who led me on this eventful evening to witness this, to me unknown and fairyland (and that, too, at risk of dismissal), was a creature of sentiment. She sat upon those hard and abbreviated seats and wept honest tears at the heroine's sorrows, and laughed unrestrainedly at the vagaries of the comedians. That it was delirium to me— that it was romantic — that it was the acme of splendid enjoyment — well, cela va sans dire. The wild Huntress of the '■"-'■'■■>■•»!■ 'fL'-i!'-'ii'r I Mississippi, in garments composed of dilapidated rugs snppOHea to roprcHont skins, a lieailgear in which turkey feathers predominated, a sliort skirt of brown cotton llannel, and stockings or tigiits, dowu whose sides weru rows of buttons, niiide ati undying impression upon my juvenile mind. She was tall — unusually so. bho was somewliut ungainly, her voice a little harsh, but to mo she was the genius of tragedy, and when she precipitated iierself into the roaring waters with the despairing exclamation, "River of my race, receive me," my admiration knew no bounds, although the rescue by a boat which os- cillated painfully and of v/hich the wheels were visible, was apt to give my imagination a severe shock. The comedian, by name liurton, was an artist to me then, and years after I saw him was an artist still, and the sardonic, repulsive, drunken villain with matted hair and elongated strides tilled me with admnatJon. I remember the house- maid whispering to me with awe '* That's Shakespeare Walton." I understood afterwards that the gentleman had appeared at tho Strand r .:• y^.: 5 Theatre as a lineal descendant of the immortal 1 -rd, and, despite the y''^'^\''f''^; fact that his talents were unusual, had been consigned to the country 'i<;,y^f^:x:: as an impostor. The rest of the dram -person re have been seen in the '■■''''' '^^■f.-il miniature stages of the " Miller and his Men." This ancient melo- >v: }-'y :, drama, witten, by the way, by the funniest comedian 1 ever sa.. , was i ••:!•> v'-'^'O me a revelation. I went home and slept and dreamt of sweet ^f;.''<..; Nelly O'Neill, and I remember on awaking the next morning I was '■^\':^^ic ■;':': discordantly trying to sing " I'll buy you tine beavers and fine silken '■^ '-'■■■ l^ 'J: gowns." Early after breakfast I was looking at the fabric which con- V ..y^^ tained so many jewels. Thence I wandered to the managerial cara- :iv:- >■ ' van, and there I saw my wild huntress. She was at the door affix- •;,v(^^..;>.; iijg to a line a pair of unknown garments to me, and in shrill tones vi:" •' '■ called out, " Will, when you go up to the village, see if you can buy \'^; ■':'■' another pink saucer to dye those tights." I wandered around and :':.-: 'VJV';.., gazed with awe at a monstrous yellow dog, and peeping in the booth •'^ 'ivV was warned off in comedy tones by a man with a plain, good-natured, .•^• ,;•:•:': ? but worn face. Mustering up courage I asked him if he was the gen- A4'.:vW} v^;!--3^^^^^ tleman who was scalped last night, which seemed to please him, and ^••^••A.V;/'''^^; *■•'>'.. when T said I laughed at him, he smiled still more, put his hand in .V/ .,;;'chis pocket, gave me a penny and requested me to come and see him ;'•.:}, ;>p Hamlet, as he told me he could pull more faces and get more m ^'■■•' I ).;r. , •f-i ■ -S- '.vx,-.^: - • ..1 ■ v.; ;■>■/',■ ■■•.,' .:■• . i;v ••■'■.•' ^v' ■■■'.'•:"•(•'■ /■•- ••t^'!v ■•'.<■■ V ■:''.l<. ■■■■P^yii: iV a"' "^ •V ■■' -.-.l. -■■' '''•, ■V-. ;, ■■•"'X' •■■"ir ^- i ...•^':v 1 '.'•i -■: ., . .>■<.: / ■•J .'*■'■ •> . ■ * • • ■■'■■T>. '• " * -."^ '^^ •-^ .' I. , . ■,•■ ; /• . • ./. .- . r. r. •/: >. ' ' ■ . ' 1 ■ •": ■ ••'. •1 '' ■ ■ ..':• ■^•:■■:^ ).---::^ ■:■ :■:^■y ..J" "■ !!! ■:« laughs out of that character, I left him actuated and fired by dra- matic ambition. The age of booths in " Merrie England " has al- most past away, but although the nomenclature of its votaries ju- dicially was "vagabond by act of parliament," yet from their ranks have sprung the greater lights of the dramatic stage, and m passant I recall the fact that sitting next to " Charles Dickens " at the Thea- trical fund dinner "—by the bye, the last to which he ever came— I heard that big-hearted, noble man, in his after-dinner speech bear testimony to the virtues of the poor stroller in a strain fuil of pathos, and master of his art as he was, he then adroitly gave a description of their nomadic hfe, filling the auditors with laughter. Following in his wake came one equally as bright in her way, Mrs. Stirling, with her tribute of respect and love to all the members of the craft from these primitive exponents to the brighter luminaries CHAPTER II. SCHOOLBOY DAYS. I was educated at a public school, where, as goes the prospectus, " a hberal and classical education, French and German so much extra — no corporal punishment allowed— lessons on the cornet by an old soldier— dancing by an eminent professor," formed stellar features, and among my co-mates and companions in exile was the cele- brated unionist, Joseph Chamberlain, buv— I do not propose to be auto- biographical. I am merely giving some idea how seed takes root in the dramatic heart. Shakespeare was one of our studies, and the best essay on the baid of Avon usually elicited a diploma of merit. These halycon days of youth were happiness indeed, and when as was customary with the " boarders " we were taken to the Theatre, it was to us a day, or rather a night, of jubilee. The .P:of ssors usually chose some distinctive play, wherein the moral was unobjec- tionable, and which bore the stamp of being legitimate. Attired fault- lessly and scrupulously starched, we marched into boxes, where we sat and munched oranges, and envied the boys in the gallery, who could —8— I with yelling voices and perspiring faces indulge in their conventional freedom and shout order or encore, whilst we surveyed them and tho stage with aristocratic hauteur and pious demeanour. Among other attractions I saw Couldock in his prime give a faithful portrait of the wily Cardinal Richelieu, and nlthough I have played in the drama with Booth, King, Forest and many others, still his energetic manner and wonderful power in the " Curse Scene" al- ways livod in my memory. I have played with him since in that drama, which has been the forerunner of the Hazel Kirke and country school of acting, viz., Willow Corpse, and I have oftan imagined that the wealth ported in on others went astray from him. I have heard anecdotes ad nauseam of his peculiar splenitiveuess in business, and have witnessed some, but there is the best of heart inside of his rough manner. He had a grim humour in his roughness. Well do I remem- ber being sent with him on a stellar tour and business not filling up the exchequer and his addition to the text in the part of Luke, "I can't read, I can't write," and with a grin, looking at the audience, *' and I can't draw." Our greatest scholastic treat, however, was " The Pantomime." It is peculiar with what fondness the Britisher sticks to his Christmas extravaganza, whilst in America it does not take root at all. The amounts lavished upon this style of entertain- ment are fabulous, whilst months cf preparation are used to ensure success. Whether the story be '• Jack the (iiant Killer," •* Jack Sprat," *' Jack and the Bean Stalk," " Robinson Crusoe,'" or any other popular story, the plot will be steadfastly followed, but the com- ponent y&rta arj setnper idem, viz., music hall songs travestied, local topics, dances and bad rhyme, illustrated by pretty girls and come- dians whose humor must be ultra-farcical, for the opening portion, with a gorgeous transformation scene, in which fairies predominate, leading on to the change of characters for the pai.tomimical portion of the entertainment. What Britisher cannot recall his joy at the antics of clowns, pantaloons who commit brutal murders on stage policemen, stage bull dogs, stage soldiers, grunting porkers and beau- tiful ladies who -^ill be all thrown into the sausage machine and emerge from thei e into blue sausages, mottled sausages, red sau- sages, in fact an} idnd of sausage to suit the type of being that went in, or their gloomy bed-chambers where to would-be sleepers the bed- — 9— posts elongate into spectres, sheets walk, pillows fly and pictures change, bed-bugs (of colossal dimensions) walk around and finally all vanish into air, leaving the apostles of fun probably locked in each other's arms. These and other unconventional modes of life are travestied, and we, as other boys have done before and will do again, recalled and recalled with glee the faces (masks) of the gnomes and imps, the designs for which in English pantomnne have risen to an art. One artist in masks I can remember who bore the sobriquet of "Dykwynkyn" at Drury Lane, whose faces where marvels of humour and whose fame was not alone English but continental; yet in America, vjith the exception of G. L. Fox, I do not remember a pantomimic success, and his pantomime was not of the English school at all, nor even his make-up. It was the French Pierrott in style as regards quiet face play and costume. An attempt was once made by W. H. Simpson to introduce a Christmas Pantomime a VAnglaise at Wood's Theatre, New York. He brought actors, scenery, masks, etc., at an immense outlay, but it failed completely to catch the American public, and yet it had one of the best English comedians, Joseph Irving, in the opening, and Abbott, a first-class English clown, in the harle- quinade. Daring my educational career these to us, too infrequent events, brought us, however, glimpses of Charles Kean, Custavus Brooke, Mdme. Celeste, and probably also the two greatest dramatic remembrances of my life, (although one was rather more of a musical event), viz ; Jenny Lind and the other " The Guild of Literature and Art." They played for sweet charity's sake. Charles Dickens, with his Christmas stories, which, as they annually appeared, were the luxuries of hfe to our boyhood, had been only dreamt of, as a superior being, but when we heard that we were to visit his performance we were in a fever of expectation. Associated in this guild were also Mark Lemon, whom we knew as founder of Punch, Augustus Egg and other literary, artistic and poetic celebrities, holding up "the mirror to nature" in a play written by Wilkie Collins, which, although of a weird character, has been copied, in many forms, at a later date. Probably the realization of our delight was not as good as the antici- pation, inasmuch as the actors were not all " native and to the mauntr born," yet we saw before us in the flesh the creator of poor —10 — Sraike, Sairey Gamp, Sam Weller and the Pickwickian heroes. There was also one other performance remembered with pleasure, viz : Meyerbeer's •' Le Prophete," which we saw produced on a scale of unusual splendour. After a few years I was sent for tutelage under the auspices of Doctor Newman, the gifted author of "Apologia pro vitte suce," but I was restless and entreated my father to take me home and give me a trial at a commercial life with him. CHAPTEK III. AMATEURS. Did my readers ever manage an amateur dramatic association ? Marshalling battalions is nothing to it. Actors are assumed to be of tender and sensiative nature, but the hide generally gets tanned, and they can bear the buffets, etc. An amateur is composed of quips, cranks and oddities ; he is neither fish, flesh, fowl or red herring, but a sensitive plant, — a dramatic suckling. There are not six Romeos, nor Hamlets, nor Claudes in one play, so five will be naturally slighted because the sixth enacts the part. The characters of old men and women are betes noir likewise, whilst the villain is looked upon as a disagreeable character and might alienate the affections of the girl he loves best (in the audience.) The utility man feels that he could put into insignificance the efforts of the leading man, whilst the correc- tions of the stage manager are considered to be beneath notice. My first efforts as an amateur were exalted. I had seen Gustavus Brooke play " Sir Giles Over-reach." He was a great actor. Poor fellow he went down with the ship London, bound for Australia, as heroic- ally as one of his own Roman impersonations. My head was full of the play, and I read and re-read it. The part I had chosen was " Justice Greedy." We rehearsed it for six weeks, and probably changed the oast a dozen times, one discontented, one falling out and another falling in, but finally reached the desired end. We engaged professional ladies, who were received with as much homage as queens and looked up to as beings of a superior world, and paid for as — Il- liberally as they could desire. The object was charity and the house was packed. The performance was far better than could be expected, as, with the exception of the young lover, who had taken several glasses of cordial to give him courage, and who consequently mumbled and grumbled his lines considerably, all were perfect in the text, ajid the Garrick Club, which title we had adopted, was a success. Play after play succeeded each other, and pleasant evenings ensued as we produced " Still Waters Eun Deep," " Merchant of Venice," " Honeymoon," etc., and finally I produced a play from my own pen, " May and December," which, although crude, made its way acci- dentally to the London boards and is now sometimes acted. I have spoken of the gentlemen who required " Dutch courage," but from practical observation I never found that stimulants improve the dramatic mind, with but one exception, and that a great tragedian, whom I have seen swallow during the performance of "Othello" a pint or more of V. 0. Biandy, and yet give so vigorous a performance as to elicit a call in the handkerchief scene. The choice of a play to amateurs is one of the greatest difficulties, as " many men, many minds," and when it comes to selection it would seem as if it were absolutely necessary to hire an author to suit the idiosyncrasies of the aspirants. There's one peculiarity I've noticed in certain cities. An amateur will have an enormous reputation, he will bo the greatest tragedian or comedian ever seen (according to the local lights)— they say, " once get him on the regular stage he would astonish the world." Yet, on most occasions, I've discovered that when given the opportunity amongst professionals, the aforesaid amateur " dwindles, peaks and pines," although, of course, it may happen that by practice, he may ultimately become a good actor or star. It is doubtless in this case that the amateur is the embryo actor. However, we will leave the discursive for the reminiscent. The Earl of Dudley was "Colonel" of the Yeomanry Cavalry, a glorious institution which was sometimes of service in nutting down strikers when the strikers exceeded the law. They drill occasionally, aod for ten days annually gave active service at Worcester, the Shire city. My father being en rapport with the Earl I must needs become a member of the corps, and v/as gazetted through the Earl's influence as cornet. This is not a musical instrument. Does the title exist —12- ffl now ? I know not, but its functions are equivalent to a second lieutenant. Every horse in our company had to be grey, and its monetary value over twenty pounds, besides which there were premiums as the value of horses increased, consequently they were the best of the shire. Our annual drill was a saturnalia, on which occasion, attired in red coats, helmets and high boots, our swords jingling at our sides, we ogled the girls, were envied by the men, and at night battles with the rougher elements of the tov;nspeople were not unusual. There was the attraction of the Yeomanry Ball, also an amateur performance by the " Corps," under the distinguished pa- tronage of the Earl of Dudley, Sir John Packington, Lord Clive, &c. The P-^arl was as full of bonhomie and joy as a school boy. He was liberality personified, and altlnugli his title was not won by battle or noble deed, he was an adept in knowledge and a connoisseur in art, as his collection of old masters, " The Dudley gallery," shows. Our entertainment was a success, and during the second act the nobility strolled from the private box to the stage. There they stood, Dudley, Packington and the rest, bristling with compliments to actors and ac- tresses. I gave the signal, up went the curtain and discovered the first Lord of the Admiralty making a bee line for the wings, followed by the noble army. The Earl coolly advanced and, amidst the shouts of the audience, adjusted his eye-glass, smiled and said : " This is my first appearance, I thank you and the actors. I have not rehearsed my part so I will retire and leave the play to be finished by better hands." The Earl of Stamford was a great patron of amateurs, an enthusi- ast on cricket, a monomaniac on flowers, and a lunatic on fireworks. At his country seat, " Enville Hall," he would amalgamate all these passions and invite the whole country to his fetes or free show. There the " All England Eleven " cricketers would contest with •' Stamford and Warrington's " picked twenty-two. The public would tear around amongst the finest collection of flowers and shrubs in the land, and when dark, colored lights and fireworks would illuminate shrubs, trees, conservatories and groves. On dit that the countess was of circus extraction, but anyway she was a good rider, and it is also said that whilst the Earl was frittering his wealth, that on one occasion she looked up at the rockets and exclaimed : " This must be stopped, yoQ can't fizz all our money away in this manner." —13- ST 'I We were the crack amateur corps of the Midland counties, and would o'icasionaily electrify other burghs than our own, and from the same club sprang many actors who are now doing duty in England, America, and even the antipodes. So, as in my case, the amateur imbibes his love for the stage from its teachings. He loses fear of the public and ultimately salUes forth, new worlds to conquer. The ranks must be replenished somewhere, and this emigration helps the art, but yet I would not counsel amateurs to risk the chances of success. The prizes are so few, the blanks so many, and I have often heard it said that if an actor were to use the same energy, the same persistence, the same intellectual labor in any other walk of life, that his reward would be much greater. The love of the stage is a species of lunacy, a hallucination. As one old actor once said to me, all actors are mad ; if they were not mad they would not be actors. I may safely add that I have refused hundreds of young girls who thought that tb - road to greatness was simple. I have portrayed to them its hardships and trials, yet it had no deterrent effect. Once a young girl of about fifteen, in short dresses, came to me and said with much rustic archness : '• I want to be an actress, will you teach me and take me with you ?" Have you a father and big brother ? Yes, she replied. Well, go to each of them and ask them their fighting weight and come back and let me know. She never came back, but twelve years after I met the same lady in a " busted up " community of actors. She reminded me of the circumstance, and said '• You see 1 was determined to get there, and I got there." Well ? Well, I'm sorry for it. The glare of the foot-lights, the ap- plause and the laughter of the audience are doubtless the allurements. They are meat and drink to an actor, but although I have played during the ages of candles, kerosene, gas and inoandescents, I may safely say that although these were incentives to exertion, that more solid pabulum was never objectionable. Many amateurs with money commence their career at the top of the ladder, lose their money and slide ungracefully to the bottom, and worse than all, there is the society lady, whose notoriety has made her famous, or infamous, who makes the stage a dernier rensort for the exhibition of her charms, or in some cases disfigurements, (witness Bias De Bar,) and do more to disprracG their calling than the intellect of a better clasH can do to raise it. The introduction of cultured amateurs, such as prize-fighters, divorcees, criminal personages and safe blowers, results, probably, in pecuniary benefit to outside managers, but it is the noxious fungus on the otherwise healthy tree. One of these ladies I had the misery of supporting (as she was supporting me), and we started en tour through the New England States. Her money fled but she never repined. Our fame, or rather newspaper articles, depicting in glowing colors the past career of our stellar attraction, reached New Haven, Conn., and on the evening of the performance of " Esmeralda." a burlesque, the students gathered en ituisse and welcomed from the gallery our efforts to amuse with showers of p;\per pellets. In a lull of leisure I stalked gloomily to the front, received a few wads, then graciously looking up at the offenders I queried Ta)U(nne (mimis cielestibns iid, a retort which caught their fancy and exonerated me for the rest of the evening. I CHAPTER IV. A PROFESSIONAL. Upon some trifling slight one evening I hied me away to the great metropolis of art, London, and hovered around Bow street and what were technically termed " The Shambles," waiting an oppor- tunity to be butchered by the dramatic agent, and to butcher Shakespeare and the poets in turn. I waited and waited, but at last I saw in a dramatic paper, " The Era," an advertisement for a sing- ing low comedian. I answered it, received reply, '* Come on at salary of thirty shillings per week." I reflected inwardly that the town (Kilmarnock, in Scotland,) was not exactly the nurturing font of genius, but it was a start. I embarked with a stock of six wigs and sundry properties, and arrived there in due course, after craning my neck for hours at the Border, to gain a glimpse of Gretna Green, and revelling in the diversified scenery between Carlisle and Dum- fries and my destination. f ■ ■I —15— Oil arrival I looked for lodgings, found them and then asked the locality of the Theatre lloyal. I was directed there, and to my intense surprise the regal temple was a railway arch, sides built of wood, but duly furnished within with the necessary requirements. Its walls and roof were percolating with grimy moisture, but ambition overlooked these drawbacks, and with faltering footsteps I hastened to the abode of the manager, where I introduced myself. He had the appearance and manner of a gentleman having been educated for the bar, but his weakness was for the other bar, where whiskey and not Blaekstonc rules. With other faults he was somewhat light-headed. He informed me that I was cast f .' the first witch in " Macbeth," Glavis in " Lady of Lyons," Antolycus in " Wmter's Tale," Blueskin in " Jack Sheppard," Cheap John in " Flowers of the Forest," and Polonius in " Hamlet," all in one week and all new. I did not con- fess my ignorance, but said give me the books and I would be all right. There was a farce in addition to nearly all, but proverbially he gave me my choice of them. I studied till parts, books and eyes were blurred, but managed to get through. The surroundings were awful — the property man was a woman — with a broad lowland accent, who also enacted utility; her second actress in "Hamlet" being a revelation, and her intonation of " But xcae is me 1 am so seek o' late," was a parody on the immortal bard. The heavy man was a confirmed sot, and his king in "Hamlet" was burlesque burlesqued. In fact all the actors out-Heroded Herod. The next week was a repetition of the first, only more gloomy, as there was a stellar attraction, a Miss Goddard, who possessed talent of the highest order, and regaled the audience with nightmares of tragedy, such as Bertram, Fazio, etc., but which were a rest to me as I enacted the old men, second heavies, etc. Her "Winter's Tale" was a relief, as I revelled in the humors of Autolycus and received her special commendation. On the third week salaries were not forth- coming, but the manager came in on Thursday and handed each member four pounds of tea, and informed us that he had pawned certain articles but had to take tea instead of money. W^e grinned and bore it, as he had a monster night projected with " Eob Roy." I played the " Baillie," and to get some idea of the dialect, got my landlord (a tailor) to read the lines, and thus I gave a passable imita- -|6— m- > . ^• tion of the tailor, if not of the Bailhe. On the Sabbath ray tailor friend invited rao to kirk and dinner. I went, my stomach full of expectancy of dainties, but being a "guid uion" the luxuries consisted of boiled salt herrings and potatoes, mingled with a "guid" deal of Presbyterian doctrine. My termination of tiie engagement was peculiar. We had been invited out for a pleasant afternoon by a weaver, who insisted on regaling the company with Jock o' Hazeldean and mutchkins of whiakey. 1 am sorry to say that, with the others, the toddy was too much for me. I arrived at the theatre with head swimming, I dressed myself with one shoe and staggered on to my cue. Three of us looked blankly at each other and the leadnig lady scowled. A ghastly, idiotic smile was all the response ; she prompted, we grinned. She threw down her regal sceptre and left us with one word — "beasts." The audience hissed ; I looked at them idiotically, clung convulsively to the proscenium wing, and during the interval of silence gulped out, " You are the intelligent Scottish public — damn the Scottish public." My spirited anathema gained me applause, and the next thing I saw was the leading gentleman, with drawn sword, stumbling over fiddles into the audience, an immense clamor, men seemed to be flying through the air, and the " rest was silence," — I was fast asleep. ::.• ..v, . •^,.. :...;.;; /;-a.,-, :-;...-•. I got an immense amount of advertising in the local newspapers, also my discharge without salary, and a firm determination never to get drunk again. The management struggled on for a few nights fur- ther, and then, as I was waiting replies to letters, and none came, I was solicited by a Scotch actor to join him and three others and tour the shire, which we did, taking towns like Dairy, Ardrossan, Salt- coats, Irvine, Ayr, etc., as starters. I was a firm walker, and ten or twelve miles walk through the country which is dearest to all Scotch- men, "The land of Burns," was, to me not a torture, but a pilgri- mage. The bawbees were few, but we did well enough, as it was summer, and I visited the " Twa Brigs," Alloa Kirk and all the spots endeared to his countrymen by the plowman-poet's verse. •:.fi:-'. In Ayr there was a theatre. It was antiquated, musty, and stood in a forlorn location, but we booked there for three days, and gave a mixture of drama, readings, songs and farce, and on the last night a bespeak under the dislinguished patronage of "Sir 'Somebody' «^ J -ly: ' _ . ■■- ■ ' ■■ i ' ray tailor ih full of consisted il" deal of nent was loon by a blazGldean lie others, with head on to ray bdmg lady prorapted, with one diotically, uterval of ic — damn lause, aud wn sword, mor, men ence," — I wspapers, [ never to lights fur- le came, I i and tour san, Salt- and ten or ill Scotch- t a pilgri- as it was 1 the spots and stood ,nd gave a ist night a iomebody ' FerguKOij," who resided near there. My room overlooked the river, atid from the window I fished all day, but at night I was a fisher of men, who did not bite greedily. The scenery around rae was beauti- ful. The bay— well they said it was as beautiful as the " Jiay of Naples." How is it that in every clime, when speaking in admiration of its local bay, that comparison universally intrudes? On patronage night our musician was taken sick, so I had to hunt the neighborhood for accompaniment, or at least entr'acte music, but it was a failure. The janitor of the theatre, however, informed me that he could get a fiddler over from the •' island," and he would have him there for rehearsal an hour before commencing the performance. He did. He was ancient. He had a fiddle. We reduced the programme to simplicity. He struggled hard for one vocalist over " Scots wlia hae," and " John Anderson, my Joe," and for another " Caller Herrin," etc., each of whom were willing to accept any accompani- ment to save closing the house. When it came to my turn the music was foreign to him. Prelude was necessary. Notes were a luxury unknown to him, so I hummed and whistled the air — failure — tried again — failure ! So in despair I said, play prelude of " Caller Herrin " to my song of " Hamlet," and follow ine if you can. The dramatic portion was a success, but the lyric ? He got mixed and played "Caller Herrin" for the gentleman to sing •' John Anderson," gave the lady "John Anderson" for "Caller Herrin," and for me commenced wildly with " Tullochgorum," which, after several scowls from me, he changed to " Scots wlia hae." I commenced, " Scots wha hae wi Wallace bled, Scots wha hae wi haggis fed," followed this with jumble of songs and finally got ofi". 1 do not think the public appreciated our efforts. All through the evening I used "Scots wha hae" for a refrain, which puts me in mind of Alexander, the Glasgow theatrical manager, a gentleman who placed over the proscenium of his theatre three portraits, Shakespeare and Byron on either side, and Mr. Alexander in the middle. He was eccentric. During the performances at his theatre it was his custom to hum the air of the " Campbells are coming," so one would hear sotto voce a,s follows (varied to suit the exigencies of the situation,) ■ r {M " The CampbollH are coniiiif,', oh dear ! oh dear ! Ye've a hale in your Htocken, ye have ! ye have ! I'll fine you on Saturdny, I will ! I will I Shake the thander, Mihsis Alick. ye Jilatljerskite" — contiiard ud injiuituni, thus blending harmony. busineHH and apleen. Next day after our perlorinance, one raw Saturday, wo waited on "Sir Somebody FerguHon" to return thanks for his patronage. It is customary to do ho, and probably receive a handsome donation from ■ the patron. We were ushered in, I made a few remarks and court- eously thanked him for his patronage. A voice from an easy chair rasped out: "Did you (snutl") get a good house (snuff) ?" "Very bad," quoth I. " Sorry (snufl'), so sorry ; wish you better (stnitf) success on your next visit (snutf) Good morning." I still waited. " (fOod morning (violent snuff, snuff, snuff)." " (xood morning," we dolefully replied, and my Scotch brother in art on retiring added one of the Baillie's lines, "Curse his supple snout," in tones audible to the raw-boned, long-legged noble descendant of a Scotch border cattle thief. On Sabbath day 1 walked solus from Ayr to Kilmarnock over roads where the cobble stones were prevalent. I noticed the buxom lassies going along the country roads to Kirk with ruddy faces and sparkling "een," robust figure and limbs -limbs well emphasized- Although "in guid attire" they all were barefooted, carrying their shoes in their hands till arrival in town. What is sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander ; off went my shoes, but next day my feet were elegantly festooned with blisters. My Scotch tour didn't vary much, lots of practice but little money, and although a trip to Inverness was a scenic delight, still the management of tbe theatre was in the hands of proba^ily one of the coolest swindlers ever known. It is related of him that on one occasion the comedian ventured to remonstrate for lack of money. " Money is it, money you want, and the blackberries all ripe ?" I had a short season in towns like Auchtermuchty, Kirkaldy, Arbroath, Perth, and a few months in Dundee, where Mr. and Mrs. Chas. Kean, Everett, Cathcart, etc., came to big business, and a replenished exchequer, and being desirous of reaching nearer home, I accepted an engagement with Miss Marriott at a minor theatre in Liverpool. -.^-.--- -„. .. ._... _ _..^ .^..,. * i II /. ;• •■ »' • d apleoii. aitod on [0. It Ih ;ion from id court- asy chair .. Very )r (snuff) II waited, lin;^," we dded one ,iidiblo to der cattle lock over le buxom aces and phasized- ing their J for the t day ray but little ight, still ly one of that on 3f money. ?" Kirkaldy, and Mrs. 8, and a r home, I heatre in ." . ■ ' ■ • . " • . , •'•'.• ^.' /•■' ... * ".• •• • « ,1, y. '' ; t .* • —19— . Miss Marriott WHH undoubtedly one of the finest leading ladies ever on tlie Knglish stage, and at the period 1 allude to was in her prime, with T. C King as leading actor, and was then giving per- fornianceH which would bo a credit to the greatest artists. Her season at the ** Wells," London, was, despite the facts that she was handi- capped by the best natured but the most eccentric of husbands, wiiO always spoke of his wife as " Her," and followid in the wake of the immortal Plielps, was a success, and the Islingtoiiians swore by her. Her hu.sband at this period had leas'jd the theatre, and she was giving performances outrageously elongated, playini: probably "The Love Chase" and "Ettie Deans" with a farce sandwiched in, or "Hamlet" and a two act drama in one evening. A woman playing "Hamlet" seems incompatible, but her characterization of the woeful prince was perfection. She had all tlie tiaditions, a strong but musical voice, an elegant form, classic face, with an apt delivery of blank verso, and what is more, natural intellect. Years after this I met her in New York, in '01) I think, when she was only making a fair niiprension in the same role. Her husband, on our meeting in a strange land, was Overjoyed. "Have you seni her act. But the actors ain't loud enough, and what's the good of a comedian if he can't make them laugh '?" I went afterwards with them en route under the management of Captain Morton Price. Mr. Edgar, her husband, was supposed to take charge of the front of the theatre, but his English proclivities always remained and he would sacrifice business for them. I was enacting Polonius one evening when Miss Marriott said to me, " Bob is not on the door ; when you are killed endeavor to find him." After dressing I rushed out, peered into the saloons fruitlessly, but noting an under- ground pie shop I stumbled down the steps, and there was the custodian of our interests with a mug of beer and a pie composed of pork or other ingredients. In the most joyous of tones he exclaimed : " Sit down," pointing to the owner of the pie shop, " He's from Bolton (Lancashire)." He did not go back with mo to the theatre. This is drifting from the subject, England to America so revenoiis a nos montons. Whilst in Liverpool I essayed comedy parts in two to three plays nightly and became familiar with th ) nautical drama and having heard of our manager's abilities therein, I persuaded him to give the public a representation of a drama, the like of which I had t *• ' ■ « — 20- ' I!' :l|; never seen before, entitled " British Bull Dogs." He wa? the exponent ol a burly tar who cha^ved tobacco, loved a virtuous country maiden, and during the action of play knocked down and otherwise disabled serious villains, comic villains, hypocritical villains and aged villair^s by the dozen. Then after a bloodthirsty encounter, in which combat swords were used, and occasional double misses were made, varied by undertone remarks, such as " preams, pixes, cross, mind my fingers, eights," culminating in the overthrow of the ruffian and the entrance of two others with swords, who received the ponderous blows and were ultimately prostrated (all this to music), followed by the entrance of two more (supers,) who seized the Herculean tar, but were levelled to tha earth by dexterous right and left handers from his fists, and the further appearance of the comi.; villain who fell bodily defunct from a deadly missde taken from his mouth— a cud of tobacco. Eemember this was before Bider Haggard had written his description of Umposlogos. The audience applauded to the echo. However, during rehearsal of this play, Vihich "held the mirror up to nature" so closely, I ventured to ask the star for my part. Don't want any, said he, "Gag' (improvise) her. As rehearsal proceeded I fouiavl ^ was to be author as well as iictor, whicii. I think, I enjoyed more than the audience. During this same engagement I was mtro- duced to what might be denominated a minor theatre classic, viz : Maria Martin, or the murder in the Bed Barn, a dish of horrors with which it was supposed every actor was an fait. I never saw a book, but with the aid of others contributed my share of comedy to enliven the blood-thirsty strain, an 1 I also contributed a minor classic which I had adapted, entitled " A Voice from the Ocean," which, under many titles, has amused, if not charmed, the sons of toil in Lancashire and Yorkshire. Under the present working of the stage it would be impossible to find a company doing the same business and doing it as well as they did, viz : producing all the legitimate, such as Macbeth, Hamlet, Bichelieu, Bichard the Third, Lady of Lyons, Merchant of Venice, Lear, etc., alternated with School for Scandal and the Old Comedies, as weij as the Hunchback and the Sheridan Knowles School, commingled with Black Eyed Susan, Laid up in Port, and the sea drama, to which must be added as a zest all the Maddison Morton and other farces. This, it is true, gave the actor but little :t — 21 — WH? the 3 country otherwise and aged in which sre made, mind my 1 and the ous blows i by fche 1 tar, but ders from who fell -a cud of Titten his the echo. :ror up to fc. Don't oceeded I [ enjoyed vas mtro- ssic, viz : •rors with w a book, to enliven isic which ch, under ancashire would be oing it as Macbeth, [•chant of the Old Knowles Port, and Maddison but little time for amusement, but it added considerably to the consumption of midnight oil. I left Liverpool and its surroundings with regret, made a flying visit to Proud Preston, and, as our manager wished me to try it, took an engagement in the heart of the coal region — Wigan. The audi- ences in the collier district of Lancashire are not characteriv.ed by cul- ture, but they possess hoi'est and manly h^^arts beneath their rough exterior. I have seen the gallery pretty well crowded with ladies, who wore pantaloons— I should say trowsers —their nomenclature being " banks women," i.e., working at the pit's mouth unloading and ship- ping coal, yet their demeanour was not worse than olher females ; in fact, as far as attention went, it was better. My popularity was great amongst the colliers on and off the stage, as I never refused to wet my lips in their pot of beer, when requested in their vernacular to " Sup, lad, sup," and, furthermore, it was lengthened by an encounter with a rough miner. Stopping, after the performance, at the tavern desig- nated as " The Shakespeare," a miner, worse for liquor, endeavoured to pick a quarrel with me, which with policy I was trying to avoid, and would have done so had not his wife appeared upon the scene. Wishing to take the monster home, she pleaded with him and received a stinging blow. There is a conventional picture on the stage, which I now realized — that is, I threw the woman into the corner and landed two facers on the man, which drew blood. Mutual grip ensued, and the Lancashire lad commenced to purr me (in the language of the shire) with his boots. A short struggle — I had him on the floor — then lifting bin. bodily, blinded with anger, I placed him on the fire — it was an open fireplace. I need not say that he did not remain there, but slunk away after his wife, who had vai.ished in the melee. During my stay here I venture to recall one of many amusing incidents. There was a fair, and during these fairs the theatrical booth is an or- dinary visitor. I went one evening and witnessed a performance (slightly abbreviated) of Richard III. by a veritable hunchback— and a miner at that — -^ho gave a vigorous portrait of the character, which, divested of the grotesqueness inseparable to Lancashire dialect, would have given him rank as a tragedian of first grade. Despite several stellar features — amongst others Phelps — he was Lanky, too, who played " Man of the World," with his essay on — 22— booing, tbo management gradually looked up<>n salaries as a luxury, and finally came the day of collapse ; and as I was never very provi- dent, left rae in chaos as regards funds. My landlady was an aged widow. Amongst others I was the occupant of apartments in her house, the rental of which was her sole support. Coming home after theatre it was ever my custom to smoke a pipe, and nearly every even- ing I would find the widow, whose face bore innumerable v-^rinkles, smoking her pipe also in the fireplace. I would often sit down beside her and offer a pipe of my "bird's eye." Then she would make the customary queries regarding business, and then relate the untimely death of her hu-^band, who was suffocated in a mine with man., others of iiis calling. The story was repeated to me probably forty times, yet I always listened with genuine interest and good-nature — luckily for me, as proves the sequel. On the break up of the theatre I was short of funds. I was in debt. My trunk (anglice box) was there. I approached the landlady with fear and ^^rembling — told my story — said I could not pay her debt — and — there's my box, keep it. A tear stood in her eye. Said she : " Tak yer box ; ye werena proud ; ye smooked yer pipe mony a neet wi' me ; but them other play-folk mun leave their boxes ; they were proud ; they wudna smook wi' me," I thanked her ; told her I was going to Oldham, and said good-bye. " Hoo's ye geyn to Owdham ?" "Walk," said I. "Nay, lad, theer's five shillings ; ride and, stay thee, theer's thrippence for 'bacca on the way." It was the widow's mite, and I repaid it over again. Oldham had a theatre, the outside of which did nut boast of any arehiicuLurui uFanuy, n,uu the inside of which was as hard and com- fortless as cheapness could make it. It was at the period of which I write managed by twelve gentlemen of musical and other attainments, who were aptly styled the Twelve Apostles, and the business head thoroughly deserved the tit'.e of Judas lacariot. I talked till I was tired for an engagement, and by dint of persuasion, as they hud heard I bore a good repute as a dialectician, they gave me a week. I must say 1 passed as wretched a week as possible. I obtained lodg- ings — inferior at that. The reader must understand the average actor did not then affect hotels, but hired room.s, bought his own food, or allowed the landlady to do so, and either way baud it to her to be cooked. The amount of tea, sugar bread, &c., consumed did not de- m fi luxury, ry provi- au aged ^8 ill her )ine after ery even- vmnkles, vn beside nake the untimely n.. others by times, — luckily ;re I was as there. y story - A tear roud ; ye folk muii me," I ^ood-bye. i, theer's bacca on lin. st of any lud com- which I kinmeuts, less head lill I was they litid week. I led lodg- age actor food, or ler to be d not de- —23— pend upon your voracity, but the landlady's veracity. The leading mp.n, William Tullock, was a character. lie had mentally swallowed Shakespeare, Knowles, Lytton, Lovel, itc,, as far as his own line of business, or even secondary business, w^nt, and, in addition, knew every melodrama of the conventional type backwards. I was perso- nating "Country Boys " as a feature, and noted that they were going fiat in section s= I spoke regretfully to Mr. Tullock of the fact. "All right," says he, " I'll stir them up." He stalked on in various scenes with majestic strides, giving selections from Othello, Courier of Lyons, Massaniello and other heroes with vituperative gestures to the villain. The audience applauded like lunatics, but he helped the dramas, and that was enough. He was an admirable actor in some parts, and his familiarity with stage traditions ma'^e him invaluable in provincial theatres, the managers of which, however, did not fully recognize his work. This theatre was generally filled by regular en- thusiastic playgoers, but there was one undesirable innovation. If an actor did not please his audience, or was outrageously bad, he would probably receive a bouquet of pop bottles. I now made visits to all the Yorkshire and Lancashire towns, such as Bolton, Wakefield, &c., and having made a little money I leased the Burnley Theatre Royal, which did not succeed. On one occasion there I struck a religious cyclone, which completely para- lyzed my efforts. It was an advent of Revivalism. The better class of citizens sympathized with me and deplored that the excitement was ruining my business. There was a vast shed next door to the Theatre, which was crowded nightly with fervent believers and unbelievers. I was arguing the sincerity of the devotees with an actor, an Israelite, but the type of all that was good, just prior to our mutual commence- ment. The crowd vv^as jamming in next door to repletion, wLilst our solitary door-keepers kept watch and ward. "Hold back the curtain for a few minutes," he shouted to the stage manager. "Now come with me and I'll fetch them." He literally dragged me and himself into the vast concourse of religionists. They were just indulging in an opening hymn, which soon finished. Immediately my Jewish friend arose and with stentorian lungs shouted: "Ladies and gentle- men (pause— silence— then whispers, 'another convert!') I am her* to-night to inform you that the manager of the theatre (low murmur IHI —24— of disgust) has determined to open his house free (an ejaculated Ah !), and performance is just going to begin." YeU.— Bush ! I never witnessed such a wild stampede 10 the theatre doors, where the door- keepers presented their bodies to the advancing hosts with the magic word "Tickets!" The public at once penetrated the sell, and many of them, rather than go back crestfallen, deposited their money and became back- sliders. •ii|i 2 i • CHAPTER V. COTTONOPOLIS. Manchester Theatre Royal was at this period indulging in a brief run of " Faust and Marguerite," with, I believe, Waltor Montgomery as the " Mephistopheles," but for some reason unknown, the engage- ment was abbreviated. Having acquired a fair Lancashire dialect, and bearing a letter from a personal friend, I interviewed the great "Mogul" — Manager Knowles, who, on strong persuasion, gave me one week in " Ticket of Leave Man," and another in "Robin Wildbriar" in a comedy entitled " Extremes," unknown on this side, but yet remarkably effective. I was a new importation with but little locus standi professionally, and I noted, as most actors will, under such circumstances, a frigidity amongst my co-workers which did not abat;e one whit during rehearsal. I was directing my own scenes under stage manager's supervision. The heavy man tried to be obnoxious, and knowing that he was a popular actor in the city, I conceded to all his crotchety notio and stereotyped ideas, but at length patience ceased to be a virtue. I remonstrated, and insisted on my point. After some argument he appealed to the stage manager and threw his part upon the table. Mr. Knowles, the absolute manager, was the owner of marble quarries and other aids to wealth, but knew nothing of the stage, except from a pecuniary standpoint. He chanced to be in the wings. The stage manager stepped up to him and explained the casus belli, that is, as near as he could with the manager's utter ignorance of stage-craft. " He won't play the part, eh ? All right, set ;ed Ah !), I never he door- ift magic 1, rathei- ae back- 11 a brief tgoinery engage- dialect, he great e me one ildbriar" but yet tile locus der such not abate es under )noxious, led to all patience ay point, ad threw , was the nothing Bed to be ixplained jr's utter 'ight, set —25— another man on" — thinking that actors were as numerous as day laborers. I saw the heavy man wince, and knew from hearsay that his meaning and words were final and obvious. I advanced to Mr. Knowles and said quietly, " Excuse me, sir ; it's only a matter of petulance in business. He has played the part with another actor and our notions difier, but I will yield to him." " All right," said he, " You are a good natured lad ; I'll raise your wages." And he did. Speaking of my predecessor, Walter Montgomery, I might remark that he was not exactly of the calibre of which tragedians are made, but he was most artistic in his work. His assumption of the coolness which characterizes John Mildmay in " Still Waters Run Deep" was superior to that of the original, Alfred Wigau, whilst I have never seen "The Iron Chest" rise to the dignity of a good play except in his hands. I have heard actors slur at him as a " linen draper's shopman," but if so he had the ease, manner and heart of a gentleman, was an ardent lover of society and much sought after. I remember once when he was under my management at a small York- shire Theatre ea,gerly and nervously awaiting his coming at hour of performance, then the arrival of a carriage at the door with liveried servants and glittering coat of arms, out of which gracefully stepped the actor. Result — Good house. Poor fellow. He married. His wife was Wmetta Montague, a most beautiful woman. He onjoyed married life, if I remember rightly, two days, and then committed suicide. As a reader in his day none enjoyed a greater reputation, not even the Rev. E. M. Bellew, who was born to be an actor but J missed his calling and became a Reader. In this city for a few years I I have remembrances of going from pillar to post, having played at Barney Egan's *' The Queen's," also of changing my name and singing Lancashire songs and giving Ld. Waugh's dialect recitations at Langs, Dog and Duck, and other Music Halls. Poor Waugh, the Poet, had the genius and failings of Burns, and was to Lancashire what the Ayrshire Poet was to Scotland. For pure, rough, homely sentiment versified a finer exemplification could not be found. His "Come Whoam to the Childer and Me" I have recited, and seen tears fall from the eyes of those from whom, judging from their exterior and surroundings, none would deem sympathy existed. I first saw in Manchester " Henry Irving." The papers then said chat his —26— mannerisms rendered him totally unfit for an actor, and few would have imagined that he would ever fill the places occupied by Macready, Charles Kean or Phelps. I saw him recently in New York city when standing on Union Square. I, in a tone of banter, said to a friend, " There's my old pal, Irving," I will accost him. I did so, and spoKe of " Auld Lang Syne." He smiled with pecuHar emphasis. I looked him in the face, and reading his thoughts said quietly, " Oh, I don't want to borrow any money." He laughed outright and said, " Well, you're the first Englishman I've met here that did not— well no— not all— but some— but what can I do for jou ?" " Two tickets for the gallery." " Boxes," was the answer, "if you want them." " No, I want to see how time has changed you, and I'll be more at home above." I saw him play the " Merchant of Venice," and be- came fully satisfied that for stage-craft and artistic production of Shakespeare's plays he is facile princeps. CHAPTER VI- CIRCUITS. The days of "circuits" has passed, but the York circuit was, even in my memory, a glorious prelude to metropolitan fame, and from its teachings most of the greater lights have benefited. The York cir- cuit comprised Hull, York and Leeds. Then there were other cir. cuits, as Mr. Roxby's, a very punctilious manager, who controlled Scarboro, Shields, &c., and formerly a Southern circuit, &c. Roxby was a particular manager. No man could wear a moustache in his theatre, and a proper proviso, inasmuch as it is an incongruity with certain personages and periods intended to be represented. I passed what was probably the last season of the York circuit, and I believe John L. Pritchard was the last of the managers. He was a tall, classic- looking individual, who had a deep, bass voice and affected the ghost in Hamlet, etc. There was a little too much sameness in bis vocal register, which in " ghosts " might not be considered out of place, but with "Romeo " might be considered a little too sepulchral. In this —27— company I met an American of extravagant tendencies, who could carry out Hamlet's boast, " Nay, thou rantest I'll rant as well as thou," and who bore the sobriquet of " Stars and Stripes." My opening part in the circuit was Toby Twinkle, with J. F. Cathcart, of the Princess', as Stephen in " All that glitters," and then I had to sing between the pieces and finish with the farce of "Loan of a Lover." We changed plays frequently, but every night (as my repertoire of songs was very limited) I sang •' The Statty Fair," giving imitations, with an encore of "Barbara Allan," until the manager became dis- gusted with my absence of vocal variety and substituted between the plays a solo r'ancer — to my intense delight. I had two warm friends — one the second comedian and the other the prompter. The prompter had two characteristics. One was that he never could follow the text, and the other that he could write his name from the emanations of his knuckles or elsewhere, being a martyr to chalk gout. He was an in- veterate retailer of stage stories, and it was only a few weeks ago I saw one of his ancient jokes in Puck, fully illustrated; yet, although this story was worn threadbare, he would tell it so quaintly and embellish it so humorously that repetition did not pall upon us. Jhis is a curtailed version of one : Two actors out of luck, broken down, are walking to Worcester, and arrive en route at Gloucester. The shades of night are falling fast — no money — cold weather — no place to sleep— Aha, the theatre says one. They go there ; it is closed, but they crawl in through one of the windows and make for the stage. On stage bank and stage bier they prepare for slumber. It is dark as Erebus, and all is quiet in their gloomy retreat. The tragedian sleeps peacefully ; in fact, is snoring audibly ; comedian is cold and restless. He arises from his bier, ignites a lucifer match and gazes at the scene behind him, tech- nically called 0, cut wood. A shiver permeates his frame — goes up stage — Aha I I thought so — a dreary forest ! No wonder I was cold — then he drans together the two flats representing a chamber, gives grunt of satisfaction, returns to his bier and shortly after slumbers, dreaming of Gothic chambers and baronial halls. This may be de- nominated '• chestnut," but even the expression "chestnut" is a chest- nut. I saw an explanation of its derivation, but it was wrong — in part. The saying arose from a fpmous melodrama, "The Broken -28— Sword, or the Torrent of the Valley." Therein it occurs in course of dialogue. The old man is endeavouring to tell a story, in which he recurs to the fact that he was siitnig underneath a cork tree. Chestnut, interpolates the comedian. Cork. Chestnut, answers comedian. I ought to know ; 1 have heard this story forty times, and it always was a chestnut before. I think the latter line was a gag of mine. Any- way we actors of thirty odd years ago used it in its present accepta- tion. Unlike Hull, the theatre in York was small, so was the patronage. In Leeds it was gloomy, so were the audience ; but, then, Hull en- joyed the privilege of an extra transient support. We had played Star after Star, and were busily rehearsing the Christmas pantomime, and were getting a little wearied with our work, but the end came sooner than expected. After a dose of Winter's Tale and a farce I had retired to my attic bed-chamber, which was in a building abutting on the tiieatre (in fact, I could nearly reach across to my dressing room), when I awoke suddenly, seeing fire almost pouring into my face. I jumped into my garments, awoke my best friend, the come- dian and clown in perspective, in time to see the temple of Thespis, which had been the receptacle of so much joy and misery to the poor player, levelled to the earth. I looked blankly at my friend. He re- turned the same look. "The theatre is gone, I am so sorry," said I. "So am I," said he. Then suddenly, in tones of exaggerated quasi- sorrowfulness, he exclaimed : "Ureat Csesar, my new Blue Shape ( Shakespearian coat) is burnt to death." After the fire I never saw him more, bat I lead of his death some few years later. He was Boleno Marsh, the clown, and died at Sadler's Wells during the run of the pantomime. Cause, use of chemical flake white as a cosmetic paint, at least coroner's jury brought it in so. It may be from the use of these pamts, as in the case of G. L. Fox, who first suffered from paralysis of the facial muscles, and, again, grease paints, may be one of the factors which has placed so many actors in lunatic asylums. — Z9— CHAPTER VII. HOME AGAIN. After the Hull fire I felt somewbat discouraged, and a trip to Hamburg for two weeks in a concert garden with its German peculi- arities (although it is the most cosmopolitan city I have met) did not add to my love of the profession, so I wrote home to my father like the Prodigal Son, which I was, to all intents and purposes. I received a reply, "Come home." I went, was received into the fold once more, and commenced life anew in trade, and dropping the memories of Bob Acres, Tonv Lurapkiris and other creations, I turned by attention to pig iron (hematite and melters), puddled bars, sheet and boiler plate. But, like the tiger, I had tasted blood, and the comic muse was not dead but sleeping. Money with me was plentiful, and I became a kind of a dramatic Moecenas. I had a home, and all sorts and con- ditions of stage men and women found welcome. 1 became a chronic hahitue of the theatres, and if funds were lacking I was always ready with my purse to assist them. This was at Birmingham, and many were the happy dinners and Sunday reunions. During this per- iod I made friends wilh Buckstone, John Brougham, Swansborougb, Miss Glyn, and all the stellar lights. Whilst in company with genial people we would take a drag and drive over to Stratford-upon-Avon, the actors' Mecca. There I recall one Sabbath a glorious assemblage of actors and actresses with John Brougham as the chairman, when we lived one happy day. and listened with feelings of admiration to our genial chairman deliver an ode on the great poet, of which I re- member only the first couplet, " What shall his crown be ? Not the laurel which decks the warrior's brow," but the rest of which breathed poetry in every syllable. During my commercial career of some two or three years it was customary to spend my holidays with the actors. A comedian whom I almost loved, named Maskell, I would visit and back his enterprises at the summer resorts such as Devonport and Weymouth, where I also would act when necessary or when it was my humour. At Devonport we had as -30— good a company aH oiio would wish, amongst them being Mrs. Iiol)ert- Hoii (raotlier of Tom. Robertson, tho -luthor), lior daiightor Madge, now Mrs. Kendall, liessie llarduig, Sidney Bancrcift, and others. Wo pro. duced Konilwortii l)nrles(]ue for one special feature when the present female head of the dramatic world figured in the pristine delights of exaggerated verse, bad puns, song ami dance. Their salaries were low — very low — but they had to live through sununer, and the sea air was bracing and it was ii real gain in health and pocket. Actors' uecessitie;-: know no law. As I once remarked to a parish priest who had hiterdicted and forbidden his people to visit us during Lent, " Father, it may be religiously and radically wrong to give perform- ances in Lent, but remember, oh pater, the actors must have money to buy fish." Again, I would sometimes assist managers in their etibrts and sometimes burnt my lingers. " The Lyceum Theatre Co'y," of London, I titled over a financial crisis, and amongst them were Widdi- comb (a comedian pur excellence), John Broughan, Mrs. Brougham, Mrs. Honnor, who had been the original Susan in "Black-eyed Susan," Maclntyre, for whom I embodied an adaptation of Dickens' •'Mutual Friend," and who iifterwnrds made a hit in London in the character. I also made a pilgrimage with two distinguished amateurs for a few nights, viz: Capt. Disney Roebuck and Montague Williams, (now the most respected Police Magistrate in the city of London), playing •' Honeymoon" and '* Retribution." My first view of EastLynne was about this time, when I saw Miss Avonia Jones, an American actress, essay the lachrymose role. The piece failed owing to bad construction and too frequent appeals to the deity. Another American, Miss Mac- ready, appeared, and I assiated in the production of a miserable melo- drama entitled " The Child Stealer," which Miss Lucille Western after- wards played and gave as fine an exhibition of a drunken woman as could be conceived, which recalls also a memory of an earlier date, viz: " Adah Isaacs Menken." I hB.ve retrospective vision of a mag- nificent female upon the head of whom was a hat to which the present head-dress is baby-like in proportion, flowing garments, and a carriage and pair with sleigh bells (rather an anomaly) upon the horses, which drew more attention than a circus. Her Mazcppa was the success of the hour, yet, being honored with an introduction to her, I may safely say it was not her talent but her personal charms, her beautiful figure ;, •.■ . c; —31— and inagnet'c mauuer that allured wiser men than I, such as Dickens, DumaH, &c. Since that time I have enacted with many Mazeppas, Kate Fisiier, Leo Hudson. Fanny Louise Bnckingiuim, Bob Miles and many others. For several weeks John Brouf^ham lived at my house during an attack of gout, and wrote during that period a drama entitled "The Iron Town." The plot had a suspicion of a drama I saw at the " Porte St. Martin." It was placed under rehearsal, but in a fit of petulance the actor author tore it into fragments and threw it upon the stage. I heard afterwards that the property man gathered up the fragments, fixed it together, sume time after sold it, and the play is now doing duty under some sensational title on the road. Some of his productions have the ring of legitimate comedy, notably " Playing With Fire," " Flies in the Web," etc If, as Dr. Johnson says, the man who will make a pun will pick a pocket, then John Brougham's burle.sqne of " Pocahontas" would convict him as chief of pickpockets. His speeches between the acts were a feature in New York and elsewhere, and they were delivered in a manner giving the idea that they were extempore, but not so. They were sparkling with native wit and were the result of study — and that study was to cover the fact that they were studied. Poor John, he died in New York some eight years ago. 1 was a day too late for his funeral. Another of my personal friends was "Charles Dillon," No actor I have as yet seen had the emotional power of this man. although the ablest critics said he lacked in intellectual gifts. In his "Belphegor" I have seen audiences, male and female, give vent to tears, and yet the dramatic vehicle used by him was barren of literary merit. As the deserted liusband — his grief from the moment of half bewildered apprehension of the loss of his wife to the full agony of its realization, was not only rendered with force but with most delicate and subtle touches. As he makes his exit from his abandoned room, with sunken frame, feeble of limb, with the semblance of mute drapair upon his face, yet divested of violence, he showed the finest traits of tragic intensity. There was one peculiarity in this actor's performance of this play that you could count on people seeing it, not only once but thrice or more. He was not so happy in the greater creations of Shakespeare, although his "Hamlet" had novel innovations which pleaHed tlio public. In elmractera calling for raanly pathos he never }in(l a superior, as witDoss liis impersonation of the J'lnglish vooman in a " Hard HtrufjKl*'-" Ho died poor in IHrtO. During tiiis period of liappiness I liad the misfortune to lose liira who had been tlie !uost indulgent of fathers. Shortly after my business afTaira became involved, owing to the collapse of a big banking institution, so casting commerce to the four winds of heaven 1 determined for the future to cast my fortunes once more with tlie Players, for which former asso- ciations had given me a predilection. CHAPTF.B VIII. MANAGING IN ENGLAND. Walking up the Strand, after an enforced holiday, as I was un- certain as to future, I met an old friend, Belford. of the Strand Theatre, to whom I confided my position. He then informed me that a manager, named Thorne (father of Tom Tliorne, Sarah, and a long list of other Thornes), was desirous of letting his theatre in Margate (the cockney's favorite watering place), and, taking his advice, I wrote to him and became the lessee of the Theatre Koyal. It was as pleasant a summer as could reasonably be desired. I owned a donkey, had vested rights in a bathing machine (why don't they introduce them in America ?) and, to add to my delight, had an agreeable rfrrtwwfis persona:, besides the society of many friends, such as Talfourd, son of the ai:thor of Ion, and many other congenial cele- brities, who made Mt!,; j'.ate, Broadstairs and Ramsgate their summer homes. In that little theatre, on Addington street, appeared many stellar features, including Barry Sullivan, fresh from the antipodes, John L. Toole, who had with him as an advertising medium his brother, "Toole the Toastmaster," he of the stentorian lungs; also the pet of the music halls, J. G. Forde, whose forte was an invention of his own called "Patter Vocalism," in which he was undoubtedly funny. I had opposition, to be sure, for there was the "Hall by the Sea," where ^Lovy, \vr htsli * one in calamil which. My wi He woi Iconceri [Then Iher, ai: haiidec [gallery fiiurse ( [the eve pis ap Londo [Like B the fla butt of one pi( of the mastei rehear " quer of chil( Hodge Some Marga thing this wl] Uolo 01 [was a I Mike I •ffrora actor. sum f Shak( . ^ • Ii(wy, tlio cornettiHt, and otlier features a{)p(Mirofl iii^'htly, l)Ut Htill wo held our own. Our [)atronH woro, some of thoin, very peculiar — one in piirticular, an agod East Indian nabol), wlio had some eiilainity with his jaw, or roof of his mouth, I don't know winch, hut it necessitated the constant attendance of a nurse. My wife was then a j^rcat favourite with him as an actress,. He would invite us to dinners, which were silent as far as he was (concerned, and when 1 put up her name for a benefit ho sent for n)o. Then the nurse askeu mo the capacity of tho upper boxes. I told her, and then awaited with surprise tho old man's proceedings —he handed me a cIhmhk; for tho full amount. Wlien the night camo gallery and rest of house were full, but only one solitary man and his nurse stalked around the upper boxes. He had bought that tier for the evening and not a soul would ho allow to enter- -thus showing his appreciation. Hodge, a name that used to figure on all the London gin palaces — Hodge's gin -was another peculiar figure. Like Royalty one could tell when he was at home on the terrace, as the flag would be hoisted. He spent money liberally and was the sly butt of the townspeople, who often practised jokes at his expense. At one picnic the school children enjoyed his hospitality, and the donor of the feast made a speech eulogistic of himself, after which a school- master delivered an address of thanks. He had instructed and rehearsed the little ones to repeat the name of Mr. Hodges— at all his "queries." Who is the greatest man in Margate? Ycdling chorus of children, " Mr. Hodges." Whose liberality do wo now enjoy ? " Mr. Hodges." Who deserves our cheers ? Da capo, " Mr. Hodges." Pause. Some wit from the outside shouted. Who is the biggest fool iu Margate ? Forte chorus from children, " Mr. Hodges." Every- thing that he did was of this ostentatious character. He paid for his whistle and occasionally for a benefit, ho would play en amateur a solo on the flute to the delight o'. a guying audience. And then there was a gala day, or rather two days, the Margate races, which brought Mike (Toodraan, the betting man, to the front. He was a gentleman from Jerusalem (Petticoat Lane), who had an idoa that he was an actor. He bought the house from me for one ni'j;ht at an enormous sum for the express purpose of exhibiting his talents in the "Jew that Shakespeare drew" — " Sbylock." An immense house ensued. For • . • ••• Jt ' . • • - • •. .:. ' -—34— •' "■■ „■ ',. ' ■'■• ■ the character of Tuabal, the other Jew, I had arranged a double, as I expected another actor whom I had engaged would not arrive on time, anyway to rehearse. His name was Daniels. He arrived just in time to appear, made his entrance to the star, who gazi d a moment in wonder, then in audible tones exclaimed, " Another Sheeny." The play was guyed throughout, and, during the trial scene Mike, who kept on undisturbed, was cheered on by betting men, who, m the cries of the fraternity, shouted, " Five to one on Mike." "Bar one." "Get on to the scales." " Where's the Pig-skin," etc., etc., terminating ni a rather abrupt full of the curtain. After all was over the star never grumbled, but jingled his bright sovereigns in his pocket, and with them for a consolation he never sighed after the Shakespearian pound of flesh. I had a pmail source of income in this theatre from talented amateurs. There was in the Metropolis a dramatic agent named Danvers, a small comedian with the largest of families, who 'ivould occasionally forward me amateurs with this kind of message : " Enclosed find pounds. Give bearer a chance. If useful keep her and pay her small salary; if useless, discharge." In this and other manner appeared for first time in this dingy theatre various individuals who have since imparted lustre to the stage, amongst them Miss Eveleigh— also Miss (then) Lilian Neilson, (since Adelaide Neilson), whom I afterwards saw in the "Huguenot Captain" and later on as "Juliet")— Miss Weathersby and others. I have an indistinct remembiance of one aged fairy, who was angular, thin, wiry in voice tone and figure, who informed me that she was desirous of playing a few nights to familiarize her with the stage. I thought one would be more than enough, but with policy told her that I was afraid it was impossible, as our engat^'ements were numerous. She was pertinaciously determmed. I then artfully explained that money might bridge over the difficulty, and named a sum sufficient, as I thought, to dampen her ardour. Tont au contrnire. She never hesi- tated, but said money would be forthcoming, and so it was. After considerable persuasion she was mduced to play "Loan of a Lover" instead of " The Honeymoon," which she aspired to. We rehearsed three days, and inwardly I chuckled. At night, attired in the gar- ments of a Dutch peasant, and endeavoring to put on the vraisem- blance of youth, she trotted down to the footlights. The gallery t in this • • ■ •'-■ • ■■■'■■■■ ■■' —35— .,■-.••>:, Ki<^'g!e(l, 1)UL tlioy bore it. She twistod, twirled, ogled aud flirted, (Mi'h'Hvoring, as Yankees say, to be " cute," but when she commenced her soijg, ''■■■:.:■: " I don't think I'm ugly — I'm only just twenty," a stentorian voice from the gallery yelled, " Get off; you're eighty if you're n day," and thus abruptly terminated the performance. These are the people from whom tricky agents make occasional harvests. There aro always fominino and masculine zealots of all ages who ars ready to sacrifice their purses to their van- ty, and for whom ridicule is the sole cure. Still my summer season was a success, and I left this, which is one of the prettiest sea-coasts of England, with poignant feeijnys nf regret. CHAPTEU IX. MANY CHANGES. After leaving Margate I had the pleasure of meeting Dion Bf)uci- cault, the greatest master of stage effect of his time, and was engaged by him for a short season of Irish drama in Dublin. He was not only an .ulrairable comedian, but linguist, manager and author. As the latter he has been denounced as a pirate, and was mercilessly scMthed on occasions by the critics. However, I t)btained his hearty recognjti'ju by an article I contributed to a magazine, in which, after defending his undoubted skill as a dramat'st, I ventured to add that like his great iredecessor, Shakespeare, "quod tetigit ornavit," and that in a lik-' degree the greatest, of our dramatists had been indebted to others for many of his plots and yet no one dared to asperse his genius. "Colleen Bawn," founded on Gerald Griffin's story of "The Collegians," fell flat as a stag" production, but th'3 facile pen of I>onci- cault made it almost a classic and saved the fortunes of many a manager. The same might be said of almost all his productions. Their foundation was patent, but he put the life into thorn, and they ■ .v.. ■■• • -36- still live. To Loiulou Assuraiico. (which others claim) he had infused most of the spirit. "Arrah ua Pogne," "Formosa," "After Dark," ''Griraaldi." (in which as a French emii/re his dialect was perfection and acting delicious,) "Octoroon," and many other.'^, are evidences of his skill, and no one who has witnessed his acting can forget an "Irish- man," which was not an exaggeration, but had the savour of his native bog. In all his writings there is a simplicity and approach to nature, whilst his conception of character was uni(iue. as witness "Old Nat Goshng," and the betting fraternity in "Flying Scud." They are o truth " the chronicles and brief abstract of their time." Some of the readers of this may remember the Strand Theatre, London, where I played an engagement, brief as it was, with Mrs. Swanborough. The Swanboroughs were an elegant and intellectual family, if we kindlj except the old lady (the father committed sui- cide), but she was a woman with a big heart, whose malapropoisrns in real life were numerous. On dit that she informed the equeuv .e Prince of Wales on one occasion that she had built a spinal staircase specially to the royal box. Miss, par excellence, Swanborough was in her day a most ladylike, magnetic actress, and her sister-in-law was a pretty and fascinating lady, whilst in their company were Elise Holt and others of the burlesque school, and the comedy element in this Bandbox was always strong. Who can forget Rogers, the eccen- tric comedian, kind, charitable and beloved by all. Poor fellow ! He suffered much, and his last words on earth were, like himself, full of character : "Thank heaven, the little raffle is over." Then there was Jimmy Stoyle, a diminutive man with a bass voice, whose peculiarities off the stage were hunting old curiosity shops for Van Dykes and Rem- brandts, and who would go 500 miles to wade for brook trout, and William and Arthur Swanborough, princes of good fellows. This was the home of burlesque. A short time prior to this I had visited Ber- mingham with the greatest actor to my poor idea who ever hved, and to whom, if any one ever deserved the title, should be prefixed "Origi- nal" in big type. He conceived a new school, invented a new style, and permeated it with his own identity. Poor Fred Robson ' His short stature had forbidden his assumption of tragedy, for which he was pre-eminently adapted. So his tragic powers were brought into use as a comedian. His wonderful transitions from the highest tra, -37- ■r > -v:* gedy to low comedy were the " one step from the sublime to the ri- diculous," and thus he founded a new school, "The Robsonian," which, although Toole and others have endeavoured to imitate, they but do so weakly. In "Medea " his horrible earnestness and tragic delivery of one episode, "The way the cat jumps upon the unsuspect- ing mouse," the descriptive acting of the speech as he proceeds, and when one is almost appalled by his terribly graphic recital, the sud- den comic finish of " scrunches and eats him " gained him the ap- plause of the queen of tragedy, Ristori, of whom he was then the bur- lesque imitator. His " Yellow Dwarf," "Mazeppa," and all the travestied creations had this characteristic. But in assumptions of modern lifi, he was equally as earnest. In " Porter's Knot," "Daddy Hardacre," et hoc genus onnie, there was the same blendmg of pathos and bathos, which caught mingled tears and honest laughter, and yet I have seen audiences roar at his farces, of which there has never yet been a counterpart. Poor fellow, he died when only 48 years old, at, I think, the end of 1804. If I remember rightly, the modern Miss Farren was also in his company at the Olympic, and, as far as I can remember her, even then played in a jaunty, easy, captivating manner. I was in little later days a friend of Robson's son, who was a fair co- median, but of whose future I never knew, and at the same time met Bob Raynham, the original "Sam" in "Ticket-of-Leave," and Henry Neville, then a London favourite, and one whose fame time has not yet dimmed, and Miss Terry, not forgetting also Lydia Thompson, whose dancing and chic m "Magic Toys," were delighting all London. About this time I became a scribe for Entracte and other papers, and visited in course of time most of the theatres from Her Majesty's to the "Royal Dusthole," which latter was budding into unforseen glories as Marie Wilton's (Mrs. Bancroft), and witnessed the triumphs oi the Robertsonian period, "Caste," "Ours," "Society M.P.," &c., and many a happy night have we spent at the Somerset, Strand with poor George Honey, a comedian who was, if one may use the term, a cre- ator, inasmuch as he could invent business and gag with the best of them, and W. J. Florence, beloved in two hemispheres, and all the bou ton in dramatic art. The next time I saw Florence was in New York, when Wallack and he were litigating over the rights to "Caste," and when Florence swore that he played the piece from memory, thus -38- evading Wallack'b claim. I could not help remnrldiig "Lonl keep thy memory green." I had omitted to mention that it \va< aKso my priviitge to accom- pany E. L. Bothorn on his tour to Paris, wliich |n'.)Vod a disas- trous failure, but I lind the opportunity of visitirjf^ tiie Acadeniie Francaise, Porte St. Martin, ar.d othtr thentreH, ^'iving me a brief insight into French methods, although they do not vary to my eye much from our own. Sotheru's "Dundreiry" was always ultra farcical to my thinking. I preferred hi.-* " I) ivid Gari'ick," for it possessed an admixture of tragedy and comedy, and although droll and effective in the scene in which he endeavors to take oif the enchant- ment of the stage by assuming the excesses of a drunkard, yet there was real feeling in his sense of the humiliation ho inflicts upon him- self to save the girl who loves him. His acting in all ho did else was that of an eccentric humorist, and off the stage his weakness was to be thought of a similar character. One anecdote, which may t»e familiar, but is true, I venture to give. He visited a tiouri'^hnig undertaker and gave an order on the most elaborate scale for all that was necessary for a funeral. The undertaker's preparations had not gone far before he reapi)eared with groat earnestness to enquire as to their progression, and after a brief interval renppeared with anxiety depicted on his face to enquire when he could have pos.session of the body ? The undertaker was naturally bewildered. Of course you provide the body, said the comedian, endeavoring to enlighten him. " The body," gulped out the amazed undertaker. Why, do you not say, said 8othern, exhibiting the card of the .shop, " All things necessary for funerals amply supplied." I do. " Well, is not a body the first thing necessary ?" This was a typo of his peculiar humor which loved to bring into startling juxtaposition the grave and grotesque. He died in '81. His son. E. L., who possessed a great deal of his father's ability, I believe died some six years later, whilst another son has some of the father's attributes and is success- ful in America in " The Highest Bidder," etc. I could dilate on the attractions of my London homo and the amusement experiences of the Music Halls, which at this time were launching into prominence with memories of " Stead the Cure," Mackney, who was great in negroes, but his negro was a cockney negro, Sam Cowell, the fouiid- M: -39— ers of comic singers, Hoss, the type of a cockney tliief, and last and least in stature little James Taylor, who sent out a challenge for the championship of comic singers. His vocal portraits of exaggerated Yorkshiremen. silly boys, old women, etc., have been the foundation of the school of entertainers. 1 was restless, and wishing to try fresh field and pastures new, I packed my valise and a calcium ap- paratus of gigantic dimensions with a view of embarking with a sea (laptain, an old friend of mine, to the sunny south, which was then in the height of conflict. The calcium I clutig pertinaciously to for some years. My friend, Edward Gomersal, for whose advantage I used it last at the Boston Theatre in the " Naiad Queen," and where a fairy inadvertently stepped upon the rubber tube, thus annihilating the moon and all the lunar affects. Gomersal afterwards lent it to the theatre comique on Washington Street, where it was burnt with the theatre a little after, but as the Panorama lecturer would remark, " Now for America." CHAPTER X. COMEDY CONTRASTS. I would in this chapter, by kind permission of my readers, delay my voyage across the Atlantic by giving an idea of the method of the great comedians who existed at this period, and whose names were then familiar as household words. This, of course, is in the retro- spective vein, so anticipating time I will give, as it were, a contrast of the representative comedians then and their followers at the present time. English comedy, is de facto American comedy also, for the legitimate standard comedies have generally had a local habitation and a home in New York, and the present school of comedy affected by the Frohmans and others is but a reflex of it, so having a personal idea of the cnaracteristics of the acknowledged heads of their art, I will proceed to illustrate. —40— Buckstone, whose society was a pleasure tc me, although we did not meet until deafness assaileJ him, (that malady did not af- fect his humour), and Compton were both of the Haymnrkct. Keeley, always to the public "Little Keeley," Harley and Fred llobson make a quintette, and their methods were so apparent that one could see how they never failed to reach the desired results -laughter. Yet they did this by utterly different means, a-t the same character pour- trayed by these actors would be dehneated in a totally different manner. Buckstone's humour was loud and demonstrative. Prior to hia entrance you would generally hear a drawling, almost nasal, voice making some ordinary exclamation, and then would bustle upon the stage a round, plump body, with chubby face, salient with good hu- mour, seeming to say "I'm here and I'm going to make you laugh," and here you have his method. He took his audience into his confi- dence, appealed to them with comic grimace and gesture, added to furtive nods and winks. The character was always subservient to his purpose. He was always Buckstone, and the public did not wish him to be other. There was no boundary line between comedy and farce. Nature had fitted him with a plastic face, with mouth always on the alert for a grin, which could readily depict drollery, cunning or shrewdness at will. Tout an contraire Compton. His humour waa neither unctuous nor spontaneous, but rather dry and somewhat forced. Like his co-mate his individuality intruded, but his concep- tion of charac er was more suggestive. His comedy had no exuber- ance, but it combined unconscious eccentricity with self-satisfied sto- lidity. In Shakespearian clowns he was at his best. The first grave- digger in Hamlet in his hands has never had a counterpart. His grave precision when laying down the law, and his humorous grim- ness in propounding the riddle, "Who is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the sliipright, or the carpenter," was only excelled by the elaborate air of superiority with which he rates his assistant for his dullness. His was the incarnation of a fellow to whom Yorick's skull and dead men's bones "custom had made a property of easiness. The disposition he displayed was that of a man who seemed to thrive better with stoups of liquor, mingled with the savour of mortality, Toe'cy \vas unique. Here was a comedian who was not comic. No v/a' n we did not af- Keeley, make uld see Yet r pour- ifferent .1, to his voice pon the ood bu- laugh," s confi- ,dded to vieut to lot wish edy and 1 always cunning lour was )mewhat concep- exuber- fted sto- it grave- rt. His IS griiD- jer than excelled itant for i''orickN siness.' o thrive ortality, ic. Nu —41— other man ever caused so much mirth with so little effort. He was the vis inertur of comedy — all he had was impassibility and a phleg- matic manner. Take "Ijondon Assurance " as a sample. His plia- bility and utter concession to his wife, Lady Gay, was that of a docile child to his mamma, and self-will seemed so much a stranger that one would not have been surprised to hear him cry to be carried. His personnel was a study — stature short, very short, immobile face, bear- ing a look of Christian resignation, which was, however, non -suited by a decidedly out of proportion Boman nose. Of course, under these circumstai^ces, sameness was a necessity, but it was the sameness of comic drollery, which could and was, varied by the author's skill. When first introduced to Harley he was at the Princess'. This was a comedian who had not a single characteristic of the others. His impersonations bore the impress of gaiety, wit, vivacity, to which was added a very decided leaning to facial expression. His acting, although occasionally overdone, gave the audience one impression, viz., that of self-enjoyment, which to spectators became contagious. The critics invariably spoke of him as bordering on extravagance, yet his "Touchstone" was quaint with the true Hhakesperian flavour, and his ** Bottom " in " Midsummer Night's Dream " obtained Charles Kean's heartiest endorsation. Fred Robson, of whose attributes we have before spoken, was the comic genius of his time, and still his comedy ditfered from all others, inasmuch as his was the comedy of tragedy. He could draw tears from the poorest material, and his greatest efforts were achieved when depicting the mingled joys and sorrows in the humble walks of life. It was tragedy leavened with comedy, and even in burlesque his transitions from the grandest perorations to the most commonplace climax were the perfection of art. Then his local colouring was perfect, even in farces like " Hush Money," "Boots at the Swan," &c. These were the masters of their art, although one might be added in Wright, who, however, was al- ways spoken of as a firm — Wright and Bedford. He was a comedian who might be termed funny. For character painting he had little netd, although some of his impersonations were stamped by nature, such as "Cheap .John," " Haunted Man," and several others of the Adelphi drama. His was occasional buffoonery, marred by broadness, but no comedian was more beloved, in a theatre, which had for pre- —42— siding geniuses, Benjamin Webster, who was one of the finest of artists ; 0. Smith, founder ot the conventional School of Villain ; Madame Celeste, an anomaly in some respects, as she gave her portraits with French dialect, but always picturesque, earnest and attractive ; and, last not least, queens of comedy. Miss Woolgar and Mrs. Fitzwilliam. The comedians of the present day have not improved upon the teachings of these philosophers of laughter, and in all their followers there is apparent the same methods — if anything in a more diminished form. Even Mr. Toole, who is recognizedas the successor of these great men in " Cockaigne," has not shown the peculiar delicacy of wit which characterized the humor of his predecessors. His comedy is broad and farcical, and his chief reliance has been the repetition of some gag line, as *' Oh it does make me so wild," which he interpo- lates sometimes ad nauseam, whilst in the serio-comic line, which he copies from Roboou, one must necessarily admit that the mantle of that immortal ^'emus has not fallen upon him. Thome and James have reminiscences of Wright in their treatment, but of the present race of comedians, circumstances have made their existence as representative in art more difficult. In America the nearest approach to these representative comedians is found in James Lewis, who never altogether sacrifices the character but who endeavors to give the comic idiosyncracies of human nature, and never descends to that buffoonery which is sometimes called farce comedy. Formerly it was called horse play. Did that designation arise from " grinning through a horse collar ?" Mr. Jefferson, in a similar degree, is not a farceur, but he depicts the lights and shades of genuine comedy with an ease and absence of effort which constant familiarity with the stage has made the semblance of reality. Buckstone and Jefferson made "Lend Me Five Shillings" a laughmg success, but the work of these two humorists in the same play differs as night and day, yet each rendition was in a like degree the cnibodimeut of fun. I cannot call to mind another actor, not even " Stuart Robsou," a most clever comedian, who does not rely on personal peculiarities more than realization of character. Of course these are comedians who have made enormous successes, such as Emmett, Samuel of Posen, Ole Oleson, etc., but these are not what might be designated legitimate comedians. artists ; Madame .its with ; and, William. pon the bl lowers ninished se great ^ of wit :)mcdy is tition of interpo- vhich he Qantle of James i present tence as approach /ho never he comic uffoonery as called irough a , farceur, 1 an ease itage has 3e "Lend hese two rendition I to mind omediau, zation of normous etc., hut —43— CHAPTER XI. AMERICA. My first iin])ressioii of Anivrica was taken from a very indifferent stiiiidpoint, Wilmington, N.C, as that city is not built on architectural lines, and the climate is as varuihle as a woman in love. As this is mcroly a series of somewhat disconnected dramatic memories, we will call a vacuum here, making as it were an ujidisclosfnl interregnum, a:id hasten on hy immediate stage to the stage of Kiohmond, Va., and a few of its reminiscences. Richmond, as I saw her then, was a sleepy looking country town as far as business went, but taken from the point of view of nature, as beautiful a city of hills with diversified scenery as any artist could long for. Times have changed its aspect, and now tiiere is a resem- blance of Birmingham or Pittsburgli. Then we had the old-fashioned type of a southern hotel, the Powhattan, wliilsl the Spotswood was the nucleus of a new era. The latter recalls memories of dread fire atid disaster, whilst the latter has given way to the march of improvement. Mrs. IMagill, who only died a short year ago, was the representative of Richmond managerial cares for many years, and besidts being a handsome woman was shrewd and business-like. There \a conjured up memories of the Partington sisters, one of whom was, as ; dancer, the perfection of grace, and another of whom (now living) has drifted into the antics of Topsy, and D'Orsay Ogden, who thought he could do justice to Macbeth (an opinion unfortunately not shared by the public), and Mrs. Leary, a sister of Mrs. Magill, a woma>i of gigan- tic stature, who was always kind and generous, and who, after dress- ing hundreds of dramatic aspirants, has found comfort in religion. Then, at a later date, I see visions of Anna Levering, who is still " in the fleslj,'' a fine sample of womanhood, and W. S. Higgins, wlio at a later date was yclept " tack iiammer," as it was said he carried one of those weapons, and armed therewith would sally forth accompanied by a few handbills to capture the opening of small halls, whilst later on Marsden, the author of Clouds, &c., was essaying, with but small suc- cess, to act. Poor fellow ; as a dramatist years later he became rich, but through the imagination that his daughter was going to the bad, beimj of an ult'-a sensitive nature, he committed suicide. Then who —44— can forget Will Otis, who allecteil the Lord Dundreary line of business, and who boasted of a collection of thirty pairs of pantaloons, each of which bore a cognomen, such as " Moonlight on the Lake," " Shimmer of the Morning," "In the Oloamnig," etc. He was a favorite of Laura Keene's, and a thoroughly manly fellow withal, and on (lit that he in- variably said a short prayer at the wings on making his first entrance. It was there I first saw " Charlotte Thompson," daughter of Lysander, the dialectician, and with whom my son made his first appearance in •' East Lynno." The boy knew his lines but did not wish to go on and commenced to cry. The application of my boot landed him with howls at Miss Thompson's feet, but he suddenly recovered and went on with the performance until the bed scene, when with tones of mingled disgust and ultra bass he growled out, " Madame Vine, when shall I die ?" which caught a laugh that was increased still further by his sticking out a pair of high boots from underneath the sheets. I played for the first time in America in that theatre Caste (Eccles) — Dora — (Farmer Allan) and the comedy roles in Robertson's productions. Three years after the war I returned to Richmond and leased the Vir- ginia Hall to which I gave the name of the Bijou Theatre (first of the name, but since industriously copied) and tried to run the same as a stock theatre. We had a line on the bill, " no niggers admitted." The nomen- clature is changed to colonKl people now-a-days. Our efforts failed, and those who had promised me help and patronage were conspicuous by their absence, so after a short season, jaundiced and disgusted, I one evening appeared before the curtain and delivered myself thus : •• Ladies and Gentlemen, — As a manager here I am a failure. I have been promised all sorts of help and it has not come. I may say in addition that, on this occasion I have been three months with you and have heard nothing but boasts of southern chivalry, but I have hunted in every hole and corner of Richmond and — and I can't find it." This brought down the house, and I left town. I have visited the city several times since, with the Holiuan Opera Co., Alice Gates, and my own company, and they have always remembered me kindly ; the press have never Tiiled to give me their suffrages— and they have even gone so far as to head the preliminary notice of my arrival with the magic words, "Hurrah for Dixie." .,-;.,: ;-::;;^',^;; :-_;■:-/'■■ •.'■-45- '•^'^'^ v., ■■:::;;-. CIIAI'TKJ! Ml. ' UNCLE TOM— EDWIN EORREST. Shortly after tlic war 1 left Kiclimoiid for Norfolk, and pluyeil two weeks with George Kunkcl, who since became known as the Uncle 'J'om, but cash was sliort and 1 took boat for the actors' mart, New York, and landed there with about five cents. An actor's life is very varied, but it grows monotonous in some respects, although his experience may vary between New York, lioston, Philadelphui, Cincinnati, and the great West. 1 was debating in New York as to futurity, when by ciiance I met at an actors' resort tlie originators of what has proved the salvation of many struggling managers, and which has made more actors than any other medium. I mean Mr. G. C. Howard, whose wife was the original Topsy. There may be Topsy, or double Topsys, but this was the Topsy that Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe drew. I have enacted in that fearfullv incongruous drama most of the males. 1 drew upon myself the anger of the star by being the first to introduce the present imbecile characteristics of Ma;ks. I have vainly therein endeavored to portray successfully two mdividuals with two dialects— Cute (Yankee), Phineas (Kentucky) — and have made Uncle Tom too humorous to the annovance of several managers. In Cincinnati, when playing the usual d( able. 1 took a walk after rehearsal over the bridge to Covington, Kentucky. Ken- tucky, here was the dialect I was hunting for. I saw the m'i.nager coming in the opposite direction. Here was my chance ; out went my tongue. The manager met me, looked thunderstruck, thinking 1 was insane, and in the blandest tones enquired, " Lindley, what on earth is the matter?" " Hush," I replied, " Don't stop me, I am catching Kentucky dialect." In this same company was Tom Keene, the tragedian, then a young and boisterous but good- hearted fellow, and John Nunan and Mrs. Thos. Donelly. As stage m^inager I allowed Mrs. D., who was playing Aunt Ophelia, to sing " Away Down in Maine," when Mr. Howard came to ra<> with horrified look and exclaimed, " Sing a song in Oi)helia — It will be said Mrs. Howard allowed it and will be taken for a precedent." What a change to present times when dogs, shouters, jubilee singers, double Evas and other impossibilities are thrown in pell mell. The duties of a stage niiiiiapcM- wcH! all inip(»vtuiit in tlifsc dnys. liis will Ihmtik law, and a kMowl»'(lfr(( of tho ordinary i nn of Ic^ifitiiuiilo and other plays was abHolutely aoceHsary. Now, with the oxcoption of a fi;w Htock thoatres, his vocation is almost on the level of a stai^o carpenter. Some of thoso rrentlcnien nilod with an iron hand, and 1 call to mind when the use and ulxise of linen was an ordinary occurrence. ThcrH was one of that ilk in Aihany, N.Y., whose dictnm was in case of Hlij,htest negligenc(s '• l''ine him " or lier as the case may be. On oiio occasion sickness was vorv rife. He got soured on many changes, and at last it wan "Fine him, this sickness has got to be stopped." One morning at rtdumrsal tho prompter camo with sorrowful face and said, " Mr. So-and-So, an important actor, is deud." " Dead," said tlie irritable manjiger, " Fine him, this dying has got to be stopped." JUit to return to the Howards. Mrs. llcward was not only the absolute type of Topsy, but altbougii a Yankee she gave the nearest approach to Dickens' "Nancy Sikus" of any I have seen, (not excluding ijucille Western), whilst in tho same cast wo had liittle KUa Chapman, an idenl "Oliver." Having fultiiled then- booking; ^ leturned to the city, where being inveigled into an agent's oftico proprietor queried, " Do yon want a sit ?" Answering in the aftirma- tive I was introduced tt) a manager who bore tho prefix of doctor. He was tall and imposing enough to carry the title ; his clothing was elaborately adorned witli fur, ami upon a manly and wliiie shirted breast reposed a metaphorical lighthouso of precious stones froiu Golconda— or the glass works, JIc^ was diffuse in larjguage, and finall} I. engaged with him as a member of the Brofulway Theatre Co. (peripatetic), wiiich to othei novelties had a brass band attachment. We perambulated New York State producing " Tho Octm-oon," and other plays in a lainiirr nUer manner, but lueeting another gang (that's what the ordinary public denominated us) of troopers, I had the pleasure of retiring and joining for a short time the tragedian of his age, Mr. Edwin Forrest, than whom no other actor ever thought more of his fellow workers of the nrs drnnuitkn. When I met him he was getting old, gontv and grumpish, l)nt the poetic fire was there. His first Habitation was : "You're English ?" " Yes, sir," was the answer. " W' hat theatre did you last play in tliere?" " SbeHield," was the reply. " ShetTicid (with a growl), well, you're the lirst Englishmau I've met ovor lioro who did not iiiiil from Dniry liiuw." Ho lian often said : *' My tliree antipathies are Kn^hmd, the {,'oiit and my wife." With hiH endeavors to hido the pain of tho gout he couhl still be sarcastic. One English actor playing seconds was, at rehearsal, a constant thorn in his side— hy his (querulous objections. When re- quested to cross the stage, or other minor detail, ho would break in with the remark, " I played this, with some celebrated actor and I was over there." This the star bore patiently for several times, but the explosion was near at hand. Foirest remarked to him : " What is your authority for that f (alluding to some stage business). The actor testily remarked: " I played this with Ira Aldridge." *• Who's he?" answered the star. "The African lloscius," was the reply. "Aha," ho thundered, " I thought you had been playing with some d — d uigger." When he died ho left a monument l)ebind him in the " Forrest Home," which is situated near Philadelphia. A mansion surrounded by grassy acres full of beautiful trees and varied by hill and valley, which contains therein a collt'ction of unique portraits, statues and dramatic curiositi';s, a li' ary full and perfect with scarce folios of the immortal bard, is now a haven of rest to aged members of the profession who are debarred of nothing that ordinary wishes might desire. On my last visit, a year or so ago, there were several J had known, amongst them Frank Lawlor, and Simcoe Lee, who, by-the-bye, is, I think, a Canadian. The latter said to me, Harry, here I am, a millionaire— the table groans with good things — my room is my own — luxuries are not d( uied me — if I want to smoke tobacco is plentiful — if I want ch;inge a carriage bears me to the depot, and money is given me — if I express a wish they try to fulfil it. To-day they have, as I desired, given me a chest of carpenters' tools, as I wanted to work en (tmatenr—l have no thought of to- morrow — 1 do not even tremble as to the important query, " Does the Ghost walk?" There are about twenty inmates who enjoy the— well— we cannot use a better term— the hospitality of the dead tragedian. On leaving it, however, this thought obtruded : This property, if divided into building lots, would bring an enormous sum. Would the spirit of the great actor rebel if it were disposed of and the proceeds used to supply the wants of a much greater number of the fraternity ? The city is growing Frankford-way so fast, that 1 imagine to "that complexion" it will come at last. j . , . , -^ ■'viV; -48- ,; ;:; ; v >^ ; - ■ CHAPTER XIII. 'y IN OHIO. In 1867, after a sliort sojourn in Gotham, I encountGi-ed, one (lay, a genial Irishman with the Celtic name of Barroy Dugan, whose first saluiation was, " I want you as stage manager and start at once to Canton." I had an inward misgiving that he was e'ldeavouring to chafif me, as I thought China a little beyond my reach, but after a time on my enquiring its precise locality, he added Ohio. So with but little hesitption I accepted. On arrival there I found an incom- plete theatre, but the prospects seemed bright and in the company I saw good material. Rachel Denvil, the leading lady> bore with her traces of the Old Bowery, but she had the physique, voice and intelli- gence denied to many others, wlnlst Mortimer Murdoch (author of " Hoop of Cold ") was a thoroughly efficient tragedian. T. W. Keene (our representative Richard III. of later days), Johnny Ward, John Nunan. fciouthard and others made a good coterie, and during six weeks to full houses we gave admirable performanceK of tragedy, comedy and lurid melodrama. I had omitted to mention Mrs, Denvil's daughter, A'ho was sweetly sympathetic in light roles, besides being the possessor of good vocal ability. Her singing was a feature and made such aii impression that one of our distinguished psitrons on an occasion b^tught twelve orchestra seats sipecially to hear her vocalize. • The play was "Othello," the vocalist Desdemona, and Desdemona, except in opera, does not indulge in chanson. The patron, accompanied by Louis Schaeffer (the owner of the opera house, which was then a new toy to him.) came with the extraordi- nary request that she should sing a popular song, "Constantinople," in the tragedy, I remonstrated about the incongruity, remarked that we were playing Shakespeare, and received for an answer, " Shake- spoare never wrote a comic song that pleased him as well," etc., etc. So she sang "Constantinople" in the character of Desdemona. Re- calling Louis Schaeffer brings before ma a peculiar experience with him in the same house twenty years later. My own company was playing for a week strong dramas of the Wild West character. One of the local dailies had not been prolific of notices, so when the re- jjorter came to witness the periormance he was refused admission —40— with the remark that if the show was not good eiiouf^h for longer critiques it was not good enough for him to see it. The irate critic next morning gave a most damnatory and unjust notice of the com- pany. Schaeffer, full of indignation, read the article and said: " Wait till night, me fix him." Night came with "The Phcenix" as the bill of fare. Between the acts on stalked a loan spectacled figure with carpet slippers on feet and skull cap on head. Shouts greeted his entry. He commenced : "Ladies and Gentlemen, — Perhaps a few of you can read. Do you read dot newspaper? Dey say dis com- pany not good. I say dem reporters is liars. You have seen Gerald Blossoms, who was mein friend Mr. Lindley. Twenty years ago he opened dis house mit Thomas Keene, Mr. Murtogh, Clara Morris, Rashel Deuvil and some more of dose fellows. Look how thoy please to-night ? You see that lady sing, I don't know her other name. You hear that Jew ; well, he was a Jew, and he's not ashamed of me (cheers). I run this house ; the show please myself ; I gif gut per- formance, and if dot reporter don't like my shows he does not gif a d— n." Terrible applause, after which he, excited, made the remark, " I told you me fix him." Poor Louis was, with all his eccentricities , a friend of the profession, and a true Democrat, so much so that he narrowly escaped hanging for his sympa+hy with the South. We, after our season at Canton, played all the cities of the State, including Columbus, and finally closed io: the summer season with regret. I made, however, supplementary trips as am.anager, of which more anon CHAPTER XIV. STOCK. It has often been a matter of contrast — stock performances and the present combination system. In 18G8, or thereabouts, I was co- median at the old National Theatre, Cincinnati, which had been managed by Mr. Bates for years previously, buu who for this season had put in R. E. J. Miles, and during the period it was star attrac- tions, week by week, who would vary their plays nightly or so. With — 50— Edwin Booth and the legitimate repertoire, such as "Hamlet," "Eichard III," 'Lady of Lycnr.," " Much Ado Abont Nothing," "Richelieu," etc., it was not a » itter of much difficulty, but the ordi- nary run of stars made it real work. Amongst others Mrs. General Lander arrived with heavy imitations of the Ristori drama, such as "Mary Stuart and Queen Ehzabeth " (Mrs. Lander was Jean Daven- port, and it is said was the original "Lifant Phenomenon" of Dickens), and John E. Owens, the character actor of his day and originator of "Solon Shingle," which, although an inferior literary production, is the forerunner of Yankee comedy. Owens was engaged for two weeks of standard comedies, and to my intense disgust the first old man was hors de combat with the gout, and, as a sequence, the manager asked me as a favor to play what comedy parts I could, and also the most difficult of the old men, such as in "Paul Pry," etc. Crusty old men — happy old men — senile old men — robust old men — varied with comedy roles, rehearsed daily, gave my nights after per- formance anything but a superfluity of sleep. The second old man in the theatre was a stepson of John Brougham's, by name George Lascelles. If anything disagreeable or unsatisfactory happened his favorite ejaculation would be Tingle ! Tingle ! music ! if an actor was fined, Tingle ! Tingle ! music ! if an unpleasant notice adorned the green room walls. Tingle, &c. ; if a star ventilated his or her wrath, Tingle, &c ; in a bar-room or other discussion the same old Tingle. In fact, his Tingle ! Tingle ! music ! was the property of the public. He was always uncertain in the text and a veritable bete noir to Mr. Owens, whose finest points he would invariably mar. In a farce, " The Live Injun," the comedian was driven com- pletely distrait by Mr. Lascelles, and in reply to some query, Mr. Lascelles, at loss for words ejaculated : " Who am I '?" Mr. Owens, in unqualified disgust replied : " The worst second old man in the business." As the Irishman in the corner I gently murmured, Tingle ! tingle ! music ! Actors and audience roared to Lascelles' discomforture and utter annihilation for rest of the evening. We also gave support to Joseph Jefferson in "Rip Van Winkle" and otlier productions, whilst we varied an occasional week with " Midsummer's Nights Dream," "Humpty Dumpty" as spectacular attractions. Then we tried Belle Boyd, " The Confederate Spy," who, in her new calling, failed to —51— draw, and C. W. Couldock, as Louis XL, an admirable portrait, and Mrs. Scott-Siddons, who was then classically beautiful and would have made an ideal Virginia. With this lady I first essayed to gag (improvise) Shakespearian blank verse. I was playing Cloten in " Cymbelinej" and in front scene gave the cue for attendant to enter. I heard a voice say, •' Miss Clark can't be found ! Gag." I did so to to the best of my ability, and as the wait was somewhat protracted to the tedium of the audience, and I am afraid that if Shakespeare could have heard my lines he would have turned uneasily in his grave—and then after all the star had to come on with the omission of Miss Clark's lines. We also produced by this lady's desire a weird, un- canny dish of horrors, written by a local judge, entitled the " Corsican Sisters," in which, as comedian to fill up unnecessary sticks in in machinery, I made forty-one distinct entrances, and I never blushed for my substitution of the author's lines. There were many other stars, and amongst that company many have joined the great majority. It composed names like Mat Lingham, James O'Neill (the Monte Christo of later days), Joseph Whiting, C, P. DeGroat, the siatera Minnie and Ada Monk, and it may be said it was a gathering of thoroughly efficient workers. I left there for sprmg season at Detroit, Michigan, when I joined a company which was to open the best theatre that city had ever had. It was located on Campus Martins, and under ostensible management of a grotesque Yankee comedian, Garry Hough, who made Cute a funny caricature. In its ranks were Miss Keignolds, whom I had seen at the Haymarket, London, as •• Eichelieu," at sixteen, also John Brougham, as stock star, Walter Grisdale, a ponderous tragedian of the old school, bristling with traditions, Mr. and Mrs. Claude Hamilton, a delightful couple, Pop Fuller, an antiquarian, Johnson, etc. "London Assurance" was the initial programme, with Brougham as Dazzle, Miss Reignolds as Lady Gay, self as Mark Meddle, and a capable cast, but although we gave the entire round of John Brougham's plays, including the " Burlesques," " Shylock," " Pocahontas," supplemented by the then runni?ig New York attractions, we finally cried, " Hold, enough," and the votaries of Thespis were cast adrift. There were plenty of excuses for our failure, and (he one v/ord most distasteful to a manager's ears was indiscriminately used — If. —52— 1 liave scarcely ever met an iiulividual who could not, explain away the reasons for a bad house with that word IF. If you had conoe sooner. If you had come later. If it hadn't rained. If the weather wasn't so fine. If you had waited till next week. If you had come last week. If you could strike us Turkey fair. If the people were not tired with the fair, and so on ad infinitum. To cap the chmax I heard a patron remark to T. C. King, the tragedian, after a very bad house— " If the Bishop hadn't died." " What has tiie Bishop to do with it ?" granted King. *' Kings taku precedence of Bishops." " Yes, I know, but he's dead." " Well," retorted King, "Then we couldn't expect him to come." "No; but the people are all looking at his body." " Well," growled the actor, " I've played in opposition to a great many attractions but never before to a dead Bishop." CHAPTEK XV. PANTOMIME. I always had a fondness for the Pantomimic and equestrian drama, and I have in a very chequered career managed many stars, but, after Madame Celeste, in that line I have seen but few who could charm an audience more than Marietta Ravel. She was very handsome — with plump and shapely figure— her smile was win- ning, and her stage presence had a certain magnetism about it. She imbued the impossible pantomimic dramas with so much vitality as to make them palatable to the public. "The French Spy," the usual vehicle for pantomimic stars, was her favorite role, for which her training with the Ravels eminently fitted her, and she therein intro- duced her wild Arab dance, and also the Splits to effect. She also gave "The Wizard's Skiff," a manuscript which T have often studied —Sa- to find out what was its meaning and always failed, "Wept of the Wishton Wish," (from Feunimore C'ooper,) " Jartine," and other stage romances. 8he was also an adept on the tight rope, and in one of these dramas, which create a halo of romance on their producers, she makes an escape from the villani through the upper window, (cross- ing over a river I think,) accompanied by pizzicato music and a balancing pole, amidst the acclamations of a bewildered, admiring public. To the best of my belief she only played one speakiug part, Buckstone's old-time drama, "Flowers of the Forest," in which she played "Cynthia, Queen of the (Hpsies," and in appearance, grace and gesture it *vas a success. There was only one fault. She was tutored for the part by Pat Connolly, a good swordsman, and m one speech she innocently gave the parentage of her lingual instructor by saying "fetthered and bownd." She has retired from the stage some years, but her husband, Mart Hanley, still manages Mr. Harrigan's theatre, New York. Kate Fisher — good-tempered and attractive — was another of my managerial specs, and often have I seen her bound on the back of the W^ild Horse of Tartary and carried to her doom on all siage?;, from that of a mammoth opera house to oue as extensive as a dining-room table. There also appears to memory's call the Cuban (Irish) Sylph. Her proportions were more ample than the average sylph. Her stage cognomen was Mile. Zoe (Mrs. Ben. Yates), and her special feature was combats with four. Now music is as necessary to the "French Spy " as the character itself, but on one occasion we were sadly non- plussed. We were playing the date of a fair, and owing to King Al- cohol and other causes the orchestra at night was non est, but we had a local brass band also, which v/as used as an incentive to draw in the public, so their services were called into requisition. The enfacte music they delivered well enough, but when they came to the bloodthirsty combat of four and struck up for accompaniment to the death-dealing blows the well-known air of "If I had but a thousand a year," it was decidedly ex cathedra. Then I have essayed the drama with Zoe Gayton, a female of muscle, who made a walk from Frisco to New York as an advertising medium. Once I essayed thy play of " Ma- zeppa" with a lady new to the equestrian drama. We hired a "tiery, untamed steed," tranied tlie animal, who bore the torture tolerably —54— well. At night the aspirant came to the period when she was tied on the equine performer's back. Cue was given, " and let his fate strike terror through Poland," but the impetuous beast baulked. However, with spears, accompanied hy shouts, the animal started up the runs, but before he coulet Denman Thompson, 7k TT'T"' '"'• There 'flr! 2,7««ng but ,hat it has he : w t" """ " '' '-"'"-to ^ J ter experiences, he has the slfca* ^ r''"'' Yet. after al iSh":;, ; 'ri"""" '"^ "'■"i'osopSTn I'-H? '" '"'^ "'" d-ccor at this period h\^t ],,. i i ""®- tie was a L/ood "■•oma, »'•'» it is an extraordi,« V IL " ""^ "'^ '■» "'» ^aX Sest success, "Joshua Whi ol , T/'"""" ">«'" ""at his b ! cWaalis that contanied tZZ^, , °'"'' '"'™ "merged from a able, "The Female Bathers .""'''"«'»»'■ and that scarcely renu '"terrupted successful poXrm» e !?/' ^"^ ^ "-"'oHn" duced a Christmas pantomime on tt"j.^t t'""' ""^ ''""■'ay^ P™ son Crusoe," written by myself and M?-'' P'""' """""d "Robin, -ore than average int'elllTl- m!:^^?'^ ^""^«P»P- -«" of of Tlieatre Eoyal, ^fon^real, by g iug ov 'l t""^ "^^ '""a»0J- We wended our way to Lond„,t 7 , n '■"'"'' '" * «'"'<'"• cties, with varying success, and h ' t '"'' '""*>"">"• ""d other A.ien, who was a dime nov I p" od„eer o 7'%"'? '"^"^^ ^Iber when we gave first representations o ° Tt^T"''. '^ ^ ''^" ''-k^. the euphonious title of •■ Witches of N»„ v !"""'" *» l-earing author assumed the Protean oe On tl^.V ""' '" "*"'«'> "- figured as •• The Eisiug Star,- an never ctdtl"*^^' P™'^' ""^ of .ndignation on his face when Nelll v "^ ^' '"^^o""" "« look "arched in to rehearsal one moriu/lVwitr"' " '"'™^ ^'"""•""«. m a small parage. ■. Whafs 2 • IT" ' '"T'' """'' '-'<'"" ' s a paper of yeast," she replied Th! " ^' "^^ '■"'P you • Now we first made acuaintanetitlifti "'7 '""' "'"'' » anger.' ^ave the mark-.. Hei' Ma/es ^s te^t^"™ " f, ^'"'^™ "'-Hea'ven -. others, and here ^^ ^^^^^^^^tl^J^t: Z^l^Z^ -56- ledf^o and trying to dintribute the same for a small stipend. It was in this city I first met a woU- known fi^^jure in Canadian theatricals, John Townsend, a whole- soulod, good hearted Englishman. I had seen hira as an English Momber of Parliaraont (who got there by accident), in Greenwich, and also saw hira play (ho never could pro- nounce the letter R) " Wichard's Himself Again," but if his acting had tliat defect he was still a gentleman. The family, all of whom played, had undoubted talent, and gave a Shakespearian repertoire which, although somewhat curtailed, was worthy of acceptation. At this writing I read oi" this sterling and amiable man -alone in the world, as his wife is now insane, and his family scatt'^red — being the recipient of a benefit ; well may it prosper. There was a very peculiar character there who was to us a source of much mirtii, Capt. Joe Lee, and another who was full of love for the practiser;'. of the ait, Detective O'Neill. 'Twas in this theatre that Nellie Nelson -first de- lineated " Mazeppa," and it was also the first attempt of the horse, but I never saw a better representation of the drama, for a first night. I was go nervous of her fate that when the horse started up the runs into the fiies, otherwise the top of the stage, I ran headlong out of the stage door and panted until the plucky woman came down, after the fall of the curtain. The government patronized us nobly— the civil service clerks occasionally fell short rf funds — but we recall with pleasure the reminiscences of Bytown. I would, however, here fill one omission and state that since that period in the same city I have managed theatres, rinks, and halls of every shade— that I have been also frozen out, burnt out, and comparatively kicked out, but I think it may be noted as a fact that actors remember nothing but the good, forget the past, accept the present, and live only in the future, —57- CHAPTER XVII. TORONTO. I have to go back to 18(59, and thereabouts, to speak of Toronto's early theatrical days. There vvas only ouo theatre worthy the name - the Lyceum - owner, Mr. French ; lessee, Geo. Holman. It was small. It was English in construction. It had gallery boxes and pit ; and what seemed singular to a stranger was that the front row of the pit had its regular habitues, who were always eti rapport with the players. I had first met the Holraan Opera Co. two years before in Utica, N.Y. Their component parts were then limited, consisting of George (Pere), Benjamin, Sallie, Alfred, Julia, whilst William Crane (the now emi- nent comedian), W. Davidge, John Chatterson (now Signer Pcru- giui), and a few others filled the bill. They were trying to make a success of a stock season there, but their ultimate bonanza was Canada, wi ere they became the pets of the Dominion. Miss ISallie was phenomenally clever. Imagine a prima donna, who was a bo)ia fide vocalist, a sterling actress, a comedienne or tra- gedienne at will (although her stature was somewhat against her in the latter), and, furthermore, a burlesque actress who could do justice to Offenbach or Burnand, and only a sprightly girl at that, and you have 8allie Holman as I first knew her. Mr. and Mrs. Holman were both English, the former having been born in Margate, and many is the pipe we have puffed in unison discussing its residents. Both had played some seasons with New York's greatest comedian, Burton, and both, more especially Mrs. Holman, were thorough musicians. I have heard her remark, and experienced it for a fact, that she could sit down at the piano and play forty operas without the score, which is rather of a feat. Julia was the prettiest and had plenty of the quality known as "chic," but lacked the voice of her sister. Mr. Holman would also, at this period, occasionally appear in " Guy Mannering," " Doctor of Alcantara," &c., and was also a fine exponent of " Devilshoof." This company, when first I joined, then occupied a position unknown elsewhere in America. They played standard opera, such as "II Tro- vatore," " Somnambula," " Satanella," " Bohemian Girl," and the -5«- rest of the classic school. Thny were the first to introduce Offenbacli in English. To them the public were indebted for the best version and the best representative of "La (irande Duchesse," "La BeWe Helene," and principal roles in " Orphee aux Enfers," " Fille dii Mdme. Angot," t^tc. Both serious and comic opera were produced with accuracy as regards scenery, costumes and detail, and this with a good supporting company and chorus, including the basso, Harry Peakes. Drama was with Miss Sallie a jwiwhant. I played " Micawber," in David Coppertield, to her "Little Emily," and it ran two weeks in this small city. "Arrah na Pogue," as also the Robertsonian series — "Ours," "Caste," "School," &c., each a week, and in these dramas she would introduce gems of song, such as Bishop's "Hark the Lark," in the sweetest and most cultured manner. To vary the pabulum they would occasionally present spectacle or burlesque, and I have never seen a better class of holiday entertainment than the "Ice Witch," which, by the bye, I arranged for them, or "Cherry and Fair Star," kc, which were put on elaborately, whether as regards scenery, cast or vocal requirements. Their fame was not confined to Canada, as I have accompanied them through the United States and seen their successes — noticeably, at the " National," Washington, Philadelphia for three weeks. New York, Richmond, &c., and their reputation and drawing powers induced Alice Gates, by the way an excellent vocalist, and others to attempt " Offenbach." To Mr. St. John, a journalist, they were indebted for most of their librettos. On occasional weeks, during my three weeks with their company, they would leave their theatre with a few people to support stars, such as Kate Fisher, Dominick Murray, Effie Henderson, not forgetting Lucy Rushton. It was a small stage, and the combined size of Miss Rush- ton and her train in "Lady Teazle " sufficed to hide the company from the audience. We had homes in the city, and what names were more familiar than John R. Spackman, George Barton, Alf. Hudson (and the sausage machine), Allan Halford (poor Allan was associated with me for over twelve years, and to his disgust had to leave Canada for Cleveland, where he died four years ago,) and his daughter, Ollie, who played with me as a child and woman, and Blanche Bradshaw, who was married to —59— Alfred Holman from ray house, and Mrs. liradslmw, a superb old woman, and Joseph Brandisi, not forgetting a tenor I had hoard in Covent Garden, Brookhoiise Bowler. Of those many have joined the great majority, including Misses Sallie and Julia, who both died in the prime of life ; George Holman and Spackman ; but they educated Toronto, operatically and dramutically, and you could not now find their successors as a company. Spackman was of the order sociable. He was a Philadelphian, but could imbibe a "Mutchkin" with any Scotchman, and Kerby's saloon was his favorite resting place, a iact of which the audience were fully cognizant. In proof, thereof, "Thro' by Daylight" had run nearly a week, and oue evening I was awaiting Spackman's arrival on the scene, I had extemporized and looked off in vain for the humorous old man, until, hearing a foot- step, my countenance beamed and I exclaimed, " Ah, at last he is here," when a gentleman recently arrived in the gallery shouted, " No, he ain't, Harry ; I left him in Kerby's with a beer," thus ending my anxiety and the scene. Little Nell, the California Diamond, since a French actress, since Mrs. Ward, wife of the baseballist, made an immense hit in her day. Her medley with me was rapturously received, and bouquets innumerable littered the ground. I, of course, gathered them up and one night varied the business. I presented them to her, walked down to footlights, looked at gallery wistfully, received nothing, put my hand to my heart, sighed, and walked off, to the shouts of the audience. Next night I thought the busmess good and repeated it, when down came from the gallery a bouquet which fell upon me with weight enough to stagger me. Its component parts were dandelions, cabbages and carrots, all beautifully arranged. I smiled a silly smile, but next ni!j;ht I cut out the business. The Holmans, during their regime, taught many actors and vocalists who have made reputation from their schooling, and I remember one actor who was welcomed occasionally by showers of pies, as he was un- popular with the gallery, make a Loudon impression, •' Mr. Bellew." Under Mr. Holman 's management I also played a week with the light comedian, Charles Matthews, the rapid, the easy, the glib tongued. I had seen him in England in his favorite round of characters, but I never expected to play leading old men and comedy in ten comedies and farces all in one week. " Game of Speculation," " Used Up," ' ■• — 6o— •• Married for Monoy," " The Critic," I stood fairly wel', others followed, f'umlly I was imperfect in the text. He prompted ho easily, that next night I v; s carelesH and knew less. On coming off the stage ho said a little testily : " You don't know a line." 1 responded, " Mr. Matthews, it is not necessary, you prompt so imperceptibly that the audience ai ' ignorant of the fact." He smiled and winked, and said, " Never mind, do hetter to-morrow." 1 had known some- thing of his early history and entanglements, and on one evening he gave me ii brief resume of his life, and in course of it remarked : *' I never had a shilling until I married my present wife (she was Dolly Davenport's wife and cost the comedian a horsewhipping). 1 scarcely ever went out of a theatre without fear and trembling. My nasal organ became so sensitive 1 could smell a bailiff ; my eye would recognize a dun on the instant. 1 can tell you this, if you can snap your fingers at your creditors yon are enjoying luxury." I have found his words true since then. In a short newspaper article an- nouncing his coming I summarized my own opinion of this comedian. •'The last of his race, Charles Matthews is the ideal of grace and ease. In 'Patter vs. Clatter ' his remarkable volubility has been the wonder of the English speaking world. His words come forth like a torrent, and yet each word is fully articulated and each sentence delivered with so much emberance of animal spirit, combined with the rapidity, as to be a feat. He has rescued Bheridan's play of 'The Critic ' from oblivion, and his wonderful assumption of t'- role of 'Puff' com- bines these features : Change of voice, cooniess at one moment, cajolery the next, and rattling vivacity the next." When 1 played with him in Canada he was sixty-eight years old, yet he played the jeune premiere as facile as a youth. He died in London, I believe, in 1878. It is somewhat singular that my associations with Canadian managers have generally been those of the female sex. Mrs. Holraan, in Toronto, was the de fucto head, and a capable head at that. Then, m Montreal, Mrs. Bucldand, and for a short period again in Toronto, Mrs. Morrison, who made her re-entre on the stage sometime after the decease of her husband. John Nickinson (the father of Mrs. Morrison), was almost the pioneer of theatricals in Toronto, and in parts like the " Old Guard," for which his military training had fitted him, he was exceptionally fiiif. lli.s (laughters all iujit'i-itnl tlu" dramatic talent, hut to Charlotte might woll be acrcordecl the palm. Few actroHscs of her time had imna spirit as '• Lady Gay," more arohuesH as •* Nan," or " The Maid with the Milking Pail." while the teachings of the English school seemed to permoate her presence. Under her manage- ment of the Lyceum, with a Hue dramatic caste, appeared .1. W. Wallack, and his renditit»n of Diclien's "Kagin" was faultless. In the jail scene his acting was of tlie most intejise and almost repulsive nature. His cringing fear and cries of horror !it his impending doom seemed to appal the audience. Li the '•Man with the Iron Mask" and such characters he was also inimitable, but his "Hamlet" lacked semblance of youth. althoU!,'h it bore the evidence of a great actor's study. Hartoii Nill, Bon llogers (who had a thorough conci'ption of Sir Harcourt Courtloy), and others were ui the support, and this season was the forerunner of the erection of a uiore atubitious structure. chaptf:k xviiL IN MONTREAL. In 1872 I had the offer of the lease of the Theatre Royal, Mon-, treal, and in an evil hour I undertook the task. They say nature adapts the back to the burden, but if so I must be terribly round- shouldered from the weight I bore. I suffered all the ills that mana- gerial flesh is heir to. I learnt financiering, dodging and, not to mince matters, lying, and every other civil but not criminal sin, besides wast- ing three years of my life in hunting shadows. There were then only two theatres, and it was not a theatrical city by any means. It had only been customary with John Bnckland to play a few months of summer, but I was determined to inaugurate a new era, so I played a winter season and, horrible to say. struggled through Lent, and, worse tlian all, did not exclude Good Friday. The stellar system was in vogue. The stars shared after a certain amount, but sometimes it did not reach that amount, and then of ne- ■ i: ;■.,.. — 6t— cessity I had to assist my confreres on thoir way. I introduced all the current attractions, lost money regularly— in fact, with but few exceptions, scarcely saw a paying week. The Jews — heaven bless them — were my most fervent friends — always ready with kind words and money to assist me. Of course there were some oases in the arid dramatic desert, and amongst them the "Black Crook," which, owing to a pastoral letter being read in the churches, filled the house. The Earl of Dufferin and the Countess had been kind to me in Ottawa, condescending on two occasions to visit that most arctic theatre, The Rink, and were kinder still in speech and purse in Montreal, where he visited us twice or thrice. The other bright spots were the engage- ments of T. C. King, of whom more anon ; Wybert Reeve, in the "Woman in White," and with whom I first played "Sir Peter Teazle," and one immense success ; Augustin Daly's Fifth Avenue Theatre Co. for two weeks, who at advanced prices with "Alixe," "Big Bonanza," "Fernande," &c., turned people away. T. C. King has been always, in my eyes, the "ideal tragedian," but, like Charles Dillon, he had this fault — he was too accessible. He loved society, and would have it — if not of the refined class, why, for want of a better, the lounger or frequenter of bars. A farceur says the usual attributes of a tragedian are "Pot belly, chuckle head and bully the chandelier," but here was n man of goodly height, with a Roman face, manly form, and a sonorous voice, which m the very tempest of his passion was never over forced, but clear and distinct. I had seen him, from early days, in consort with Charles Kean, the "Yandeiihoff," whom he somewhat resembled, and all the other tragic kings. He had been imported into New York with that gruesome drama (from Victor Hugo), " The Hunchback of Notre Dame," which had proved a dire failure, and was awaiting salary and developments. It did not take the erection of many "Chateaux en Espagne" for me to lure hita thence to Montreal. No glaring paper announced his advent, but the simple announcement, "The Drury Lane Tragedian," with a little advance dodgery, a few well selected paper notices, and a properly rehearsed production of "Othello " saved me from utter ruin. On his first appearance as the "Moor," I fidgetted around the front of the theatre, nervous and anxious, but with an assumption of cheerfulness, and when it came to the Handkerchief episode and I heard the audience recall him in the -63- lat I to ^he ra.9 of |al. »t, of Ihe ]id Ito be middle of the scene (not act, mark you), I felt a novKs homo. Stand- ard plays succeeded each other. "Richelieu" I had in view, but Mrs. Bucklaud advised me out of deference to the feelings of the Roman Catholics not to place a cardinal on the stage. We had had a priest of the Father Tom type hissed off a little previously, but I combated the idea and actually made an announcement stating that the glory of France and religion was upheld in the " wily Cardinal." We drew six crowded houses with Lytton's excellent drama, and followed with "Rob Roy," "Esmeralda," "Macbeth," and "Virginius." I was pay- ing debts and, being somewhat pemuious in these productions, was at times woefully handicapped for ancient wardrobes for supers, whose dressing was an eyesore to King. In one drama requiring armoured leggings, of which I had none, I remarked " Be of good cheer, they will be there to-night, Tom." When night came, placing my super army in line, .1 called out the tragedian and pointed them out. "Aha," he said, with a smile, "that's something like," In the course of play on came the rush of contending forces, the army naturally enough rubbed against each other in the melee, and I heard a deep, bell-like voice exclaim, "Great heavens ! he's chalked their trousers." I had chalked a line straight down the side of their legs, and artistically chalked buttons at interv?i1«. Vnshing to close theatre after King's season of six weeks, I induced him to tour the provinces. In Quebec city our success was unprecedented, and we were playing, lowest admission one dollar. The crossing thence to Point Levis was on the ice over the River St. Lawrence with carrioles or hacks. Mr. King made enquiries as to depth of river, rise of tide (which is very high there), looked at the huge fissures, and then hired a lumberman's batteau (boat), in v/hich he regally sat and allowed himself to be pulled across at a cost of five dollars and immense laughter from the popu- lace. He had no idea of the value of money, whilst h6 had an open hand for charity, and as fast as wealth poured in he would scatter it. At the Queen's Hotel, Toronto, his room did not suit liis ideas, so the clerk, in tones of chaff, said, "Perhaps you would like the Dufferin suite?" "Exactly what I want," he replied, and we had it. His temper was equable, and never was he happier than when he could give enjoyment to the company. In business of the stage his kindness was universal, and he would cover any errors, except once, when the ms -64- " Lady Macbeth," for whom he was looking on one side, entered on the other, and at whom he glared for a moment and then in insulted tones exclaimed "Never more enter the rear portal." I must confess that I at Kingston completely demoralized him. It was warm— so was Polonius — I would, off the stage, remove my beard. In the play scene 1 went on the stage minus the beard. The first actor spoke his speech, then I followed with the text. " This is too long," Hamlet continued, " It shall be the barbers with thy beard," and locking at me thunderstruck he continued, " Great Cfesar, he hasn't got a beard on." After a trial of Buffalo, N.Y., and some other towns in that state, and the weather being too hot we closed, and Mr. King and 1 parted. Next season he played with Mr. Herndon, but it was not so success-, ful, and owing to careless manipulation of his funds I do not think he bore away much money, although I mi<2ht state that his clear receipts per night were not less than $400 during the Montreal success, and not far behind in many other cities. In '74 I had a heavy tight for supremacy with Ben de Bar, who had leased the Dominion Theatre on Champs de Mars, and who had come from St. Louis specially to crush me. He was piqued at my having obtained control of the Theatre Royal, which he had formerly run in co-partnership with Mrs. Buckiand. He had one advantage, which was, that if any star or combination appeared with me, he would rule them oft' his theatres at St. Louis and New Orleans. He was an admirable comedian, founded on Paul Bedford or John Reeves' manner, and made a good " Falstaff, ' but rich as he was his ducats melted in this undertaking. Having no other theatre to sweeten stars, 1 was compelled to pay certainties to them, which made me feel uncertain as to my tenve. but I made him curtail his season, as he could not bear the cojstant drain on his purse. In the St. Lawrence Hall, where I lived for two years, I was introduced to Paul du Chaillu, who was roaming at will, and we became transient friends. He will be remembered mostly for his Gorilla adventures. He was suft" ring one evening from severe headache and I prescribed a dose of theatre, where, on that night, I was peculiarly happy. On return home he said, with characteristic kindness, " Lindley, I whs sick, you cured me, your antics were so funny." I replied, "Thanks ; -65- you are a good judge of baboons." I may without egotism say I was popular and at times sacrificed the unities. I paid Oliver Doud Byron a certainty for three weeks to produce " Across the Continent," " Hero," " Ben McCuUough," all lurid melo-dramas, but drawing cards. During one of these lucubrations a gentleman Bacchi plenus sat in the orchestra chairs and incontinently snored, to annoyance of Byron. "Leave him to me," I said, quietly and without further ado, being armed with revolvers with deadly (?) blank cartridges, I strode over footlights and orchestra to the snoring offender and fired off in the neighborhood of his ear the six loads, whilst he jumped wildly in the air, then I quickly retired to the stage and continued my dialogue to an accompanimen tof yells and shouts from the audience. The public were crying for better style of attractions, but no one knows save a manager the difficulty of keeping week by week the bill of fare to a proper standard. The idea struck me one evening to write a newspaper article condemnatory, so asking, I obtained permission to lay it on thick. I did. I wrote two columns anathematizing my own management, expatiated on the miserable style of attractions, de- preciated everything that I had done, heaped coals of fire on my own head, and lamented that Montreal had not received proper treatment at my hands, but artfully managed to close up the article with a few lines statmg that I had awoke to the necessity of making a redeeming effort in the engagement of a London actjr, Wybert Keeve, etc. Next morning, at the breakfast table from over their newspapers, I observed furtive glances on all sides, and during the day I received words of ympathy for this unjustifiable attack, but at night I chuckled over a replenished exchequer. This also recalls another newspaper which, without intention, heaven knows ! helped me. The Daily Witness, which bears the title ot " the onlj religious daily." I saw advertised on the walls with gigantic pob rs in which female limbs were the prominent feature — The female L.instrels. I knew they were death to both theatres, al- though announced for Mechanics' Hall. I consulted Ben de Bar, manager, but he was apathetic, so I used Cardinal Richelieu's idea, " as the wolfs skin was too small I eked it out with the fox's." I wrote a letter to The Daily Witness, signed by the ubiquitous John Smith, and asked in its columns if the citizens of Montreal were —66— aware of the advent of au openly advertized inanoraJ perfornmuce at the Mechanics' Hall, a building which had been erected for the educa- tion and improvement of the toiling masses. Why should this build- ing be prostituted in the manner advertized ? Why should our young men be brutalized and contaminated in a hall, ostensibly erected for their moral advancement by an exhibition of females whose unchaste pictures might be seen on the walls in a state of hideous semi-nudity ? The management of the hall could not surely be aware of this infamy, and it behoved them to withdraw its use for such a nefarious and obscene exhibition. The religious daily swallowed bait, hook and all. Next morning I smiled with glee, and to the satisfac- tion of Ben de Bar and myself saw the depraved (?) creatures banished to St. Jean Baptiste village, where morality was at a lower ebb. 1 could not, however, even with superhuman elforts keep out of debt. I was besieged by remorseless creditors and played '*Micawber" in real life. I would make my exit from the hotel by the back door or ladies' entrance to avoid the persistent. It isi peculiar the manner a manager will gamble on the chances. The business is more of a lottery than any other, and ho who embarks in it becomes a confirmed gambler. On one occasion a bailitt" walked on to the stage with au injunction or some other wordy legal document, which was to seize the curtain, i.e., prevent its rise. The limb of the law came to me and said : " Curtain cannot go up until I am paid $55, etc." " My friend," said I. " That curtain is not my property, but it goes up at eight." Orchestra played. BaiHft" sat on the roller. Bell rang. Up went curtain and bailiff — but the latter went only a portion of the way. His look of prostrate anguish as he retired in silence and grief resembled that of the dying gladiator. I also had to lock my ticket sellers in the office to prevent seizures on various occasions, One combination I formed procrastinated the evil day, viz : a burlesque organization headed by Ehza Wcathersby and Ella Chapman (she who had played Eva with me years ago). EHza possessed rare beauty, elegant form, and her schooling with Lydia Thompson had perfected her in English burlesque, our productions of which were complete. She afterwards married Nat Goodwin and died in New York a few years afterwards. l^oth of these artists I had known as children, and the Weathersbys in England were all friends of mine. -^67- It required colossal eflforts to draw them in, and after " Black Crook " and other eifective spectacles I took a trip to New York and made arrangements with the Kiralfys to produce '* The Deluge," which, although drawing the largest first night's house ever known, presaged disaster. On its initial production I made five speeches — apologetic— on account of sticks. I threw four men out of the gal- lery. I perspired from work as I never did before, and then, worse than all, my actors were deficient in lines, and one, the leadnig man, "Adam," was drunk. He was aware that there was nothing stronger than cider in Eden, so had filled himself with whiskey. He got down readily enough on his knees to "P^ve," but to rise endeavoured to \i,ie one of her limbs for a support, which conduced to the laughter of the gods. Then the "Ballet " got mixed, and I might say that Scrip- tural history repeated itself, for the only character doing its busmess correctly was " The Snake." The failure might reasonably be attri- buted to the Kiralfys, who contracted to bring a ballet, but they read between the lines and brought only a maitre de ballet. To instruct an average extra in ballet and marches is a task, and to get them in an ordinary city is still more so. By dint of efl:"ort I had secured twenty girls — rehearsed them, even on Sunday — and had to lock them in on Monday. Then, when it came to the flimsy "Paradisean garments," it was a struggle, and a strike was averted by lengthening them, yet I noted, during the week, that these young ladies shortened them more and more. Some of their admirers in front of the house had praised the elegance of their natural or padded calves. Four nights of the "Deluge" washed out the audience and I had to substitute an English actress of merit, Julia Seaman, ni a strong drama entitled "Satan." John L. Toole, the English comedian, on whom I had built great hopes, was also introduced to Canadians by me. His requirements were a little extravagant -he required special people. I engaged them and opened to a full house at increased prices, and thereby hanjzs a tale. I had written Mr, Toole, begging him to make a chaugp in the plays he purposed opening in, viz., "Ici on Parle Franoais," " The Weavers and Crossing the Line," stating as a reason tiiHt the farces were worn out, and that "Dearer Than Life," (-r something stronger, would draw better. A curt refusal was mailed back, so I had no re- source. An immense audience witnessed the first two farces apathoti- —68— oally— lingered wearily through the last, and the "gods," who are the index of a house, 1 heard muttering, as they oame from their alti- tude, " Him a comegun ; he's worse than Lindley," which proved to what a depth of degradation we had both fallen. A bad first night will kill an engagement, as it did in this case, so I ventured to suggest, as we were going to Quebec in two weeks, a change, which was refused. I had the effrontery to remark that "Ici on Parle Francais " was, in his hands, inifnitable from a cockney point of view, but that London was only a section of the world, and that I had localized the farce, had sung a French song in it, and otherwise brutahzed it. Nothing would induce him to forego his favorite bill, so everywhere I played him it was a repetition— open to $5C0, close to $50. Had he have played "The Dodger," which is an ekborate creation, his gain would not have been my loss. On a re-engagoment for a production of the "Cricket on the Hearth," I did better business. The arrangement of the play, "Boucicaults," is, perhaps, better, yet his acting as "Caiab Plumner," contrasted with Joe Jefferson's and some others, is not favorable, inasmuch as Mr. Toole's strainmgs after pathos and emo- tional points are absolute defects. CHAPTEE XIX. CHARLES FECHTER. After Toole, on whom I wasted plenty of time with no tangible returns, I produced mushy melodramas with mushroom stars and some English successes, with myself as a feature, but King Cfsh was not absolute monarch, and I was at my wits' end for a good drawing attraction, when, with Neil Warner, I thought of Fechter, whom I had lost sight of since he was the "Idol of the Hour" in the great metropolis. I had a vivid remembrance of the then new " Hamlet," for from him the rest of tragedians have accepted the innovation of blonde hair and melodramatic ideas. At that time he appeared to me to be too reahstic. He raad,e the Prince ultra colloquial, and being de- ",/i.-^ -69- ficienfc in power of passion he substituted picturesqueness and a conformity to actual life, which many call nature. Nature ceases to be nature when the greatest passions are to be exhibited, because tlio restraint of modern habits leads more to their repression than representation, in everything I saw Fechter do then and later it always seemed to me that he was too moviern. His was a French '• Hamlet," who might have lounged amongst his expatriated countrymen to Leicester Square or in Paris in the Bois de Boulogne. Taken in melodramas, such as " The Corsican Brothers," " Ruy Bias," "Duke's Motto," and the "French School" he was sanspareil. However, to resume, I started to Philadelphia, where I found the friend of Wilkie Collins and Charles Dickens, in far from pabtial apartments, modelling a plaster statuette. He was Uien approaching corpulence, and had not the exact semblance of the Dane. Having stated my object and come to terms as regards his services, I was met by suggestions to engage people, who would have monopolized the gross receipts, but I conceded several points and engaged specially Lizzie Price, Frank C. Bangs, who is even now the type of the genuine tragedian ; H. Langdon, a robust exponent of the legitimate. and a popular favorite, Vming Bowers. We opened our season at advanced rates with " Buy Bias," in which Fechter displayed his characteristic picturesqueness, and Mr. Bangs was also in the race. Then followed "Duke's Motto " and " No Thoroughfare," which, with the stars unctuous, "Bo Glad" awoke some enthusiasm. My guar- antee to him amounted to some S500 nightly. The limit was barely reached, but I was relying on "Hamlet" for a recuperator. To my disgust the star who was in clover (the manager was in nettles), dilly- dalleyed over its production, and after one night's further procrasti- nation, for which I had to close theatre, to put it mildly, he became muddled with alcohol. Foreseeing the impending storm, I, on its production, made a reasonable deduction from the receipts, so that on its second representation I found myself in the throes of a strike. The star refused to play, and the actors, who had received no modicum of their pay from his guarantee, also refused to don their garments. I was nonplussed. However, I ordered the members of my own com- pany to put on garments for another play, and announced my diffi- culty to the audience, and stated that owing to the indisposition of — "JO— the star "Hamlet" would not be presented, but that, instead thereof, I would vocally illustrate it in ray song of " Hamlet," toj^ether with E. H. Briuk, whn was popular in *' Under the Gaslight." A voice broke in from the audience (Vining Bowers) with the remark : " Mr. Ft chter is not sick, and the management has not paid his guarantee," and proceeded to retailtheir grievances amidst yells from the audience. I awaited silence and then calmly replied : " Ladies and gentlemen — I lied. I hive lied twice to the public. Yesterday I placed placards on doors announcing indisposition of Mr. Fechter. I hed. He was not indisposed but mtoxicated." This brought out another contra- diction from the voice. I awaited quiet, then said : '* I place my case in your hands.. At two o'clock on the morning previous J. visited Mr. Fechter's rooms, which were fully equipped with decanters of brandy and other emissaries of destruction. Against his desire I refused to partake. The gentleman then placed his arms around me and kissed me on the cheek, and I — I — I appeal to you, ' Would any sober man kiss me '?' " Judgment — The argument was conclusive. However, it was the presage to my downfall, which came shortly after. When penniless and alone I interviewed my landlady, Mrs. Buckland, in whose purse I had deposited a fortune, and received refusal, so leaving my trunks with Mr. Geriken as security, except one, I left Montreal, riding on the railroad check of that trunk to Toronto, where I joined the Holman Opera Co. shortly afterwards at the Hor- ticultural gardens to play farces, and where I lived to see retributive justice fall on the actors of the Fechter Co. some three weeks later, and the which I must relate as savouring of humour. I had strolled into the theatre with the view of seeing what company Mr. Fechter had gathered tof.'cther. The play was " Hamlet," and thus it ran — Overture — then bell tingle, tingle — a murmur of voices crescendo, till you heard, "It shall go up," "No, it won't, ' &c. — repeated tingle — curtain rises- -Bernardo solus— "Who's there'?" — no response — " Who's there da capo ?" — a final angry forte, " Who's there ?" Voice from the gallery, "D— d if I know." Tingle— curtain falls. End of Act 1. Momentary pause — curtain drawn aside, from which emerges in sombre clothing the moody Prince and informed the audi- ence that owing to a speculative manager, who had imported the com- pany into Canada and had not paid him, his company had refused to —71 — go on without their salaries. Here Mr. DaugH appeared as "Laertes" and said : "This is not true. (Uproar.) This man, Mr. Fechter, re- ceived the greater portion of his money, and his hotel bill for himself and Miss Price was over $nOQ for the week." (Renewed uproar.) Here came in, at opposite side. Miss Price (quiet) : " i say that Mr. Bangs is not speaking correctly." Mr. Bangs (excitedly) : " 1 refuse to answer that (emphasis on 'that') woman." (Hisses.) En- trance of another lady : " 1 am Mrs. Drew, relative of Mrs. Drew. (Order.) Mr. Fetcher, what T would say is"— Prompter's head through curtain-"Come off, all of you." Babel en.sued, and finally, I think, poor John L. Spackman came in and played all the boycotted parts. Mr. Fechter deserved more from the American public than he obtained, but an erratic disposition led him to extremes. Poor fel- low, he died in 1879, leaving behind him a legacy of romantic pictur- esqueness, which Salvini, the present O'Neil in " Monte Cristo," and others have accepted. I would, as a close to this chapter, relate one incident reminiscent of Mrs. W. Drew. Her husband, a happy, good-natured brother of John and Frank Drew, died in Montreal whilst she was in my com- pany. She was heartbroken. 1 sent her, accompanied by a young gentleman, with the body of the deceased, which was to be buried on Sunday from his father's home at Hamilton, Ont. They started and arrived in Hamilton, but, having changed cars at Toronto, the body was left there accidoutally, and when the hour for funeral service ar- rived the mourners and relatives were there, but tlie coipst; was absent. il -72— CHAPTER XX. ONCE MORE HAMILTON. PASSING OVER MAN\ DANGERS OF FLOOD AND I'lELD. Some twelve years ago I had occasion to tide over a few months in this city on account of my wife's sickness, and there made acquaint- ance with a character as well known there as "The Gore" itself. He formerly kept a hotel, but drifted into theatricals, in which he soemed to revel, and it has beou said on one occasion the performers stood him on his head to allow their earnings to drop out of his pockets, which, however, must be taken cum (fr(tno mils. Dark com- plexion. Dark— very dark. Origin according to his ipse dixit — French (Detroit river). He then kept a kind of hospital for broken- down proft^Hsioiials, who made it a stoppi-i >lace to fill up vacuums profet'nionally and stomachically. From thm gentleman originated a phrase pretty common throughout the continent, which arose thus. He had a crooked forefinger, and when procrastinating his payments he would use this finger as an argumentum ad honnnem, whence arose the saying, "giving the finger." The boarding house, where his artistes stayed, was large, but somewhat dilapidated, and many jokes, to which he was impervious, were retailed at his expense. I have seen Joe Banks enter smilingly to breakfast with an erratic door knob for a shirt stud, and on another occasion, when the Doctor (?) de- scended from on high, there was Joe on the rickety stairs, with a bottle of mucilage, busy — very busy. "What are you doing ?" he muttered. "Only sticking the stairs together," was the reply. At his theatre, on John street, the bill of fare comprised variety and drama, for the latter of which stars of the sensational type would il- lustrate the terrors of the "Wild West" and other agonizing fields — one of which I had denominated " the John street horror." Fanny Herring (a reminder of the old Bowery), and yet as versatile as a chameleon, was one of these, and no matter what play I might put up was au fait, whether it was "Ragged Pat," "Lucretia Borgia," "Jack Sheppard or Helen Macgregor in Rob Roy," which we produced with —73— tho addenda of bagpipes, fling dancers, sword dancers, etc. His daughter was an excellent musician. During this engagement Kate Fisher played " Dick Turpin," in which ray sou was shot by a pistol which hung fire. Crack wont the report— a shriek— consternation of audience and immediate fall of irtain. He was blind for a few days and bears the marks yet. The police magi-.trato insisted on arresting the man who fired the shot (R. S. Lylc), who had been with me from a boy, whilst the property man .should have been th.; victim. I man- ufactured many actors during this period. One episode was very amusing. Salaries were in the mist, and a clever trapeze performoy notified me as stage manager that unless paid his act would be miss- ing that evening. I cajoled him and thought no more about it until I heard music strike the customary chords and noted hu.i motionless on his trapeze. Down came a piece of string and a scrawling card bearing this legend : " Tie ray salary to the string." I sent boy in buttons for the document. Foreseeing mischief I then forwarded it to the manager, who. seeing no resource (with an expectant public awaiting), tied his salary to the string — then chords— agitation— and flying artist. Yet to this manager's kindness many of the best ex- ponents of varied lines owed temporary help luid tided over dangerous seas. The last time I saw the doctor was but two years ago, when he had his own equipage — a dilapidated waggon and a "Gil Bias Rosinante"— aud was addressing a small crowd on a country market place on the virtues of a remedy which cured all the diseases to which flesh is heir to, mixing up neuralgia, opthalmia, diarrhoea, corns, bunions, etc., with medical terms aud applications foreign to any materia medica. He was very sensitive as a manager. He could not write, and any allusion to his ignorance thereof was a crushing insult. In fact I might say he was as sensitive as an actor, for mark this, the ego pre- ponderates in the actor's nature. He is blind to his own faults, im- patient of correction and lacks that desire of which Burns speaks, " Wad that some God the gift wad gie us, etc.," yet he has persever- ance and loves his profession. Some will go on fifty years and never advance a step. It has been said of an actor that he would bear the vilest appellations, the roughest insult, even a blow without undue resentment, but when assailed with the addition, "You are no actor," -74- tbc climax was reaclicd and his ussuilant felled at his feet. Their epidorroiH is UHUully thin. A nowspapcr critique, if slightly antagonistic, will worry an actor like a skin (liseaHe. In a notice the omissioD of his name in equally as hitter. To cite a case in this city, young Hellew complained to the local scribe that he had played three weeks with the company and his natno had never appeared. Wait until to- morrow, said my friend, Josh Buchanan, the pe»,aian. He waited, and on the morrow, after the usual dissertation, appeared — •• Mr. BoUew played a Sailor, His acting is like the peace of God, it passe th all understanding." He left the breakfast table on reading it. It is said that there never was an actor, when playing with a star, who did not think he could do better in the star's role. He lives an unreal life. His world is bounded by four walls. The public is his Deus ; their applause his food ; their censure his extinction. He marvels that the outside world does not take cognizance of or interest in the merest histrionic trifles, and despises it for its ignorance of dramatic stage craft, and yet he labors on unceasingly and generally dies in harness. He will work on, toil on, even when sickness assails him. He will forget the spasms of pain for one momentary gleam of appreciation from a fickle public, and after spending a whole life in their service he, as Shakespeare says, '* is seen and heard no more.'' The great bard touched a sympathetic chord when he instructed the chamberlain to "see the players well bestowed." . CHAPTER XXI. ANIMALS. On leaving Richardson's Thespian Temple I became peripatetic and wandered through small burghs, and, leaving the ordinary course of events, will digress somewhat to speak of animals, for whom I al- ways entertained affection. During my wandering days I have been accompanied by bears, wolves, ponies, dogs, &c., but the most bitter experience I ever had was with a pair of goats, attached to a baby carriage {a U Tom Thumb), in which rode {vide Bills) the greatest —75— wonder ^smalleHti of the civilized world, Admiral Tot. Ah instructed from infancy his mission was to lie. Tho dwarf— for puch he was— WHS half irabbciie, and reliod upon his parents and tutors to drag him through his performances. During exhibition in answer to certain questions daily rehearsed, the few brains allotted his diminutive body would be dormant occasionally. He was born in Fitchburg, Mass., weighed 60 lbs., height two feet six inches, real uge 12, — much older on the rrogrammes, but in response to the usual queries he would some- times be muddled. Question — Where were you born ? Answer— 12 years old. What is your weight ? Fitchburg, Mass. What age are you ? 60 pounds. This sometimes bewildered the audience and agitated the questioner. In Kingston by dint of persuasion and care- fully eschewing the goats, I obtained from the officers the services of the regimental band for a parade. They started — myself leading the procession, and goats and baby carriage with banners Hying brought up the rear. Next day I applied for repetition. Unfortunately the officer who had given permission had seen the purade, and gave me a curt refusal with these remarks : " Had I have known it, do you think I would have allowed the regimental band to walk through the .streets of Kingston, up to their knees in mud, m advance of a couple of dem'd dirty goats and a demmed baby carriage with some demraed monstros- ity in it? No, sir ; demit, no, sir !" There are times when goats fail to draw (excluding the baby carriage), and we arrived at Brockville with disaster fully apparent. Tho hotel-keeper (•' landlords have flinty hearts " occasionally) demanded his money, and the supplies were cut off. Money ! We had barely enough to take us to Ottawa. We were ten in number, as we gave performances with the drawf as a Itomie bonche as it were. There was no food, and actors eat. Yes, there were— the goats. I intervi(^wed the Boniface and gave up goats and carriage for security. After breakfast one of the ladies said, ** Harry, how was breakfast obtained ?" I replied, " We have eaten the goats," at which she incontinently fainted, and, hke Eacliael, would not be com- forted. There to those poor animals I said Vale ! Vale ! This recalls two small ponies with which I advertised our advent in the State of Ohio, and an event which took place there. It was a mining town — Salineville— mud and blackguardism on the surface -coal beneath the surface. The ponies (joint weight, only 198 lbs. ) bolted and ran away •■■/■:.{ i'i- "nt'. ^vj\; -76- t (:ougli slough and mire, and galloped over two small iron bridges which spanned a very dirty river. The village custodian, instructed by the county prosecutjr, caused the arrest of the driver, and an im- mediate court was convened. The prosecutor stated the case. The actor who was driving gave his ^ofence. Oho ! says the prosecutor, you mean to tell me you could not hold them ponies. " Those ponies," ejaculated the irate driver. " If I am to be tried I insist upon being cross-examined grammatically. This did not mollify judge or attorney, but elicited threats of a fine for contempt of court. As proprietor of animals I was called and asked for my defence, and commenced (having obtained copies thereof) : " Here is your warrant and here is your by-law." I find this : " Any owner allowing his horse or other animals to go over the bridges of this village faster than a walk shall be liable to a penalty of five dollars or more, etc., etc." I now say that the council, the framers of this law, mu?*: have been laboring under temporary insanity, for if carried into effect who would escape. A cow is an animal, a dog, a cat, a rat is an animal. I ask you, would your judicial func- tions allow you to fine the owners of these necessary and unnecessary animals ? Furthermore, according to usual definition, man is an animal, a policeman is a man, therefore, as this policeman, an animal, ran over the bridge, I demand that he, an animal, be fined with the other animals (f^pplause from the spectators, who never sympathize with tLe minions of the law). The case was closed with remark — •' Eight dollars and fifty cents and costs." The attorney and judge's terms of office were near expiration, so fees were their sole aim. Two days after a grand parade marched through the streets to the .■■^^; depot, consisting of the two ponies and carriage draped in mourning, :••■: with an emblazoned banner bearing thereon, " Eight dollars and fifty 'T^Vcents and costs," Six stalwart men held the reins of the miniature ;/;■■ equines. The judge and county prosecutor were not re-elected. Now for Bruin. We never muzzled or put a ring in the nose of any bear ;>:we have used for exhibition, but it takes a wary eye to keep watch on ;•> the paws of Bruin, as he handles them so quickly and with utter dis" ■^-••'..'•v regard of the Queensberry rules, and his blow is always swift and cat like. :V;.'"'^v. ■■■■<;<■ '•..;s''t ^Mf:' . 'x^^'-y'm^ ■•^•••1 ,»v: ■•"••.''.'.•"■ v: •,■•,•" "rJ-J, I —77— Some four years ago a large bear I Ind escaped from the baggage car by slipping ofif bis collar. We were just outside the depot at Wheeling, W. Va. Off started "Ursa Major" with uegroes scamper- ing in every direction, until he struck the Iron Works, where puddlers and others workers threw down their tools and picked up their weapons for the chase. Followed by yellb, runs, doubling runs, and shouts, the bear kept well ahead, until finally disgusted with their imprecations he found a corner, then abruptly wheeled around and faced his pursuers, who, to a man, incontinently turned and fled. Puffed and blown I arrived there with my son and a bag of candy, and in a moment slipped on the collar and led him back w triumph. If not teased a bear can be made somewhat tractable. The eve is an easy index of his temper, and the only emollient I have fou'. 'or his hardened nature, even in angry moments, is sugar. A wolf is also supposed to be unloving, crafty and rapacious, but if taken young they may be made almost affectionate or dog-like. One we brought up, a magnihcent specimen of the Tnnber Wolf (Lupus Canadiensis), travelled with us thousands of miles. He never snarled unless disturbed when eating, and it was a matter of extreme difficulty to keep him from perpetually kissing the faces of those he knew and liked. This may be an isolated case, but it goes to show that kindness is an important factor in softening the nature even of savage beasts. CHAPTEE XXII. PERIPATETIC. My second wife, who now lies slumbering in Calvary, New York, was known as May Robinson. She possessed a wonderfully high voice, and, having a capital idea of stage business in lighter class of comedies, she gave me the idea of essaying a petite musical company under the title of the Bijou Opera Company. Under this high-sound- ing appellation we endeavoured to eke a living in small towns. Many -78- were the weary hours i passed iu endeavouring to worry through to a brighter future. I becaUiO a better physiognomist than Lavater, and could tell at a glance the disposition o^ a landlord or printer, from a monetary point of view. I met sunshine and storm with a prepon- derance of the hitter. On the Weliand Canal, which they were then extending, we encountered one peculiar experience. It was pay-day at Port Hobinson. A largo audience, composed of the tough element, who were also full of spirits, greeted us. The entertainment pro- gressed amidst din and disorder. A fight commenced in the reserved seats. I expostulated. A burly navigator shouted, "(to on, Harry, they'll be through in a minute." Rush— melee — lull— interval — then same act repeated, when 1 saw the proprietor of the hall remonstrat- ing. Another rush — a broken door and boisterous flying exit of land- lord. Another dose of this and visions of a similar exit of performers floated through my mind. There was a roof from the dressing-room window leading to the ground. Some one must be sacrificed. Wc had reached the final act, so I put my wife and another lady through the window, the rest following them quickly, one by one, until there was only one gentloraan {in utter ignorance of our escape), who was giving an elongated musical specialty. He had to bear the brunt, and did so manfully, as he was captured by tiie audience, who insisted on his filling the programme, and who, finally imidst Babel worse con- founded, fell upon each other like Kilkenny cats —and all was still. Like Oliver Twist, we kept moving on and amused sparse audi- ences in halls which varied from opera house to quasi dog kennels. One in particular, Coboconk (immortalized by Jimuel Briggs), invari- ably chills me at mention of its name. Outside 40° beiow zero ; in- side an audience of 40. One Sjove inside the hall, whieh was sur- rounded by the forty. It was so cold thai the performers would ap- pear iu turn, leave the stage, and then huddle sympathetically with the audience round that stove. All performances must e)id, so, at conclusion, I washed my face in the dressing-room, picked up a towel — and — the towel - stood and mocked me, having been frozen as firm as a policeman's club. 1 have since wo»)dered at our pertinacity, and have discovered that the adage, "Perseverantia obstaet rerum," is un- true if taken as a theatrical proverb. A Canadian tour iu winter— with thermometer down — «now covering the earth— with an eager and a nippnig air— is not desirable, and talk as they will of the beauties of the sleigh ride, with its accom- paniment of jingling bells, I have always thought after a twelve mile ride that I would rather take mine on the first of Julv. Tn the sum- mer Canada is a paradise— when with verdure clad I have walked miles and revelled in its gorgeous leafy woods and clear, balmy air. There are so many peculiarities in the towns of the Dominion, where race and religion difter so much. Take Alexandria, Ont., to wit. It does not remind you of its namesake in Egypt, nor that sleepy city in Virginia, whore I have sat in (leorge Washington's master's chair (masonic), but it may remind you of the "Hielands." Six hotels, kept by six Macdonalds. Call Mhc ! and every inhabitant turns his head. The Macdonalds ai'e so numerous that they bear prefixes, as Sandy, Lang Sandy, Wee Sandy, Rory, Lang Eory, and one Rory who bears the appellation of Kory the . Fill up the vacuum with the mother of dogs and you have it. If you know a few sentences o*' Ciaelic you are sure of unbounded affection and unlimited whiskey. It may be clannish, but tiie heart goes with it. I have heard it said by enthusiastic Scotchmen that Gaelic was the language spoken in Eden, to which has been added, wit'j show of reason, "Very true, for there is only one, ^Jie Divinity, who could understand it." In the Quebec province there you strike the French Canadian, and I have been iu towns where no English is spoken. Take Point au Pic (Mur- ray Bay), where, on one summer's tour, I was illustrating negro char- acter. It was Greek to the audience, and I found that I must make a bold strike for favor, so from compulsion I would vary the dialect from pure Southern negro to gags and sentences in Canadian patois, which aroused the habitant to delirious frenzy, but I am afraid the unities were considerably demoralized. This is only a sample of Quebec villes, and yet it occurs in Ontario, and there is a Germany there also, of which Berlin (Ont.) is the capital. I have found Dutchmen (I beg pardon, Germans) more phlegmatic (and I have played in Ham- burg, Germany) than any race, although when they warm to you they are warm in the extreme. It has been said Indians are non-ap- preciative. Just after the war I had several Indian experiences in Michigan (Midland City, «S:c.), when I was the pioneer of dramatic — 8o— civilization, and even of late years I was at Parry Sound during the government pay and had quite a sprinkling of the only real Anierican, *'Lo, the poor Indian," and I noted that music, particularly a banjo or guitar, had power to soothe their savage breasts. At the first tinkle their grim, hard visages would relax, and pleasure would be de- picted on their faces. In Orillia I was more than startled ou one oc- casion. We were enacting a Wild West impossibility, where stage Indians entered, and after an exaggerated war dance round the come- dian scalped him. I heard a terrific yell. An Indian, loaded with rum, was seated in front of the house, and this had aroused his dor- mant nature. The next thing I saw was the noble savage making an enforced departure, accompanied by an ignoble peace ofiicer. The red man is not as congenial an auditor as the colored descendant of Ethiopian kings. I do not know any audience more appreciative of a comedian's vagaries than a nigger. Divested of their perfume, what pleasanter picture is there than to see, as I have often seen, the gal- leries of Baltimore, Richmond and the sunny South filled with five or six hundred ebony faces, and note their chasmatic mouths (resembling those of a codfish fully extended) and exhibiting r ' .i of shining ivories, from which cavernous openings emitted a continuous Yah ! Yah ! Yah ! CHAPTER XXm. DRAMATIC AGENCY. I remember one morning in '78, when the Bijou Opera Company had struggled as far as Rome, N.Y. (then bearing the opprobrium of being a dramatic Golgotha), that I suddenly determined, in prize- fighters' phraseology, to throw up the sponge; so, with very indefinite purpose and a more than indefinite amount of cash, I made my way, via steamboat, to the cosmopolitan city. I landed there with very little metallic substance, so depositing my wife in tolerable comfort, I wandered aimlessly around, and passing 8th street saw a sign — " Carlisle and Caverly, Dramatic Agency." I entered and found the agency in articulo mortes, and the landlord, sizing up the remnant^ sO: —81-- catching at a straw. I enquired his rental, etc. On receiving a reply I hastened to the only friend I could find, borrowed money enough, and in two days a new banner— "The Metropolitan Dramatic Agency," hung on the outward walls. I made semblance there of business, and anxiously awaited the advent of a customer. At length one came, a long raw-boned Texan. His first query was : " Have you many people on your books '?" Regardless of the fate of Ananias and Sapphira, I answered " Yes ; hundreds." He was a good sample of a southern variety manager. In a few words he told me his wants, said you want your fee, threw down a twenty dollar bill, and then I commenced to search for, as he phrased it, " twenty girls, don't matter whether they have much talent or not, so they are good look- ers." My commission was 10 per cent., taken out of the artists' salaries, and I shipped supplies of variety people to his circuit, com- prising four houses for eighteen months. My time was now spent veritably on the jump. My clients were principally variety people, and the line of demarcation between them and actors was clearly drawn, although now adays, since the reign of farce comedy, it has been nearly worn away. They would enter the office with a jaunty air, the men bearing the distinguishing trade mark— a plug hat — and the ladies assuming an air and manner quite prononce. One of the earliest visitors came in smoking a villainous tenement house cigar, with clothes a little fringed at the edges, a brassy chain, show- ing evidence of keys attached ; gloves, through the end of which an occasional finger was obtruding, and with a patronizing debonnair manner, exclaimed : " Say, do they want me in Boston or Philly ?" '• No," I replied, " I can perhaps put you in Hoboken next week." '• Nothing less than fifty a week catches me," was his next announce- ment. " All right; I'll give you twelve." He went away, returned shortly after and accepted. In course of my agency season I took also management of Court Square Theatre, Brooklyn, which proved a fizzle to proprietors, and also filled in time when actors were scarce at Olympic, Hoboken, Newark, Harlem, and other theatres. In fact I was a stop gap. Noting an advertisement in the New York Clipper for manager of the Third Avenue Theatre, which never seemed to pay, I applied, thinking it would benefit the agency. It was at a down town office —82- tbat I entered and staied my businea«. "You are about tJ sixteenth applicant," said a gentleman in an easy chair. "Yourrecommuudation." "Well, I can lose money slower than the others." "All right," said the gentleman, "go to my clerk and receive your instructions," which I did. I kept the situation long enough to make the Theatre pay, and to find the owners a desirable tenant. My rule of the Theatre was strict, and 1 tried to keep up the standard of modesty, cleanliness and purity of tone, and paid good salaries to the elite of the variety profession, such as Pat Rooney, Big Four, Delehanty and Hengler, Miss Mayo, etc. Pat Rooney was ready witted. Early in my management some countryman of the distinguished exaggerated Hibernian threw a dried herring from the gallery. Pat looked at it a moment, then looking up at the gallery with grin, retorted, " You'll want that before Lent is through." Poor Pat ; I saw his first appearance and his last, as six months ago he virtually left the stage at Wilmington, Delaware, for he left that city, accmpar'ed by o ir good wishes, one day to die in New York the next. Amongst these votaries of song and dance, serio-comic vocalism, acrobatism and other adjuncts, there were many who had risen from the curbstone, which recalls a special rule I had posted in Theatre " No blasphemy, no double entendres, no appeals to the Deity allowed in this house," when a clever performer came to me and said, " Say, who is this Deity on them rules ?" They are kind-hearted, 1 can say from experience, and I have business- managed many and various descriptions, even Jake Aberles (who had a daughter whose name as an actress was a familiar jokf in N.Y.), and others in the city and rural districts. I have not been compelled to ask help from my dramatic freres, but some time later than this, when lying prostrate, sick and alone at the St. Charles in New York, the people who visited my bedside were all of the variety profession, and when I was helpless, with mind wandering, I saw two angels of this class soothing me who ere they departed had slipped ten dollars under my pillow. Without egotism I may say I never refused a similar knid- ness to any one of our sufferers if T had it. To resume, I was forward- ing people to all points of the compass, but maybe I was a little too conscientious, a« I tried to send the best of talent, and never, as is often the f*ase Rccepteddourmr, and furthermore, l)eing a fellow artiste. [ could iifA refuse temporary loans, etc., so the a^encv didn't amount -■83- to much as a financial institution, except on the books. I was sorely pressed, for my wife was at this period dying of consumption, and my little girl was also cut off, with other minor troubles. During all this time I was putting on afterpieces and farces, during the action of which thoughts of my wife at home would intrude, and when the end came, with pallid death staring me iu the face, I had still to put on the same idiotic grins and utter the same flashes of humour "which were wont to set the tables in a roar." Shortly after this Ihe owners seeing an advantageous chance of disposing of their lease let the house go, and with best of wishes to me they offered me the gross receipts of the Theatre for one night for a benefit, and to this call over 150 variety people responded with their services. Finding N. Y. uncon- genial, I accepted an engagement to tour with Col. Franklin Warner and his " Platoon Dancers," commencing in Baltimore, in which com- pany I was, in conjunction with May Arnott, giving a sketch (with optical delusions) entitled "Salon du Diable," and representations of Gen. Grant. This lasted some short time and then I departed for Canada. CHAPTER XXiV. THE LAND OF EVANGELINE. On arrival ui Toronto, it 1878, I musit make a confession — and honest coufes.sioii is good for tbe soul. I acceptiKl an engagement as stage manager of the Queen < Theatre (variety), ooing --hort of rex pccH^morum. The lemipJe h»i i»e*u .«r^\n»Ily designed by Spackman nani fitted iq) as a theatre w^a tiff* bad burned down the Lyceum. Den. Tliiii^innii lM«e ^ndetvoiimd «o whip his Josh Whitcomb into i^M|iri. bac s^l! it migr^it be <^»s9td a IHve. 1 thought ( might im- prove on the past, hai the maiiagement would not give much scope. I- irst part, whore l)«Ji jokes an*, mdiflforent singing formed the neucleus of the entoitaninient then tr ts. nigger act^, dizzy serio-comics and, occasionally, prize-figh ishmg, probably, with a red fire melodrama. The artists were inferior, the public who patronized it -84- seemcd to want tilth, ad the theatre ituelf was equally dirty. Id fact, I beard a prize tighter, named Joe Goss, who was filling the house, once remark, on seeing the dressing-room, with strong exple- tives, "What an ole ; it hain't tit for an og." Being disgusted with ray surroundings, 1 made an engagement to go to Newfoundland with Will Naunary, and arrived in due course in the capital of Nova Scotia. Halifax, with its blue-blooded Haligoniaus, for that is their nomenclature, makes another bitter memory. I was inveigled into becoming manager of its Academy of Music. The allure- ments held out wero so captivating that I swallowed the bait, hook and all. Wealth was given me to go to New York and bring on a company, so I steamboated there and brought back ray huraan freight (actors). I opened the season with "London Assurance," Helen Adell as "Lady Gay," and a fair company, including a "Jonah." Mr. Delafield was the reputed Jonah, in stage parlance one whose presence betokens evil. I had first met him in England, where his failing was litigation, which cost him the deadly enmity of Dion Boucicault, who drove him out of the country. He had probably been associated with more failures than any man of his inches — and he was tall. When I left New York I Lad the dismal forebodings of all the craft, which makos me digress here, commencing with a quotatiofi from "La Mas- cotte." " Signs, omens, dreams, predictions, They surely are not fictions." An actor has his whims, cranks and superstitions, and of the latter they are as numerous as mosquitoes in Jersey. The fact of walking under a ladder may be unlucky, because there is an element of danger occasionally therein, but what can be said of one standing well ni the profession, who. seeing a Hunchback, would walk a mile to slyly touch his hump, as being surely provocativo of good fortune. An umbrella opened upon the sta^ wwttld cause tha corps draraatlque alnasst to faint with horror, whilst the fracture of a drfl»«»ing-room lookmg-gliass would entail tm univwsaJ showt, " Seven yearn bad luck." A dead iiead (An^licc a pennon who (ioep not pay) entering the thea^ire first will, acctarding to many, ^nunisk the yiunpetiltlve receipts, &m\ I hm^ knowrn a star* to ste^ the distrihiitioii of small band bills because they were pinJc (an adverse color). ,\ t'rlrbrated V i » I -85- star stood at the door with me and saw a cross-eyed boy entering with a paid ticket. •' Here," said ho to the boy, " Is fifty cents, now go home." The boy, perplexed, left, but after the star's departure returned with another paid ticket. The house was a medium one. I told the star of the boy's action, and he replied exultingly, " I knew it — cross-eye— Jonah." Some door-keepers wih not allow a woman to be the first to enter. A theatre transformed from a church is supposed to be a receptacle of misfortune. Of these I remember two in New York — one Laura Keene's and another on 8th street, both symbolical of evil. The dressing-rooms of the latter were cavernous, damp and clammy, and on dit that people had lain there hi the sleep that knows no waking. The dressing-rooms were vaults. Mose Fiske, a genial, whole-souled comedian, would emerge from his gloomy retreat below with a grin and would remark to tlio underpaid fairies (who manage to put on a heavenly smile on their small salary), that he had been having a lovely communion with the spirits. To them they were of a heavenly sphere. To Mose they were ynritus frumenti and of the earth — earthly. Number thirteen bodes evil outside of our ranks, but hotels, where actors most do congregate, have obliterated or changed number thirteen. Again, why actor:' are so particuilar to see the moon over the left shoulder and throw spilt salt in the same direction come with other oddities from Puritan days. Their ideas are as primitive as those of a Washington negro playing policy, and Jonah is only another variety of the " Voodoo." \ have gone through this catalogue as most of them occurred in this city and preceded our downfall, although I am more a believer in iuit "Divinity which shapes our ends." We gave tlu* umnd at uuvelties, and after two weeks the backing of the concern was not forthcoming, and to get company back to New York and pay their salaries devolved on mo but as a dramatic Hercules I was a failure. 1 worked like the proverbial Beaver. For the Christmas holidays George IMrd and myself, tragedian and comedian, deaceudf^l from the pedestal of fame and went on as pantaloon and clown, severally, in a purely English Panto- mime which drew good houses. 1 soon discovered that the mine of patronage which I had fully worked had run out. These nights were social events. Firstly, under the patronage of iSir Patrick Maodougal, then the Lieutenant-Governor ; then Sir Edmund Tilover. —86— followed by officers of the various English regiments stationed there, including Col. Drayson, of the Engineers, a literary army authority and a fair writer of light plays; then the fleet and civil authori- ties, until finally I looked around for more, and could find no one more distinguished than a Hog Reeve. When at a low ebb there arrived another deinuralizc^d host from Newfoundland, who naturally sought me, and I engaged nearly all of them. Amongst them was a Halifax favorite, Frank Itoche, a noble looking fellow and one of the few actors to whom tights were an addition to his personal graces. Shakespearian plays without a double, with Misses Adell, Bertha Welby, etc., faikd to draw, until at last, wearied by the public lack of appreciation, I put on '• Buffalo Bill," with combats, Indians and prairie fires, and nearly burnt down the theatre, but filled the Audi- torium with a cultured audience. Jane Shore burlesques, etc., fol- lowed ; still debts accumulated, and being hunted from pillar to post I at last learnt my first experience of prison life. There is a villainous institution called the law of " Capias," for on the mere oath of a creditor " that he has reasonable expectation that the debtor is about to leave the province," even for as small a sum as five dollars, his body is liable to remain in jail for a considerable period, unless bail can be procured, which, in the case of an actor or stranger, may be a matter of reasonable uncertainty. A critical period is generally chosen, to wit, when the actor is about to goon the stage, and I found myself one evening in the unenviable position of no pay no play. 1 managed to secure bail, but this was continued (id infinitum, until finally I took the bull by the horns, marched to jail, surrendered to my bail for about a dozen claims, and applied for a release in forma pauperis. 1 discovered to obtain release as a pauper requires money. The garrison, like good-hearted fellows, proffered to settle my debts, but I gave up my property, consisting of several hats, battered and worn, dilapidated and variegated pants and other miscellaneous effects. I found during my sojourn in that dreary pile, that amongst my predecessors had been E. Sothern, John T. Raymond, W. Naun- ary, and since then many other managers. I have yet to learn that it has been the means of obtaining debt, whilst it would prevent any one once away from ever bearing it in mind, My company had gone on without me to Kemptville, and I left the city without a very tender farewell. V--1.., * »-87-- CHAPTER XXV. ACAniE. Our peregrinations took us a voyage to wliere the poet adds Ijis charms. " In the Acadian land, on the ahorea of tho Hay of Minas, Distant, aechuled, still, the littlf village of (irand PiV- Lay in the fruitful valley.'' In other word.!, we toured the land of *' EvaugeUne, and, although Longfellow is ia error in one or two instances, one tii'ds the 'luitful- ness of the valley still remains, but the bulk o' ihat fruitfulness con- sists of apples, which are of enormous size, whilst the dikes still re- main as monuments of man's industry. The Annapolis valley is not a rich dramatic orchard, but reaching Yarmouth we had tlie unusual experience of a railroad company (West- ern counties) peremptorily closing iheir tratfic and leaving ms isolated in that town for a month without egress, either by land or sea. During this period we produced "Pinafore," drama and burlesque, but there is one wlio does not become surfeited with food— dramatic or otherwise — if too plentifully administered. I had forgotten one exception — the confirmed toper, who will persist until delirium tremens or the grave ends his miseries. In fact, I have seen in the Htiite of Maine every conceivable fiery liquid product consumed — alcohol simple, alco- hol and Jamaica ginger, quinine wine, and even turpentine. It was the ending of winter, but everything frozen— the roads almost impas- sible—ocean boats not running— and "Othello's occupation gone." The railroad company refused even an engine, and in dire despair I appealed for the use of hand cars (or trolleys as denominated in that section), so that we might reach our next stand, Digby(famous for Digby chickens, a species of herring), which was distant some 00 miles away. Permission having ultimately been obtained, and being armed with picks and shovels six hand-cars full of live freight and dead baggage started. Twenty person^ on a journey possess generally some jollity, but I never sav. misery so universal. Our leader, Napoleon Gilles, a Frenchman, was humpbacked — a synonym of bad luck. Poor fellow, he was old, and when wrapped up for this journey he looked like a IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) /. t^ Zi 1.0 I.I |M ■^" IffllaaE ^° h£ III 2.0 1.8 L25 lilU ||i!ii.6 % <^ /}y ^ A^/ V] em. <^i^ ' :> 4k '' \ <$» ^^ o / Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 {716) 872-4&03 S^ ^m :\ \ —103— although his company was to appear a week behind me, was, on my opening day, billing as if life depended on it, and at noon I found liim at the large factory putting out his programmes. I stood beside him, and as the employees, nearly all French-Canadians came out, I spoke to them in their own patois, extolling my own show of that evening and denouncing him as a fraud, to his utter bewilderment and my own profit. Onward, still onward through circuits in Massa- chusetts, etc, like Joe Noyes, where you have to wait for pay day, and thence through Jersey, where it seems to me the glass-makers were always on strike ; thence to Atlantic City, which is certainly emblematic of jollity, and down to Chester, Pa., which had for a janitor, Fred. St. Leger, a good fellow, but the local gamins have bap- tized him " Hard Face," and so on to Wilmington, Deleware, where there is one theatre too many, and by easy stages to Alexandria, and thence to one of the unholy cities, Norfolk, Va. The diet on a trip like this will strike one as varied. Maine has no bread scarcely, it is hot biscuits, and I have sat down to breakfast in small town where hot mince pie was the star, whilst pork and beans were never absent, and as you get southward you see in Virginia and North Carolina eternal corn bread and pork and fried chicken, and find that sweet potatoes are recognized familiar, every meal, friends, so that it is absolutely necessary that good digestion should wait on appetite. The dialect is liable to almost as many changes, for even the days of "Uu Tell" and "I want to know" are not departed, and more southerly you find " Where are you going at ?" and further on the interpolation of the word "all" into nearly every sentonce is not obsolete, whilst the word "carry" is misplaced woefully, to wit, a gentleman proudly in- formed me that "Last evening he carried four ladies to the opera," and another that he " Had carried a full rigged ship from Elizabeth City to Wilmington," rather a muscular effort if taken literally. However, they have the word " tote," which is euphonious and expressive enough in lieu of carry. The tour from Norfolk southward is varied by uncomfortable railroads, bad hotels and worse halls. One hotel in Ehzabeth City is kept by a former lighthousfj keeper — Captain by courtesy — who, as he presides at the serving of dainties, will contin- ually inform you of his advantages, as thus : " You don't get fed this way north !" " What do you think of them turnips ?" etc. Taking I — 104- this route you will find, as you reach Edenton, North Carolina and the Sound, fishing on a mammoth scale, as the seines are pulled in by steam, and anything less than a horse windlass would be consid- ered infra dvjnatate. To reach Little Washington one has to take the cars from Jamesville over the most primitive or dilapidated railroad. We rebaptisod it " The one suspender railroad." It is about forty miles long. Its rolling stock consists of one old-time locomotive, which breaks down once every two weeks ; a worked-over street car and a flat car, whilst I have seen a nigger used as a head light, inas- much as he sat on front of locomotive holding a lantern and peering ahead to see if the rails had spread or departed bodily into the swamp, and I have known the engineer to keep train awaiting whilst he and his colored aides got off and sawed wood. The conductor is express agent, civil engineer, repair shop, baggage man and his own auditor. He was a whole-souled Englishman whom I had met in Worcester- shire, so he insisted on stopping his train at Diamond City (two houses in a swamp), where he resided, and allowed the passengers to view the scene whilst we ate dmner. I have patronized the route on Sbveral trips, but t)ie programme never varied, except once, when the engine parted and went to Washington — ten miles — without our company. A ride up the Tar river does not present much diversified scenery, but Tarboro, at its head, is a progressive town, and Raleigh, the capital, is as prettily located a city as man could desire, with the best of people tenanting it, and the old southern spirit of chivalry still extant in their bosoms. In Raleigh tUere stands on a back street a dilapi- dated looking two-story frame house, which a friend of mine said was formerly the house of President Andrew Johnson. Anyway, it would be a fitting addition to the World's Fair. As this tour is almost an epidemic with me of late years, I must be excused if I do not par- ticularize as to dates. My friend, Will Hunter, of Goldsboro, N.C., has, like myself, a love for canines, and at his excellent hostlery he had a pack of fox hounds, a St. Bernard, two coyotes and about forty other kinds, whilst in addition he has a rausee of curiosities of ante bellum times, and if anything could be more amusing than to see his bounds chase a jaded fox, who will finally take refuge in a tree, I want to see it. y»^ SK^* 4' r- •^- • » ^ ■t '^ —105— In New Berno, N.C., I have many friends, and have for some years visited the State game, tish and oyster fuir there. On one of my visits it was my lot to arrive with the memory of a ** Red Stocking Female Minstrels," fresh in their remembrance. The manager met me at depot, and his first exclamation was, " Sorry you came ; the legs have killed the business ; nothing will draw." 1 felt of the same opinion, but genial Governor Fowle (he died in office last year, re- gretted by all), was in the city, I solicited his name as a patron, but it was an impossibility. I then asked if he would allow his daughter, Miss Helen, to come. " Certainly," said he. I rushed to office for sale of reserved 8fc.t,ts ; marked twelve seats off the plan with the magic words " Miss Helen Fowle" underneath, placed it in the window, and as a result had the house crowded with the elite. It has been said there is no aristocracy in America, but this is an instance which goes to prove that there is the same rush after noble person- ages which characterizes the pjfete monarchies. During their last fair the rush of people was so great that hotels were unattainable, having been booked for weeks ahead. Actresses and* actors did not long for a small room with five or six in it, so, as a derucier resort, I asked the W.M. of the Masonic fraternity for the loan of the lodge and ante- rooms, who kindly consented. There I ensconced the company with improvised beds and accompaniments, and was tortured every few minutes with the child artiste who wanted to see the goat. This lodge has one of the oldest charters in America, and it seemed a dese- cration for us to cook oysters, tea, beefsteak and other edibles and liquids in a chamber rich in ancient memories, and on a carpet pre- sented by General Ben. Butler, as the furniture was destroyed during the war, when this building was used for a hospital. Underneath the theatre, even now, may be seen a quantity of unused coffins, which were made by contract and too small at that for the slain of the rebel- lion. It is a dictum of the Declaration of Independence that all men are born equal. But separate coaches on railroads, separate places in theatres, separate schools, atte^-^t the inequality of the colored race, and I would not care to see it otherwise. I once rode on the cars with a law maker, " Congressman O'Hara." of Kinston (known as the black district), who was compelled, as are his less learned brethren, to ride in the second class. He is thoroughly African in appearance, — io6 — and gave rae this anecdote, which he seemed to enjoy : *• In Charles- ton the Congressman was taking a drink when two Milesian sailors, half intoxicated, came in, they insisted on Iuh drinking, then one asked his name. ' O'Hara,' was the reply. ' O'Hara,' repeated the tar. * How long have you been here ?' ' Three days.' • Three days !' and that complexion. • Let's get aboard ; I'm an O'Brien, but by the hokey I'll not stay three days to see an O'Brien with the complexion of a nager.' " Following this we go southward through Georgia, and detour back, by the inland route, north with but little advantage. ../IP i CHAPTER XXXI. NORTH. I have always made it a point, if practicable, to brpathe Canadian air in the summer. So, if my business was booming or not in more southern latitudes, I would take a flying trip north. Twenty-four years ago in Canada I was the avant courier in Barrie, Collingwood, Owen Sound, &c., and I have kept them always in my view. Of late years I have become a pioneer further north. From Bracebridge I have crossed multifarious lakes for pleasure and profit, and no prettier lakes exist than in the Muskoka district, and their number is legion. From Huntsville I have traversed to the end of one lake only to find it repeated and repeated with others. Bracebridge always seemed to me to be Little England. It is a resort for the descendants of the aristocracy, who find happiness here at less expense than in the Old Country, and, in deference to " 'ome," the principal hostelry bears the glowing title of " The British Lion." Of course there is the inducement of bass fishing all through this country. 'Twas here, as my comedian tells, that one evening, walking pensively along the road, he stopped to note an Irishman with clothes thread- bare, dusty and worn. His shoulders bore the conventional stick and bundle, and his mouth was adorned with a black dhudeen. Just then appeared a small section of a brass band, composed of two horns and /. -^ —107— a big drnra, which preceded a small contingent of sinners with flag and tiiinbourineH. The Irishman enquired : •• Phwat's that ?" to which the reply was given that it was tiie Salvation Array. He rum- inated a few minutes and then ejaculated : " Well, that's a quuare religion. Thirty years ago we only had two religions— Catholicrt and Protestants, and now we have the Jews and the Salvation Army." I have crossed these lakes to get to Parry Sound, hut prefer the route from Peuetanguisheue via. steamer. The 1000 Islands are a national glory, but up here in the Georgian Bay there are thirty-six thousand. I never counted them, but I've struck the top of one of them in a small steamer with a narrow escape from " Davy Jones." The scenery is certainly the wildest and most romantic that can be conceived, and in summer you will see tourists' white tents dot- ting these innumerable resting places. Parry Sound itself is remote enough, and yet in civilization, for good hoteh are there and the buzz of saw mills, but the Indians — rum-icized — still wander in its pre- cincts. One of my children was born here and bears the name of a reverend father, who, for energy, perseverance and self-sacrifice is respected by all denominations—" Pere Laboreau," of Penetang. To the surprise of everybody I have here played for two weeks at a time, and found that ray audience had culture enough to snpreciate only the most refined productions. I have tried Bying Inlet also, and lived on rocks, for such is its location. The rush was so great for one week there that I built dressing rooms in the air, and sold a flour barrel, four people standing on it, for 82 ; the ticket table for $5, and the door taken off the hinges and sold for $5. I was also the first in North Bay and Sudbury. One is surprised to find in these towns, where stumps are still occasionally prevalent in the principal streets, the best class of people, and a local bookstore man informed me in Sudbury that his customers (miners) were not to a dollar if books suited their wants. Mark, I have gone through these regions with twenty people, even in towns like Mattawa, where colossal bould- ers adorn the streets, and where Colonel Rankin once held solitary sway as Hudson Bay representative, but which will ere long loom into importance, as behind it there is the partially developed, but rich country around Lake Tamiscamingue. There rauet be rich minerals around this town, but do not mention gold. The inhabitants have — io8— been salted. Then tliore arc other towns of similar description all through the North, where the people have not been soured or disgust- ed by the influx of worse natures, and, therefore, will give kindly wel- come to the poor player. There the "dead head" has not yet been invented, which recalls a fact that occurred to me in Morrisburgh this wmter. I was in ray bedroom witli wife and children when a rap at door was followed by the entrance of a muscular looking christian with high boots well muddod and a yellowed overcoat and multifrrious whiskers. He effusively rushed in, took my hands with horny grip and said : " Well, Harry, I am so glad to see you." I am a little non- plused, but I have met so many people that it does not do to hesitate, so I responded, " So am I ; you're looking well," awaiting some clue. " By thunder, you're getting fat. I like to see my friends get on." No thread or clue. I think m vain. •* And that's your wife. She ain't looking so well." I imagine this must be some intimate friend, but no vision of the past appears, so I followed with, " Ah, yes, I'd almost forgotten, where did we last meet?" He responds, " Why, you know Sherbrooke, me and you had drinks together at the Magog ten years ago." I inwardly utter long time between drinks — wishing him far, far away. •' Them's your children, eh ? What's this uns name? " Mystic." " Gosh, that's an all-fired rum name. And tother little girl." •' Laboreau," I reply. " Well, have you soaked much money?" All this time I'm getting perplexed as to this big-booted gentleman's ideas, so to change the subject I ventured to remark, " Barley's low, isn't it ?" " Low ! I believe you. I made up my mind when I seed your pictures on the fence I was coming — yes, sir ; I must see your show." I thank him. '• Yes, we had several shows here— Cy Perkins, you know hira I guess, he was here. Big price ; I didn't go, thought I'd wait for you." Again I thank him. " Wall, Harry, it does me good to see you. Mind you, I don't want to see your show, I seed it at Sherbrooke ten years ago, but I told the old woman and the youngsters, so you might jest as well give me four tickets for them, I don't want none myself." I give them and sanc- tify his retreat. — loq— CHAPTKR XXXII. . MY MARYLAND. With " The CastawayH," a nautical play— my own adaptation — I have toured every o»ty alinont in Ohio, Pennsylvania and tlie Middle States, but from all one night stands, I aay, " Good Lord deliver us." I have also known what it is to travel there sick with *' la grippe," and unable to speak above a /liisper. FuuiUy, in the mountains of Tennessee I had to succumb, and allow my wife to play ray part. In Philadelphia, aftjr first nif,'ht's porfornuincc, I arranged with Forepaugh for ray son, Walter, to walk in his father's shoes. When in Asheville, N.C., whore Vandtrbilt is spending millions, I was knocked over by cold. A doctor came, felt my pulse, prescribed and said, "This is chronic, is it? Well, you'll be well directly. Our city is noted for its health." (It was at this period foggy -cold, bitter cold, muddy, rainy.) I have remarked that for inv^alids this is the climate. " Why, wo are 8,000 feet above the sea." I replied, " Put me in Maryland on the eastern shore, one inch above the sea, and I'll recover," and it was true. Did any of our readers ever visit the •• Eastern Sho," so called because it is located on that side of a glorious ,^ea, " Chesapeake Bay." Commencing at Baltimore and ter- minating at Norfolk, it is, without uwubt, the richest bay in the world, and in addition it is a paradise to the sportsman. One of my friends, eulogizing its manifold beauties, summed up when asked for a descrip- tion by saying : " Well, oysters in it and peaches out of it." Like him I could rhapsodize on the charms of ** My Maryland " without ceasing, only I fear that readers might take this for an emigration prospectus. The Peninsula, as ii la known, is composed of portions of three States, Maryland, Deleware, and for reasons unknown to me, Virginia. Fancy a railroad (over one hundred and fifty miles) tra- versing its centre, and ballasted with oyster shells. Imagine all the pike roads shell roads. Think of towns, 4,000 inhabitants, like Cris- field, built on oyster shells, with no fresh drr^.king water, but relying on " the gentle dew from heaven." Conceive a continent deriving the bulk of its oyster supply from this and its kindred bay Deleware, and •II one cannot fail to wonder at the extraordinary fecundity of the bivalve. Fibh unlimited, and terrapin not scarce, with that extraordinary esculate, the soft shell crab, in plenty. Then the country — almost a level fertile plain— rich in soil; with glorious rivers like the Chester, the Tredtvon, or the Choptauks running through it ; miles of peach trees ; berries unlimited ; tomatoes and sweet potatoes a drug, whilst cereals flourish, and when spring comes and nature is in its best garb, this might stand .is suggestive of the Gar'^en of Eden. Its people proud, hospitable and generous — if one excepts the oystermen, and by excepting them it must be understood that generally speaking they are thr refuse of other cities. Baltimore, sometimes called the Rome of America, is theatrically speaking a city of appreciation. During many years I have played at several Jheatres there. At Front Street Theatre during the reign of many rflanagera, from Col. Sinn onwards, I have supported stars and played my own lurid melodramas, such as "Euchre" (not the Phcenix), Bride of the West, the Castaways, and last year we filled the houso to overflowing during Holy Week with a conglomeration, entitled, •• Sitting Bull, last of the Sioux." The last time I saw J. K. Emmett was some years ago at a benefit, where we assisted — at the Holiday Street Theatre. There is not a town or village in this section from Wilmington to Cape Charles where I do not hold friends. I have toured it with all kinds of attractions, from Alice Gates to " Guild of Dramatic Art," in which latter we carried a brass band, and did a parade on the streets, and since then my own company has become almost a regular institution. At Salisbury. I played in its first theatre, built by a Jewish friend of mine, with a dread of fire, who if he sees red fire on a pan will fol- low the property man everywhere he moves with a section of hose, ready to extinguish flames and property man. I was the first theatrical manager in Cape CharleS; Va., which will be ultimately a large city, and the same in Newport News. Then again at Cam- bridge, Md., which st.inds beautifully on the Choptauk, I am a recog- nized pioneer, whilst Denton, Centreyille and Easton (in which latter town dwells a noble looking representative of the Washington Govern- ment, the talented Senator Gibson) hold me in respect. Going down the Chester river I recently saw the only wild swans in my remem- -^'' •III- brance. On the peninsula I have played state fairs at Dover, Del., which has as high a theatre as any in America, as you travel six flights of stairs to reach it. It is the capital, and a visit to the jail is interesting as one can see- -old time punishments in vogue — the stocks, the pillory and the lash, and from enquiry and observation I have arrived at the conclusion that for crimes perpetrated by negroes, these are deterrents. Then amidst other towns on the other shore I have wandered to Chincoteaque Islands, the home of wild ponies, and the Mecca of sportsmen. Marylaiid is looked upon generally a« a small State, but such is not the case, as its extent is large, and its mineral wealth in addition is fabulous. Cumberland is a fine city, and the coal districts around it are like all others of that nature, but I have kindly memories of Frostburg. In Frederick City one can go around old battle fields, but, although there is the church where " Stonewall " prayed, I think the most rabid Unionist will concede that the verses of " Barbara Frietchie " are a poetic myth. AnnapoUs, the capital of Maryland, with the finest location conceivable, does not strike one very favorably. It seems like a relic of a past era, if one excepts the beautifully laid out Naval Academy. Its streets ars quaint, * and, Bcstonian, leading to anywhere but where you expected to go, and then you have streets with ancient nomenclature ; even Anne Arundell is not forgotten ; whilst you can see the former home of Lord Baltimore, and can find the oldest records of estate sales in America. The state house will not enchant lovers of architecture. On my last visit a Gas Bill was on, and the legislators lolled, talked, smoked and spat in fact, a bear garden could not be more animated. The city has its counterpart theatrically and otherwise in Alexandria, Va. Neither of them is progressing, and in the latter city Braddock's meeting place with Geo. Washington was being used as a chicken house when last I saw it, although they have scrupulously guarded his masonic chair. — na — CHAPTER XXXIII. CAPTAIN CRAWFORD— STAGE CHILDREN— POCAHONTAS— DRUMMERS. In conversation with Capt. Jack Crawford, the "Poet Scout," I was led to ruminate over the advantages that speculative managers have over the combination manager. When one reflects that in most of these hoases the first money, say $500 to $1,000, is det oted before the company get their half of what follows, and that iti nearly every theatre the lithograph and other privileges amounts to 500 to 1000 free admissions, it is easily seen that "all is not gold that glitters." The Captain had seen the truth of this in a play of his own, and was awaif ing developments when we gave him a benefit in Youngstown, Ohio. I turned out a procession on the streets calculated to inspire the public with dramatic longings. Ten or twelve horses, carriages, cowboys (of native manufacture), negroes (of cork descent with burnt cork physiog- nomies), Indians (as red as ochre could make them), Irishmen (as stagy as could be devised), and a Jew on horseback. The Jew was mounted on a mule which was suffering from dyspepsia, the Indian was throwing summersaults, and a brass band doled out G. A.R. strains, We drew the house. Crawford is an able raconteur of stories. His poems are of the home-spun school, but they have a jingle and the " Bret Harte " flavour, and his career as scout is phenomenal. In course of conversation he gave a resume of his life, and to his credit be it spoken in a career like his, he can boast that neither by desire, cajol- ery or fores has one drop of alcoholic liquor ever passed his lips. In my engagements my experience has been similar to his— the local manager has nearly always the advantage. Touring througli Wheel- ing, W. Va., and cities of that class I have found an attractive child a card, and we have not been subjected to the tyranny of societies for suppression of vice, or other kindred names, who in New York prevent them from earning their bread. I have observed that stage children lire more petted and more cared /or than others, and I know that their intellect or physical power is not over-strained by dramatic work, as witness Bijou Heron >v,'-^^^ • 4 —113— (who in her day was hrightest of them all), Corienne, Elsie Leslie, Little Tommy Russell, the innumerable Evas, and one who was with me two years, Little Mabtl Pa»e, who is now starring south, and is tlie most versatile I ever saw. These children like their work, are pampered by the public, and like older children evince a keen knowledge of the appreciation of the public. My own child. Little Ethel, only three years old, appeared with me in a melodrama in which I enacted a nigger and she an In- dian. The public on one matinee were not so demonstrative as usual and she did not get her recall. Branding at the wing, disconsolately, the tiny one lisped out, *' Um — don't they like me ?'" This leads me on to a little experience where our children were feted in a roughish mining town last Christmas in Pocahontas. Va. A drummer — now I have to digress for a while. Speaking of drummers or commercial travellers. Wha*^^ better friend has the dra- matic profession ? He will extol his wares during tLd day but he will generally manage to advertise a show at the same time. They will pay their money more freely than others, make a point to visit every attraction, and what is extraordinary, will go out of their way to praise rather than condemn. Perhaps it is Bohemianism — or is it that these knights of the road are chastened by travel pi has been caused in clerical circles by the suspension of Rev. Father Salmon, of the east end. His orgies, it is said, have of Lite been scandalous, and Archbishop Fabre has at length been compelled to act. Salmon has been retired to the monastery at Oka. He thinks he has been badly treated and has appealevl to Rome. At the opening of an A.igUcan Church at Point St. Henri last veek a number of Romanists created a disturbance. The parish priest on Sunday denounced them from the pulpit. THEATRES. " People who nave generally patro- nized the theatre have been of the worst class of society," thundered Dr. Gal- braith last night in the Berkeley Street Methodist Church. He made one of the most severe (ienunciations of the theatre ever heard from a Toronto pulpit. He would not say that no men or women of pure character ever entered there, or that no christians have ap- peared on the stage, but affirmed that people who generally support theatres are the worst class of the community. Good people ought not to be there. - t "All the vices that scatter fortune, produce imr.iorality, undermine health, and that lead to hell are within the precincts of the theatre," exclaimed the pastor. " The blackest rakes, harlots, fallen women, thieves and gamblers go there in multitudes. The average theatre is debasing and demoralizing. It is a so.cne of vice. Persons associated with the stage often leads scandalous lives." This is a sad state of affairs, but if you will refer to last Sunday's Chicago press you will find incarcerated for an abominable offence one Methodist minister, and for other penal sins a Presbyterian, a Baptist and an Episcopalian, showing that vice is not confined to the lloraan Catholic Church, which is purer than the others by contrast. I am not endeavoring to cast discredit upon the church, which has every- thing in it to admire, if the precepts of Christ are followed ; nor am I endeavoring to cast a stone at its exponents, for there are some of the most virtuous and noblest amongst its ranks, and to them is given the greatest of all virtues, "charity." Reverend brother, ^'ou have speci- fied two distinct classes — harlots, fallen women. I am not familiar enough with them to define the distinction. You say, " Persons asso- ciated with the stage often lead scandalous lives." You may search the prison archives and you will not find an actor incarcerated for the lowest class of crime like above quoted. I do not know who patronize Toronto theatres, whether they are the " worst of society," as repre- sented by you or not, but I would consider it an insult if it were said of the pure women who have in Canada patronized me. I have not read so sweeping a condemnation for some time, although I once heard // — 120— the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher preach against theatres, and yet this eminent divine, when over fifty years, was induced to visit Henry Irving and hpd nobihty of soul enough to recant his opinion. Rev. Galbraith, from the tone of your letter, I imagine your experience of theatres must have been of the lowest type, and I ask you to remem- ber that upon the stage, as in the pulpit, we have wives, mothers, sisters, children, and children who are taught to pray as mine have been. HARRY LINDLEY, Comedian. The vapid blatant vapourings of a reverend Boanerges, eager for notoriety, cannot destroy the stage, any more than the bowlings of IngersoUian infidels can destroy the sacred church. The drama, emanating from and illustrated by the church in its miracle plays, has withstood much abuse. Its exponents have met the witberir."' scorn of its detractors, but even if there be an occasional sinner -n U ^.age, shall we destroy what is good in the whole fabric, any more than because there is a Cintwell or a Mawmorn in the pulpit, we should destroy religion itself. I have spoken of Sheridan Knowles, Baptist minister, dramatist, actor. In all his writings — take " Hunchback," " Love," " The Wife, " The Love Chase," &c.— you will not find a purer tone, more brilliant poetry, or nobler sentiment in English literature. You will find in this profession no more ardent worship- pers than its Catholic members. You will find no one more eager to stand well with the religious world than most actors. I have heard them regret that they have had to give up their early teachings in some denomination, and quit the church they loved on account of j ' denunciations. Nearly twenty years ago Mr. Holland, of Wallack's Theatre died. His relatives visited the clergyman of the church where he had wor- shipped, and he refused to read the burial service over the dead actor. The sorrowing relatives queried what they should do ? " Take him to the Little Church Around the Corner," was the response. They did, and found a clergyman who had Christian charity. What was the result ? Every actor in New York looks upon that church as his. He is welcome to God's Temple ; he has a spiritual adviser ; a cer- tainty that when consigned to dust there will be one kindly, reverent 'A , ■^f^j-BT)^. EDWiN BOOTH AS iAGO 30 YEARS AGO. t *».» T" — 121 — minister to pray for his immortal soul, and be knows no sect, denomi- nation or schism, save the " Little Church Around the Corner." To the credit of the profession it may be added that at the present time Dr. Houghton expressed a wish to make improvements, and the actors have subscribed more money than he needed. Now, a word to the members of the Craft. The greatest enemy of the stage is within itself. In England there is a Lord Chamber- lain who acts as censor of the drama, but the public should be its own censor. The tone of plays is not being raised. The old time manager who had pride in his theatre and company has departed ; his tendency was to elevate, but his followers, with few exceptions, have but one thought, gain. If " Thou shalt not " (which fortunately fell flat) should draw money the manager of to-day says the end justifies the means, and produces it. The novels of Zola, which should be interdicted as hotbeds of filth, are it is true sold openly in book stores and on trains. They are supposed to be productions of a great litterateur, but if so, and his descriptions are true of Paris life of to-day, it is a pity that the Germans did not obliterate the city in '67. If life be as Zola paints it, is that life worth living for or worthy of reproduc- tion ? His literary art is praised as being descriptive, but if he had been born a painter he would rather have used his brush in painting a rotten cabbage than a beauteous rose. Then what a fall is there when a theme of his is foisted upon the dramatic public. Take the Cla- menceau Case as another sample. These have found their way into decent theatres, but do not condemn the actors for it is the manager not the performer who is to blame, whilst the public who patronizes these productions and does so knowingly, is not guiltless. Tl'cre is not a disciple of Thespis who would not feel prouder and richer if he were enabled to earn his bread in the loftier or more enuobhng walk of his art. He must live — he is unfitted for other occupation — and to feed himself and wife and little ones, he will barter his manhood for the lure— filthy lucre — held out to him by these traffickers to the desires of the depraved. This has been my experience, and now with best wishes for a higher ione of productions, in which my brethren of the sock and buckskin will join me, I ring down the curtain. '/ ^U ^/ T I COMMERCIAL HOUSE AND HOME FOR THE THEATRICAL PROFESSIOH. QUEEN'S HOTEU BELLEVILLE, ONTARIO. POiAiERS' BROS., • • Proprietors. Tlie Best Commercial Hotel in the City ; also Managers of Opera Honse. / Canadian Plioio Engraving Bureau, i6 ADELAIDE STREET WEST, -^.>.--i-::i-::v:-::i: TORONTO. ::----:=:==^^ Book and Newspaper Work a Specialty. 41 BRITISH iAlHIG^^ KINGSTON, ONTARIO. THE 60th YEAR OP PUBLICATION. Show Printing— Dates. Dodgers and All Other Work at Lowest Rates. >!^\»