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THEATRICAL MANAGEMENT
IN THE WEST AND SOUTH
FOR THIRTY YEARS.
INTERSPERSED WITH
ANECDOTICAL SKETCHES:
AUTOBIOGRAPHICALLY GIVEN
BY SOL. SMITH,
RETIRED ACTOR.
WITH FIFTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS AND A PORTRAIT OF
THE A UTHOR.
" The web of life is of a mingled yarn-good and ill together."
SHAKSPEARE.
NEW    YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,
FRANKLIN SQUARE.
I868.




Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight hundred
and sixty-eight, by
HARPER & BROTHERS,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of New York.
r-                        /A




To HENRY MARSH, ESQ.,
THE BEST DECIPHERER OF OBSCURE, IN.TERLINEATED, AND INTERPOLATED
MANUSCRIPT I HAVE EVER MET WITH,
WHO PRESIDES AS FOREMAN, IN THE UPPER STORY, OF THE IMMENSE
INSTITUTION KNOWN AS THE PRINTING HOUSE OF
IHARPER & BROTHElRS,
AND WHO HAS OCCUPIED THAT EXALTED STATION
(ONE HUNDRED AND SIX STEPS UP TO IT AT PRESENT)
FOR FORTY YEARS OR MORE,
ibtfs Yolunme as most respectfullS ]nscr[hfbe
BY HIS OBLIGED FRIEND AND BROTHER TYPO,
THE AUTHOR.




INDEX TO THE ANECDOTICAL SKETCHES, ETC.


A Stage Funeral.............................Page      13
A   H og  Story......................................  17
First Appearance of Miss Peggy............. 24
Almost a Street Fight............................ 25
Outwitting a Sheriff.............................. 29
Nearly arrested for Pirates............... 30
Dodging the Constables.......................... 32
Star-gazing in Broadway................ 35
The Murderous Alleghanians.............. 43
A Theatre in the Woods.......................... 45
Slow Traveling by Steam..............5.......... 50
The Manager and the Planter.............. 53
A Theatrical Dentist.............................. 55
The Rival Vocalists............................... 56
The Landlord's Disappointment............. 58
Alarm of Fire in a Theatre....................... 60
My first and last Sermon........................ 65
Involuntary Pugilism............................. 69
A   Black  Crowd...................................  73
" Here's your Blood"............................ 74
Lobbying for a Benefit........................... 74
Adventure in the Creek Nation............. 77
Unusual Ceremonies in the Temple of the Sun... 79
Speculation in Whiskers......................... 82
Manager Brown.................................. 85
The sick Frenchman............................. 87
A floating Theatre.................                  89
A Concert in the Dark................     91
A Tennessee Door-keeper................ 92
Almost a  Duel....................................   93
Quarrel of Brutus and Cassius.................... 95
Fire  in  the  Capitol...............................  98
Byrom, the Gambler.............................. 99
Circumstantial Evidence.................   100
A Challenge and a Blow-up............... 100
Punch and Prayers............................... 101
A consolate Widow............................... 102
A Manager for a Minute................. 104
Giving Entertainments.................. 106
A friendly Game of Poker....................        111


P. M. G. in Disguise.........................Page 113
William Tell crushed........................... 17
Attempted Row in Mobile........................ 118
Wouldn't eat his Breakfast....................... 121
Prize Address....................................  125
Rejected Addresses............................... 126
An unpublished Obituary.......................   131
Banishing Rosalind.......................... 137
Father of the American Stage.................... 138
Letters from a Stage-struck Girl................. 141
A   slim   H ouse....................................146
In a tight place pecuniarily....................... 148
Doctoring and Piloting........................ 151
Letter to Rev. Dr. Bullard........................ 158
Don Sol Hemit in Havana........................ 1432
Letter from Chevalier Wyckoff................ 16
M onsieur M atthieu.............................. 173
Friendly Letter to Rev. Dr. Beecher............. 175
An intimate Friend..............................179
The Second Advent..............................180
Court of Uncommon Pleas.......................182
Kicking the Bucket..............................185
Febrifuge and Vermifuge........................187
Tom, the Man at the Curtain.....................187
Breaking  a  Bank.................................189
Letter from a Murderess.................   192
A   hung  Jury.....................................192
Bewailing of a Barge............................ 195
Where's the Swab?............................... 199
Old Rowley Marks............................... 201
Meeting of Snags and Sawyers.................. 203
Second Meeting of Same..............2..........226
A Lapse of twenty Years.................   205
Reply to Rev. Mr. Elliot.................   208
Whole Lengths, Half Lengths, and Miniatures... 218
Manager Potter......................2...... 230
Sunday-night Performances......................2'32
Lending Money in small Sums................... 233
Epilogue........................................ 237
E pitaph.......................................... 276




APPENDIX.
Murder of an  Actor.............................. 243  St. John  the Baptist.............................. 251
Butting an Iceberg............................... 246 New Names for old Farces....................... 265
Monument to Shakspeare........................ 249      Story of a Head.................................. 235
High Tide at Long Branch....................... 250     The Actor and Phrenologist................     268
Complimentary Benefits......................... 250     Prince of Morocco on Horseback.............  270
Committee on Actors and Amateurs............. 251       Logan's Defense of the Stage..................... 271




ILLUSTRATIONS.
Photograph and Autograph......................      6  Quarrel of Brutus and Cassius.............. 96
A Stage Funeral...........................         15 A friendly Game of Poker........................ 113
Old Husband and young Wife.................... 19 William Tell crushed............................. 118
Outwitting a Sheriff........................... 30   Mons     ieur Ma tthieu..................... 174
Syracusan Soldiers and Senators................. 42 Court of Uncommon Pleas....................... 183
Landlord's Disappointment...................... 59 A hung Jury..................................... 194
My first and last Sermon......................... 68 Where's the Swab?............................... 200
War Dance in the Temple of the Sun............. 80    A. Drake's Head.................................. 268




I
I
I




_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _   K & K K A
M\4




PREFACE.
IN times past, when we performed long journeys in stage-coaches, it was
not unusual for passengers to pass a good portion of a night in telling stories and singing songs. Sometimes a new passenger would come into the
coach after dark, and when he found that story-telling and singing were
the order of the night, and when gently informed it was " his turn," he
would most willingly and cheerfully contribute his quota to the general
amusement, and possibly become considerable of a favorite even before his
fellow-travelers had seen his face. Of course all sorts of conjectures were
indulged in as to the personal appearance of the new-comer, and all were
anxious for daylight to appear, so that his face might be disclosed. I have
sometimes been that new passenger, and my desire to see the face of each
passenger with whom I had been conversing, or whose stories or songs I
had been listening to in the darkness, was as great as theirs to see mine.
We were to be fellow-travelers for several days and nights, perhaps, and
what more natural than that we should wish to become acquainted with
each other, and to know how each other looked? And when daylight
came, disappointment in some instances followed the general revealment
of features; for it was not unfrequently found that a bass voice belonged
to a slightly-made, effeminate youth, with a smooth chin, while a fine tenor
voice had proceeded from a Susini-looking individual," bearded like the
pard."
When we read a book, especially an autobiography, we naturally want
to know what sort of a person is the writer. What sort of a looking man
is he?-or woman, if the author be of that denomination.
Now, my reader, as you have purchased this volume, or mayhap taken it
out of the library, I take it for granted you are going to read it, in which
event we are thrown together as companions for several hours at least. I
am going to do my level best to AMUSE you on the way we are to travel;
and, that you may have some notion beforehand what sort of a looking man
is talking to you-for, in the nature of things, I must do all the talking,
while you must necessarily be but a passive listener-I here present you,
transferred to wood for your especial benefit, MY PROTOGRAPH, by a fine artist. On the same card you will perceive that I have given you my AUTOGRAPH, which has been much sought for heretofore-so much, indeed, that
answering letters asking " the favor of your [my] autograph" has occupied
valuable time which might have been more usefully disposed of. All I
need to say hereafter in answer to autograph seekers will be," Dear madam, buy my BOOK, and you will not only have my AUTOGRAPH, but you will
also become possessed of my PHOTOGRAPH and AUTOBIOGRAPH."  (I know




viii


PREFACE.


not if there be any such word as the last, but it will serve for the occasion.)
I can have this brief, and, I trust, satisfactory answer printed or lithographed, ready to send to all applicants; and, if it were possible, I would have a
lock of my hair lithographed, to go with it.
It will be seen that, in preparing these memoirs for the press, very little
regard has been had to the length of the Acts or of the Chapters, the
whole being huddled together somewhat heterogeneously. There is scarcely any uniformity of arrangement; but in relating my simple story I have
endeavored to employ plain language, and to make use of as few words as
possible to express my meaning, and those words are mostly English. It
will also be perceived that I have proceeded on the hypothesis that one can
possibly write amusively without mis-spelling words, as some of our modern humorists consider it necessary and proper to do; and, farther, that I
have generally called persons and things by their right names- as instances, men are called men and gentlemen, and women are called women
and gentlewomen, not lords and ladies; for we have no titled gentry
born here, and the Constitution forbids our acceptance of any title of nobility from foreign governments or potentates.
I do not think proper to say any thing of the EGOTISM which must necessarily pervade a book of this kind-an autobiography, except that I remember reading something to this effect: There is not a person living
upon the face of the earth, be he ever so insignificant or humble in station,
whose history, if truthfully written, would not be interesting, and even
INSTRUCTIVE.
One thing more, and the reader may go to the prologue. Elderly readers may come across some anecdotes in this little book which they have
read before. I have heretofore (in 1845 and 1855) published two small
volumes, which in their day had considerable circulation: some of their
contents are here; and, moreover, a few of the sketches which I herein
give are reclaimed from BURTON'S ENCYCLOPEDIA OF WIT AND HUMOR, in
which they were inserted with my consent; and they will probably be considered none the worse for having been bound up for a dozen years in the
same volume with the humorous writings of such men as Washington Irving, Thorpe, Longstreet, Wendell Holmes, and Hooper.
" These things premised, you have my full consent," gentle Reader, to accompany me through my wanderings, if you think proper to do so; and I
hope you will not have cause to regret the journey.
SOL. SMITH.
Clarendon Hotel, Long Branch, N. J., }
September, 1868.




THEATRICAL MANAGEMENT
IN THE
WEST AND SOUTH,
WITH


ANECDOTICAL SKETCHES..


PROLOGUE.
1801 —1823.


CHAPTER I.
MY early life, until I had arrived at the age of
about thirteen years, was passed in Solon, Courtland County, New York, with the exception of
about one year at the beginning, when Norwich,
Oswego County, was my abiding-place-that village having been the residence of my parents
when I made my first appearance. My father
was a fifer in a volunteer company at the battle
of Bunker Hill, at the age of thirteen or fourteen
years. After his discharge from the volunteer
army he served a regular apprenticeship to the
trade of a goldsmith, and on coming of age he
received from the government a patent for forty
acres of land, which he afterward located in the
military tract in New York, then almost a wilderness. He married early in life, and in due time
became the father of a large family of boys. My
excellent mother's maiden name was Hannah
Holland. She was every thing a wife and mother
should or possibly could be; and although she
seemedto have more than her due share of troubles, she went through all unfaintingly, and never
faltered in the performance of those onerous duties which Providence required her to undertake
in the wild Western country which government
had set apart for the citizen soldiers who had
fought the battles of the Revolution.
My first remembrance is of a log house about
twenty feet square, in which we all lived-the
"big boys," as we children called the elder brothers, sleeping up stairs in the garret (up ladder


would perhaps express the fact more accurately),
while the two youngest of us occupied a trundlebed, which in the daytime was shoved under the
parental resting-place. A loom, two spinningwheels, and under one of the three windows a
work-bench, with the innumerable tools of a goldsmith, together with nicely-arranged "dressers"
(shelves) for plates, platters, mugs, tea-cups and
saucers - chairs, a table or two, pots, kettles,
gridiron, and sauce-pans, filled the one room tolerably well. One side or end of the room, or at
least two thirds of it, was occupied by a huge fireplace; but this took up but little space in the
house, as the chimney was built mostly outside.
Ah! the tremendous fires we have had in that
old-fashioned fireplace! My father had engaged a man to clear half an acre of land, build
the house, and dig and stone up a well, for which
work, well and faithfully done, he paid him one
hundred dollars in money, which was a rather
scarce and valuable article in those days and in
that part of the country. We took with us from
Norwich a very fine milch cow and calf, a wagon and span of horses, and a colt-also a good
dog (his name was Bose),~and a cat.
There were seven boys of us when we moved
into the "' tract," named Josiah, Silas, Oliver,
Holland, Cicero, Martin, and Solomon (the undersigned). Another, the eldest of all, Wright,
had gone to sea some time previously, having
shipped on the Constitution frigate, Commodore
Rodgers, as a drummer, and at the time I am
writing of filled the duties of drum-major-con



10


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


tinuing in the service until the end of the Tripolitan War in 1805, when with his "grog money,"
which he had not drawn for the whole term of
his service, he set up a store on a small scale in
Charlestown, Massachusetts, from which city he
removed over to Boston, where in a reasonable
time he became a thriving merchant. Meanwhile the five "big boys" at home worked like
beavers clearing land, and my father, by his constant labor at the bench and forge (I forgot to
say the forge was out-of-doors), kept the women
and girls supplied with ear-drops, beads, and finger-rings for forty miles 'round, receiving in return corn, wheat, and all other provisions, as well
as " store-goods" from the merchants in Homer,
Cincinnatus, Tioga Point, Cayuga, Scipio, and
other places. My noble hard-working brothers,
besides clearing our farm, went occasionally " out
to work," particularly in harvest time. I was
old enough to remember that my brother Josiah
chopped twelve acres for a Mr. Wildman, his
compensation being a yoke of oxen. "Chopping" consists of felling the trees, cutting them
into logs 12 feet long, and piling the brush!
In due time three other boys were added to
the family, Orrin and Samuel Sherwood (twins),
and Levi, afterward re-named Lemuel. Of course
for many years the five younger boys could assist
but little, if any, in the labors of the place, and
must have been a burden. But still my parents
labored on, never complaining. Father had received a wound in battle, and, I believe, carried
a British bullet in his body during his life; therefore he could only work at his trade, leaving the
heavy work out of doors to the boys. Mother,
besides the usual duties of housekeeping, carded
the wool, spun the yarn, and wove the cloth from
which she made our garments. We young ones
did what little we could to help her through her
laborious task, but that was little enough, so far
as I was concerned, for I was only eight years
old when I went forth from my home to earn my
own living. But I am anticipating.
Besides being great workers on the farm, my
brothers were "mighty hunters," and supplied
our table with plenty of bear-meat and venison,
as well as partridges and ducks. Father sometimes took a shot; but whatever shooting he did
was mostly at the " licks," where the deer came
to get salt which had been placed there for their
enticement, the hunter being concealed in a
clump of bushes hard-by. I suppose my father
was one of the best shots that ever held a rifle.
I have seen him several times lay on his back
and bring down a hawk that was soaring so high
that my young eyes could barely see it. The Indians who sometimes visited our place called him


Hawkeye. (This was very long before Cooper
wrote his " Pioneers.")
Our nearest neighbor one way lived three miles
off. His name was Moss. The other way, over
Mount Roderick, lived Colonel Wheeler, about
two miles off.
At what date I can not exactly say, but it was
after the great solar eclipse of 1806, a couple of
strangers called in one day and told my father
he had located on the wrong land!-that, in
point of fact, our land laid on the other side of
the road, and the place our people had cleared
and cultivated with so much toil belonged to
them! I shall never forget the shock this intelligence gave my parents and brothers. Having
become satisfied the claim of the strangers was a
just one, there was not a moment's hesitation in
resigning the place. A barn had been built by
this time-also a shop for father, separate from
the house. All our people asked was time to
clear a few rods of land on the other side of the
road, and build another log house. A well was
not needed, as there was a fine spring near the
spot where the new house was to be located.
The time was readily conceded, and, what's
more, a fair equivalent was allowed in money
and stock for all the improvements. In six
months we took possession of our new log cabin,
and our "boys" went to work clearing land again.
If my blessed father and mother, and those glorious "boys," are not now enjoying in Heaven
the reward for their long-enduring toils, there is
no meaning in the promise made to mankind
that " their works do follow them."
In the course of a few years a new frame house
was built-the first in that part of the township,
and the talk was that " Uncle Levi Smith was
getting along in the world." But before the
achievement of the new dwelling-that is, before
it was quite finished, the writer of these pages
had gone forth, as above intimated, to seek his
own livelihood, and this at the tender age of
eight years! I earned the first pair of shoes
that ever inclosed my feet. Before this time I
had worn only moccasins, made of raw deer-skins
in winter, and "gone barefooted" in summer. It
so happened that a family in "Twelfth Town"
wanted a nurse, and I was engaged for the place!
I remained a month, and received a pair of shoes
for my wages.
Several of my brothers had gone to Boston to
" tend store" for brother Wright, " taking turns"
in the farm work and clerking; and it was
thought I was quite old enough, God help me!
to earn my own livelihood; so I was " put out,"
as it was called, to Mr. Eli Wildman, who resided
three miles from our house in a straight line




COMMENCEMENT OF A LONG WALK.


11


through the woods, and six miles in the usual
course of travel by roads.  Before leaving my
early home, however, I must here say that if there
is any good in me at all, I owe it to my mother's
teaching. It is to her I am indebted for the
moral culture which has taken me through all
temptations and difficulties unscathed to a tolerably old age, and saved me from ever committing a dishonorable act. Oh! how much do we
owe our mothers!
One morning I was started off, alone, to find
the new home where I was to remain four years,
and learn the trade, mystery, and calling of a
Farmer. My little heart was heavy at leaving
my real home, and I dragged myself but slowly
up Mount Roderick on my way to the forks of
the road, where I was to turn sharp to the left
and soon be at Mr.Wildman's, as my father told
me. But as I saw the sun slowly but surely descending in the west, it suddenly occurred to my
mind that I couldn't possibly reach my destination before dark, and where, I inquired of myself,
could I stay all night? I sat down on a fallen
tree and reflected seriously-seriously for an
eight-year-old boy, what had better be done under the circumstances.  The thought at last
flashed upon me that the best way would be to
return home and stay there all night-and I did.
On my arrival home about sundown, my father
was, or pretended to be, somewhat offended at my
disobedience of orders. "What on earth brought
you back, Solomon?" inquired he. " Well, sir,"
I answered, "I felt pretty sure I couldn't travel
six miles in one day, so I thought I would make
two days of the journey, and came back to stay
all night at home; besides, if I was caught out
in the night, I was afraid of catamounts." My
explanation was received with good-humor, and
I spent that evening and the next morning in
great happiness with my mother. Next day I
made another start, and accomplished my journey in about ten hours, arriving just before dark
at Wildman's farm.
I am not going to give an extended account
of my sojourn with the Wildmans. Suffice it to
say that they were passably good people, and
treated me as well as I probably deserved. I
learned to work pretty fast, and soon became useful to Farmer Wildman. At the age of nine
years I regularly went to mill at Homer (14
miles), or Cincinnatus (6 miles). In winter I
went to school, 2- miles, besides cutting wood,
assisting in milking, feeding the cattle, and doing
up other " chores." My mother had taught me
the first rudiments, and at school I was invariably "at the head." This is boasting, but it is
the simple truth. I feel I have a right to men

tion it, for three quarters' schooling is all I ever
had; and when persons have written to me asking the particulars of my life, what books I have
written, what papers I have edited, and particularly what college I graduated at, I have invariably and truthfully answered the last question by
saying, "At a log school-house in Solon, Courtland County, New York." Whatever few acquirements I am master of, beyond what I learned
there, have been picked up in the great school of
the world.
I was allowed occasionally, say once a year, to
visit my family, going in the morning and returning the same night-generally on a Sunday, so
as not to neglect my work-and this I could
easily do, as one of my brothers took the trouble
of blazing the trees on the route by the short cut
through the woods.
At 12 years of age I could take a yoke of oxen
into the forest, and this in dead of winter, cut
down and cut up trees, and" snake" them to the
farm. I could and did drive the team to Cincinnatus, carrying on a pair of wheels and dragging huge logs to the mill to be sawed into
boards. I could reap and bind, plough, rake
hay, mow a little, chop wood, shear sheep, pull
flax, assist to build stone fences, sing psalms and
anthems, teach the children their letters-in fact,
make myself useful generally, and I did all these
things with right good will; there not being, as
I verily believe, a lazy drop of blood in my veins
at that time. I served faithfully for nearly four
years, when my father took me home for some
supposed ill usage on the part of Mr. Wildman.
I don't pretend to say whether I really was ill
used or not; but my father decided that I should
return to the family mansion; and when I did
return, what a change was there! The old gentleman was quite alone! My brothers, one by
one, had entered into business in Boston, and,
becoming prosperous, had invited our dear mother to visit them for the winter, and she was now
with them, enjoying a rest from her toils in the
wilderness. I went to school again, but soon
felt such an unconquerable yearning to see my
mother and brothers (for the young ones had accompanied her on her visit, and intelligence had
been received that mother had been taken ill),
that it was decided to let me go to Boston as fast
as my legs could carry me; so, with five dollars
in my pocket, some jewelry in a little box, a
"pass" from Uncle Elihu Holland, who was a
justice of the peace, and a pack containing a few
shirts and any quantity of "crullers," contributed by my dear Aunt Jerusha, wife of the J P.,
I commenced my walk of three hundred miles!
Not quite thirteen years of age, I found my un



12


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


cle's "pass" an indispensable document to have
along. On the very second day of my journey I
was taken up as a runaway by a man driving a
sleigh and horses, and carried back at least three
miles. This man could not and would not believe my story that I was going to Boston to see
my mother. After a good cry, I bethought me
of the pass, not knowing exactly what virtue it
might possess, and asked him to read that, and
" see if I was a runaway." Its effect was magical. The horses were stopped and turned round,
the man was overflowing with apologies, and I
was carried to the place of my capture, and two
miles beyond, where the good man dismissed me
with his blessing and a quarter of a dollar, as he
said Squire Holland's pass requested "all who
see these presents to aid and assist the bearer
on his way." I took the quarter without scruple
and with great thankfulness, though it is quite
certain the good justice who wrote the pass never
had contemplated pecuniary assistance would be
afforded me. Just as we were parting there
happened to come along a sleigh going my way,
and, on learning of my being carried back, and
carefully reading my pass, the owner said, "Jump
in, little boy-I'll take you as far as Unadilla;"
and he did, in pretty quick time, too, insisting on
my staying all night at his house (a tavern) free
of charge. At parting next morning I insisted
on making his daughter a present of a pair of
ear-rings as an acknowledgment of the kindness
bestowed upon me; but the landlord wouldn't
listen to it, though he was willing to gratify his
daughter with the ear-rings, and insisted on paying me the full price for them, which I think was
eighteen pence, they being of a very ordinary
kind. Thus I pushed on toward Boston, getting
free rides, and sometimes free lodgings and diet,
though always ready to pay my bill like other
folk. (It was the " pass" that did it.)
I shall never forget the sensations of wonder
and surprise I experienced on entering Albany,
the first large city I had ever seen. It was nothing like what it is now, but it was a grand sight
to me. The trial of General Hull for treason
was concluded on the day I was there. I remember I, child as I was, thought he deserved
hanging for his conduct at Detroit, which post
he surrendered without striking a blow. In consideration of his services in the Revolutionary
War, his life was spared, and he was only cashiered for cowardice.
Arriving at Pelham (Massachusetts), I learned
from an uncle that my beloved mother had gone
to her long home, and I was never more to see
her in this world. My feelings on receiving this
sad intelligence can not be written. Her beau

tiful form could never more be encircled by these
arms, but her TEACHINGS I could and would always retain and act upon. I have tried to do
so; and I never repeat the prayers SHE taught
me without adding a heartfelt wish that I may
be found worthy of joining her in those realms
of bliss which I know she inhabits. * * * I
got to Boston. at last, and entered into a new
world.
I was taken into the store of my brother Silas,
in Ann Street, and soon learned to be of use
there. My brother Wright had a store in Milk
Street, and Josiah and Oliver kept another at the
corner of Kilby Street and Liberty Square. We
kept open until 9 o'clock at night, and it was my
duty to close the store at that hour. I remember one night closing it much earlier, in order to
go and assist the Republican boys in tearing
down the State-house, because the Federalists
had illuminated it in honor of the downfall of
Bonaparte, and his banishment to Elba. We
were on the side of Bonaparte, you see-I mean
we Boston boys, North-enders and South-enders,
and we had made up our minds to tear down the
State-house as aforesaid. We went to the Common, but didn't tear down any thing at all; but
we chased all the niggers off the Common, as
was usually done on occasions of gatherings, except on what was termed "nigger 'lection," which
I don't know the meaning of to this day. I only
know that on that day the colored people were
permitted to remain unmolested on Boston Common.
One Sunday in that summer (1814) news came
that the Constitution frigate (Old Ironsides) was
chased by two frigates and a seventy-four into
Marblehead. This being the vessel in which my
brother had served five years (and saved his
grog), and, moreover, being a general favorite
with the whole people, there was a great stir
when the news was spread of her danger. Without saying a word to any one but my brother
Sam, who happened to be with me in our cellar
in Wharf Street, I placed a large club in the
hands of that patriotic youth, seized an old musket which was rusting in a closet under the stairs
in the hall, which musket was destitute of any
lock or ramrod, and saying " Follow me!" rushed
forth into the streets, closely followed by brother
Sam, and we pushed for Marblehead, to afford
what little aid we could to the noble old Constitution. We ran at great speed through Broad
Street, across State Street, down Flagg Alley,
passing Faneuil Hall (with all its great memories), through Ann and Prince Streets, to Charlestown Bridge, which we half crossed, when we met
some acquaintances, who, after learning our pat



FUNERAL OF KING HENRY VI.


13


riotic intentions, informed us that the Constitution was safe, and our assistance was not needed.
We sneaked back to Wharf Street, our ardor
having abated, and deposited our arms in the
back cellar. On the following Sunday the buildings on Long and India wharves were crowded
with people to see the gallant old Ironsides sail
majestically into the harbor, and to send up
cheers of joy for her safety, which cheers were
answered by the glorious crew, who, under Hull
and Bainbridge, had a short time previously captured the " Guerriere" and sunk the "Java."
In the fall of 1814 we all removed to Albany,
where I served as clerk in my brothers' stores
(changing about as wanted) for three years, all
the time learning something of business and informing my mind. My leisure time was mostly
spent in reading Shakspeare's Plays, with which
I became familiar long before I ever saw a play
acted.


piles of wood, and a high fence-always causing
a great sensation among the hens and other livestock-thus gain the street. After luxuriating
on the scenic feast, I was obliged to return the
same way, generally waking up the whole family
of fowls, but luckily never disturbing our family.
From witnessing the performances, I soon felt


CHAPTER II.
THE first theatre I ever entered was situated
in Green Street, Albany, and was under the
management of John Bernard, an actor of considerable celebrity both in England and this
country. I purchased a check at half price, and
witnessed the performance of the HIGHLAND
REEL-not as we see it represented now, "cut"
all to pieces, but the whole comic opera, as written by O'Keefe. Bernard played Shelty, the
piper; Mr. Drake, Sergeant.ack; Sam. Drake,
Captain Dash; Henry Placide (then quite a
boy), Charley; Mr. Garner, Sandie; and Julia
Drake and Mrs. Young the female characters.
The impression made upon my youthful mind
was strong and lasting, and I remember the airs
of that comic opera to this day. My head was
full of acting from that time forward; my duties
at the store became irksome to me; in brief, I
became, as thousands had become before me, and
thousands will become after me-stage mad!
My brothers refusing me permission to visit
the theatre, my only chance was to visit it by
stealth-for see the play I would. I contrived
to make an acquaintance with the young Drakes,
by whose influence I obtained free admission
behind the scenes; but then the difficulty was,
how to leave home every play-night without the
knowledge of the family. My room was in the
second story, and opened on a shed, which was
occupied as a wood-house and hen-coop. I was
in the habit of letting myself down from my window, by means of sheets and blankets, to the
shed, from which I could easily jump to the


an ardent desire to participate in them. I accordingly applied for and obtained leave to enroll myself in that useful but much-despised class
of individuals, indispensable in all theatres, called
"supers," or, more politely speaking, "auxiliaries. "
One night, having bedaubed my countenance
with a plentiful supply of burnt cork and oil, to
make myself a fit associate of the renowned
Three-Jingered Jack, it being late when the performance concluded, I forgot to wash my face
previous to returning home.  I went to bed
black as I was, and in the morning, as usual on
such occasions, overslept myself. My seat being
vacant at the breakfast-table, a servant was desired to awaken me, when judge of her astonishment on seeing my black face peeping from under the bedclothes as I lay snoring! The poor
girl ran down stairs three steps at a time, and
declared there was a nigger in Sol's bed! This
announcement brought the whole family to my
room; an explanation was inevitable; and I
visited the playhouse no more that winter.
At the close of the season Mr. Drake and his
family wended their way westward. Miss Denny
(afterward well known in the West and South as
Mrs. Drake) made her first appearance on any
stage in the village of Cherry Valley, personating the character of Amelia Wildenheim. Mr.
Drake, with a small but talented company, proceeded to Kentucky, where he established theatres.
Funeral of King Henry VI.
The next season (1815-16) the members of
the company were all strangers to me, consequently my free admission did not continue, and
as my brothers did not allow me funds for the
purpose, I had considerable difficulty in procuring admission. For hours together I have concealed myself behind old pieces of scenery in the
carpenters' gallery, waiting for an opportunity to
slip into the front of the house, satisfied with
what I could hear of the dialogue going on below. At length, of even this poor privilege I
was deprived; for the carpenters having discovered my retreat, I was ordered, with awful threatenings, to leave the premises, and never to make
my appearance in that part of the house again.


ground, and after clambering over old barrels, I was literally turned out.  But would I stay




14


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


turned out?   Not by any manner of means. claring that a hollow voice had issued from the
RICHARD THE THIRD was advertised for per- coffin bidding them to "put it down and be d-d
formance —Richard by Mr. Somebody, I forget to them!" and the carpenters affirming, on the
who now, but it was some great actor. I could contrary, that when they opened the coffin they
not resist the attraction: go I must, and go I did. had found it empty.
About six o'clock P.M. I entered the back    The four supernumerary gentlemen never visdoor, which happened to be unguarded at the ited the playhouse again, but immediately joined
time, and went up to my.old quarters in the the Church. One of them, I believe, has become
carpenters' gallery. I felt my way in the dark a notorious preacher, and never spares the theauntil I found something which appeared to be a tre or theatrical people in his sermons, telling his
large box, into which I popped without the least hearers that he had a most mysterious warning
hesitation, and closed the lid. For more than when he was a young man!
an hour I lay concealed, safe, as I thought, from
discovery. At length the bustle of the carptn-  For some time after the adventure just detailters and tuning of instruments in the orchestra ed, I dared not venture within gunshot of the
announced that the operations of the evening theatre; I therefore gratified my passion for the
were about to commence. The curtain rose, drama by collecting together a number of boys
and I ventured to peep down upon the stage. I in a neighboring cellar, where I recited such
was delighted; I could see all that was going speeches as I could remember, arranging maton, myself unseen. The second act was about ters with the boys so that I was sure to receive a
to begin, and I was luxuriating on the pleasure suitable number of " rounds" at the end of each
I should derive from the " courting scene" of speech. On these occasions I had several lads
Richard and Lady Anne, when I heard four or who acted as supernumeraries, and were very
five men making their way directly to my hid- serviceable in the characters of Peruvian soldiers
ing-place. I had barely time to enter my box and Venetian senators. One of them, who afterand close the lid, when I found, to my utter dis- ward arrived at some eminence as an actor, and
may, that the box was the object of their search; was at one time manager of the Albany Theatre,
in short, as you will already have anticipated, I but is since dead, excelled all the rest in personwas shut up in King Henry's coffin! Here was ating the unfortunate sixth Henry, while I, as
a situation for a stage-struck hero! The coffin Richard, was murdering him in the Tower. Iie
was taken up, the men remarking "it was devil- omitted the speaking, it is true, but when I growlish heavy," and I felt myself conveyed down ed out the awful sentence, "Down, down to h-11,
stairs and placed upon the bier.  Since I had and say I sent thee there!" and stuck him with
been carried so far, I made up my mind to carry a lath, Duffy had a way of falling from the woodthe joke a little farther. So I lay as quiet as the pile in a most masterly and dignified manner, to
" injured king" would have lain had he been in the great amusement of the boys, and at the immy place, and was carried by four strong super- minent risk of breaking his royal neck.
numeraries on the stage, followed by the weep-  We carried on our work, or rather play, for
ing Lady Anne and all the court. Little did some weeks, until we were ordered out by the


the lady imagine she was weeping over a living
corpse! For my part I perspired most profusely,
and longed for an opportunity to escape. When
I was carried off "to Whitefriars" to be interred
-that is to say, in stage parlance, when the procession moved off "L. H. U. E."-the supers
were desired to replace the coffin in the carpenters' gallery. Being awkward (did you ever see
supernumeraries who were not?), and finding
their load rather heavy, they turned and tumbled
it about in such a way that I could not bear it
any longer, and was obliged to call out. The
men dropped their precious burden and ran away
in affright, which gave me an opportunity to
make my escape from the coffin and my exit
through the back door. I afterward heard that
the affair had made a great noise in the theatre
at the time of its occurrence-the four men de

owner of the cellar, who found we were likely to
make too warm a business of it, having introduced a large quantity of India crackers among
the wood for the purpose of blowing up Grindoff's mill. So "my brave associates, partners
of my toil, my feelings, and my fame," and myself, were obliged to capitulate, and yield up our
underground theatre.
During the season I saw Bernard in some of
his best characters- Timothy Sharp, Nipperkin,
Kit Casey, Bras de Fer, Sadi, Sheva, Benjamin
(MAGPIE AND MAID), and a great many others.
I saw Henry Placide play a monkey, and Andrew
J. Allen Abcelino, the Great Bandit.
For the season of 1816-17 the theatre was
leased to a Mr. Mortimer, who, being inexperienced in theatrical management, in a few weeks
lost the little capital he had invested in the busi



A THEATRE CONVERTED INTO A CHURCH.


15


FUNERAL OF HENRY VI. (See page 14.)


ness. I remember nothing of him except that
he had a pretty wife. Mr. H. A. Williams was
stage-manager and principal actor. A queer little fellow, named Joey Williams, played the eccentric comedy, and a Mr. Thornton the comic
old men. Mrs. H. A. Williams (afterward Mrs.
Maywood) was new on the stage, and played all
the Dollies, Pollies, and Peggies. Mr. Price
(son-in-law of Mr. Bernard) acted during this
season, as did Mr. Bernard, Mr. H. Placide, and
Mr. Hop Robinson.
Mrs. Burke, then a young and very pretty actress and singer, came to play a few nights, and
appeared in Rosina, Agnes, and Lothair (ADRIAN
AND ORILLA). A Mr. Phillips was the representative of Octavian and Adrian. I saw young
Bernard make his first appearance in the character of Dick the Apprentice.
Near the close of the season, H. A. Williams
and his wife left the Albany Theatre for the
Park. Mr. Mestayer and his family arrived,
and the season was eked out by the performance
of harlequinades and pantomimes, intermixed
with slack-wire arrangements. These were the


last days of the old Albany Theatre previous to
its being converted into a church, in which capacity it served for over thirty years; but I am
happy to learn that it has recently resumed its
theatrical character, and is now open as a temple
of the Drama. The season ended in something
like a row, and part of the company, with Mortimer at their head, went to Troy, with the vain
hope of " making a raise," as they termed it.
After the departure of the theatrical people
from Albany, I became more and more dissatisfied with my situation of clerk in my brother's
store, and more and more desirous of becoming
an actor. Having completed the study of Young
Norval, so far as the words were concerned, I
made up my mind and a small bundle one afternoon, and, instead of posting up my books, I
posted off to Troy to "join the show-folk," not
doubting for an instant that I would be received
with open arms by manager and actors. Poor,
mistaken individual that I was! The members
of the company, who in Albany were "hailfellow well met" with me, and were loud in their
praises of my precocious talent for the stage, in




16


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


Troy scarcely recognized me! I had no money,
not deeming it at all necessary to provide such
an article, as I supposed (of course) that I should
immediately be placed upon the salary list. Alas!
I soon found that salaries were out of the question, and that the actors I had so envied, supposing them to be rolling in riches, had some
difficulty to obtain food enough to keep soul and
body together! Over a pot of porter I prevailed
upon Mr. Thornton to speak to the manager in
my behalf. An interview was granted; the matter talked over; another pot of porter drank;
and the result of all was, that Young Norval
dwindled down to the 1'Watiter in RAISING THE
WIND, and my debut was agreed on. The eventful night came, but, for some cause or otherprobably Jeremy Diddler had made too free at
the bar-the piece was postponed! Next morning, to my utter horror and amazement, I found
that the manager had taken down his scenery
and decorations-the theatre had vanished, and
"he himself wandered away, no one knew
whither!" The actors were in a state of consternation, being left entirely destitute of means
to follow their leader, even if they had known
his course. They made off as fast as possible,
each determining in his own mind to " stand no
farther question," and all fearing that their retreat might be cut off by those faithful followers
of genius, the constables.
Being left in sole possession of the field, I began to reflect a little on my peculiar situation.
My landlord hinted that I was in his debt for
two weeks' boarding and lodging, and sundry
pots of porter and Albany ale; that he had lost
a good deal by the actor folk, and, having seen
me frequently in their society-in short, his rules
required payments weekly! I heartily wished
myself back to No. 26 State Street, corner of
Dock; but wishing did no good. My tavern bill
must be paid. After much difficulty, I raised
the amount by selling two of my best coats and
a vest, paid my landlord, and trudged off toward
Saratoga, where I arrived next morning. I had
no particular object in view. I dared not go
back to my brothers in Albany; " I must eat;"
but how to obtain a dinner was a question difficult to be answered. While these thoughts were
ranging about in my head, and hunger thumping
away in my stomach, I happened to see some
men carrying stone in the street. I asked one
of them if I could be engaged in the business,
and at what wages. A bargain was struck-fifty
cents a day (and found!) was the price, and at it
I went, determined at least to earn my dinner.
I had been at work in my new line of business
(the "heavy business") but about an hour when


I saw a Mr. Garrow, who was a regular customer
at our store in Albany, walking directly toward
me. From a false pride I dreaded his discovering me in my honest employment, so, dropping a
load of stone I was carrying, I seized my coat;
and ran off, my fellow-laborers hallooing after
me for an explanation of my unaccountable conduct.
I had no dinner that day. During the afternoon I met Mr. Garrow, who recognized me at
once, and asked me what brought me to Saratoga. I said I was out on a collecting tour. He
replied that he was glad to meet me, as he had a
payment due at our store the next day, and meeting me would save him the trouble of remitting.
Hereupon he took out his pocket-book, and be —
gan counting out tens, twenties, and fifties, to
the amount of three hundred dollars. I hesi —
tated, but it was for an instant only, and refused
to take the money. He insisted; but my mind
was made up. By way of excuse for declining
to receive the debt, I told him I was going to the
western part of the state, and should not return
for some time. On relating this circumstance to
my brothers, some months afterward they in —
formed me that Garrow failed the very next day.
and they lost the whole amount!
I made my way on foot to Schenectady, where
I remained three days literally without bread.
Being heartily tired of my adventure, I wrote
home for leave to return, like the prodigal son.
The next day I received an answer from one of
my brothers utterly refusing to receive me. ][
shall never forget my feelings when I received
that letter. I felt alone in the world. To that
letter I attribute all my wanderings in after life..
Had I been permitted to return when I saw the
folly of my conduct in leaving home, I should
have been cured-I felt I should-of my infatuation for the stage, and should have become a
steady merchant, lawyer, preacher, or something
else equally as estimable in the eyes of the world.,
I may as well mention here that my brothers
were not quite so hard-hearted as they may ap.pear to have been. The letter was intended to
have the effect of punishing me for running away,
and the next day they sent for me; but it was
too late; I had left the town in less than five
minutes after receiving my sentence of banishment.
CHAPTER III.
I BENT my course westward, and in about a
week arrived at Solon (the place where I was
" raised"), the clothes I had on my back constituting my whole stock of valuables, the bundle I




A HOG STORY.


17


took away from Albany having entirely vanished
in exchange for eatables and lodging on the road.
My father was away from home, and I did not
see him. My Uncle Holland suffered me to remain at his house for a week or two, my labor
on the farm being considered equivalent to my
daily bread. Here one of my brothers visited
me, and explained the Schenectady affair. The
whole family were about removing to the GREAT
WEST, and he appointed a place to meet me in
about a month's time, when he expected to be on
his Western journey.;5     A Hog Story.
There are extant any number of dog, horse,
cat, rat, and fish stories. I am going to write
a HOG STORY. It may not interest the reader;
but, I assure you, the circumstance on which it is
founded interested me for a whole month, and
even now, whenever the recollection of it crosses
my memory, feelings of remorse punish me considerably.
On the Cayuga Lake, east side, stands a beautiful village which is happy in the name -of Aurora. One mile north of that lovely village lived,
in 1817, a substantial farmer named Stott. With
this Stott, a most worthy man, the writer of this
engaged to work in the harvest-field one month
for six bushels of wheat; each bushel of wheat
was estimated to be worth one dollar, sothat I
had six dollars in prospect at the end of the
month; and with these six dollars, added to five
I had in my pocket, I intended to journey to the
Great West, then a great distance off.
I went to work like a good fellow, mowing and
raking hay, binding up wheat, and making myself useful in various ways-happy all the time,
and joyous as the fish that sported in the smooth
and clear lake in which we harvesters bathed every evening after sunset-delighted with the prospect of a rich reward for my labor, and dreaming
of the "Far West," the goal of my hopes and
wishes (then situated about Pittsburg, now away
off to and over the Rocky Mountains), and glorying in the thought that I, a boy of sixteen, would
be the pioneer of the great Smith family in the
Western regions.
All went on smoothly. One day, as I was
pitching, bundle by bundle, a load of wheat into
the mow, I saw enter the barn, rooting and
grunting along, a very large, fat, lazy, long-eared
sow. I can't to this day account for the devilish
feeling which induced me, without a thought, to
throw the pitchfork into this unoffending old
creature; but I DID IT-instantly did it! The
handle was scarcely out of my hand before I reB


pented of the deed; and in less than three minutes I was wondering what could have prompted
me to such an act. Ah! many, very many
hours, in the stillness of night, did I lie upon a
sleepless couch and ruminate upon my crime!
Bitter tears of repentance trickled down my
youthful cheeks, sinner that I was! What had
the poor beast done to deserve such a fate?
The poor surprised sow gave a horrible squeal
(I hear it now!) and ran with all her might out
of the barn and out of the yard, the pitchfork
still sticking in her quivering pork. The instrument of torture was afterward found about three
hundred yards from the place where the fatal
deed was committed; but the old sow-the unoffending, innocent old sow-had disappeared in
the thick undergrowth of a neighboring wood,
and had doubtless ended her days in solitude,
with no pitying relative near to close her eyes, or
render the last sad offices to the dying innocent.
As for me, the perpetrator of the horrid crime,
what a month did I pass! My mind was tortured with horrible images of ghastly hogs bristling up before me. The poor old murdered sow
actually appeared before my half-waking and
half-closed eyes, dressed in a shroud, walking on
her hinder legs, shaking her right paw into my
face, and pointing her left, with a " most piteous
action," to two bleeding pitchfork wounds in her
ribs! In vain I tried to shake off these fantasies; the more I shook, the more they wouldn't
go. I was miserable-I was a murderer-I had
committed sowicide!
As a compensation to the farmer, I had made
over-to him the proceeds of my six bushels of
wheat, but that did not ease my mind in the
least. I had done a deed which a thousand
bushels of wheat could not atone for. The phantom sow, with the winding-sheet trailing after
her, as she stalked around my bed in the garret,
drove sleep away from my pillow, and deprived
me of all chance of rest. I grew weary of life.
I didn't care any more about traveling West.
The idea frequently crossed my mind of sacrificing myself to the manes of the poor feminine
hog.
My month was up.
Two Quakers came along and inquired for
seed-wheat. I offered them my six bushels, and
they purchased it, at a dollar and a quarter a
bushel.  I listlessly received the money, and
passed it over to the honest farmer in payment
for the murdered sow, and was just bidding farewell to my kind employer and his family, when a
little urchin came running in, screaming with all
his might" Oh, daddy! daddy! just come out here and




18


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


see something! If here isn't our dead sow comiug up the lane!"
Horror-stricken, I huddled on my pack with
the utmost speed, and prepared to depart, dreading to meet the spectre which I doubted not was
coming to upbraid me for my brutal butchery!
I started off at full speed toward the gate, when
-can I express my joy at the sight which met
my view?-there was the veritable sow that I
had for a month mourned as dead, alive and
rooting!-somewhat thinner than when I pitchforked her, but apparently enjoying remarkably
good health; and by her side marched sixteen
clean, elegant little offspring, joyously grunting
as they capered along up the lane. Oh what delight I experienced at this sight! A millstone
had been taken from my neck-I was not a murderer-I was free from crime! I could have
hugged that veritable old hog-I could!-and I
believe I did kiss half a dozen of the pigs. I was
completely happy.
Farmer Stott insisted that, inasmuch as I had
paid for the supposed defunct sow, she belonged
to me, and that I was also proprietor of her progeny-the whole being worth, at the lowest rate
of hog's flesh, at least twelve dollars, which sum
he offered to pay me. I utterly refused to receive
any thing more than the price I had paid for the
elder animal. Happy in the contemplation of the
swinish family group, composed of the mother lying on her side, and furnishing an early breakfast to her sixteen young uns, I passed out at the
gate, and wended my way westward.
By some accident my brother was prevented
meeting me as appointed; and supposing he had
gone on, and that his letters had miscarried, on
I pushed to Olean Point, where I purchased a
skiff, which I launched upon the waters of the Alleghany River, and floated and rowed until I found
myself in Pittsburg, a distance of five hundred
miles from the place of embarkation. Here my
purse gave out; for, after paying my tavern bill
and purchasing a pit ticket for the theatre, not
one cent remained. Behold me, then, one thousand miles from home (if I can with propriety
say I had any home at all), among strangers and
in a strange land.
I went to the theatre. Mr. Entwistle was the
manager, and Mr. Hutton and Mrs. Entwistle
were his principal performers. Mr. and Mrs.
Legg were members of the company. The
LADY OF THE LAKE was the play, and the farce
TURN OUT. The scenery was good, and the
pieces were well played. Next morning I went
to the stage-door for the purpose of applying for
employment, but could not obtain an audience




of the manager. Being asked my business by
one of the performers, I had not the courage to
make my wishes known, and I was turned out!
Hearing no tidings of my brother, I took passage on a flat-boat to work my way to Marietta.
Not much liking the slow floating of the ark, I
changed into a skiff owned by an elderly gentleman, who wanted a working passenger. He had
a young wife and a beautiful child. I soon found
I should not be very comfortable with them; for,
although his young wife's conduct was in all respects considerate and proper, the old gentleman
had a tincture of jealousy in his disposition,
which would break out now and then, particularly when people mistook me for the young
woman's husband, which they frequently did. I
remember what a stew the old fellow was in one
night, when the landlord of an inn lighted us up
stairs, and, pointing to two doors, said to me,
" You and your wife will occupy that room, and
yourfather can sleep here."
The old fellow flew into a violent rage, and
told the landlord he was entirely mistaken; that
he himself was the husband of the lady, and I
was only a passenger!
At Marietta I commenced a fruitless search
for my brother. I traversed the whole valley of
the Muskingum, actually subsisting on apples
and peaches, and sleeping in barns! One day I
happened in at Mr. Hall's bakehouse. Mr. Hall,
his nther, wife, sister, and brothers, had lately
arrived from Connecticut. They were all Methodists; and a more worthy family I have never
known. After a very short acquaintance, suspecting my destitute situation, they inquired into
my circumstances. I told my story, and was immediately invited to make their house my home
until I could communicate with my brothers at
Albany. I accepted their invitation with joy and
gratitude, and endeavored, by my labor and attention to their business, to repay their kindness.
Years have passed-not a few, but many-and
my gratitude to that family remains as warm and
sincere as it was at the time they sheltered the
poor wanderer!
I soon learned, by a letter I received, that
the brother whom I had supposed ahead of me
in my journey, had been compelled, by the sickness of his family, to turn back, and his letters
to me, informing me of the fact, had miscarried.
In about two months, however, another brother and his family passed Marietta on their way
to Cincinnati. I was taken on board their ark,
and we all proceeded happily along down the
beautiful river. My brother established himself
at Cincinnati, where he was joined eventually by
the whole brotherhood.




THE SIXTY-FOOTERS.


19)


OLD HUSBAND AND YOUNG WIFE. (See page 18.)


The reader, if he is much acquainted in and  The FORTY THIEVES and the MILLER ANDI


about Cincinnati, will perceive that the writer
forms one tenth of the family so well known in
the Western country as the "Sixty-feet Smiths."
Alas! there are now (1868) but twelve feet of
us remaining!
For myself, my wandering propensities soon
returning, I proceeded as far as Louisville, where
I engaged myself to H. Deming as an apprentice to the printing business. I was carrier of
the Herald, and remember to this day the residences of the old citizens-the Galts, the Bullits,
the Prathers, and the Oldhams, whom I served
twice a week with the news fifty years ago.
The theatre was open. I renewed my acquaintance with the family of the Drakes, and,
as at Albany, had free admission behind the
scenes. The company consisted of Messrs. S.
Drake, Savage, Blissett, Alexander Drake, S.
Drake, Jr., J. 0. Lewis, James Drake, and Cornell; Mrs. Lewis, Miss Julia Drake, and Mrs.
Mongen. I saw Blissett in nearly all of his best
characters, and a most admirable actor he was.


HIS MEN were performed frequently. In the
last scene of the latter piece the explosion was
omitted. Lothair used to say, " Confusion! the
train has failed! Well, manly courage nerve
my arm, and crush the tyrant!" A desperate
combat ensued, which ended with the death of
the Miller, of course.
Manager Drake had a singular propensity for
altering titles, or, rather, adding second titles to
plays. To the HONEY MOON he would add, " or
the Painter and his Three Daughters." He always announced the HUNTER OF THE ALPS with
this addition: "Or the Runaway Horse that flung
its Rider in the Forest of Savoy." I will add one
more specimen of his second titles, and proceed:
" RICHARD THE THIRD, or the Death of Young
Edward at Tewksbury, and of King Henry the
Sixth in London; the Courtship of the subtle
Duke Richard, and Marriage with Lady Anne;
Unnatural Murder of the Children of Edward
Plantagenet in the Tower; the Coronation of the
Usurper; Rise of a formidable Rebellion in




20


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


Wales; Overthrow of Buckingham, and his Decapitation; Death of the Tyrant at the Battle
qf Bosworth Field, and Accession of Henry the
Seventh to the Throne of England!"
CHAPTER IV.
BECOMING dissatisfied with my situation in
the printing-office, after the actors left the city,
and imagining Mr. Deming was a little unreasonable to expect me to rise at five o'clock in the
morning, after working until two hours past midpight, "I gave him something, and we parted."
I stored my pockets with provisions, and "broke
for high timber;" in other words, I trudged off
to the westward. While my provisions lasted, I
was tolerably comfortable and happy; my lodging was "cheap and airy" —generally on the
ground floor, and for three or four days I footed
it merrily along through the wilds and prairies
of Indiana; but when my provisions gave out,
my spirits gave out also. Apples and peaches
there were none; my only resources were to beg,
starve, or impose on the people. I chose the
latter alternative, and trumped up a story-I forget what it was now-which induced the good
folk of the Hoosier State to give me corn-bread,
bacon, and thick milk enough to keep soul and
body together, on a credit. After many days of
hardship, fatigue, and mortification, I arrived at
Vincennes, on the Wabash River. When I left
Louisville I had some faint hopes of finding a
company of theatricals at this place, but there
being none, I began to look about for something
to do for a livelihood. I soon found a farmer a
few miles from town who wanted a hand, and
immediately engaged myself to him for twentyfive cents per diem to hoe corn! For about a
week I toiled under an almost tropical sun, following the example of my fellow-laborers, and
stripping myself, all but my pantaloons, by which
means my back, arms, neck, and hands became
blistered. In a few days I literally shed my skin.
I could not stand this: to be skinned alive was
rather too much. I left the farm, and engaged
myself to Elihu Stout, Esq., proprietor of the
Western Sun newspaper as an apprentice. Mr.
Stout was a very worthy old man, a little too
fond of card-playing, but one of the best-tempered men I have ever known. His wife-but the
less we say of her the better; she was kind in
sickness, and that, with me, covers a multitude


ages to a household, she made use of her husband's apprentices in place of them. She had
one negro-his name was Thompson-who had
been brought from Kentucky under indentures.
He was to be free at the age of twenty-one, and
he was now at least thirty-five! Mrs. Stout
made him believe he was but fourteen, and that
he had yet seven years to serve. Thompson
used to ask us boys in the office if we didn't
think he was fifteen years of age. Of course
we could not encourage him in such abolitional
ideas. So he served on in blessed ignorance,
and whether he has yet arrived at the desired
age of twenty-one I am not informed. I don't
know how it was, but Mrs. Stout acquired a
complete ascendency over us all. With all her
faults, as I said before, she was kind in sickness.
If one of us complained ever so little, she would
send for us, place us in a bed (we had not the
luxury of a bed when in health), and nurse us
with the greatest care until 'we completely recovered; then dismiss us to our type-setting with a
hearty-blessing; and then her tyranny would
be resumed, and continued sans intermission until we were fortunately taken ill again.
My fellow-apprentices were James A. J. Bradford, now of the army, John Thompson, since
dead, and William H. Johnson, afterward proprietor of a paper in Louisville. The latter soon
left the office, his apprenticeship having expired;
the other two remained during my apprenticeship. In a short time I became so expert in the
" art and mystery of printing," that by common
consent I was declared foreman of the " Sun"
office. I took a side in politics-and, of course,
went with the "Sun."  Party spirit ran very
high in the little village of Vincennes. My mistress became so exasperated at the editor of the
opposition paper (a Dr. Macnamara) that she one
night buckled a belt around her waist, stuck in it
two large horse-pistols, concealed a cowhide in
her sleeve, and, thus equipped, commanded me
to arm myself and follow her, to see fair play
while she inflicted summary chastisement on the
doctor! It was with much difficulty I could persuade her to " let the doctor off," and not until
I had promised to blaze away at him in the next
" Sun. "
A Thespian Society was formed. Mr. Stout
was appointed one of the managers, and Bradford and I were allowed to become members.
The comedy of JOHN BULL was cast, and the
character of Lady Caroline Braymore' assigned




of faults. This lady had been " raised" in Ken- to my fellow-apprentice, Bradford, while I was
tucky, and having been in the habit of command- called on to personate a servant attending on Sir
ing slaves, and the laws of Indiana not permit- Simon Rochdale. At the first rehearsal, finding
ting her to own any of those convenient append- I knew something of plays, the managers changed




BURNING OF A PRINTING-OFFICE.


21


the cast, so as to allow me to play Dan. Another
rehearsal made so favorable an impression that
the afterpiece of'Tls ALL A FARCE was selected,
and the character of Numpo assigned to me.
The performance of these two characters did my
business for me-I was acknowledged as the low
comedian of the society. I appeared successively and (as the people thought-so did I too,
then) successfully in the characters of Farmer
Aslfield, Old Doiley, Robin Roughhead, 'Zekiel
1Homespun, Stephen Harrowby, and several others. I can remember the names of only a few
of the members of the association-Dr. Shuler,
Mr. Stout, Dr. Decker, and my fellow-apprentice,
Bradford, were prominent actors. A Mr. Dillworth played the old women and Dr. Ollapod.
The winter passed off pleasantly; indeed, notwithstanding the treatment I received from my
mistress, the winter was all spring with Bradford
and myself.
I had been an apprentice in the " Sun" office
about a year, when one night, about 12 o'clock,
we were alarmed by the cry of fire! After carefully locking up the form, which we had just finished correcting, we very leisurely wept into the
street to ascertain where the fire was, when we
soon had light enough on the subject-it was our
printing-office which was in flames! The people
were running toward us frcm every directionall was confusion. The family, who occupied
the part of the building directly under where the
fire was raging, were yet asleep. Our first care
was for them-the next to preserve the printing
materials. For my own part, after I had carried
out, by main strength, several of the family, including Mrs. Stout, who was a load for any one,
I went to work assisting the people to get out
the press and types. I found the crowd industriously engaged in emptying the types on the
floor, and rushing out with the cases! In the
confusion and noise, I lost all recollection, but
continued, as I was afterward told, to run in and
out of the burning building, long after the crowd
of people had entirely desisted, expecting the
roof to fall in every moment. I was frequently
warned against my foolhardiness, as they very
justly termed it; but I heeded not-heard not
-the warning. I continued to bundle out the
cases, paper, imposing stones, and presses at a
d-1 of a rate. The first recollection I have is
of hearing a tremendous shout or scream, as of a
thousand voices. I gave a spring, and immediately found I had escaped the most awful of
deaths. The roof fell in while I was passing
from the printing-room, through a small entry,
into the street. At first it was thought I was
buried in the flames; but the momentary check


the falling timbers met with when they reached
the floor of the second story of the building gave
me time to save myself.
In a few days our "pi was distributed," our
press put in order, and the "Western Sun" rose
in full splendor and in a new dress. But its rays
gave no warmth to me. I was unhappy; for our
Thespian society had been dissolved! I longed
for an opportunity to tread the boards again;
and, hearing that there was a company at Nashville (only three hundred miles off), I determined
to set off for that place forthwith, without troubling my worthy master or mistress about the
matter. Bradford had relations in Nashville,
and as he also was tired of his situation, he'
agreed to accompany me. So off we started, in
the middle of a night, and actually ran nearly
fifteen miles, fearing I know not what-unless it
was that Mrs. Stout should follow and take us
up, runaways as we were. We heroically resolved not to be taken alive, if fifty men should
attempt to apprehend us; but I verily believe, if
the old woman had appeared, we should have
surrendered at discretion.
Arrived at Nashville, I was doomed to be disappointed in my theatrical hopes. The company had just left the city for St. Louis, five
hundred miles distant! As I had not five hundred cents to take me to them, I gave up all idea
of becoming an actor for the time being, and
consoled myself by spending the greater part of
my Sundays in the old warehouse, which had
been occupied as a theatre. There were the
seats, the stage, the trap-doors, the banners!
How I gloried in those banners! The last play
performed had been BUNKER HILL, and the banners of both parties had been left upon the field
of battle.
I engaged myself as a journeyman printer to
Mr. Wilson, then just establishing the Gazette.
Here I became slightly acquainted with General
Jackson, who, being intimate with my employer,
frequently visited the office. In about a month,
my brothers at Cincinnati having got wind of my
erratic movements, and having ascertained my
whereabouts, sent me an earnest invitation to return home. I accepted it joyfully, took leave of
my kind employer and his excellent family, and
walked off to Cincinnati, a distance of three hundred miles. Here ended my wanderings for a
while.
CHAPTER IV.
AT Cincinnati, among my numerous relations
and friends, I spent a very happy winter. The
evenings were delightful-singing meetings, de



22


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


bating societies, religious gatherings, oratorios,
family parties, and politics, served to fill up my
time rather agreeably; added to which, I attended a series of law lectures, performed the duties
of clerk in one of my brothers' stores, on a salary
of eight dollars per month, and played the organ
in the New Jerusalem church three times every
Sunday, and every Thursday evening, besides
teaching a whole lot of young New Jerusalemites
the art of psalmody two evenings each week.
Toward spring, finding I had a little time to
spare, I joined a Thespian society, who held their
meetings in a building belonging to Elmore Williams, in upper Market Street. I was the hero
of the corps, and enacted Young Norval. A Mr.
Sweeney (afterward justice of the peace) was
Lady Randolph, and he acted the character very
well, considering that his voice was decidedly a
baritone, and he had not shaved for a week!
The "meditating maid," Anna, was personated
by Mr. George Row, a tall, lank carpenter, who
chewed tobacco, and was obliged to turn aside
every now and then to spit. Glenalvon, Mr.
Davis, who afterward attached himself to the
stage, but with no success. Of all the members
of that society, I know of but one-leaving myself out of the count for others to judge of-who
did not go to the devil! And it may not be
thought improper here for me to say a word or
two on the subject of amateur theatricals.
I never knew any good to come from Thespian
societies; and I have known them to be productive of much harm. Performing a character with
success (and Thespians are always successful) inevitably begets in the performer a desire for an
enlarged sphere of action. If he can please his
townsmen and friends, why should he not delight
a metropolitan audience? He becomes dissatisfied with his profession or business, whatever it
may be, applies to a manager for a first appearance in a regular theatre-appears-fails-takes
to drink, and is ruined. Then to see the inordinate vanity of those amateurs who occasionally
"volunteer" for some charitable purpose; the
airs of consequence they give themselves; the ignorance they betray of a profession which they
degrade by adopting even for a single night; the
consummate impudence with which they strut before the public in the highest characters; not a
shadow of fright about them-oh no! Their
friends are in the house to applaud them, whether
they deserve applause or not. Their success is
not doubtful; the thing is settled; they must
succeed; and they generally do, for applause is
bountifully and indiscriminately showered upon
them, and they are, in their own minds, immensely great actors before they have the slight

est knowledge of the first rudiments of the profession.
A gentleman actor once told me that he had
asked Mr. Booth's opinion of his acting in the
character of Richard, and that Booth had acknowledged himself beat!
The foundation of the Columbia Street Theatre
was laid this year, and the company of Messrs.
Collins and Jones performed for a short season
in the second story of Burrows and Tunis's store,
corner of Columbia and Walnut Streets.
Late in the winter of 1820 the new theatre
opened with WIVES AS THEY WERE. Sir Willliam Dorillon, Mr. Collins; Bronzely, Mr. Jones;
Lord Priory, Mr. Lucas; Miss Dorillon, Mrs.
Groshon. Mr. Collins was an excellent actor;
so was Jones. Mrs. Groshon was deservedly a
great favorite. I had never seen her superior
in Lady Macbeth. James M. Scott (afterward
known as Big Scott, or Tragedy Scott, but better as Long Tom Coffin) was a leading member
of this company. Mr. Garner, then a vocalist
of some pretensions, performed a starring engagement, opening and closing in THE DEVIL'S
BRIDGE. It was in this piece that old Fred Henderson first began to be appreciated by the audience. In after years he became an immense favorite, not only in Cincinnati, but in all the Western towns. It was a treat to see him and Alexander Drake in the farce of TURN OuT!
When the theatre closed for the season (1820)
I felt my wandering propensities returning.
Without much ceremony of leave - taking, I
pushed for the westward again, and, strange as
it may seem, bent my course for Vincennes.
Arriving, I found my quondam master had farmed out his printing-office to a Mr. Osborn, with
whom I immediately engaged as a compositor.
I was kindly received by Mr. and Mrs. Stout,
the latter declaring that she liked me all the better for the spirit I had shown in running away.
In about a month's time my type-setting was interrupted, and my ideas all thrown into pi, by
the arrival of my old friend, Alexander Drake,
with a small company of comedians from St.
Louis. They were to play in Vincennes during
the summer months. The company was very
small. I was four hundred miles from home.
The temptation was too great to withstand. I
applied, was accepted, and here I made my first
attempts at acting upon a regular stage. My
salary was fixed at six dollars per week.
The company consisted of Messrs. A. Drake.
S. Drake, Jr., Palmer Fisher, Douglas, Jones.
Sol. Smith, and Mesdames Mongin, Fisher, ard (
three or four little female Fishers.
With a company so limited in number, it will




A SMALL COMPANY ON AN EIGHT-BY-TEN STAGE.


23


be supposed our range of pieces must have been | ander Drake, as Orozembo, in the first scene


extremely circumscribed; but this was not the
case; we grappled at PIZARRO, the POOR GENTLEMAN, and other equally full plays.
By a lamentable casualty, our number, small
as it was, was destined to be reduced. It was a
custom with us to bathe in the Wabash River
just previous to retiring for the night. Our hotel being on the bank of the river, we undressed
in our rooms, and, wrapping ourselves in sheets
or blankets, we so proceeded to our bath. One
morning Douglas was missing; several remembered he had been with us in the water, but none
had any recollection of seeing him when we came
out. His clothes were found in his room, but
there were no signs of his bed having been occupied that night. A search was immediately commenced, and resulted in finding the dead body
of our friend two miles below the town.
We had now but four men and two women,
and with this number we played PIZARRO. To
those unacquainted with country theatricals the
cast will be a curiosity:Pizarro, the Spanish general,  M. Drae.
Ataliba, king of Quito,
Rolla, the Peruvian leader,.Mr. isher.
Las Casas, a Spanish priest,.
Alonzo, joined with the Peruvians,....Mr. A. Drake.
Orozerbo, an old cacique,
High Priest of the Sun,
Almagro, a Spanish officer,
Btind man,...Mr. Sol. Smith.
Sentinel,
Valverde, secretary,
Guards
Peruvian boy................... Miss Fisher.
Elvira,
Elvira,............Mrs. Fisher.
Priestess of the Sun, }Mrs. Fisher.
Cora...........................Mrs. Mongin.
Child..........................Miss A. Fisher.
Thus Sam Drake (as Pizarro), after planning
an attack on the unoffending Peruvians while engaged in worship "at their ungodly altars," and
assigning his generals (me) their "several posts,"
in the next act is seen (as Ataliba) leading the Indian warriors to battle, declaring that "straight
forward will he march until he sees his people
free, or they behold their monarch fall!" He is
victorious, and goes to offer up thanks to the
gods therefor-when, presto! on comes the same
man again (as Pizarro), smarting under the
stings of defeat!
Fisher (as Las Casas) calls down a curse on
the heads of the Spaniards, throws off his cloak,
drops his cross, doffs his gray wig, and appears
in the next scene as the gallant Rolla, inciting
his " brave associates" to deeds of valor! Alex

gives an excellent character of the youth Alonzo,


pronouncing him to be a "nation's benefactor;"
he is then stuck under the fifth rib by a Spanish
soldier (that's me again), and is carried off by
his murderer; he then slips off his shirt and
skull-cap, claps on a touch of red paint, and behold, in the next scene, he is the blooming Alonzo, and engaged in a quiet tgte-t-tete with his
Indian spouse!
For my own part, I was the Spanish army entire! but my services were not confined to that
party. Between whiles I had to officiate as High
Priest of the Sun; then lose both of my eyes,
and feel my way, guided by a little boy, through
the heat of the battle, to tell the audience what
was going on behind the scenes; afterward, my
sight being restored and my black cloak dropped,
I was placed as a sentinel over Alonzo! Besides, I was obliged to find the sleeping child,
fight a blow or two with Rolla, fire off three
guns at him while crossing the bridge, beat the
alarm drum, and do at least two thirds of the
shouting! Some may think my situation was
no sinecure; but, being a novice, all my exertions
were nothing in comparison with those of the
Drakes, particularly Sam, who frequently played
two or three parts in one play, and, after being
killed in the last scene, was obliged to fall far
enough off the stage to play slow music as the
curtain descended!
Our stage was ten feet wide and eight feet
deep. When we played pieces that required
bridges and mountains, we had not much room
to spare; indeed, I might say we were somewhat
crowded.
I generally " went on" for what is termed the
youthful business-Henry in SPEED THE PLOUGH,
Henry in the MAGPIE AND MAID, Belville in the
COUNTRY GIRL, and other characters of a similar grade, but almost always had to "double"
them with something else. I recollect going on
for Frederick and Stephen Harrowby in the
POOR GENTLEMAN. We played mostly from
the Dublin (doubling) edition.
The season lasted about eight weeks. The
company proceeded to Louisville, and I footed it
back to Cincinnati, declining the offers of the
Drake family for a permanent engagement, being
fearful of the disapprobation of my brothers, who
as yet knew nothing of the manner of employing
my time in Vincennes. Being partially satisfied
with my few weeks' experience as an actor, I
now determined to "study the law."   I was
taken into the justice's office of Daniel Roe, and
had the advantage of the books and instruction
of Mr. Todd, an excellent lawyer and a worthy




* ~:


24


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


man, since dead. Here, and by attending the
law lectures of William Greene, Esq., I picked
up what little I know of that " intricate science,"
as it is termed by Sir Walter Scott. Mr. Drake
came to Cincinnati soon after, and opened our
Thespian House, under the style of the Haymarket Theatre; but the concern was unsuccessful, and the company returned to Louisville.
In the winter of 1821, the Columbia Street
Theatre was managed jointly by Mr. Drake and
Mr. Collins, the partner of the latter gentleman
(Mr. Jones) remaining with a company in the
southwestern towns. The drama of the FORTY
THIEVES was produced with great splendor, and
many other novelties were offered; but the season was an unproductive one. The company
was indifferent, and the patronage worse than
indifferent.
I continued to study the LAW.
CHAPTER V.
THE Cincinnati Theatre was opened by Messrs.
Collins and Jones for the season of 1821-2 with
the following company: Messrs. Collins, Jones,
Cargill, Hays, Henderson, Bruce, Miss Denny,
Mrs. Groshon, Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Hanna, and
Miss Seymore (afterward Mrs. Cargill). I made
application for the situation of prompter, and
was engaged in that capacity.
4
First Appearance of Miss Peggy.
Mr. Cooper, then the leading tragedian of this
country, performed an engagement during this
season. On the first night of his engagement the
following whimsical incident occurred: OTHELLO
was the play:
The fame of the great tragedian had drawn a
crowded audience, composed of 'every description
of persons, and among the rest a country lass of
sixteen, whom (not knowing her real name) we
will call Peggy. Peggy had never before seen
the inside of a playhouse. She entered at the
time Othello was making his defense before the
duke and senators. The audience were unusually attentive to the play, and Peggy was permitted to walk in the lobby until she arrived at
the door of the stage box, when a gentleman
handed her in, without withdrawing his eyes
from the celebrated performer, and her beau, a
country boy, was obliged to remain in the lobby.
Miss Peggy stared about for a moment, as if
doubting whether she was in her proper place,
till, casting her eyes on the stage, she observed
several chairs unoccupied. It is probable this


circumstance alone would not have induced her
to take the step she did, but she observed the
people on the stage appeared more at their ease
than those among whom she was standing, and,
withal, much more sociable, and, as fate would
have it, just at the moment, Othello, looking
nearly toward the place where she was situated,
exclaimed,
"Here comes the lady."
The senators half rose, in expectation of seeing the " gentle Desdemona," when lo! the maiden from the country stepped from the box plump
on the stage, and advanced toward the expecting Moor! It is impossible to give any idea of
the confusion that followed. The audience clapped and cheered-the duke and senators forgot
their dignity-the girl was ready to sink with
consternation-even Cooper himself could not
help joining in the general mirth. The uproar
lasted for several minutes, until the gentleman
who had handed her into the box helped the
blushing girl out of her unpleasant situation. It
was agreed by all present that a lady never made
her ddbut on any stage with more eclat than
Miss Peggy.
At the close of the season I withdrew from
the theatre and got married. The gentlewoman
who honored me with her hand was Martha
Therese Mathews, daughter of Edwin Mathews,
a musician of considerable.repute at that time,
and teacher of music. Miss Mathews was principal soprano singer in the Haydn Society, of
which I was also a member. When I commenced married life I had exactly four dollars
and sixty-two cents, which I handed to the minister as his fee. A month passed away very
happily at a brother's house, after which it occurred to me one day that some means must be
thought of by which to obtain eatables and drinkables. One morning I strolled over the river
into Covington. I roamed about the hills back
of the town, humming and whistling a variety of
tunes, and was as happy as a lark. On a sudden it occurred to me that I possessed some
knowledge of the science oqf music, and next I
thought to myself, "Why may not I turn that
knowledge to account?" I will open a singingschool-I WILL! Full of the idea, I ran into the
town, crossed the Licking, and asked the first
person I met if he thought a singing-school could
be gotten up in Newport. "Well, stranger,"
he answered, " I don't know but you mout get
one a-going; there are a heap of young people
here, and nary a school for teaching to sing."
" Enough!" said I; "next Saturday I open a
singing-school at the Court-house." Proposals




STARTING A VILLAGE SINGING-SCHOOL.


'25


were soon written, and in the course of the after- truly say I was honest in my editorial course,
noon I obtained fifty subscribers, at a dollar a and I believe at this day all who were opposed to
head, payable at the end of the quarter. Full the establishment will admit that my intentions
of confidence in the success of my scheme, I re- were good. There was a series of letters pubturned to Cincinnati, and purchased four dozen lished during the first six months which caused
of Flint's edition of " Sacred Harmony," with great excitement, inasmuch as they bore heavily
which I returned, on the following Saturday, to (under fictitious names) on some of the oldest
commence my school. I found the grand jury- inhabitants, exposing many transactions for years
room crowded, and had no difficulty in dispos- supposed to have been forgotten. I was threating of my stock of books on a credit (that was ened with all sorts of punishments, and was sev

the way I purchased them), and at it we went,
singing psalms. I practiced my school in raising and falling the "eight notes" for about two
hours, then "fa-sol-la'd" the men, women, boys,
and girls, separately and together, for an hour
more, and wound up at sundown with a touch of
" Old Hundred" and " Vital Spark." Appointing
the next Saturday as the second meeting of the
school, we separated, apparently mutually pleased
with each other. On Sunday I was at my post
playing the organ in the little " Temple," and I
related to my brother Sam and my fast friend
Southerd Holmes, both leading members of our
singing society, the success which had attended
my attempt to establish a school among the Kentuckians, and received their warmest congratulations.
About the middle of the following week it occurred to me, while sitting reading a newspaper
in a printing-office, that a new paper was very
much needed in Cincinnati. Without saying a
word to any one, I took a composing-stick and
set up ten lines of types, proposing to establish a
weekly newspaper, to be called the Independent
Press. I worked off twenty copies of my tenline prospectus, and, taking one of them, went
up Main Street and obtained ninety subscribers.
Next morning I called at John P. Foote's typefoundery and selected $200 worth of types, which
he very readily agreed to let me have on a liberal credit, and, borrowing a wheelbarrow, I
packed my types into it, and wheeled them up to
Mr. Oliver Farnsworth's printing-office on Main
Street. Leaving my wheelbarrow at the door, I
entered the office, and asked Mr. F. if he would,
for a proper compensation, permit me to print
a paper there. He consented, the terms were
agreed on, and I pulled off my coat and went to
work setting up the type for the first number of
my paper.
By dint of hard labor, night and day, the "Independent Press" made its appearance on the
4th of July, 1822. On the day of the first publication the subscription list increased to three
hundred, and in a few weeks swelled to seven
hundred! I shall say little about this paper. It
carried considerable influence with it. I can




eral times attacked by persons who thought themselves aggrieved, but, somehow or other, always
happened to come off with unbroken bones and
a whole skin.
Almost a Street Fight.
One little incident, which amounted almost to
what might be termed a " street fight," I must
relate. A candidate for office, whose name I
change to Bubble, complained of a communication published in my paper, and demanded the
name of my correspondent. I told Bubble that
I would see the writer, and in the afternoon of
the same day would either surrender his name
or assume the responsibility of the article myself.
It so happened that, for certain reasons of a personal nature, the author of the communication
wished not to be known (as frequently happens
in such cases), and with a good nature which I
now consider scarcely commendable, I agreed to
shoulder the responsibility and screen the writer.
Meeting Mr. Bubble on the south side of Main
Street, I told him that his delmand for the name
of the author of the obnoxious article could not
be complied with, but that, of course, I was responsible to the law for any thing that appeared
in my paper. I soon found it was not to the law
I was to be held amenable; it was to Mr. Bubble
personally (a tall, stout, heavy man, of nearly
twice my size: I was very thin then) that I must
account. I shall not attempt to give the language used on the occasion. It is sufficient to
state that we were both of us very polite at first,
but gradually my friend Bubble changed his tone
-all the time keeping the up-hill side of me, bythe-by-until, in a very short time, he so far lost
his temper as to tell me I lied.
Now I don't know how the reader may view
my conduct on this occasion. I knew I had not
lied, and I knew his saying I lied did not hurt
me a jot; yet-consider I was only twenty-one
years old at the time-under the circumstances,
knowing that a fight was exactly what Bubble
was after, and being quite certain I could not escape from him even by running, and, moreover,
entertaining the foolish idea (being, as I said,
young) that no man should "take the lie," my




26


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


left fist somehow or other very suddenly came in battled away in the cause of Democracy for many
contact with Bubble's forehead, exactly between years-was " rewarded" with the nomination to
his eyes and over his nose, and that gentleman an office which the Senate would not advise and
found himself sprawling in the gutter then and consent to-lived to a good old age, and died of
there. The result of the blow astonished the joy on hearing of Polk's election in 1844.
giver more than it did the receiver, and an awful  One morning, as I was walking very fast up
drubbing was what I fully expected as soon as Main Street from the post-office with a bundle
my opponent should rise. So it occurred to me of exchange papers under my arm, a gentleman
that it would be as well to guard against such a in a Kentucky jean coat and white hat nearly
disaster by following up my first blow with sun- started from  the sidewalk when he met me.
dry other blows, as he was endeavoring to regain Wondering at the man's surprise, and his counhis feet. By the means last indicated, I man- tenance appearing somewhat familiar to me., I
aged-though considerably frightened, I acknowl- turned, after passing him a few steps, and obedge-to keep my opponent in the gutter until served he stood precisely in the same place as
our mutual friends rushed in and separated us; when I first noticed him, with one foot on the
and greatly rejoiced I was when they did so, I curbstone and the other in the centre of the gutgive you my word. As for Bubble, he raved ter. "Do you know me, my friend, that you
and tore like a madman, cursing his friends for stare at me so?" I inquired, returning toward
separating us, and declaring that he had not yet him a step. "That's what I want to find out,"
got a lick at me, which (luckily for me) was the he replied; "I think I've seen you before; if I
very truth. It is my belief to this day that if I mout be so bold, mout your name be Smith?"
had permitted my opponent to rise, as I suppose " It is, sir-you want to subscribe to my paper,
in a fair fight I should have done, he would have I suppose-come up to themoffice." Without utused me up in very short order; for he was noted tering a word, he followed to my office, where I
for several "rough and tumble" fights, in which took down the subscription book and inquired
he had invariably come out victorious. My vic- his name. The fellow continued to stare at me
tory must be attributed solely to the fact that I for some time without answering, and at length,
was too much frightened to allow Bubble to hit with a ghastly sort of smile, said, "Excuse me
me at all.                                 if I'm mistaken, but are you or are you not our
Thus began and ended all my fighting while singing-master?"
engaged in the editorial line-that is to say, all  The truth flashed upon me in an instant; I
fist-fighting. Bubble spread my fame through- had.obrgotten allaboutmy singing-school! "Old
out the district, saying that if I could whip him, Hundred" had been pressed from my memory,
there was no use in others trying their hand with and the " Vital Spark" had not once entered my
me.                                        mind since I had become an editor!
My friend in the jeans and white hat informed
Besides writing the editorials of the Independ- me that my failure to meet my appointment had
ent Press, which I did at home, after working caused great consternation in Newport; that the
hours, whenever there was an end to them-for scholars had continued to meet for several Saturoftentimes the working hours continued through day afternoons, in the continued hope of my renight as well as day-with but one assistant (my appearance, and that at 'last, reluctantly giving
young brother Lemuel), I did all the work of the me up as lost, they had dissolved the school, singoffice. Many a time on a Sunday have I played ing " Old Hundred" and " Vital Spark" to my
the organ in the New Jerusalem temple for the memory out of the four dozen of "Flint's Sacred
opening services, consisting of a hymn and a Harmony," which they despaired now of ever
couple of chants, and then, seeing the good old having an opportunity to pay me for.
Mr. Hurdus well under way in one of his long  Late in the winter of 1823 Messrs. Collins and
sermons, slipped away to the office and helped Jones again opened the Cincinnati Theatre. The
my brother "work off" the first side of the pa- members of the company this season were:
per, returning to the temple in time-with not Messrs. Collins, Jones, Scott, Forrest, Davis, Ebvery clean hands-to accompany "Strike the erle, Henderson, Groshon; Mrs. Pelby, Mrs. RidCymbals,'! the " Hallelujah Chorus," or some dle, Miss Riddle, Miss Fenton, and Miss Eliza
other stirring piece at the close of the services.  Riddle, then but a child. The opening play was
Moses Dawson and myself were the two first the SOLDIER'S DAUGHTER, the part of Young
editors who raised the standard of General Jack- Malfort by Mr. Edwin Forrest. Being editor of
son in Ohio. "Brother Mosey," as I used to a paper, I was, of course and ex-officio, a judge
call him in our affectionate editorial intercourse, of theatrical matters; but when I gave a very




AN INDEPENDENT PRESS DISCONTINUED.


27


favorable opinion of Forrest's acting in the comparatively trifling character of Mal/ort, my brother editors laughed at me-and afterward, when
he played Richard for his benefit, I prophesied
his future greatness, they set me down as little
less than a madman. They said I would " spoil
the lad"-" he was a clever boy, certainly, but
puffing would ruin him." Mr. Pelby acted as a
star during this season, as did Mr. Pemberton,
Forrest playing Titus and Icilius to their Brutus
and Viryinius.
In the summer the company proceeded to Louisville; but a party of them soon returned and
opened the Globe Theatre on Main Street. This
party consisted of Messrs. Forrest, Scott, Carl,
Woodruff, and Davis; Mrs. Riddle, Miss Riddle,
Mrs. Cargill, and Mrs. Hanna. At this house
Forrest played Othello and many other characters for the first time, but with scarcely any
knowledge of the text, his taste generally leading
him to prefer the low comedy characters! I
recollect seeing him play Blaise and Lubin-and
very well he played them too. Finding he was
trifling away his time, I advised him to write to
New Orleans for an engagement, which he did,
and closed with Mr. Caldwell for the ensuing
winter season, at a salary of eighteen dollars per
week.
My brother Martin wrote a petit comedy for
the Globe Theatre, entitled MODERN FASHIONS,
which was quite successful, Forrest and Scott
playing a pair of dandies in it. I wrote a sort of
a farce called the TAILOR IN DISTRESS, in which
a well-known merchant tailor in Main Street figured as the hero, and in which Forrest performed
the part of a negro. Business being bad, and
believing our two pieces played together might
produce the expenses, I engaged the house for
one night, agreeing to pay each performer the
sum of two dollars. Thus Edwin Forrest acted
a dandy in the first piece, a negro in the second,
and Sancho Panza in the concluding pantomime,
all for the sum of two dollars!
Business failing altogether in the Globe Theatre, the members of the company scattered in
different directions. Forrest and Davis, with
the Riddle family, made an excursion into the
country, and performed in the small towns of
Ohio with no success. At Lebanon, or Dayton,
Forrest was obliged to pledge a trunk of stage
wardrobe for his bill at a boarding-house or tavern; and whether he has yet recovered it I am
unadvised. One day the party traveled on foot
from Lebanon to Cincinnati-twenty-two miles
- crossed the river to Newport, and played


the summer, and in the fall they all joined Collins and Jones at Lexington, in Kentucky.
When I had published seventy-two numbers of
the "Press" I began to find carrying on a newspaper without capital was a bad business. My
notes fell due; subscribers were delinquent: I
could not live on politics, and I sold out. The
" Press" was merged in the "National Republican," which became a firm supporter of Andrew
Jackson for the presidency, as my paper had
been. Elijah Hayward, who succeeded me in
the chair editorial, on the accession of General
Jackson in 1828 was appointed Commissioner
of the General Land-office. My last words to
the readers of the Independent Press were, "Live
honestly, serve God, and take the newspapers."
Shortly after disposing of my paper, I made a
tour into Kentucky for the purpose of making
collections. Mr. Drake was performing with his
company at Frankfort, the seat of government,
where he had established a theatre as early as
1816. Mr. William Jones came down from Lexington to act Falstaff for the benefit of a friend,
and I took a seat with him in his gig on his return. On the way he told me Mr. Collins and
himself were about to retire from management,
and he suggested that it would be a good opportunity for me to commence a business he knew I
was attached to. I had never thought of such a
thing as becoming manager of a theatre; but, the
idea once in my brain, it was hard to banish it.
I played one night in Lexington the character
of Numpo, Forrest doing the part of Myrtyllo.
Somehow or other it got reported among the
actors that I was there for the purpose of forming a company for Cincinnati, and several applications were made for engagements before I had
made up my mind to enter into the speculation.
In my hap-hazard way I decided to venture, and
engaged several performers; among others, "old
Henderson" and the Riddle family. Forrest
wished to form an engagement with me, but, as
he was under a previous contract with Mr. Caldwell at New Orleans, I consulted his interests
rather than my own, and refused to receive him.
In vain he urged that he could easily compromise
with the Southern manager, and that he would
rather be with me at ten dollars per week than
with a stranger at more than twice the salary;
all would not do. I was steadfast in my refusal.
In a pet with me, he went to the Circus, and
made an engagement with the proprietors to go
with them as a rider and a tumbler for a year!
I heard of this arrangement just as I was about
to leave Lexington, and my mortification was


I


DOUGLAS and Miss IN HER TEENS to a house great. I called in at the Circus, and, sure enough,
of seven dollars! They contrived to get through there was Ned in all his glory, surrounded by




28                  AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.
riders, tumblers, and grooms. He was a little strong argument, I prevailed on him to abandon
abashed at seeing me, but, putting a good face on his new profession, and commence his journey to
the matter, he said he had made up his mind not New Orleans immediately.
to go to New Orleans, and, having been refused  Here ends my prologue. From  this time
an engagament at ten dollars a week by me, he (1823) for thirty years I followed the precarious
had engaged "with these boys" at twelve. To occupation of a THEATRICAL MANAGER, with
convince me of his ability to sustain his new line what results will be seen by following me through
of business, he turned a couple of flip-flaps on my checkered career, as recorded in the FIVE
the spot. I asked him to walk with me to  y ACTS (or eras) into which this skimming history
lodgings, where, by dint of hard lecturing and is divided.




ACT FIRST.
1823  1827.


CHAPTER I.
I PROCEEDED to Cincinnati with my company, and, after the usual troubles and vexations (increased by inexperience in my new business), commenced my managerial career in the
"Globe." The company was composed of the
following individuals: Messrs. Henderson, L.
Smith, Davis, Sweeney, G. Rowe, Eberle, Joey
Williams, Sturdevant, Sol. Smith, Mrs. Riddle,
Miss Riddle, Miss Fenton, and Miss E. Riddle.
Joey Williams was destroyed by wolves in Florida a vear or two after. He was traveling on
foot from Pensacola to St. Augustine, and, being
benighted, camped out in one of the everglades
of that region. The only vestige found next
morning by his professional companions was a
quantity of tickets strewn about, and some wigs
and stage properties torn Into small pieces.
The once celebrated Jack Dwyer performed
an engagement of six nights. The season failed,
as I might have expected it would, and we removed to the Columbia Street Theatre, which I
rented of Mr. Collins; but no better success
awaited us there. My funds ran out, and most
of my actors scattered, as actors generally do
when they find no money is to be had-and they
are right, for they can not live on air-though I
have almost done so on several occasions. At
the close of the theatre I found myself in debt
eleven hundred and fifty dollars. Rather an unfortunate beginning.
With a remnant of my company I proceeded
to Wheeling, where we fitted up a room and
played a few nights with very indifferent success.
The people were indifferent to our indifferent
performances. The same at Steubenville. After
numerous hardships and adventures, we arrived
at Pittsburg, when I rallied my broken forces, and
opened the theatre with a very good company.
Outwitting a Sheriff.
On our way from Wheeling to Steubenville we
passed through the small village of Wellsburg,
Virginia. Being urged by the inhabitants to
perform one night, and hoping to raise a suffi

cient sum to pay our wagon and carriage hire,
we consented. A room was soon fitted up, and
bills were issued. The time fixed upon for the
curtain to rise was "eight o'clock precisely," as
the bills have it. " Eight o'clock precisely"
came precisely at eight o'clock, but there came
not one living being in the shape of an auditor!
On inquiry, our landlord informed us that the
price of admission was too high, and the Wellsburgers were unanimously determined that we
should come down with our price of tickets before they would come up to our room. There
was no alternative-the price of tickets was reduced to " twenty-five cents each, children half
price, " and the Virginians " came at last to comfort us," to the number of full sixty. Between
the play and afterpiece (the play was the BLUE
DEVILS, and the afterpiece the POOR SOLDIER),
the landlord, who acted as doorkeeper for the
time, informed me the sheriff wished to see me
for the purpose of serving a writ, a complaint
having been entered that we were showing without license. Our receipts were fifteen dollarsthe penalty we had unwittingly incurred was forty
dollars. Paying it was out of the question. I
could not think of going to prison. Outwitting
the sheriff was my only chance. It was Saturday night. I directed the doorkeeper to invite
Mr. Sheriff to take a seat among the auditors,
and I would attend him soon as our performance
should conclude. This was satisfactory to the
officer. He seated himself and enjoyed the entertainmuent very much. By introducing a few
additional songs, I contrived that the curtain
should not fall until after twelve o'clock. The
good-natured sheriff was then invited behind the
scenes, and he proceeded to execute the writ,
apologizing for the necessity which compelled
him to perform the disagreeable duty. "My
dear sir," said I, leisurely proceeding with my
undressing arrangements, " don't apologize
these things must be done; but why did you not
serve your writ some minutes ago? You are now
too late." "Too late! How so?" " Why, my
dear sir, it is Sunday, and I make it a rule never
to transact business, particularly law business, on
the Sabbath." The sheriff here consulted his




30


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


OUTWITTING A SHERIFF.
watch, and found he had been overreached. Don Guzman, was too slow in getting to sea"Sure enough, it is past twelve, I do believe, there was time enough for the whole town to be
and I don't think I can touch you. Well, curse alarmed; that the combat with Ferdinand was
me if I can be angry with you, Mr. Darby. shockingly bad, and that if he did not improve
Come, all hands, and take a drink."  On Mon- in fighting he had better leave the profession.
day morning we were in Ohio, where old Vir- My father-in-law remarked of Mr. Lucas that he
ginia could not reach us. We performed a few  had murdered Doctor Pangloss a few nights benights at Steubenville, Ohio, but our audiences fore, and that on another occasion he was too
were small.                                 drunk to guard the prisoner Alonzo. A good
deal of similar chit-chat took place, to hear
Nearly arrested as Pirates  which did the waiting-maid seriously incline.
Nearly arrested as Pirates.        Next morning, when about to pursue our jourOn our journey from Steubenville to Pittsburg ney, we were surprised to see quite a crowd colwe put up for the night at a very small village on lected about our baggage-wagon. Having occathe Virginia side, about midway between the two sion to open one of my trunks, I noticed that the
places. My father-in-law, my wife, my brother, gentlemen composing the crowd watched me rathand myself supped at a private table. At sup- er more closely than I thought was necessary for
per our conversation turned on the performances the gratification of mere curiosity. Being in
of the night previous at Steubenville, which had Virginia, it occurred to me that the Wellsburg
consisted, among other things, of the pantomime sheriff was not far off. I determined to know
~of DON JUAN.                               my fate at once; so, after unlocking one of my
The girl who waited on us at table was very boxes and raising the lid, I turned suddenly to
attentive to our conversation, in the course of the crowd and asked, "Gentlemen, is there a
which I observed that Davis, after murdering sheriff among you?"  "No," answered a big



SCENES FROM RICHARD III. AT GREENSBURG.


31


whiskered fellow, "we are none of us sheriffs,
but there'll be a constable here presently, who
will do as well." My Wellsburg friend has sent
on the writ to one of his deputies, thought I.
" Well, gentlemen, if none of you are sheriffs, I
will thank you to retire; I don't know what you
can want about my luggage." "Why, stranger," again spoke the big-whiskered Virginian,
" there's no use your getting mad, you've got to
stop here-we know you, and you'll not get off in
a hurry, I promise you."  "Not get off? You
have no right to detain me; I have incurred no
penalty here." " No, I don't know that you have,
here; but you may have to pay the penalty here,
if so be our court has jurisdiction of your case."
Curse those licenses! thought I to myself; they
will be the ruin of me yet! I determined to settle the matter at once. " Look you, my friends,
you say I shall not get off. I think I shall, as I
believe you have no right whatever to detain me.
I outwitted your sheriff at Wellsburg, and I think
the deuce is in it if I can't get clear of your constable."
I called to my father-in-law to follow in the
carriage with my family (as I supposed they
would not trouble them), and began to whip the
horses of my baggage-wagon at a furious rate;
but before the animals had made a start the reins
were seized by three men, and big-whiskers thus
addressed me: "Stranger, you are in old Virginia, and you mustn't think of getting off. We
don't mean to let pirates pass through here, no
way, no how." " PIRATES!" exclaimed I: "do
you then take us for pirates?" "No," answered
whiskers, " we don't take you at all, but the constable will; and we only intend to keep you until
he comes." I felt relieved. We were not to be
arrested for the tax, at all events. " What reason have you for thinking us pirates?" I ventured to ask. "What reason?"-whiskers was
still the spokesman-" that's a good one! In
the first place, what can honest people do with
such a heap of plunder as you are toting in that
wagon? Nextly, your confessions last night before Peggy Duncan, while you were eating supper. Didn't one of your men like to have been
taken before he escaped to the ship, after killing
a Don? Didn't you threaten to discharge him
because he fought so bad? Then that 'ere doctor which one of your people murdered 'tother
night in Steubenville -Dr. Panglosh, I believe,
was his name-and then got so drunk -or the
strength on't that he couldn't guard one of your
prisoners. Reason, indeed! But there's one
thing you can't get over, I reckon-that there
figurin' and letterin' on the back of that box, to
say nothing of the queer-looking clothes you've


got in it."  Wondering what he could mean by
the " figurin' and letterin'," I turned up the box,
when, to my utter confusion, the following inscription appeared, as near as could be imitated
with Venetian red, in letters of blood:
"By thee I fell, thy fate's decreed;
Heaven will avenge the bloody deed."
And underneath, as if to place the matter beyond
a doubt, the following:
"DON GUZMAN
MUJ)ERED BY DON JUAN, AUGUST, A.D. 1464."
The truth of the matter was this: we had played DON JUAN at Steubenville the night before,
and the property-man had painted up the back of
this very box to make it answer for a pedestal for
Don Guzman to stand on-there being no horse
for him to sit on - and the letters remained, a
damning proof of our guilt. I did not stop to
comment on the absurdity of the villagers in supposing we would publish our misdeeds on our boxes, even had we been pirates, but thought it best
to explain matters to my friend with the whiskers,
and leave him to settle the matter with his neighbors, for, truth to tell, I did a little dread the arrival of the officers, still remembering the tax
business. I accordingly took whiskers aside and
explained that we were actors instead of pirates,
and thus accounted for our conversation at supper, and the mysterious inscription. He roared
with laughter, and slapped me on the back until
I was quite sore. By the time we were ready
for a start, the crowd had been made aware of
their mistake, and had dispersed. The only one
who remained - and he only staid, as he said,
to see us off-was my whiskered friend, who continued inspecting our "plunder" to the very last.
While awaiting at Pittsburg the arrival of the
recruits we expected from Louisville, Lucas,
Davis, and my brother Lemuel made a trip
to Greensburg, thirty-two miles distant, where
they gave an entertainment, consisting of Scenes
from RICHARD, songs, recitations, and SYLVESTER DAGGERWOOD. Davis strutted on for Riclard; Lucas "doubled" King Henry and the
Earl of Richmond; and my brother enacted
Catesby, the Lieutenant of the Touwer, Buckingham, and a few other characters, all in one dress.
Richard wore a common soldier's coat, the royal Henry a Scotch kilt, and Catesby a Roman
shirt. As they had no curtain, Catesby was ordered to bear off the body of King Henry, after
that unfortunate monarch was murdered in the
Tower; and the same ceremony took place with
the tyrant himself, after his disaster in Bosworth
Field, Catesby doing the "heavy business" in
both cases.  The murdered King Henry the




32


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


Sixth lived again in the Earl of Richmond, both
characters being personated, as I said before, by
Lucas. It was remarked that the family likeness was very striking, only the dresses were different, the aspiring earl wearing a sailor's jacket
and Turkish pantaloons, surmounted by a large
damask table-cloth, and a very fine officer's hat
and plume. By this performance, such as it was,
the three strolling gentlemen made enough to
pay for their lights, lodging, and supper, and returned the next day poor as they went.
When the company was organized, it consisted of Messrs. Scott, Jones, L. Smith, Davis, Lucas, G. Rowe, Singleton, Eberle, Sol. Smith, Mrs.
Pelby, Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Rowe, and Miss Pelby.
I need not say, with such a company, pieces were
well played; indeed, I doubt whether the people
of Pittsburg, before or since, have had a better
company, yet the receipts fell far short of the expenses, and I was obliged, prematurely, to close
the season. My own debts I managed to pay,
but security debts I found it utterly impossible to
discharge.
Dodging the Constables.
My benefit came off, and a bumper it was!
The street in front of the theatre was literally
crowded with people long before the doors were
opened, and such scrambling for seats I had
never seen. The fact was, many of my creditors,
foreseeing a very small chance of getting their
money, had applied for tickets, which I paid out
with a liberal hand, without much regard to the
size of the house. The consequence was that I
had a most crowded audience, and but thirtythree dollars were received at the box-office! I
had taken places in the stage-coach for Philadelphia, and expected to be off the morning after my benefit; but the "warrants were out"
(" curse on all such instruments!"), and I was
warned by my friend Butler that after the performance I was to be put into durance vile. Not
wishing to stay and contest the point, I told my
friend of my wish to escape the fangs of those
worthies, the constables, who, to do them justice
(I speak now of those of Pittsburg), are the most
indefatigable set of personages I ever met with.
My friend'and I arranged that, so soon as the
curtain fell, I should descend through the trapdoor, and there remain in darkness and solitude
until he should warn me, by a signal agreed on,
that all was safe.
The performance proceeded, and I could observe my watchful friends becoming momentarily more eager for their prey. At length the curtain fell, and down I went through the trap-door


(it was what actors call a Vamnpire trap) before
any one was aware of my intentions. I was
scarcely out of sight before I heard earnest inquiries made for me above, but no one knew
what had become of me. My brother, being
questioned, answered, without the least hesitation, that I had jumped over a fence at the back
of the theatre, dressed as I had performed my
part, and he supposed I had gone home the back
way. The faithful ministers of the law immediately jumped over a very high fence, and started off in full cry. After waiting in the dark
about an hour, I heardmy friend Butler's signal,
and very willingly groped my way out of my hiding-place. He took me to his house, where he
had already conducted my wife and child. The
surprise of Mrs. Butler, when she saw me enter
the house dressed in full for the Doctor, in ANIMAL MAGNETISM, may be guessed. She had a
good supper prepared for us; after partaking of
which we were shown to an elegantly-furnished
apartment, where we were to stay until an opportunity should offer to smuggle us off in the
stage. Next morning Mr. Butler went out to
arrange such business for me as remained unsettled, and he was told I had most mysteriously
disappeared the night before. Some said I had
gone down the river in a steam-boat; others suggested I had gone in the stage eastwardly, but
this was denied by the constables, who said they
had watches ready to intercept me if I had attempted to go that way. At length the matter
was settled by a man who declared he had seen
me start down the river in a flat-boat, which I
had chartered some days previously, to his certain
knowledge. We remained a part of two days in
our concealment. Toward evening of the second day, my friend came to the door with a close
carriage, into which we got, and he accompanied
us five miles out of town (having previously arranged for the stage to take us up the next day),
furnished me with money for my immediate necessities, and we parted.
There are many versions of the trap story extant among my brother actors. One version is
that I was playing the Grave-digger in HAMLET,
and seeing the bailiffs waiting at the wings, and
ready to pounce upon me when I should make
my exit, I popped down into the grave, and never was heard of in that part of the country again!
Others say I was actually put into a coffin and
buried, to avoid the constables, and arose from
the tomb by the assistance of my friend Butler,
and fled the country! Both of these versions
are very good, certainly, but, as Sir Benjamin
says, "mine is the true one."




THE PHILADELPHIA THEATRES.


33


I am not the only actor who has been "hard
run" at Pittsburg. Some years since, a Mr.
Langton, and two or three other unfortunates,
had recourse to the following expedient to raise
the wind: They engaged themselves to the proprietor of a museum to dress and stand up in
the show-cases for wax figures! Langton personated General Jackson, and was much admired
for his natural appearance. He has since told
me that he never "went on" for a character
which proved so difficult to personate as the old
hero. He was about "throwing up the part"
several times, but the prospect of his dollar and
a half restrained him; so he stood out his three
hours and got his money, though he says, "by
the eternal!" he would not do it again for twice
the sum.
CHAPTER II.
ON our way to Philadelphia, my wife and
I gave concerts at Greensburg, Bedford, and
Chambersburg, with some success-that is, we
contrived to pay the expenses of our journey.
Arrived in Philadelphia, I lost no time in making application to Mr. Wood, manager of the
Chestnut Street Theatre. He received me kindly, and treated me with politeness, but he could
give me no encouragement in regard to an engagement, as the theatre was on the eve of closing for the season. I witnessed that night the
performance of the FORTRESS and A ROLAND
FOR AN OLIVER. The afterpiece was a rich
treat to me. How could it be otherwise, with
such a cast as the following?
Sir Mfark Chase................ Mr. Warren.
Fixture................. Mr. Jefferson.
Sir Alfred Highflyer............ Mr. Wemyss.
Selbourne...................... Mr. Darley.
Miaria..................... Mrs. Darley.
Mlirs. Selbourne.................. Mrs. Wood.
Mrs. Fixture................... Mrs. Jefferson.
Failing to obtain an engagement at the Chestnut Street, I next day applied to the manager of
the Tivoli Garden Theatre, who gave me to understand that in a few days I could have an appearance at that establishment. Fearing the
worst, I wrote to one of my brothers at Cincinnati, asking him to forward me fifty dollars by
mail. In less than a week I received a message
from the Tivoli acting-manager (Mr. Charles
Porter) that I could commence my engagement
next day; but, as a favor, he wished me to go
on that night (it was then five o'clock P.M.) for
three parts, in place of Mr. Crampton, who had
suddenly withdrawn. I huddled my things together, and went on for Sheepface in the VILC


LAGE LAWYER, the MOCK DOCTOR, and something else which I can not now remember. I
continued to play for a week, and, on application
at the treasury, was referred back to the manager, who told me that he had no idea I expected to be paid, and play all the best parts too!
Good parts without bread and cheese not answering my purpose, and my landlady beginning
to look rather dun-nish (her name was Brown),
I withdrew from the Tivoli, and accepted an offer of an engagement from my old Vincennes/
friend, Palmer Fisher, who, in conjunction with/
a Mr. Jones, was just opening a summer theatre
in the Vauxhall Garden. I soon found my situation was not much improved by transplanting
myself from one garden to the other. The mode
of paying salaries at the latter house did not
meet my approbation-indeed, it was a very singular one, and I will here state it, for the benefit
of all spirited managers in time to come. On
every Tuesday the proprietors of the garden issued to each performer a quantity of tickets, the
number being proportionate to the salary of
each, bearing on their face the following obligation:
GOOD AT THE BAR FOR ONE DRINK.
Not having occasion for drinks to the number
of two hundred and sixty-six (my salary being
rated at eight dollars per week), I declined to
take my tickets, and was laughed at by my fellow-actors, who considered me a "leetle too
d-d particular."
In due time the letter from my brother arrived, with the remittance; but I had no money
to pay the postage. I tried the manager-no
funds; my friend Porter, of the other house"he would if he could, but he couldn't." As a
last resort, I applied to Mr. Everdell, leader of
the orchestra, who had been under my management in Cincinnati and Pittsburg, and who
owed me about a hundred dollars. I asked him
for a loan of fifty cents, but he had not the
money to accommodate we! I must do him the
justice, however, to state that he offered to let
me have almost any number of drink tickets I
might want.
I happened to meet a friend from Pittsburg,
by the name of Shiras, to whom I had rendered
some slight service. Of him I borrowed a small
sum, and took out my letter. With my fifty
dollars I paid board and lodging bills, and had
five dollars remaining. With this we went to
Trenton, where I advertised a concert, in conjunction with a Mr. Still. The concert was unproductive. Still returned to Philadelphia, and
I hired a Jersey wagon (on a credit), which con



34


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIlED ACTOR.


veyed us to Princeton, where I delivered letters
of introduction to the president of the college.
A notice was written and posted up about the
college-yard, announcing that "Mr. and Mrs.
Smith, from Philadelphia, would give a vocal
concert" on such a night, " to consist of a great
variety of songs and duets, sentimental and
comic." I had but nine cents remaining of my
five dollars, and with this sum I purchased oil
sufficient to set a large lamp burning in the
centre of a school-room which I had rented for
the proposed concert. I engaged boys to bring
some additional benches from  a neighboring
church, promising them payment for their trouble in the evening. Having lighted my lamp
about sundown, I waited for nearly an hour,
doubtful whether a single individual would honor my concert by attending. Just as I was
about shutting up the room in despair, one young
gentleman came to the door, handed me half a
dollar, and walked in. "What! nobody here
yet?" "Notyet." "Any tickets sold?" "Don't
know-probably-left some for sale at the hotel." Never mind-I'll go and rouse up the
boys;" and off he went. I called a lad who was
loitering about the door, and dispatched him
with the half dollar to purchase candles. The
room lit up, I began to be haunted with misgivings that we should have no audience, and that
I should be required to refund the half.dollar to
the young man who had gone to "rouse the
boys." I was soon relieved from my suspense,
however, for the young collegian returned with
a dozen of his fellow-students.
Seeing I had no door-keeper, my first customer
proposed to take that office, advising me to go
and prepare myself for the performance, as the
house would soon be full. Most readily accepting his services, I retired into the little closet
set apart for our dressing-room, where my wife
was awaiting my coming with trembling anxiety.
Soon I heard a great stir in the room-moving
of benches, rustling of silk, opening of windows,
and all the indications of people gathering. At
length our volunteer door-keeper came sweating
to our closet, and announced that he believed
" they had all come." We commenced our concert, and our eyes were gladdened with the sight
of a room full of joyous-looking persons of both
sexes, fanning themselves for dear life.  The
concert went off finely, notwithstanding it was
exclusively vocal. When it was concluded, our
amateur door-keeper made his returns, and we
found ourselves in possession of the very handsome sum (in our circumstances) of forty-seven
dollars!-quite a fortune!
Delighted with our great success, we next


morning set off for Brunswick, where we arrived the same evening. This was my wife's
native town, and here we found a great many
relations-aunts, uncles, and cousins, but principally aunts. Leaving my wife and child with
their relations, I took a boat for New York, with
the hope of obtaining a situation at the Chatham
Theatre. I visited the Broadway Amphitheatre
and witnessed the representation of LOCK AND
KEY and the TURNPIKE GATE, Ralph and Crack
by Mr. Joe Cowell, both inimitable performances.
Presenting a letter of introduction from Mr.
Pelby to Mr. Kilner, stage-manager of the Chatham Theatre, I was received and treated civilly
by that gentleman. In answer to his inquiries, I
told him I had been on the stage but a short time;
that I was willing to engage for utility, in the fullest sense of the term, and that six dollars per
week was the sum I rated my services at. The
old gentleman seemed pleased with what he called
my modesty, and promised me an introduction to
the proprietor, Mr. Barriere. I waited in the garden for the arrival of that great personage. In
about two hours I saw a little saffron-faced fellow
approaching, and was informed by one of the waiters that he was the man. He looked more like
a cook than the director of a theatre; however,
I had nothing to do with his looks. It was geting late, and I was obliged to return to Brurtswick that evening, so I ventured to introduce
myself to the important individual, without waiting for Mr. Kilner, who was busy on the stage at
the time. I accosted him respectfully. He returned my salutation with a most killing look,
and the question, in a tone something like the
bark of a spoiled poodle, " What you vant?" I
told him what I wanted in as few words as possible, he walking away all the time, and I following. He cut the conversation and my hopes of
an engagement short by saying, in the same
barking tone, "I don't vant you, sair! I have
too many actors now; you may go, sair; I don't
vant you." Without waiting for a word of explanation or expostulation, the little-great man
strided away, leaving me standing near the fountain, looking for all the world as if I had been
stealing, and fearing to look one way or the other, lest my repulse had been witnessed by some
person-and, confound the fellow, he talked so
loudly too! Is there any necessity for treating
an applicant in this way? I know, by experience, managers are frequently-very frequently annoyed by applications from novices, but I
could never see any reason why they should be
treated with rudeness. On the contrary, it is
my opinion that it is one of the most delicate
duties a manager has to perform to give a refni



SHOP-KEEPING, AND THE "ROAD TO RUIN."


35


sal in such terms as will modify the harshness
which all novices imagine they are treated with
when their services are declined, as declined they
most generally must be.
Returning to New Brunswick, we gave a concert, which was profitable in a small way. We
then went to New York, and spent a week with
a cousin of mine, Mrs. Card, residing in Pearl
Street. My funds again running low, I thought
it high time to be doing something to recruit
them. I took a shop in Hudson Street, and purchased (on credit) a lot of earthen-ware, which
occupied, and nearly filled all the shelves; and
agreed with a Mr. Sage to sell books and music
on commission. This Mr. Sage had a tremendous bass voice, and could reach double C with
the greatest ease. Of Mr. Silas Harvey, an old
friend of our family, I borrowed the sum of twenty dollars, and of a Mr. Childs, a baker in Hudson Street, also an old friend, and member of the
New Jerusalem Church, I borrowed a bed, two
chairs, and a few other articles of furniture. At
the back of the shop was a room eight by twelve
feet in size, in which we lived; and I now declare, that for a couple of months I have never
been more happy. Our means were slender
enough, it is true, and some days we were somewhat stinted in our eatables; but we were industrious, saving, attentive to business, and contented. The books sold slowly-I let a few of them
out on hire-and I kept on my own account, independent of my "commission business," some
toy-books and fruit. The stock of crockery-ware
remained good, as I did not sell a single article.
My little capital of twenty dollars could not last
forever. With all my exertions to keep it good,
it dwindled away, little by little, until I found
myself nearly destitute again.
Mr. Simpson, manager of the Park Theatre,
passed by my door every day, and after much
rallying of my courage, I wrote and handed him
a note, expressing my wishes to attach myself, in
a situation ever so humble, to his establishment.
Next day, as he passed, he handed me a note,
stating that his company was full, and that he regretted it was not in his power to meet my
wishes.
This season (1824) the CATARACT OF THE
GANGES was brought out at the Park with great
splendor. I went to see it once. At the Chatham Garden PIzARRo was the great card, and
filled the house, for a great number of nights, to
overflowing. Mr. Hughes played Pizarro; Mrs.
Entwistle, Elvira; Messrs. Pelby, H. Wallack,
and others, Rolla. At this theatre I had the
pleasure-purchased for twenty-five cents, the
price of a pit ticket-to witness the representa

tion of the ROAD TO RUIN, with the following
cast of characters:
Goldfinch (first time)..........Mr. G. H. Barrctt.
Dornton...................... Mr. Kilner.
Harry Dornton................Mr. H.Wallack.
Sulky.........................Mr. Burke.
Silky....................... Mr. Spiller.
Jacob....................Mr. Simpson.
1Milford................  Mr. Moreland.
Hosier........................ Mr. Allen.
Mr. Smith....................Mr. Somerville.
Sophia.................... Mrs. Burke.
Widow Warren....  M........ Mrs. Walstein.
Jenny.......................
The afterpiece that night was the DAY AFTER
THE WEDDING, the character of Lady Elizabeth
being sustained by the beautiful Mrs. Henry, afterward Mrs. Barrett. I saw OTHELLO played,
with H. Wallack in Othello; Finn, Iago; Barrett, Cassio; Mrs. Henry, Desdemona. The season at the Chatham was very successful.
Star-gazing in Broadway.
My friend the baker, who loaned me the bed
and kitchen things, had a telescope of great magnifying power, which was a source of considerable profit to him. He was in the habit of taking
it up to the corner of Broadway and Chambers
Streets, and exhibiting the moon through it at
sixpence a sight. His receipts were generally
from two to three dollars a night. One evening
he came to my door with the telescope on his
shoulders, and, setting it down while he rested
himself, complained of a severe headache. I
told him if he did not feel well I would take his
telescope up to his stand for him, and do the best
I could, and he might return home. He thankfully accepted my offer, and said I should have
half the receipts for my trouble. I accordingly shut up shop, shouldered the telescope, and
marched off to the appointed spot. I had observed, on a former evening, when I had accompanied my friend, that considerable time had
elapsed before he could get any one to look
through the telescope; but after one or two had
taken a peep, others ventured. I therefore, on
my night, had scarcely planted the telescope on
the sidewalk and raised it up, pointing it to the
moon, before twenty boys were squabbling for
the first peep. I had promised them all a sight
gratis, and by this means a crowd was instantly
collected to see what was going on; and before
the free-list was half served, there were dozens
waiting with their sixpences ready to " pay for
peeping." I took good care, when a party of ladies and gentlemen were passing, to be lecturing
on the appearance of the moon-how distinctly
the land and water could be distinguished-re



36


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


marked upon the fine appearance of the volcanoes, and spoke of the snow that could be seen
upon the tops of the mountains-all of which
was eagerly caught at by the crowd. Business
was very good for two hours, after which it suddenly fell off, for then the moon went down! My
fortunes were suddenly obscured; an eclipse had
taken place, and I was in the dark. It was but
ten o'clock, and I tried to rally the crowd by telling them the evening-star presented a fine appearance through the telescope; but it would not
do. They deserted me. I had not counted my
sixpences; but my pockets felt pretty heavy, and I
was far from being dissatisfied with my two hours'
work; so, shouldering the instrument of my momentary good fortune, I wended my way homeward. As I was passing through Leonard Street,
I met three men, who proved to be a captain of
a vessel and two of his sailors. They hailed me,
and demanded what sort of craft I had in tow.
I told them it was a powerful telescope, with
which I had been viewing the stars (I knew the
moon was out of the question, and had been for
at least half an hour). " The stars! I say, shipmate, let's have a squint at them stars." " Certainly, sir; six cents a squint." " Very well. I
say, capt'n, and Jack, let's have eighteen pence
worth of stars. Up with your jury - mast."
"Yes." "That's it-steady!" " What star will
you have, gentlemen?" " Capt'n, what star will
you have?" " What star? why, let's see-Venus!" "Oh yes! Wenus, by all means." I
raised up the telescope, and pointed it to the
brightest star I could find, and when I had
turned the screws to regulate the focus, they
commenced star-gazing. After satisfying themselves with Wenus, they wanted to see Saturn,
Jupiter, and a host of others. I gratified them,
at sixpence each, until the receipts from my nautical customers amounted to three dollars! They
were very tipsy, and I believe they would have
given me their custom until daylight if I would
have consented to stay with them. When they
had viewed a great many planets and fixed stars,
my astronomical knowledge began to give out,
and I was obliged to show the same planets two
or three times over, taking care to change the
focus so as to give them a different appearance.
It was nearly one o'clock in the morning. I proposed to my customers to close the exhibition,
which they reluctantly agreed to; not, however,
until I consented, in consideration of their being
liberal patrons, to " throw in" a couple of planets
for good measure. Next morning I divided with
my friend the baker eighteen dollars and sixtytwo cents!


At length my capital entirely gave out. Cold
weather was coming on, and I thought it full
time to look out for winter quarters. A proposition was made to my landlord to receive back
the crockery-ware. Mr. Sage received his books.
My landlord received a note for the rent, and I
removed to New Brunswick, and took a furnished room from one of my wife's grand-aunts.
What to do for bread and butter I did not know.
Another concert was out of the question, my
wife not being able to assist. At length, learning that Mr. Fitz-Randolph, editor of the " Fredonian," was a member-elect of the State Senate, and that he would necessarily be in attendance on the Legislature at Trenton nearly three
months, I offered my services as editor during
his absence, and was engaged at six dollars per
week-to commence about Christmas, a month
from the time when the contract was made. I
felt perfectly satisfied with this arrangement as
regarded the future, but it was a matter of some
difficulty to know how we were to subsist until
Christmas. My money was all gone, and I always had an indescribable horror of being considered poor when I was so. Indeed, I believe I
would suffer from hunger a long time before I
would let any one know I was in need of a dinner. It may be called a foolish pride-I believe
it is-but I can not help it. When I have been
induced to apply for loans of money, I have generally been refused. If I had been willing to let
it be known that I was in need, I could probably
have found something to do that would have afforded us the means to obtain bread; but I was
ambitious to be thought independent.
One day I went to the printing-office and
printed a few hand-bills, announcing to the inhabitants of [blank] that Mr. Sol. Smith, from
the Philadelphia and Western theatres, would
give a concert of vocal music on [blank] evening,
to consist of a great variety of sentimental (!)
and comic songs, price of admission twenty-five
cents. With these bills, and a bundle containing some music-books, a pair of breeches, and a
red wig, I embarked on board a steam-boat for
Perth Amboy. I had previously borrowed a York
shilling of my grand-aunt-in-law to pay my passage. I arrived at Amboy in the evening, and
issued my bills for the next night. The people
did not know what to make of it. The next
night came, and seven people (men and boys)
came also. The room was lighted, the tickets
given at the door, and I began my songs. I never felt less disposed to sing-but I was in hopes
my receipts would at least pay the tavern bill.
It was a very cold night; and after I had sung
two or three songs, my auditors proposed I should




BORROWING MONEY OF AN AUCTIONEER.


37


come and sit with them by thefire, which invitation I accepted very willingly (as I saw there was
plenty of room), and finished my concert with
my heels cocked up over the fireplace! Next
morning I found my receipts would not satisfy
my landlord's bill, there being a deficiency of
more than a dollar. The landlord very generously offered to let me go to New York and borrow the money, loaning me a shilling to pay
my passage thither, provided I left my baggage
with him in pledge. As the steam boat passed I
got on board, and at five o'clock P.M. I was in
New York. I immediately went to Mr. William
Mathews, my wife's uncle, a rich grocer, and told
him my situation. He listened very attentively,
and seemed quite sorry for me, but made no offer. After waiting an hour or so, I "screwed
my courage to the sticking-place," and asked him
for a loan of five dollars. He humm'd and ha'd
a moment, and declined!
I was doomed to another disappointment.
There was an auctioneer in the city whom I will
call Wiggins. The year previously he had been
in Cincinnati, and many civilities had passed between us. He had been a contributor to my paper; we were on terms of familiarity, and he had
frequently said, if business ever called me to New
York, he hoped I would command his services.
On my arrival in the summer I called on him;
he appeared pleased to see me, inquired about
Cincinnati, and when he found I had abandoned
the "press," advised me to establish a paper in
New York, at the same time promising me his
custom and influence in the way of auction advertisements. While I was carrying on my little shop in Hudson Street he called on me twice,
and always expressed great anxiety for my welfare and prosperity. Was I wrong in thinking
this man would befriend me, so far as to give me
the use offive dollars for a month? After a severe struggle with my pride, I went into his auction-room; it was crowded with people, for he
had a night-sale. I could not get an opportunity to speak to him, so I wrote him a note, of
which the following is a copy:
" MR. WIGGINS: DEAR SIR,-I am in immediate want dffive dollars. Will you loan it to me?
"P.S.-I can not return it under a month.
"Yours,       SOL. SMITH.
"Tuesday evening."
In about an hour, seeing I did not leave the
room, he wrote the following answer:
"MR. SMITH, -Times are hard, and money
scarce. I find it difficult to carry on my business. However, if you will give me security, I will
oblige you with the loan you ask.
" Yours, etc.,  -  WIGGINS.
It was half past ten o'clock when I received


this answer. My first impulse was to tear it to
pieces, and throw the fragments into the writer's
face; but when I got into the cool air the question occurred to me, "Where shall I sleep tonight?" I reflected that I had already humbled
myself as much as possible, and that my only
chance was to comply with Wiggins's terms. I
walked (or rather ran) from the auction store,
which was in some street east of Broadway, to
the house of my friend, the owner of the telescope,
in Hudson Street, awakened him, wrote a note,
signed, and asked him to endorse it, which he
readily did. Hastening back to the auction
store, I was told Wiggins had retired. I persuaded the shop-boy to take him a letter, in
which I inclosed the indorsed note, naming the
address of the indorser, and in about an hour
after received a letter inclosing a five dollar bill,
with an apology for putting me to so much
trouble, but really times were so hard, and all
that, etc., etc. It may be wondered at that
while at the baker's (the owner of the telescope)
I did not ask him for the money. I can scarcely
tell why I did not give him the preference; probably I felt some little pride to show Wiggins
there was at least one man in the city who had
confidence in me. Perhaps I thought the worthy
baker was unable to spare the money; or, what
is more likely, I did not wish to let my destitute
situation be known to him, after meeting with
such rebuffs from two individuals; for I recollect
I trumped up a story to the telescope-man that
the note was for the accommodation of an acquaintance of mine, to whom I was willing to
loan the money, but had it not with me. Well,
I got the money, and went to the City Hotel and
slept. In the morning, after paying six shillings
for my lodging, I embarked on board a steamboat at six o'clock, touched at Perth Amboy,
paid my landlord his money, and returned to
New Brunswick.
I was very impatient for the time to arrive
when I should begin my task in the newspaper
office. It was a custom with me to pass a portion of my time in the editorial room, being fond
of reading the news. The carrier, or devil, as he
is technically termed, wished me to write a NewYear's address, offering me one half of the proceeds of sale. I declined, for the simple reason
that I had never perpetrated a rhyme in my life..When within about a week of the time my editorial services were to begin, I took it into my
head (not having the fear of failure before my
eyes) to give a vocal concert (a concert with one
performer!) at Elizabethtown. Having a few
of my bills left, off I went in a steam-boat, and,
arriving about noon, advertised my performance




38


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


for the same night. This concert was attended
by ive persons. I had here the advantage of a
piano, on which I accompanied myself in some
of my sentimental songs. Only imagine, my
Southern and Western friends, " Old Sol" singing sentimental songs!
Next morning, saying I had business in New
York city (and so I had!), I told my landlord I
would call on my return and settle my bill, at
the same time asking him to permit my trunk to
remain, with which request he very willingly complied. Arrived in the city, I went to a lotteryoffice with a quarter ticket I had purchased some
months previously, which I sold at a small discount, and in this way raised one dollar and fifty
cents. Hastening back to Elizabethtown, I discharged my bill, leaving myself not one cent with
which to pay my passage back to Brunswick. It
was no time for ceremony. I embarked on the
first boat, trusting to Providence for the means
of paying for the trip. Providence sent relief in
the shape of a very clever young man who had
formed a fifth part of my audience at the concert, and who was traveling for the purpose of
obtaining subscribers to some periodical. He
had seen some numbers of my Cincinnati paper,
and seemed anxious to cultivate an acquaintance
with me. While we were busy discussing some
literary subject, the bell rang as a signal that it
was time for the passenger-money to be paid. It
appeared to me that it was tolling rather than
ringing. I moved not, neither did my companion move. Pretty soon the clerk came bustling
along, taking the shillings. He approached us
-my literary friend handed him a quarter, and
his hand remained extended, waiting for the
change. Now was my time-life or death.
"Let him keep it," I stammered out; " I will
hand you the shilling."  " Certainly," said he,
and the thing was settled for the present, and we
continued the conversation as if there had been
no interruption. I presume but few of my readers can appreciate my feelings on this occasion;
I can only say, my face burned like a coal of fire,
and that it seems to me I would sooner submit
to being shot by a file of soldiers than go through
the same scene again. Yet there was nothing to
create such a feeling. Nothing is more common
(even among strangers) than making the very request I made; yet the fact of my having no cash
in my pocket made me feel like a criminal.
People may talk of the worthlessness of moneyof its being the "root of all evil," and all that
sort of thing; I say it is the talisman which
unlocks all hearts; the balsam that heals all
wounds; the creator of respect, esteem, friendship, love! Without it, a man is neglected, aban

doned, and scorned; with it, he springs into
rank, is courted, fawned upon, worshiped. Talk
of respect gained by a long course of good deeds,
and honest actions, and just deportment! Give
the veriest wretch MONEY enough, and he may
discard all the virtues, and yet retain the respect
and admiration of the world. Money worthless!
Nonsense. I have seen it unchain a criminal;
change the made-up opinion of juries; sway the
judge. The priest pretends to be laboring for
the good of the souls of his flock: he is not-he
is laboring for his fifteen hundred dollars a year.
The patriot blusters and storms at " the powers
that be" only to get the place of another, and
with it the salary. The player-but why particularize, where ALL are striving for money!
money!! money!!! We continued in conversation until the boat touched the wharf at Brunswick, and, just as I was leaving my fellow-traveler, I mentioned that I would call at his lodgings in the course of an hour or two and pay him
his shilling, for I happened just to discover that
I had no change about me (I never told a greater
truth). He gave me his address, and we parted;
he to get subscribers, and I to get the shilling.
Without seeing my wife, I went to the printingoffice and inquired for the devil. He made his
appearance, and I told him I was ready to come
to an arrangement with him; in other words, I
was willing to write his New-Year's Address, if
he still wished it. He was much surprised at my
changing my mind, but was delighted that I had
concluded to undertake it. "But stop, my lad
-what terms am I to write it on?" " Half the
proceeds," proposed the boy. " That won't do,"
said I. "What will you give me, cash down, for
the address, and you take all the risk and all the
profits?" "Why, I don't know-I generally get
five or six dollars, and sometimes eight." " Well,
I'll strike a bargain with you: give me three dollars, and I'll write your address." "Done!" said
the devil, and away he flew to borrow the money
of his brother-in-law. Being desperate, I went
to work at making rhymes. I happened to know
many local events which had latterly transpired,
and I bundled them all in, higgledy-piggledy;
touched off the presidential question; boarded
the steam-boat lines; dug into the oyster-planting scheme; suggested action for the Legislature,
and mixed up some few personal matters, which
altogether formed forty-two lines. The boy returned in twenty-five minutes.  "There are
your three dollars," said he, handing me the
money. "There's your address," replied I, giving him the scribbling. I need not tell the reader that the shilling was pretty soon paid to my
traveling companion. I then went home and re.



GRAND RECEIPTS AT A GRAND ORATORIO.


39


lated my mishaps to my wife, and she laughed
heartily at my manner of getting out of the difficulty, never having suspected me of possessing
the smallest spark of poetic genius.
The sequel to this little affair was highly gratifying to my feelings. New-Year's day arrived,
and the carrier came home in the evening, joy
beaming in his ruddy countenance, and told me
the address had produced a receipt of thirty-six
dollars-thirty more than he usually received on
similar occasions! The grateful boy insisted
that I should receive half, according to his first
offer; but I could see no justice in doing so, and
of course refused.
The boy's name was Melancthon Carman. If
he has not proved to be a good man, I was no
prophet in 1824.
By the time I had expended the three dollars,
I took possession of my new situation in the
printing-office, and was comparatively easy in
my circumstances. The first thing I did was to
send the five dollars to my generous.friend Wiggins, some days before it was due.
During my residence in New Brunswick I
had formed many acquaintances, particularly
with church-going'people. This arose from the
fact that I played the organ occasionally in the
Episcopal church. There was a singing-school
in the place, and, being invited by the teacher, I
attended one evening, when it was discovered
that I could read music! This was looked upon
as a wonderful accomplishment, and I was immediately offered a school, if I would take one.
I declined; but told the young gentleman who
applied to me (William Duryie) that if gentlewomen and gentlemen, to the number of twelve
of each, would form themselves into a class, I
would very cheerfully devote one evening in each
week to their instruction in the science of music,
confining their practice to anthems and set
pieces, and leaving the singing-master in undisputed possession of the psalm tunes and hymns.
This was joyfully acceded to, and the class formed, with the understanding that, in consideration
of my instructions, they were to sing for me one
night at a select oratorio. We accordingly had
meetings every Wednesday night, and my scholars were soon so far advanced in their musical
education that they were proud to invite their
friends to the meetings. It must be remembered that no one had any idea that I was connected with the stage. If they had known I was an
actor, my reception and treatment in New Brunswick would most likely have been widely different. My pupils improved apace, and I only
waited for my wife's recovery, after her confinement, to give my oratorio. I proposed to give


one third of the receipts to a charitable institution.
In the mean time politics raged high. The
President was to be elected by the House of Representatives, the electoral colleges having failed
to make a choice. The struggle was soon over
-HENRY CLAY decided the contest. He threw
his vote and powerful influence into Adams's
end of the scale, and Adams became the President. At this time began the great political
struggle which ended in the election of Andrew
Jackson BY THE PEOPLE in 1828.
But to leave politics, with which in these
pages I have nothing to do, let me return to my
winter quarters in New Jersey, where my twenty-four scholars have so far progressed as to be
nearly ready for the oratorio. In New York I
engaged a few musicians. Mrs. Smith recovered from her illness, and took her place as principal soprano; the oratorio was advertised and performed. The receipts, beyond all expenses, were
upward of one hundred dollars! What a windfall! Considering that the price of tickets was
only twenty-five cents each, the amount must be
considered very large. I inclosed a third of the
proceeds to the charitable institution named in
the bills, and the next day it was returned, with
a note of thanks from the gentlewoman who presided over it, saying that their funds were amply
sufficient for the purposes of the institution. I
paid off my debts in New Brunswick, and made
preparations to depart. Our intention was to
make our way to the Western country; but first,
being now in rather better trim than I had been
the fall before, I resolved on making another and
last " desperate offer" of my services to Mr. Simpson, of the Park Theatre.
Attiring myself in my best suit, I went to New
York, where I took cheap lodgings, and for three
several days pondered on the best mode to prefer
my request to the metropolitan manager. On
the fourth day, about eleven o'clock A.M., I
went boldly up to the box-office, where I found
Mr. Price. I asked for Mr. Simpson. (It is
probable, if Mr. Simpson had been there, I
should have asked for Mr. Price.) " He was on
the stage; had I any business?" "Yes; wished to see him particularly; would call again."
" Very well. " At two P. M. I saw Mr. Simpson go into the office, and, marching boldly up
the steps, I made known my wishes. Mr. Simpson smiled at my apparent confusion, and said
if I would call about four o'clock he would then
have leisure to talk with me. The time from
two to four was passed by me in the most feverish anxiety. Punctual to my appointment, I
called at the theatre, and was told that Mr.




40


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


Simpson was on the stage, and would be glad to
see me there. He received me kindly, but I
soon found that there was no hope for me. My
pretensions were of the most moderate kind. I
was willing, and told Mr. Simpson so, to engage
as chorus-singer at six dollars per week, and to
make myself "generally useful" on the stage.
He did not want chorus-singers then. After
much consideration and walking up and down,
he said all he could do for me was to give me a
chance in his company connected with the Circus, then performing in Philadelphia under the
management of Mr. Cowell. The chance was
this: his principal tragedian and melo-dramatic
performer had just left, or was about leaving,
and they were in want of a Timour! I could
have a trial in that part, and, if successful, would
be placed upon the salary list. I had just learned enough of my profession to be sure of my unfitness for tragedy, and declined the attempt as
hopeless. Mr. Simpson, who really seemed anxious to do something for me, finding I would not
answer his purpose, very kindly dismissed me,
proffering me the freedom of the house while I
remained in the city.
In 1835, while performing a starring engagement at the Park Theatre, I recalled this interview to the memory of Mr. Simpson. He laughed
heartily at the remembrance of my embarrassment, and good-naturedly said, " Well, Mr.
Smith, it is probably a lucky thing for you I declined your services; you have, doubtlessly, done
better." Well, I had.
CHAPTER III.
FINDING there was no hopes of an engagement in the metropolis, I applied for and obtained a situation in the company of Mr. H. A. Williams, then about to commence a circuit in the
western towns of New York. My salary was to
be eight dollars per week. I took leave of my
New Brunswick friends, who had been very kind
to me and mine, and proceeded to Albany, where
I joined my new manager. Our company performed three nights in Schenectady, and about
a fortnight in the town of Little Falls with tolerable success; after which we took up our summer quarters at Utica, where we converted a circus into a theatre. I soon became convinced that
my nine dollars a week (for my salary had been
raised to that sum) would not support my family, and the little fund, the proceeds of my winter's exertions, was fast melting away. In this
emergency my wife consented to go on the stage.
She made her first appearance as Norah in the


POOR SOLDIER. How far she succeeded as an
actress, and to what eminence she attained in
her profession, the Southern public can better
say than it becomes me to write; but this much
I will aver, being the best judge of the matterthere were two characters she sustained to admiration, those of a faithful WIFE and MOTHER.
From Utica we went to Saratoga Springs,
where we made a season of eight or ten weeks.
De Witt Clinton attended my benefit at this place.
It was here that I got even with my New York
friend Wiggins. He was at the Springs on a
visit, and had, in a gambling scrape, lost all his
money. He came to me, and asked me to loan
him a hundred dollars, which I did, borrowing
the money for the purpose, and taking his own
bill, without an endorser, for the amount. When
I handed him the money, he began- to express
his gratitude in very strong terms, but I cut himn
short. " Wiggins," said I, " being in great pecuniary distress, I once asked you to loan me
five dollars; you consented, on condition that
my bill for the amount should be indorsed by a
good man in the city.  You now happen to be
pushed, and ask a loan of me; there is the money; my obligation to you for the loan in New
York I consider canceled. Wiggins, I have
done with you." And so I had, for I have never
seen or heard of him since, though it is but an
act of justice to say that his bill was duly honored.
Learning, on our return to Utica, that the projected new theatre would not be ready for us in
less than two months, we visited some of the
small towns, Syracuse and Auburn among the
rest. At the latter place my wife and myself
withdrew from the company of Williams, and
proceeded to Rochester, where we had been invited by the manager. We performed during
the season, and had good benefits. At this place
I sung the "Hunters of Kentucky" forty-one
nights, and on the last nightforgot some of the
words, and was prompted from the boxes! We
next went into Upper Canada, where I took an
interest of one half in the management of a temporary theatre, and lost what little I had scraped
together during the summer. Our first essay in
his majesty's dominions was at Niagara, where
our performance was interrupted by a dozen welldressed fellows, who took a room immediately
adjoining ours, and amused themselves and annoyed us by roaring out "God save the King,"
"Rule Britannia," and other loyal tunes. All
this was done because they could not obtain admission to our performance at half price! We
sent a remonstrance, but our messenger was treated with insult, and they declared unequivocally




BATTLE OF NIAGARA-JOHN BULL ON OUR SIDE.


41


that their intention was to drive off the d-d
Yankee vagabond actors. We finished our play
and farce, and then proceeded to the bar-room
in a body, determined to " thrash them," for our
American blood was up. The party soon heard
of our intention, and, re-enforcing their number
with three or four boat hands-I will not call
them boat mnen-some half-breed Indians, and a
couple of negroes, they came upon us, armed with
clubs and bludgeons. Our little band met the
attack manfully; but it was a hard battle, and
was going against us, when a large, fat, red-faced
Englishman-he was an Englishman, the others were colonists-rushed in between the combatants, and, bellowing forth the word "Stop!"
all desisted for a moment. "What the h-ll is
all this rumpus about?" asked John Bull. "We
are going to whip the d-d Yankees," responded
twenty voices.  "Upon 'em, lads!" and they
were coming upon us like a hurricane, when John
again interposed his "Stop!" Another pause.
"You say you are going to whip the d-d Yankees"-here off went his coat-" and you are
twenty to twelve"-his handkerchief. " These
are Yankees, and you pretend to be Englishmen"
- waistcoat - " whoever heard of an Englishman taking odds against an enemy?   Stop!
hear me out; what, you are determined, are you?
Very well, boys, just as you please. I fought
against the Yankees during the war (d-n me
if I think any of you did!). I am a true Englishman; these Yankees are STRANGERS on our
shores, and therefore entitled to kindness and
protection.  You are twenty, without the niggers; they are twelve. Boys (addressing us),
do your best; I am on your side, and you are
now a 'baker's dozen!"' The parties met. The
Englishman dealt his blows right and left, and
fought like a hero, as he was; and the colonists,
sailors, lords, half-breeds, and negroes were
routed!
We took passage in a schooner for Little York
(now Toronto), where we made a most miserable
season. Our bills were printed by Mr. Mackenzie, afterward so notorious for the part he took
in the Canada rebellion.
In the hopes of bettering our business, and at
the urgent solicitation of my partner in the management, I consented to accompany him to the
governor's house to "request a bespeak." It
was very much against the grain, I assure you;
but I had been told a " bespeak" from "his excellency" would fill the theatre; and I felt it was
my duty, for the sake of the company, if not for
my own sake, to lay aside my republican pride
on the occasion. After we had cooled our heels
for the best part of two hours in an anteroom,


an adjutant, or major, or something appeared,
and wished to be favored with our business. I
told him we wished to see the governor on a
matter of importance. Receiving our names, he
left us waiting another half hour. At length we
were told the governor would see us, and we
were conducted into the great man's presence.
There were thirteen or fourteen people in the
room, all whispering in corners, and looking like
so many scared rabbits. My partner having
pushed me forward as the speaker, I began:
"Several citizens having suggested that you
would like to visit the theatre if a box were fitted up for your reception, we are come, Mr.
Maitland, to know when-" "You may save
yourself farther trouble, Mlister Smith," interrupted his excellency, "I do not wish to visit
your theatre; when I do, I will make my pleasure known; good-morning." "But, Mr. Maitland, I was told-"  " But, Mister Smith, I do
not wish to hear any more on the subject." And
he bowed us out of the room. " Confound your
republican notions!" whispered my partner, as
we sneaked along the hall to the street door,
"that cursed Mister of yours has ruined all!"
"Why, what ought I to have said?" I inquired.
"Your excellency, of course, or your lordship,
or your highness," replied he. "Well," I remarked, "this is the first time I ever invited
any of the nobility to visit the theatre, and, please
God, it shall be the last!" And it was.
The once celebrated Jack Dwyer was at this
place teaching elocution. One night he came to
the theatre in company with about thirty gentlemen of the place, who were, like himself, " full
of wine." We had dismissed our audience that
night (two men and a boy), but the jovial party
insisted we should light up and go through with
the performance, for which they would give us
thirty dollars. We consented, and played the
BROKEN SWORD, and some afterpiece. Having
no painter attached to the company, we were
at a loss how to make a bust of the murdered
Luneda. Several had tried their hands at it and
failed. As a last resort, I directed a Mr. Thomas
to whiten his jf'ce, wrap a sheet around him, and
stand up behind the pedestal. This answered
the purpose very well. He did move a little occasionally, it is true, but the auditors thought the
appearance of moving was caused by the wine
they had been drinking. Between the pieces
several tunes were called for-" God Save the
King," "Rule Britannia," " Auld Lang Syne,"
"Exile of Erin," "Hail Columbia," and " Yankee
Doodle." According to custom, the audience
stood uncovered while the British national tune
was being performed; and, from mere playful



42


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


ness, a Captain Matthews insisted that the same liquor, and that of the very best kind, so that,
ceremony should be observed while the orchestra before the actors could get through the scene,
were playing ".HailColumbia."  Some objected, they were too tipsy to proceed any farther, and
and several hats were knocked off; but I consid- generally broke up in a row. I learned these
ered it all a joke, and so, I believe, did all the particulars from one of the members, who came
persons concerned in it. I was not a little sur- to request we would perform that comedy, which
prised, two or three years afterward, to see in a we did, receiving three hearty cheers when we
London paper at least a dozen columns occupied got through the first act.
by an account of the trial of Captain Matthews  The company next proceeded to Rochester,
for his share in the frolic!               where we performed with indifferent success for
Our next town was Ancaster, at the head of a month, and then to Auburn. Here we opened
Lake Ontario. Here was a Thespian society, the theatre with DAMON AND PYTHIAS. I rewhich had been in existence about two years. member the opening play from this circumTwo hundred pounds had been subscribed by the stance: My partner, who was stage manager,
members for purchasing scenery, wardrobe, and came to me just before the time of beginning,
books. The association met one night in each and asked me to take a look at the supernumermonth for rehearsal, their first play intended for aries, and say how I liked their dresses. I looked,
performance being SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. and behold! he had twelve strapping fellows
They had met probably twenty times, and never drawn up for my inspection, dressed in Roman
had progressed in the rehearsal farther than the shirts, and with bare legs! Not having sandals
second scene in the comedy, for the following prepared, he permitted them to wear their own
reason: The landlord of the hotel where the coarse brogans, and as they stood ranged on the
/ l'l                           $i


I-                   i
SAUSAN     ENATOS AND 8LDIERB.
SYRAOUSAN SENATORS A~ND LSOLDIERS.


meetings were held was cast for the landlord in stage, stooping down to make the shirts reach
the play, and furnished the Thespians with real below the knee, their appearance was irresistibly




THE MURDEROUS ALLEGHANIANS.


43


ludicrous. Instead of the burst of admiration
Davis expected, I gave way to a fit of laughter,
assuring him it would not do to let them appear
before the audience in that plight. "Why not?"
argued the stage director; " no one can deny that
it is the correct costume; the fleshings which are
usually worn are intended to represent the bare
flesh, and here I have the real thing, natural as
life." I would not be convinced, and the curtain
could not be raised until the Syracusan senators
had time to make themselves fit to be seen in the
senate-chamber.
Leaving the company in charge of my partner, I returned to Rochester, and superintended
the fitting up of a new theatre next door to the
Mansion House, and near the canal. On my
way I was mistaken for General Jackson, and
treated with a great deal of attention by the passengers. In due time we opened our new establishment, and for a time succeeded tolerably
well; but, becoming dissatisfied with my partner, I withdrew, leaving him the whole concern.
I intended to set out immediately for the Western country, but my quondam manager, Williams, offering us excellent terms to remain a
few weeks with him in his new theatre, just about
opening, I entered into an engagement. I remember our bringing out the (then) new comedy
of SWEETHEARTS AND WIVES, in which I played
Billy Lackaday six successive nights, and for my
benefit on the seventh. Mr. Maywood performed an engagement with us this season-a very
successful one. It was here I first met Mr. John
Bates, afterward a millionaire, and proprietor of
a theatre in Cincinnati. He was barkeeper of
Williams's new Rochester theatre.
CHAPTER IV.
AT the close of my engagement I got together
a few people, and formed a small traveling company, intending to play our way to Cincinnati.
I shall not attempt to describe this truly strolling
expedition, but content myself with touching
lightly on a very few of the incidents attending
it. Our little party performed in Lockport,
Black Rock, Niagara Falls, Fredonia, Westfield,
Mayville, and Jamestown. Near the latter place
we breakfasted with a man who believed he
should live forever! He had been in the habit,
for several years, of making burnt-offerings of
cattle, sheep, fowls, dogs, and cats, and he told
me it was his intention, some day, to offer up one
of his children! He had only delayed making
this last sacrifice because the Almighty had not
yet told him which child would be the most ac

ceptable! So firm was the old man in the belief that he would never die, he gave one hundred
pounds (two hundred and fifty dollars) for the
insertion of a clause, in a deed of a farm which
he sold to a neighbor, entitling him (the longlived) to re-enter and take possession of the land
at the end of nine hundred and ninety-nine years,
provided he came personally to claim it! I have
not heard of this singular madman since. He
may be living, and likely to live, for aught I
know. If he can live forever, I am sure I have
no objection.
The murderous Alleghanians.
At Warren our little company embarked on
board two large skiffs, prepared for the purpose,
and floated down the beautiful Alleghany. Proceeding on our journey, the boat or skiff containing the young men of the company was considerably in advance of us, with the understanding
that if they came to a town worth "taking,"
they were to leave a flag flying on the bank of
the river as a signal that the town was taken, or,
in other words, that they had made arrangements
to perform there. Toward night, on the third
day, a storm threatened, and we saw no shelter
at hand. The night thickened upon us, the
lightning flashed, and the thunder muttered at a
distance, warning us to seek a shelter. There
were five of us in our little bark-Mr. and Mrs.
Francisco, Mrs. Smith, our child, and myself.
We held a consultation, and came to the conclusion we would run the boat ashore, strike a light,
and fortify ourselves as well as we could against
the storm and wild beasts. Just as we were
about heading for the shore, a light was discovered some distance below, which gave assurance
that a dwelling of some kind was near, and we
pulled for it with all our strength. When arrived opposite the light we hallooed, and after a
short pause received a "halloo" in answer. In
a moment more the boat touched the land, and
three stout, ugly-looking fellows welcomed us
ashore. We had heard of banditti infesting these
wilds, and appearances were not very favorable
to our hosts. They seemed, as we thought, rather too anxious to accommodate us, assuring us
that there was not another house short of fourteen miles! Mr. F. and myself, with our wives,
and little Frank (that was my son's name), proceeded to the cottage, a few rods up a steep bank
of the river, the three men carrying our trunks
on their shoulders. " The devil!" muttered one,
"they have a smart chance of plunder!" "Yes,"
replied another, "these boxes are confounded
heavy; wonder which of 'em's got the specie in




44


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


it?" In the cottage we found a female, who did
not seem at all pleased with our visit. While
we were seeing that our luggage was all safe, we
could hear the woman expostulating with her
husband, telling him they had no accommodations for travelers, no provisions in the house,
nor any place for them to sleep. "Oh, never
mind," answered the eldest of the three rob-the
three cottagers, who really appeared good-natured and accommodating, albeit he had a monstrous black look, his face seeming to have cut
all acquaintance with razors and soap-" we shall
get along well enough. Bring some more pine
knots, boys, and let's have a rousing fire." His
commands were almost instantly obeyed, and a
bright pine-knot fire imparted a cheerfulness to
the scene, which for the time banished all gloomy
apprehensions. Somehow or other, the women
had from the beginning taken the idea into their
heads that our entertainers were robbers-which
idea the reader will have entertained ere thisand, indeed, their rough and uncouth appearance
seemed fully to justify the supposition.
We seated ourselves by the fireside, and the
three men and the woman began to consult about
supper and lodging. We could catch a sentence
or two of their colloquy occasionally, which did
not serve to quiet the rising fears of the females
of our party. " What success had you this evening?" asked the younger boy. "None at all,"
answered the father: " havn't killed a living crittur to-night, though I've been watching ever since
dark. I came very near knocking over one fine
fellow, but he was alarmed at the hallooing of
these strangers, and made his escape before I
could get a crack at him."  "Thank heaven,"
whispered Mrs. F., " we have been the means of
saving a fellow-creature's life!" "How are we
to provide for these people?" asked the woman
of the house. "That will be easy enough,"
answered her husband, "if the men-folks will
consent to be separatedfrom their wives. Let
the two women and the child have your bed (for,
poor things, I pity them), and we will find a resting-place for-the men, never fear." "A restingplace!" groaned Mr. F.; " I dare say you will."
"Dick and Pete," continued the old man, addressing the boys-their consultation being ended-" take the. spade and that basket, and do as
I told you." The two sons obeyed, first supplying themselves with a torch of pine. The two
females, having by this time persuaded themselves we were all to be made mince-meat of, insisted that we should leave the house. In their
alarm they were heartily joined by Mr. F., who
could see nothing but " dagger, rope, and rats'bane" in the looks of our entertainers. He pro

posed to reconnoitre the proceedings of the
" boys," who had gone out, as he supposed, to
dig our graves.  Concealing himself behind a
sort of natural hedge, he had an opportunity of
seeing their operations and hearing their conversation, himself unobserved. They were turning
up the fresh earth, and their dialogue was as follows-we being, evidently, the subject of theidiscourse: " This will be quite a windfall for us;
these strangers seem to be rich, and will pay us
well for our trouble." " Yes; how cursed heavy
that black trunk of theirs is; they must be very
rich." " I am sorry we can't give 'em better fare
than what we are providing fobr them!" "Oh,
never mind the fare; their lodging will be rather
rough, to be sure, but they will be sound asleep
in a couple of hours, and to-morrow it will make
no difference to them what they sup on, or how
rough their lodging is to-night." " Sound asleep!"
thought poor F.; "no sound sleep for us this
night; we'll not go to bed and get our throats
cut!" By this time the boys had finished their
digging, and they prepared to return to the cottage. Francisco hastened back before them, and
related what he had overheard. We were watching the cottager and his wife, whose movements
appeared suspicious. The women renewed their
entreaties that we would leave the place at once,
and abandon our property to the brigands; but
before we could decide how to act, the cottagers
were heard returning. " There," said the elder
son, throwing down the spade, and handing a
basket to his mother, "that job's over; we've
finished our digging; if father's killed the crittur,
we shall soon be through our night's work." At
this moment the father appeared at the door,
with his hands and garments covered with blood,
a ghastly smile on his ugly countenance, and holding a bloody knife in his hand! "Here, boys,"
he bawled out, " I've cut his throat; come and
help me drag him up!" The sons went out to
assist the old cut-throat in his bloody business.
We presently heard them return, and saw through
the open door they were bearing a dead body!
The blood curdled in our veins as we sat staring
at each other, not knowing how to act. By this
time the woman had placed a large kettle on the
fire. The old man and his hopeful boys were
employed cutting up the dead body outside the
door, mingling with their occupation remarks like
the following: " What a pity to kill the poor fellow!" "people must eat;" "if travelers call at
our house, they must be provided for;" "it does
go against my grain to kill one so young!" * *
Notwithstanding the dangers that surrounded
us, I fell into a doze in the chimney-corner, and
visions of blood and murder passed rapidly before




A THEATRE IN THE WOODS.


45


my closed eyes. The two boys had me by the
throat; the old sinner of a landlord held a knife
at my breast, while he seized me by the hair;
the fatal knife was raised, and the blow about to
fall; suddenly I sprang from my seat, shook off
my intended murderers, and was preparing for a
desperate defense, when the old man exclaimed,
'Stranger, SUPPER'S READY." I rubbed my
eyes, and, staring about the room, saw our party
seated at the table, with every trace of fear banished from their countenances. " Come, stranger, take this cheer [chair] at the head of the
table, and help your people. You will find these
potatoes, which the boys have dug fbr you, first
rate. My wife has made a piece of the larab twe
killed into a stew. I should have given you
some venison, but your hallooing frightened off a
fine buck I was about getting a crack at. My
old woman here objects to my killing the young
mutton, but I was determined you should have
the best we could get you. So come; sit up, and
eat hearty." It is unnecessary to say we did
full justice to our good cheer. After an excellent night's rest, we paid our bill, which was quite
reasonable, and floated on our way.
A Theatre in the Woods.
I have said the young men of the company
who preceded us in our downward course were
to display a flag as a signal to us whenever they
had " taken a town." One day we discovered a
white handkerchief flying at the end of a pole
on the river-bank, where there was not a house
(much less a town) to be seen. We obeyed the
signal and pulled to the shore; but there was
nobody to meet us. After waiting half an hour,
and concluding we were hoaxed, it was agreed
we should pursue our way down the river. We
had not proceeded more than twenty rods when
we saw the boat of our companions lying high
and dry upon the shore. This convinced us that
the party was not far off, and we accordingly
made another halt. Before we reached the land
we were hailed from the top of a high bluff"Halloo! the boat! Pull ashore; this is the
town you are to stop at; your actors are up at
my house waiting for you!" The person who
spoke soon came down to us, and, sure enough,
we found we were advertised to perform that
same night at Lewiston. "Yes," continued the
man, whose name was Cartwright, " it's all fixed-look at the bills posted on the trees-you'll
have a good house; the citizens are delighted
with your visit." He had a conveyance (a onehorse wagon) for the women and child, and Francisco and myself walked up the hill in search of


the town of Lewiston. But no town could we see.
" Oh, you are looking for the houses! Bless ye,
they are not built yet; but we shall have some
splendid buildings shortly. Here is Broadway;
Wall Street runs down in this direction; and do
you see the blazed tree yonder? there's to be
our court-house; and a little beyond, the jail.
Oh, Lewiston is destined to be a place." Thus
spoke our guide and landlord as he drove his
little wagon through the but partially cleared
paths toward his house. We arrived at length,
and found our party very comfortably situated
in a double log cabin, which was literally covered with playbills, which playbills most respectfully announced to the inhabitants of Lewiston
and vicinity that Mr. Sol. Smith and his dramatic company would perform on such an evening the comic opera of the PooR SOLDIER,
with the afterpiece of LOVERS' QUARRELS. I
scarcely knew what to think of the whole proceeding. An audience seemed to me out of the
question. Where they were to come from I
could not imagine. " Come up and look at ttle
theatre," invitingly spoke the landlord, when he
had introduced our wives to his wife. I followed him up stairs. "You see we have fitted up
this room pretty neatly," said he-and so they
had. The room was twelve by sixteen, and the
scenery and curtain were rigged up in one end
of it-while three large benches represented the
boxes and pit. Whether it was all a joke, or
whether the man was mad, I did not stop to inquire, for dinner was announced, and there was
"no mistake" in that; it was a first-rate one.
We found that our landlord was a New Yorker,
just settled in thl new town of Lewiston, which
he imagined would soon rise into a place of great
consequence, and become the emporium of Lewis
County. Being passionately fond of theatricals,
and accidentally falling in with our pioneers the
day before, ten miles above the town, he had persuaded them to stop and give an entertainment.
Dinner over, we soon found it was really expected we should play; for the audience began to
assemble from every direction-the men and
women all coming on horseback. An unexpected difficulty now presented itself-there was not
a candle in the town-that is, in the house!
What was to be done? Night was coming on;
we could not act in the dark, that was certain.
The landlord hit upon an expedient at last. He
tore up some linen, of which he made wicks, and,
rolling them in tallow, soon made six decent
candles. He thereupon took half a dozen large
potatoes, and, boring holes in them, converted
them into candlesticks, placing them on the floor
in front of the curtain forfoot-lights! He next




46


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


called his neighbors up to the bar by proclama- wright's time, nor in mine. The charge for dintion, and told them the box-office was open. In ner, supper, lodging, breakfast, and the theatre
ten minutes they were all supplied with tickets (including the lighting of the same) was a mere
(mostly on a credit), and he proceeded to open trifle, and we parted from our host with regret.
the doors-acting himself as door-keeper-in- He was a perfect original. "Farewell, Mr.
forming all who entered that checks were not Manager," said he; " hope you have been
transferable, and no smoking was allowed in any pleased with our town, and will visit Lewiston
part of the theatre-" and, gentlemen, no admis- again next season, when I hope to have the new
sion behind the scenes under any pretense what- theatre finished for you."
ever!" When our audience was seated, he announced the fact to us, and admonished us that the  We were persuaded to stop and perform for
curtain was advertised to rise at "eight o'clock "one night only" at a village called Freeport.
precisely."  In our narrow quarters, a change If one good or honest man resided there, I had
of dress, after we once entered the theatre, was not the pleasure of seeing him or hearing of him.
not to be thought of-there was no getting to A cabal was formed against us on account of
the dressing-rooms without passing among the the high price of admission, and the out-door
auditors-there being but one door to the room. audience, by far the more numerous, made up
So Norah and Leonora, being played by the same their minds to use the window for an entrance
person, wore the same dress; and so with the instead of the door. They procured a ladder,
other characters - Patrick and Carlos, Darby and one strapping fellow, mounting on it, made
and Sancho, Father Luke and Lopez, Kathleen his appearance at the window just as I was singand Jacinta, etc. Mr. Cartwright was enthusi- ing "Good-morning to your nightcap"-my first
astic in his applause, declaring to his friends and song in the POOR SOLDIER. I made a sudden
neighbors that the performances were nearly spring to the window, and, seizing the interloper
equal to those at the Park-only in the latter by the hair of his head, dragged him across the
establishment, he was free to admit, the scenery room in front of the audience, out at the door,
and decorations were a shade better than those and tumbled him down stairs in a much shorter
of the Lewiston theatre. The benches being all time than I have occupied in writing an account
occupied, he squatted himself down by the po- of the proceeding.' The turned-out man crawltato foot-lights, and, at intervals, amused him- ed away to his fellows, and I concluded my song
self by snuffing the candles. At length, one by as though nothing had happened.
one, the lights began to give out, and we were in  I expected an attack when the performance
danger of being left in total darkness! Observ- was concluded, but was agreeably disappointeding the state of affairs, I thought it time. to the mob had dispersed.
bring the farce to a close, which I did by cut-  At Franklin and Kittaning we performed short
ting LovERs'QUARRELS rather fhort, reconciling periods, and in due time arrived at Pittsburg.
the parties in the middle of the piece, and speak- What actor, who has visited this city, will ever
ing the "tag."  Down came the curtain, and forget it?
out went the last candle! The potatoes were   I sought my friend Butler, but he had removed
all tenantless; so was the room in a few min- from the place. I had no other friend to inquire
utes, the auditors making their way down stairs for, and was about pushing off my little skiff,
the best way they could, highly delighted with when I was seized by my old and indefatigable
their entertainment. Mr. Cartwright and his tormentors, the constables. The constables of
worthy wife soon raised a sort of lamp, con- Pittsburg never forget an old friend. When I
structed out of a piece of twisted linen and some left the place a little more than two years behog's lard in a saucer, and after listening to our fore, I had surrendered all the personal property
landlord's critical remarks on the whole perform- I then possessed to one James Mackey, to be
ance, and discussing an excellent supper, we re- sold on an execution he held against me. Findtired for the night.                       ing some very good beds, curtains, watches, and
Next morning, while breakfast was preparing, other desirable articles in the lot, he thought
Mr. C. took me about the town, pointing out the proper to appropriate them to his own use indifferent embryo streets and the sites for the pub- stead of offering them  at vendue, and I now
lie buildings-a theatre among the rest. His found myself in custody for the very debt the
nearest neighbor resided at the distance of three proceeds of those articles were intended to pay.
miles, but he was sanguine in his expectations To be brief, I gave him all the money I had
that Lewiston would in time be a great town. scraped together in my trip down the Alleghany,
Well, it may, "in time;" but, I fear, not in Cart- except ten dollars, and then the sum fell short




A STROLLING COMPANY IN KENTUCKY.


47


about twelve dollars, for which he very kindly
consented to receive two watches worth sixty.
Heartily disgusted with a place where I had met
with nothing but ill luck, I disbanded my little
company, gave them letters of recommendation
to the manager who was to open the Pittsburg
theatre in a few days, and embarked with my
wife and child on board my covered skiff. I
never ceased to " tug at the oars" until Pittsburg, with its smoke, was lost in the distance:
then I was happy!
"Is he a chaste actor?" inquired a manager
who wished to ascertain the professional qualifications of an applicant. " I can not say, exactly," was the reply. "When he performed in
Pittsburg he was a chased actor."
I shall not attempt to describe the tedious
journey of five hundred and twenty-six miles,
performed in the heat of summer, on the Ohio
River. It is enough for the reader to know we
got through it at last. The water was too low
for steam-boats. We st ped at Marietta, where
we were treated with the greatest attention by
the Hall family. We gave an entertainment at
Wellsborough, and our receipts were eleven dollars! At Galiopolis we intended to give a concert, but the people all mistook me for a preacher, and treated me as such. At bedtime we
were shown into the best room. A Bible, prayer and- hymn books were placed on the table;
candles snuffed with. great care; a deep sigh
breathed by the landlady; in short, every thing
indicated that I was mistaken for one of those
godly individuals who perambulate the country
converting sinners, and eating the best the land
affords. I thought it a pity to undeceive our entertainers. If they chose to deceive themselves,
why should I say any thing that would take away
from their -satisfaction? In the morning I offered to pay my bill, but not a cent would the
landlord receive. So we departed without saying a word about the concert.
Early in October, 1826, we arrived at Cincinnati, having been absent about two years and a
half-without a dollar in my pocket.
CHAPTER V.
MR. DRAKE'S company, which we now joined,
consisted of Messrs. Drake, Sr., A. Drake, Henderson, Sol. Smith, L. Smith, Kelsey, Greene,
Grover, and Carter; Mesdames Drake, Fosdick,
S. Smith, L. Smith, Carter, and S. Drake. Business falling off, the manager proposed to place
the company on a sharing system, with the understanding that if the receipts each week should


fall short of the expenses, we should share; but
if they should amount to more, we should receive
our salaries only. Not perceiving the entire justice of this arrangement, it being somewhat on
the jug-handle principle, all on one side, Kelsey,
my brother, and myself, joined by Henry R.
Crampton and family, leased the Frankfort Theatre of Mr. Drake, and opened it for a short season. It failed; and, disbanding the company,
with the exception of a small traveling party
(consisting of self, L. Smith, Greene, Winship,
Matthews, and Woodruff; Mesdames S. Smith,
L. Smith, and Greene), we proceeded to Georgetown, where we played three or four nights.
Poor little Greene! What a figure he cut! He
fancied himself a great tragedian, and was the
most comic-looking genius I ever beheld. He
made his first appearance as Prince Rodolph, in
the BLIND BOY, and wore a dress, the trunks of
which reached to his feet. The dress was made
for my brother, who was full six feet high, and
little Greene was not more than four! I laughed till I cried, and the audience seemed equally
delighted.
We next proceeded to Paris, and opened with
the HONEY MOON. I observed that a countryman entered the theatre before the candles were
lit, and seated himself on the centre of the front
bench; presently, as the audience began to congregate, he became surrounded by females, who
seated themselves each side of and behind him.
He did not turn his eyes to the right nor to the
left, but kept them fixed on the performers.
When I came on as the SMock Duke, I observed
him sitting in the manner described, with his
face leaning on both his hands. As I seated
myself to hear the complaint of Juliana against
her husband, he and I were not more than six
feet apart, facing each other. He leaned farthqr
forward than usual, straining his eyes to take a
still closer view of my features. At this juncture
I could not resist the temptation to give my admiring friend a quiet wink, when he jumped up,
and, striking his hands together with great force,
exclaimed aloud, "I'll be d-d if it's wax!"
The uproar this occasioned among the audience
caused the gentleman to look round; he seemed
to be sensible, for the first time, where he was;
his ludicrous appearance on making this discovery caused a still louder laugh, which presently
increased into a real Kentucky yell; and the uproar did not subside until the cause of all this
mirth had made a retreat.
While performing the same play in Port Gibson in 1829, when the Duke, in answer to a
knock at the door, bids his wife to " see who it
is that knocks," a gentleman, who happened to




48


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


be standing near the stage-door, very composedly opened it, and, peeping out, turned to the
Duke and answered, "It is nobody but one of
the actors-Mr. Tatem, I believe." In Nicolesville, a few weeks afterward, we were performing
the farce of LOVERS' QUARRELS. The theatre
was in the ballroom, and the landlord was in the
habit of going behind the scenes to witness the
performance. On account of his belonging to
the Church, he did not wish to be seen in front.
In the first scene, when Carlos was making a
present of his watch, purse, etc., to Jacinta for
her good news, I (as Sancho) advised him to save
something with which to pay his board. At this
moment our religious landlord popped his head
on the stage and said, " Mr. Smith, don't mind
your board; go on with your play just as you
would; if you haven't the money at the end of
the week, I'll wait." He was honored with a
thundering round of applause as he backed out,
bowing.
After playing at Paris a week, we bent our
course toward Maysville. The roads at that
time were intolerable, and almost impassable.
My brother and myself were crossing a field (to
avoid the mud), when we met a beggar who demanded alms. We concluded to give him a dollar, and accordingly handed him a dollar note on
the Commonwealth Bank, and were passing on,
when he called on us to stop a moment. He put
on a dirty pair of spectacles, and, holding up the
bill to the light, examined it a moment; then
holding it toward me, said, "We don't take that
'ere money except at a discount." Admiring
the fellow's impudence, I asked him at what rate
he took Commonwealth paper? He replied, " It
is not worth more nor seventy-five cents on the
dollar. I've lost a great deal on that kind of
money, and don't like to take it, no how; but if
you have no other, I won't be difficult with you;
I'll take it at twenty-five discount." For the
joke of the thing, we actually gave the fellow a
silver quarter to make good the depreciated
paper!
At Maysville we performed a week to good
houses, and then disbanded and retired to summer quarters at Cincinnati.
Near the close of the summer (1827) we reorganized, and perambulated the different villages
in Kentucky. Mr. Crampton joined us at Lexington, where we acted about three weeks, and
had during the whole time but one good house,
and that was when Henry Clay attended the
theatre. On this occasion we borrowed portraits


of President Adams and Mr. Clay, and hung
them up over ~he stage. I recollect a curious
item in the property man's bill; it was as follows:
" For rope to HANG Adams and Clay, thirtyone cents."
From Lexington we proceeded to Harrodsburg Springs, where our business again failed.
We made a precipitate retreat, leaving Crampton (whom we considered a sort of theatrical
Jonah), and performed in Nicolesville one week.
We played one week at Versailles, where we vis'
ited poor Collins's widow, daughter, and GRAVE,
and then raised our standard at Georgetown; but
the Methodists had raised their banner before us,
and had got possession of all the money and all
the hearts of the young folk. They fairly conquered us, and drove us from the field! I here
received a visit from my old fellow-apprentice,
Bradford, who ran away with me from Vincennes. He had received a military education and
a commission at West Point, and had just been
detailed for active service.
At Shelbyville we closed the campaign, having
determined to accept an offer from Mr. James
H. Caldwell, and join his company at Nashville.
We proceeded thither, and arrived just as the
season had commenced. The theatre opened
that fall with TOWN AND COUNTRY-Mr. Caldwell acting Reuben Glenroy, which character I
have never seen better played than he played it.
My wife made her first appearance as Diana Vernon, and I mine in Billy Lackaday. CHERRY
AND FAIR STAR was brought out with great
splendor: Cherry, Mrs. Hartwig; Fair Star,
Mrs. Rowe.
On the occasion of General Jackson's visiting
the theatre, an original song was assigned me to
sing. It was a political affair, contained sixteen
verses, and the tune was " Gee-ho-Dobbin!"
Toward the close of the season, a branch of
the company, consisting of eight men and five
women, was sent out to Russellville, Hopkinsville, and Clarksville under my management.
While performing the STRANGER at Clarksville,
one of our auditors became so interested in the
last scene that he got up and addressed my
brother as follows: "Come, Smith, look over
what's past and take back your wife, for I'll be
d-d if you'll get such another in a hurry!"
At the close of the Nashville season we were
taken up by Mr. Caldwell in the steam-boat
Friendship, and away we went down to New
Orleans.




ACT SECOND.
1827-1835.


CHAPTER I.
THE English Drama was introduced into the
city of New Orleans in December, 1817, by a
commonwealth company.
The performances took place in the St. Philippe Theatre, afterward the Washington Ballroom. In 1818 Mr. Aaron Phillips took a company tod New Orleans, and performed in the
French Theatre, Orleans Street. Mr. James H.
Caldwell came the same year with a company
from Virginia, and occupied the St. Philippe
Theatre, afterward removing to the French Theatre, which he occupied three evenings of each
week, alternating with the French company-a
compromise having been effected with Mr. Phillips, who, with the principal members of his company, enlisted under Mr. Caldwell's banner. The
then great tragedian, Cooper, performed an engagement this season, receiving, as I have been
informed, $333 per night!
The foundation of the American Theatre,
Camp Street (now the Armory Hall), was laid
in 1821, and it was opened in an unfinished condition. In 1824 it was finished and regularly
opened, with a company competent to give proper effect to the regular drama. The season was
a profitable one to the manager, and satisfactory
to the public.
In 1825-6 the theatre again enjoyed a prosperous season. My youngest brother, Lemuel,
was a member of the company. Mr. Edwin Forrest was engaged (then but nineteen years of
age), and opened in Jaffier (VENICE PRESERVED).
The season of 1826-7 I know nothing about,
but have no doubt it was as successful as the
preceding.
In the summer of 1827 Mr. Caldwell proceeded
with his company to St. Louis, Mo., where he
converted a salt-house on Second Street into a
theatre, and performed with considerable success
for about three months, proceeding from thence
to Nashville, Tenn., where I joined him, as heretofore related.
I now proceed with my personal narrative, beginning with the opening of the American TheD


atre, Camp Street, in the fall of 1827. I am
enabled to give a list of the New Orleans company of this season:
Messrs. J. H. Caldwell, Anderson, Jackson,
Sol. Smith, Lem. Smith, Sam. Jones, R. Russell,
Gray, Lear, Hartwig, Lowery, Higgins, Cambridge, Palmer, Crampton, McCafferty; Mesdames Hartwig, Russell, Rowe, Bloxton, Johns,
S. Smith, L. Smith, Jackson, Higgins, Crampton, and Miss Russell (now Mrs. Farren).
Out of those twenty-seven members three only
remain-all but Mrs. Russell, Mrs. Farren, and
myself having taken their departure to
"The undiscovered country, from whose bourn
No traveler returns."
On the second night of the season, Mrs. Smith
and myself made our first appearance in New
Orleans-she as Diana Vernon in ROB RoY, and
I as the sentimental Billy Lackaday, in the comedy of SWEETHEARTS AND WIVES.- With the
exception of the character of Delph, in the farce
of FAMILY JARS, which I performed a great
number of nights during the season, and the
part of Carlitz, in a new one-act drama entitled
LOVE IN HUMBLE LIFE, I had very little to do
calculated to give me a position as an actor; yet
I was kept busy enough, always being required
to walk in processions, sing in choruses, and
shout in armies, besides fighting in all general
battles.
During this winter (1827-8) Mr. Booth came
to perform an engagement, and was highly successful. I should say these were his best days.
It was my luck to " support" him as the Physician in KING LEAR, the Lord Mayor in RICHARD THE THIRD, and one of the Citizens in each
of the Roman pieces. After his engagement at
our theatre was finished, he performed Orestes
twice in the French Theatre to crowded houses
and the great delight of the French population.
The season being over, the company received
orders to proceed at once to Natchez, then full
300 miles distant-now, by reason of a "cut off,"
shortened to 275 miles-from New Orleans. We
took passage on the splendid steamer Caravan.




50


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


Slow traveling by Steam.
Does any one remember the Caravan? She
was what would now'be considered a slow boat;
then she was regularly advertised as the "fastrunning," etc. Her regular trips from New Orleans to Natchez were usually made in from six
to eight days; a trip made by her in five days
was considered remarkable. A voyage from
New Orleans to Vicksburg and back, including
stoppages, generally entitled the officers and crew
to a month's wages. Whether the Caravan ever
achieved the feat of a voyage to the Falls (Louisville) I have never learned; if she did, she must
have " had a time of it!"
It was my fate to take passage in this boat.
The captain was a good-natured, easy-going
man, careful of the comfort of his passengers,
and exceedingly fond of the game of brag.
We had been out a little more than five days,
and were in hopes of seeing the bluffs of Natchez
on the next day. Our wood was getting low,
and night coming on. The pilot on duty above
(the other pilot held three aces at the time, and
was just calling out the captain, who "went it
strong" on three kings) sent down word that the
mate had reported the stock of wood reduced to
half a cord. The worthy captain excused himself to the pilot whose watch was below and the
two passengers who made up the party, and hurried to the deck, where he soon discovered by
the landmarks that we were about half a mile
from a wood-yard, which, he said, was situated
" right round yonder point." "But," muttered
the captain, "I don't much like to take wood of
the yellow-faced old scoundrel who owns it; he
always charges a quarter of a dollar more than
any one else; however, there's no other chance."
The boat was pushed to her utmost, and in little


" The d-1!" replied the captain (captains did
swear a little in those days). "What's the odd
quarter for, I should like to know? You only
charged me three as I went down."
"Why, capting," drawled out the wood nierchant, with a sort of leer on his yellow countenance, which clearly indicated that his wood was
as good as sold, ': wood's riz since you went down
two weeks ago; besides, you are awar' that you
very seldom stop going down; when you re going
up you're sometimes obleeged to give me a call,
becaze the current's against you, and there's no
other wood-yard for nine miles ahead; and if
you happen to be nearly out of fooel, why-"
"Well, well," interrupted the captain, "we'll
take a few cords under the circumstances," and
he returned to his game of brag.
In about half an hour we felt the Caravan
commence paddling again. Supper was over,
and I retired to my upper berth, situated alongside and overlooking the brag table, where the
captain was deeply engaged, having now the other
pilot as his principal opponent. We jogged on
quietly, and seemed to be going at a good rate.
"How does that wood burn?" inquired the
captain of the mate, who was looking on at the
game.
"'Tisn't of much account, I reckon," answered the mate; "it's cottonwood, and most of it
green at that."
"Well, Thompson-(three aces again, stranger-I'll take that X and the small change, if
you please-it's your deal)-Thompson, I say,
we'd better take three or four cords at the next
wood-yard; it can't be more than six miles from
here-(two aces and a bragger, with the age!
hand over those V's").
The game went on and the paddles kept mcving. At eleven o'clock it was reported to the


less than an hour, when our fuel was about giv- captain that we were nearing the wood-yard, the
ing out, we made the point, and our cables were light being distinctly seen by the pilot on duty.
out and fastened to trees alongside of a good-  "Head her in shore, then, and take in six
sized wood-pile.                          cords, if it's good. See to it, Thompson; I can't
"Halloo, colonel! how do you sell your wood very well leave the game now-it's getting right
this time?"                              warm. This pilot's beating us all to smash."
A yellow-faced old countryman, with a two-  The wooding completed, we paddled on again.
weeks' beard, strings over his shoulders holding The captain seemed somewhat vexed when the
up to his armpits a pair of copperas-colored lin- mate informed him that the price was the same
sey-woolsey pants, the legs of which reached a as at the last wood-yard-three and a quarter,
very little below the knee, shoes without stock- but soon again became interested in the game.
ings, a faded broad-brimmed hat which had once  From my upper berth (there were no statebeen black, and a pipe in his mouth, casting a rooms then) I could observe the movements of
glance at the empty guards of our boat, and ut- the players. All the contention appeared to be
tering a grunt as he rose from fastening our between the captain and the pilots (the latter
"spring-line," answered,                  personages took it turn and turn about, steering
"Why, capting, we must charge you three and and playing brag), one of them almost invariably
a quarter THIS time."                     winning, while the two passengers merely went




PLAYING BRAG ON THE MISSISSIPPI.


51


through the ceremony of dealing, cutting, and
paying up their " anties." They were anxious
to learn the game-and they did learn it! Once
in a while, indeed, seeing they had two aces and
a bragger, they would venture a bet of five or ten
dollars, but they were always compelled to back
out before the tremendous bragging of the captain or pilot; or, if they did venture to "call
out" on "two bullits and a bragger," they had
the mortification to find one of the officers had
the same kind of a hand, and was more venerable! Still, with all these disadvantages, they continued playing-they wanted to learn the game.
At two o'clock the captain asked the mate
how we were getting on.
"Oh, pretty glibly, sir," replied the mate.
"We can scarcely tell what headway we are
making, for we are obliged to keep the middle
of the river, and there is the shadow of a fog rising. This wood seems rather better than that
we took in at old Yellow Face's, but we're nearly
out again, and must be looking out for more. I
saw a light just ahead on the right-shall we
hail?"
"Yes, yes," replied the captain: " ring the bell,
and ask 'em what's the price of wood up here.
I've got you again-here's double kings."
I heard the bell and the pilot's hail: " What's
your price for wood?"
A youthful voice on the shore answered,
"Three and a quarter!"
"D-n it!" ejaculated the captain, who had
just lost the price of two cords to the pilot-the
strangers suffering some at the same time" three and a quarter again! Are we never to
get to a cheaper country? Deal, sir, if you
please-better luck next time." The other pilot's voice was again heard on deck" How much have you?"
" Only about ten cords, sir," was the reply of
the youthful salesman.
The captain here told Thompson to take six
cords, which would last till daylight, and again
turned his attention to the game.
The pilots here changed places. When did
they sleep f
Wood taken in, the Caravan again took her
place in the middle of the stream, paddling on
as usual.
Day at length dawned. The brag party broke
up, and settlements were being made, during
which operation the captain's bragging propensities were exercised in cracking up the speed of
his boat, which, by his reckoning, must have
made at least sixty miles, and would have made
many more if he could have procured good
wood. It appeared the two passengers, in their


first lesson, had incidentally lost one hundred and
twenty dollars. The captain, as he rose to see
about taking in some good wood, which he felt
sure of obtaining, now he had got above the level
country, winked at his opponent, the pilot, with
whom he had been on very bad terms during the
progress of the game, and said, in an under tone,
"Forty apiece for you, and I, and Jemes (the
other pilot) is not bad for one night."
I had risen, and went out with the captain to
enjoy a view of the bluffs. There was just fog
enough to prevent the vision taking in more than
sixty yards, so I was disappointed in mny expectation. We were nearing the shore for the purpose of looking for wood, the banks being invisible from the middle of the river.
" There it is!" exclaimed the captain: " stop
her!" Ding, ding, ding! went the big bell, and
the captain hailed:
"Halloo! the wood-yard!"
"Halloo yourself!" answered a squeaking female voice, which came from a woman with a
petticoat over her shoulders in place of a shawl.
"What's the price of wood?"
"I think you ought to know the price by this
time," answered the old lady in the petticoat" it's three and a qua-a-rter! and now you know
it."
"Three and the d —l!" broke in the captain:
"what! have you raised on your wood too? I'll
give you three, and not a cent more."
"Well," replied the petticoat, "here comes
the old man; he'll talk to you!" And, sure
enough, out crept from the cottage the veritable
faded hat, copperas-colored pants, yellow countenance, and two weeks' beard we had seen the
night before, and the same voice we had heard
regulating the price of cottonwood, squeaked out
the following sentence, accompanied by the same
leer of the same yellow countenance:
" Why, darn it all, capting, there is but three
or four cords left, and since it's you, I don't care
if I do let you have it for THREE-as you're a
good customer!"
After a quick glance at the landmarks around,
the captain bolted, and turned in to take some
rest.
The fact became apparent-the reader will
probably have discovered it some time sincethat WE HAD BEEN WOODING ALL NIGHT AT THE
SAME WOOD-YARD!
CHAPTER II.
THE Natchez Theatre was opened under Mr.
Caldwell's management in the spring of 1828.r




52


AUTOBIOGRAPIHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


with scenery and company brought from the
"American," in New Orleans. Here it was the
cognomen of " Old Sol" began to attach itself to
me, in consequence of my being frequently called
upon to perform the characters usually personated by " Old Gray," who was generally indisposed about these days. I was then twentyseven years of age.
The new theatre in Natchez was situated at
the extreme end of the main street, and in a
grave-yard. Two hundred yards of the street
leading to it had been cut through this "last receptacle of humanity," and every day, in going
to rehearsal, our sights were regaled with the
view of leg-bones sticking horizontally out of the
earth ten or twelve feet above us, the clay having
gradually washed away and left them thus exposed.
The dressing-rooms for the gentlemen were
under the stage, the earth having been excavated
to make room for them. Human bones were
strewn about in every direction. The first night,
the lamplighter being a little "pushed" for time
to get all ready, seized upon a SKULL, and, sticking two tallow candles in the eye-sockets, I found
my dressing-room thus lighted.
In digging the grave of Hamlet, I experienced
no difficulty in finding bones and skulls to "play
at loggats with."
A young man, named M'Cafferty, was a member of the company, combining the duties of
scenic artist and second low comedian. Being
very drunk one night, he wandered forth among
the tombs, and, after diligent search for him
next morning, he was found quietly reposing in
a ruined vault, where he had passed the night!
Poor M'Cafferty! A few years afterward a Mr.
Gamble and himself took a bottle of whisky to
bed with them one night, and they were found
dead the next morning!
A watch was stolen from my dressing-room in
the theatre, and a negro boy was taken before
Justice Tooley on a charge of having committed
the larceny. Being sworn, I began to give in
my testimony, to the effect that on the previous
night, while I was officiating as High Priest of
the Sun"How's this? how's this?" interrupted the
magistrate-"High Priest of the Sun? Pray
where did all this happen?"
"At the theatre, sir. I was officiating as
High Priest, and-"
"At the THEATRE!" screamed the justice;
"served you right, then-served you right!
Boy, you may go; I dismiss the case."
The individual charged with this theft was no
less a personage than a negro boy named Carey,


who afterward became somewnat notorious as an
Indian chief under the name of Oakah Tubbee.
Nearly twenty years afterward this individual
came to St. Louis, where he achieved considerable popularity as a serenading flute-player.
Mr. Bailey, our treasurer, on the occasion of his
benefit, wished Carey to play a tune between the
play and afterpiece, but it did not seem exactly
proper for a negro to appear on the stage. Being a bright mulatto, it was thought he might be
passed off "for one night only" as an Indian.
When the bill was being made out, Bailey came
up into the director's room to ask me what name
we should give our newly-created Indian.
" Name? Ah! yes, he must have a name," I
replied; and, casting a look through the window
over to the " Cross Keys," a large oak tub under
a spout caught my eye. " Tlere is an oak tub;
let the Indian's name be Oakah Tubbee;" and
Oakah Tubbee it has been ever since.
He soon went up into the Indian country,
where, passing himself off as a Choctaw chief,
he married a very likely squaw, and commenced
traveling and giving concerts! I am sorry to
hear lately that Tubbee has deserted his Indian
wife and taken a white squaw, who fell in love
with him at Niagara Falls. I suspect Tubbee is
considerable of a rascal, though he was probably
innocent of the larceny charged on him in Natchez.
Mr. and Mrs. Russell, at the close of the season here, proceeded to Boston, where Mr. Russell
had received the appointment of acting manager
of the Tremont Theatre.
The season, though short, was moderately profitable to the management, and nearly all the performers had good benefits.
Our next movement was to St. Louis, Missouri, then a village containing less than 6000
inhabitants. Here I made my first appearance
in the character of Kit Cosey (ToWN AND COUNTRY), and was warmly received by the audience.
Our theatre was an old salt-house in Second
Street, mentioned as having been fitted up for
dramatic purposes by Mr. Caldwell the year before, and was generally well attended.  Our
manager had gone " East" to recruit the Southern company, and play a starring engagement at
the Park Theatre. The management was placed
in the hands of Mr. James S. Rowe, the treasurer
of the establishment, and the season was a paying
one. The comedy of the HYPOCRITE was acted
a great number of nights, Mr. Barry performing
the character of Dr. Cantwell, and the writer of
this that of Mr. Mawworm.
I remember with grateful feelings that the
late Governor Clarke and most of his family




SCENES OF EQUIVOKE.


53


made it a point for many years to attend my
benefits, which were always profitable and flattering to my professional pride. The drama of
the GAMBLER'S FATE was produced this season
with great success, and I think with considerable
moral effect.
Those were jolly times in St. Louis!
The Manager and the Planter.
In the days I am now writing about, it was
customary for Southern managers to perform a
journey once a year to "the North," for the
purpose of forming engagements with "stars,"
and filling up the ranks of their stock companies,
which yellow fever and the expiration of engagements had thinned.
During the stay of Mr. Caldwell at Cincinnati,
on one occasion he was besieged, as usual, by
actors of all grades, who were candidates for a
Southern engagement.  It happened that he
wanted a man capable of taking the stage management.
By one of those strange coincidences that will
sometimes occur (as if to help a fellow out with
only a tolerable story) a rich planter from the
vicinity of Natchez, Mississippi, put up at the
same hotel with Manager Caldwell, and he bore
the same name! This planter wanted to engage
an overseer for his plantation, and he was told an
advertisement in the Cincinnati papers would
soon draw from Kentucky (opposite) plenty of
applications.
The following notice appeared in the Evening
Post:
" An Overseer Wanted-by the undersigned.
To a capable man, good wages will be given.
Apply personally, or by letter, at the City Hotel,
to                      J. H. CALDWELL."
And the following in the Cincinnati Gazette:
" Theatrical Notice.-The undersigned will remain at the City Hotel, Cincinnati, until to-morrow morning at ten o'clock. Performers of acknowledged talent, who wish to engage for the
Southern theatres, will please apply immediately.                     J. H. CALDWELL."
It is not my business to state the result of
these notices farther than it relates to two individuals. A Mr. Henderson, better known as
" Old Henderson" (there are a great many of us
called old now, alas!), had long cherished a desire to visit New Orleans professionally; and a
Mr. Jackson, of Newport, was anxious to engage as an overseer at the South. Both of these
gentlemen called at the City Hotel about the
same time for the purpose of making their applications.


The would-be overseer, on inquiry at the office of the hotel for Mr. Caldwell-he knew of
but one, having seen no newspaper but the
"Post"-was shown to the manager's room,
while Old Henderson was conducted to that of
the Mississippi planter.
If the reader will please take a seat in Manager Caldwell's private parlor, he will witness a
specimen of equivoke that would not make a
very bad scene in a farce.
Overseer (entering). Is this Mr. Caldwell?
Manager. The same, sir. Be seated.
0. I come, sir, in consequence of your advertisement in the newspaper.
M; Ah! yes; your name, sir, is0. Jackson, sir.
M. A very good name for the South, sir.
Where have you acted?
0. Mostly in the western part of Virginialatterly in Kentucky.
M. What is your line of business?
0. Line of business? I have always managed the slaves, and made it a point to get all
the work out of them I could.
M. If you engage with me as acting manager
-and I suppose that to be your aim-I would
advise you not to call my people slaves; they
will certainly take offense.
0. Take offense! Why, what would they expect to be called but slaves?
M. I assure you, sir, there are some who consider themselves, and are considered by others,
gentlemen.
0. Then, sir, perhaps your " gentlemen"
would object to being whipped?
M. Most undoubtedly they would. Is that
your mode of carrying on business?
0. Where I have managed heretofore it has
been impossible to get on without whipping, I
assure you..M. Well, sir, that mode might answer in the
western part of Virginia, but it would not be
prudent to try it at the South.
0. Sir, if the business can be carried on without it, I shall have no objection; but if I engage
with you, and find any of your people obstinate,
I must insist on giving them thirty or forty each.
How many hands do you work?
M. We have something like seventy people in
the establishment, besides musicians.
0. Pretty strong-handed. But what occasion
have you for musicians?
M. I don't see how we could very well get on
without them, sir.
0. Well, sir, that is a matter which concerns
you, and not me. How do you feed your people?
M. They generally board at hotels.




54


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


O. They do? Board at hotels? Have music;
and you never whip?
M. Never; they wouldn't stand it.
O. What wages do you propose?
M. Thirty dollars per week is the salary I
paid my last acting manager.
O. That would be satisfactory to me. Of
course, I should have a room at your house.
M. (becoming a little fidgety). No, sir; you
would be obliged to furnish your own boarding
and lodging.
O. My last employer boarded me, furnished me
a horse to ride, and a servant to attend on me.
21. (wishing to bring the scene to a close). To
be plain with you, Mr. Jackson, I doubt whether
you would answer my purpose. Your method
of enforcing authority by whipping would cause
a rebellion at once.
O. Very well; if I don't suit you, there's no
more to be said. Good morning.
M. Good morning to you, sir.
[Exit Jackson.
While this scene was progressing in the manager's room, Old Henderson was pressing his suit
with the planter in another part of the house.
Actor. I have seen your advertisement in the
paper, Mr. Caldwell, and have come to offer my
services.
Planter. You wish to engage to go South?
A. I do, sir; and I have long wished to do so.
You have a large establishment, I am told.
P. Tolerably extensive; work a good many
hands.
A. Yes; I've been told you have a large company.
P. Pray, sir, what wages do you expect; and
what would be your system of carrying on an establishment like mine?
A. Would you wish me to take charge of the
acting department?
P. Most undoubtedly; I should wish you to
oversee the whole concern; my people would be
placed entirely under your direction.
A. You don't say so! I did not expect this;
but, if you think me worthy of such a trust, I
shall do my best to give satisfaction. By the
way, what is the price of boarding at your place?
P. Indeed I don't know. If you engage with
me, you will live in my house, of course.
A. Sir, you are very polite, I'm sure. How
many have you in your company?
P. About one hundred.
A. A very large company, indeed. Many
musicians?
P. Oh, I believe there are several of our people who play the banjo-I can't say exactly how
many. Are you good at whipping?


A. Whipping, sir?
P. Yes, whipping; you do not expect to get
along without some whipping, I suppose?
A. Why, sir, I must say I have never seen
that system pursued where I have acted.
P. What! no whipping! My dear sir, it is
impossible to carry on business in our country
without it, I assure you.
A. And don't the people object to be treated
in that way?
P. Object! Bless you, no; they are used to
it. Besides, it depends upon themselves whether
they are whipped or not; if they behave themselves as good slaves ought, they need not fear
punishment.
A. Slaves! Do you call your people slaves,
then?
P. Assuredly. What else can they be called?
A. (sidling toward the door). And if they
don't act well, you have them whipped!
P. Undoubtedly; and if they continue obstinate, and are insensible to the benefits of kind
treatment, and can not be reformed by severe
punishment, I SELL THEM.
A. (at the door). Sir, I-I believe I must decline an engagement in your establishment; your
"Rules and Regulations" are a d-lish deal too
strict for me, so I wish you good-morning.
[Exit Old Henderson in a hurry.
We next proceeded to Natchez, with the intention of making a fall season previously to
opening the Camp Street Theatre in New Orleans.
On our way down the river, my brother and myself, with our wives, together with a Mr. Cambridge and a Mr. Wilkie, were induced to stop
and perform a few nights at Port Gibson, in
the State of Mississippi, and a most pleasant and
lively time we had of it, the theatre being crowded every night we remained in that spirited little
village. We opened with the HONEY MOON,
and, not having a large stock of performers, we
were obliged to adopt the doubling system. It
thus fell to my lot to enact the Mock Duke, Rolando, Doctor Lampedo, and Neighbor Lopez!
It being our first appearance in the town, and we
all strangers to the play-going community, it was
never suspected that each character announced
in the bill had not a separate representative.
My share of the characters in the comedy was
announced thus:
Rolando (a woman-hater).......Mr. Smith..Jacques (the mock duke).......Mr. Sol. Smith.
Dr. Lampedo...................Mr. S. Smith.
Lopez.........................Mr. S. F. Smith.
It was remarked next day that "there ap



HOAX UPON A THEATRICAL DENTIST.


55


peared to be a pretty smart chance of Smiths in
the company"-which indeed was a fact; there
did appear to be a good many, every character
but two in the comedy having a Smith opposite
to it.
When we had concluded our season of four
nights in Port Gibson, it was found impossible to
procure carriages to convey us to Natchez, so we
had recourse to a large road wagon, drawn by six
horses, which carried the company and baggage.
Not being desirous to make much of a parade in
leaving the town (in such a conveyance), Pitts,
the proprietor of the wagon, was requested to be
ready a little before daylight, that we might
quietly take our departure. Pitts was punctual,
but he came dashing down the street with his six
horses rigged out in loud-sounding sleigh-bells!
On being remonstrated with, he innocently answered that he didn't intend to charge us for the
extras. After much persuasion he took off the
bells, but doing this delayed our departure until
after sunrise, and we were attended to the end
of the town by quite a respectable number of the
rising generation, all anxious to get a last peep
at the "show folk." At Washington, six miles
from Natchez, we took the precaution to make a
halt, and send honest Pitts ahead with our baggage, while we awaited the arrival of a couple of
carriages which he was commissioned to send out
to us.
At Natchez we found several new members
of the company awaiting the opening of the theatre; among the rest, George Hernizen, H.
Pearson, and Mr. and Mrs. Crooke (formerly
Mrs. Entwistle). It was here I again met my
old New York strolling manager, Mr. H. A. Williams, who was engaged by Mr. Caldwell as
principal low comedian, to supply the place of
Mr. Russell.
A theatrical Dentist.
Most of the company had assembled nearly a
week before the theatre opened. Time hanging
rather heavily on their hands, they set to amusing themselves as well as they could. There was
a Mr. Tooley in the town, a justice of the peace,
a member of the Church, and a violent opposer
of the theatre. On the previous season he had
connived at the escape of a negro thief merely
because he committed the felony in the theatre,
telling the sufferer (who was no other than myself) that he was served rightly, and it was a pity
he had not lost every thing he possessed, so that
he would thus be prevented following his criminal
profession! Among the new engagements this
season was a Mr. Carr, a kind of " rough-shod" vo

calist. a Cockney Jew, who could bellow out " Oft
in the stilly Night" like a clap of thunder, and
warble "Wha'll be King but Charlie?" like a
bull. We learned that this vocalist had been a
dentist, and he had communicated his intention
of singing and drawing teeth in the Western metropolis on his arrival there-in short, he expected to charm the lovers of harmony with his
wocal powers, and line his pockets by the exercise of his dental acquirements. These two persons were the ones chosen by the lovers of mirth
as the dramatis personce for the joke which was
to make the time pass lightly for at least a day.
In due time Dr. Carr received the 'following
note:
"Natchez, November 28,1858.
"SIR,-For some years past our town has been
visited by quacks, who have passed themselves
off for dentists, imposing on the people and
pocketing their money without rendering them
any essential service.
" My wife has for a long time been in need of
having a very difficult operation performed on
her teeth and jaws, which I have been unwilling
to employ any of the numerous pretenders who
have visited this place to do, hoping that some
skillful dentist would arrive with whom she
might be intrusted with safety. I have been
told by a friend from Philadelphia that you
stood very high in that city as a professor of
dentistry, and the object of this note is to request that you will favor me with your company
to dinner at half past one, bringing your instruments; and I assure you I will make it worth
your while to perform the operation required,
as money is no object to me in comparison with
Mrs. Tooley's comfort.
"Your having adopted the theatrical profession is an additional inducement for me to employ you, as I am always glad to have it in my
power to benefit those engaged in it, considering
it, as I do, the noblest profession on earth!
Your complying with this request may be beneficial to you in more ways than one. Be punctual at half past one.
" Yours respectfully,  J. TOOLEY."
When this letter was handed to Carr by a negro boy he was enraptured. Several of us happened to be present; he immediately excused
himself to us, and, saying he had an appointment, began to prepare for his visit. He had
swallowed the bait, hook and all. A few minutes before the time appointed, the performers
(by mere accident) again happened to be strolling
along the street which led to the justice's house.
Punctual to his. time, Dr. Carr was seen bustling
along, with a miniature chest of drawers under
his arm, and dressed up in the finest manner.
Every one asked him to stop on some pretense
or other. All we could get out of him was that
he "'ad a werry himportant haffair hon 'is 'ands,
and he vas afraid of being too late." Precisely




56


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


at the time appointed he knocked at the justice's
door. A servant inquired his business. "Tell
the squire that Dr. Carr vishes to see him."
"The squire is just sitting down to dinner."
"Yes, I know it; please to deliver my message." In a few minutes the servant returned,
and asked him to walk in. The doctor accordingly stepped into the dining-room, bowing and
scraping. After the usual salutations, the justice inquired his business. "I'm Doctor Carr."
"Ah! Doctor Carr, how do you do? Well,
Doctor Carr, how can I serve you?" "I am
Doctor Carr, from Philadelphia, you know."
"Well, doctor, to what am I indebted for this
visit?"  "Vy, you know, I have come to see
you; I've brought my hinstruments." "Brought
your instruments?"  "Yes- I belongs to the
theatre, you know-I've brought my hinstruments. I'm going to dine with you, and then
I'm going to hoperate on your vife!" At these
words the justice seized a chair, and, raising it
over the poor doctor's head, exclaimed, "You
infernal play-actor, if you don't instantly leave
my house, I'll perform an operation on your
head!" As he was about to suit the action to
the word, the doctor, in utter surprise, made a
precipitate retreat, roaring murder. At the street
door his foot slipped, and he fell headlong down
the steps, his instruments flying in every direction.
On being questioned in the evening about his
"appointment," poor Carr, with an exceedingly
chop - fallen countenance, replied, "Gentlemen,
that 'ere hinvitation, and the 'ole concern, was a
wile 'oax!"
The season at Natchez was short and unprofitable, so we proceeded to New Orleans earlier
than was intended.
CHAPTER III.
MR. BOOTH was nominally our stage-manager
the early part of this season. His "eccentricities" began to crop out about this date, and interfered somewhat with the interests of the theatre. Mr. George Holland made his debut, and
a great hit, in the burletta of a DAY AFTER THE
FAIR, and Mrs. Knight played and sung a very
successful engagement.
The rival Vocalists.
Mr. Still was for some years the principal
singer in the Camp Street Theatre, New Orleans. He had a very pretty ballad-singing
voice, and answered very well for the Captain


Somervilles in farces and the singing heroes in
melodrama. Mr.-I beg his pardon-Doctor
Carr was this season engaged, also, as a singer.
He had a thundering voice, and what he lacked
in musical skill he more thatL made up in impudence and assurance.
The actors, with one accord, determined to set
these vocalists by the ears. By retailing to each
the pretended sayings cf the other, in a few
weeks they began to treat each other coldly, and
presently they dropped all intercourse. From
the time they ceased to speak to or recognize
each other, it took but a very short period to
make them deadly foes, and many were the
threats made on both sides. When we had got
their jealousy and hatred excited to a proper
pitch, it was agreed that a regular "blow up"
between the two should end the joke. It had
been a part of the system to make them believe
that there was a great excitement in the town
about the talents of the two rivals. One night,
having learned in the box-office that the farce of
the SPRIGS OF LAUREL, OR THE RIVAL SOLDIERS, was to constitute a part of the entertainment for a holiday night, I went into the greenroom, where the two vocal heroes were sitting,
and addressed one of the principal performers
thus, pretending not to see the two captains, as
we called them: "This excitement about the
two singers has grown to such an alarming extent, that the manager has determined to have
a 'trial of skill' between them, and the one who
loses is to be discharged." The vocalists pricked
up their ears. Captain S. was incredulous at
first, but C. was caught at once. "Vell, I'm
ready any time; I an't afraid to meet the gentleman that vay, or any hother." He here cast a
most killing look at his rival,' who was Adonising
before the large greenroom mirror. " What
piece is selected for the occasion, and when is the
trial to take place?" asked old Henderson, who
was always in the front rank of jokers. "The
RIVAL SOLDIERS, I believe, is the piece, and the
8th of January is selected as the most appropriate day for the contest," answered I. Just at
that moment, as if to confirm my story, the callboy entered, and wafered up a cast of the very
piece spoken of, with Mr. S. set down for the
character of Sinclair, and Dr. C. for that of Lennox. This settled the matter in their minds;
there was no joke in it, for the manager never
joked. The songs were selected, rehearsals gone
through, and the glorious 8th arrived. The
house was crammed, as it always was on that arnniversary, and the bets ran high among the actors as to the result of the trial of skill.
For the purpose of clearing their voices, C.




COMMENCEMENT OF A STROLLING TOUR.


57


provided a large orange, and S. had procured
some mixture in a four-ounce phial. The mischievous actors contrived to fill C.'s orange with
snuff, and to substitute pepper vinegar, from an
oyster-stand, for S.'s mixture in the phial. The
moment arrived when their fate was to be decided by the impatient public. The two singers
were looking askance at each other in the glass,
with no very friendly eyes, when the call-boy
bawled out at the door, "Sinclair and Lennox
-all the act!"  Away went the rival soldiers;
but, before mounting the steps which led to the
stage, each hastened to his dressing-room to take
a last "clearer" of his throat -a suck at the
orange, and a portion of the pepper vinegar.
They met at the steps which led to the stage.
The vinegar and the snuff began to be tasted.
" Vat the 'ell 'ave you been putting into my horange?" shouted the doctor.  "What d-d stuff
have you been putting into my phial? I'm poisoned," replied S.  "By G-d! I'll vip you ven
I come off the stage," continued C. Here the
prompter's voice was heard exclaiming, " The
stage is waiting for Lennox and Sinclair." Away
they went, and met on the stage as friends,
though their side glances were any thing but
amicable. The cue for S.'s song was given to
the orchestra, and, after clearing his throat as
well as he could, he began, interlining the words
of the poet with some expressions of his own,
thus:
"Oh, my love is like the red, red rose,
That sweetly springs in June[Just wait till I catch you out, that's all.
My love is like the melody
[I'll be d-d if I don't lay a cane on your back.
That sweetly plays in tune;
[I believe it's poison.
And I will love my bonnie lass,
[My throat is all raw.
So deep in love am I;
[Oh, you big-mouthed villain.
That I will love thee still, my dear,
[I can't stand it.
Though all the seas gang dry. [I shall choke.
Though all the seas gang dry, my dear,
Though all the seas gang dry;
[Can't some one get me a glass of water?
And I will love thee still, my dear,
[I can't sing the second verse.
Though all the seas gang dry."
Next came C.'s turn; the snuff began to make
him disposed to vomit:
"March to the battle-field,
[I'll fight you, by G-d.
The foe is now before us;
[ Ugh! I will-I'll be d-d if I don't.
Each heart is freedom's shield,
[Confound the snuff, I shall throw it up.
And Heaven is smiling o'er us.
[Look out, young man, ven ve gets of the stage.
The woes and pains,  [Ugh! my stomach.
the galling chains,
[It's worse than the poison you talk about.


That keep our spirits under,
[I think a drop of something vould 'elp me.
We will drain our dearest veins,
[ You bloody rascal, you.
To break our bonds asunder.
[I'll break your infernal 'ead.
March to the battle-field," etc.
Their side speeches to each other, while going
on with their friendly dialogue, were equally
amusing, but the above is a fair specimen of the
whole scene. When they came off the stage we
all expected a regular set-to; but, somehow or
other, their anger died away as the effect of the
snuff and vinegar ceased to be felt. The next
morning they exchanged mutual pledges of their
innocence in regard to the "'oax," as the doctor
termed it, became excellent friends for the remainder of the season, and sung in concert ever
after.
The company was divided about the middle
of the season, and a part sent to Natchez, under
the direction of Mr. Booth, who exhibited many
of his " eccentricities" to the people of the Bluff
City.
Before the close of this season, my brother and
myself obtained leave to withdraw from the company, for the purpose of organizing a small strolling concern, intended to operate on the principal
towns of Mississippi and West Tennessee, commencing at Port Gibson, where our reappearance was warmly greeted by the inhabitants.
After performing at this village for a couple of
weeks, we proceeded to the flourishing town of
Vicksburg, where a small theatre was erected by
a Thespian society, and leased to us. Here we
acted for four weeks with unvaried success, and,
after returning for a week or two to our startingpoint (Port Gibson), where we played with but
moderate success, we proceeded to Memphis, then
a very small river town at the mouth of Wolf
Creek, in West Tennessee. Here we performed
in a room, fitted up for the occasion, in the house
of Mr. Young, next to his large warehouse, then
on the banks of the river. Old Mississippi has
since moved away about a quarter of a mile, and
Uncle Sam's Navy Yard now occupies the ground
where the Father of Waters formerly traced his
channel. Memphis, in 1829, contained about
six hundred inhabitants, and was considered a
" thriving place." Look at it now!
Our operations were commenced in Memphis
on the 23d of May, 1829, and we performed eight
nights, closing on the 3d of June, the total receipts being $319!-an average of less than $40
per night.
On leaving this city our "journey-work" commenced in reality. The conveyances to be ob



58


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


tained at this early date were any thing but ele-  The landlord hereupon took out of his vest




gant. Common road wagons, drawn by from
four to six horses each, bore this small band of
Thespians through the "Western District," if
not in very great style, certainly in great safety,
and at an extremely moderate pace. Our first
stopping-place was Somerville, where the inhabitants insisted on our giving an entertainment,
which was attended by the whole village, the receipts amounting to $39. We gave them the
DAY AFTER THE WEDDING, and a variety of
songs and dancing, without scenery, and with a
very small supply of lights. Bolivar was our
next station, and here a room was very nicely
fitted up for our performances, which were fully
attended, considering the size of the village.
The people seemed to come out of the woods;
but they gathered every night in such numbers
that in a week and a half the receipts amounted
to $349, which was an average of nearly $37
per night.
The Landlord's Disappointment.
Some business detaining me at Bolivar, I sent
the company ahead, and followed the next day
in the stage. I' arrived at about twelve o'clock
at night at the small village of Middleton-I
won't be certain that it is the name of the place,
but it will do for the purposes of this sketchand found considerable of a crowd awaiting the
arrival of the stage. The landlord came out to
light us, and I noticed that he stuck the lantern
literally into the face of each passenger, apparently with the intention of becoming acquainted
by a short cut with his new guests. I was the
last to alight. The landlord handed me out with
a very slight examination of my features, and
then, poking the lantern into the coach, clambered up the steps to take a particularly good view
of the inside. He was evidently looking for some
one. After a hasty examination he returned to
the sidewalk, where the passengers were waiting
to be shown into the house, and took another
view of each passenger's features with the help
of the lantern, which he moved about so as to
throw the light upon our several faces in turn.
" Why, he is not here!" exclaimed the worthy
landlord, turning to his neighbors, who were surrounding our party. "The h-ll he ain't!" growled a carroty-headed fellow in his shirt-sleeves,
who was smoking a pipe an inch and a half long.
" Then you've kept us up till the middle of the
night for nothing," he exclaimed. " Look at the
way-bill," suggested a slim, pale-faced youth, who
might be a clerk in the post-office. "Ay, look at
the way-bill," confirmingly advised the crowd.






pocket a pair of greasy spectacles, and with the
aid of his lantern began to scan the way-bill,
which the pale-faced youth had by this time
brought down from under the driver's seat.
"There's his name-yes, there's the old villain's name; but where is he " This last inquiry was addressed by the landlord to the passengers, while his little gray eyes peered over the
green spectacles, the eyes and spectacles together
assuming the appearance of two italic interrogation points reversed. As I was standing nearest
him, I ventured to ask who was expected-what
" old villain" was referred to, whose non-arrival
seemed to cause such disappointment? " Who 2"
sharply replied the landlord-" WHO was expected?  Why, the old fellow himself-the old
chap that has been cutting such a swarth at Bolivar. There's his name on the way-bill. Curse
his old picture, here have I and my neighbors
been waiting since eight o'clock to get a peep at
the old fellow. His company went through here
yesterday, and they said he would be along tonight! How is it?" Not wishing to be annoyed
by the old gentleman's attentions, and not being
in a mood to undergo the gaze of the smoking
and tobacco-chewing crowd, I asked him to name
the individual he was speaking of. "The individual! yes, he is an individual, certainly, though
they tell me he can take any shape he pleases,
and that he is one person to-day and another tomorrow, assuming as many characters as suits
him; and he makes people pay for seeing him
perform his tricks. Some people say he is as
good as a caravan!"
"But who is it?"
"Why, who should it be but OLD SOL?
There's his name on the way-bill-how is it that
he is not here?"
"I believe I can explain this matter," I answered. "The old gentleman you mention did
intend to come on in the coach this very night;
but he is a changeable sort of a fellow, as I know.
You are aware there are other routes to Jackson.
At all events, finding the seat vacant, I took it,
and am here in his stead."
"Well, stranger," said the old man, moving
toward the supper-room, "I don't wish you any
harm, and I don't wish to be uncivil to any gentleman; but I wish you had taken t'other route
instead of Old Seventy-six. Confound all such
don't -know-their-own - mind sort of fellows, I
say!" and he led us into the supper-room. After
discussing our midnight meal, I asked our mut —
tering landlord where I was to sleep. (We had
four hours' rest here, and the coach was to move
on again at daylight.) He took up his everlast



A PAIR OF CALEB QUOTEMS.


59


THE LANDLORD EXAMINING THE WAY-BILL. (See page 58.)


ing lantern and led the way to the best room in
the house. "Here," said he, lighting a candle
and setting it on the table, "you can sleep here.
This room was intended for the old sinner we
have all been waiting to see. I'll never prepare
another room for the old ragamuffin-never!"
and away went my worthy host and his lantern.
The last I heard, as he groped along the passage,
was, "Curse me if there is but one other man
on earth I would have staid up for, AND THAT'S
GENERAL JACKSON HIMSELF!"
Jackson was our next town, and here, for the
first and last time, we performed in a log theatre.
A tax was required to be paid for the privilege
of performing in this village; but the municipal
government promptly met and repealed the ordinance which classed the drama with shows and
rope-dancing exhibitions. All honor to them
for it. Their example might be followed, without discredit, by the corporations of older and
larger cities. Our receipts in twelve nights
amounted to $480-about $40 per night.
The citizen of whom we rented the log build

ing which we temporarily converted into a temple of Thespis bore the name of Cloud. Caleb
Quotem would have been a more appropriate appellation for this gentleman, for his occupations
were as various as the individual so named, if
not "more so." He was town constable, clerk
of the market, auctioneer, nuisance-master, painter (sign and ornamental), carpenter, joiner, negro-whipper, tyler of a masonic lodge, sexton,
hair-cutter, shaver (of bank-notes and chins),
grocer, whitewasher, proprietor of the theatre,
gauger of spirituous liquors, baker, and deputy
sheriff!
A Mr. Rudicel was not far behind his neighbor
Cloud in the number of his callings. He was a
dealer in dry goods and groceries, saddle and
harness maker (all at different stores), tanner and
currier, trunk manufacturer, tinner, butcher, boot
and shoe maker, brewer, carpenter, justice of the
peace, member of the town council, and had a
monkey to show!
In the town of Florence, Alabama, which was
our next place of stopping, we played in the garret of the principal hotel (the largest room in the




60


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


place), but with poor success, our total receipts
in seven nights amounting to but $251.
At Tuscumbia we fared still worse, receiving
only $150 for six nights' performances.
Our "journey-work" was suspended for one
month at Huntsville, where we played eighteen
nights in the beautiful little theatre which graces
that city, to but a trifle over an average of $50
per night. We performed only four nights in
the week; but I find by a memorandum made
at the time that there was "preaching every
night." The preachers carried the day-and the
night too, and we were very glad to escape from
Huntsville without a serious pecuniary loss. Yet
our performances were not without their moral
effect, though the preachers endeavored to make
their hearers believe that all who visited the theatre would certainly be eternally roasted in the
hottest sort of fires, the heat of which were to
be intensified by liberal supplies of brimstone!
During the performance of that most thrilling
drama, the GAMBLER'S FATE, where Albert Germaine and his family are represented in a state
of actual starvation, a country gentleman in one
of the side boxes suddenly rose up: " I can not
stand this," said he, in 'a voice loud enough to be
heard all over the house. "Gentlemen, I propose we make up something for this woman."
He was here admonished by certain "hushes,"
"set-downs," and " orders," that his proposition
did not meet with much favor; on the contrary,
it was received with considerable laughter, while
a whispered intimation came to his ear from a
friend at his elbow that the distress of the family was all sham! " Gentlemen," continued the
charitable country auditor, " you may 'hush' and
'order' as much as you please; for my part, I
don't see any thing to laugh at; you see the
woman hasn't any thing to eat; and that poor
little child of hers seems almost famished: now
I wouldn't give the rascal, her husband, the first
red cent; he doesn't deserve any pity; but really
the woman hasn't deserved this distress; she
has followed her husband through all his wanderings, and left her friends, where she was comfortable, to follow this scamp. Gentlemen, you
may laugh, but here goes my V!"  And, sure
enough, he threw a pocket-book. "There, my
good woman-Mrs. Germaine, or whatever your
name may be, take that! Send for something to
eat, and make yourself comfortable; but let me
advise you not to let your husband know any
thing about it, or he'll lose it at the first farobank he meets with, as sure as h-11! and now,"
continued the philanthropist, settling himself in
his seat, "now go on with the play."
My brother Lemuel and his wife withdrew


from the company at the close of the season
here, and went to Cincinnati, where he started a
little "journey-work" on his own hook, progressing as far as Pittsburg, where he disbanded his
forces the following spring without making a fortune.
For myself and family, with the traveling band
of strolling dramatists, we pursued our way southwardly, and in due time brought up at the seat
of government, Tuscaloosa, where we played, with
slight interruptions, from the 9th of September
until the 8th of January, to houses which barely
paid expenses, without giving a dollar to the
manager by way of profit.
Alarm of Fire in a Theatre.
The cry of "FIRE!" in a theatre is a most
alarming sound. It is alarming any where, but
in a theatre particularly so. Ever since the burning of the Richmond Theatre, whereby a great
number of persons perished, the least alarm of
any kind among a large assemblage is attributed
to fire, and a rush is sure to be made for the
doors, the "Richmond fire" being uppermost in
the minds of all.
Among the expedients resorted to during the
somewhat protracted season at the seat of government of Alabama, while awaiting the assembling of the Legislature, to draw audiences to
our little theatre, was the production of the pantomime of DON JUAN, or THE LIBERTINE DESTROYED, with all the "accessories" of snakes
spitting flames, fiends with torches, red fire and
blue blazes in the last scene, which was represented in the bills of the day to be no other than
the INFERNAL REGIONS, into which the amorous
Don was to be cast without benefit of clergy!
This was all very well "in the bills;" and the
boys about town were curious to know what sort
of a place it was they had heard so much about,
but never yet gotten P glimpse of. They ran
home to their daddies and mammies, and told
them all about the "great preparations" going on
at the theatre-their daddies and mammies told
their neighbors-and by the middle of the afternoon it was pretty generally known about town
that "11-11" was to be played at the theatre
that night. The consequence was-a very full
house.
Every thing went well until the "last scene of
all." Don Juan clambered into upper windows
(six feet high); committed divers murders;
escaped in a ship; was cast ashore; had a
dance with the peasantry; was invited to sup
with a spectre on horseback; did the honors of
the table with great propriety, and accepted in




A GOOD IMITATION OF FIRE.


61


return an invitation to sup with the marble statue in a grave-yard. Scaramouch, the Don's attendant, had his fun too; and what with riding
on the back of a dolphin, dancing with fishermen's wives, and eating maccaroni, he had rather
a pleasant time of it.
" Every body for the last scene!" was called
out in the greenroom; the fiends sprang to their
places, the snakes were wriggled into their situations behind each wing, the pots of red and
blue fire were manned, and a brilliant ending of
the pantomime was anticipated, when suddenly
an alarm of fire was heard in the front of the
house! Confusion followed, of course; the auditors tumbled over each other, all pushing for
the openings, and I am happy to say that all but
one got safely out. I will tell you presently
about that one; but first it is proper to explain
the cause of the alarm, for this time it had a
cause, which was nothing more nor less than the
burning of one of the wood wings, the fire having
communicated from one of the pots of blue fire,
the ingredients of which had not been properly
apportioned. On the instant of the alarm the
curtain had been lowered, and in less thart a minute the burning wing had been torn down and
the fire extinguished, not, however, until the canvass had been burnt from the frame. In the hottest of the rumpus, a man named Somerville cut
his way through the curtain, and in endeavoring
to stamp out the burning piece of scenery, the
pot of blue fire being unseen by him, he put his
jbot in it, and the lower part of his leg was very
badly burned. He was confined to his room for
several weeks.
Next day after the fire-or the alarm of firethe town rung with an account of the danger encountered by the audience the night previous.
The whole affair was greatly exaggerated. It
was said that, in an attempt to represent the
"infernal regions" on the stage, the scenery had
caught fire, the whole theatre only escaping utter destruction by the intrepid daring of young
Somerville, who had barely escaped with his life.
The bigoted portion of the Tuscaloosans seized
upon the, circumstance, and held it up as a warning to all play-goers, and, shaking their heads
ominously, said they knew all along that no good
could possibly come from encouraging profane
stage-plays in a Christian community. The tide
of public sentiment was fast setting in against
our poor little theatre, and I felt it was incumbent on me to do something to stem it. My
plan was soon laid and immediately executed.
I must here state that, the instant the fire had
been extinguished and the house cleared of the
alarmed public, I called the scene-painter, and


told him I would give him a week's salary if he
would produce a wood wing the next morning
exactly similar to the one burned. This he undertook to do, and accomplished.
During the afternoon of the next day " I mixed with the people," and ascertained that all
were fearful of witnessing a repetition of DON
JUAN; indeed, it seemed to be a pretty well understood thing that no audience could be collected together in that building again! What was
to be done? The new theatre at Montgomery
(my next stand) was not yet finished, nor would
it be in less than four or five weeks.
My plan was this: I must convince the people that there had been no fire-that what they
had seen was only an imitation!
Collecting together a committee of respectable
citizens, we all took a drink and proceeded to
the theatre. " Gentlemen," said I, after seating
them on the front bench, " it has been reported,
much to the injury of my interests and the interests of the drama, that there was afire here last
night. My object in asking you hither is to disabuse you, and, through you, the public of Tuscaloosa on this subject." Here one of the cutest
of the committee observed, " Come, Smith, that
won't exactly do; I was here myself, and there
certainly was a fire-something of a fire; for, before the curtain was lowered, I saw one of them
wings, I think you call them, all in a bright
flame."
"My worthy friend," I replied, " I don't in
the least doubt you think you saw it in a bright
flame, as you say; but my object is to convince
you that you labored under an optical illusion."
"Optical h —ll and d-n!" exclaimed rather
hastily the aforesaid speaker; " I tell you I saw
with my own eyes that scenery which stood down
there at your left all in a blaze."
" Excuse me, my dear sir," calmly replied I;
"you think you saw it; but I'll convince you in
one moment of your error."
Here I called the carpenter, and asked him to
place the first wood wing in its appropriate
groove. This he did almost instantly.
"There, gentlemen," I said, pointing to the
newly-painted piece of scenery triumphantly, "I
believe you will recognize that; you have seen it
often enough."
A close examination now took place, the result of which was the firm belief that it was the
same wing they had supposed to be destroyed by
fire. The committee of citizens unanimously
agreed that the imitation of fire the night previous had been most perfect, and gave me a certificate, which I published in an extra poster,
that they had investigated the whole subject, and




62


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


had come to the conclusion that there had been
a FALSE ALARM of fire in the theatre, and that
there was no danger whatever in visiting that admirably conducted establishment. DON JUAN
had a " run," and was the most successful piece
of the season-the last scene being particularly
applauded for its truthful representation of the
infernal regions.
*      *      *      *      *


But poor Somerville-where was he all this
time? He had heard of the reports about town
that the fire was all a sham, but he was confined
to his room from the effects of this sham fire.
One day he came limping to the theatre:
"Look here, old fellow!" said he, "what is all
this they've been telling me about your sham
fires? Do you mean to say that this burn I've
got on my leg was inflicted by sham fire?"
"My dear sir," I replied, gravely, "I don't
know how you got your hurt; I remember seeing you in here during the alarm, and, if you got
injured in your efforts to extinguish what you
supposed to be the flames, I regret it exceedingly."
"But," expostulated Somerville, "do you
mean to say that one of your wings was not in
a bright blaze?"
"I mean to say," replied I, " that one of the
wings might have appeared to be burning, but
there is the wing to speak for itself," I continued, pointing it out.
It was a somewhat remarkable wing. It stood
front of all the rest, and was therefore familiar to
the view of the audience. It was, moreover, of
a peculiar kind, being composed principally of the
body of a large tree, with a dead limb on one
side and a tremendous knot-hole on the other.
It was a wing to be remembered.
Somerville took a good look at the renovated
wing-went around it, viewed it in every light-.felt of it, and at last, being apparently perfectly
satisfied, observed, as he limped away,
"Well, I'll be d-d if that fire wasn't the best
imitation I ever saw!"
CHAPTER IV.
PREVIOus to this time I had made a contract
with Mr. Caldwell to lease from him the Natchez
Theatre for a spring season, and it was now time
to wend my way to open that establishment, in
order to "catch the stars" as they passed up
from New Orleans to the cities of the Western
country; but receiving from Montgomery a warm
invitation to visit that town, and occupy for a
limited period a beautiful new theatre just erect

ed by a Thespian society, instead of taking a
boat for Mobile on our way to Natchez (through
New Orleans), we once more betook ourselves to
the large road wagons, and in five days found
ourselves, "bag and baggage," at the place which
is now the seat of government of Alabama.
Here I became acquainted with John H. Thorington, a lawyer of great practice, who possessed
all the qualities requisite to constitute a good
man. He is no longer living to read my praises,
but it affords me a melancholy pleasure to record
his unvarying kindness to me and mine. As
mayor or intendant of the town, some years afterward, he took a decided stand against the gamblers who congregated in Montgomery in great
force, and he was persecuted by them in various
ways, until he concluded to leave the place and
remove to the Western country. In Iowa he
was afflicted with a disease consequent upon the
severe climate, which settled into his limbs, causing paralysis, and threatening his life. In hopes
of relief, he was taken to New Orleans, and placed
as a boarder in the Charity Hospital, where he
ended his days. I was with him while he was
lying on his death-bed, and afforded him at least
the satisfaction of knowing he had a friend near
him. Poor Thorington! He could not speak
his thanks; but the pressure of his hand, even
after he had lost the ability to raise his arm, told
me that his stout Irish heart retained its warmth
to the last pulsation.
There were other warm and true friends that
I made in Montgomery-George Whitman for
one. At the time I write of, Mr. Whitman was
one of the first merchants of the place, and owned real estate sufficient to make him a millionaire, which he would undoubtedly be at this moment-if he had held on to it.
The currency in circulation here was made tiup
of all sorts of what was termed foreign paper —
mostly counterfeit. The first night of the season, Mr. George Whitman went into the box-office with me to assist in selling tickets, as I was
quite ignorant about what money I could safely
take. A gentleman, with his wife on his arm,
asked for two tickets, and handed in a five-dollar
bill, which I instantly returned, pronouncing it to
be counterfeit. The gentleman flew into a terrible passion, and insisted on my handing him
the tickets and three dollars in change. "My
dear sir, I tell you the note is counterfeit."
" Well, sir, and suppose it is; what difference
does that make? A pretty fellow you are, to
come here and attempt to regulate our currency!
Come, give me my tickets; don't keep me waiting; don't you see I've got a lady on my arm?"
My friend Whitman here interfered, and said, in




THEATRICALS IN MONTGOMERY AND SELMA.


63


a low voice, "You had better take it; it is about
as good as any." "What!" remonstrated I,
"take counterfeit money?"  " Yes; we all take
it here," replied George. Well, thinks I, if they
all take it here, I am safe enough. So, without
more objection, I handed the gentleman his two
tickets and three silver dollars I happened to
have in my pocket, and the affair ended for that
night. Next day I had occasion to purchase
some small articles at a store, and I went directly to my friend Whitman's. Selecting what I
wanted, which amounted to a few shillings, I
handed the clerk the identical V received from
the gentleman the night previous. The clerk
looked at the bill, and immediately discovered it
was a bad one. He was in the act of returning
it to me, when Mr.Whitman, who was mounted
on a step-ladder showing some goods, turned his
head, and, nodding to me, said to the clerk,
"All right; take it;" which command was instantly obeyed, and four dollars and some cents
handed to me by the clerk.
The Montgomery Theatre opened, in an unfinished state, the latter part of January, 1830.
The attendance was good for two weeks, which
was the limit of our stay, in consequence of my
engagement at Natchez. Madame Feron, the
great singer, performed with us two nights, and
as we were without a regular orchestra, various
means were resorted to for an accompaniment to
her songs. A piano-forte was introduced upon
the stage, and she accompanied herself in some
pieces-in others she pressed me into the service.
Thus, in the farce entitled OF AGE TO-MORROW,
the dialogue was necessarily changed a little from
the original text:
Maria. I had a lover once.
Baron. A lover? Twenty, I dare say.
Maria. But he deserted me.
Baron. Deserted you?   Impossible.  What
had he to say for himself?
M~aria. He said nothing; but [if you'll have the
kindness to seat yourself at that piano, and give me
an accompaniment] I'll tell you what I said to
him.
Suiting the action to the word, the accommodating Baron Willinghurst (personated by the
writer hereof) seated himself at the piano, and
the beautiful song, "As I hang on your bosom,"
was gloriously breathed forth by the great prima
donna of European Opera, in a theatre surrounded by uncut trees, and occupied by an audience
whose appreciation was as warm as that of the
dilettanti of Italy. In the farce of No SONG NO
SUPPER, to account for the presence, in Farmer
Crop's house, of so rich an article of furniture as
a piano-forte, Crop was constrained to say that a
rich neighbor had stored it there until he could


get his new house ready for its reception. Thus
accounting for the instrument being there, it was
an easy matter to ask Margaretta to play upon
it; then a song was asked for, and after that another, and so on. Madame Feron entered into
the spirit of the scene, and seemed to enjoy herself very much, imparting her good humor to all
around, both before and behind the curtain. Mr.
Maddox, since manager of the Princess's Theatre, London, accompanied Madame Feron as her
man of business. From Montgomery she proceeded to New Orleans, where she had an engagement.
In two weeks we received in Montgomery the
sum of $883, out of which I paid Madame Feron
$101 for her two nights' acting and singing.
At the moment of departure from this village
I had a pleasant interview with Mr. Thomas S.
Hamblin, who was returning from a Southern
engagement.
We proceeded next to Selma, a very small village on the Alabama River, where we performed
nine nights in a ballroom fitted up for the purpose, to receipts of exactly $70 per night. The
number of inhabitants did not exceed 400, white,
black, and children. Those who visited the theatre visited it etery night. The sheriff, being one
day compelled to leave town on business, came
and left his dollar at the bar of the hotel where
we performed!
Arrived at Mobile, I was strongly urged to remain there and open the theatre, a shell of a
place in St. Francis Street, which was offered to
me by those who represented the interests of the
owner; but, considering myself bound to open
the Natchez Theatre, I pushed on to that city.
The Natchez Theatre opened under my management on the 10th of March, 1830, with the
following company - Messrs. H. A. Williams,
Crooke, Kidd, Campion, Marks, Myers, Tatem,
Cole, Anderson, Perry, Sol. Smith; Mesdames
Smith, Crooke, Honey, Prescott, Graham, and
Voss-which was afterward augmented by the
arrival of my brother, Lemuel Smith, on his return from his unsuccessful traveling expedition
to Pittsburg and other Ohio River towns, where
he experienced the usual vicissitudes which almost invariably attend " schemes" of that kind.
Having at this time accumulated a sufficient
sum (about $1100) to pay all my debts in Cincinnati, with interest, I was very anxious to proceed thither, and accomplish the object of my
seven years' toil. But I soon found that my
hard earnings were likely to be swept away by a
failing season of a few weeks in Natchez. I now
became sensible of the folly of leaving my "journey-work," hard as it was, for the luxury of the




64


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


"regular theatre."  At the close of the first
week, the receipts fell $150 short of the expenditures, and it was very evident that there was no
likelihood of an improvement in the business. In
this emergency I ventured upon a bold plan to
save myself from loss. It was this: I divided
my forces, placing my old New York manager,
H. A. Williams, in command of a detachment
for Port Gibson, where they opened the theatre,
and continued to perform three nights in the
week for nearly five weeks, at the same time that
the Natchez concern was in operation four nights
in the week! Even this bold manceuvre came
near failing to accomplish the object I had in
view, the receipts falling far below my anticipations in the then thriving village of Port Gibson.
At the end of the first week's trial there, the following letter from my lieutenant general was received:
"Port Gibson, March -, 1830.
"MY SOVEREIGN,-This expedition must be a
failure unless I have re-enforcements. I have
only squeezed out of the Gibsonians $162 in three
trials, which, after paying for transportation and
fitting up the house, gives but about $50 with
which to liquidate a salary list of $200 and upward, to say nothing of rent and printers' bills.
Might I suggest, mighty sovereign, the kind of
force best calculated to retrieve our lost ground
here, I should say, COME AND ACT YOURSELF.
' The king's name is a tower of strength,' and if
you will authorize me to announce you for Wednesday, as Captain Copp, I promise you a rich return from the treasury.
"Your faithful subject,  H. A. WILLIAMS,
"L Gen. of 2d Division, or Forlorn Hope."
The following was my reply:
"Theatre, Natchez, Sunday, March -, 1830.
"GEN. WILLIAMS,-I'll try it. WednesdayCaptain Copp.
" Yours truly,      SOL. SMITH."
The journey of fifty miles was easily performed on horseback, and the result was highly satisfactory, the treasurer's return being for that single night $166-four dollars more than the entire receipts of the previous week! My reception was enthusiastic in the extreme; and being
called before the curtain at the close of the comedy of CHARLES II., I promised a second visit.
Returning to Natchez the next day, and acting
in play and afterpiece at night, the Friday morning found me stiff and nearly done uip; nevertheless, I pushed on to the fulfillment of the promise
made to my friends at Port Gibson, and performed Delph on Friday night to a house rising $100.
Acted again at Natchez on Saturday night; and
finding by the meagre receipts at Port Gibson on
the same night (less than $20!) that my performing the journey every day between our two towns
would probably save me from loss on the season,


I resolved to encounter the fatigue, and made
arrangements for a relay of horses, by which
means I could perform the journey in five hours.
This feat I actually accomplished-traveling fifty
miles every day in the week except Sundays,
and acting every night for nearly a month! It
almost killed me, and I feel the effects of such
exertions to this day. But my object was gained; my profits at Port Gibson equaled my losses at Natchez, and I was enabled to carry out
my long-cherished wish to PAY MY DEBTS.
It may be interesting to some of the hardworking " stock" of the St. Charles, who consider it something of a hardship to rise in the morning in time to attend a 10 o'clock rehearsal, and
who can scarcely accomplish the labor of studying a new part once in a week, to learn how I
managed to get through the labor above mentioned. Premising that the roads in those days
were somewhat muddy and deep, I give a short
Extract from my Journal.
Wednesday. Rose at break of day. Horse at
the door. Swallowed a cup of coffee while the
boy was tying on leggins. Reached Washington
at 8. Changed horses at 9-again at 10-and at
11. At 12 arrived at Port Gibson. Attended rehearsal-settled business with stage manager.
Dined at 4. Laid down and endeavored to sleep
at 5. Up again at 6. Rubbed down and washed
by Jim (a negro boy). Dressed at 7. Acted the
Three Singles and Splash. To bed at 11k.
Thursday. Rose and breakfasted at 9. At 10
attended rehearsal for the pieces of next day.
At 1, leggins tied on, and braved the mud for a
fifty miles' ride. Rain falling all the way. Arrived at Natchez at half past 6. Rubbed down
and took supper. Acted Ezekiel Homespun and
Delph to a poor house. To bed (stiff as steelyards) at 12.
Friday. Cast pieces -counted tickets -attended rehearsal until 1 P.M. To horse again
for Port Gibson-arrived at 7. No time to eat
dinner or supper! Acted in the MAGPIE AND
MAID, and No SONG NO SUPPER, in which latter
piece I managed to get a few mouthfuls of cold
roasted mutton and some dry bread, they being
the first food tasted this day! etc., etc., etc., etc.
BUT I PAID MY DEBTS!
CHAPTER V.
THE season over, and all matters settled up
with the company, who proposed to visit some
of the Louisiana towns, enlisting, for the time
being, under the banner of my brother Lemuel,
I left Natchez with a light heart, and $1200 in
my pocket, for Cincinnati, taking Vicksburg in
my way, where we performed (my wife and self)
with Manager Jackson for one third of the night.
ly receipts, clearing $175 in three nights.




ENGAGEMENTS AT LOUISVILLE AND NASHVILLE.


65


Arrived at Cincinnati, the manager of the Columbia Street Theatre offered me an engagement for a few nights, which I accepted, and
played Mawworm for my benefit. This engagement was not remunerative either to the manager or myself, the benefit night being the only
one which yielded a profit.
A summer's rest placed me on my legs again,
and with the coming of the fall season of the
year came the desire to resume the duties of my
arduous profession. Previous to going South we
accepted an offer from Mr. Parsons, acting manager for Mr. Drake, to perform twenty nights in
Louisville, receiving for our services the sum of
$220. Mr. T. D. Rice was a member of the
company here, and was busily engaged in composing and arranging his Jim Cr'ow songs, which
afterward raised him to the topmost wave of
popularity, both in this country and England.
Charles B. Parsons, the acting manager, took
upon himself the leading characters in tragedy,
and played Hamlet, Brutus, Viryinius, and Iolia, and pale-face-hating aboriginal characters,
" written expressly for him," much to his own
satisfaction and that of the public. I have since
heard him give copious extracts from the speeches of Hazalet in the pulpit, without, however, having the candor to acknowledge the name of the
poet whose words he was transplanting into his
sermons. As a Methodist preacher, Mr. Parsons succeeds better than he did on the stageat least I think so; and, what's more and better,
I believe him to be a sincere Christian.
Miss Eliza Petrie, daughter of the Mrs. Petrie
who had traveled with me through Tennessee
and Alabama as actress of the old women of the
drama, was the young girl of the Louisville company. She possessed a good voice for singing,
and was beginning to become popular with the
public. Mrs. Rowe was the " old woman," and
her husband performed the duties of prompter.
Old Henderson was here "at home," and very
popular. Mr. and Mrs. Charles Muzzy were
useful members of the company, as were Mr.
and Miss Clarke. My wife played what is termed the singing business, with some parts in comedy, which rendered her a favorite, and insured
her a good benefit, on which occasion she personated the Countess in a play entitled MY OLD
WOMAN. My benefit was also a good one, after
taking which, our engagement being over, we
proceeded to Nashville, where we were engaged
to act six or eight nights, with Messrs. Rowe,
Gray, and Mondelli, who temporarily had the
management of the theatre. All I remember of
this engagement is this: a great number of
"stars," so called, were playing, and the houses
E


were awfully empty! The names of Mr. Caldwell, Mr. and Mrs. Pearman, Mr. Geo. Holland,
and (to make matters worse) the writer hereof
and his wife, were all announced in flaming capitals at the head of the bill on one occasion,
without attracting to the houseft rty dollars!
My First and Last Sermon.
The title of " reverend" has frequently been
tacked to my name on letters addressed to me,
and reports have been circulated that, during my
peregrinations, I have been in the habit of holding forth to congregations of sinners. The truth
of the matter is, I never preached but one " regularly-built" sermon in my life. With the exception of an address to the Encampment of
Patriarchs and Lodges of Odd Fellows from the
pulpit of the Unitarian Church in Mobile, and a
few brief remarks to a congregation of passengers on the occasion of taking up a collection for
a poor woman on the Alabama River many years
ago, the following sketch will contain a true and
faithful account of my whole ministerial experience.
As a preliminary, it must be known that my
brother, who had succeeded me as the manager
of the West Tennessee theatres, while I had gone
to Cincinnati to spend the summer and pay my
debts, in answer to the numerous and pressing
inquiries respecting the whereabouts of "Old
Sol," had uniformly asserted that I had been conver ted, and had commencedpreaching! By this
answer he got rid of any farther inquiries from
the anxious West Tennesseeans, who had been
accustomed to laugh at my stage jokes; for wonder succeeded to curiosity, and many a lurking
smile accompanied the shake of the head and
holding up of hands which the astounding information caused. "Is it possible?" " Who would
have thought of his turning preacher?" "I can
scarcely believe it!" " I would like to hear him
try his hand at it!" were some of the exclamations heard by my brother on his impartment of
the news of my conversion. Requesting the
reader to remember that I was totally ignorant
of these reports of my backsliding from the stage,
I proceed with my story:
My brother and his company were at Memphis, where I had an engagement of six nights.
A week before the close of the season in Nashville, I obtained leave to commence my Southern
journey, giving myself time to fulfill my promise
to my brother, and yet be ready at my post at
the commencement of the campaign in New Orleans, where I had an engagement for the season.




66


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED. ACTOR.


About three o'clock one afternoon, the stagecoach stopped at the little town of Bolivar, where
I had performed the year before, and where I
was well known by every man, woman, and child
for six miles round. The landlord of the hotel
expressed great joy at meeting me, and ushered
my wife and myself, with great respect and ceremony, into the family parlor, where he left us
for a few minutes to attend on the other guests.
The landlady and her daughters received us with
great cordiality, but I could not help observing
a sort of seriousness in their countenances which
I had never seen before. My cloak was hung up,
my overshoes taken care of, the fire stirred up,
and-in short, I found myself very comfortable,
and felt assured, by every action of my host and
his family, that I was considered somebody. Dinner was soon announced, and we arose to join
the general rush for the dining-room; but the
landlady interposed a pressing invitation that we
would join the family dinner, which would be
ready in about ten minutes. A most superior
meal soon engaged our attention in a room adjoining the parlor, with a cup of excellent tea,
than which I know of nothing more refreshing
while traveling. I noticed that when we had
taken our seats at the table, "an awful pause"
took place, while all eyes were turned toward
me; but, at the time, it did not appear very singular that the assembled family should wish to
have a "good look" at one who had so often
ministered to their amusement.
Dinner over, I was mysteriously beckoned into
a private room by Boniface, who said he wished
to have a few words with me. We took seats.
The worthy landlord here indulged in a long look
at me, the corners of his mouth and twinkling
of his eyes indicating, by certain twitchings and
winkings, that a laugh was on the point of breaking through all restraints, and making itself seen
and heard. After sundry " hems" and " ha's!"
and moving his chair a little this way and a little
that, my friend cleared his throat, and thus began a conversation, which resulted in a most singular adventure:
" You must excuse me-I can't help thinking
what a change has taken place in you; but I
must do you the justice to believe you are sincere
in your professions. Will you tell me candidly,
Mr. S., whether you like your present mode of
life as well as you did that of last year, when
you used to travel through this.country with
your company, and make us laugh ready to kill
ourselves with your comicalities?"
Supposing my questioner merely wished to
ascertain whether I was satisfied with a regular
engagement in New Orleans, after indulging in


the excitements and adventures incident to the
life of a perambulating manager, I answered,
"I must confess, my friend, that the change
is very agreeable to me; and a southern climate
is essential to my bodily health in the winter."
' You are, then, stationed permanently in New
Orleans during the winter?" inquired the landlord.
"Permanently," replied I, wondering what
could be the object of these questions.
" But the income"-pursued my friend-" the
income! that's the point! Do you make as much,
in your present line of life, as you did in managing theatres?"
"Well," I responded, "that is somewhat
doubtful; but in management there are a thousand cares and vexations which I now escape;
and if my income is not quite so large, it is now
fixed and certain-my salary being sure."
" Ah! yes," chuckled the landlord, " I believe
all of you take pretty good care about the salary,
and it is all right you should; 'the laborer is
worthy of his hire.' But how do you look, now,
upon the morality of your past life?"
"Why, as to that," I answered, "it is not for
me to speak. I have endeavored to do what is
right in all my transactions as manager and
actor, and I assure you I do not look back with
any regret on my past life."
"Well, come, I like you all the better for that.
I always told my neighbors that you never would
'run down' your former profession, and I believe
you are honest in your present course," said the
landlord, " and I will now proceed to business."
I was somewhat mystified, I confess, with the
conduct and conversation of my landlord, but determined to wait patiently for a solution of his
meaning.
Giving his chair an extra hitch, and assuming
a more serious air, the landlord came to the
point by saying,
" The fact of the matter is just here: the citizens of Bolivar, hearing of your arrival, have expressed an ardent desire-they have a hope, indeed-a wish-I may say a unanimous wishthat is, if you've'no objections-and I am commissioned to request-solicit-that you will stop
here to-night, and 'HOLD FORTH' at the courthouse. "
"Hold forth at the court-house!" echoed I.
" What! give an entertainment? Impossible. I
am announced at Memphis for to-morrow night,
and must go on in the stage."
"My dear sir," persisted the commissioner
from the inhabitants of Bolivar, "you can not
conceive how very anxious we all are to hear you
-indeed, indeed, you must gratify us-you can




DETAINED BY A PIOUS FRAUD.


67


not imagine the excitement your arrival has fillment of my engagement at Memphis on the
caused; and the people are determined to have morrow.
you stop and-"                               To my suggestion that some little " fitting up"
"It is out of the question," I remonstrated. of the court-house would be required, my accom" My engagement at Memphis is imperative; I modating entertainer cut me short by saying,
must be there to-morrow."                    " Leave that to me: the house shall be light"So you shall be, my dear sir," answered mine ed, the seats arranged, a place fitted up for you,
host; "we have arranged all that. Before it was and every thing fixed as it ought to be for the
decided on to let the stage go without you —"  occasion; give yourself no trouble about it, my
"What!" I exclaimed, in alarm, "has the friend, but retire to your room at once, and precoach departed, and left me here to-"      pare yoursel]: At seven o'clock I will go with
"Been gone three quarters of an hour," re- you to the court-house, and if you don't find the
plied my determined friend, deprecatingly; "' but greatest gathering you ever did see, I will never
don't be alarmed; Squire Jones has agreed to make another call on you to hold forth in this
hitch up his team of horses to-morrow morning village again."
before daylight, and by two o'clock you'll see the  Thus assured, I retired to my room, and, after
Mississippi River."                        sketching a programme for the night's entertain-'
In the early part of my professional life I had ment, I indulged in a refreshing nap for a couple
been compelled, as I have said elsewhere, to of hours, at the end of which time I was waited
"give entertainments"-" solitary and alone;" upon by my landlord, who was accompanied by
but for several years I had abandoned this disa- two pious-looking individuals, and conducted to
greeable mode of " raising the wind," and hoped the scene of my proposed labors for the evening.
I should never be compelled to resort to it again;  On entering the court-house, closely attended
consequently, I felt a great repugnance to the by the two pious-looking individuals and the landproposition of the citizens of Bolivar. Lectures lord, I found his expectations in regard to a large
had not at that time come into vogue, else I audience were more than realized. The crowd
might have easily fudged up something for the was immense. Every nook and corner of the
occasion.  Songs and recitations were all I court-room was occupied, and I was pleased to
could depend on for the entertainment of an au- see that the fair sex of the village were numerdience.                                    ously represented. The press for admission had
After a moment's reflection, during which I evidently been so great that the door-keeper had
took into consideration the fact that my means abandoned his post, for I saw no one acting in
of proceeding on my journey were cut off (by a that capacity.
" pious fraud," as the landlord called it), and  I ascended to the judges' seat, and my two atthat my finances were in a state that required re- tendants took their seats in the clerk's place beplenishing, I suddenly inquired of the landlord neath.
what I should make by the operation.         I bent down my head behind a sort of screen
" Why, as to that," he readily answered, " I that was in front of me to call to my recollection
can't exactly say; but I am sure our citizens will the words of my first song. I had been in this
be liberal. One thing I can assure you of-you situation but a few moments when my ears were
will have the greatest congregation ever assem- greeted with the following words, uttered by one
bled in this burg."                        of the pious-looking gentlemen beneath me:
"But there is no notice given," I argued.  "Let us commence our worship by singing the
"Isn't there?" triumphantly inquired the land- one hundredth psalm, long metre!"
lord; "just step to this window, if you please."  If I had been struck with a thunderbolt I could
It did please me to step to the window and not have been more astounded, unless utterly anlook out, but I can not say much for the pleasure nihilated. Before I could recover from my stuI experienced when I saw a crowd around the pefaction the reading of a psalm had been gone
court-house door, which stood but a few paces through with, and the whole audience commenced
off, reading a written placard, two lines of which singing it to the tune of Old' Hundred.
only could I decipher, one of which was,     I raised my eyes to the desk before me, and
"SOL. SMITH,"                 found there a Bible, a hymn-book, and a glass
and the other,                             of water. The landlord being near me, I beck" THIS EVENING."                oned him to me, and asked him, in a whisper,
This seemed to settle the matter. I con- what was expected of me. "Expected of you?"
cluded to GIVE THE ENTERTAINMENT, and trust he answered, with glistening and expecting eyes
to Squire Jones's horses and wagon for the ful- -" expected of you? Why, we expect a first



68


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


rate, right up-and-down orthodox SERMON, and I
don't reckon we'll be much disappointed either!"
The murder was out. I saw through it all.
But what was I to do? To gain time (the singing being concluded), I leaned forward and requested one of my deacons to go ahead with a
prayer, during which I called my thoughts about
me, and most sincerely prayed for a happy deliverance from my singular situation. Before the
conclusion of the prayer I had made up my mind
to " try my hand" at preaching-and I did it.
I had no time to select a text, but, opening the
Bible at hap-hazard, read the following words,
which I announced as the groundwork of my discourse:
"We are perplexed, but not in despair."-2 Cor., iv., S.
I will not attempt to give even an outline of
my discourse. I spoke with the utmost sincer

of that crowded congregation out of the path to
heaven.
At the conclusion of my discourse a hymn was
sung, during which I heard considerable of a
clattering, which sounded very much like c(oin
falling into platters, and with a strong voice I
pronounced the benediction, dismissing the congregation to their several homes.
The landlord and my deacons reported that
they had collected forty odd dollars, which, to
their great surprise, I directed them to apply to
" charitable uses. " At five o'clock the following
morning Squire Jones was ready with his wagon
and team. The landlord would not take any
thing for our dinner, supper, and lodging, declaring himself more than paid by what he was
pleased to term my excellent discourse.
Let not bigots and the regular clergy accuse


MIY FlKU'T AND LAb1T b.BUJMN.
ity, and soon found that, taking TRUTH for my me of making a mock of religion, or of scoffing
guide, there was no great difficulty in my new  at its forms. I spoke not a word, during my
undertaking. I will not say any thing of the forced ministry of one night, that I did not reorthodoxy of my sermon, but I trust there was ligiously believe to be TRUE; and should I ever
nothing advanced from that temporary pulpit, by leave my present profession for the. pulpit (which
that temporary preacher, calculated to lead any I shall certainly not do unless under a solemn




BANISHED TO NATCHEZ.


69


conviction of duty), I shall remember without
any feelings of regret MY FIRST AND LAST SERMON.
*     *    *    *     *    *     *
We arrived at Memphis in time to commence
our theatrical engagement on the night following, and were greeted by a large audience, though
by no means so crowded a one as that which witnessed myfirst appearance in the pulpit.
We played a week, with a profitable result, in
a temporary theatre, under the management of
my brother Lemuel, who at this point concluded
his strolling summer season. My brother and
the principal members of his party joined Mr.
Caldwell's company, and after a delay of two
weeks, waiting for a boat (we are not obliged to
wait so long nowadays), the combined theatrical
forces made their way to the Southern emporium
on an unusually slow boat called the " Rapid."
CHAPTER VI.
THE veteran tragedian, Cooper, came to New
Orleans this season to act a fortnight. I remember seeing him play Virginius, Beverly, Sir John
Falstaff (first time), and Cardinal Wolsey. He
was not very successful. In HENRY IV. Mr.
Holland and myself were cast for the carriers,
Holland being announced at the head of the bill
as a star!
Mr. Pelby also played an engagement, and had
some disagreement with the management, which
led to a personal encounter between him and the
stage-manager, Cowell. A large portion of the
company sided in opinion with Mr. Pelby, supposing him to be ill used on account of his being
an American; and the matter frequently forming the subject of discussion in the greenroom,
the prompter one night became confused, and instead of calling the Roman citizens to the stage
as "All the plebeians," bawled out, "All the Pelbians!" which caused a great laugh at the time.
A lawsuit was the result of the misunderstanding
between Mr. P. and the manager, and that eventuated in a verdict for-I don't know which of
the parties, and now I don't care.
The play of HENRY VIII. was produced with
great splendor.
Mr. Cooper appeared twice as Jack Falstaff,
which character he personated, according to my
poor judgment, better than any individual who
had at that time undertaken it on the American
stage since the days of Cooke, whose style he
followed as nearly as he could.
It became the policy of the management to


make a season at Natchez, for the purpose of
sending thither some of the " stars" who visited
New Orleans. A detachment of the company
was accordingly detailed for that city. My brother Lem and myself, with my wife (Lem's wife remained at Cincinnati), were among the unhappy
conscripts. With great reluctance we departed
for the City of the Bluffs, for we had provided
ourselves with comfortable winter quarters in the
Crescent City. However, there was no appeal
from Manager Caldwell's decisions; and if you
attempted to remonstrate with him on any subject, he was sure to convince you that you were
in the wrong! So we went to Natchez.
In consequence of what I then considered and
do yet consider the injustice of the management
toward my wife in Natchez, I withdrew her from
the theatre during the early part of the season,
and she consequently did not appear again until
my benefit, which was a very great one, yielding
a receipt of two hundred dollars more than that
of any other member of the company. During
the season Miss Clara Fisher, Mr. and Mrs.
Plumer, Mr. Charles Kean, and Mr. J. M. Scott,
performed starring engagements, which were
more or less profitable (generally less) to the
proprietor. Upon the whole, the season could
not be said to be a successful one.
Involuntary Pugilism.
It has been my good fortune to pass along
through the world without being engaged in
many personal conflicts with my fellow-beings,
which fact I attribute to three causes: first, my
great dislike to quarrels of all kinds, because they
are quarrels; second, a great reluctance I have always felt to inflict an injury on the person of any
human being; and, third, a still greater reluctance
I have continually felt to receive injury from my
opponent, whoever he might happen to be. So,
with the exception of the case mentioned as having transpired in Cincinnati while editing a paper, the one I am now going to relate, and a few
slight skirmishes not deemed worthy of record, I
have happily escaped fightings of all kinds. The
two exceptions referred to ended well enough for
me; but, good gracious! I was frightened nearly out of my wits while the fights were going on,
and right glad when friends interfered to prevent
farther hostilities.
The party with whom I was reluctantly engaged on this occasion I shall call O'Rourke —I
did not know his name at the time - an Irishman, rather short in stature, but brawny, wide
across the shoulders, sinewy, and every way just
such an individual as a somewhat timorous per



70


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


son like myself would be entirely willing to avoid
"locking horns" with.
My brother Lem, the year previous to the one
mentioned, had rented a room from a Mrs. Langdon, with whom this Irishman lived, and he and
I were in the habit, when speaking of him, of
calling him Langdon, from the fact (supposed)
that they two, Mrs. Langdon and Mr. O'Rourke,
were soon to be made one by the holy bands of
matrimony-though why we should have given
the poor fellow her name instead of giving her
his, under such circumstances, can only be accounted for by considering that we were always
taking the oddest kind of notions into our heads,
which, if any other person had entertained them,
he would have been thought almost insane.
We had never called this man Langdon to his
face; but one day, as we were going from rehearsal, seeing him coming toward us, my brother said, "Here comes Langdon."  It struck
me that it would be very funny to speak to him
as Langdon, and see the effect it would have
upon him. As he was coming on the side of the
pavement next to Lem, I whispered him, " Speak
to him as Mr. Langdon." No sooner said than
done. "Good- morning, Mr. Langdon," said
Lem, blandly, as we met and passed. The Irishman returned the " good-morning" almost before
he heard the name he was saluted by; but when
the name " Langdon" did reach his ear, a scowl
instantly covered his face, and he passed on. I
saw at once that he was offended, and became
satisfied we had done wrong. We talked the
matter over, and both regretted the sorry joke
we had foolishly perpetrated. However, there
was no help for it now. We would apologize at
the first opportunity. I say we, for, though Lem
spoke the words, it was I who prompted him to
speak them, and I took the blame exclusively
upon myself. My brother and I parted at my
door, he taking his way to Bailey's Hotel, where
he boarded, and I going in to dinner, which was
waiting my coming.
I had scarcely seated myself at table when a
smart rap was heard at the door. " That's Langdon," said I. I felt sure it was he-and it was.
As I opened the door, there he stood, with a very
pale face, and his hand behind him, holding something, as I imagined, concealed under the tail of
his coat.
"Ah! Mr. La -I haven't the pleasure of
knowing your name-how do you do?" said I.
"Walk in. "
He stood right still, and, peering into the room,
inquired,
" Where's your brother?"
"Athis hotel," I answered. "Gone to dinner."


"What hotel does he stay at?" he asked.
"Bailey's," I answered, promptly, without
thinking that I was putting this blood-seeking
fellow on my brother's track.
On receiving this answer, he turned to go.
"I want to say a word to you," said I, calling
after him, fully intending to explain and apologize.
"I want to see your brother," he answered
back, and sulkily marched away.
" This won't do," said I to myself; " I must
manage to warn my brother of his danger;" land,
telling my wife I had a sudden call on business,
I left her and the children to dine without me,
and hastened by a short cut to Bailey's, and up
stairs into Lem's room in the second story of the
house. Lem was at dinner. Taking a card, I
hastily wrote upon it:
" Your Room, 2 o'clock P.M.
"Beware! Langdon is waiting for you.  S. "
Ringing a bell, I. sent this, by the answering
servant, to the dining-room. In about a minute
and a half I received the same card back, with
the following line directly under mine:
" At Dinner, 2 1-60 P.M.
"You can'lt come it, Smith!       L."
What was to be done? He thought I was
playing a joke on him. We oftentimes did such
things with each other. No time was to be lost.
As he came out from dinner, he would inevitably
be attacked by the enraged Irishman, and though,
if warned, there was little to fear for Lem in a
fair encounter, we both felt so thoroughly ashamed
of the cause of the man's anger that it was desirable, in every point of view, that the foolish affair should be settled in a different way. I immediately dispatched another note to my brother
to this effect:
"I tell you seriously that Langdon has been
to my house inquiring for you, and I believe he
is at this moment waiting for you in the sittingroom. Come up here at once."
This brought him. His voice was soon heard
upon the stairs, and-oh, horror!-that of the
Irishman also!
"Come up into my room, if you want to speak
to me," said Lem, as he passed along the gallery.
"D-n your sowl!" growled the Irishman,
"we can settle it here. Stop-stop, I say!"
But there was no "stop" in Lem then; on
he came along the gallery, followed by Paddy,
and entered the room, which was one step down
from the floor he came over.
As the Irishman came to the door, and was
about accepting my brother's invitation to " walk
in," he saw me sitting composedly smoking a ci



A FIGHT AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.


71


gar (I smoked then, I don't now)-me, whom he
had left not five minutes before at my house in a
distant street, just in the act of sitting down to
dinner. He started back a pace, and I improved
the opportunity to step to the door and commence an explanation, telling him the exact
truth of the matter, taking the whole blame upon
myself, and offering the most full apology. He
listened impatiently, evidently intent upon a
fight, and replied, " I have nothing against you,
but your brother there knew my name well
enough, and he insulted me purposely, and he
shall fight me, by --."  " Oh, very well," says
Lem; "if he won't accept of our apology, and
will have a fight, I must accommodate the gentleman," and he threw off his coat. "Come
on," says Paddy: " that's hearty," and off went
his coat. "Stop!" said I, interposing between
the two-one in the room behind me, the other
on the gallery before me-" this must not be; it
is folly to fight about such a trifle; we did not
know your name, nor do we now know it."
"That's a lie," asseverated the Irishman; "you
both knew it." I couldn't stand "the lie," so
off went my coat. "Look here," said Lem, "I'm
not going to let you fight this fellow for my words.
Stand aside, and let me give the gentleman satisfaction. " There was no time for farther parley;
the belligerent Irishman came at me like a mad
bull, with head down and arms extended for a
hug. He was on the gallery, as I have said; I
was on the floor of the room, just one step, say
twelve inches, below him, bringing us very nicely
together, considering the difference of our heights.
I would have given one hundred dollars willingly
to have got out of the business, but there was no
help for it; I was " in;" so, bracing myself firmly on my right foot (having forcibly pushed my
brother back upon the bed, where he lay laughing during the combat), I met the enemy's
charge by planting a left-handed hit between
the eyes, which sent him reeling against the
banister. Quickly recovering, he came at me
again, again spreading out his arms and striking
wide, cursing and swearing all the time, and was
met by another blow very much like the first,
and with like effect. By this time a crowd was
gathered, and oh! how I did wish somebody
would take my opponent off; but, confound
them, they liked the fun, and insisted on the
fight proceeding. As for Lem, seeing that the
Irishman had no science, and that I was getting
along very well, he contented himself by clapping his hands and ejaculating such sentences as
these: "That's right, Sol! Go it, old fellow!
He would have it, now let him have enough of
it!" I never was so anxious to be relieved of an


adversary as in this case. I felt sure that if he
once got hold of me I was a goner! But he
didn't get hold of me, nor did he strike me a
successful blow. Every time he came up he got
a lick fairly in the face, and in about two minutes he was blind! His face (poor fellow!) had
lost all its distinctive features, and it is my belief that his own mother would not have known
him then. After the crowd had made up its
mind that my adversary had been punished sufficiently, they carried him down stairs to the
pump. The fight was ended, and I had not received a scratch; but I was terribly frightened
all the time, and was continually praying for a
separation.
My brother and I (feeling really guilty) expected nothing else but that we should be mobbed, or hissed off the stage by the Irishman and
his friends, and for three or four weeks were in
mortal dread of the reappearance of our determined foe.
One morning a message from the box-office
was conveyed to me upon the stage that a gentleman wished to see me.
"What sort of a gentleman?" I inquired.
"A short, stout gentleman- an Irishman, I
think," replied the boy.
"It is Langdon," I said to my brother.
"Yes," said Lem, "there is no doubt about
it: he has come to take his revenge."
"Well," said I, "there's no use trying to
avoid him; I must go and meet my fate."
"Very true," assented my brother; "but I
shall go with you; and remember, it must now
be distinctly understood, it is me he is to deal
with this time; you took the matter out of my
hands on the first occasion-my turn has now
come."
This as we walked along through the lobby.
Arriving at the box-office, we saw our man (it
was he, sure enough) sitting inside, apparently
quite cool and composed. Putting on as much
calmness as I could-standing outside the door
-I saluted him civilly, saying,
" Good-morning, sir; I hear you wish to see
me."
As soon as he heard my voice, he started up
and returned the salute with perfect good-nature,
adding the usual inquiry as to my health. This
being satisfactorily answered, he reached out his
hand, and, seeing me hesitate about taking it, he
said,
"Oh, Mr. Sol, don't hold back; and your
brother there, that wanted to get at me so while
you and I were settling the general dif-fic-ulty,
let me have a shake of his hand too: it was no
fault of his that you stood up in his place. I




72


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


want to feel of you," he continued, after shaking I ing business for two weeks. The newly-organized
us both by the hand for some time; " I want to company consisted of Messrs. L. Smith (leading
see what the divil you are made of, any how, that actor in tragedy and light comedy), Pearson,
you can lick Paddy O'Rourke all into smithereens Carter, Baily, Short, Palmer, Jones, Wilkins,
without receiving a rap in return."          Mrs. Sol. Smith (leading actress), Mrs. Carter,
Hereupon he felt of my rather small hands and Mrs. Palmer, and Miss Carter. Baily was the
arms till he was perfectly satisfied that science most useful man I ever employed. Besides acthad done the whole thing.                    ing, and singing between the pieces, he was
"That's it," said he; "I told my friend so "property man," and attended entirely to the
afterward - it was the science, and not the fitting up of our temporary theatres while' we
strength, that did it."                      were journeying. St. Louis at this time conAs soon as I could get in a word, I re-tender- tained less than 7000 inhabitants.
ed the apology I had offered at the hotel, and
expressed a hope that he would now accept it..
"Divil an apology will I accept," said he.
"Didn't we fight it out? and didn't I get beau-            CHAPTER VII.
tifully whipped? No apology-none; unless I    OrR first halting-place in this our new camowe one for getting never a lick at you while paign was Memphis. Here we performed seven
you were punishing me so ilegantly."         nights with indifferent success, and then departAfter some little farther conversation in the ed for Bolivar, where my former landlord resame strain, Mr. O'Rourke said:              ceived me with open arms, having found out that
"Now I'll tell you what I'm come for: I've the report of my having retired from the stage
made a bet with some fellows that you can whip and taken to preaching was all a mistake. I
any man in Adams County. The question is, think, however, my " first and last sermon" must
will you fight for me and let me win this wager?" have converted a good many of the Bolivarians,
I assured him I would not.                 for they no longer flocked to the theatre, as on
"Oh bother! don't say no! You are sure the occasion of our former visit. Our total reto win for me. I can whip any man in the ceipts in six nights amounted to but $151. We
county but yourself. You see they haven't got left, and I have never visited that village since,
the science."                                either as an actor or as a preacher.
I persisted in my refusal, and he rose to de-  In Florence we fared no better, the receipts
part, saying, "I like you-I like you all the bet- averaging about the same as at Bolivar. We
ter for the punishment you gave me, for you did tried a week over at Tuscumbia; but a religious
it genteelly, standing up to it like a man. By. excitement prevailing there at the time (one lady,
the-by, when is your benefit?"              a Mrs. Goodlow, hanged herself in her ecstasy),
I told him when.                           we played but six nights, to an average of $42
"Look out for a smasher," said he; "I'll see per night, and quit. The only other incident of
that the Irish turn out on the occasion;" and he interest during our stay in this place was the evwent away after another general shaking of hands ident impression I made on the susceptible heart
with my brother and myself.                  of some young girl, which caused her to break
He kept his word at my benefit night-there out in the following paraphrase of some old
was a smasher-an immense house; and when verses through the newspaper:
I retired from before the curtain, after respond-  TO "OLD SOL"-The Western Comedian
ing to a call for a speech, amid the shouts which   sB A YOUNG LADY OF TUSOUMBIA.
greeted me, I recognized my friend's voice crying  Let bigots rail against the stage,
out, " Go it, old boy! You desarve all you have    In senseless declamation dull;
got to-night, and more too! It's the science that  They ne'er, with all their rant and rage,
did it!"                                           Could calm a heart like thee, "Old Sol!"'
Let others praise the Forrest green,
And some their Booths will yet extol;
Accepting a re-engagement with Mr. Caldwell,    But to expel the blues or spleen,
we next went with the company to St. Louis,        You're for my money yet, "Old Sol!"
where the season was an utter failure. I find,    Let dandies stay at home and gaze,       Upon some automaton doll;
by reference to some scraps of memoranda, that    Such senseless beings some may please,
the theatre closed in July, and the main body of   Because they've never seen thee, "Sol!"
* the dramatic forces proceeded to Louisville, while  And lovers, too, be highly pleased
I, with a small party gathered together in haste,  While pleading to some Pegg or PollI'd with such nonsense ne'er be teased
opened the theatre at halfprice, and did a thriv-  While I could hear thee plead, "Old Sol!"




PERFORMANCE BY A THESPIAN SOCIETY.


73


Farewell; and may it be thy lot,
Where'er you go, t' have houses full;
And when you come this way, I wot,
We'll treat you with a bumper, "SOL!"
Our next town was Columbia, Tenn., where
we acted twelve nights in a very neat little theatre, owned by a histrionic association, and our
receipts reached $60 per night. I find, on reference to my cash-book, that the comedy of the
HYPOCRITE was the most attractive piece we
played about these days.
At the spirited little town of Pulaski we performed a week, in the theatre belonging to the
Thespian Society, to very good houses. Previous
to commencing, we attended a representation of
the society by invitation, and I must say I have
seldom enjoyed a performance more than on that
occasion. The theatre was about sixty feet long
and thirty wide. No boxes-all pit. Over the
curtain were two ill-proportioned mermaids, or
some other nondescript animals, blowing trumpets, and supporting a scroll with these words
inscribed upon it:
" THE WORLD IN MINIATURE."
Underneath this motto was painted what was intended to be a representation of a pile of drums,
trumpets, fiddles, guitars, and cannon balls; the
remainder of a very high proscenium, tapering
off at the top like the gable-end of a house, was
painted to resemble brick! This embellishment
was hugely admired by the Pulaskians, and I
was called on for my opinion of the decorations.
Of course I admired them very much. The
Thespian performances consisted of the SOLDIER'S DAUGHTER and THREE WEEKS AFTER
MARRIAGE. The costume adopted by the amateur actors was ludicrous in the extreme. The
reading and acting were equally so. The gentlemen wore their hats pulled down over their
eyes during the whole evening, as if fearful of
being known. The females (made of large boys)
strided about in a very peculiar and unfeminine
manner. Young Mabfort entered through a back
window! and justified the step by the language
of the text, which makes him say, " I believe I
have mistaken the apartment." Frank Heartall,
in expressing his extravagant joy at finding his
supposed rival is a brother of the widow, instead
of making use of the language selected for that
purpose by the author, broke out in the following
strain: "I am so happy that I could jump over
the Ohio, wade up the Mississippi, and tow two
steam-boats over the falls at Louisville!" In
the afterpiece Sih. Charles Rackett changed the
game of whist to that of poker, as being a game
better understood in that section of country, and
swore at his wife at a terrible rate, using the


profane expression, "By G-d!" at least fifty
times!
A fair-haired girl, sixteen years of age, followed us to this place from Columbia, with a determination to join the company and become an
actress. I dissuaded her from her purpose, but
she persisted. I placed her under the care of the
landlady of the house where we boarded, and
promised to give her an answer to her application in a week. In the mean time I wrote back
to her parents, stating the circumstances of the
girl's elopement, and begging them to come or
send for her. The day before we left the town
her brother arrived, and, after much persuasion
on his part, and a positive refusal to receive her
into the company on mine, she consented to return to her anxious parents.
The night previous to our departure we were
complimented with a serenade by all the musicians of the place.
A Black Crowd.
My brother and myself were in the habit of
playing off all sorts of jokes at the expense of
whoever happened to come in our way, and occasionally on each other. We left Pulaski on a
Sunday morning. The women were provided
with a carriage, while Lem and myself rode on
horseback. The carriage started early, and was
many miles on the road before we left the hotel,
where I was detained an hour or two in settling
up the bill, and closing the business of the little
season. Lem managed to slip off a few minutes
before me, promising to wait my coming up a
couple of miles from the town. He did wait for
me. As I was descending into one of the beautiful valleys of that region, I saw before me a little army of negroes, some on horseback and others on foot, drawn up across the road, as if to interrupt my progress. I paid but little attention
to this, as I knew the slaves were mostly at liberty on Sundays, and I supposed they had a
gathering for some frolic of their own. The only
thing that puzzled me was the fact that there
was my brother, riding up and down, marshaling
the negroes, addressing them earnestly, and frequently pointing toward me as I descended the
hill. I was not left long in doubt as to their intentions; for, when I had arrived within about
ten yards of the crowd, my brother called out to
me, at the top of his voice, " I charge you, in the
name of General Jackson and the State of Tennessee, to surrender!" To carry on the joke
which I supposed he was playing on the negroes,
I answered, "I will not surrender with life."
Upon receiving this answer, he instantly turned




74


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


to the crowd, and, addressing it in a very earnest
manner, said, "This is the murderer of my brother Sol-seize him!" The negroes made a rush
toward me, and, urged on by my mischievous
brother, attempted to seize my bridle-rein. Finding there was no escape but in flight, I put spurs
to my horse, and, upsetting some of the foremost
of the gang, made my way through the crowd,
and set off at full speed toward Huntsville. I
was closely followed by my brother and the black
crowd several miles, the hue and cry bringing
out fresh forces from every plantation we passed.
By hard riding I at length distanced my pursuers, all but Lem, who, of course, zealously pursued the supposed murderer of his brother, until
the negroes were left far behind. We then enjoyed a most hearty laugh; but both of us resolved to leave off such practical jokes against
each other, lest we might some day raise a storm
we could not quell, which was nearly the case in
the present instance.
At Huntsville we made a season of four weeks,
and our receipts averaged only $60 per night.
This was my last professional visit to this thriving city. The drama may flourish here at some
distant day, but it will be when religious meetings and faro-banks shall have lost their attractions.
A journey of one hundred and eighty miles
brought us to Tuscaloosa, where the state Legislature was in session, and where we opened on
the 19th of November, 1831, with the SOLDIER'S
DAUGHTER and the Two GREGORIES.
"Here's your Blood."
On the second night we performed PIZARRO,
my brother acting the part of Rolla. In the last
act, after seizing the child, and as he was rushing up toward the bridge, he observed a tall negro holding a teacup full of blood (rose pink),
which was wanted almost immediately on the
other side of the stage. As he passed he said
to the negro, " Here, boy, carry that blood round
to me on the other side; I want it the moment
I cross the bridge." Away dashed Rolla, bearing the child aloft, amid a volley of Spanish musketry; and, turning to cut away the bridge with
his sword, what was his horror to see the tall negro walk deliberately upon the stage, between
the " waters," and in full sight of the audience,
holding the cup in one hand and stirring up the
contents with the forefinger of the other, and
hear him exclaim, " Heah, Master Smith, here's
your blood!" I ordered the drop to be lowered
immediately, to shut in'the ludicrous scene.


Lobbying for a Benefit.
Toward the close of the season the night sessions of the Legislature interfered considerably
with the interests of the theatre-so much so,
indeed, that whenever a night session was held
our hall was nearly deserted.
My benefit was announced for the closing
night of the dramatic season, and I did hope
that on this particular occasion a night session
of the Legislature would be dispensed with, as
many influential members of both houses had assured me they would do all in their power to
make my benefit a good one.
The election of bank directors, by joint ballot,
had been postponed from day to day for nearly a
week-one house resolving on meeting the other
on such a day, and the other amending the resolution by proposing another, and so on, until the
very day of the night on which my benefit was
announced to take place. Just as the House was
about to adjourn in the afternoon, the resolution
of the Senate appointing that very day for the
election of directors was amended by substituting " at night," and it was generally understood
by senators, representatives, and citizens that the
Senate would meet and concur in the amendment
of the House, and that immediately thereupon
the Senate would proceed to the hall of the House
of Representatives, and the election would be proceeded with. No one unacquainted with Alabama
politics can form the least idea of the absorbing
interest created by these elections by the Legislature in joint session. Every thing else is foagotten: the galleries are crowded with spectators; the whole town turns out en masse, as
though the affair could not be gotten through
with without their general and particular attention. As for myself, I saw at a glance that "it
was all up with me," unless I could, by a bold
and successful coup d'etat, upset the whole arrangement of the " collected wisdom" of the Conamonwealth.
" Here goes," said I to my brother, as I sallied out after a late and hasty dinner; " nothing
like trying! Go to the theatre, and have every
thing ready for a punctual beginning."
"All right, " answered Lem; "I'll have everl
thing ready, you may depend on that; but I fear
we shall have to play to empty benches."
"Perhaps not," I replied;
"' If I fail not in my deep intent,'
we shall play the HYPOCRITE to a good house
yet." So saying, I departed on my lobbying
mission.
During two seasons in Tuscaloosa it may be




LOBBYING FOR A BENEFIT.


75


supposed I had made many friends, both among
the members of the Legislature and the citizens.
As I hurried through the streets on my present
errand, I met many of the latter, who shook their
heads in a peculiarly sorrowful and discouraging
manner, saying, "Ah! Sol, old fellow, your benefit to-night-meant to attend-but this electionmust go and see that-very sorry," and words of
like import. All seemed to agree in one thingthere would be nobody at the theatre, and I had
better postpone; but I had no idea of giving it up
so, as I had contracted with a boat, which was to
leave the next morning, to take the company to
Mobile. " I'll have a full house yet," I said to
myself, as I mounted the steps of the State-house,
where the members and spectators were already
beginning to assemble in large numbers. I stationed myself in the lobby of the Senate chamber, where I soon had an opportunity of seeing
Judge Perry, an influential member of the Senate, who had frequently professed himself my
friend, and willing to serve me if in his power.
" Judge," said I, hastily seizing him by one of
his coat buttons, " you have it in your power to
do me an essential service."
"' Glad of it," answered the judge. "What can
I do for you, friend Sol?"
" My benefit takes place to-night," said I" So it does," replied the judge; " I recollect
-Hypocrite-Mawworm-ha! ha! ha!-wanted to be there; but this confounded joint session
-it will kill your house-can't you postpone?"
" No-must start for Mobile to-morrow-passages engaged. Can't you postpone this joint
session?" demanded I, looking him boldly in the
face.
"Oh, no-no; impossible. It is an understood thing-the election will certainly come off
to-night-no getting over it," said Judge Perry,
evidently sorry that he could not oblige me.
" But, judge," persisted I, " the Senate has not
yet concurred in the amendment of the House."
" That's true," he replied; " but it will concur
-mere matter of form-that will be the first
business; and we then proceed to the House,
where the people are now assembled waiting for
us."
" Well, judge, you have often expressed a wish
to serve me-you now have it in your power."
"How?"
" Thus-vote against concurring in the amendment of the House."
"My dear fellow, it will be of no use whatever; one vote against concurring can not be of
any service to you; the election will certainly
go on."
"Never mind that; if you wish to manifest


your friendship, promise me that you kwill vote in
the way I wish."
" Well, well, I do; you have my promise for
that," were the concluding words of the judge, as
he left me to take his seat in the Senate chamber; "but, rely upon it, the election will go on."
Having thus secured the judge, I turned my
attention to another senator, who, under the supposition that one vote would make no difference
in the intended action of the Senate, pledged me
that he would vote against concurring with the
House amendment. I then attacked another senator with the same result, and another, and so
on, until I hadthe pledges of thirteen senators,
each supposing he was the only one who had
promised me to vote in the negative. I had thus
secured a majority when the president's hammer
called the Senate to order.
" The first business before the Senate, gentlemen, " spoke the president (Mr. Pickens, I think),
"is the amendment of the House to the resolution appointing a joint session for the election of
bank directors; the question is on concurring
with the amendment-is the Senate ready for
the question? As many as are in favor of the
amendment appointing this evening for the joint
session will signify the same by saying Aye."
A considerable number of " Ayes" responded
-enough, as it was generally supposed, to carry
the question in the affirmative. As a mere matter of form, however, the president continued,
"As many as are of a different opinion will
signify the same by saying No."
To the astonishment of every person in the
hall, a considerable number of " Noes" were
heard. The president thought there was some
mistake (so well was it understood that the election was to take place that night), and required
that those who voted in the affirmative should
RISE. Twelve senators stood up, who, after being carefully counted, were directed to resume
their seats. The negative vote was then called
in the same way, when THIRTEEN members rose
to their feet, looking around on each other with
evident surprise at finding so numerous a vote in
the negative.
The president, after counting the negative vote
twice over, to make sure, announced that the
amendment was LOST. A motion to adjourn,
made by my friend, Judge Perry, was now carried by acclamation, and in less than three minutes the House followed the Senate's example,
and streams of people were seen issuing from the
State-house, chatting to each other, and asking
what in the world it all meant.
My benefit was a most brilliant one, and a
few " extra licks" I threw into the character of




76


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


Mawworm told immensely with the audience,
particularly with the thirteen non-concurring
senators.
Next day, January 15, 1832, we embarked on
board the American, Captain Hammond, which
in three days carried us safely-to Mobile, a city
which I had long wished to visit professionally.
The first person I met on landing was Thaddeus Sanford, one of the very best men I ever
knew, and a true friend.
A small theatre was fitted up over a billiardroom in Royal Street, and the first season of my
theatrical management in Mobile -commenced on
the 25th of January, 1832, with the comedy of
the SOLDIER'S DAUGHTER and farce of the LYING VALET.
The company consisted of Messrs. L. Smith,
Palmer, Pearson, H. A. Williams, Carter, Madden, Morton, Baily, Davidson, Trower, Donaldson, and Sol. Smith; Mesdames Sol. Smith, Carter, Sizer, Williams, and Miss Carter.
Henry J. Finn came and played an engagement of six nights, much to the delight of the
Mobilians.
Mr. Ned Raymond also performed a starring
engagement, and made money. He made his
first appearance on any stage in Rochester, N.
Y., in 1825, in the character (or characters) of
the ACTOR OF ALL WORK. His ambition was
then to become a low comedian-now he aspired
to tragedy, and figured in Virginius and Brutus.
A year or two afterward, in a fit of mania a potu,
he committed suicide by throwing himself from
one of the wharves in Boston. Raymond was
not his real name; that I withhold in consideration for the feelings of his surviving relatives, who
reside in the city of New York.
This was considered a most successful season,
and it was moderately so. As it was myfirst in
Mobile, and was the stepping-stone to my future
operations in that city, an accurate account of
the business of the season may not be entirely
without interest to the reader:
First  week, Receipts (4 nights)...$320 00
Second    "    "     (6 nights)... 660 00
Third     "        "   ("  "  )... 820 00
Fourth    "     "    (5 nights)... 543 00
Fifth     "          " ("  "  )... 505 00
Sixth    "     "     (6 nights)... 1279 00
Seventh   "        "  ("  "  )... 764 00
Eighth    "    "     (2 nights)... 255 00
Total receipts of the season....... $5146 00
My expenses during the eight weeks,
including $575 paid to stars, and
without reckoning traveling expenses to andfrom Mobile, amounted  to............................5121  00
Leaving me a profit of............ $25 00!!


If any citizen of Mobile had been asked to
give an estimate of the profits of the theatre that
season, ten thousand dollars would probably have
been the very least sum thought of! And so it
is with nearly every outdoor estimate of the business of theatres. For my own part, I must confess that the remembrance of my first professional visit to Mobile causes none but pleasing sensations. The audiences were easily pleased, and
the actors exerted themselves to the utmost in
their several roles, in gratitude for the leniency
of the public.
Toward the close of the season's operations,
Mr. Purdy Brown, by his agent, Mr. James P.
Baily, opened, in an unfinished state, and with a
very meagre company, a new theatre in St.
Emanuel Street, and I withdrew my forces to
Montgomery, deeming it better to leave the field
to the invading army than to fight a battle in
which both parties must inevitably be losers.
A most disastrous season my friend Brown
had of it, commencing as it did late in February, and closing in the spring with a heavy loss,
notwithstanding the attempts to retrieve the fortunes of the day by bringing on the field a large
force of cavalry. Poor Purdy! I have some
reminiscences in store respecting him which I
may or may not put on paper for the amusement
of the reader. He is gone to another scene of
action, where I trust he is free from the annoyances of theatrical management, which, to say
the truth, he was every way unfitted for, while,
as a manager of a circus, no one was more capable.
I have not preserved the records of our season
at Montgomery; but it was quite successful,
yielding a handsome profit. It was from this
point I made my arrangements for the invasion
of Georgia, which event was to take place in the
month of May of this year.
But, before proceeding through the Creek nation to that old and patriotic state, we were induced to pay a short visit to Selma, where we
were welcomed by the same generous support
($70 per night) which had been extended to my
former company the year before.
In an unlucky hour I listened to the urgent
solicitations of several of the most influential citizens of Cahawba to give a week's performance
at that ancient village, formerly the seat of government of the state; but the "lovers of the
drama" were too few in number to remunerate
us for our trouble, and, after playing five nights
to wretched business, the steamer Herald heaving in sight, I "pulled up stakes" in doublequick time, and we embarked, bag and baggage,
for Montgomery.




AN ACTOR CHASED BY INDIANS.


77


" Halloo! Smith," cried one from the crowd,
as the last bell rang for starting, '" you are not
going to leave us in this way?"
" Yes I am," answered I from the hurricane
deck. "Your town don't pay expenses-must
go."
" But," persisted my friend on the shore, "the
people have all been holding back for the last
night. They will be greatly disappointed."
" Can't help it," I replied; " they have disappointed me five nights, and must become reconciled to my disappointing them once." And off
we went.
We made another short season in Montgomery, and then, our arrangements for traveling being completed, we wended our way through the
Creek nation into Georgia.
Adventure in the Creek Nation.
The company traveled in barouches, and the
baggage was sent in a large Pennsylvania road
wagon. We passed through the Creek nation
about five years previous to the commencement
of the disturbances which ended in sending the
Indians to Arkansas. One afternoon we halted
for refreshment at the residence of a chief, where
about one hundred Indians were assembled,
drinking and carousing. One of our number,
by name John Carter, who had undertaken to
perform the duties of general caterer for the party, purchased a gallon of milk, and the usual
quantum of sugar and rum, of which ingredients,
with the addition of a little grated nutmeg, he
was busily engaged in forming that delicious
mixture well known by Southern travelers as
milk punch. Now it happened that John had
been dreading this journey for some months,
having taken up the idea that we should most
assuredly be attacked and robbed (if not murdered) while traveling through this same Creek
nation. My brother and myself formed a plan
to have some sport out of his fears, and proceeded to execute it thus: I went to the chief, and
offered to give a dollar to four Indians who would
run a mile, and "keep up" with the Jersey wagon
which I pointed out to him, at the same time
showing him the man who was to drive. The
chief immediately agreed to the proposal, and
called four young men from their sports to give
them their instructions. While this was going
on, my brother called John mysteriously aside,
and asked him what he had been saying or doing to the Indians. " I Tiave not said a word to
them," replied John, innocently, " except to ask
them for these materials, which they furnished
me willingly, and charged a pretty good price for


too. There, taste that, and say if you don't approve of it: you won't get such a bowl of punch
as that again in a hurry, I can tell you." At this
juncture I came up and asked our worthy caterer the same question previously propounded by
my brother, and added, "The Indians seem to
have taken offense at some one of our party."
This caused John to open his eyes a little, and
his looks became somewhat disturbed. " I can't
imagine who has been saying or doing any thing
to offend them." "Nor I either," said John,
"unless the tarnal fools have taken offense at
my saying that ninepence a quart was a devilish
high price for milk."  "That's it," replied I,
"to a certainty; these natives are very tenacious of their character, and can not bear to be
charged with extortion." Here John cast some
anxious glances toward a group of Indians, who
seemed observing us attentively, and talking
aside, every now and then pointing toward John,
and then looking at the Jersey wagon which belonged to him and his family. " What do they
mean by that, I wonder? They seem to direct
their attention entirely to me and old Copp"(that was the name of the horse)-"I don't
know what to make of it, I'm sure." Thus spoke
John, while big drops of sweat began to be apparent on his brow. " I do really begin to think
they have some hostile design upon you," said I;
" and, now I think of it, I recollect an expression
of one of them, just as I passed those fellows
with the hatchets, which confirms me in the
opinion that they mean something." "What
expressin —what did the bloody-minded rascals
say?" demanded John, in a tremor of apprehension, not a little increased by certain flourishes
of hatchets by the savages, and a low murmur
which met his ear, and which his fears interpreted into a death-song. " I don't understand the
Creek language perfectly," was my reply, "but,
from what I could gather, I am disposed to think
they are highly offended at something; that tall
fellow observed to the others that ekrecrlculakahoochichopetehick-which, translated into English, means, if people don't like the price of milk,
they had better not drink it; to which that fellow
who is now looking this way replied, Chackledamnationuphillanddowntumbleum —chooh! which, as
near as I can make it out, means, they'll follow
you to the Chattahoochie River but they'll have revenge! By this time John's fears had got the
better of his love for punch, and he began to look
round for his hat and gloves. Every movement
was watched by the four savages, who had their
instructions to chase the wagon a mile. " Here
-stop a bit-I think, for fear of accidents, I'd
better be off. If you'll take care of the ladies




78


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


and pay for the punch, I'll quietly take old Copp
and put." We agreed with him that perhaps it
was best, for fear of accidents, that he should effect his escape, as he appeared to be the only one
of the party the savages had any designs against.
So, without even tasting the excellent punch he
had brewed, he slipped round the barn and put the
bridle on Captain Copp. The four Indians kept
him in view all the time, but the fugitive appeared not to notice them. When he had fairly got
the reins in his hands and mounted the Jersey,
he cast one last look toward us and the bowl of
punch, another (of quite a different kind) toward
the four hostile savages, and gave the whip to
-ld Copp. The crack of the whip was followed
by a short whoop from the Indians. Off started


me from all quarters; there was one behind every tree ready to intercept me; and then t.heir
outrageous yells and whooping-they ring in my
ears yet. I lost my hat and wig in the strife, for
at one time there were about a dozen in the
wagon endeavoring to scalp me; but, knocking
over five of the foremost of the ruthless villains,
and laying the whip boldly on to old Copp, I
managed to get out of their infernal clutches,
and am still alive."
Some days after this adventure, one of our
party asked John how many Indians he thought
there were in pursuit of him. "I can not be
certain," replied he; "'I had but little time to
think of counting them at the time; but, from a
calculation I have made since, I think that,


the Jersey, with John standing up and lashing without taking into the account the squaws and
old Copp at every jump, and off started the four papooses, who are considered non-combatants,


Indians in pursuit. Such a race has seldom been
seen in the Creek nation.
Having drunk and settled for the punch, we
pursued our journey at leisure, forming various
conjectures how far our frightened companion
would travel that night. About half a mile from
the starting-place we found John's traveling-cap,
and began to fear some accident might have befallen its owner; three quarters of a mile farther
we found the four Indians dancing in the road,
and tossing up in the air something which resembled a human scalp! " Heavens and earth!"
I exclaimed, " is it possible our foolish joke has
ended in the destruction of our poor friend?"
On approaching the Indians, our worst fears
were removed by one of them throwing us the
scalp, which turned out to be John's scratch,
that valuable article having been lost in the
race! We paid the Indians the promised dollar,
and, in return, they gave us a parting yell through
their fingers which made the pine forest ring
again.
About eight miles farther on we found our
friend sitting on a log by the road-side, the
perspiration bursting from his bald head in drops
as large as bullets; Captain Copp was in a complete foam.  "Thank God!" exclaimed the poor
fellow, as we approached, " you have escaped the
blood-thirsty savages. If General Jackson don't
take this matter up, he's not the man I take him
for, that's all." Having restored John his wig,
and removed his fears of immediate danger by
telling him we had met the Indians returning
from the chase, we began to question him concerning his miraculous escape. "Gentlemen,"
said he, " it's all owing to that glorious horse,
Captain Copp, who is the greatest animal living:
it took him to take me through the dangers of
this day, The infernal villains poured in upon


there couldn't have been much less than FIFTEEN
HUNDRED."
I could fill volumes with accounts of this and
other journeys through this then uncultivated
country; but I spare the reader all details, and
carry him straight through, barely stopping by
the way to say that we "put up" the second
night, on this particular occasion, at the BLACK
WARRIOR'S, where the warrior's wife (the war-'
rior himself being off on a hunt) gave us rather
" lenten fare," but fed our horses well; bad beds,
well peopled with fleas and bed-bugs; and made
enormous charges for our accommodation. At
Mr. Elliott's, twelve miles from Columbus, we
fared much better, being served with an excellent supper of fish, which the landlord informed
me he caught in great abundance-sometimes as
many as 300 a night-in a trap!
Sunday morning, May 20th, 1832, we crossed
the Chattahoochie Riyer, leaving Alabama behind us.
CHAPTER VIII.
GEORGIA! generous, hospitable Georgia! How
well do I remember my sensations when first entering upon your soil! It was Sunday, and the
streets of Columbus were filled with gayly-dressed citizens and Creek Indians. The arrival of a
theatrical company created a decided sensation.
" When do you open?" was the general question.
" Next Thursday," was the response.
"Where do you open?" was the next and
most natural inquiry.      I
" In the NEW THEATRE," was the brief but
somewhat puzzling reply.
Having taken possession of apartments in the




EMPLOYMENT OF INDIAN SUPERNUMERARIES.


79


Columbus Hotel, then kept by Messrs. Pomeroy
and Montague, I asked that a message should be
sent to the most expeditious contractor in the
city. A Mr. Bates soon appeared, and in twenty
minutes he had my directions. On the next Saturday the following true paragraph appeared in
one of the newspapers:
"EXPEDITION.-A theatre, 70 feet long by 40
wide, was commenced on Monday morning last
by our enterprising fellow-citizen, Mr. Bates, and
finished on Thursday afternoon, in season for the
reception of Mr. Sol. Smith's company on that
evening. A great portion of the timber, on
Monday morning, waved to the breeze in its native forest; fourscore hours afterward, its massive piles were shaken by the thunder of applause
in the crowded assemblage of men."
Here began my acquaintance-may I not say
friendship?-with Mirabeau B. Lamar, Esq., afterward President of Texas. He was a candidate
for Congress-not nominated on the ticket of
either party, but "on his own hook"-merely for
the "excitement" it afforded him. With the
same object he traveled through Texas, fought
at the battle of San Jacinto, eventually submitted his name to the people of that redeemed
country as a candidate for the highest office in
their gift, and was elected.
Unusual Ceremonies in the Temple of
the Sun.
PIZARRO was one of our most popular stock
plays. My brother Lem's Rolla was his best
tragic character; when dressed for the part he
looked every inch an Indian chief. At Columbus we produced this tragedy with real Indians
for the Peruvian army. The effect was very
striking, but there were some unrehearsed effects
not set down in the bills. I had bargained with
a chief for twenty-four Creek Indians (to furnish
their own bows, arrows, and tomahawks), at fifty
cents each and a glass of whisky. Unfortunately
for the entire success of the performance, the
whisky was paid and drank in advance, causing
a great degree of exhilaration among our new
supes. They were ranged at the back of the
theatre building, in an open lot, during the performance of the first act, and on the commencement of the second they were marshaled into the
back door, and posted upon the stage behind the
scenes. The entrance of Rolla was the signal
for a "shout" by the company, carpenters, and
scene-shifters; the Indians, supposing their time
had come, raised such a yell as I am sure had
never before been heard inside of a theatre.
This outburst being quelled, the scene between
Alonzo, Cora, and the Peruvian chief was per

mitted to proceed to its termination uninterrupted; but when the scene changed to the Temple
of the Sun, disclosing the troops of Rolla (his
"brave associates, partners of his toil, his feelings, and his fame") drawn up on each side of the
stage in battle array, the plaudits of the audience
were answered by whoops and yells that might be,
and no doubt were, heard a mile off. Order being partially restored, Rolla addressed his army,
and was greeted with another series of shouts and
yells even louder than those which had preceded.
Now came my turn to take part in the unique
performance. As High Priest of the Sun, and
followed by half a dozen virgins and as many
priests, with measured step, timed to slow music,
I emerged from behind the scenes, and "with
solemn march" perambulated the stage, in dumb
show called down a blessing on the swords of
King Ataliba and General Rolla, and in the usual impressive style, looking up into the front
gallery, commenced the Invocation to the Sun.
Before the time for the joining in of the chorus,
I found I was not entirely alone in my singing.
A humming sound, at first low and mournful,
and rising gradually to forte, greeted my ear;
and when our chorus did join in the strain, it
was quite overpowered by the rising storm of
fortissimo sounds which were issuing from the
stentorian lungs of the savages; in short, the Indians were preparing for battle by executing, in
their most approved style, the Creek war-song
and dance! To attempt stopping them we found
would be a vain task; so that, after a moment or
two of hesitation, the virgins made a precipitate
retreat to their dressing-rooms, where they carefully locked themselves in. The King, Rolla,
and Orano stood their ground, and were compelled to submit to the new order of things. The
Indians kept up their song and war-dance for
full half an hour, performing the most extraordinary feats ever exhibited on a stage, in their excitement scalping King Ataliba (taking off his
wig), demolishing the altar, and burning up the
sun! As for Lem and I (Rolla and the High
Priest), we joined in with them, and danced until the perspiration fairly rolled from our bodies
in large streams, the savages all the time flourishing their tomahawks and knives around our
heads, and performing other little playful antics
not by any means agreeable or desirable. At
last, to put an end to a scene which was becoming more and more tiresome as it proceeded, an
order was given to drop the curtain. This stroke
of policy did not stop the ceremonies, which proceeded without intermission until the savages
had finished their song and dance, when, each
receiving his promised half dollar, they consent



80


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


N
  ,,. <. 5, _


INDIAN WAR-DANCE IN THE TEMPLE OF THE SUN. (See page 79.)


ed to leave the house, and our play proceeded
without them. Next night the same troupe came
to the theatre and wanted to assist in the performance of MACBETH, but I most positively declined their "valuable aid."
After a season of two weeks, we made a move
for Macon, where another temporary theatre was
put up in little less than a week's time. Here
we performed to respectable and very discriminating audiences for about five weeks, after which
we raised the dramatic flag at the capital of the
state, Milledgeville. The theatre was erected here
as early as 1817, as I was toM; but, at the time
we took possession of it, the famed Augean stable
must have been a carpeted parlor in comparison
with it. Thirty barrels of lime were used in the
cleansing of this temple of Thespis, and even then
it always retained a rather unsavory odor. Our
visit was hailed with delight by the noble-hearted
Georgians, and for one week our audiences were
large and fashionable. It being about "Com

mencement" time at Athens, we posted off to
that classic village, where another new theatre —
built in three days-was prepared for our reception.
My brother Lem was not with us here. He
had obtained leave of absence for a brief period
to visit Cincinnati, where he performed a starring
engagement in a new theatre opened that season
by our former manager, Mr. Caldwell. He also
performed a brief engagement at Louisville.
At Athens our success was but meagre. The
exercises of "Commencement" engrossed the
public attention, and we closed our doors after a
season of one week.
At this place I experienced the great pleasure
of becoming acquainted with A. H. Pemberton,
Esq., one of the ablest editors of the state, and
author of the best Defense of the Drama which
ever came under my notice.
At a small town called Madison we " hung out
our banner" for a week, and performed in the
ballroom of a tavern kept by a Mr. Campbell, a




PRAYER OF A PIOUS COLORED MAN.


81


large fat man-" fat as butter"-who fed and
slept us well, and charged us accordingly. Total
receipts for the week, $205! The barber who
shaved me in this village, a very black negro, had a
light mulatto wife. They had several children of
the proper shade of color, and one, the youngest,
almost white. Being asked the reason of the last
child's being so much whiter than the others, the
barber very innocently answered that it was all
owing to his wife's having followed the advice of
a white lady during her pregnancy, and taken a
great deal of magnesia and chalk to cure the dyspepsia.
Our fat landlord was a very religious individual-a great hand at revivals and camp-meetings
-and it was only by dint of hard persuasion the
town's people could obtain his consent to receive
into his hall the sinful actors. But it so turned
out that Mr. Boniface, after taking a few peeps
behind the scenes, became greatly taken with the
plays, so much so that one night he boldly walked
into the front among the audience and took a
conspicuous seat, determined to "see it out."
The people welcomed him with a round of applause which he did not take to himself, but,
turning around before seating himself, he said,
" Oho! you talk of my making a noise at campmeetings-I've got you now-you make a plaguy
deal more noise here at the show than I ever did
there." Another " round" greeted our fat landlord, and the curtain went up.
Our next town was Monticello, where we performed in the dining-room of Mr. Stovall, and
occupied one of his best parlors for a greenroom.
Receipts for the week precisely the same as at
Madison, after paying $25 tax, which the commissioners demanded for the privilege of leaving
about $100 more in their town than we received.
We had here one auditor, a constant attendant,
who evidently appreciated our performances-a
cat! Every night she found her way into the
theatre, and, seating herself immediately in front
of the foot-lights, watched and listened to the
performances from beginning to end!
We returned to MilledgevillE and performed
two weeks with poor success, closing on the 1st
of September.
Opened at Macon Monday, September 3d, and
performed one week only; after which we pushed
on to Columbus, where we managed to stay three
weeks, the policy being to pass the time away
until the meeting of the Legislature in Milledgeville.
Being up and out on a walk early one morning-this was at Macon-I strolled to the Methodist Church, where I heard singing. Stepping
in and taking a seat, I found assembled six negro
F


men, one mulatto girl, and two white men. A
lazy-looking young fellow, one of the white men,
seemed to conduct the affair, asking his white
brethren and black brethren to pray alternately.
I staid to hear one white and one black prayer,
and it is difficult to say which was better of the
two. The black man prayed in something like
the following words:
"O most holy and significant Fader! thou
spencer of ebery precious and deliberate gift,
look down on your poor miserable children, and
bless us with thy sacred and devoted power-if
it be thy will. O most holy Fader, we humbly
pray for the instigation of thy wrath throughout
dis deboted land; bless all who hab turned out
to dis praar meetin' and dem dat habn't-if it be
thy will. May thy mercy and vengeance smile
upon our white bredren, who are prayin' and
preachin' for us poor sinners, and in reliance
upon the precious blood of Jesus Christ-if it be
thy will. O bless de poor heden, ahd larn dem
to examine de doctrines of thy Word, which is a
sharp two-pointed sword, goin' out of the mouth
of dy servants-if it be thy will. May de Gospel
spread like de cholera through de earth, spreading vastation and castigation around-if it be thy
will. We pray thee, O holy Christ, the fader of
the 'maculate Virgin Mary, to cleanse us ob our
sins, and scrub us with the scrubbin'-brush ob
corruption, till we are the sanguine dye of thy
holy truth; and though our sins be as wool, may
dey be made white as scarlet with thy most precious lamb, which was killed on Mount Sinai for
our sallivation-if it be thy will. And, 0 most
holy Jesus, send thy Spirit upon us this morning, that we may sing thy praise and worship
thee with meekness and compunctuation; and
when we give up our immortal existence in this
immaculate world, wilt thou receive us to thy
bosom-if it be thy will-when we will gib all de
glory, and honor, and power to our holy medidator and.Savior foreber and eber after-Amen."
During our stay at Columbus, at the earnest
solicitations of a Mr. Childers, he was permitted
to make his " first appearance on any stage" as
Tony Lumpkin, which he performed tolerably
well for a new beginner. His figure was better
fitted for Don Quixote than the character he
chose for his opening, being very lean and bony;
but Tony Lumpkin he had studied, and Tony
Lumpkin he played. After the performance he
made a regular application for a situation in the
company. I declined entering into the proposed
engagement, and wrote him a long letter, urging
him not to persist in his determination to become
an actor, and advising him to continue his studies
in the law. With great reluctance he followed
my advice, became in time an eminent lawyer in
Alabama, and died many years afterward in Mobile, of which city he was once elected mayor.
Returned to Macon, and performed a very few
nights to very small audiences; but remained a




82


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


couple of weeks, it being considered quite useless
to open in Milledgeville so early in the season.
Time hanging heavy on my hands, as the saying
is, I entered into a little " speculation," just for
amusement, which I will now proceed to relate.
Speculation in Whiskers.
There lived in Macon a dandified individual
whom I shall call Jenks. This individual had a
tolerably favorable opinion of his personal appearance. His fingers were hooped with rings,
and his shirt bosom was decked with a magnificent breastpin  coat, hat, vest, and boots were
made exactly to fit; he wore kid gloves of remarkable whiteness; his hair was oiled and
dressed in the latest and best style; and, to complete his killing appearance, he sported an enormous pair of real whiskers! Of these whiskers
Jenks was as proud as a young cat is of her tail
when she first discovers she has one.
I was sitting one day in a broker's office when
Jenks came in to inquire the price of exchange
on New York. He was invited to sit down, and
a cigar was offered him. Conversation turning
on the subject of buying and selling stocks, a remark was made by a gentleman present that he
thought no person should sell out stock in suchand-such a bank at that time, as it must get better in a few days.
" I will sell any thing I've got, if I can make
any thing on it," replied Jenks.
"' Oh no," replied one," not any thing; you
wouldn't sell your whiskers!"
A loud laugh followed this chance remark.
Jenks immediately answered, "I would; but
who would want them? Any person making
the purchase would lose money by the operation,
I'm thinking."
"Well," I observed, " I would be willing to
take the speculation, if the price could be made
reasonable. "
"Oh, I'll sell 'em cheap," answered Jenks,
winking at the gentlemen present.
"What do you call cheap?" I inquired.
"I'll sell 'em for fifty dollars," Jenks answered, puffing forth a cloud of smoke across the
counter, and repeating the wink.
"Well, that is cheap; and you'll sell your
whiskers for fifty dollars?"
" I will."
"Both of them?"
" Both of them."
"I'll take them! When can I have them?"
"Any time you choose to call for them."
"Very well-they're mine. I think I shall
double my money on them, at least."


I took a bill of sale as follows:
" Received of Sol. Smith Fifty Dollars in full
for my crop of whiskers, to be worn, and taken
care of by me, and delivered to him when called
for.                          J. JENEKS."
The sum of fifty dollars was paid, and Jenks
left the broker's office in high glee, flourishing
five Central Bank X's, and telling all his acquaintances of the great bargain he had made in
the sale of his whiskers.
The broker and his friends laughed at me for
being taken in so nicely.  "Never mind," said
I; " let those laugh that win; I'll make a profit
out of those whiskers, depend on it."
For a week after this, whenever I met Jenks,
he asked me when I intended to call for my
whiskers.
"I'll let you know when I want them, " was always my answer.  " Take good care of the —
oil them occasionally; I shall call for them one
of these days."
A splendid ball was to be given. I ascertained that Jenks was to be one of the managershe being a great ladies' man (on account of his
whiskers, I suppose), and it occurred to me that
before the ball took place I might as well call for
my whiskers.
One morning I met Jenks in a barber's shop.
He was Adonising before a large mirror, and
combing up my whiskers at a devil of a rate.
"Ah! there you are, old fellow," said he,
speaking to my reflection through the glass.
"Come for your whiskers, I suppose?"
" Oh, no hurry," I replied, as I sat down for a
shave.
"Always ready, you know," he answered,
giving a final tie to his cravat.
"Come to think of it," I said, musingly, as
the barber began to put the lather on my face,
" perhaps now would be as good a time as another; you may sit down and let the barber try
his hand at the whiskers."
"You couldn't wait until to-morrow, could
you?" he asked, hesitatingly. " There's a ball
to-night, you know-"
" To be sure there is, and I think you ought
to go with a clean face; at all events, I don't
see any reason why you should expect to wear
my whiskers to that ball, so sit down."
He rather sulkily obeyed, and in a few moments his cheeks were in a perfect foam of
lather. The barber flourished his razor, and
was about to commence operations, when I suddenly changed my mind.
"Stop, Mr. Barber," I said, "you needn't
shave off those whiskers just yet." So he quickly put up his razor, while Jenks started up from




SHAVING OPERATION IN A BROKER'S OFFICE.


83


the chair in something very much resembling a
passion.
"This is trifling!" he exclaimed.  "You
have claimed your whiskers-take them."
"I believe a man has a right to do as he
pleases with his own property," I remarked, and
left Jenks washing his face.
At dinner that day the conversation turned
upon the whisker affair. It seems the whole
town had got wind of it, and Jenks could not
walk the streets without the remark being continually made by the boys, "There goes the man
with old Sol's whiskers!" And they had grown
to an immense size, for he dared not trim them.
In short, I became convinced Jenks was waiting
very impatiently for me to assert my rights in
the property. It happened that several of the
party were sitting opposite me at dinner who
were present when the singular bargain was
made, and they all urged me to take the whiskers
that very day, and thus compel Jenks to go to
the ball whiskerless, or stay at home. I agreed
with them it was about time to reap my crop,
and promised that if they would all meet me at
the broker's shop where the purchase had been
made, I would make a call on Jenks that evening, after he had dressed for the ball. All promised to be present at the proposed shaving operation in the broker's office, and I sent for Jenks
and the barber. On the appearance of Jenks it
was evident he was much vexed at the sudden
call upon him, and his vexation was certainly
not lessened when he saw the broker's office was
filled to overflowing by spectators anxious to behold the barberous proceeding.
" Come, be in a hurry," he said, as he took a
seat, and leaned his head against the counter for
support; " I can't stay here long; several ladies
are waiting for me to escort them to the ball."
"True, very true-you are one of the managers-I recollect. Mr. Barber, don't detain the
gentleman; go to work at once."
The lathering was soon over, and with about
three strokes of the razor one side of his face
was deprived of its ornament.
"Come, come," said Jenks, "push ahead;
there is no time to be lost: let the gentleman
have his whiskers-he is impatient."
"Not at all," I replied, coolly, "I'm in no
sort of a hurry myself-and, now I think of it,
as your time must be precious at this particular
moment, several ladies being in waiting for you
to escort them to the ball, I believe I'll not take
the other whisker to-night."
A loud laugh from the by-standers, and a
glance in the mirror, caused Jenks to open his
eyes to the ludicrous appearance he cut with a


single whisker, and he began to insist upon my
taking the whole of my property! But all wouldn't
do. I had a right to take it when I chose; I
was not obliged to take all at once, and I chose to
take but half at that particular period; indeed,
I intimated to him very plainly that I was not
going to be a very hard creditor, and that, if he
"behaved himself," perhaps I should never call
for the balance of what he owed me!
When Jenks became convinced I was determined not to take the remaining whisker, he began, amid the loudly-expressed mirth of the
crowd, to propose terms of compromise, first offering me ten dollars, then twenty, thirty, forty
-fifty! to take off the remaining whisker. I
said, firmly, "My dear sir, there is no use talking; I insist on your wearing that whisker for
me for a month or two."
" What will you take for the whiskers?" he at
length asked.  "Won't you sell them back to
me?"
"Ah!" replied I, "now you begin to talk as
a business-man should. Yes; I bought them on
speculation; I'll sell them if I can obtain a good
price."
"What is your price?"
"One hundred dollars-must double my money."
"Nothing less?"
"Not a farthing less-and I'm not anxious to
sell even at that price."
" Well, I'll take them," he groaned; " there's
your money; and here, barber, shave off this
d-d infernal whisker in less than no time: I
shall be late at the ball."
Near the end of October we opened the Milledgeville Theatre for the season, hoping great
things from the fact that the Legislature was
soon to meet. My brother Lem rejoined me
here, and the season commenced auspiciously.
During our journeyings the past summer we
were accompanied nearly thewhole time byMirabeau B. Lamar, Esq., who was a candidate for
Congress, and who received a very large vote,
but was not elected, not being on either the
Union or State Rights ticket. I have never in
my life rhet a more gentlemanly man. He was
a good speaker-rather too vehement in his manner, perhaps; but, being well read, and possessing a good face and person, he enchained the attention of his auditors. He was at that time
rather dyspeptic, but seemed to enjoy life reasonably. He could appreciate a joke and a good
dinner; had Shakspeare' at his tongue's end, and
could quote him correctly and at pleasure; fenced
well, and was otherwise highly accomplished.




8i


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


Finally, he was a great lover of the stage. I dedicated a book to him, and on his marriage in
* 1851 (nearly twenty years after the events I am
noting) he promised to name his first child after
me; but, unfortunately, it turned out to be a girl,
and the idea of naming her "Solomon" was given
up at once.
During this season we produced the play of
THERESE, translated from the French by John
Howard Payne, and I must say I have never to
this day seen it so well played as by the " Georgia company." My wife personated the part of
Mariette, and my brother that of Carwin. It is
not in my province to speak of the talents of my
wife and brother (now no more), but, as they both
occupied, while living, a prominent place in the
drabnatic company of which I was manager, and
as many persons in Georgia may yet live who
have seen them act, it may not be amiss to insert
here a brief extract from a criticism published in
one of the newspapers of the day, written (I am
permitted to say now, though I did not know it
at the time) by Gen. Lamar:
" Mr. Lem. Smith has the advantage of a fine
person (he beats his brother in that), a good eye,
and a flexible voice, not of the greatest compass,
but sufficiently strong to be heard distinctly.
He succeeds equally alike in comedy or tragedy,
and extremely well in both; conceiving his
characters properly, and never overstepping the
modesty of nature. His powers, we think, are
considerable, and his genius versatile. There is
much refinement in his manners when in comedy, and much dignity and force in his appearance in higher characters, such as Tell. We have
seen him in a great variety of parts, and find it
difficult to decide in which his success is greatest."
"One we have yet to name-the star of her
profession-it would be censurable not to hold
up to the admiration of our readers, as she has
often presented herself to her gratified audience.
We mean Mrs. Smith. It is far from our intention to enter into any minute analysis of her
acting-setting forth her peculiarities; lauding
what is good, and apologizing for what is otherwise, but shall speak of her merit in the aggregate, reserving our more detailed and definite
criticism for some future number. To say that
she is a first-rate actress would be giving her
nothing more than her due, but we should probably not be believed, because she had not been
brought up at the Park or at Drury Lane. Stars
we have seen of the first magnitude who have
shone with unrivaled lustre upon both these
boards, and can say that they have afforded us
no greater pleasure than we have derived from
the performances of Mrs. Smith. If it be at all
true that the merit of an actress may be justly
estimated by the effect which she produces, her
claims will be found inferior to few; for we have
never yet heard the first person declare himself
disappointed or dissatisfied-we have never seen


one who did not admit that she always had a
just conception of the part she played-that she
entered deeply into the spirit and feelings of the
character she represented, and that her look,
gesture, and attitude were always graceful, natural, and appropriate; and if these, added to
other qualities' which she possesses-a melodious voice and eloquent delivery-do not constitute the perfection of the histrionic art, then we
are at a loss to know what does. All these excellencies are universally conceded to her. In
what character she succeeds best we could never
decide for ourselves; she seems to be qualified
by her versatility equally for the grave and the
gay-' for farce, comedy, and tragedy.' We saw
her once, on a benefit night, in the SOLDIER'S
DAUGHTER, and concluded she appeared best in
that part; but when she subsequently appeared
in the ORPHAN OF GENEVA, we thought no character became her as Therese, and now our present
decision is that her greatest efforts have been in
Elvira."
While I am about it, it may be as well to give
the general's opinion of myself, particularly as I
think it is a tolerably correct one in the main.
Here it is, segregated from the same article the
foregoing extracts are taken from:
" Now then for 'Old Sol.' But, before entering upon the trial of this ' head and front' of the
battalion, it may be proper to settle a preliminary question upon which his acquittal or condemnation chiefly rests. The heart will sometimes laugh in defiance of the sober decrees of
the head, and when this is the case, which is in
the right? Who has not had his risibility irresistibly excited by a joke which his judgment
could not sanction? Shall the joke therefore be
condemned? 'That is the question.' We answer, no. Now this is exactly ' Old Sol's' situation. His acting we can not approve as being
always in good taste, yet he will extort the laugh
from us in despite of our disapprobation. Shall
we therefore condemn him? We answer, no.
Our objection to him as an actor is, that he often
lowers comedy to a farce, and brings farce to the
borders of buffoonery. The approbation which
we have to bestow is that which we have just
admitted-his absolute dominion over our risible propensities. He never fails to accomplish
the end and aim of all comic performances, that
of exciting involuntary laughter and applause.
This, however, is not his only merit. He possesses a lively fancy and a good fund of original
wit, which enable him to introduce many seasonable jokes, acceptable to all, and offensive to
none. This practice, it is true, is liable to abuse,
and stands reprobated by authority. no less than
Shakspeare; but, with all due deference to the
Bard of Avon, we must still adhere to our infallible rule, to censure nothing and praise all that
produces a happy effect; by virtue of which ' Old
Sol' is entitled to our high commendation and a
full absolution for all faults, which we do hereby freely award him."
On the 12th of December the tragedy of
DOUGLAS was performed, it being the LAST AP



THE TRAVELING COMPANY DISBANDED.


85


PEARANCE OF MY BROTHER, who personated the
character of Glenalvon.
[In an appendix to this volume I propose to
give some account of the MURDER of my beloved
young brother.]
The season in Milledgeville was brought to a
close on the 23d of December, the Legislature
adjourning about the same time. The actual
profits of the six months preceding this date are
set down, in a business memorandum I kept at
the time, at $1500, which sum, considering the
labor performed, the journeys made, and wear
and tear of the constitution, can not be considered over payment for the services of my wife and
myself.
Macon was again tried on our way to Alabama,
where we received for twenty-four nights' performances, in a cold theatre, $1580, being an
average of about $66 per night-and this was
considered good business.
Passing on toward Montgomery, our next
stopping-place was Columbus, where we acted
two weeks to an average nightly receipt of $56,
closing on the 9th of February, 1833.
I purchased in Columbus some real estate at a
cost of about $2000, which raised on my hands,
and was eventually sold for nearly $20,000.
On Saturday, 16th of February, our standard
was raised in Montgomery, Alabama, to a house
of $140. The people appeared well pleased at
our return. Business continued good here, and
several "stars" (so called) shone forth during
the season-Mrs. Knight and Mr. Forbes among
the rest. My theatrical year ended on the 22d
of March.
I subjoin a statement of the actual result of
this year's "journey-work" in dollars and cents,
as it appears in my cash-book of that day:
We must have traveled at least 5000 miles
during the year. All traveling expenses were
paid by the manager.
Total receipts-46 weeks-$20,885. Average
per week, $454; per night, counting the actual
number of nights played, to wit, 262 nights,
$79 70. Profits of the year about $4000.
Mr. and Mrs. Lyons joined me at this time,
and the season was prolonged a week, after
which the theatre closed with my benefit, which
was very largely attended.
CHAPTER IX.
AT the conclusion of this season I resolved to
gratify a desire, long entertained, of visiting Cincinnati, the home of my brothers and numerous
other relations. The company being disbanded,


Messrs. Palmer and Lyons, members of the late
organization, proposed to rent the Georgia theatres, and I consented to give them the use of my
wardrobe and properties, with the understanding
that, if they were successful in their speculation,
they should have the privilege of purchasing my
interest in the circuit at a given price; but if
unsuccessful, they should return the properties in
the ensuing fall. The result of this attempt of
Messrs. P. and L. will appear hereafter.
Leaving the new managers to push their fortunes in the South, I made my way, with my
family, toward Cincinnati, where we proposed to
spend the summer; not, however, until Mrs. S.
and myself had performed a short starring engagement in Mobile, under the management of
Mr. Purdy Brown. I could relate hundreds of
anecdotes relative to Manager Brown, but do not
feel much disposed that way. A few lines must
comprise all I have to say about him.
Manager Brown.
Mr. Brown's knowledge of theatrical matters
was extremely limited; consequently, he was liable to be imposed upon by the actors, who, as a
class, are never backward in furthering a joke.
Mr. B. appeared on the stage occasionally, and
when he did it was generally his wish to enact
some important character-some person of rank
in the drama-it being very much against the
grain to appear as a supernumerary. Reading
plays not being much in his way, he was in the
habit of asking the actors what characters they
thought would best suit him, and he was generally advised to study such parts as Count Luneda
in the BROKEN SWORD, Timoleon in the GRECIAN DAUGHTER, Beverly's Uncle in the GAMESTER, and others of that sort. When, after a
diligent search, poor Brown informed his friend,
the actor who had advised him, that no such character could be found in the play, he was gravely
informed that he had been searching in the
wrong edition!
Manager B. had an abiding faith in horsesindeed, he had good reason for his faith-they
never deceived him or played practical jokes
upon him. Whenever he perceived that a play
-be it tragedy, comedy, or melodrama-appeared to " drag;" or, to speak more intelligibly,
to "hang fire;" or, to make the expression still
more easily understood by the general reader,
"go off dull," he ordered out his whole stud of
horses and circus riders, and sent them on "to
end the piece." Thus it is said (I confess I did
not see this) that on the occasion of the performance of the SOLDIER'S DAUGHTER he sent on his




86


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


circus troupe, dressed as Turks or Arabs, who stage, at the head of a troop of devils with pitchperformed a " grand entree" on the stage, driv- forks, to torment him until his numerous sins are
ing tke Widow Cheerly, Governor Heartall, and burnt and purged away, as Shakspeare says."
company down to the foot-lights, where they were As I was leaving the theatre, the manager folobliged to stand for a mortal half hour and wit- lowed me to the back door, and asked me to reness the cavalry evolutions, the whole winding peat some direction I had given relative to the
up with a grand tableau, illuminated by red banquet in the pantomime. He afterward said
fire!                                        something which induced me to think he wished
Mr. B., on one occasion, was compelled to as- to carry on the joke about the demons I had
sist in the performance of DAMON AND PYTHIAS spoken of, to be stationed under the stage.
-the company being short in numbers -and,      "How many demons did you say, Mr. Smith?"
finding the character which he chose (Dionysius he asked.
-King Dionysius) too long for his study, which  "A dozen will do," I replied, laughing.
was none of the best, he was prevailed on to take  " Yes, a dozen on the stage, I know; but how
that of Procles, which he was told was a sort of many of those tormenting fellows underneath?"
Captain in the Syracusan service. He proposed  " Oh," I answered, "as many as you like;
to act the part on horseback; but Webb, who the more the better; and be sure you have plenwas the Damon, dissuaded him from this, and ty of red fire."
the worthy manager consented to do it on foot.  " Never fear that," he replied, as he turned to
Some wag, to whom he applied for advice as to go away.
the manner of acting the part, told him that   Scaramouch is not a very easy character to
Procles was a fierce and spirited warrior, and perform, particularly when attempted by one like
when he was spoken to by Damon in the streets myself, unused to gymnastic feats; so that when
of Syracuse, and branded as a traitor, he should I had gone through the dancing, the shipwreck,
seize the senator by the throat. At the proper the riding on a dolphin, the eating of maccaroni,
time, placing himself at the head of the super- the frights at seeing the ghost on horseback, and
numerary soldiers, " high heaped with arms and other little incidental exercises, and had bid goodplunder," he rushed upon the stage with his by to my master, the Don, in the grave-yard, it
shouting troops. When Webb, as Damon, came may be supposed that I lost no time, " distilled
to these words,                             with fear" and perspiration as I was, in hasten"And thou,        lug to my dressing-room, with the view of disWho standest foremost of these knaves,     robing as quickly as circumstances would permit.
Stand back and answer me-what have ye done?"  I had in part accomplished this, and was busily
Captain Procles looked daggers at him, but re- engaged in rubbing the upper part of my perstrained himself so far as to wait for his " cue," spiring body with a coarse towel, when the callwhich receiving at length in these words,   boy knocked violently at the door, and begged
"Thou most contemptible and meanest tool  me to step down to the stage, as the manager
That ever tyrant used,"                 wished to see me particularly. Throwing a cloak
he rushed upon Damon like a tiger, seizing him  about me, I hastened to the late scene of action,
by the throat, and holding his neck between his nearly suffocated with the smoke from the red
hands as in a vice. Webb struggled and swore fire, which was ascending in thick volumes, and
-in vain! "Let me loose! you are strangling found, on looking down the trap, that my friend
me!" exclaimed the infuriated Damon, in a Brown was there with thirty or forty fiends, all
hoarse whisper. " Of course I am," answered dressed in red flannel, and armed with pitchforlks,
Procles; "it is the business of the part!"  And waiting for the descent of Don Juan!  It seems
it was not until Pythias interfered in his be- that, in the concluding scene of the pantomime,
half that he could be persuaded to loosen his the performer who enacted the part of Don Juan
hold.                                       (Mr. Heyl), finding a thick column of " sulphurOn the last night of our engagement I enacted ous and tormenting flames" ascending through
Scaramouch, in the pantomime of DON JUAN. In the trap-door, would not consent to be "plunged
the last scene the amorous Don is seized by de- in," as required by the stage direction, but, on
mons and cast into the infernal regions, as the the contrary, had burst from the supernumerary
bills have it, through a trap-door. At rehearsal, fiends and escaped to his dressing-room. The
I told the manager that about twelve demons curtain was lowered, and the piece was considwould be required at the wings to seize Don ered ended by all but the worthy manager, who.Juan, and cast him down the trap. "And" (I was in the regions below, with his army of fiends,
iadded in a joke) " you must be ready under the waiting for his victim. It was some time before




CINDERELLA IN NEW ORLEANS.


87


he could be persuaded to abandon his post, and
not until he had declared his determination to
discharge the contumacious actor who had refused to take the "fatal plunge."
Mr. Edwin Forrest passed through Mobile
while we were there, on his way to New Orleans.
Ten years had elapsed since we had parted in
Lexington, Ky., he to join Mr. Caldwell at the
South, I to commence my managerial career in
Cincinnati.
We were succeeded by Mr. James Wallackthe Wallack-the very best Iago I ever saw-I
can not pay him a higher compliment. I witnessed his performance of Rolla and Dick Dashall, considered by the public as his best characters. Ah! what an actor he was! To see his
personation of Don Caesar de Bazan was worth
a pilgrimage to New York.
On board the steamer Ohio, Captain Haggerty, I embarked with my family at Mobile on the
l 1th of May, 1833, bound for Cincinnati by way
of the Gulf of Mexico and the Mississippi River.
Arrived at New Orleans the next day without
accident.
We remained in New Orleans two days and
nights, and had the opportunity-which we improved, of course-of witnessing the performance
of the GLADIATOR (for Forrest's benefit), and
CINDERELLA on the first appearance of Madame
Brichta. Mr. J. M. Field, a young actor of considerable promise, enacted Phasarius, the secondary part in the GLADIATOR, and the next
night appeared as the Prince in CINDERELLA.
The production of CINDERELLA at New Orleans formed an era in theatrical annals. Though
a hodge-podge (made up of Rossini's original
work of the same name and other productions
of that composer, WILLIAM TELL being largely
drawn upon), it was the first attempt at the
grand opera in the English language at the
South. All previous attempts had been confined
to what is termed the comic opera -the BARBER OF SEVILLE (an English adaptation), MARRIAGE OF FIGARO, LOVE IN A VILLAGE, DEVIL'S BRIDGE, etc. The cast of CINDERELLA, as
originally produced in New Orleans this season,
was as follows:
Prince..................Mr. Field.
Dandini................Mr. Caldwell,
Baron Pompolino.......Mr. Thorne.
Alidoro................ Mr. Iforgethisname.
Pedro.................. Mr. Russell.
Cinderella..............Miss Jane Placide.
Clorinda...............Mrs. Russell.
Thisbe..................Mrs. Rowe.
Fairy Queen............Miss Nelson.
Thus cast, and with the advantage of beautiful


scenery and appointments, its success was very
great.
This year Mr. Caldwell sold out his managerial
interests to Messrs. Russell and Rowe, and turned
his attention to lighting the city with gas.
On the 16th we re-embarked on the Ohio,
and off we steered for Cincinnati. It is not my
purpose to attempt a description of the scenes
witnessed on this boat - the CHOLERA raging!
Nevertheless, I will briefly notice a few incidents.
After supper, the second day out, I counted eight
card-tables, surrounded by persons playing the
game' of "brag!" At the same time persons
were scattered around the floor and in the staterooms groaning, complaining, beseeching for assistance - dying with the cholera! In one instance I saw a man fall from his chair in a fit,
clenching his cards in his hands, and die in a
few minutes! Another fell back on the floor
from the card-table, was taken up senseless, and
carried to his state-room, where he lingered until
the next day, and then died, having in the interim made his will, disposing of a very large property in Virginia. This last one I became slightly acquainted with, and rendered him all the
assistance I could. Just before he died we put
him into a warm bath, which seemed to revive
him very much. When we laid him on his mattress, he looked up into my face and asked,
" What is your real opinion, Mr. Smith? Will
I get over this?"
I answered, "Upon my word, I think you will;
you are evidently much better." This was my
most candid opinion.
"II am glad-I am glad to hear you say so,"
he responded faintly, looking up into my face
with a smile; and with that smile on his face he
almost instantly ceased breathing.
The sick Frenchman.
In nearly every voyage I make, especially if
there be sickness among the passengers, I get the
name of Doctor, probably from the fact that I am
always willing to lend a hand to assist the sick.
It was so in this case. Captain Haggerty, the
clerk, and myself seemed to be the only persons
on board who knew any thing about the medicine-chest, and the quantities proper for a dose
of the various articles therein contained. A little Frenchman, as healthy a man as there was
on board of the boat, took it into his head that
he was attacked by cholera, and sent for me to
attend to his case.
"Oh, Docteur, Monsieur Docteur!" he exclaimed, " I am vaire sick-much malade! My
stomach vaire much ache! Do sometings for




88


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


me, docteur, do sometings vaire much quick, for
I sal die-oh!"
I found his pulse regular, and became convinced he was in excellent health. I told him
so, and for a time he appeared reassured; but
presently he sent for me again, and begged me
in the most piteous tones to do " sometings" for
him. Satisfied that nothing ailed the man but
fright, I went to the medicine-chest and made
him up a pill of gum arabic, which I requested
him to swallow, assuring him that he would soon
be better. For about two hours this seemed to
quiet my little Frenchman, and I was at liberty
to attend to other cases. When next called to
Monsieur he said he felt a little better, but
"weak from the operation of de medecin."
"The pill has operated, then?" I remarked.
"Oui, oui-operate vaire much-make me sleep
-ah ha! Un opiate, ha?"
I let him think it was an opiate, and telling
him to keep quiet during the night, left him.
The following morning my patient seemed much
better, and partook of a hearty breakfast and a
large portion of a bottle of claret. Card-playing
continued during the day, and Monsieur took a
hand, losing considerable money. He retired
early, and I was in hopes he had entirely recovered from his fright, and that I should not be
called on to attend him any more; but I was
mistaken. He was not at supper, and hearing a
groaning in his state-room as I passed, I opened
the door and looked in. There lay my little
Frenchman, writhing with pain, and evidently
experiencing the effects of the " premonitory
symptoms" pretty strongly.
" Ah! Monsieur Docteur," he said, as he saw
me coming in, "I am vaire glad you come; I
have got him now certainement; you must give
me some leetle peel encore; I sal die if you
don't give me sometings vaire quick!"
Poor fellow! he had the dreaded disease beyond a doubt-the symptoms were unmistakable.
Feeling his pulse, and saying a few encouraging
words, I left him to make up a dose a little more
efficient than gum arabic, for I was convinced he
had frightened himself into the cholera. While
preparing the medicine, a crash was heard that
seemed to shake the boat to the very centre.
At first all supposed an explosion had taken
place. Confusion reigned for a few minutes, the
passengers rushing hither and thither in " wild
disorder." My first care, of course, was for my
wife and children, the latter being at the time
eating their supper at the second table. The
crash was caused by the breaking of the flywheel, the fragments of which were thrown with
great force through the cabin floor and hurricane


roof, scattering the dishes on the supper-table,
as well as pieces of the table itself, in every direction. It providentially happened that no one
was hurt. My boys I found seated on the brink
of the chasm where the table had been. The
oldest boy, then five years of age, was holding
an empty saucer in his hand, and when he saw
me he exclaimed, "Pa, look here; they've spilt
all my coffee!"
But to return to my patient-I found him
busily engaged dressing himself.
"By gar, Monsieur Docteur," said he, "I sal
not stay on dis boat any longer; such dam crashing I never sal hear again no more nevaire; did
you hear him? It was like heaven and earth
sal be coming togedder!"
"It was a tremendous crash,"I replied. "The
fly-wheel is broken-can not be mended short of
Pittsburg; the passengers are most of them preparing to leave."
"Leave! leave! I believe you, Monsieur
Docteur," he said, as he proceeded with his
toilet; " I sal no stay one moment, by gar; I
sal be off in de first boat, ha! I sal not stay in
dis d-n cholera boat any more at all."
A boat bound up the river was by this time
alongside, and nearly all were making their arrangements to go on her.
"How do you feel now, Monsieur?" I at
length inquired, when he had finished dressing.
" Here is the medicine I have prepared for you;
will you take it?"
" Take de medecin?" he answered; "no, by
gar, I want no medecin. I am well-tres bien
-never sal be better in my life."
"What! not got the cholera?" I inquired.
"No, by d-n: dat confounded crash knock
de cholera out of me, tout de suite!"
And so it had; fright had brought it on, and
fright had sent it off. I met him afterward in
Cincinnati. He shook me warmly by the hand,
and thanked me for my doctorly care, but declared that if it had not been for that "grand
crash," he should have been a dead man to a
certainty, and I firmly believe he was right in his
opinion.
It was during this trip, and before the "crash,"
that I witnessed a game of faro, in which a negro
man named Fred was staked and played for. A
negro trader, having lost all his ready money, offered to stake his servant on the game. The
dealer agreed to this, and Fred was ordered by
his'master to mount the table and stand upcn
the ace. During the game he was " split" twice
-got "out of split," being ordered to move
about on the various cards to suit his master's




A FLOATING THEATRE.~


89


views-and at last was lost on the corner of the I Francis, the servant of the misanthropic Count


deuce! The dealer very quietly told Fred to
step down on his side of the table, and the negro
was thus transferred to a new owner!
It was soon ascertained that the damages sustained by the boat could not be repaired without
going to Pittsburg, and during the night all the
cabin passengers except a Mrs. Miller, her sister,
and our family, took their departure on various
boats. Next morning Captain Haggerty announced to his few remaining passengers that in
a day or two he thought the boat could proceed
with one wheel. We concluded to abide by the
fortunes of the vessel, and I believe it was well
for us that we did, for the cholera entirely disappeared with the crowd of passengers, and all on
board enjoyed health the remainder of the journey, arriving at Louisville on the 30th of May.
Arrived at Cincinnati on the 1st day of June,
just three weeks out from Mobile, and met a
most cordial reception from our numerous (almost innumerable) relatives and friends.
The great pleasure derived from meeting with
my relations and friends at Cincinnati on this
occasion, and always, may be mentioned, but it
is not a subject to interest the general reader, so
I pass on, in my skimming way, to theatrical
matters.
The Columbia Street Theatre was open, under
the management of Messrs. Cabell, Forrest, and
Muzzy. A Mr. Judah was playing as a " star."
Went to see him enact Richard III. Have
seen better Richards-and worse. Witnessed
Fletcher's representation of Ancient Statuary.
Very good. Also witnessed the extraordinary
acting of Monsieur (!) Gouffe, the "Man Monkey," for the first time.
One of the most comic pieces of acting ever
witnessed by me was Mr.Wm. S. Forrest's personation of Alonzo, in the REVENGE, at this theatre.
A Floating Theatre.
The "Chapman family," consisting of old
Mr. Chapman,William Chapman, George Chapman, Caroline Chapman, and Harry and Therese
Chapman (children), came to the West this summer, opened a theatre at Louisville, and afterward established and carried into operation that
singular affair, the " Floating Theatre," concerning which so many anecdotes are told. The
" family" were all extremely fond of fishing, and
during the "waits" the actors amused themselves by " dropping a line" over the stern of the
ark. On one occasion, while playing the STRANGER (Act iv., Scene 1), there was a long wait for


Walbourgh.
"Francis! Francis!" called the Stranger.
No reply.
"Francis! Francis!" (a pause:) " Francis!"
rather angrily called the Stranger again.
A very distant voice-" Coming, sir!" (a considerable pause, during which the Stranger walks
up and down, a la Macready, in a great rage.)
" Francis!"
Francis (entering). Here I am, sir.
Stran. Why did you not come when I called?
Francis. Why, sir, I was just hauling in one
of the d-dest big catfish you ever saw!
It was some minutes before the laughter of the
audience could be restrained sufficiently to allow
the play to proceed.
It is said of this Floating Theatre that it was
cast loose during a performance at one of the
river towns in Indiana by some mischievous boys,
and could not be landed for half a dozen miles,
the large audience being compelled to walk back
to their village.
The season at the theatre in Third Street, under the management of Messrs. Russell and Rowe,
successors of Mr. Caldwell, commenced on the
15th of June. The company consisted of Messrs.
Scott, Field, Russell, Judah, Page, Hernizen,
Charnock, Lyne, Powell, Gilbert, Thorne; Mrs.
Rowe, Mrs. Russell, Mrs. Ludlow, Mrs. Salzman,
Miss Petrie.
Mr. Edwin Forrest commenced an engagement on the 17th of June.
The Ravel family appeared during this season,
and the opera of CINDERELLA was produced,
Mrs. Knight playing the part of Cinderella. Mr.
Page performed Dandini; and the cast was
otherwise as in New Orleans.
Cholera broke out in Cincinnati, and raged
violently. It did not pass over our humble home
without taking its victims. When we recommenced our wanderings, two only daughters
were missing from the family group; two boys
remained (Lemuel and Marcus), and they are
living at this day, each a happy husband and
father; and there are five more boys now grown
up into manhood.
Of Messrs. Russell and Rowe's company, Mr.
Charnock and Mr. Page fell victims to the epidemic. Mr. Page died singing the music of the
opera in which he last appeared!
CHAPTER X.


RECEIVING no remittance or intelligence from
Messrs. Palmer and Lyon, my successors in Geor



90


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


gia, about the 1st of August I deemed it prudent
to commence preparations for resuming my managerial sway in the Southern regions. The cholera continuing its ravages, there was no difficulty
in enlisting a few recruits for the winter season
in Georgia and Alabama, with the understanding that for their services while traveling, and
until the commencement of the fall season in
Georgia, their traveling and other expenses
should be paid by me. I purchased two wagons
and teams, a set of scenery, and a small lot of
wardrobe; engaged a small party, consisting of
Mr. and Mrs. Delmon (late Miss Charlotte
Crampton), Mr. Coney, Mr. Lyne, Mr. Gamble,
and one or two others, and on the 12th of August, 1833, leaving the cholera behind us, as we
hoped, we started for Georgia, through Kentucky,
via the Cumberland Gap.
Our first stopping-place (for business) was
Paris. It was plainly to be perceived that, although no cholera actually existed there, the
fear of it kept people from assembling together
in large numbers. Our receipts were next to
nothing, and I soon found that paying the boarding and traveling expenses of the company was
a bad speculation; and, worst of all, I had provided myself with only three hundred dollars for
the journey, supposing that we should certainly
be able to "play our way" triumphantly into
Georgia.
Our next town was Richmond, which was
reached by traveling through a most romantic
country, crossing the Kentucky River at a point
where it was necessary to unload our wagons
and " tote" the trunks up a hill at least half a
mile, the horses being barely able to haul the
empty vehicles.
At Richmond the receipts were rather better
than at Paris, but nevertheless very small; and
the authorities of the place charged rather a
heavy tax on our performances, which did not
set us forward any. Here began dissensions between Mr. Delmon and his wife, which ended in
the departure of the former for Cincinnati. The
real name of this young man was Delmon Grace,
but he dropped the Grace when he adopted the
stage as a profession.
With my fund considerably diminished, we
took our departure from Richmond on Sunday,
the 1st of September, and on Tuesday passed
through the town of London (containing five
houses and a half), arriving at Barboursville,
at the foot of the Cumberland Mountains, on
Wednesday. Here we were persuaded to give a
concert, and the Barboursvillians turned out to
the number of twenty-two, at 25 cents each (all
they would pay for any " show," they said), giv

ing us a sum total of $5 50-about half the
amount of our tavern bill.
After paying toll next day at a gate on our
way through the mountains, my "' ready money"
had become reduced to the inconsiderable sum
of eight dollars and fifty cents! Rather a d-iscouraging situation we were in, the reader will
probably think-and we were.
On the 6th we passed over and through what
is called the " Cumberland Gap," and arrived at
Tazewell. The encouragement here for -a concert was very small indeed; and a theatrical performance was out of the question, there being no
room large enough. Our announcement of an
entertainment, consisting of songs, recitations,
etc., brought forth a demand by some public
functionary of fifty dollars for license! After
considerable search, I found an old statute which
exempted theatres and concerts from the operation of this license law, and we were permitted
to proceed with our concert unlicensed.
Our performance was given in the dining-room
of the hotel where we stopped. The auditory,
about twenty in number, were seated on chairs
in the room, while we, the performers, sung and
spoke on a sort of landing-place or gallery, about
six feet long, and two and a half feet wide.
From this landing-place, which was four feet
higher than the floor of the room, three doors
opened, one leading to our retiring, or greenroom, one to a sitting-room, and the other to the
stairway which led to the rooms above; besides,
there were steps leading down from each end of
the platform into the dining-room. Persons
were passing from one room to the other continually, and the performer was obliged to move
whenever any one passed.
Mr. Lyne, our heavy tragedian (afterward a
celebrated Mormon preacher), undertook, as his
share of the entertainment, to give Shakspeare's
" Seven Ages," from the comedy of As You LIKE
IT. I here attempt to give a portion of the recitation, as spoken on this occasion, with the
" side speeches" or interpolations of the reciter,
caused by the frequent interruptions he was subjected to:
All the world's a stage,
[Sir (to the landlord, a fat man, who entered at the
moment, shoving the actor against the wall), I'll
thank you not to crowd me so-our stage is very
small.
And all the men and women merely players:
[Don't-don't crowd me off!
They have their exits and their entrances;
[Indeed, sir, if you keep going in and out in this
way, I can not go on with my speech.
And one man in his time plays many parts,
[Now, sir, if you'll shut that door, I'll be obliged to
you. " Certainly, sir, go on."
His acts being seven ages.
[Thank you, sir. Now, pray, sit down.




A CONCERT IN THE DARK.


91


At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms;
[If you can't stop that child's crying, madam, I respectfully recommend that you retire with it into
another room, and furnish it with some refreshment suited to its tender years.
And then. the whining school-boy, with his satchel,
[You needn't snuff these candles just now, boy.
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
[I shall never get through if you keep jambing me in
this way.
Unwillingly to school.
[ Waiter, bring me a julep.
And then, the lover;
Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad
[I think the singing takes better than recitations.
Made to his mistress's eyebrow.
[It's devilish hot.
Then, a soldier;
Full of strange oaths,
[I shall swear, presently, if that child is not taken
out.
And bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
[Set down thejulep-I'll pay you when the performance is over.
Seeking the bubble reputation e'en in the cannon's
mouth.
[Sucks julep through a straw-pronounces it very
good.
And then, the justice, etc., etc., etc.
Next morning, after settling our tavern bill, I
had not enough money left to pay for our breakfast, which was to be partaken of about ten
miles ahead. Our avant courier, nevertheless,
was directed to order the usual morning meal,
and on went the vehicle, containing the majority
of the party, while I remained behind a little, in
order to "raise the wind," if possible, to pay for
the expected repast. As my wagon was brought
to the door, I asked the landlord if there was
such a personage in the town as a pawnbroker.
He did not understand me. "A money-lender," I explained - "one who lends money on
pledges."
" Well, yes-I reckon there is; our postmaster, Mr.-, sometimes lends money in that
way."
I soon found Mr. Postmaster, and opened the
negotiation. Offering him a gold chain which
cost $40, I asked a loan of $20 on it for one
month. He looked at the chain, weighed it in
his hand, and declined.
After considerable haggling, the worthy postmaster offered, out of purefriendship (as he said),
to let me have $15 if I would return him $20 in
a month, and leave my gold watch, worth $200,
as security. Ideclined this time, and we parted.
Desperately I whipped up the horses, urging
them on toward our breakfast place, my appetite
entirely gone, but fully believing that I should
come across some one who would furnish me
with the required loan. I felt very certain of
this, and told my wife so; and, sure enough, just
before reaching the dreaded haven, we overtook


a Mr. Burns with a drove of horses-a person
we had frequently passed, and been passed by,
during the journey. " That's my man," said I,
as we neared him.
" Good-morning, Mr. Burns."
" Good-morning, Mr. Smith."
" Where do you breakfast this morning?"
"At this place just ahead."
"So do I. Can I speak to you one moment?"
"Certainly." And in less than three minutes
my immediate Wants were supplied by the transfer of a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket-book
to mine. It turned out that, although our personal acquaintance was slight, merely from casual meetings as we progressed in our journey, he
knew me very well, and was perfectly satisfied
with my responsibility. Indeed, he wished me
to take a hundred or two; but I positively declined, feeling great confidence that at the Warm
Springs, which we were now nearing, we should
retrieve our fortunes, and be in funds again. My
appetite returning, we all made a hearty breakfast, and pursued our journey with renewed vigor
and spirits.
Crossing Clinch Mountain, from which there
is the most magnificent view I ever looked upon,
and partaking of some water from a strongly
impregnated chalybeate spring at its base, we
reached Bean's Station, in East Tennessee, on
the evening of the 7th of September, and " put
up" for the night.
A Concert in the Dark.
It soon became noised about that we were
"show folk," and a very strong request was
made by the citizens of the little settlement that
we should give a performance in the parlor of
the hotel or tavern. We acceded to the request
after considerable persuasion, and quite a number of persons, male and female, collected about
the house just before dark.
Remembering the difficulty I had experienced
on a similar occasion many years previously, as
heretofore related, when we were obliged to use
potatoes for candlesticks, I made inquiry of our
landlord as to the manner of lighting the room
for the intended performance. The reader will
scarcely credit me when I say that neither a candle nor a lamp could be procured in the neighborhood! Of course we expected this would end
all idea. of the proposed performance; but we
were mistaken; the villagers insisted on the fulfillment of our promise to " give them a show,"
and at last, as a bit of fun, I told them that we
would perform, if they would be satisfied that we
should do so in the dark. The crowd agreed to




92


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


this willingly, and I here record the fact that we
gave an entertainment, consisting of songs, duets,
recitations, and instrumental music, in TOTAL
DARKNESS! The performance appeared to take
well with the audience, the applause being liberally showered upon us. At the close I dismissed
my "patrons" with the assurance that we charged
nothing for our services on that occasion, which
seemed to please them more than even the " entertainment" which had drawn them together,
three tremendous cheers being 'iluntarily given
for the " show folk" as the delighted Bean Stationers groped their way to the door, and the
tired travelers felt their ways to their several
dormitories.
Next morning we found that our hotel expenses had been settled by some of the leading
gentlemen of the village, who had been instrumental in getting up the entertainment, and we
wended our way toward the North Carolina
Warm Springs.
A Tennessee Door-keeper.
At Greenville, East Tennessee, we made a
halt, and determined to treat the inhabitants of
that beautiful village with three representations
of the "legitimate drama," in a carpenter's shop,
hastily, but tastefully fitted up for the occasion.
The first representation was attended by just
six people, making the total receipts of the evening THREE DOLLARS!
My landlord, the carpenter, attributed the slim
attendance to a camp-meeting that was in successful operation about two miles from town,
and " reckoned" that if I would " hold on" until
that broke up, we should have full shops every
night.
Thus urged, we did "hold on," and our next
performance was rewarded with a receipt of TWO
DOLLARS AND A HALF!
I proposed to decamp next morning, but the
printer of the Greenville Expositor (who was on
the free-list as a matter of course) remonstrated
against so sudden a move, urging that a third
performance must be successful, as it was quite
certain the camp-meeting would break up that
morning, and the young folk would all return to
their homes.
I yielded, and advertised for "positively the
last performance" the play of WILLIAM TELL, a
favorite afterpiece, an4 a lot of comic songs.
At the time of beginning I was glad to find a
crowded audience in waiting-the shop, workbench and all, was literally crammed. One of
the carpenter's apprentices, whom I had trans

formed into a citizen of Altorf for the occasion,
told me that all but five or six of the people in
front were religious folks, who had attended the
camp-meeting faithfully to its conclusion.
The performance proceeded-the actors were
in high spirits. Lyne bullied Governor Gesler
with great fierceness; Sarnen whacked the carpenter's apprentice with a hearty good-will, while
the latter was making a bow to the governor's
cap, on a pole five feet and a half high-the arrow, aimed at the apple on Albert's head, flew,
with remarkable exactness, into the horse-blanket held up as a target to receive it behind the
scenes, and the play was received with shouts of
satisfaction by the Greenvillians. The farce was
honored by peal on peal of laughter, while the
comic songs were doubly encored, every one of
them.
The entertainment over, I observed there was
a reluctance in the audience to depart-they
wanted another song. I gave them one. Still
they remained as if glued to their seats. I went
before the curtain and thanked the people for
their patronage, and informed them the performance had concluded. They did not move-they
wanted yet another song. I gave them another,
and again told them the entertainment of the
evening was over, intimating, at the same time,
that the stage-carpenter was waiting to take
down the scenery. A gentleman in the gallery
(the work-bench) here arose and addressed me
as follows: " Mr. Sol. Smith: Sir,-I have been
requested to express to you the unanimous wish
of this meeting that you will prolong your season.
The liberal patronage bestowed upon you this
evening must have convinced you that we can
make something of a turn-out here, and I feel
authorized to say that, if you will give us a performance to-morrow night, you will have another
house as crowded as this."
A murmur of applause confirmed the opinion
of the speaker, and I was greatly tempted to
yield to their wishes; but, bethinking me of certain announcements for performances in towns
farther south, I was obliged to decline the invitation of my kind auditors, and content myself
with the eighty or ninety dollars which I supposed had been contributed that night to my
ways and means. Finding me determined, the
audience gradually dispersed, each individual
casting wishful and sidelong glances toward the
stage, which by this time was beginning to be
dismantled.
Motioning the door-keeper to follow me into a
sort of shed adjoining the theatre, I proceeded to
open the ticket-box in his presence, while he sat
down on a bench in the corner to wait for his




OVER THE CUMBERLAND MOUNTAINS.


93


wages. I found SEVEN TICKETS in the box, and,
turning to the waiting door-keeper, who was
busily engaged chewing tobacco and spitting, I
asked him what he had done with the rest.
"They are all thar," he replied, with great
composure, looking intently on a beam of the
shed, and rocking his right knee, which he held
in his clenched hands, and raised about half way
from the floor to his chin.
* "All there-where?" was the very natural
question that I next propounded.
"In the box whar you told me to put 'em," he
answered, still eying the beam or rafter.
"I find but seven here," I remarked: "I
want to know where are the tickets for the one
hundred and sixty or one hundred and eighty
people that were in the house to-night."
"I tell you again they are all thar, sir," he
answered, sturdily; " and I allow 'twon't be safe
for any man to insinuate any thing agin my
character," he continued, releasing his knee, and
taking a large quid of tobacco from a rusty steel
box and ramming it into his mouth.
" I do not wish to insinuate any thing against
your character," I said, soothingly, "but I want
to know what you have done with the tickets."
" They are thar," he again alleged-" every
one of 'em thar; no one passed me without giving me a ticket, and the tickets are all thar."
I began to get a little pettish, and asked the
tobacco-chewer to explain himself.  "There
were nearly two hundred people in the house,"
I urged.
" There war full that," he admitted.
" Well, then," I asked, finally, " where are the
tickets? Will you explain this mystery?"
My friend, the tobacco-chewing door-keeper,
here renewed his grasp on his raised knee, deliberately withdrew his eyes from the rafter, and
fixing them, half closed, on mine, at length afforded me the desired explanation, thus:
"You engaged me to keep your door; and I
performed my dooties to the best of my abilities,
for which you are indebted to me three dollars,
and I want my money. No person has passed
me without a ticket. My character is above
suspicion, and no one must say nothin' agin it."
"My good friend," I ventured to say, "I
don't wish to say any thing against-"
"No, I should think not-you'd better not,"
he continued, "for I'm too well known here;
well, as I was a sayin', you employed me as doorkeeper-mark the distinction-I had nothin' at
all to do with the WINDERS-and thar's where
your hundred and eighty people came in, you
'tarnal fool to leave 'em open when there was
sich a crowd comin' from camp-meetin'!"


I paid the fellow his three dollars, and next
day was far on my road to the Warm Springs,
in the famous county of Buncombe, where they
raise the largest peaches and the yellowest children in all creation.
CHAPTER XI.
ON the 11th of September we reached the
Warm Springs, Buncombe County, N. C.
is a beautiful place, situated in a lov
surrounded by hills-mountains "I might say.
The river French Broad runs in front of the
premises. The principal building, which is very
spacious, is surrounded by beautiful white cottages for the accommodation of visitors. The
Warm Spring is a great curiosity. The diningroom of the hotel is capacitated for the accommodation of 800 diners! We found we were too
late in arriving here (just my luck!), nearly' all
the com any having left the week previously.
No matter; we determined to try our fortune
with the few pleasure-seekers who remained, and
were favored with the attendance at our first entertainment of an audience composed of every
person at the Springs, including a numerous
body of black servants belonging to the place,
who occupied the " upper end of the hall," being
admitted on the "free list."
Finding that our heavy tragedian and other
principal actors" could be of -no use whatever
in the concert line, I dispatched them in the
stage to Greenville, S. C., and gave the next and
last entertainment with the assistance of Mrs.
Smith and Mrs. Delmon only. This was attended by all the visitors again-our total receipts
the two nights amounting to twenty-two dollars
and seventy-five one-hundredths.
I here sold one of my teams, pledged my $200
watch to Colonel Patton, our landlord, for $50
(never have had an opportunity to redeem it),
paid our bill, returned the borrowed money to
my friend Burns, the drover, and secured seats
for Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Delmon, my two little boys,
and myself, for Greenville, S. C., where we were
told a splendid business might be calculated on.
Almost a Duel.
On getting into the stage-coach, I was greatly
surprised to find two men on the back seat, naturally supposing the two women and children
would have been permitted to occupy that place;
but my surprise was still greater when, being remonstrated with by the agent, they claimed the
seat, and expressed their determination to keep


I paid the fellow his three dollars, and next
day was far on my road to the Warm Springs,
in the famous county of Buncombe, where they
raise the largest peaches and the yellowest children in all creation.
CHAPTER XI.
ON the 11th of September we reached the
Warm Springs, Buncombe County, N. C.
is a beautiful place, situated in a loveJi:alley,
surrounded by hills-mountains '1 might say.
The river French Broad runs in front of the
premises. The principal building, which is very
spacious, is surrounded by beautiful white cottages for the accommodation of visitors. The
Warm Spring is a great curiosity. The diningroom of the hotel is capacitated for the accommodation of 800 diners! We found we were too
late in arriving here (just my luck!), nearly all
the company having left the week previously.
No matter; we determined to try our fortune
with the few pleasure-seekers who remained, and
were favored with the attendance at our first entertainment of an audience composed of every
person at the Springs, including a numerous
body of black servants belonging to the place,
who occupied the " upper end of the hall," being
admitted on the "free list."
Finding that our heavy tragedian and other
"principal actors" could be of no use whatever
in the concert line, I dispatched them in the
stage to Greenville, S. C., and gave the next and
last entertainment with the assistance of Mrs.
Smith and Mrs. Delmon only. This was attended by all the visitors again-our total receipts
the two nights amounting to twenty-two dollars
and seventy-five one-hundredths.
I here sold one of my teams, pledged my $200
watch to Colonel Patton, our landlord, for $50
(never have had an opportunity to redeem it),
paid our bill, returned the borrowed money to
my friend Burns, the drover, and secured seats
for Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Delmon, my two little boys,
and myself, for Greenville, S. C., where we were
told a splendid business might be calculated on.
Almost a Duel.
On getting into the stage-coach, I was greatly
surprised to find two men on the back seat, naturally supposing the two women and children
would have been permitted to occupy that place;
but my surprise was still greater when, being remonstrated with by the agent, they claimed the
seat, and expressed their determination to keep




94


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


it. In all my travels, before or since, I have never conveyance he must ride with the driver. Mr.
met with a case like this, all gentlemen I have Bobadil came up and asked in a formal way if I


traveled with having ever been ready to yield
the back seat in a stage-coach to gentlewomen.
Not wishing to delay the coach, I requested the
women and children to take the front seat, and,
boiling over with passion, I ascended to the box,
where I took a seat with the driver. At our
breakfast-place, one of the occupants of the back
seat came to me, and offered to resign his place
to my wife, a sense of shame having overcome
him on the way. The other person, who persisted in his claim, was a Mr. SMITH (it was such a
singular name I shall never forget it!), a preacher from Charleston. While breakfast was getting ready, I went to the reverend gentleman
and told him that he must not think of riding inside the coach any farther; that I had taken my
turn outside, and I wished him to experience the
pleasant sensation of riding in the rain for a dozen miles or so, as I had done. He turned very
pale, but said nothing. Shortly after he took his
co-occupant of the back seat aside, and, after
some conversation between them, the latter came
to me and said that if I persisted in my demand
that Parson Smith should ride outside in the
rain, he should espouse his cause, and see that
no harm came to him-in short, that he would
not permit the preacher, that individual being a
non-combatant, to be treated with violence. I
observed that in Georgia I had heard of a man
who amassed a considerable fortune by minding
his own business, and gently hinted that perhaps
he might profit by confining his attention to his
own affairs. This rather nettled Mr. Bobadil (I
purposely suppress his real name), and he cut
short our conversation by notifying me that if I
offered to prevent the preacher's entrance into
the coach, he should consider it a personal insult,
and challenge me to mortal combat.
"Challenge me, will you?" said I. "I don't
see how I can accept your challenge; I am bound
by my oath, as an attorney-at-law, not to challenge to fight, fight, or accept a challenge to fight
a duel with deadly weapons."
"You can resign your office of attorney-atlaw, and can then accept my challenge," replied
Mr. B.
" But I don't want to resign," persisted I; " I
don't want to be at liberty to accept a challenge;
I don't believe in fighting duels; in short-"
At this juncture breakfast was announced, and
we all made a good meal before resuming the
subject. Breakfast over, I conducted the women
and children to the coach, and placed them in the
back seat, after which I went to the clergyman
and told him that if he went any farther by that


intended to persist in my determination to make
the clergyman ride on the outside. My answer
was in the affirmative.
" Then, sir," said he," I challenge you to give
me the satisfaction of a gentleman."
I answered, " Sir, I have no cause of quarrel
with you; you have resigned your seat to the females, as any gentleman ought; but I know the
custom of this country will not permit me to decline your challenge, so with great sorrow I accept it."
"It is well," replied my opponent. " I have a
pair of pistols, and we can settle this affair in five
minutes."
" Hold, sir!" I interposed. "I have already
told you I am principled against dueling; also,
that I have taken an oath not to fight with deadly weapons. You have challenged me —I have
accepted your challenge. If I am rightly informed in regard to your rules in matters of this
kind, I, the challenged party, have a right to select the time, the place, and the weapons; am I
right?"
"Undoubtedly," he answered.
"I avail myself of my right, then," I continued; "the time shall be NOW; the place HERE;
and the weapons-FISTS."
A general laugh followed this announcement,
a considerable crowd having collected by this
time to witness the expected duel.
"Sir, " said Bobadil, "the time I agree to;
the place I make no objections to; the weapons
I reject."
"On what grounds, pray?" inquired I.
"On the ground that they are not gentlemanly
weapons," he replied.
"But I insist," said I, " that they are gentlemanly weapons."
"How do you make that out?" asked he.
"Thus," I replied: "You challenge me, by
which act, according to your rules, you acknowledge me to be a gentleman. They are my weapons-ergo, they are the weapons of a gentleman,
or, in other words, gentlemanly weapons."
Several of the crowd here began to take part
with me, exclaiming, " Good-well argued-go
it, lawyer!"
" I object to your weapons," persisted my opponent, "on the ground that they are unusual,
and finally that, not being a pugilist myself, the
chances would be greatly in your favor."
"Just the reason that I named them," I replied. " If I fight in the way proposed, I expect
to conquer; whereas, if I should fight with your
confounded pistols, it is ten to one I would get a




PERFORMANCES IN A MASONIC LODGE-ROOM.


95


bullet in my thorax, which would be vastly inconvenient, I assure you, particularly at this
time, when I am under a pledge to the good citizens of Greenville to appear before them day
after to-morrow night."
The laugh being entirely against Bobadil, he
took new ground. He said if I persisted in a
"fist-fight," he should avail himself of his right
to postpone the battle, and procure a " champion" in three days.
"I refuse to fight any champion; it must be
either yourself or the preacher," said I.
Finding that not much was to be made out of
me in the talking line, Mr. Bobadil proceeded to
the coach, where, taking out and cocking a pistol, he said to the preacher,
"Go into the coach-I am here to protect
you. "
The reverend gentleman hesitated.
" Don't attempt to go into the coach," said I,
coming up to the other side of the door; "I am
here to prevent you."
The parson hesitated just a moment, and then
mounted the box and took his seat with the driver.
This ended all the difficulty. The fighting
gentleman became as friendly as a "sucking
dove," and long before our journey was over even
the clergyman joined us in laughing over the adventure, and acknowledged his regret at having
claimed the back seat, and of being the cause of
any words between the South Carolinian and myself.
This little scene took place thirty-five years
ago. At the time, and long afterward, I thought
I was in the right during the whole of that altercation. I record it to say I was in the wrongdecidedly. My conduct toward the preacher was
almost brutal, and I acknowledge it thus publicly, in hope, if these sheets should meet his eye,
that with the same Christian spirit which impelled him to ascend to the top of the coach to
endure a dripping rain for the sake of peace, he
will forgive me the harsh words I was guilty of
uttering on that occasion. On my part, with the
utmost sincerity, I forgive him for his great impoliteness in taking the back seat in the coach to
the exclusion of women and children, and feel
certain he will never sin in that way again. And,
while I am about it, I may as well accord him my
forgiveness for a furious attack he afterward made
from the pulpit, in Charleston, upon theatres and
the theatrical profession. Amen.
Beyond all comparison, the road from the
Warm Springs to Ashville is the most romantic
I ever traveled-that is, for a road that is a road.
Projecting rocks, some of them 200 feet high,


crowd the traveler almost into the French Broad
River nearly the whole thirty-seven miles. The
river itself is something of a curiosity, being almost continuous rapids the whole way.
Ashville is a very small village, and is the
county seat of the great county of Buncombe,
which Congressmen speak to so often.
On the urgent request of many persons, we
gave a concert here-couldn't give a " performance," in consequence of our baggage wagon not
having arrived (we had passed it on the way)and received from the generous villagers and
fashionable strangers assembled there the sum
of six dollars and seventy-five cents!
On Tuesday, the 17th of September, we arrived at the beautiful village of Greenville; and
on Wednesday, having completed the necessary
alterations in the masonic lodge-room, we opened it as a theatre, making our first appearance
before a South Carolina audience in the comedy
of the HONEY MOON (somewhat cut down), and
the afterpiece of FAMILY JARS. The four nights
of that week yielded us a receipt of about $150.
The Quarrel of Brutus and Cassius.
We performed two more nights in the following week. My quondam friend Bobadil (as I
have called him) and another gentleman came to
me on Tuesday morning, and expressed a wish
to make their appearance on the stage in a tragedy! It was, of course, out of the question to
get up a tragedy for their accommodation; but
it struck me that the appearance of "two gentlemen of South Carolina, their first attempt on
any stage" (or in any lodge-room), would be of
considerable benefit to my exchequer, so I told
them they might, if they thought proper, enact
the celebrated quarrel-scene of Brutus and Cassius, in Shakspeare's JULIUS CAESAR. This just
suited them, as they were both familiar with the
text, having at various times taken part in it at
school. They went at it, hammer and tongs,
rehearsing, while I sent out the performers of
our troupe to make the fact known confidentially,
to as many people as they could find, that Messrs.
B. and G. were to appear that night. The house
was crowded.
Perhaps the reader is not aware what tricks
amateur actors are subjected to when they aspire
(or condescend, as they consider it) to perform
with regular actors. Some slight idea may be
formed by the manner in which these gentlemen
were treated on this occasion-all the actors
lending a hand, of course, to assist in putting
them through.
First, the dressing$l (They had requested to




96


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


be so completely disguised that no one could Cassius ranted and stamped like mad, keeping
know them.)   Cassius (Bobadil) wore a gray his back to the audience, and crowding the "gentunic, a large spangled shoulder-cloak, slouched tle Brutus" into a corner, where that personage
hat and feathers; stock, gray wig with a very quietly " took the word" from the prompter, and
long tail, black whiskers (painted with cork), kept a bold front to the public until the dialogue
mustaches turned up, large eye-brows, nankin was concluded. The applause and laughter of
/   S,..-....


THE QUARREL OF BRUTUS AND CASSIUS.


pantaloons, boots, spurs! gauntlets, broadsword, and truncheon. Brutus, his companion
in arms (Mr. G.), was rigged out with a soldier's
coat, Scotch kilt, large modern military hat, with
enormous red and white feather, leopard-skin
cloak, as worn by Rolla, blue military pantaloons,
considerably too short for him, pumps and spurs
(couldn't do without the spurs), red wig, black
whiskers, mustaches turned down (as a contrast),
a Turkish cimiter, two pistols in his belt, gauntlets, very high-standing shirt collar, white cravat,
tied with an enormous bow, and ruffled shirt,
displayed to the best advantage. Thus accoutred, they appeared before the audience, with a
success unprecedented in that town, I'll venture
to say, and probably noc exceeded any where.


the audience shook the masonic hall to its foundations. \The gentlemen actors were in high glee
at their success, and Bobadil asked me if there
would be any thing improper in volunteering a
comic song. Consenting at once to this addition
to the fun of the evening, I rang up the curtain,
and Cassius gave a very passable song, entitled
the " King and the Countryman." This pleased
the excited public so well that they called for a
song from the other gentleman. Mr. G. had begun to discover the joke, and was in the act of
disrobing when this call was made, and nothing
should induce him, he said, to make a fool of
himself a moment longer; " besides," he added,
"' I never sung a song in my life." Cassius was
somewhat enraged at his comrade's refusal to




DEATH OF CASSIUS AT PHILIPPI.


97


gratify the audience, and proposed, as the noise
was kept up, that since Brutus would not sing,
they should act the quarrel-scene over again;
but Brutus positively declining, the fiery Cassius
turned to me and offered to dance a hornpipe, if
that would be satisfactory to our patrons. Putting on a grave face, I said,
"It is very plain to my comprehension that
the audience do not want singing or dancing;
what they want is a little more tragedy."
"Do you think so?" said Cassius.   "Well,
what can we give them?"
"I know of nothing you can give them," replied I, "better, or more appropriate, or more
likely to be acceptable, than the death-scene of
Cassius on the plains of Philippi."
"Hah! the very thing!" agreed the excited
amateur; "but I haven't studied it. What are
the words?"
I put a volume of Shakspeare into his hands,
pointing to the page, called our low comedian,
Mr. Coney (dressed for Diggory), and told him
he must perform the part of Pindarus, Cassius's
freedman, which he very willingly undertook to
do, "under the circumstances, at very short notice," and Cassius having, as he thought, mastered the few lines of the scene to be enacted,
the curtain was again rung up.
Cassius had by some accident (or more likely
by some contrivance of one of the actors) changed
hats with Brutus, and he now appeared with the
large military cocked hat which had sat so gracefully on the brow of the "noblest Roman of them
all."
The scene which followed was ludicrous in the
extreme.
Cassius. Come hither, sirrah!
In Parthia did I take thee prisoner,
And then I swore-I swore[D-d if I can remember any more.
Prompter. I sworeCassius. [I've said that.]
Prompter. And then I swore thee, etc.
Cassius. [Yes, I remember.] I swore thee, saving of
thy lifePrompter. That whatsoever I'd bid thee doCassius. That whatsoever I'd bid thee do,
Thou shouldst attempt it. Come, now, keep thine oath.
Prompter. (Cassius repeating after him.)
Now be a freeman, and with this good sword,
[ Where is it? Oh, here, on the wrong side.
That ran through Coesar's bowels, search this bosom.
Here, take thou the hilts,
[Coney takes sword and an attitude.,
And when my face is covered, as 'tis now-,
[How am I to cover my face  This surtout won't
reach.
Manager. Pull your hat over your eyes.
Cassius. [Oh, very well; pulls the hat over his eyes
and down to his nose.] Guide thou the sword.
[Coney stabs him several times, which Cassius not
observing, being blindfolded, continues to stand
with his arms extended, trying to run on the
sword.
G


Manager. (From the wing.) Fall 1
[Cassius falls with all his weight, half his body off
the stage, still blindfolded.
Manager. Now for the dying words.
Cassius. [ What are they?]
Prompter. Caesar, thou art revenged, etc.
Cassius. Caesar, thou art revenged even with the
sword that killed thee.
Manager. Now for the dying struggle.
Cassius. [Gives several dying kicks-the curtain falls.
Our next town was Pendleton, the very centre of the state, and then the hotbed of Nullification. After considerable difficulty the Farmers'
Hall was procured for our performances, and the
Pendletonians were treated to the first representation of a play and afterpiece in their town,
on a brick floor.
We acted about a week in Pendleton, during
the races, to very moderate houses, paying $5
per night to the town treasurer for the privilege,
and then pulled up stakes, determined to get out
of the state as soon as possible.
Monday, October 7th, passed through Anderson village, the seat of justice for the district,
where we were urged to perform a few nights.
No; positively no more acting by us in South
Carolina, where they tax us about two thirds of
our receipts. Tuesday night staid at a Mrs.
Liddell's, where we had mush and milk for supper, "by particular desire!" When we seated
ourselves at the table, the landlady raised her
hands toward the ceiling and pronounced the following words instead of asking a blessing:
"Come all ye mush-eaters of the best,
Aloft your spoon-shanks raise,
And in the voice of melody,
Sing forth the mush-pot's praise."
Supposing it might be a custom of the country,
we sang the lines to the tune of Mear, and then
fell to.
Next morning, after paying a swinging bill
(for poetry, mush, and lodging), we proceeded
on to Abbeville Court-house, where we had the
satisfaction of paying no tax for playing, for the
simple reason that we did not play, though
strongly urged to do so. Thursday morning we
crossed the Savannah River, on each side of
which,, at our crossing-place, stands a townLisbon on one side, and Vienna on the otherand arrived the same night at Washington, in
Georgia. Here we were announced to perform
three nights; but, to our utter dismay, on the
rising of the curtain we found that only nine persons constituted our entire audience! At the
close of the performance I directed the carpenter
to take down the scenery, and be ready for an
early start in the morning. A great many-people remonstrated against this hasty retreat, say



AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


ing that now the citizens understood the performance was "respectable," they would crowd
the room the other two nights; but I was firm
in my determination to leave, and leave we did,
without subjecting ourselves to the chance of
such another mortification.
Two of our company, Mrs. Delmon and Mr.
Coney, were married in this place-that is to
say, the marriage ceremony was performed-I
can not suppose there was any legality in it, as
Mr. Delmon was alive at the time. Poor Coney
afterward went to Texas, joined a military company, and was killed in battle. Mrs. Coney, after marrying several other gentlemen in the theatrical profession, is at present performing in Salt
Lake City, under her maiden name of "Miss
Crampton!" She is certainly a very talented
actress, and in retaining, or, rather, resuming her
maiden name, she is only following the example
of hundreds of others, some of whom are "happy wives' and mothers of children. This sailing under false colors is a most ridiculous and
disgraceful custom, and operates more against
the respectability of the profession than any thing
I know of.
Being returned to Georgia, I thought it time
to make inquiry as to the whereabouts of my
company, left in charge of Managers Palmer and
Lyons. It had scattered! There were several
"branches" of the original stock perambulating
the state, but the generals had beat a retreat,
and had "wandered away, no man knew whither!"
A Mr. Dyke, somewhat notorious as a strolling
manager in Indiana and Illinois, having engaged
one or two of my former company (a carpenter
and door-keeper), announced his concern as one
of my branches. Some years ago this same Dyke
applied to my brother Lemuel for an engagement
in the words and figures following, to wit:
"DEAR SIR:-I am informed u are in want of a
woman. I can furnish you with my wife. She
plays Mrs. Haller and dances the slack wire eleguntly-the vursatility of her talents you may
perceive by this is astonishing; and I don't give
up the mock duke to no actor in the country.
if you want my wife you can have us boath on
resonable turms, say ate (8) dollars for her and
sicks (6) for me. Rite by return of male.
"Ures,       WM. DYxE."
Pushed on to Milledgeville, where we arrived
on the 18th of October, and commenced preparations for opening the theatre, which was no small
task, inasmuch as Messrs. Palmer and Lyons had
"managed" to destroy, scatter, and lose nearly
every thing in the shape of wardrobe, scenery,
and properties intrusted to them. Mr. Lyons I
did not meet for two or three years afterward.


Mr. Palmer came to see me during the time that
we remained in Milledgeville; and in consequence of his having taken part with the murderer of my brother during my absence-that
brother having always been a kind friend to him
when living-I uttered this prophecy: "PIALMER, YOU WILL DIE IN A DITCH!" Five years
afterward he came to me here in St. Louis, a
poor drunken wretch, begging for means to purchase bread. I gave him $5, and he left me.
Next day I learned that, in crossing a gully on
his way to St. Charles, he fell in, and actually
died in the way I had prophesied! Lyons, about
the same time (1838), formed a company for
Texas, and, embarking on board a brig at New
York, was lost, with all the company except two
(Mr. Dougherty and another), the vessel being
upset in a gale.
With a rather inefficient company, consisting
of some few stragglers reclaimed from my
" branches," and the recruits I had brought with
me from Cincinnati, the Milledgeville Theatre
was opened on Monday, the 28th of October, with
the comedy of the SOLDIER'S DAUGHTER, and
the standard farce of FAMILY JARS.
Business continued dull until the assemblage
of the Legislature on the 4th of November, when
the tide turned in our favor, and we continued to
perform to good houses to the end of the session
and season.
A. H. Pemberton, Esq., from Augusta, passed
most of his time here during the session. This
gentleman (now dead) was a very energetic political writer, and wielded a considerable influence in the affairs of the state. He was a warm
advocate and able defender of the stage, and
wrote in its favor whenever opportunity offered.
In 1831 he received the thanks, in a series of
resolutions, of Mr. Caldwell's company, then performing in St. Louis, for his able and masterly
defense of the drama, and of a member of our
profession, Mrs. F. Brown, against the attacks of
a fanatic named Gilchrist.
Fire in the Capitol.
On the 16th of November there was an alarm
of fire, and it was soon ascertained that the
State-house was burning. Our company instantly suspended rehearsal and repaired to the spot,
where all were engaged iia carrying out the valuable documents, records, and the assets of the
Central Bank of Georgia. I did not perceive
that any persons were making attempts to extinguish the fire, which was in the upper part cf
the house-all seeming to be impressed with the
idea "the house must go," there being no en



THE GAMBLER'S FATE.


99


gines in the town. Meeting an acquaintance or
two (I remember the names of Messrs. M'Elvoy
and Williams), I proposed that we should go up
and ascertain where the fire was. These gentlemen acceded to the proposition, and on our way,
seeing a very large and strong negro man busily
at work carrying out books, we enlisted him in
our little band and proceeded to the roof, where
we soon found that by energetic and prompt
action it was yet possible to save the building.
I am not going to describe the proceedings which
took place; suffice it to say they were successful;
the State-house was saved. The following article from the pen of Mr. Pemberton, in the Augusta Chronicle, will show that due credit was
given to those who were happily instrumental in
saving the government building:
"Great credit is due to Peter Williams, Esq.,
Sol. Smith, Esq., of the theatre, Mr. M'Elvoy, of
the House of Representatives, and one or two
others whose names we do not know, and a negro, for their intrepid and indefatigable exertions on the roof, to which mainly the preservation of the building is to be attributed. We
trust the members of the Legislature and the
people of Milledgeville, which latter have a deep
interest in the preservation of the State-house,
will propose a benefit to Mr. Smith, and give him
a glorious bumper for his fearless and most valuable exertions on the occasion. He richly deserves it."
The "benefit" was proposed, at $5 a ticket,
but I shrank from the acceptance of any such
demonstration.  The NEGRO, however (gods!
how that fellow did work!), was rewarded by the
Legislature with his freedom-or rather, I should
say, it was the intention of the members to vote
him his freedom, but in their hasty legislation
they voted $1800 to purchase the man, and forgot to pass an act for his emancipation! It was
only in the year 1852 that the governor discovered the omission, and the Legislature passed the
necessary act. The noble fellow had been for
nineteen years the property of the commonwealth, and had busied himself in taking care
and keeping in order the building he had so efficiently assisted in preserving.
Now one word for myself. In that affair I
lost a good (almost new) overcoat and a valuable pair of boots, which I took off while working
on the roof. The coat I say nothing about; but
the boots!-I don't think it would be at all out
of the way if the State of Georgia were to make
me a present of a bran new pair. Although I
declined the proposed benefit, I will not decline
the boots, if offered in a proper and considerate
way.


Byrom, the Gambler.
"HENRY BYROM, the gambler, is shot!"
Such were the words which were passed from
one to another on the morning of the 20th of
November, 1833, at the seat of government of
the State of Georgia. Henry Byrom, a young
man of fine talents, and well educated, was a
merchant in one of the small towns of Georgia,
operating on a capital of $10,000 furnished by
his mother. In an evil hour he entered a gambling-house, "just to see what was going on,"
and was induced to make some small bets on the
game of faro. He was successful at first; but
before midnight, stimulated by strong drinks
with which he was plied, he not only lost all the
ready money he had with him, but became deeply in debt to the keeper of the bank. Next day
he was unfit for business and did not open his
store, and when night again shrouded the earth
he stealthily sought the gambler's den, determined to retrieve his fortunes or lose all.
" Here is the key of my store," said he to the
banker, throwing it down upon the table; "in
it is a stock of goods which cost $10,000; give
me checks -I play until I win back my last
night's losses, or you win all the store contains."
"Agreed," said the banker, and commenced
turning the cards.
In two short hours all was decided; the key
remained in possession of the banker, and Byrom
rushed out into the square a ruined man!
"I swore an oath," said Byrom, when relating these occurrences to me, "that from that
moment I would prey upon mankind; I would
learn the devilish arts of the gambler, and turn
them against my fellow-men. I have done so.
Behold me now; I am no longer a merchantno longer a respectable man. Can he be respectable-nay, can he lay any claim to a shadow of
respectability who has gambled away his mother's all, and caused her death? No, no! I am
-Byrom, the gambler!"
Traveling from Milledgeville to Athens in a
stage-coach with a mother and her two daughters, his fine appearance and polished manners
made an impression so favorable that when the
coach stopped and he was bowing his adieu, the
old lady expressed the hope that he would call
on them if he should visit Macon, where they resided. He smiled languidly as he listened to
the old lady; then, drawing himself up, he threw
open his outside traveling-coat, and casting a
piercing glance at the ladies, he laughed sarcastically, and exclaiming, " I am Byrom, the gambler!" walked away.
Byrom, when I knew him, was one of the most:       '0    0:      -
0              9 I
*   ~.~   ~  ~




100


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


expert of the " sporting men" in the state; he
played high, drank deep, and was, in fact, a gentlemanly desperado. In an affray he killed a
Mr. Ellis, of Macon, in 1832, and was now in
Milledgeville pursuing his nefarious profession.
On the night of the 19th of November, some difficulty occurring between a hotel-keeper (Mr.
Macomb) and Colonel Ward, a friend of Byrom's, fire-arms were resorted to, and the colonel received a dangerous wound from a pistolshot. Byrom became savage, and threatened
vengeance on Macomb, who, it was universally
conceded, acted only in self-defense. I heard
the conclusion of a speech he made to a large
concourse of people from the steps of the hotel
where Macomb lay wounded. He denounced
Macomb and all who sided with him as poltroons
and cowards, and dared them, one and all, to
" fight it out" with him; said that he would have
the heart's blood of Macomb, and concluded by
taking out his watch, and saying, " I APPOINT
TWELVE O'CLOCK THIS NIGHT TO DIE, AND INVITE YOU ALL TO MY FUNERAL."
Macomb's friends had armed themselves, and
stood ready, on the second floor of a back gallery, to repel any attack which might be made.
Byrom continued to walk up and down the platform beneath the gallery, with a cocked pistol in
each hand, until exactly twelve o'clock, when
exclaiming, "Come, it is time!" he rushed up
the steps, and was met by the discharge of a volley of musketry, which laid him dead. There I
saw his lifeless body the next morning, the pistols still grasped in his clenched hands. Seven
or eight buckshot had entered his brain-and
that was the end of BYROM, THE GAMBLER!
A Victim   of Circumstantial Evidence.
On Friday, the 22d of November, I witnessed
the execution of the Rev. Mr. Johnson, convicted of murdering his wife's sister, a child about
twelve years of age, by hanging her on a hackberry-tree. His guilt appeared undoubted, although the evidence was all circumstantial. On
the gallows he seemed quite unconcerned. He
had evidently made up his mind to die, all intercessions to the Legislature on his behalf for a
pardon having proved unavailing. His wife,
who was mainly instrumental in proving his
guilt, was on the gallows with him, and seemed
anxious that her husband should forgive her before he suffered. The poor man, whose hands
were fast tied, could not embrace his wife, but
allowed her to embrace him, and appeared rather
pleased when she got through with her caresses.
Mr. Johnson was then asked if he had any thing




to say before he suffered the extreme penalty of
the law. He turned and looked around on the
crowd, and said, mildly, "I have nothing to say
except that I hope all of you, my friends, who
came to see this sight, when your time comes to
die, may be as ready to meet your God as I am.
I DIE INNOCENT." In less than a minute after
these words were uttered his body was hanging
a lifeless corpse, and the people were returning
to their homes, wondering how any man-particularly a minister of the Gospel-could be so
hardened as to die with a lie upon his lips, for
probably not one in that large crowd gave credit
to his dying words.
Reader, he did die innocent! Fourteen years
afterward a negro was hung in Mississippi who
on the gallows confessed that he committed the
crime for which Mr. Johnson paid the terrible
penalty.
On the occasion of my benefit-the closing
night-I issued a " message," which undoubtedly had its desired effect, for the house was crammed in every part. I spare the reader a perusal
of it.
CHAPTER XII.
OUR next move was to Macon, where, in consequence of bad weather, we made but a poor
season. I remember nothing very amusing connected with my present visit to this city except
the following:
A Challenge and a Blow-up.
During Christmas time, one night, our heavy
tragedian got "tight," and kicked up "considerable of a muss" in one of the dressing-rooms,
ending his maneuvres by attacking one of the
employes of the theatre, and inflicting upon him
many blows, cuffs, and thumps. This conduct
entitled him, under our rules and regulations, to
an instant discharge, which he instantly received;
when, taking his bundle under his arm, and assuring me in an emphatic manner that I should
" hear from him," the indignant tragedian went
off, and the play went on. The piece was PAUi
PRY AT DOVER, in which I personated the inquisitive Paul. Just as I was going on the
stage in the third act, to be shut up in a box of
fire-works, a note was handed to me by the callboy. Not having leisure to read it at the time,
I put it in my vest pocket, and proceeded with
my part. In due time I was in the box, where
(having a lighted candle with me) it was my
business, at a certain " cue," to set fire to a fuse




TIE "OLD STATION" IN GEORGIA.


101


or match communicating with fire-works. As I
lay there waiting for my cue, the note I had received occurred to my mind, and I determined
to read it. It was a challdnge from the discharged tragedian! I burst into a violent laugh
(I couldn't help it), and during my cachinnatory
movements I upset the candle, which communicated to the fuse before the proper time, and the
contemplated "terrible explosion" took place
prematurely.
Moving southwestwardly (I forgot to say there
was no duel-the challenge was withdrawn next
day), Montgomery, in Alabama, was our next
destination, leaving out Columbus this time.
Punch and Prayers.
Of the various stopping-places when journeying from town to town in Georgia, I remember
none with more pleasure than the "Old Station"-Captain Crowell's. The arrival of our
company, always announced by an avant courier,
was the cause of a holiday with the jolly old
captain and his amiable family. Such delicious
fare as we had at the station! and with it, always such a hearty welcome!
The captain had a boy named Peter-rather
an old boy-say between fifty and sixty years of
age-a negro, in whose judgment he had great
confidence. When in the least doubt on any
matter he always appealed to Peter, who never
failed to give his opinion honestly, bluntly, and
immediately.  Sometimes the traveling community crowded on him in such numbers that
the worthy captain found it difficult, even with
his "ample room and verge," to accommodate
the late comers. After talking the matter over,
he would appeal to his black oracle. "It don't
seem to me we can possibly accommodate any
more; every bed is engaged. Peter, what do
you think?"  "Put 'em on blankets by the fire,"
Peter would suggest, if favorably inclined to the
travelers; if otherwise, his answer would probably be, "Can't take in anudder one;" and the
captain always confirmed Peter's decision, exclaiming, "Peter is right."
It so happened on one occasion, when we
were sojourners with Captain Crowell, that a
traveling preacher came along rather late in the
evening, and applied for accommodation.
" Don't believe we can take you in, stranger;
mighty full to-night-got the play-actors herejolly set! full, jam up!" said the captain.
"I regret exceedingly that you can not accommodate me, as I am fatigued and hungry, having been ih the saddle since sunrise," mildly re

plied the preacher, as he turned his horse's head
to pursue his journey.
The captain relented a little. " Fatigued and
hungry! The devil! It won't do to turn a
man off fatigued and hungry; what do you say,
Peter?"
Peter, who had been waiting for the question,
answered, "Better call 'um back"-which was
instantly done.
"Halloo! stranger! Halloo! you with the
saddle-bags! Come back and 'light; we'll see
what we can do for you."
The preacher did not wait for a second invitation, but returned and dismounted.
"I don't like preachers much, nor Peter either; but mother and the girls have no objections to 'em,' mumbled the captain, as he took
the saddle-bags and put them safely away. "I'll
be dot darned if I know what to do with him,
though; every thing is full. What do you say,
Peter?"
"Put him in de bar," answered Peter, and it
was so arranged.  "Peter is right!" exclaimed
the captain.
After supper, the preacher proposed that we
should have family worship, saying that Mrs.
Crowell and the young ladies had accorded their
consent to such a proceeding. The captain was
taken completely aback. The truth is, he had
ordered Peter to make a tremendous bowl of
punch, and had calculated on passing the evening in a jolly and convivial way. The proposed
"family worship" didn't seem exactly compatible; yet he disliked to refuse, as the females
seemed to favor it.
" Well, stranger," said he, " I don't know what
to think about this here business. I didn't expect, when we took you in, that you would knock
up our fun-that is, I didn't exactly look for you
to go in for any of your preachin' fixins; the
fact is, we have company to-night (lowering his
voice) who ain't much used to that sort of thing;
in short-What do you say, Peter?"
"Let him go it," replied Peter at once, knowing that it would gratify his mistress.
So the travelers and family were gathered together in the bar-room, and the worthy Presbyterian commenced one of those extensively long
prayers which appear to have no end, and in
which the Almighty is told what to do with his
creatures in all their varied walks of life. The
captain stood it pretty well for the first quarter
of an hour, but after a while he began to get
mighty uneasy. Looking first one way and then
another, his eye at length rested on Peter, who
was standing on the outside of the door, bearing
in his arms a large bowl. He had been tempted




102                AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.
several times to stop the clergyman, but now he rocks as he could carry in his pocket, and stone
determined to submit the matter to an umpire the Creeks out of the nation.
that never failed to decide correctly. Accordingly, in a loud whisper, he propounded the question, " What do you say, Peter?"                   The consolate Widow.
"Better quit it," was the decision of Peter,  Between 'Caleba Swamp and Lime Creek, in
who almost immediately added, "Punch is the "Nation," we saw considerable of a crowd
ready."                                    gathered near a drinking -house, most of them
The captain gave a gentle jog to the long- seated and smoking. We stopped to see what
winded Presbyterian, and said, " Peter thinks was the matter. It was Sunday, and there had
we'd better bring this matter to an end. We've been a quarter race for a gallon of whisky. The
got a splendid bowl of punch, and, as soon as first thing I noticed on alighting was the singular
you can conveniently come to 'Amen,' perhaps position of one of the horses of the party. Ile
it would be as well to wind up."           was kneeling down and standing on his hinder
The minister did "wind up" rather suddenly, feet, his head wedged in between the ends of two
and the " family worship" was over for that logs of the grocery, and was stone dead, having
night. I feel compelled to add that the preach- evidently ran directly against the building at full
er, after a little urging, drank his full share of speed, causing the house partially to fall. About
the punch, and the evening passed off pleasantly, five paces from the body of the horse lay the
ending with the stowing away of the worthy di- rider, quite senseless, with a gash in his throat
vine in the little room known as the "bar," which might have let out a thousand lives. As I
where he rested as well, probably, as he would said, most of the crowd were seated and smoking.
have done in the best bedroom, his long ride in a  " What is all this?" I inquired.  " What is
drizzling rain, assisted by the comforting con- the matter here?"
tents of Peter's punch-bowl, predisposing him to  "Matter?" after a while answered one in a




a sound sleep.


It had been told me for a fact that Captain
Crowell had said no man should marry his
daughter who could not outjump her. At the
time I traveled in that country, it was said she
had outjumped all the young men who had come
to woo her; but the captain felt pretty certain
that when the right one should come she wouldn't
jump so well. More than likely, long before this
time she has been "won and wed."
Another famous stopping-place was General
Woodward's, at Caleba Swamp. The general
was a tall, noble-looking fellow, a rough likeness
of George Barrett. He always gave us a hearty
wolcome, and many a pleasant night I have spent
at his house. A most eccentric man he was. A
preacher putting up at his house one night complained of being disturbed by a fiddler who kept
playing till midnight. (The "fiddler" was the
general himself.) Next morning, as the travelers came up to settle their several bills, each was
charged a dollar except the preacher, of whom a
dollar and a quarter was demanded.
" Will vou be kind enough to inform me why
it is you charge me more than the others?" asked the preacher.
"Sartin," replied the general; "the extra
quarter I charge you for-the music."
It was General Woodward who, during the Indian troubles, sent a formal offer to the War De

drawling voice, giving a good spit, and refilling
his mouth with a new cud. "Matter enough;
there's been a quarter race."
"But how came this man and horse killed?"
I asked.
"Well," answered the chewing and spitting
gentleman, " the man was considerably in liquor,
I reckon, and he run his hboss chuck agin the
house, and that's the whole on it."
"Has a doctor been sent for?" inquired one
of our party.
"I reckon there ain't much use of doctors
here," replied another of the crowd. "Burnt
brandy couldn't save either of 'em, man or hboss."
"Has this man a wife and children?" inquired I.
"No children, that I knows on," answered a
female, who was sitting on the ground a short
distance from the dead man, smoking composedly.
"'He has a wife, then?" I remarked. "What
will be her feelings when she learns the fatal termination of this most unfortunate race?"
"Yes," sighed the female, " it was an unfortunate race. Poor man! he lost the whisky."
"Do you happen to know his wife? Has she
been informed of the untimely death of her husband?" were my next inquiries.
" Do I know her? Has she been informed of
his death?" said the woman. " Well, I reckon
you ain't acquainted about these parts. I am


partment that for $500 he would take as many I the unfortunate widder.'




GEORGE HOLLAND, THE COMEDIAN.


103


" You, madam! You the wife of this man who
has been so untimely cut off?" I exclaimed, in
astonishment.
"Yes, and what about it?" said she. " Untimely cut off? His throat's cut, that's all, by
that 'tarnal sharp end of a log; and as for it's
being untimely, I don't know but it's as well now
as any time-he warn't of much account, no how!"
She resumed her smoking, and we resumed
our journey.
The season in Montgomery this year (1834)
commenced on the 16th of January. The celebrated George Holland joined me in the management, and the firm was " Smith & Holland."
George Holland came to this country under
an engagement for three years at the Bowery
Theatre. After performing in that establishment for a short time, he received so many offers of starring engagements that he bought himself out, and started on a tour through the
States, making money at every step. In a year
or two he accumulated sufficient means to purchase a cottage at Harlem, New York. Being
fond of domestic comforts, he fitted up his place
in the most tasteful manner - improved his
grounds - had a boat - kept his gig and fasttrotting pony, and was really in a little earthly
paradise. Being a very popular comedian in
New York, and his cottage being always open to
his friends, he had considerable company, who
delighted in his society, his jokes, his dinners,
and his Champagne. He lived thus for about
two years, when some "d-d good- natured
friends" persuaded him to fit up his place as a
house of entertainment. He followed the advice,
expended a large sum in preparing his premises
for the reception of company, and-was ruined!
Those friends who could find time to pass days
at his cottage when it cost nothing, now found
that their business in town suffered during their
absence; the wine, which was drank with such
gout before, was now discovered to be of the
same kind as that kept at Niblo's in the city;
the ice cream, ice punches, and strawberries
could be got in New York, and the expense of
the ride saved; the few who did visit the cottage found that Holland, the hospitable host of
invited guests, was a different person from Holland the landlord; and though he had been always ready with his joke and repartee when entertaining friends at his own expense, his feelings
shrank from giving an expected anecdote with a
glass of cream, or a bon mot with a bowl of punch.
The speculation failed, and George Holland was
compelled to go out into the world again.
The veteran Cooper, Mr. Barton, and Mr. Hol

land made a professional tour, giving entertainments in all the principal towns from Baltimore
to New Orleans. The anecdotes which might be
related of this tour would fill a small volume.
George gave loose to his love of fun, and the two
tragedians were obliged to " stand it."
My business connection with George Holland
was a very pleasant one. We parted at the
close of the season with mutual good feelings,
and he proceeded to New Orleans, where he
soon became the principal clerk of James H.
Caldwell, about that time extensively engaged in
starting his gas company. In after years we
were thrown into antagonistic interests, but not
for a moment did either of us entertain any but
the most friendly feeling toward the other. In
prosperity and adversity he adhered to the fortunes and misfortunes of Mr. Caldwell until 1843,
when that gentleman, as will be hereafter related,
bade adieu to theatrical management. For a
few months Mr. Holland traveled with Dr. Lardner as his agent and manager, and then attached
himself to the Little Olympic, under Manager
Mitchell, where he remained seven years, as great
a favorite as New York ever knew. On the retirement of Mitchell from the management in
1849, Holland accepted an engagement offered
him by Mr. Thomas Placide, manager of the
"Varieties," New Orleans, where he enjoyed a
popularity never perhaps achieved by any other
actor in that city. Mr. Holland is now a fixture
at' "Wallack's," in NewYork, where he is deservedly esteemed both as an actor and a man.
The following is a list of our Montgomery
stars: H. J. Finn, Mr. and Mrs. George Barrett,
Mr. George Hill, and Miss Jane Placide. The
season was a moderately good one, and closed
on the 26th of April.
Mr. G. W. West, a tailor by trade, and a very
sensible man, volunteered to perform the character of Rolla for the benefit of one of the actors;
and I must here record the fact that he succeeded very well-better than any amateur actor I
ever saw attempt the part. In the last scene but
one, where he crossed the bridge, bearing Cora's
child out of the Spanish camp, he met with an
accident which might have been fatal to himself
and the rescued child also. Whether, in the confusion created by the firing of muskets at the retreating hero, he became confused and missed his
footing, or the joint of the bridge was dislocated
too soon by the attending carpenter, I do not
know, but certain it is that Rolla had an inglorious tumble into the waters below, still holding
on to the child, which he bore aloft while struggling in the waves! Young Mark Smith was
restored to his mother without a scratch, while




104


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


the nose of West bore such unmistakable marks
of violence from some quarter that no extra application of a bloody sponge was necessary to prepare him for his dying scene.
West received great applause for his performance, and many of his friends advised him to
adopt the stage as a profession; but he had the
good sense to adopt the advice of a better friend
than any of those who so advised him, and he is
now one of the first merchant tailors of St. Louis,
respected by every body, with plenty of the world's
riches to render him independent and happy. I
don't know how Colonel West may relish my
mention of his youthful freak, but he and I.often
talk over this Rolla affair 'with great pleasure.
He has become quite portly, but the child he rescued from the Spaniards has outgrown him considerably; and he admits that an attempt now to
carry Mark over a bridge would inevitably result
in another tumble.
CHAPTER XIII.
A NEW organization of my forces was absolutely necessary. The past year's company was
any thing but one to be proud of. Falstaff re

Here I leased the theatre for one year, and occupied it one month, losing in that month $1000.
The rent ($1000) was secured by a mortgage on
a lot in Macon, which was eventually sold to pay
the same. Two years afterward that lot was
worth $11,000! So my month's management
in Augusta was any thing but profitable.
A Manager for a Minute.
Charles W. Hunt was a member of my company at the time. He was then a promising
young actor, aspiring to establish himself as a
low comedian; but, young as he was, and modest, I think the reader will'agree with me, when
he reads what follows, that he exhibited a degree of coolness under difficulties worthy of an
experienced veteran.
On the very first night of the season, this
Hunt got into a difficulty with a Mr. Sullivan, a
fiery, trodden-down young tragedian. A fight
ensued, which ended in the breaking of poor
Hunt's arm. A fight behind the scenes, being a
most unusual occurrence in any well-regulated
theatre, is always visited upon the party who is in
the wrong by the utmost rigor of the " rules and
regulations"-either an immediate discharge, or


fused to " march through Coventry" with his a heavy penalty in the way of stoppage of salary
company-I was determined I would no longer must be submitted to by the offender. Hunt
march through Georgia and Alabama with mine; stood in this predicament. He had brought the
so, repairing to New Orleans, the word was pass- misfortune upon himself, and in an apologetic
ed around that "recruits" were wanted for my letter the next morning he acknowledged his
last traveling campaign, and a very short time fault to the fullest extent; but, inasmuch as he
sufficed to fill the list, which is here annexed:  was suffering for his indiscretion, and would be
Mrs. Sol. Smith, Mrs. Gay, Mrs. Sullivan, Mrs. prevented, at least for several weeks, from apM'Donald; Messrs. J. M. Field, Spencer, C. W. pearing on the boards, my mind was made up at
Hunt, Langton, Gay, Washburn, Sullivan, De- once to treat him with great leniency; in fact, I
cius Rice, Flagg, and Rutherford. Leader of determined to say nothing at all about the affair,
the orchestra, H. C. Walsh.                 and permit him to rejoin the company whenever
I note here the decease of Mr. J. Purdy Brown, his arm should be healed.
manager of the Mobile Theatre, on the 7th of   The season closed-so did the broken bone of
June, 1834, after an illness of only a few hours, Hunt's arm. The treasury was opened for the
caused, as it is supposed, by eating crabs for sup- payment of salaries for the final week in Augusper at a late hour.                         ta. As was my custom at that time, I attended
Conceiving that too many details of the busi- personally to this ceremony. Piles of silver and
ness must tire the reader (it certainly tires me bank-notes were laid out before me on a table in
to write them), I will confine myself to a very the director's room; the receipt-book was ready,
brief compendium of our proceedings during this and the clerk was directed to admit the peryear.                                       formers, one by one," to receive their salaries.
The company was certainly better, by several The door was opened, and the first individual
degrees, than any which had preceded it in the that appeared was the broken-armed comedian,
circuit, but the receipts fell far below those of Hunt!
previous seasons.                              " Ah! is that you, Mr. Hunt? Good-mornAt Montgomery, to begin with, we played two ing"-thus I greeted him-" glad to see you out.
weeks; at Columbus, four; Macon, six; and Arm quite well?" I asked.
then proceeded to Augusta, at the earnest re-  "Thank you, yes," he replied, taking a chair
quest of many of the most respectable citizens.  which I pointed to. "I have suffered greatly for




MANAGER AND ACTOR CHANGE PLACES.


105


my folly," he continued; " only catch me getting
into a fight again, that's all!"
"That's the right feeling, Mr. Hunt, "I remarked. " Such scenes are disreputable in every way. Let this be a lesson to you."
"It shall, most assuredly," promised the
repentant comedian.  The conversation here
ceased, and I began to count over a "ten" pile,
in hopes my visitor would take his leave and
permit the payment of salaries to proceed, as I
was in haste, intending to leave the city for Milledgeville the same afternoon. Finding the comedian did not exhibit the least sign of departure, after a few commonplace observations respecting the fine weather for traveling, I ventured courteously to suggest that I should be
happy to see him some other time, it being " salary day," and a busy one for me-the people
waiting"'Ye-es,"replied Hunt-" salary day; that's
just the reason I came in at this very time. My
salary has been lying in the treasury during the
whole season of four weeks; and as we leave
this afternoon, why, I thought-"
" Your salary, Mr. Hunt!" I exclaimed, with
some surprise; "I was not aware there was
any thing due you. If my memory serves me,
every thing was settled at the close of the season
in Macon."
"Decidedly," admitted Hunt; " every thing
was paid up fair and square; but it is this season's salary I speak of, and which I have called
to receive."
"My dear sir," I remonstrated, "you don't
imagine, I hope, that you are entitled to salary
during the time you have rendered no service?
Your hurt was not received in the performance
of your professional duties; on the contrary, you
received it while engaged in a most unpardonable breach of the rules and regulations, which
not only subjects you to a heavy fine, but renders
you liable to an instant discharge, as you know
and have admitted; and now-"
"That is all true," interrupted Mr. Hunt,
"but-"
" Hear me through," I continued; " and now,
instead of coming to ask leave to rejoin the company at Milledgeville, and perhaps ask a loan of
a small sum, which very likely would not be refused under the circumstances, it appears you intend to set up a claim for salary during your
confinement. Am I right in supposing such to
be your intention?"
"Most indubitably you are," was my friend
Hunt's reply; " that is," he continued, "so far
as my claiming something in the way of salary,
you are right. I do think you ought to allow


me at least a portion of the amount which would
now be my due, had not this untoward accident
happened. Gentlemen of the army receive half
pay when they are wounded or retire from service. What say you? Let us compromise this
matter; give me half salary for the four weeks,
and we'll have no more words about it."
The coolness of this proposition almost upset
my temper. The rules and regulations which
he had agreed to and signed stipulated that " no
salary should be received during sickness or
when no services were tendered;" and although
I had always been in the habit of making some
allowance in cases where performers received an
injury while in the exercise of their duties in the
theatre, I could not see the least reason why the
treasury should be taxed in a case like this,
where there had been a decided breach of the
rules, and where the fault was acknowledged to
be on the side of the party now claiming salary.
" I can not admit this claim," I said, firmly.
"I intend to reinstate you in your situation at
the next town, considering that your sufferings
had atoned for your fault; moreover, I now profess myself ready to loan you some money, if you
stand in need of it, to enable you to settle up
your bills here and travel to Milledgeville. This
is all I can or will do."
"Then I consider you act unjustly," replied
Hunt, surlily, rising and taking his hat. " Here
have I been suffering for a month, confined to
my room, earning nothing, subjected to expenses
of boarding, washing, and surgical attendance,
and now to be fobbed off without any salary for
four weeks-really it is too-"
" Fobbed off?" I rejoined-" fobbed, sir? Is
it not enough that I should be deprived of your
services during the whole of the season? Must
I now be accused of acting unjustly because I do
not entertain your absurd claim, and pay you for
your improper conduct?"
The discussion was waxing warm, and there
appeared to be no chance of coming to an understanding; the company were all waiting in the
next room for their salaries. I became impatient, and at length proposed that we should call
in two or three members of the company as arbitrators; but to this Hunt objected, saying that
he thought he was capable of attending to his
own affairs, and that he would not give up his
own judgment for that of any person living.
"Well, then," I replied, "to your judgment
and sense of justice I will submit the matter.
Here, take this seat. You shall be the manager,
I the actor. You shall be judge in your own
case."




106


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


Mr. Hunt very readily took possession of the
vacated chair, graciously remarking that my
proposition convinced him that I was indeed the
upright and just man he had always taken me to
be. I felt quite confident that he would view
the matter in a proper light when he came to see
it in all its proper bearings.
Taking Hunt's late position in front of the
table"Mr. Manager," I began, "the season being
ended, I have come to request that the outrage I
committed on the first night, and which has laid
me up for a month, may not be in the way of my
restoration to the company, inasmuch as I have
suffered greatly from the serious hurt I received
on that unfortunate occasion."
"Yes, yes," replied Manager Hunt, with a
dignified wave of the hand, "that is all understood; join us at Milledgeville, and let us have
no more such scenes; they are disgraceful in the
extreme. What more?"
" Well, sir," continued I, still in the character
of the suppliant invalid, "perhaps, as I have been
so great a sufferer, you may not think it unreasonable that I should ask some pecuniary accommodation?"
"It is but reasonable," replied the manager
pro tern., promptly; "that matter has been
thought of.' Have you no other request to
make?" he inquired, turning round in the chair
and taking up a pen.
"Yes," I replied, hesitatingly, "I have been
thinking-though really I am almost ashamed to
mention it-that possibly you might allow me
half pay during my confinement; in short, as it
is a delicate matter, I leave it entirely to your
own sense of justice to decide whether I shall receive any thing from the treasury or not."
"Ahem! yes, I understand," said my locum
tenens. Casting a cursory glance over a copy of
the rules and regulations which happened to lay
before him, riveting his eye for a moment at the
particular section which had been violated, and
uttering two or three emphatic " hems," he then
proceeded slowly to pronounce judgment in the
case as follows:
"Young man, you have done very wrongvery wrong indeed; but, on the other hand, you
have suffered very much-I am fully sensible
how much; therefore we will let that pass. The
offense has carried its own punishment with it.
I have already told you that you are restored to
your situation. In regard to your application
for pecuniary assistance, I scarcely know what to
say. You speak of half pay. This, I am disposed to believe, would scarcely reach your merits-certainly not your necessities. Your rapid


improvement in your profession has not been unnoticed by the management; your conduct, with
the single exception of the case under consideration, has been most exemplary; your salary is
not large-and, in this connection, I may say a
small addition to your weekly income has been
thought of; but the season has been so unpropitious that this is not the proper time to carry out
my intentions concerning you; therefore, taking
every point into consideration, and acting upon
the principle of returning good for evil, which, as
a good Christian, I feel impelled to do-THERE!"
(with great composure selecting six of the tendollar piles before him, and magnanimously pushing them, one by one, across the table)-" there,
my boy, is the WHOLE OF YOUR SALARY TO
DATE. Sign the receipt."
*    *    *    *    *    *    *   *
The judgment was of course affirmed when I
resumed the managerial chair. Hunt pocketed
his sixty dollars, and retired perfectly satisfied
with his brief term of management, and I proceeded with the payment of salaries to the other
members of the company, who had been kept
waiting by the enactment of this singular scene.
Hunt afterward justified his proceeding by saying he acted on the golden rule-" Do UNTO
YOURSELF AS YOU WOULD OTHERS SHOULD DO
UNTO YOU."
At Milledgeville, during the session of the
Legislature, we made a moderately successful
season of seven weeks, performing all of the
most legitimate tragedies and comedies before
the intelligent Georgians to their perfect satisfaction. J. M. Field was a good leading actor,
Mrs. Smith a great favorite, and the company
fully equal to their support. The Shaksperian
plays we gave were MACBETH, KING LEAR, ROMEO AND JULIET, MERCHANT OF VENICE, RICHARD III., and MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.
One of our best actors we parted with about this
time for breaking his temperance pledge. I
have something to say about this actor before
parting with him.
Giving Entertainments.
Harry Langton was the theatrical name of a
very honest, tolerably talented, and very eccentric fellow who, for several years was attached
to the stage in the South. He wa#a worthy individual, a useful member of a company of actors, and was beloved by every one who knew
him, yet he was cursed with one failing-he
would drink. Well, he is gone now, and we will
think only of his good qualities, which were nu



AN ENTERTAINMENT IN VICKSBURG.


1_07


merous, and endeavor to amuse ourselves with
his eccentricities.
I have elsewhere mentioned the fact that, being pushed for means whereby to live, he engaged himself to the keeper of a museum in
Pittsburg, where he stood up in a glass case for
two mortal hours as the wax figure of General
Jackson! I intend, in this sketch, to give some
other instances of his versatility of talent, by the
exercise of which he overcame temporary pecuniary difficulties.
Harry Langton never let an opportunity slip
of giving an entertainment where there was the
least chance of success. Sometimes, indeed, I
have known him to propose " trying it on" at
places where the chance of profit was any thing
but flattering. Traveling in a stage-coach, he
was always looking out for eligible villages for
his purpose, and I recollect that on one occasion
lie seriously proposed to issue bills for an " entertainment" at a place where we stopped to water
the horses, though nothing in the shape of a
dwelling could be seen, except a shanty of a stable!
"Why, Harry," one asked, "where do you
expect your audience to come from?"
" Oh!" was his ready reply, " there are plenty
of people hereabouts somewhere, I'm certain, for
I've seen lots of cattle as we came along, and
they've got owners, be sure on't. Let us put out
some bills and 'try it on!'"
In two instances it has been my fate to assist,
much against my will, in poor Langton's entertainments.
In the fall of 1830, the boat which conveyed
the New Orleans company on its way from Nashville to its winter destination stopped a few hours
at the then inconsiderable village of Vicksburg.
Langton was on the look-out, of course, and, after
taking a view of the town, came in, rubbing his
hands, and with his face flushed with hope.
"      Sol," said he, "here's a glorious chance for
an entertainment. Theatre can be had-people
all anxious-if the boat would only wait-"
"But the boat won't wait," I replied; "the
captain has just told me he starts in half an
hour, positively."
"I think he might be induced," persisted
Langton. " It is now four o'clock; we can have
the town billed in an hour, and we can put a
hundred dollars in our pockets just as easy as
nothing. What do you say to trying it on?"
"What do I say?    I say it's all nonsense,
even if the boat would wait. You could not get
twenty people to the theatre at such short notice.
Besides, you are an entire stranger here; nobody
has ever heard of you."


" That's very true," he answered, nodding his
head knowingly; " but they all know you-you
have acted here."
"To be sure I have," I answered, "but you
don't expect me to make a fool of myself in your
proposed entertainment?"
"Make a fool of yourself! Not at all; but I
expect you to make fifty dollars! Come, old
fellow," he continued, beseechingly, "give us a
lift. There are four of us going into the speculation, and we propose to give you half the receipts, if you will but permit your name to be
used, and sing three songs."
"My dear fellow," I remonstrated, "I can't
think of it. Besides, the captain won't wait,
and, moreover, my wardrobe is at the bottom
of the hold, and can not be got at. Your offer
is very tempting, certainly-[half the receipts!
Macready's terms!]-but put this entertainment
out of your head."
" The captain will wait, and has alreadypromised to wait till ten o'clock, so it all depends on
you. As for wardrobe, I'll lend you a red wig
and a pair of striped stockings. Come, old fellow, if you don't want to mnake a little money, we
do, and it all depends on you whether we are enabled to do it or not."
After some farther holding back on my part,
and considerably more urging on that of Langton, I consented to sing two songs, provided sufficient notice could be given to the inhabitants
that the entertainment would take place.
"Leave the notice entirely to me," said Langton, as he vanished over the plank, and rushed
up into town through the mud.
Langton won my slow consent about sundown.
I had hopes that when he found the difficulty of
lighting the house and giving notice to the citizens, he would give up the project altogether.
Not so. Langton was not the man to be staggered by slight difficulties. The entertainment
must be given; doors open at 7, curtain to rise
at half past, and " no postponement on account
of the weather."
After tea, without much devotion to the deed,
I assure you-putting a wig and a pair of comic
stockings in my pocket, I trudged off toward the
theatre. On my way (in the dark), a negro bellman, who was the town-crier, stopped at a corner as I was passing, and, after shaking his bell
for nearly a minute, put me out of all doubt in
regard to the " notice" which was to be given of
the proposed entertainment by promulgating, in
a loud voice, the following proclamation:
"Oh yes! oh yes! oh yes! Every body take
particular notice hereby dat Ole Sol has come
back to dis here burg on his way to New Or



108


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


leans, and, moreover, will exhibit hisself dis night
at de the-a-tur as large as life! So dis is to certify dat you must all come and see him, by particular desire, for dis night only! Oh yes! oh
yes! oh yes!"
I felt willing at that moment to sink into the
mud even farther than I had sunk while listening to this proclamation, provided I could have
availed myself of such an accident as an excuse
for not "exhibitin' "myself pursuant to notice.
However, I was in for it in more senses than
one. I was engaged, and on starring terms!
So I waded to the theatre, where I found Langton and his associates lighting candles, selling
tickets, and sweeping off the stage preparatory
to the grand entertainment. The house was tolerably well filled. SYLVESTER DAGGERWOOD
was the drama performed on this memorable occasion. Two songs by your humble servant, and
some recitations by the "rest of the company,"
completed the programme, and I returned to the
boat, declining to take my share of the proceeds,
and made a solemn determination never to be
coaxed into such a scrape again.
"But who shall control his fate?"
I was again seduced to do the very same thing
on another occasion, and by the self-same Langton.
It was at the little town of Benton, on the Alabama River, in 1832, that Langton saw a fine
opportunity for giving an entertainment. (We
were again traveling together.) The seducing
villain ipade use of the very same arguments he
had urged so successfully at Vicksburg: the boat
would wait-the people were so anxious to see
me!-such a crowd would be in attendancefifty dollars, at least, he would be able to put into
his pocket, and he was so in need of money-he
was sure I couldn't have the heart to prevent his
making such a handsome sum. I consented.
The room selected for the "entertainment"
was exactly fourteen feet square. It was filled
to overflowing, and we were obliged to give our
songs and recitations on a table set outside of a
window!
The only remarkable part of this performance
was this: Langton gave the comic recitations
and songs, while I gave the tragic recitations
and sentimental songs!
By this queer entertainment, given through a
window, Langton cleared over $40.
Poor Langton! He went to Texas in the beginning of the war of independence, and I have
never seen him since.
In his last letter to me, giving a portion of his
travel's history, he began by expressing his belief


that I would find no difficulty in calling him to
remembrance-shall I everforget him?-said he
had just returned from giving an entertainment
in one of the Camanche villages on the northern
frontier, where he narrowly escaped scalpation,
and concluded with the following sentence:
" Sol, if you'll come to Texas, we'll make our
fortunes-glorious chances here for giving entertainments-come out!"
Deciding to go directly to Montgomery, without stopping at Macon or Columbus, we made
arrangements for our journey of three hundred
miles, which-we accomplished, after undergoing
unheard-of hardships, in ten days, at an expense
not much short of $1000, without reckoning the
salaries of the company. At Caleba Swamp we
found about three thousand persons waiting for
the mending of a bridge. If any one is curious
to know some of the incidents at this "wateringplace," let him purchase J. M. Field's "Drama
at Pokerville," and turn to the sketch entitled
"A Night in a Swamp."
Opened at Montgomery on the 3d of January,
1835, with the HEIR AT LAW and 'TIS ALL A
FARCE. Next night we played HAMLET and
MY AUNT-Hamlet, Mr. J. M. Field, his first appearance in Alabama.
It has often been said of me that I have been
"an actor of all work." It is measurably true.
I had an opportunity, about the time I am nowwriting about, to exhibit the versatility of my talents in a new line of business. The members of
the Episcopal Church had purchased a very nice
organ, but, there being no one in the place who
knew any thing about putting it up, it had lain
in a basement room for a year or two, and the
owners had about given up all hope of ever hearing it in operation. Accidentally learning the
state of affairs, I volunteered to put up the organ,
if two or three laboring men would lend me their
assistance. Two of the church-members readily
undertook to assist me, and in two days the instrument was ready to be played on. I had never
done any thing of the kind before, but the pipes
were all clearly marked, and I found no difficulty at all in putting them in their places. The
organ being up and ready, the next thing was to
find somebody to play upon it. After faithful
inquiry, not a living being could be found who
knew any thing of organ-playing, except a chap
who said if it was a hand-organ he could turn the
crank, he thought. At length, rather than that
these good Episcopalians should go without music now they had an organ ready to be played on,
I had to volunteer my own services for a few
weeks, until Mr. Evans, my leader, could learn to




COMIC DANCE BY A STATUE..


109


play. My services were accepted with thankfulness by the whole congregation, and, a choir being immediately formed, the beautiful services of
the Episcopal Church were given ever afterward
with organ accompaniments, much to the gratification of the people.
During this season Mrs. Drake acted with us
a starring engagement-so did Yankee Hill, and
-last, not least-HENRY J. FINN.
Urged by the citizens of Wetumpka, I sent
my dramatic forces, under the temporary command of Brev. Gen. J. M. Field, to that remarkably primitive city, where a considerable business was done in a billiard-room, hastily transformed into a theatre, during a season of two
weeks. Mr. Charles Mason, a nephew of John
Kemble, played here three or four nights, to
good houses.
Haynesville, in the opposite direction, now
claimed a visit; and in a large room in the
academy, a little out of town, the drama shed
forth its influences on audiences who gave no
token whatever of their appreciation of our efforts. For twelve successive nights we exerted
ourselves for their edification, and to this day I
am in utter ignorance whether our efforts were
satisfactory or not, for not a hand of applause
greeted us during the whole time, neither did a
smile-a laugh was out of the question-shed its
ray, to cheer us on in our' task. Yes, there
was one attempt at a slight smile-indeed, I
might say that a real jolly laugh was on the
point of breaking out on one occasion; but it
was checked in its incipiency. It was during
the performance of the HYPOCRITE, Act v, where
Mawworm mounts on a table behind a screen
and gives an extemporaneous discourse, which
on this particular occasion was interlarded with
some local hits, which actually took effect upon
one tall fellow standing in a corner near the
stage. A premature " Ha! ha! h-" was bursting out, when one of the deacons of the Presbyterian Church arose from a chair with great solemnity, and addressed the quasi disturber of the
assembly thus: " Mr. Thompson, you must quit
that or leave the meeting." Mr. Thompson
"shut up."
" Old Jack Barnes," with his wife and daughter Charlotte, came to play an engagement toward the end of the season in Montgomery,
opening in the SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL, in the
first scene of the second act of which, a fat negro
wench, being told to hold up Miss Barnes's train
until she got to the wing, followed Lady T. upon
the stage, and remained there, holding up the
train, during the ceremony of reception, which,
under the circumstances, was an uproarious one,


and reluctantly leaving, with a low courtesy,
only when Sir Peter (Mr. Barnes) told her that
her services were no longer required.
On one of " Yankee Hill's" nights (with shame
I confess it), my name was associated with his in
the committal of a horrid murder!-Richard and
Richmond being the characters in which we perpetrated the dreadful deed.
Our prompter's name was Gay. He performed old men, personated marble statues, and
danced comic hornpipes. On one occasion, the
performances ending with DON JUAN, in which
Gay enacted the part of the murdered governor
on horseback (a statue), the audience demanded
a comic dance before they would leave the house.
"What is to be done?" asked Gay, in a piteous
tone, the perspiration bursting out through the
Spanish whiting on his face. "It will take at
least a quarter of an hour to prepare for a
dance!"
"Not at all," replied I, promptly; " go on as
you are."
" What!" said Gay, " go on for a comic dance
dressed as a marble statue?"
" Yes-as the marble statue; it will be all the
more comic"-and up went the curtain.
The audience relished the dance hugely; and
I must say that the marble statue, dancing to
the tune of "A frog he would a-wooing go," was
a most original and mirth-provoking affair.
During the engagement of the Barneses we
performed the farce of THREE WEEKS AFTER
MARRIAGE. It will be remembered that there is
in this piece a matrimonial quarrel about a game
of cards. A fellow in the pit had listened to the
dispute with much interest until the end of the
first act, when, just before the fall of the drop,
Sir Charles, in reply to his lady's invitation to
go to bed, exclaims, "I'll not go to bed with
any woman who don't know what's trumps."
The man in the pit got up in utter surprise, and
said, in a tone loud enough to be heard by the
whole house, "Well, you're a cursed fool to quarrel about such a trifle! Blast me if I wouldn't
confess to the diamond, and go to bed!" The
drop scene again rose, and soon the newly-married couple were again engaged in their dispute
about the game of whist, and, to convince his
wife of her error, Sir Charles went up to the
table and dealt out the cards. The man in the
pit called out and asked "what's trumps?" Sir
Charles just at that moment said "clubs!" and
his lady " diamonds!" which appeared to be answers to his question; whereupon the auditor
took up his hat and made for the door, exclaiming, "I sha'n't wait any longer; they've been
quarreling here for half an hour about clubs and




110


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


diamonds; I don't see as there's any likelihood
of their coming to an understanding, so I'll go;
it's getting late." This speech elicited a round
of applause from the pit. Turning as he was
about passing through the opening into the passage, he addressed Sir Charles and Lady Racket
-"Young people, you'd better make up that little difficulty and let the play go on; it's of mighty
little consequence what was trumps; make it up
and go to bed!" Then, looking up at the audience, who were roaring with laughter, he made
a low bow, and retired from sight, lit a cigar at a
lamp in the passage, shook the door-keeper by
the hand, and walked off.
Matthew Field, who afterward became a good
actor, and somewhat celebrated as a writer (under his own name and that of Phazma), made
his first appearance on any stage in Montgomery as Hemeya, in the tragedy of the APOSTATE,
Mrs. A. Drake performing Florinda. The debut
was a successful one; but the " last scene of all
in that eventful tragedy" was rendered somewhat
ludicrously. If the reader is not aware of the
fact, I must inform him that Mrs. Drake is what
we term a heavy actress-how well I remember
her a slim young girl in Albany, more than fifty
years ago!-and Florinda dies and falls beside
Hemeya at the close of the piece. Mat. Field
had got through his troubles, and lay dead and
stiff, congratulating himself on the success he
had met with on his first attempt at acting, when
he suddenly perceived that Mrs. D. was preparing for " a fall" in the immediate vicinity of his
own resting-place. I was watching Mrs. D.'s


splendid death, and it must be confessed that
poor Mat. did appear in considerable danger of
being fallen upon by the poisoned Florinda. At
first there were sundry twitchings of the arms and
legs of the dead Hermeya; then, as the body of
the devoted Florinda was seen actually descending, a sudden spring of her lover's corpse placed
it out of danger, and there they both lay, " faithful to each other even in death." When Mat.
found that he was not crushed, it seemed to
occur to him that it was not altogether proper
or picturesque to turn his back to the lady, so
he very deliberately turned over, and, stretching
forth his dead arms, encircled her with them in a
loving embrace, the curtain falling on the picture.
Mary Vos (afterward Mrs. Stewart) performed
a few nights "previous to her departure for the
Eastern cities."
The season and my "country management"
ended on the 10th of June, 1835, with my benefit, which was very largely attended, notwithstanding the extremely hot weather; my Montgomery friends, without resorting to the humbug
of a "complimentary," filling the house to its
utmost capacity, and cheering me with their
shouts and kindly greetings to the last.
Here ends my SECOND ACT, and rather a long
one it is; but I wanted to get through with my
"management" in the rural districts before taking the reader with' me into my metropolitan experiences, which I propose to hurry through with
less regard to detail than has characterized the
recital of the incidents of the first twelve years
of my theatrical life.




ACT THIRD.
1835-1840.


CHAPTER I.
To begin with, and as a preliminary to the intended opening in Mobile, the reader, if he (or
she) wishes to keep with me, must be my companion in a sort of starring tour to the North.
Negotiations, pending for some months, had
resulted in an arrangement which was to sink
my managerial individuality in a "firm" destined to exist, as it now appears, for eighteen
years, wielding an influence in theatrical matters
unequaled in the States. In the following fall
this arrangement was to go into operation at Mobile. In the interim, it was necessary that I
should "go North" to pick up a company and
engage stars. A glance at this Northern trip
must be brifly noticed.
Leaving my wife and children in a snug little
cottage at Harrowgate Springs, near Wetumpka,
I started on my Northern journey, in company
with Mr. J. M. Field, about the middle of June,
passing through Mobile and New Orleans, and
embarked on the steamer Warren for St. Louis.
A friendly Game of Poker.
On the evening of our second day out from
New Orleans I found myself seated at a cardtable, with three of my fellow-passengers, playing at the interesting game of " poker." Cardplaying was a very common amusement then
(1835), and it was not unusual to see half a dozen tables occupied at the same time in the gentlemen's cabin of a Mississippi boat. I had sat
down at the gamefor amusement, but on rising
at ten o'clock I found my amusement had cost
me about sixty dollars! " This won't do at all,"
said I, thinking aloud; " I must try it again tomorrow."  "Of course you must," replied one
of the poker-players, who happened to be an old
acquaintance of mine from Montgomery, Alabama, where he had been a jailer for several years,
and where he was considered a very respectable
citizen. " You must not give it up so," he continued, following me out on the guard; " to-morrow you'llget even." I entered into conversation
with my old acquaintance, whose name was


Hubbell or Hubbard-I don't remember which
-we'll call him Hubbard-and he advised me
by all means to try another sitting on the morrow. I suggested to him that a slight suspicion
had crossed my mind that some of our card party
might possibly be blacklegs-in other words,
gamblers. He answered that the same thought
had struck him at one time, but he had come to
the conclusion that all had been fair. Before
leaving me, my quondam friend told me that he
had become a sporting man-he felt it his duty
to inform me of it-but he assured me, upon his
honor (!), he would not see me wronged. Of
course I believed him, and it was agreed that we
should try our luck again.
Next morning, soon as the breakfast things
had been cleared away, I found Hubbard and a
friend of his waiting for me at one of the cardtables, and I took my seat with the hope of getting even-a hope which has led many a man into
irretrievable ruin. I felt quite confident of winning back my losings overnight, and my playmates gave me every encouragement that I should
be successful. At it we went, playing with varying luck for about two hours. At about eleven
o'clock Hubbard's friend left us for a few minutes
to "get a drink," and the jailer and myself were
left playing single handed. When the third man
left, we were using the "small cards," as they
are called-that is, sixes and under; but Hubbard immediately proposed that we should take
the "large cards" (tens and over), which I agreed
to, as a matter of course. One thing I here observed-my friend, the jailer, dealt the cards
without shuffling. This made me resolve to
watch him closely. Taking up my cards, I was
agreeably surprised to find I had an excellent
hand. " Now," thinks I to myself, " now is the
time, if ever, to get even; if my adversary only
happens to have a decent hand, I shall do well
enough."
[The reader who does not understand the
game of "bluff," or "poker," as it is most generally called, may as well leave off here.]
I commenced the game by bragging a dollar.
My adversary went the dollar, and five better.
I went that and ten. He immediately put up




112


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


the ten, and laid down a twenty, keeping his five hundred, and-a thousand better —on a
pocket-book out, as much as to say, "I am ready credit." At this stage of the game the third
to go any thing you choose to bet." After a hand returned, and seeing at a glance how matmoment's reflection (all acting), I said, " I go ters stood, requested to look at Hubbard's cards.
that-and fifty." "All right," replied the jailer, "No, sir," interposed I, "you must play your
"there it is; I go that and a hundred!" I here own cards," at the same time motioning my
looked at my cards again, and affected to have opponent to lay down his cards as I had laid
great doubt whether I should go the hundred. down mine. The carpet began to suffer at about
" Take back your last bet," I urged; " it is too this time-the spit-box was disregarded. The
much for either of us to lose: I begin to think I excitement among the passengers was great, and
have been rash; take it back, and let us show my ears received many a whisper that I was
our hands for the money already down." "No," "licked."  Hubbard took a long and earnest
said Hubbard; "if you mean sporting, put up look into my eyes, and said slowly but confidentthe hundred, or back out and give me the money." ly, "I GO IT-AND-CALL YOU."  "I suppose
"Can't do that," I replied; " I don't come from  I'm beat," said I [hypocrite that I was! I didn't
a backing-out country; I must have a showing suppose any thing of the kind]; "but turn over
for the money that's down-so there's the hun- your papers and let us see what you've got."
dred; and, as my pocket-book's out, and my With one hand he gracefully turned over FOUR
hand's in, there's another C." This new bet KINGS and a Jack, and with the other tremseemed to please my friend Hubbard mightily. blingly "raked down" the pile of bank-notes,
He answered it without a moment's pause, and gold and silver, while a groan burst out from the
went two hundred more! I now requested my spectators, who all seemed to regret my bad luck.
opponent to permit me to show my cards to some "You are as lucky as a jailer," I remarked, as
of the by-standers, who were crowding around the my friend began to smooth down the V's, X's,
table in great numbers to see the fun, all con- L's, and C's. "By-the-by," he inquired, again
sidering me most undoubtedly "picked up." resorting to the spit-box, and looking over patHubbard would not agree that I should show my ronizingly at me, "I forgot to ask what you had."
hand to, or take advice from any one. "Play "Well," I replied, calmly, "I think you might as
your own cards," said he, reaching over, and well see my cards."  "Ha! ha!-oh, I reckon
gently compelling me to lay my cards on the you're beat, my friend," he answered; "but let's
table before me. "Then," said I, "you tell me I see your hand, at all events."  " Here are the
if THREE ACES and two other cards can be beat?" documents," replied I; " there's my hand!" and I
"Oh yes," he replied, smiling with a self-satis- turned over my cards one by one: "there's an
fied air, and using the spit-box, "they can be ACE-and there's another-and there's another!"
beat, certainly, but not easy."  "Not easy, I "A pretty good hand, young man," remarked
think myself," replied I; "therefore, inasmuch Hubbard-"three aces! What else have you?"
as I believe you are trying to bluff me off, I go "What else? Why, here's a QUEEN."  "And
the two hundred." "You do!" "Yes, I do; what else f" asked every body. "Another ACE!"
there's the money."  "Any thing better?" in- -FOUR ACES!!! * * * I looked over the
quired my adversary, insinuatingly, and leaning table and discovered the face of my lately elated
over to make use of the spit-box again, all the FRIEND had lost all color; the tobacco-juice wvas
time keeping his gray eyes fixed upon my coun- running out of the corners of his mouth; the V's,
tenance. "Why -yes," I answered, " since X's, and C's were dropped, and amazement and
you've got me excited, I will go something better stupefaction were strongly imprinted on his feat-I go two hundred better than you." Looking ures. A shout went up from the by-standers,
me steadily in the face, he said, " Well, you're and all hands were invited to take Champagne at
a bold fellow, any how, for a novice: it takes all my expense.
I've got, by hokey, but I go it; and, if you'll let  It is scarcely necessary to say that the money
me bet on a credit, I should like to go back at bet on a credit was never paid, nor was it ever
you." (Spit-box.) Feeling confident of win- expected to be paid. My friend Hubbard recolning, I consented that he might go what he liked, lected he had urgent business at Vicksburg, and
on a credit, provided I should be allowed the left the boat. It so happened that the stranger
same privilege. " Well, then," said Hubbard, a who had played with us also disembarked at the
little spitefully, "I go you five hundred better-  same burg, where they met with a singular acon a credit." (Spit-box again.) "The devil you cident, being promiscuously hung, a few days
do!" exclaimed I: "this looks like gambling; afterward, by a mob! Hubbard died game, and
but, since we're in for it so deeply, I go you the spat upon the excited populace.




STAGE TRAVELING THROUGH OHIO.


113


A FRENDLY GAME OF PO/KE. (See page /   112.)
A FRIENDLY GiAMIE: OF POKES. (See page 112.)


About a month after the adventure above related, I met a gentleman in Cincinnati whom I
instantly recognized as one of my fellow-passengers on the Warren. After inquiring the state
of each other's health, he asked me if I had played any at the game of poker lately. " Not since
the great game you witnessed on board the Warren," I replied. "Do not play any more," said
he, assuming a serious air; " you are liable to be
fleeced. I saw you were in the hands of swindlers," he continued, "and, when one of the fellows left the table, I noticed that he laid a pack
of cards he had been shuffling near your adversary's elbow. As an experiment (passing by at the
moment), I took the top cardfrom the pack and
shoved it under the bottom, by which means you
got the four aces intended for his partner, while
he got the four kings intended for you; and thus
the sporting gentlemen were caught in their own
trap! "
MORAL.-Poker is decidedly a dangerous
game to play at, particularly with strangers;
but when you find yourself in possession offour
aces, GO IT WITH A PERFECT RUSH!
H


In due time we arrived at St. Louis, where we
had an engagement, early in July. Here I was
welcomed in the good old-fashioned way and had
a good benefit.
Mr. Field opened in RICHARD THE THIRD,
and was quite successful.
Cincinnati was our next town. Mr. Field was
well known here, and was warmly received,
though there was some little talk to the effect
that they liked his comedy better than his tragedy. His benefit was a very fine one. For myself, falsifying the saying that a prophet is not
without honor except in his own country, the
people seemed determined to shower honors
"thick upon me;" and my benefit - it was a
"crowder." Mr. Field and I here took different routes, he proceeding to Buffalo, where I believe he played (afterward filling an engagement
at Baltimore), while I went on to head-quarters
-New York.
A Postmaster General in Disguise.
On my way, in company with several gentlemen of New Orleans, it happened that the stage
in which we were passengers stopped for supper




114


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


at a small village situated between the towns of
Columbus and Zanesville, on the Cumberland
Road, in the State of Ohio.
There was a great gathering of militia captains, lieutenants, ensigns, sergeants, and corporals, with a considerable sprinkling of privates,
all of whom had been exhibiting their patriotism
during the day by marching up and down the
road, shouldering arms, carrying arms, presenting arms, and charging bayonets, preparatory to
intended hostile operations against the neighboring State of Michigan, the authorities of which
and those of the State of Ohio were at open war
-almost-about boundary.
For the purpose of amusement, it had been
agreed that the stage-driver should be informed
confidentially that I was Amos Kendall, Postmaster General of the United States, traveling
in disguise, and assuming the very common
name of Smith, in order to discover abuses in
the mail transportation department. With many
mysterious hints, and under strict charges of secrecy, Jehu was made acquainted with the awful
fact that he was actually driving the important
individual above named. The reins almost fell
from his hands! "What! Mr. Kindle-Amos
Kindle!" exclaimed the astonished driver; "it
can't be possible!" "It is possible," answered
the gentleman who was imparting the information, and who was enjoying a cigar and an outside seat; " and it is his wish to be entirely private, in order to avoid the attentions that would
otherwise be lavished upon him." The driver
promised the most inviolable secrecy, and on our
arrival at the stopping-place, after bowing me
into the house with much ceremony, proceeded
to curry down his horses.
We had not been long in the hotel before it
was plainly perceptible that something was going
on: curious glances were thrown into the barroom where we were sitting-militia officers flitted about and collected into groups-the landlord and his family began to spruce up; in brief,
it was evident our secret had been confidentially
imparted to half the village.
The first demonstration that was made consisted of an invitation to my friends and myself
to accept the use of a private parlor. This being
at once agreed to, the landlord ventured to suggest that, if it was not disagreeable to me, my
fellow-citizens of the village would like to pay
their respects to me and take me by the hand.
"No objections in the world," said I; "let the
worthy citizens come in."
Then followed a scene of the richest kind of
fun; but Dickens has since described a similar
adventure, and I pass on.


Supper was announced. I was placed at the
head of the table-all standing until I was seated; the richest viands and nicest kinds of preserved fruits were set in profusion before us. We
feasted; and during the operation numerous female heads, or, rather, heads of females, were
continually popping in at the windows and open
doors, while the piazza was filled with boys of all
sizes, who amused themselves by firing off Chinese crackers, sending up young rockets, and
shouting "Hurra for Jackson!-and his cabinet!"
Supper over, we retired to the bar, and demanded our bill of expenses. The landlord
smilingly answered that he was too happy to entertain us without compensation; he felt honored by my sitting at his board, and my friends
were equally welcome. After much urging, I
consented to receive his hospitality, since he insisted on it; but myfriends, I would not consent
that they should feast at his expense. They must
be allowed to pay for their splendid supper. Well,
if I insisted, he would take pay from them-and
he did.
"Could I say two or three words to you in
private?" asked the landlord, in a low voice, as
he walked by my side toward the coach, which
was waiting.
" By all means," I replied; and he led me a
little on one side, into a dark part of the piazza.
After two or three hems to clear his throat, the
landlord commenced:
"Whatever others may think of you, sir, I
consider you an honest man."
"Sir, I feel very much obliged by the favorable estimate you have formed of me."
"Yes, sir; let the opposition say what they
please, I believe you to be a conscientious individual-I do."
"'Well, sir, considering this is the first time
we have ever met, I must say your liberality is
extraordinary; but I thank you for your good
opinion."
" Ah! sir, though we have never met, I know
you well; we all know you for a most efficient
officer and a deserving man."
"It is true I am tolerably well known in the
Western and Southern country, and as for my
efficiency, I believe I do push ahead about as hard
as a man conveniently can."
"That you do-all parties must acknowledge
it. You have effected many improvements in
your department."
"Yes, I flatter myself that in the stage department I have made some improvements."
"Your removals have met with general approval in this part of the country."




ENGAGEMENT AND CASTS AT THE PARK THEATRE.


115


"Removals? Oh, yes, I do travel a great     This engagement, although I was wedged in
deal."                                       between the nights of the Woods, was moder"Yes, you do, and to some purpose. Now I ately profitable to the management and myself;
wanted to speak to you about the postmaster I soon received offers from Boston, Philadelhere."                                       phia, Baltimore, Pittsburg, and many smaller
"Indeed! Well, what of him?"             towns, all of which, for want of time, I was com"Are you not aware that he is a Whig?"   pelled reluctantly to decline, except that from
"No! is he?"                             Philadelphia, which I was enabled to accept, be" Yes, he is; and it is thought by the friends cause I could perform alternate nights in that
of the administration here that he ought to be city and New York, which I did during a period
removed, and a good Democrat appointed."     of two weeks. My engagement at the Walnut
" What is the office worth?"             Street Theatre, Philadelphia, closed on the 25th,
"About $500 a year."                      and that at the Park Theatre, New York, on the
"Who would be a proper person for the office?" 26th of September.
"Why, I couldn't exactly say; but if-"      The following notice of the latter event is cop" Would you accept the appointment?"     ied from the New York Spirit of the Times, ed"Most willingly, if you should think me wor- ited by William T. Porter:
thy."                                         "Old Sol's Benefit. -On Wednesday evening
"Well, I'll tell you what you'd better do. Mr. Sol. Smith-or, as tho Philadelphia play-bills
Write on to the department; state the matter call him, 'the Liston of the South'-took his
as you've stated it to me, and perhaps-"    benefit, and we were glad to see a crowded house.
The performances weat off admirably. His per"If you would just make a memorandum it sonation of Kit Cosey, in TowN AND COUNTRY,
would be sufficient."                       was excellent. In the LYING VALET, Mr. S. kept
" My dear sir, don't depend on any thing that the audience in a continual roar of laughter.
passes between us here. Here I am Sol. Smith, Upon the whole, ' Old Sol' has every reason to
as you may see by the way-bill but at Wash- be gratified with his visit to New York, for, not
as youto say any thing of the fame he has acquired,
ington-you understand-"                     the profits must have been something handsome.
"Yes, I understand. Then I'll write on to At the close of the performances Mr. Smith was
the department."                             ' called out' by the audience, when he addressed
" Yes-write."                             them nearly as follows:
"Sir, I shall depend on your good offices.  " LADIE   AND GENTLEMEN, -In answer to
Sir, you may. Your supper was excellent; your flattering and unexpected call, I can only
say that, for the kindness and indulgence with
your attentions shall not be forgotten. Farewell. which my efforts have been received during my
Write on to the department, by all means."  brief engagement at this house, and for the very
The worthy aspirant to the postmastership of large attendance on this my benefit night, you
are entitled to my heartfelt acknowledgments.
the village accompanied me to the coach, care- are entitled to my heartfelt acknowledgments.,  If you can estimate an actor's feelings, you will
fully turned up the steps when I had entered, not think me vain when I say that I shall always
and then joined his' fellow-citizens in three loud remember with honest pride that I have percheers, with which our departure was honored.  formed with a degree of success (however small)
on the boards of Old Drury-the first theatre il
Arrived at New York, arrangements were soon the first city of the Union. I assure you it will
Arrived at New York, arrangements were soon be my constant endeavor, wherever my lot sh 11
made for my opening at the Park Theatre, Mr. be cast, so to demean myself, as an actor, as a
Simpson very willingly according me an engage- man, and as an American citizen, that I may
ment as a star, although he had declined my deserve, and continue to deserve, your approbaservices as a stock actor (at $6 per week) ten tion. With these brief remarks, destitute of
form as they are, but made with the sincerity
years previouslyf truth, I respectfully take my leave, not, howI opened in the comedy of the HYPOCRITE, ever, without expressing the wish (to use the
with the following cast of the characters:  language of the honest citizen whose character
I have this evening attempted to portray) that
Doctor Cantell............ Mr. Clarke.     you may always be "what I call comfortable." '"
Sir John Lambert..........Mr. John Fisher.
Col. Lambert..............Mr. John Mason.  CAST OF TOWN AND COUNTRY AT THE PARK
Darnley................... Mr. Richings.                THEATRE, 1835.
Seyward.................. Mr. Wheatley.   Kit Cosey (of the town)..... Mr. Sol. Smith.
Bailiff...................Mr. John Povey.  Peter Trot (of the country).. Mr. John Fisher.
Mfr. Mawworm.............Mr. Sol. Smith.  Reuben Glenroy............. Mr. J. M. Field (volOld Lady Lambert......... Mrs. Wheatley.                            unteered).
Young Lady Lambert......Mrs. Gurner.     Rev. Owen Glenroy..........Mr. Clarke.
Charlotte.................. Mrs. Hilson.  Capt. Glenroy.............. Mr. Wm. Wheatley.




116


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


Plastic...................... Mr. Richings.
Jacky Hawbuck............  Mr. H. Placidce.
Ross...................... Mr. Povcy.
Williams...................Mr. T. Placide.
Hon. Mrs. Glenroy.......... Mrs. Gurner.
Rosalie Somers..............Mrs. Hilson.
Mrs. Moreen................Mrs. Wheatley.
The LYING VALET was cast thus:
Gayless.....................Mr. Richings.
Timothy Sharp..............Mr. Sol. Smith.
Beau Trippet................Mr. T. Placide.
The great Charles Mathews was the last performer of the part of Sharp before me in the
Park Theatre, as appeared by the cast-book;
the other characters about the same as with me.
Embarking on the steamer Columbia, I in
due time arrived at Charleston, S. C., and proceeded by railroad and stage (three nights without sleep) to Montgomery. Taking my family
on board the Roanoke at Wetumpka, we were
safely conveyed to Mobile, where I superintended the preparations for commencing the greatest
season then ever made in that city.
CHAPTER II.
MOBILE, Ala., has at times been one of the,
best theatrical cities in the United States, and
at other times the worst. When, in 1834, the
death of Purdy Brown threw the theatre into
the market, many managers were anxious to obtain it. Being on the most friendly terms with
the administrator of Mr. Brown's estate, Thaddeus Sanford, Esq., and being possessed of some
means, I have but little doubt I could have secured a lease of the house against all competitors, but I entertained a foolish idea that the
person who had established the drama in Mobile, and who had been driven from the field by
fire and bad seasons, had a sort of pre-emption
right to the city; so I wrote to him, proposing
we should take the theatre together, if we could
get it, and carry on the management in partnership. The answer came promptly, agreeing to
my proposition, and it was settled we should meet
in Mobile the following October, there to perfect
our plans and prepare for a vigorous campaign,
combining our two companies for the purpose.
Sickness in my family prevented my keeping the
appointment we had made, but I wrote an authorization for my proposed partner to do for me
all thai might be necessary to secure a joint lease
of the theatre, and assuring him that I would set
out with my company at a day's notice for Mobile. My correspondent succeeded in securing
the theatre for one season, but he took it in his
own name, and I was thrown overboard! Some


sharp correspondence followed, ending in nothing.
He had the house for that season sure, and I was
obliged to fulfill the engagements with my company in Montgomery and neighboring towns, instead of in Mobile, losing considerable money,
while the " sole lessee" at the latter city made a
handsome sum -sufficient, as he informed me
afterward, to relieve him from heavy pecuniary
embarrassments, occasioned by fires and other
misfortunes.
I visited Mobile in the following spring, prepared to purchase the theatre at the then forthcoming sale of Brown's estate. This becoming
known to the temporary lessee, he became not
only willing, but quite anxious to perfect our
original design of forming a partnership. Not
being able to purchase the property without involving my friends as securities for part of the
purchase-money (though they were quite willing
to lend me their names), I consented to the following arrangement, which was eventually carried out: Mr. Charles Cullom, afterward joined
by others, would purchase the theatre, make all
necessary alterations and repairs, and rent it to
us for ten per cent. on the cost.
I have not named the person with whom I
joined my fortunes, nor do I intend to do so. I
never have thought, nor ever shall I think, his
taking the theatre on his own account, to my
exclusion, was justifiable under any rule of fair
dealing, but as I condoned the act by entering
into partnership with him afterward, I consider
myself estopped from taking any exceptions now,
even if I were inclined to do so. There are
other reasons -business matters which have
transpired since the dissolution of our partnership-sufficiently cogent, in my mind, to keep
the name of the individual 'referred to forever
out of my books.
The season of 1835-6 opened on the 9th of
November with the play of the HUNCHBACK, the
cast of which I do not remember, except that
Miss Riddle sustained the character of Julia,
and J. M. Field that of Sir Thomas Clifford.
Probably Matthew Field plaved Master Walter.
Talented men were the brothers Field, and honorable in all their dealings. Miss Riddle was
the original actress of Julia in America, having
performed it with the author in Philadelphia.
The receipts on that night amounted to $541 25;
ROMEO AND JULIET, the next night, only produced $209 50; and VENICE PRESERVED, on
Wednesday, yielded still less; WIVES AS THEY
WERE, WIFE, and SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL, filled
out the week, the total receipts of which amounted to the very moderate sum of $1655 75. The
following week opened with a benefit to M`iss




FOUR POWERFUL AUSTRIAN SOLDIERS.


117


Riddle, which gave a total receipt of $352 only;
after which began the first star engagementthat with Mr. Barton, then newly arrived in this
country, afterward for several years acting manager of the St. Charles Theatre, New Orleans.
I had known Mr. Barton before, at Montgomery,
where he had acted with me, and where we had
passed many pleasant hours drinking tea (yes,
literally drinking tea!) and discussing the play
of HAMLET.
William Tell Crushed.
Mr. Barton opened in WILLIAM TELL, and,
bating that he had a weak voice, caused by asthma, and a rather imperfect utterance, the result
of bad teeth, a noble representation of that hero
he gave.
In the second act, it will be remembered, Wiliatm Tell is seized by the Austrian troops, under
the command of one Sarnem, and loaded with
chains, by order of Governor Gesler. At rehearsal, as is usual, I called four of our " useful" people to do the seizing, but Mr. Barton requested
that, instead of the actors doing this business, I
would select four strong supernumeraries, and to
them intrust the task of seizing and crushing him
down.
"I always find," said Mr. B., "that supers
do this business best; they are unused to the
conventionalities of the stage, and therefore act
naturally."
So it was arranged in that way.
"Instruct them to crush me down," added Mr.
Barton; "let them understand that at the cue
they are to rush upon me, and, not paying the
least attention to what is said or what I do, they
are to c-r-rush me down, and hold me there till
the curtain falls."
"All right," said I; "we have some pretty
strong fellows among our supers, and they will
undoubtedly crush you down, and keep you
down."
"The stronger the better," replied Mr. B.;
"and be sure to tell them to keep me down
when they have got me there."
" Never fear," I rejoined; "they will keep you
down, undoubtedly."
At night I selected four of the strongest fellows I could find, and asked the stage manager
to take charge of two of them on one side; I
took the other two, and stationed them exactly
opposite. Being extremely anxious that the
scene should go well, and all depending on the
final tableau, I was very particular to give the
supers their orders-in short, they stood ready
at the cue to leap like tigers upon their prey.


"Seize him!" exclaimed Sarnem; and they
did seize him. As soon as they were told to
"go," they were upon him! And oh! how
quickly poor Barton found himself crushed
down!
"Let me up; you are murdering me!" gasped the unfortunate Tell. But there was no
"letting up" there-no, sir. They had been
told not only to crush him down, but to hold him
there, regardless of any thing that should be
done or said, and they obeyed their orders most
implicitly. In vain Tell struggled with his captors-in vain he swore they were killing him.
There they held him, and there they would have
held him during the remainder of the night, if
the fall of the curtain had not put an end to
the scene. Poor Barton, puffing and panting,
breathing asthmatic curses against the strong
supers, was carried to the greenroom, and the
performance was delayed a full half hour for his
recovery.
Here this anecdote should end; but I can not
resist the temptation to add the following, to
show how differently two persons sometimes
may tell the same story:
About three years after this occurrence, I was
dining with Caldwell, Barton, Finn, Holland,
and a few other congenial souls in New Orleans,
and was greatly amused by the recital of this anecdote by Mr. Barton. His version of it was
very correct down to the time of the crushing
business, which he gave in about the following
words:
"Smith and his stage manager, each with a
pair of Titans at the wings, were ready watching
for the cue for seizing me. At length it was
given, and, gentlemen, the four Titans, under
the instructions of old Sol, who, I believe to this
day, meant to murder me, r-r-rushed upon me
like a tornado, and, seizing me by the arms and
shoulders, began to c-r-rush me down. I called
on them to wait, but there was no wait in them;
down, down I felt myself going, and I found it
was necessary to put forth my full strength to
prevent being prematurely 'crushed to earth;'
so, gathering all my energies, I planted myself
firmly on my feet, and bracing myself up as well
as I could, with a gigantic effort I threw them
off, and before they could recover from their
astonishment and the momentum they had received, I finished the few words I had to say,
and then calmly submitted to my chains. I tell
you, gentlemen, I never have fallen into the
hands of such strong men as those four Mobile
supers, and I assure you it took all my strength
to get out of their clutches."




118


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.
-         /1/)j,I/  A  CA.   f


WILLIAM TELL " CRUSHED." (See page 117.)


The engagement with Barton was not very
successful. Miss Vos, on whose account there
was quite a cabal organized against Miss Riddle
at first, opened to a fair house, but the receipts
fell down to a low figure during her starring
nights until her benefit, which was a good one;
and then came that stroke of managerial policy
of playing the rival actresses in the same pieces,
when the admirers of each rallied and filled the
house for nearly a week.
Mr. James E. Murdoch, who was a member of
the company at the St. Charles, New Orleans,
appealed to me to give him a chance of a starring
engagement in Mobile, and I did so; and this
was his "start" as a star. He performed his
round of comedy characters for six nights. Even
at that early period of his professional life, Mr.
Murdoch was a very pleasing actor, and had very
few, if any equals as a light comedian.


Attempted Row in Mobile.
Mr. and Mrs. Tiernan were the next stars, and
they were successful in every way. It was during this engagement that a few discontented individuals attempted to get up a little "row"
against the writer of these memoirs, which proved
very amusing at the time, and the relation of the
particulars of which may cause a laugh even. at
this distant day.
On the accession of the present management
of the Mobile Theatre, we found a small cabal
or "clique" regularly organized in opposition to
us. The persons composing it had been in the
habit of managing the former manager (the lamented J. P. Brown), and desired to manage us
as they had him-claiming, as a collateral right,
free access to the greenroom and dressing-rooms,
with Champagne and punch, oysters, and other
refreshments.
Just before the time of raising the curtain on




A CABAL EFFECTUALLY SQUELCHED.


11'9


the first night, a paper was sent to the manage- monstrous outrage, and would be held accountment anonymously, most respectfully announc- able for it; that a respectable citizen had been
ing that the " performance would not be allowed obliged to take his wife out of the boxes in conto proceed" unless a satisfactory reason could be sequence of the personal allusion I had made
given why Miss Vos had not been engaged as to her situation, and that the first time I should
leading actress. It had always been a custom  appear on the stage it was determined I should
with me to pay no attention whatever to anony- be hissed off! The alleged offense was commous letters; but, on consultation with my old mitted on Monday, 21st. On Friday, 25th, I was
friend Thaddeus Sanford, it was agreed that upon in the bill for the Mock Duke, in the comedy of
this particular occasion an explanation should be the HONEY MOON, Mr. and Mrs. Tiernan apmade, and it was made by the writer hereof, ap- pearing as the Duke and )Duchess of Aranza.
parently to the satisfaction of every person in the A few hisses were mixed with the applause with
house, to wit: that the lady had publicly an- which my entrance was greeted; but the scene
nounced, the previous spring, that she was going proceeded without interruption until the newlyEast to reside permanently; on the strength of married couple had had their hearing before the
which assertion the citizens of Mobile had given supposed duke, and retired to "wear out a
her a tremendous "farewell benefit." It was month at least as man and wife," when a voice
true, I said, she had afterward applied for an en- was distinctly heard from the second tier of
gagement with us, but she was too late, another boxes, pronouncing these words, " Now, BOYS,
actress (Miss E. Riddle) having already been GIVE IT HIM!" But the " boys" did not muster
engaged for the situation. " However," I con- courage to let out the full force of their indignaeluded, " if Miss Vos comes here, as we are in- tion while I remained on the stage, preferring to
formed she intends to do, she can yet be received, wait until I had finished my soliloquy and made
if she is willing to share the leading parts with my exit; then came the combined hiss of thirtythe actress who is to be introduced to this public six people, which produced any thing but an
to-night." I was dismissed with loud applause, agreeable sensation on my nerves. The general
and we hoped all trouble was over in that quar- audience were astonished at this outbreak against
ter; but we eventually found that the members one of their greatest favorites, and a considerable
of the above-mentioned clique were determined din was raised in cries of "Shame!" "Hush!"
not to be fully satisfied with any thing. Miss etc. Mrs. Tiernan met me at the side wing, and
Riddle, though welcomed warmly by the general said, "Mr. Smith, whatever be the cause of this,
audience, was saluted, upon her entrance, with a you had better stop the play, and come to an exfew hisses, which were occasionally repeated planation with your audience; something is the
during the whole performance. At the close of matter, and you may depend upon it you had
the play, however, the applause was so over- better meet the affair at once."  Without a mowhelming, and her triumph so unmistakable, ment's hesitation I ordered the curtain to be
that all opposition was given over, and the mal- lowered; with a towel, and a little soap and wacontents appeared to join in the verdict awarded ter, removed the paint from my face, enveloped
to the debutante.                           myself in a large cloak, and walked forth before
On the arrival of Miss Vos she was immedi- the curtain to meet the storm. My appearance
ately engaged, and all went on satisfactorily for had the effect to produce a perfect stillness in
a while, the party feeling which sprung up the house. Bowing low, I began addressing the
among the playgoers-between the Vos-ites and audience in the following words:
the Riddle-ites-contributing not a little to in-  "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,-I have had the
crease the nightly receipts at the treasury.  honor of appearing before you at various times
The opposition, though silenced for a time, during several years past, and never before towas not entirely abandoned; the "clique" only night have my efforts been visited with tokens
waited a fit opportunity to manifest their hos- of disapprobation. I have frequently attempted
tile feelings without the show of injustice.  to act the part which I am attempting to-night,
In the musical afterpiece of a ROLAND FOR AN and I have always been rewarded with approbaOLIvEI, Sir Mark Chase is required to say, tion, unmixed with those peculiar sounds I have
"My family are all mad, and I believe I shall heard on this occasion; hence I feel quite cersoon be in thefamnily way myself!" When I tain the disapprobation is not intended for my
delivered this sentence, amidst the loud laughter acting. I come before you to ask those who
and applause which followed, several hisses were have thought proper to hiss me for the cause-"
perceptible. I thought nothing of it at the time,  A voice from the second tier. "Old Sol, you
but the next day was told I had committed a said you were in thefamily way!"




120


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


I continued, " Is that the charge against
me?"
Several voices. "It is! it is! family way. You
must apologize."
"Well," I continued, "I have heard the
charge; I shall not pretend to misunderstand
the accusation, for I have heard something of
this out of doors. I do not deny having used
the expression; on the contrary, I admit the
fact, and I must say I don't perceive the least
harm in the sentence. It is spoken by all who
perform the character of Sir Mark Chase, and I
can not see any reason why I should be called to
account for speaking that sentence more than for
any other speech of the author-"
Several voices. " It is not in the author; it is
your own language"-" silence!" —" hear him!"
-"turn 'em out!-" hush!" —" Sol, go on!"
"I think I heard some one say the objectionable sentence is not in the author?"
Ben Wilkins. " It is not in the author."
" I think-Mr. Wilkins-Mr. Benjamin Wilkins-Squire Wilkins-you said it was not in the
author?"
Wilkins. " Yes, I did."
Voices. "Turn him out!"-" hurra for Ben
Wilkins!"-" hurra for Old Sol!"-" silence!"
-"hush!"
"Will the prompter please to procure a book
of A ROLAND FOR AN OLIVER from the office?"
I asked, slightly drawing aside the curtain.
Voices. "Yes! yes!"- "the book!"-" the
author!"-" hurra for Old Sol!"-" hurra for
Wilkins!"-"Wilkins, get on the stage!"-" the
book!"-" turn 'em out!"
Here Benjamin Wilkins, Esq., a justice of the
peace in and for the County of Mobile, jumped
upon the stage, and commenced parading backward and forward near the foot-lights. His advent was greeted with cheers from his party and
hisses from the general audience. The book
came at length, and I began to turn over the
leaves in search of the obnoxious speech, Wilkins all the time saying, " Yes, let's see it; you
say it is in the author-show it to us-let us
have it." It seemed like looking for a needle in
a haystack, and at one time I almost began to
think I had been mistaken, and that I should be
convicted of interpolating my own language as
charged. All this time my friends in front were
offering to bet large sums that I would find the
passage. I did find it! and, handing the book
to Mr. Justice Ben, pointing with my finger to a
certain passage, asked him to read it to the audience. Wilkins took the book and kneeled down
to the foot-lights; then, laying the book on the
stage, very deliberately took out and put on his


spectacles, took up the book with a look of triumph, evidently with the full belief that the passage was not there, and began to pore over the
page. At least a minute elapsed without his
giving any indication that he was satisfied. The
audience began to exhibit symptoms of impatience, and I confess the scene became a little
tiresome to me. I ventured to repeat the request that he would read the passage to the audience. He looked up and replied, "When I
find it, sir, I will." This raised the hopes of the
clique considerably, and my friends began to
think there was something wrong. However,
we were not kept long in suspense, for Justice
Wilkins soon appeared to be satisfied, shut the
book, put away his spectacles, and, rising from
his knees, said, "By G-d, gentlemen, we are
wrong, and Old Sol is right." This announcement was followed by rounds and rounds of the
most solid applause I have ever heard within the
walls of a theatre. My triumph was complete.
After the enthusiasm had subsided a little, some
of the audience began to call out for a song from
Ben Wilkins; others greeted him with hisses and
groans. This enraged him very much, and he
stamped with rage, exclaiming, " Gentlemen, I
will challenge any man that hisses me." This
created great mirth, and I took the occasion to
say, "You can now judge how it feels to be hissed."  "Yes," says Ben, in an undertone to me,
" d-n me if I ever hiss any body again. Sol, get
me out of this, for heaven's sake-let me out!"
I made a short address to the audience, asking
my friends to forget and forgive, which was goodnaturedly responded to, and I helped Brother
Ben up the same way he had come, through a
private box. The play proceeded, and on the
entrance of the Mock Duke, in the fifth act, there
was a most thundering round of applause, and no
hisses. The " clique" disbanded, and the members were my warmest friends ever after.
Miss Phillips, from Drury Lane, London, performed a good engagement:
Yankee Hill was moderately successful for a
few nights. I have reason to remember his engagement for the following reasons, among others: He purchased some real estate, paying part
cash and giving notes for the balance, which
notes, amounting to some $800, I paid, Mr. H.
having requested I should do so in case his funds
to meet them did not come to hand. Mr. Hill's
funds never did come to hand to pay the notes,
and I am to this day that amount out of pocket.
Years afterward I obtained a judgment against
him for the amount, but did not get a cent, as
the " Yankee delineator" took the benefit of the




A NEW THEATRE PROJECTED IN ST. LOUIS.


121


act for the relief of insolvent debtors; and that
was the last I ever heard of that $800.
An engagement with Mdlle. Celeste was a
very great one, eclipsing all other engagements
of the season.
Daddy Rice (Jim Crow Rice, as he was called)
played a few nights to fair houses, and had a fine
benefit. I was playing in Louisville, Ky., in
1830, when Rice was composing his great song,
and perhaps helped him a little in fixing a tune
to it. This Jim Crow song, which afterward
was so popular in this country and in England,
was first sung by Rice in a little piece entitled
the RIFLE, which was written, I have understood,
by Solon Robinson, now and for many years past
the agricultural editor of the New York Tribune.
Miss Meadows, a child under the tutelage of
Mrs. Brown (a sister of Vincent de Camp),
played successfully in starring parts. If that
child had continued on the stage, she would
have become one of the best actresses that ever
trod the American boards. She married early,
and was no more seen.
Mr. Charles Mason and sister were quite unsuccessful in drawing audiences, but gave great
satisfaction to the judicious few who attended
their representations. Charles Mason, one of
the most gentlemanly actors I ever knew, is a
nephew of the great Kembles. He is, I am
happy to state, still extant, and "well to do" in
the world. I had him by the hand a day or two
ago, in Broadway.
Mrs. Clara Maeder (late Clara Fisher) performed a successful engagement. This admirable woman is one of the very few precocities
whose popularity has survived their infancy.
Miss Nelson and Mr. Henry J. Finn played
good engagements. Other persons of less note,
or rather of no note at all, attempted to edify the
good citizens of Mobile during the season, but
failed to entitle themselves to even a mention
here. The business of the season gave a profit
of about $20,000.
CHAPTER III.


poet Moore, and, when quite young, became the
wife of John Duff, who was so conspicuous a
member of the old Philadelphia company. Mr.
and Mrs. Duff for many years maintained their
position at the head of their profession.
During this season Mrs. Ludlow, a gentlewoman greatly esteemed by all who had the
good fortune to know her, took her farewell of
the stage. She has since taken her farewell of
the earth.
A new theatre was projected, which was to be
built by subscription, to be located at the corner
of Third and Olive Streets, much against the
judgment of several members of the building
committee, who thought Second Street " as far
out" as we ought to go for a site, and rather inclined to Main Street, or Market Street, between
Main and Second Streets, as the most desirable
location. The foundation was laid and most of
the scenery painted during the summer.
The season was successful on a small scale,
and I laid out my share of the profits in the purchase-giving a bonus of $1200 to the original
purchaser-of twenty acres of land in the St.
Louis Common, which I was entitled to hold
ninety-nine years, renewable forever, on paying
five per cent. interest on the purchase-money,
with the right to obtain the fee-simple title by
paying, at any time, the sum of about $4000. I
held this land and paid the interest for several
years, when-wait, and I'll tell you how I came
out on that speculation.
Wouldn't Eat his Breakfast.
I think it was during this summer that, as I
was passing through Olive Street, I observed a
large crowd assembled in and about the door of
a justice's office, where a trial was going on for
assault and battery. Inquiring of a by-stander
the nature of the case, I found that my old friend
Captain Alexander Scott was the defendant, and
the prosecutor (represented by Charles D. Drake,
now a U. S. senator) was one of the deck-hands
on board of the Madison, then, and for years afterward, under Captain Scott's command. Having traveled with Captain Scott in the old North


IN St. Louis, at the old theatre in Second or America as long ago as 1828, and having then
Church Street, commonly called the "Salt- formed a very favorable opinion of him as a comhouse," a season was made with nearly the mander and skillful pilot, I immediately began
same company that composed the force in Mo- to feel an interest in the suit now pending. Takbile. The stars were Miss Riddle, Mr. J. M. ing a seat by the justice's side, in a whisper I
Field, Miss Nelson, Mrs. Drake, Miss Meadows asked leave to act as counsel for my old friend,
(quite successful), Mrs. Prichard, Mrs. Lewis, which was most courteously and immediately
and Mrs. Duff, so called, though she was then granted. The counsel for the state examined a
married to J. Sever, Esq., a lawyer of New Or- great number of witnesses, who all testified that
leans. This gentlewoman was the sister of the Captain Scott had struck the prosecutor with a




4


122                 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.
handspike because he had refused to eat his ers, now only remembered by the old citizens,
breakfast.                                 several of whom I saw on the jury, down to the
I sat silently observing the progress of the present time, when he stood in the front rank of
trial, and did not interpose a question to any wit- that host of industrious and enterprising citizens
ness until the prosecutor himself was sworn, who known as RIVER MEN! I then put in a few
stated in substance the same facts that had been touches about his kind-heartedness; his attensworn to by the other witnesses, and was about tion to the wants of his crew and passengers;
taking his seat, considering the case made out, his habit of always saying, "Come, boys," and
when I quietly desired him to remain and answer never " go;" his good standing, not only in his
a few questions which I proposed to propound to profession, but as a man and a citizen. In short,
him. The witness returned to the stand, not a I praised him for " no quality he had not," but
little surprised to find a new actor in the scene. set forth those he had in as fair a light as posThe prosecuting attorney seemed a little sur- sible, at the same time representing the proseprised too, and appeared disposed to demand cutor as an ungrateful fellow, who, instead of
oyer of my license to practice; but Justice Shep- being gently knocked down by my client, deherd, in a whisper, told him it was all right, and served to be put in irons for his mutinous conI proceeded with my cross-examination. I asked duct. I concluded by asking the jury if, with
questions at random (for I knew nothing of the these facts before them, they could convict the
case until I had heard the evidence for the pros- prisoner?
ecution), but, as luck would have it, hit upon  I plainly saw the impression I had made upon
the right chord, and made the poor fellow con- the jury was favorable, and I patiently listened
fess that he had been very turbulent on the to the somewhat lengthy argument of the state's
morning of the assault, and for a day or two pre- attorney, with almost a certainty that he was
vious; and he repeatedly acknowledged, in reply working up-hill. Justice Shepherd told the jury
to my questions, that Captain Scott had always that, after the very able arguments they had been
been as a father to him, treating him with the listening to, he felt it would be useless to add any
greatest kindness until the very morning the as- thing, and the case was submitted. It was the
sault was made upon him, and that even then he custom then, and is now, for aught I know, for
had struck him because he was obstinate, and the court and spectators to retire into the street,
would not eat his breakfast. I gave the prose- leaving the "gentlemen of the jury" in possescuting witness leave to retire, and, on being sion of the court-room. We all left the officeasked if there was any testimony for'the defend- prosecutor, defendant, justice, lawyers, and lookant, promptly answered, "No, we rest the case ers-on-and I was making my way out of the
here!"                                     crowd, when my attention was arrested by loud
Captain Scott seemed as much astonished as words from my client, who was hauling my
any one to see the part I was aoting; he had for- brother counselor (Drake) over the coals for havgotten me, and probably supposed I was some ing called him "tyrant" during his argument.
lawyer who had been retained for him by the   "My dear sir," expostulated Charley, in his
owners of the boat. Mr. Drake suggested that blandest manner, " no man has a greater respect
if I intended to address the jury, now was the for you than I have; in courts, we sometimes are
proper time, as "the state had the privilege of obliged to use expressions like those you comclosing."                                  plain of, but I assure you no harm was meant."
"Most undoubtedly, brother counselor," re-  "Ah! but that won't do," replied the captain.
plied I, "it is my intention to make a speech." "Young man, you must steer clear of me in your
And I forthwith commenced addressing the jury. speechifications, or mayhap you'll strike a snag!
I first summed up the evidence fairly, and ac- Now you didn't hear that other lawyer chap —I
knowledged the full force of its bearing against don't know who the h-11 he is, but he's a firstthe prisoner. I then took a rapid sketch of Cap- rater, any how-you didn't hear him say any
tain Scott's life, from the time he was employed thing to hurt a man's feelings."
as a " hand' on a flat-boat, when steam was un-  I was looking on this scene with great comnknown on the Western waters; his gradual rise posure, chuckling at the idea of Charley being in
to the situation of captain of a "broad horn;" something like a scrape, and wondering how he
his employment as pilot of the first boat which would get out of it, when I was suddenly and
breasted the waves of the Upper Mississippi; his roughly seized by the shoulder, and turned round
promotion to the captaincy of the same boat; like a turnstile, and who should stare me in the
his valuable and enduring services for years and face but the veritable prosecuting witness.
years as commander of numerous proud steam-   "Look here, my chap," commenced he, ram



GREAT SUCCESS OF CINDERELLA IN MOBILE.


123


ming a huge quid of tobacco into his cheek with
his thumb, " I think you told them there gentlemen of the jury as how I desarved being put in
irons?"
Endeavoring to draw him aside, I began to
soothe him as well as I could by telling him that
" we lawyers" were obliged sometimes to make
use of figures of speech to express our meaning,
assuring him at the same time that no person
had a greater respect for steam-boat-men than I
had; that what I did was to serve my client,
etc.; but he would not be pacified.
"As for figures of speech, old feller, I know
nothing about 'em; but I mean to show you that
in saying I ought to be put in irons, you have
missed your 'figure;' for, d-n your infernal
lawyer soul to d-nation, I'll let you know before
I've done with you that-"
I can not say what might have followed this
outburst of passion had not the court-room door
at that moment opened, and the jury appeared.
It was soon announced they were "hung," as the
term is when they can not agree; so they were
dismissed, and a new trial ordered. My client
came to me to ask what was next to be done.
Learning from him that " steam was up" on his
boat, and that he was going to Alton, I advised
him to "unhitch her" and "put out." He
grasped my hand with great energy, swore I was
the best lawyer he had ever fallen in with, and,
after signing a bail-bond, in which I joined, followed my advice.
The new trial was to take place next morning; but, meeting the prosecuting witness before
the hour appointed, I represented to him what a
fool he had made of himself; urged upon him the
policy of making up the matter with the captain,
and, resuming his situation on board the Madison, dropping the law proceedings altogether.
He was sullen and dogged at first, but by degrees
he melted, and finally burst into tears.
"If he hadn't struck me," said he, blubbering,
"I could look over all."
" Well, suppose he did strike you? He didn't
hurt you bad. Come, think no more of it-besides, the captain is sorry enough for it, now his
passion is over."
" Sorry? Does he say he's sorry?"
"', as his attorney, say itjbr him."
"Do you? Well, give us your hand: if he'll
take me back, I'll go."
" That's hearty; just step into the office and
settle the costs, and I'll take care the captain
will overlook all past differences, receive you
back, and ask no questions."
The fees were paid, the deck-hand gathered
his bundle, and we walked down to the landing,


where the Madison had just arrived from Alton.
The captain seemed a little obstinate at first, but
when I told him of the penitence of the man, and
assured him that the law business was at an end,
he said,
"Well, Bill, come aboard; go to work, and
behave yourself; but I give you one cautionnever again refuse to eat your breakfast."
CHAPTER IV.
ON the 9th of November commenced our second Mobile season, which turned out (probably)
the best ever made in that city. Vincent De
Camp was stage-manager and representative of
the "old men." J. M. Field, M. Field, and Tom
Placide were prominent actors. Miss Riddle,
Miss Vos, Miss Petrie, and Miss Emily Clarke
were in the company, and pieces without stars
were played in an admirable manner. We had
for stars this season Mrs. Drake, Mr. Balls, a
very clever light comedian from London, Mrs.
Sol. Smith (to fill up a gap), Mrs. Pritchard,
a Mazeppa Horse, Wallack, the Keelys, young
Burke, Finn, Mrs. Lewis, and some others. It
was a great treat to see Mr. and Mrs. Keely in
the LOAN OF A LOVER and the Swiss COTTAGE.
Their acting has never been excelled-that's my
opinion-in farces.
A grand military ball was given on the 22d of
February in the theatre, for the use of which the
committee paid two thousand dollars!
Toward the close of the season the opera of
CINDERELLA was produced in a very gorgeous
style as to scenery and appointments. The principal characters were cast thus:
Cinderella..............Miss Eliza Petrie.
Prince...................Mr. Larkin.
Dandini.................Mr. J. M. Field.
Baron................. Mr. De Camp.
Pedro....................Mr. Tom Placide.
I had calculated greatly on this piece, it being
the first opera ever presented with any completeness in Mobile. Music had always been my passion, and, if this opera succeeded, it was my intention to " go in" largely for the production of
that species of entertainment. I had personally
attended and directed the rehearsals for two
months, and, while I am free to admit that firstrate musical talent was not there to insure success, I do aver that every note of the opera was
sung and played, and the performance was highly creditable to all concerned in it. The success
was undoubted, the applause enthusiastic, and
(best of all, some may think) the house was
crammed.




124


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


Next day after the first performance I threw
myself in the way of a friend whose opinion I
valued, and asked him candidly to say how he
liked CINDERELLA.
"I like it well," he exclaimed, enthusiastically;
"it was finely performed; you have hit the fancy of the people this time; nothing could be better-it is magnificent!"
" Glad to hear it," said I. "The performance
took up rather too much time, but that will be
remedied to-night. Now tell me, if you please,
and I ask you as a friend to do so, is there any
thing in the performance which can be improved?
We frequently cut a piece after the first night,
and make changes in business which experience
teaches us may be beneficial and add to the effect. If you have any thing to suggest, now is
the time."
"Well," replied my friend, "there is one suggestion I will make, since you ask me to do so,
though please to understand I am entirely satisfied with the piece as it was performed last night,
and so, I think, is the public." He paused, and
seemed reluctant to name the proposed alteration; but, being urged again, he said, "You
speak of its being not unusual to cut a piece when
in the performance it be too long. I suggest,
then, friend Sol, and I am quite sure I speak but
the sentiments of the large audience in attendance last night, that you-cut out the music."
Good heavens! here had I been toiling for
months, drilling the choruses, rehearsing in the
greenroom with the piano and on the stage with
the full orchestra, and when at last the opera was
before the people, and had received their plaudits, to be told I had better cut out the music!
On the 19th of May was produced, for the benefit of J. M. Field, an original tragedy, written
by W. IH. Smith (I do believe he is now Governor
of Alabama), entitled AARON BURR, EMPEROR
OF MiXICO, the author personating the character of Burr. It was a good play, but was never
performed but once afterward. The author
brought the parts to the theatre ready printed.
The idea of carrying the action of the piece into
Mexico, and there placing the hero upon the
throne of the Montezumas, was a bold one, and
well carried out. Field, I think, played Blennerhassett, and Miss Riddle Theodosia. If the author is the man I suppose him to be, and will
send me a copy of this tragedy, I will exercise
all the influence I possess to have it produced in
one of our best theatres; and, if properly performed, I can not doubt of its success.
In the spring of 1837 a Mr. Ferry built and
opened a new theatre on Government Street, of
which more hereafter.


In an evil hour, and tempted, I almost think,
by some very evil spirit, if not the old d-1
himself, I bought a half interest in the Mobile
"Mercantile Advertiser," the other half being
purchased by Edwin Harriman. I paid part cash
(one third) and gave notes for the balance. It
was right in the commencement of bad times, and
my losses by this speculation were considerable.
The new theatre in St. Louis, being so far
completed as to allow of its occupancy, was
opened on the 3d of July with a PRIZE ADDRESS, the HONEY MOON, and SIMPSON & Co.
The company, nearly the same as in Mobile, was
very strong in talent and numbers. The Prize
Address was delivered by J. M. Field to an audience of about ten people, who thought it worth
their while to go to the theatre in time to see
and hear the beginning of the performance. It
being summer-time, eight o'clock came only about
half an hour after sun-setting; so, as nobody in
St. Louis thinks of going to the theatre or any
other amusement " before dark," it was all accident that there were a dozen or so of people (all
strangers) present at the time advertised for the
beginning of the exercises on this occasion —the
opening of the first real theatre west of the Mississippi River; and among this dozen or so was
the author of the Prize Poem, who happened to
be in the city, and who went especially to hear
the Address, which he had not the most distant
idea was his. He had sent his poem to the committee months before, from Greensburg, Penn.,
giving his name as Deacon Kurtz, that being the
name he used in writing for the newspapers in
his section. His real name was Edward Johnson, and he was afterward Secretary of State of
Iowa, then a territory. When he presented himself next morning and claimed the prize of $100,
announcing his name as Johnson, I at first felt
doubtful about "handing over;" but the matter
was finally settled by requiring Deacon Kurtz to
draw an order in favor of Edward Johnson, in
the handwriting of the poem, and the money was
then paid.
I insert the Prize Address, and seven of the
rejected addresses, which this " committee of literary gentlemen" must have found it hard to reject. I call attention particularly to the truly
poetic effusion of Caroline Hentz. Several others, in my opinion, possess decided merit, and
deserve to be exhumed from their coffins-where
they have slept for thirty-one years, even until
their authors have nearly all left the earth-and
restored to the light of day. With great pleasure I hand them to the type-setters.
There were seventeen addresses sent in. One
of the " rejected" I reserve for the Appendix.




PRIZE ADDRESS AT THE OPENING OF A NEW THEATRE.


12.5


PRIZE ADDRESS
SPOKEN BY J. M. FIELD, ESQ., AT THE OPENING OF
THE NEW ST. LOUIS TIEATRE, JULY 3,1837.
BY DEACON KURTZ.
When Freedom's flag was wide o'er Greece unfurl'd,
And Delphi was the centre of the world,
The Drama first uprear'd the rustic stage,
To smooth the manners and instruct the age;
And though hoar Time hath sped with ceaseless
flight,
And crush'd the splendors of that age of lightThough the famed monuments of that bless'd day
Have fallen to earth, and moulder'd in decayThough, vision-like, two thousand years have
roll'd,
And Greece is not now what she was of oldThe Drama still, to kindly feeling true,
Loves the bright land where first her childhood
grew,
Points to her Thespis, who, though rude in Art,
Touch'd the warm feelings of each generous
heart;
To iEschylus, who madden'd while he sung,
And o'er the lyre a hand of phrensy flung;
To Sophocles, who, gorgeous and sublime,
Lives to this day, and only dies with Time;
And to Euripides, whose plaintive song
Seizes the list'ner as it floats alongLeaves with the bosom liquid notes of woeSteals to the heart, and makes the tear to flow!
Where the rough Alps, with summits high and
free,
Look o'er the plains of fallen ItalyThe Drama there a look of pity throws,
For there, in days of yore, her anthems rose;
For then were heard the mirth and laughter loud
When Plautus' muse address'd the Roman
crowd;
When Terence, too, pour'd forth the comic song,
The cheers were high-the laughter loud and
long.
Again she casts her searching eyes around:
"Beware!" 'tis whisper'd "this is holy ground!"
Why? 'Tis on Britain's Isle our footsteps stand;
Nay, it is more-'tis Shakspeare's fatherland!
Here did that Master all our feelings scan,
Each nook, each recess in the heart of man;
Here brilliant Sheridan Fame's laurel won;
Here Johnson put his " learned buskin" on.
Flush'd with fond joy, she turns with rapturous
glance
To vine-clad hills and sun-bright vales of France;
Points to the Theatre with tragic mien,
And marks the passions of the stern Racine.
From those who pity, and who kindly feel,
She asks a tear-to shed with " great Corneille!"


Now, swift across the Atlantic wave she fliesWhere, reared 'mid wilds, her beauteous domes
arise!
Each hill and dale her thrilling voice has heard,
And Forests echo to the native Bird;
Throughout our land, where'er she chance to
roam,
She finds a resting-place-but here a home!
We dedicate to thee, oh! goddess bless'd,
This thyfirst temple in the far, far West!
Oh! fondly cherish this fair house of thine,
And shed around thy influence benign.
Let vivid images of by-gone things
Defile before our eyes like " Banquo's kings;"
Let Lear again enact his frantic part,
And sweet Ophelia steal the hearer's heart;
Let the kind audience feel a fond regret,
And weep with Romeo over Juliet;
Let Spartacus, again from bondage freed,
Not like a slave, but like a Thracian bleed;
Picture the scene where chaste Virginia fell,
And point to "freedom in the shaft of Tell!"
And may the sylph-like nymphs our joys enhance
By mystic trippings of the fairy dance
On Ariel's wing, and soft as brooklet's flow,
Their footsteps falling like the flakes of snowLet their lithe forms in mazy circles run,
And grace receive-what Taglioni won!
Let these fair walls with echoes soft prolong
The dulcet gushings of each soul-born songSweet as the euphony of Heaven's bright spheres
Strike the bland warblings on the, list'ner's ears.
Now to our audience-honor'd, learn'd, and
gayThe humble speaker hath one word to say:
If e'er loathed Vice should rear her hideous face,
Or in this tragic fane find dwelling-placeIf e'er this house with scullion jesting rings,
Or desecrated be to sinful things,
Let the bold actor his presumption rueBe cursed the player and his temple too.
But if the Muse, enlighten'd, never strays
Far from the pleasant path of Virtues ways,
Then shall fair Learning sanctify this dome,
And Joy and Science fix their lasting homeThe tragic muse shall high her sceptre rearThe sternest eye shall glitter with a tear.
Mild Thalia, too, shall all our griefs beguile,
And from the lips of sorrow steal a smile.
The rudest hearts shall feel the genial power,
And future ages bless this natal hour!
Then o'er the player be your kindness shedPour out a golden shower upon his head;
And may this house be ever richly bless'd,
And stars arise hereafter in the West!




126


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


Yes, 'tis a high and honor'd name it ownsCHAPTER V.St. Louis-the inheritor of thrones;
I DEVOTE a chapter to a few of the rejected Star of the crusade-pilgrim to the shrine
addresses.                                   Which kneeling nations worship'd as divine;
ADDRESS FOR THE OPENING OF THE NEW          Louis —the glory of a later age,
THEATRE IN ST. LOUIS.              The royal friend and patron of the stage.
BY CAROLINE LEE HENTZ, FLORENCE, ALABAMA.  Sons of St. Louis! while this name endures,
Why do we gather on this festive eve,        A proud, a kingly heritage is yours.
The wreath of genius and of taste to weave?  The flowers of genius and the gems of art
Why beam the walls with beauty's living flowers, Shall blush and glitter in your crowded mart;
While music ushers in the gliding hours?     And as ye guard this now unsullied pile,
We come, the votaries of the heavenly nine,  So shall those flowers in richest beauty smile.
To dedicate to them this virgin shrine;      Cold as the polar ice the heart that scorns
Not with unhallow'd pomp and orgies loud,    The ennobling scenes that tragic verse adorns;
With mystic rite and fragrance-breathing cloud, Which darkly turns, and breathes its blasting ba
But with those inspirations of the soul,     On that which may exalt the soul of man.
That, like all Nature's incense, heavenward roll. Oh! for a strain of such a magic spell,
In ancient days, when classic Greece was young, The echoes in this vaulted roof shall dwell
Her bards the praises of the Drama sung,     When fades the brilliant pageant of the hour,
And the sweet notes of that melodious age    Whose inspiration speaks the Drama's powerWere breathed in loftiest numbers from the stage. That power which ancient ages have confess'd,
Have ye not read when, in the dungeon's gloom, And unborn millions here may yet attest.
The vanquish'd Grecian warriors mourn'd their Unslumbering guardians of the public weal,
The mighty master of the tragic lyre  [doom, 'Tis yours the fate of this proud fane to seal;
Swept in the hostile camp its chords of fire,  To wake the voice of censure or acclaim,
The victors own'd the triumph of the strain,  And stamp this night with glory or with shame
Unbarr'd the bolts, and loosed the captive's chain?
Children of Freedom! could a nobler meed                      ADDRESS.
Than Freedom crown and consecrate the deed?        BY COARLES HARRIS, JR., BOSTON, MASS.
'Twas the same genius, whose presiding ray   Friends of the Drama! you of every age,


n


Illumes this scene, inspired that God-like lay.
Oh! by the memories clustering round each dome,
Where erst the muses made their hallow'd home,
By all the hopes that gild this lofty fane,
Preserve its unpolluted walls from stain.
If ever here the fair, unsullied rose
Of modesty, with wounded crimson glows;
If Virtue veil her angel-brow with shame
To see the fading of her heaven-born flame;
And oh! if here the shafts of wit are hurl'd
Against that Faith which glorifies the world,
Then may the hand of some avenging power
Destruction write on this devoted tower.
But no! a brighter vision dawns, to cast
The glowing future o'er the fading past.
The wave, that mirrors our exalted spires,
Bathed in the light of heaven's cerulean fires,
As here it rolls in gather'd grandeur by,
Shall long reflect it to the bending sky.
Ne'er, till this dome in classic beauty swell'd,
Have the bold dwellers of our land beheld
A temple, sacred to the Muses' rest,
West of the mightiest river of the West.
Roll on, in all thy opulence of streams,
Father of ancient waters! Tell the beams
That gild the Atlantic shores how pure the fame
Of this young city of illustrious name.


Who play your parts on life's eventful stage;
Free'd from its shifting scenes of endless strife,
With much of joy, but more of sorrow rife,
From every woe that makes existence drear,
We tender all a friendly welcome here.
If the poor actor in his nightly task
From secret vice remove the glitt'ring mask;
If he arouse within some potent voice,
Some hidden chord that makes the heart rejoice,
Or, faintly picturing forth ideal woe,
Bid the quick tear in silent rapture flow;
If he by skill, with modest merit join'd,
Seek to inform and elevate the mind,
May he not hope that you will kindly deem
His earnest efforts worthy of esteem,
And give the vot'ry of fair virtue's cause
His dearest recompense, your just applause?
He trusts he may; and now he asks of you —
Is it too much?-a friendly welcome too!
From the bleak regions of the stormy North
The fierce barbarian calls his legions forth,
And death and darkness, following in his train,
Drop their thick veil o'er Europe's fertile plain.
Her haughty fanes, her palaces are low,
And e'en " imperial Rome" is forced to bow!
Condemn'd to seek a more congenial home,
And o'er the world's wide wilderness to roam,




REJECTED ADDRESSES.


127


Sadly she look'd for one redeeming ray,
And for a time the Drama pass'd away.
But dawn is breaking on this starless night!
'Tis Nature rising in her native might!
What giant spirit on lone Albion's isle,
Breathing with life, and warm beneath her smile,
Grasps her chaste sceptre with a fearless hand,
And all her empire holds at his command?
Lo! rising fast, obedient to his sway,
Like Banquo's ghosts, a sad and grim array,
The mastering passions of the human breast,
In all their stern deformity confess'd!
What fairy beings from their " high estate"
Astonish'd gaze, and on his nod await!
What vast creations, opening into day,
Come at his call, and, while he wills it, stay!
Nature herself, to crown the matchless whole,
Gifts him with pure divinity of soul;
A fancy rich, with endless visions fraught,
Curbed by resistless energy of thought,
A fev'rish thirst the heart's still depths to prove,
And touch the springs that each affection move.
No darken'd leaf to this, her fav'rite, seals,
But freely all her hoarded stores reveals;
Wreaths him with laurel from Parnassus' height,
And dips his pen in fount of living light;
Then owns aloud, before admiring Earth,
Iler mighty masterpiece in Shakspeare's birth!
Immortal spirit! deathless and sublime,
Thy name shall triumph o'er the wreck of time!
Shed its pure lustre o'er each coming age,
The brightest gem that decks the Drama's page?
Oh! ne'er shall cease the music of thy lyre,
Till glows the flame round "Nature's fun'ral
pyre!"
To paint in vivid colors to the view
The varying pictures that his pencil drew,
Give to the study of ingenuous youth
Their thrilling force, their excellence and truth,
Shall be our pride; and if it be our lot
To call up feelings now almost forgot,
Kindle beneath the snowy breast of care
A spark that slumber'd unsuspected there,
Excite one lofty spirit still to soar
To higher virtue than attain'd before,
Bring back one wand'rer to the fold again,
Our best exertions will not be in vain.
But a few winters, and the wild wind sighed
Through the dark ravine and the forest's pride,
And the deep waters of yon river roll'd
Their worth unknown, their riches never told!
Heir of the West! NOW cast thine eye around!
See thy broad land with happiness abound!
See Art and Science all their treasures spread,
And wealth and honor shower'd upon thy head!
See all that man holds rational and dear,
In one bright halo meet around thee here!


From all that cheers and animates the heart,
The Drama comes to claim one little part;
Secure indeed, if she be justly tried,
Her trifling boon can never be denied.
She hopes that Taste and Talent here will meet,
And in these walls feel their communion sweet;
That Genius, Wit, and Fancy here may find
Food for their flight, agreeable and refined;
And last, not least, that Beauty's magic power
Will lend its witchery to this fleeting hour.
What were the actor's part-this noble shrineIf stripp'd of that which makes them half divine?
Be with us, then; your cheering influence lend;
Be to the Drama all she asks-a friend.
Sustain her rights, and cherish undefiled
Her earliest altar in this Western wild.
PRIZE POEM FOR THE NEW THEATRE AT
ST. LOUIS.
BY CATIIARINE STEWART, BUFFALO, N. Y.
In that fair season when the blushing rose,
Bathed in soft show'rs, in freshest beauty
glows;
When hawthorn blossoms whiten all the vale,
And send their balmy odors on the gale;
When babbling rills tell, eloquently gay,
How languid vines have kiss'd them on their
way,
In a lone dell, beneath o'erhanging shade,
A dusky form, in native ease, was laid,
Whose polish'd symmetry and classic face,
Sculptor, as model for his art, might seize.
His bow and arrow, carelessly thrown by,
Bore language of his nation's archery.
A timid fawn that sported by his side,
Cropping the grass, by turns, the stranger eyed.
Bared to the breeze, the heavings of his breast
His high aid bold imaginings express'd.
Deep slumber chained him; yet his restless
mind,
Like his own native air, roved unconfined.
In vain his spirit wander'd forth to meet
Features familiar, which were wont to greet
His own! Alas! he missed the wigwam rude,
Border'd by rill, and skirted by green wood.
The deer he saw not in the flying race,
That oft had lured him. Brothers in the chase,
Where were they? Through thick copse and
bloss'ming vale
His dog was not, that loved to scent the gale.
Forms pass'd before him, in the eager aim
Of other objects than the woodland game.
So many towering structures clustering stood
As left no room for musing solitude.
O'er the dark wave, where oft had floated light i
His bird-like bark, what wonders met his sight!




128                 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.
Beings of breath and fire, in vapory pride   And while to her this shrine we dedicate,
And graceful fleetness, triumph'd o'er the tide.  Let elevated feeling consecrate
Convulsive motion quiver'd o'er his mien:    Its classic walls. Let virtue frown severe
"Beauteous canoes!" he sigh'd-then dream'd On vice and heartless pride; and let the tear
again.                                Of dew-eyed sympathy gush freely forth,
Years roll'd away: behold how changed the And innocent refinement chasten mirth,
scene!                                While blushing garlands, twined from sweets so
Beings of other hue the woodland green             rare,
Moved o'er. Low, 'neath the axe, the forest lies. Give out their odors to the brow of care.
The sons of industry and bold emprise        Let us then say, All hail to our new guest,
With sinewy arm unlock'd the golden stores   Welcome to this fair city of the West!
Of wealth, and pour'd them  o'er these wavelash'd stores.


As the resistless tide of life rolls on,
Wave after wave, through Western wild-woods
lone,
Satiate with Eastern climes, from her far home,
Pluming her wings, see Science onward come,
Radiant in smiles; settling her empire fair
Where Nature languishes for guest so rareThrough new and blooming wildernesses moves,
Planting her altars in the Western groves.
In her bright train, the Histrionic Muse,
Allured by wiles, this gay emporium strews
Around, to woo the stranger to her bowers;
Fann'd by fresh breezes from her wastes of
flowers,
Consents to pause a while, in dalliance gay,
'Mid the soft blandishments our smiles display,
To wake the trembling numbers of her lyre,
To warm us with her spirit-breathing fire.
A while she linger'd on our shores sublime,
With eye averted to her favor'd clime
Of love, of war, of story, and of song,
In her heart's memory cherish'd deep and long;
Thought of the pictured porch, the colonnade,
The bowers where grave philosophy has stray'd,
Then turn'd to us, piquant, and new, and fair,
With Oriental beauty to compare.
"Though there are softer airs and brighter,
skies,
And art, despoil'd, in splendid ruin lies,
Can glittering gems or polish'd marble vie
With all this fresh and youthful majesty?
Broad lakes, bold mountains, prairies, rock, and
flood,
These Nature form'd in wild, fantastic mood,
Then careless, smiling, threw away her mould,"
She said, and plunged in Mississippi bold.
In all the lustre of her smiles and tears,
Pensive and gay as she by turns appears,
In all her versatility of powers,
Let us, then, bid her welcome to our shores,
Where she in hues faithful, and bright, and true,
Gracefully holds the mirror to our view;
Bid holy aspiration, hand in hand
With nature, draw her outlines free and grand.


ADDRESS.
BY THOMAS H. GENIN, ST. OLAIRSVILLE, OHIO.
To fire the genius and improve the age,
See, sprung to life, the vice-subduing stage;
Another post whence Truth her rays shall send,
Fair Virtue with her monster foes contend,
And on the follies which the world annoy
Impressive Satire oft his darts employ.
Here Avarice, Vanity, Revenge, and Pride
Will oft their own true images deride,
As Truth's day-beaming hand each feature shows
In all its shame, and Virtue lovelier grows.
To mend, as please the public, we design;
Let wit and taste to aid our views combine,
Nor tyrant fashion wrong direction give;
For by conforming to her laws we live.
What you approve, such will the drama be;
'Tis ours to make it with your taste agree;
Like statesmen, follow where the people go,
Nor lead but when the general will we know:
The senseless farce, the punning, empty strain,
But wins attention from an age as vain.
Amusement hither, unrestrain'd by care,
Beset with Beauty's witchery, shall repair.
Before her bright-eyed Mirth shall blend his
smiles
With ready sentiment and playful wiles;
Gay Comedy dispense her laughing strain,
Nor Tragedy bid tears to roll in vain;
The treasured genius of the world engage
To bless and elevate the-list'ning age;
The gems with which th' historic mine is fraught,
Morality, by great examples taught;
For lo! ascending from the gloom of years,
The majesty of other days appears;
Stalks in its pride, yet bids earth's pilgrims trust
In heaven alone; 'tis but the shade of dust,
That, hov'ring o'er time's dark, sepulchral vale
Of man's mortality, repeats the tale.
Before her, Beauty, long in death confined,
With mimic life again shall please mankind;
The imposing firmness of the good and great,
Like mountains, moveless midst the storms of
fate,




REJECTED ADDRESSES.


129


To loftiest tone exalt the noble soul,
And make the vital current brisker roll;
Revive the fire that burn'd on Bunker's Hill,,With generous rage the glowing bosom fill;
The patriot teach to bleed, the man to bear,
And poverty contentment's face to wear.
Let tyrants, hypocrites, and fools opposeIt were reproachful were not these her foes.
Fell brood of darkness! know the stage ne'er
drew
Her bread from ignorance, want, and fear, as
you.
To man's important interests hers is wed:
Immortal genius has her progress led;
Nor was she in unletter'd ages born,
For laurel'd science graced her early morn;
Around her cradle all the Muses sung;
The rights of man employ'd her infant tongue;
With her, fair genius saw her honors grow,
And tuneful wit in brighter colors blow,
When ere, propitious to the mimic scene,
Was felt the presence of the happy queen;
Thine, lovely Nature! ever fair and young!
Still true to thee be every heart and tongue.
In vain will truth, love, valor, gild the stage,
If thy all-conqu'ring graces not engage.
Shakspeare's great tutoress! source of all the fair,
Grand, and pathetic, may we prove thy care
Obedient acting to thy easy laws,
And from the public gain deserved applause.
ADDRESS.
BY E. A. M'LAUGHLIN, CINCINNATI, OHIO.
The doors unbar, the silken drap'ries riseWhat manly forms-what beauteous, meet our
eyes:
All that gives being bliss-life's fairest glow,
Adorns the circle, bright as Iris' bow:
Beauty with grace, and elegance with worth,
Virtue with youth, and innocence with mirth,
In one bright galaxy of living light,
Cheer and irradiate this festive night:
The Muse shall welcome all the brilliant train
Here met to consecrate Apollo's fane.
Hail! pure Intelligence, from  Heaven that
came,
And warm'd the spirit with celestial flame,
Tamed the wild, rough, and untaught sons of
earth
With magic strains of more than mortal birth,
And, as they heard with transport and delight,
Unveil'd bright Genius to the wond'ring sight.
Crown'd with immortal bays he moves along,
And while the whispering dells the notes prolong,
The wood-nymphs list, the sylvan satyrs peep,
And blue-eyed Nereids hush the foaming deep.
I


The Muses saw, and loved the gifted youth,
And gently led him to the fount of Truth;
While to all lands-to every distant climeFame bore his name upon the wings of Time.
Long in the Eastern hemisphere he stray'd,
And wooed the Sisters in the sylvan shade;
Till once, as in prophetic mood he lay,
Admiring Pallas caught the youth awayOn whistling winds o'er the Atlantic whirl'd,
And laid the slumberer in the Western world.
Beneath a fair magnolia's virgin flowers
Entranced he lay, unconscious of the hours,
Till came Refinement o'er the blooming land,
And touch'd the Sleeper with her magic wand;
He wakes to light and life-with starry eyes
Beholds new realms diverge, new states arise;
Fair flowing streams the fertile vales divide,
The clustering branches kiss the silver tide;
And Art and Science rear the stately dome,
Where the young stranger finds another home.
Cheer'd by your smiles, by your approval
warm'd,
Here Truth shall triumph, Falsehood be disarm'd:
Virtue and Vice in the same mirror view'd,
Vice be avoided, Virtue be pursued;
Honor and Baseness weigh'd in even scale,
Baseness mount up, Integrity prevail.
The sea-born queen, led by the rosy hours,
Shall linger here as erst in Paphian bowers;
The attendant Graces round the goddess move,
And Beauty's presence charm the soul to love.
No more the gaunt wolf prowls the wint'ry
wood,
No more the panther scents the vale for blood;
No more the savage war-wlboop's fearful shriek
Wakes sleeping Innocence to death's last sleep!
The arts of Peace a smiling land renew,
Which yields its blossoms and its fruits for you.
So blooming Thalia spreads her festive board,
With Fancy's flowers and Reason's vintage
stored;
And while the Muse invites you to the feast,
Oh may the viands please each welcome guest!
ADDRESS FOR THE OPENING OF THE NEW
THEATRE AT ST. LOUIS.
BY JOHN THORPE HEMMENWAY, NEW YORK CITY.
When Alexander wept to find that he
Had no more realms to own his mastery;
Wept that his world of conquest was a span,
Its bound the sea, its conqueror a man,
He little dream'd that yet, beyond the flood,
A virgin world, unknown, unconquer'd stood,
In the first blush of her primeval charms,
Unstain'd by battle and unbent to arms



130


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


A world of rock-built towers, gemmed caves,    Is it a dream, or wizard's cunning spell?
Wide-spreading forests, and deep-gliding waves. Or have I drunk a draught at fairy well?
Here first amid the melancholy wood,      That here, where erst the deer and wild horse
Its sovereign lord, the dark-eyed Indian stood.    grazed,
From rock to tree his eagle glance was thrown; A temple to the Drama now is raised?
The Indian claim'd it-felt it for his own.   It is no dream. The temple riseth o'er us,
For him the wild bird check'd its warbling breath; Its multitude of patrons full before us.
For him the dun deer died upon the heath;   We'll seek the Drama o'er the sea no moreThe hairy bison toss'd his mane and fled,   We have an altar on our very shore.
But fell beneath the Indian bolt well sped.  Here Puck shall change the Indian's red papoose,
Here in wild wreaths arose his sacred fires;  And Ariel flit amid Niagara's dews.
Here in green graves were lain his swarthy sires.  Descend, 0 Liberty! and crouch upon this
Next came the bold, the stalwart pioneer,        dome,
In strength the lion, and in speed the deer;  Make this thy altar, dwelling-place, and home.
Care flung behind-the new-found world before Guide us the right to show, the wrong to right,
him,                                  Thou who hast guarded us in field and fightA fertile sod beneath, and heaven o'er him;  Thou who hast led us safe through murk and fear,
No longer fear'd the hard-wrung tithe and tax,  To win our way, and fix our banner here.
The rocks give back the echo of his axe.     Give to this fane the shelter of thy wing;
The startled Indian scouts upon the hill,   Attune thy wild harp's music while we sing
To mark the wonders of his strange fusil;   The heart-born chorus of the free,
Sees at his will the chary bison fall,      The full, resounding song of Liberty.
And wanton birds drop willing in his thrall.
The pilgrim-priest next wanders in the wild,
Takes by the hand the forest's wond'ring child;            AN ADDRESS,
Tells him of hopes he little deem'd of;      WRITTEN FOR THE OPENING OF THE ST. LOUIS
Tells him of worlds he little dream'd of.                     THEATRE.
The Indian lists a while; but, like the wind,         BY JAMES BEES, NEW ORLEANS.
He leaves the priest and rosary behind-     As Genius mused upon the historic page,
Away, away, o'er mountain-stream and plain,  The world enshrouded in its darkling age,
The eagle-footed seeks his wilds again.     Bright beam'd her eye; she gave to smiling earth
Yet, undismay'd, the pilgrim-priest will roam  Beauty renew'd-the Drama's self a birth.
Through suff'ring here, for recompense to come. Her hallow'd form now shines more pure and
Now through the new-found earth a cry is         bright,
thrown-                               Resplendent here, in richer, chasten'd light;
Oppression hath been here! The mutter'd groan No blush shall tinge the cheek of Beauty here,
Is smother'd by the war-cry. Vale and hill,  But warmer glow the sympathetic tear,
Rock, stream, and forest with the echo thrill!  Or smiles of joy which Virtue well may claim,
The nation wakes! The priest his gown throws To guard her vot'ries with a holier flame.




by,
And starts a soldier at his country's cry.
From hill to hill the gathering call is toss'd,
Till in the wildwood's mystic depths 'tis lost;
And scarce eight springs on their own breezes fly,
Ere the same hills and woods resoundwith vict'ry.
When we, who now are lithe and strong, shallbe
Sires and grandsires of stalwart progeny,
And to the shadowy grave be tottering near
(For life no sorrow, and for death no fear);
When our sons' sons shall lead us by the hand,
And fill for us the places where we stand;
When what are wild-woods now be cities then;
When lands, as yet scarce known to human ken,
Shall be the fertile field, the shaven lawn,
Or garden reeking in the dews of dawn,
Then shall we bless the hand that guided here
The patient priest, the sturdy pioneer.


Chaste language here express'd, as Shakspeare
taught,
Shall charm the ear with truth and virtue fraught,
And native bards to emulate, will raise
Our country's harp, and tune their joyful lays:
Thus step by step, to Thalia's temple soar,
And brighten age with legendary lore.
This stately pile, this rich and costly dome,
The Muses' haunt, bright Genius holds her thrcne,
Like magic raised, like magic still shall seem
The brighter vision of some fairy dream;
Here, where talent slumber'd cold and long,
And here, where silence mourn'd the loss cf
song,
And sigh'd alone, now claims no wish to roam,
But dwell enraptured on our own sweet home.
The time has been-but time is now no moreWhen Genius slumber'd on our slighted shore:




JAMES REES, THE AUTHOR.


131


The pen was silent, mind itself seem'd dead,
While flow'rets faded on their early bed.
The scene hath changed; a brighter radiance
gleams
Over the place, and learning sheds its beams.
When you were nurslings in this forest land,
How did your hearts with patriot pride expand
When the fierce war-whoop thunder'd from the
shore,
While stern Missouri echoed to its roar?
Now, midst its wild grandeur, mark what spires
uprise,
What novel scenes on every side surprise;
Old Time his scythe delighted throws aside,
With a bright talisman its place supplied:
Where'er he moves, new wonders crowd the way,
Art triumphs now, and Time hath no decay.
The goddess smiles-what beauteous temples
rise,
And, Babel-like, seem tow'ring to the skies;
Among them, now, the drama's temple sway
The sombre domes-to light the joyous way.
Like some lone pilgrim through this Western
wild,
Fair THALIA comes, an unprotected child;
This is her temple-she dedicates to you,
To hold the world-the mimic world to view;
Here let her live-in all her pride to roam,
Here let the drama find a welcome home;
Let no dark cloud obscure its early light,
No other star shine on her path so bright,
Than those around her; other orbs may shine,
She asks no brighter than these orbs of thine.
Hail, holy temple! here let fancy dwell
In all her pride-thrice hallow'd be her cell;
Here shall the Muse, with fond and plaintive
sound,                     [crown'd;
Breathe forth her notes, which Genius' self hath
Here Europe's bards shall proudly tune the lyre,
Here shall our youth catch inspiration's fire;
Be this the Athens of the Western world,
Here let the banner proudly be unfurl'd;
Then bid it live-oh, let the modern stage,
By you protected, live in after age.
James Rees, the writer of the last address
which I publish (of the "rejected)," is a very old
and valued friend of mine and of the theatrical
profession generally, which owes him a debt of
gratitude-if it did but know it-for the many
sound and wholesome theatrical criticisms which
he, under the pen-name of Colly Cibber, has favored it with through the newspapers of New
Orleans, Philadelphia, and New York during the
last thirty years. He is not unknown in the field
of literature, being the author of three books
which have had a good sale, to wit: "Dramatic


Authors of America," "Footprints of a Lettercarrier," and " Mysteries of City Life," of which
latter work the London Athenaeum said: " The
author is one of the home missionaries of Philadelphia," and compared his scenes and sketches
with the writings of James, the novelist. Mr.
Rees has also written many plays, most of them
successful in the acting, among which I remember LA TOUR DE NESLE, CHANGES (a comedy),
PAT LYON, ANTHONY WAYNE, THE UNKNOWN,
or the DEMON'S GIFT, CHARLOTTE TEMPLE, LAFITTE, the PIRATE OF THE GULF, THE MISTLETOE BOUGH, or the OLD OAK CHEST, and OLIVER TWIST. In the latter piece Charlotte Cushman played Nancy Sykes, and those who have
seen her in the part say that it was a splendid
piece of acting, as no doubt it was. I give one
of Mr. Rees's pen-sketches in the Appendix,
being myself one of the characters in it.
CHAPTER VI.
ST. Louis had not yet begun to feel the hard
times, and our first season in the new theatre
was moderately successful. The stars who had
the privilege of shining during the inaugural
season were Mrs. Drake, Master Burke, Mrs.
Prichard, Mr. Parsons, Mrs. Baily, and Mr.
Plumer. CINDERELLA was produced splendidly,
and with the same cast as in Mobile, except Mr.
Field took the character of the Prince, and your
humble servant that of Dandini.  Singularly
enough, I received the same advice from a friend
here, after the first performance, that I did from
a friend in Mobile: "Cut out the music!"' The
fact is, the people of St. Louis had then very little taste for music in any form; but the scenery,
which was splendid, they could appreciate. We
have improved somewhat in our musical taste
since that time, for be it remembered I am now
writing of events which occurred more than thirty years ago. " Yes," said my friend, who was
no other than Mr. E. H. Beebe, " cut out the
music, Sol; it is tedious."
Miss Riddle, the Fields, De Camp, and myself
had fine benefits, and the house closed on the 3d
of November. Previous to their departure for
the South, Miss Eliza Riddle and Mr. J. M.
Field, leading actress and actor of the company,
were united in wedlock.
An Unpublished Obituary.
I forgot to mention that about the middle of
the season I had an attack of brain fever, and
was cured (under Providence) by Doctor Marcy,




132


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


then a young practitioner, now, I believe, Surgeon General of the United States Army, or something of the kind. He stuck to me like a brother, night and day, uintil the disease was conquered. I only mention this sickness of mine as
introductory to a fact which I am about to relate. Before I had recovered my strength entirely, I took it into my head that change of air
would do me good, and, without much preparation, took passage on a boat and journeyed to
Louisville and Cincinnati, at both of which cities
I learned that the player-folk had heard that I
had died and been buried! How this report got
out I don't know, but George Farren and George
Hill, when I walked into the Louisville Hotel,
took me for a ghost of myself. I was assuredly
very pale and thin, but I soon convinced them
and others that the figure they beheld was composed of flesh and blood; and when I appeared
before my long-time friend and professional associate, Mrs. Fanny Drake, and convinced her
that I was the veritable living being she had so
long and so sincerely loved and esteemed, and
whose untimely "taking off" she had been bewailing for at least two mortal days (so she said,
but her daughter Julia, on being appealed to, did
not remember any bewailing-bless the dear
girl!), I was nearly crushed with her affectionate embraces. I arrived in Cincinnati just in
time to "stop the press" of my old friend and
brother typo, John H. Wood, who had prepared
an elaborate obituary notice, a column long, of
the person who is penning these lines. I shall
never forget my sensations as I stood over the
types which were to commemorate my many virtues. I actually shed tears upon them. I was
not aware of the possession of the many shining
qualities therein typified and set forth by my ardent friend. I now regret I did not take a proof
copy of that able tribute to (supposed) departed
worth; but I begged John to distribute the type
immediately, which request he complied with,
and that splendid "obituary" is lost to the world.
On returning to Mobile this fall, opening on
November the 20th, we were agreeably surprised
by being greeted with large audiences. George
H. Barrett was the first star, followed by Mrs.
Lewis, Mr. Hackett, the Ravel family (who performed ten nights to enormous receipts), Miss
Ellen Tree (who also played to fine houses, her
benefit being $1026), Mrs. Watson (vocalist),
Cony and his dogs, Miss Clifton, Yankee Hill,
Miss Nelson, Hodges, Jim Crow Rice, Mrs.
Baily (vocalist), Mrs. Stuart, Mrs. Gibbs, and
Mrs. Shaw.
The American Theatre (Mr. Ferry's) had


rather fizzled out in the spring, notwithstanding
his "liberal" mode of advertising and tremendous posters-printed at the "Advertiser" office
at my expense, as it turned out, for he never
paid his printer's bill; but somebody by the
name of Wilkins-not Judge Wilkins, who made
himself so ridiculous in the attempted row two
years before, but his brother, I think; at all
events, one of the Wilkinses-brought out a company and commenced operations this fall, with
the avowed determination to shut up the Emanuel Street concern in one month. How far he
succeeded will appear when it is stated that he
came to me very early in the season and offered
to turn over the whole Government Street concern and quit management forever if the engagements he had made with his company would be
assumed by the management of the St. Emanuel.
It was undoubtedly a great undertaking to assume those engagements; but, having a theatre
unoccupied in St. Louis, only 1400 miles distant,
the bargain was consummated, and the whole
American Company, with some necessary re-enforcements, under the temporary management
of Matt Field, were posted off to the Western
City, "bag and baggage, scrip and scribbage."
Miss Petrie was deservedly a great favorite in
Mobile, and when it leaked out she was to be
sent to St. Louis, there was great excitement
among the young men, and they determined, she
shouldn't go. The following remonstrance was
handed in on the night of her "benefit and last
appearance previous to her departure for St.
Louis:"
"Mobile, December 20,1837.
" To the Managers of the Mobile Theatre:
"G GENTLEMEN,-At a meeting of a great many
young men who often frequent your theatre, I
was appointed a committee to inform you, as
proprietors of the Mobile Theatre, that if what
was laid before the meeting be true, viz., that
Miss Petrie is about leaving for St. Louis, the
meeting pledge themselves that they will never
again darken the doors they have so often entered; and, furthermore, they will also do their
best endeavors to forward the establishment of
anotherin this city. We muster strong, so look
out for the consequences. We hope you will alter your minds, and send some one who is less
admired by the citizens of Mobile.
" Yours, etc.,  J. HAZWRELL.
(" In haste.")
And the following found its way into Miss
Petrie's dressing-room:
"Mobile, December 21,1837.. "MISS PETRIE,-In behalf of the signers of
the remonstrance against your leaving the city
of Mobile, we have the honor to inform you that
such remonstrance has been handed to the managers, and we respectfully desire your co-operation in the same.




A VERY COLD WINTER SEASON.


133


"With the hope of your co-operation and acquiescence in the same, we remain, very respectfully, your obedient servants."
(Signed by a number of young men as " a committee.")
The fact happened to be that Miss Petrie wanted to go; and on being called out at the end of
the play, and being called on for a " speechspeech-speech!" she very plainly told the public
that while she thanked the writers of the letter
for the interest in her welfare which she supposed
prompted them to interfere in her affairs, she
felt herself quite capable of attending to her own
business arrangements. She concluded her little
speech (which, I confess, I wrote for her at her
own request) by saying, " I have engaged to go
to St. Louis, and go I must and will." And go
she did, the young men giving her up with more
resignation than might have been expected under the circumstances, most of them declaring
that without her co-operation and acquiescence
it was useless to proceed any farther with the intended row; and all agreed that the little favorite didn't "co-operate" nor "acquiesce" worth
a cent. So that was the end of the matter.
This was the last really good season in Mobile
during my management, and as an average this
was not particularly good. The house closed on
the 5th of May, never to open again but for a
very few nights. But let me not anticipate.
Dark times were ahead.
Matt Field and the company wended their
weary way to St. Louis. In due time-as soon
as I could arrange the business so as to leave it
-I followed, and found the river above Cairo
closed to navigation, so I had to work my way
by land.
Matt Field (as good a man as ever lived) proceeded with his company to St. Louis, where,
after innumerable difficulties, he effected an
opening about the middle of January. Lots of
stoves were purchased, and every attempt made
to warm the house-all in vain. The house
couldn't be warmed, and the people wouldn't
visit it-to be frozen. The business was horrible. Poor Matt, in his new position of manager, did all man could do to make the season
successful; but with all his efforts, seconded by
a rather ordinary company, taken for all in all,
he could make no headway, the houses averaging no more than about $70 per night. He worried through eighteen nights, all the time praying for my arrival to relieve him of his managerial duties, and then succumbed-closed, with an
announcement that the house would " reopen on
the arrival of the manager, Mr. Sol. Smith." In
one of his letters to his brother at Mobile he


said: "I shall be miserable till Sol comes, and
shall have bowels of compassion for managers as
long as I live after this."
I did think of giving a history of my journey
from Cairo to St. Louis by land, but I find I have
not room for it. I arrived at last, and my arrival was welcomed by the company and their
manager with unfeigned satisfaction. As for
poor Matt, his manifestations of joy were extravagant and sincere, unmixed with a single
atom of self-interest. Miss Petrie, I believe,
was equally sincere in her joy at my arrival.
The rest of the company (from the broken-up opposition house in Mobile) rejoiced greatly, also,
for they knew I never closed on account of bad
business. So, after a recess of three nights only
(for which time the people were paid the same as
if the house had been kept open), we resumed
the season, and continued it to the end. Under
my personal management, now in the coldest
part of the winter, the first week of the reopening yielded only $350-not quite $60 per night!
We played one night to a house which counted
only $15 50. With the extra company brought
to St. Louis was Mr. C. W. Mueller, a very talented musician, who was leader of the orchestra.
At my request, he composed music for a new
piece I had just received from London, entitled
the PET OF THE PETTICOATS, and we performed
it several times to the high gratification of the
discriminating few who favored us with their
presence on those cold nights. The character
of Job suited me exactly, and Miss Petrie played
Paul the Pet very prettily. We two were nightly encored in the song of the "Pious Child,"
which we sung to the tune of "Old Mear."
Other musical pieces we gave; and, even in that
dreadful season, desperately resolved to do something to draw out the people, (shall I write it?),
CINDERELLA was revived! a Mr. Brunton assaying Joe Field's part of-the Prince, and Matt
Field, ever willing to aid in any way, studied the
music of the Baron, and played it in a manner
entirely acceptable, even after the truly admirable personation of the same character, a few
weeks before, by De Camp. This opera raised
the receipts a little for one night, when $150
were realized; but they fell down for the remainder of its representations to $52, $107,
$86, etc. If we had "cut out the music," CINDERELLA might have drawn better; but my opinion then was, and now-is, that nothing in the
shape of tragedy, comedy, opera, or any thing
else would have drawn paying houses.
On the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Lewis (our first
stars), the weather moderating at the same time,
the business rose a little-almost to a paying




134


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


point; and, on April 15th, the glorious Ellen Tree "lands, notes, cash, bull-pups-any thing. Long
commenced an engagement, and carried us tri- credit, short credit; fix it your own way."
umphantly through two weeks.  Then came     Finding me so easy to deal with, they made
John Sefton (the celebrated Jemmy Twitcher), their proposition, which was to purchase the
followed by Mrs. Gibbs, both of whom played paper, office, and good-will at the price above
moderately successful engagements, and the win- named, payable'in Illinois bounty lands at $4 50
ter season closed at the end of May with the per acre, a $5000 note of Broadnax & Newton,
ever-attractive Ravel family.             and to give their own notes for whatever balance
[On the 4th of June, 1838, I experienced the might be due after the whole of their stock of
greatest misfortune of my life in the death of my i Illinois lands had been turned over to me; it bewife Martha, who had been my faithful partner ing agreed that they were to allow me, besides
for seventeen years.]                     the price named, half the amount of debts on the
Most of the company departed at the close of books. Of course I closed with them at once,
the season just closed, their engagement being set a lawyer at work drawing up the papers, and,


fulfilled, and, with the regular company from
Mobile, the summer and fall season began on
June 6th, with Miss Clifton as the star. During
this engagement was produced Bulwer's LADY
OF LYONS, for the first time in America, Miss C.
of course personating Pauline, and Mr. Barton
(the c-r-rushed down William Tell) Claude Melnotte. Then followed J. R. Scott, Mrs. Gibbs,
Miss Nelson, Mr. Hodges, Mrs. Stuart, Mrs.
Shaw, and Mr. Llewellen with a Mazeppa horse.
The house closed, after a barely paying season,
with a new piece from the pen of J. M. Field, entitled VICTORIA, in which the author personated
an editor on his travels in Europe, intended for
the celebrated editor of the N. Y. Herald.
CHAPTER VII.
I WENT ahead of the company to superintend
the refitting of the Mobile Theatre (the old St.
Emanuel), and, if possible, to sell out, get rid of,
or throw into the river the Mobile Mercantile
Advertiser establishment, which was involving
me in losses I was little able to bear. I had already been compelled to buy out General Bates,
a politician who had succeeded to the interest
of Mr. Harriman; and the whole concern had
cost me $18,000, besides the losses sustained in
carrying it on. If it had not been for the faithful and able management of Mr. Keating, who
had full control in my absence, my losses would
have been much heavier than they were. Luckily, on the very night before the day on which I
had determined to end the career of the Advertiser by tumbling the types, presses, and every
thing pertaining thereto into the Alabama River,
I found a couple of good fellows, Messrs. Lang

with all the clerks to assist, the new proprietors
went to work ascertaining how much the debts
on the books amounted to. Two hours were occupied in this latter business, when Langdon,
with a very long face, came to me and demanded a parley. " Look here, Mr. Sol Smith," said
he, in a serious tone, "how much do you suppose those debts on your books amount to?"
"Haven't the least idea," I replied. "A considerable sum, I think, for I have collected scarcely any thing since I became proprietor here."
"A   considerable sum, indeed," remarked
Langdon, who really seemed awfully cut down
by the result of his two hours' work in the counting-room. "I am afraid, friend Sol," he continued, seating himself on a high stool, "it will
be impossible to carry out our trade, after all.
We have not half land enough to pay for those
debts. We have only gone through a few pages
of the ledger, and they already amount to nine
thousand dollars."
"Is it possible?" said I. "I had no idea
that the whole would go much over ten thousand."
"Ten thousand!" echoed Langdon. "It is
my belief, judging from the beginning we have
made, that the debts on that one ledger will
amount to considerably over $100,000."
I started up. I was amazed and frightened
— frightened at the idea that Langdon and Harris were likely to back out from the proposed
bargain.
"You must see, friend Sol," remarked Langdon, " that it will be out of the question to carry
out our arrangement, the sum being so far above
any amount thought of by either party."
"Look here, old friend," said I, looking my
interlocutor straight in the eye, "there is no


don and Harris, who were willing to purchase back out in me, and I hope there is nothing of
the establishment, which had been long adver- the kind in you. We must trade. Your lands
tised, at the price I asked for it-$18,000-if I may fall short, but-have you any-bull-pups?"
would take in payment what they had to give. My friend knew the story on which my question
"Any thing-any thing whatever," I exclaimed; was based, and laughingly answered that he




DESTRUCTION OF TWO THEATRES BY FIRE.


135


hadn't such a thing as any kind of a pup to his
name. Harris might have one or two, but he
thought not.
"Well," said I, "bring in Harris, and we'll
talk over this matter." Harris was called in,
and I soon learned from the two that they could
not or would not carry out the agreement to pay
half price for all the debts due the office, so I
addressed myself to getting the best bargain I
could out of the new circumstances developed by
the partial search of the pages of the ledger.
"You proposed to allow half price for all the
debts on the books," I began. " You find those
debts large in amount-much larger than you
anticipated. So far as the examination has gone,
they amount to $9000. I can not compel you
to go on with the examination, but, as far as you
have gone, I hold you to. Pay me for half the
debts you have already found due, and I throw the
rest in." They accepted this offer very cheerfully,
and the Mercantile Advertiser passed into their
hands, while a bundle of patents, signed by James
Monroe, fell into mine, and remained in my possession for many, many years, together with authenticated transfers of the same from brave soldiers of the War of 1812, long since dead and
gone. I may as well finish up this Illinois land
business by saying that in the course of about
fifteen years I managed to get rid of the whole
of them, some at as high a rate as $50 for 160
acres. The last purchaser was a Mr. Green, who
offered me $150 for eight tracts of 160 acres
each. For several years I had paid the taxes,
but at the time I refer to I had neglected for a
long time to notice the call of the tax-gatherer.
I had, in fact, become very sick of the whole Illinois land business; so I said to Mr. Green, " If
you will take all these papers away with you
(about a bushel, more or less), and never let
me see them again, I will give you a quit-claim
deed for every inch of land I own in Illinois for
the sum you offer." Green acceded, and I have
never since had any thing to do with Illinois
lands in any shape or manner.
Having rid myself of the incubus of the newspaper, which I had no business to purchase, but
not of the debts I owedfor the purchase-(the
holders of my notes would not touch Illinois lands
with a ten-foot pole)-I went to work finishing
the redecoration of the theatre, which, in a brannew coat of paint and costly upholstering, opened on the 10th of November. On the 20th of the
same month, after the performance of the MILLER AND HIS MEN, the St. Emanuel was burned
to the ground, together with all the scenery,
properties, wardrobe, library, and every thing
therein.


Without the least hesitation, it was resolved to
fix up and open the Government Street Theatre
(the "American" it had been called), that establishment having fallen into our hands by virtue
of a sale under deed of trust and by compromise
with Mr. Ferry, the builder and owner, and I
went immediately over to New Orleans to purchase wardrobe, books, and music. These articles I luckily found, the property of the estate of
Richard Russell, then recently deceased, and the
theatre on Government Street, refitted and renovated, opened on the 1st of December, exactly
ten days after the destruction of the St. Emanuel.
This was certainly quick work, and it was so considered by the Mobilians; but the theatre-goers
held back most provokingly, not considering Mrs.
Stuart, late Miss Vos, and Mr. Forbes, who were
our first stars, as worth their attention to any
great degree. Dan Marble did a little better,
and a troupe of horses did tolerably well in the
way of tdawing; but still the public held back,
waiting for the "big stars." At length they
came, the charming Ellen Tree in the van. It
seemed at first the irresistible Ellen was going to
fail in her attractive powers, for her first night
yielded a receipt of only $296; but the engagement turned out a capital one, the twelve nights
giving her for her share $2229 25, the share to
the theatre being $3729 25, over $300 per night.
Then came Forrest for fourteen nights (receipts
averaging about the same as the Tree's), followed by Booth, who-on a "certainty," as it is
called when managers take all the risk and pay
the star a stipulated sum-played to any thing
but good houses. He was paid $100 for each
night's performance, and, with the exception of
his Richard night, the receipts ranged thus:
$295, $399, $295 50, $267, $202, $148, $93,
$159 50, $170, the last being announced as his
benefit. His Richard produced $690.
Master Burke followed Booth; then a troupe
of Bedouin Arabs. Miss Meadows performed a
few nights, and after her came the invincible
Celeste, whose engagement was good, but not
great this time; and last (and least) came Miss
Jane Davenport, the "phenomenon" of Dickens,
with her father, the veritable Crummles, immortalized by the same author. The engagement
was a poor one, the benefit receipts only reaching $130. This Miss Davenport became a fine
actress, and at the time I write (1868) is fairly
rivaling the great Italian actress Ristori in performing the characters of Elizabeth and Mary
Queen of Scots. The season closed with the
benefit of Mrs. Field (late Miss Riddle); receipts $400. This theatre never opened its doors
again, but was destroyed the following fall in the




136


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


great conflagration which laid in ashes about a
third of the city of Mobile.
During this year (1839) I took unto myself a
second wife, Miss Elizabeth Pugsly. She still
lives, a stout, healthy woman, and the mother
of three sons, all grown to man's estate. As
she never was on the stage, this is probably the
only mention I shall make of her. Though not
of the theatrical profession, she has acted well
her part.
A Miss Hamblin (no relation of the New York
manager, Tom Hamblin) was a member of the
company this season. A tragic performance of
hers will be hereafter mentioned.
Vincent De Camp, a very talented comedian,
ended his engagement with us here. Who in
Mobile does not remember De Camp in his milkcart, a coffee-bag pinned over his shoulders, and
his beard unshaven for three days? Poor De
Camp! He was but a child, though nearly 70
years of age. He had been for many years a
popular actor in London, but, having lost one of
his eyes-how I never learned-he left the British metropolis for this country, where he had
managed several theatres with varied success.
He could not lay up any money, made he ever so
much. In Montreal he was lessee and manager
of a theatre for a season with very poor success.
Being very much addicted to playing Vingt-une
(a game with cards), he generally succeeded in
winning a great portion of the salaries of his actors (this he told me himself), using corn for
stakes, reckoning each corn at sixpence; so
that, when salary-day came, it was a common
thing for De Camp to say to an actor, "Ah!
Mr. —, let's see; your salary is so and so;
your fines this week amount to so much, and
here I have fifty corns which you are to redeem;
that squares our accounts. Please send in the
next."
Some money-making scheme was always running away with De Camp's reason and his professional earnings. In his latter years he went
into speculations of various kinds, which were
invariably unsuccessful, and kept him poor. One
of his ventures (in 1837) was taking to Mobile
from St. Louis a cargo of turkeys, chickens,
ducks, geese, and cabbages. He invested all the
money he could raise, besides employing his own
credit and that of his friends, so far as they
would permit him, and strewed the hurricane
deck of the " Praire" with his poultry and vegetables. I can very well remember the squawking, cackling, and gobbling of the feathered
cargo, intermingled with some cursing of the
crew, which saluted our ears whenever we put
forth our heads from the cabin. Besides the


poultry and cabbages, he had managed to procure
a few cows and a sheep or two, which were
stowed below. Altogether, the decks of the
"Praire" might be likened unto Noah's ark for
the variety of its passengers. For the last three
years of his life, cows were almost the sole object
of his speculative attention. He labored assiduously in his profession, and received a good salary; but he laid all his money out in cows, and
the cows kept dying about as fast as he got
them.
As a last resort, this good old man and excellent actor went to Texas, with the intention of
playing a starring engagement and establishing a
dairy with the proceeds; but before he had accomplished either of his objects, the fell sergeant
Death summoned him, and he obeyed the call
without a murmur or protest, only regretting
that he had not gone to Texas years before, being fully impressed, as he said on his death-bed,
with the belief that in that splendid grazing
country he could in a very short time have become one of the richest men in the South.
CHAPTER VIII.
SEVERAL weeks previous to the closing of the
season in Mobile, I proceeded to St. Louis, where
in a very short time an extra company was collected together-a pretty good one too-for the
purpose of " playing the stars" on their way to
the North. Among this extra company were
Joe Cowell and daughter, Mr. Duff, Mr. Lennox,
and Mr. Bateman. Mr. and Mrs. Farren afterward joined the company, under an engagement
for three years. Mrs. Farren I had known from
her childhood. She is the daughter of the late
Richard Russell, manager of the Camp Street
Theatre. She remained with me for eight years,
and I may truly say that this excellent woman
and fine actress always did her duty, and much
more. Mr. Farren was a capital actor of old
men. Mr. E. Woolf was leader of the orchestra
-a fine musician and worthy man, besides possessing a fund of humor and a talent for pensketching, which enabled him to make others
laugh, though I never saw on his own countenance any thing that approached nearer to a
smile than a slight twitching of the lips.
This season opened on the 8th of April, with
Mr. Forbes as the star, and the total receipts
amounted, the first week, to $1617 50. Next
week, without any star, the receipts were about
the same; and on the 22d began the engagement of the glorious Ellen Tree, who played
seven nights to such business that her pay, on




A CONTUMACIOUS STAR.


137


sharing terms, amounted to just $300 per night.
Her benefit was $1052.
Banishing Rosalind.
During this engagement a most ludicrous mistake of one of the actors, Mr. Duff, came very
near putting a premature end to the performance
of Shakspeare's As You LIKE IT before the
conclusion of the first act. Duff was cast for
the character of Duke Frederick, and being detained from rehearsal by indisposition, he had
only studied as far as the wrestling scene, supposing that was the end of the part; so, when
that scene was ended, he quietly proceeded to
his dressing-room  and commenced disrobing.
When he had got off all his stage dress but his
"trunks," he heard a call made in the greenroom, directly underneath, which sounded to his
affrighted ear very much like " Duke Frederick
and attendants!" Holding his "trunks" up by
the waistband, he hurried down the stairs, exclaiming,
" It can't be me! I've finished my part!"
" But it is you," answered the call-boy, "and
the stage is waiting for you."
Rushing forward to the first entrance, he
heard Rosalind exclaim,
"Look! here comes the duke."
To which announcement Celia added,
" With his eyes full of anger."
But the Duke didn't come, and as for his eyes,
they seemed more full of sorrow than of anger
while he stood at the wing, with one hand employed in holding up his trunks (a sort of trowsers) and the other in expressive gesticulation.
" Here comes the duke," repeated Rosalind,
at which inviting cue poor Duff clasped his hands
together in anguish, releasing, for a moment, the
waistband of his trunks, which immediately commenced falling, of course, exclaiming in a loud
whisper,
" I can't go on in this way, you know."
As if in fear that he would go on in that way,
Miss Tree turned to Celia, and saying, " Let us
go and meet his grace," led the way from the
stage, and the curtain was lowered amid a shower
of hisses.
In a moment I was on the spot. The Duke
was full of apologies; the fair Rosalind was full
of mortification; I was full of perplexity, and
the audience full of ill humor. What was to be
done? It was clear the play could not go on
without the banishment of Rosalind from the
court, and equally clear that to raise the curtain
for the few lines that remained to be spoken and


low Rosalied to change her dress, would appear
to be trifling with the patience of the public.
"I have it!" exclaimed I. "You, Rosalind,
must be banished. I hereby pronounce sentence
of banishment upon you. Go and put on your
boy's clothes, and be ready to begin the second
act."
"But," interposed Ellen Tree, "'what will the
audience think?"
"Never mind the audience," I answered;
"leave me to settle it with them. "
Away went Ellen to dress, and (a little bell
being rung) out went I before the curtain.
"RESPECTED AUDIENCE,-Extremely sorry,
etc., etc.; misconception of the gentleman cast
for the Duke-indisposition, etc.; usual indulgence, etc., etc.; hope you will overlook the
blunder, etc.; and as the play can not well proceed without the banishment of Rosalind from
the court, I ask permission from you to pronounce the sentence which the Duke should have
pronounced before his abdication."
General applause and laughter answering these
apologetic remarks, I straightened myself up,
and assuming, as nearly as I could, the voice and
manner of the defaulting actor, I pronounced the
sentence in the Duke's words"Firm and irrevocable is my doom
Which I have pass'd upon her. She is banish'd."
The now good-natured audience confirmed the
sentence with loud applause, and the performance went on.
"After the storm comes a calm." Mr. C.
Mason performed a week to horrible business,
and on. his benefit night, after playing a scene
from MACBETH, refused to go on with the performance on account of the scarcity of people in
the front of the house. He addressed the audience, thanking the few who were in attendance,
but said he must decline to proceed any farther
to such a small audience. The " small audience"
took this speech very kindly, and, as Mr. Mason
made his exit R. H., I made my entrance L. H.,
and assured the public that, notwithstanding the
star's defection, if a wait of ten minutes were
accorded, I would pledge myself, by substituting
other actors in Mr. Mason's place, the performance should go on as announced in the bills.
The public were entirely satisfied, and in precisely ten minutes from the time I left the stage the
performance was resumed, and eventually carried through with entire success. The entertainments consisted of acts from various plays,
and I found no difficulty in finding Hamlets,
Shylocks, and Richards in abundance, very glad
of the opportunity to exhibit their hidden pow

then drop it again, as needs must be done to al



138


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


ers; and, what was better than all, the house
" picked up," and in the end the receipts
amounted to nearly $200.
Mr. Forrest (for which he received $2157)
played twelve nights, of course to fine houses,
followed by Celeste, who, though not attracting
so greatly as either Tree or Forrest, had a benefit which amounted to $1149 50, the highest receipts on any one night in that theatre.
Dan Marble played a moderate engagement,
followed by a " combination," consisting of Barrett, Scott, and young Burke (not very successful), and the spring season of thirteen weeks
closed with the performances for six nights of
Mr. and Mrs. Sloman, the latter a very fine actress of tragedy characters, and the former a very
excellent comic singer; but they didn't draw.
After a vacation of about five weeks the house
reopened, and the first week's receipts amounted
to only $748. After weeks of preparation, the
JEWESS was produced with great splendor, and
drew on its first representation $460, and then
the receipts ran down to almost nothing.
During Mr. Forrest's engagement he was attended by A. J. Allen as costumer. I have some
anecdotes of this gentleman, and I may as well
conclude this chapter with them.
The Father of the American Stage.
Andrew Jackson Allen (now deceased) claimed to be the father of the American stage; that
is to say, he supposed he had been on the American stage a longer period than any other living
actor. This may be true. I have seen his name
in the bills, and his person on the stage as long
ago as 1815. He was Andrew Allen then; the
Jackson has since been acquired-how, I do not
pretend to say; but I believe it was laid hold of
by, and conceded to him by the world, in consequence of the able manner in which he "got up"
the Battle of New Orleans at his benefit, soon
after the news arrived of the grand affair at New
Orleans, performed on the 8th of January of the
above-named year.
The first character I saw performed by the
subject of this sketch was the Laird of Raissy,
in the opera of the HIGHLAND REEL. I next
saw him in a raw-head-and-bloody-bones mixture of pantomime and melo-drama, entitled the
BLACK CASTLE, or the DISTRESSED MAIDEN, in
which he enacted an extremely savage-looking
confidential servant to a villainous usurper, with
a slouched hat, overhanging feathers, broad belt,
with a very wide brass buckle in front, short
sword, and wide-sleeved gauntlets; and it was


his peculiar province to attempt all the assassinations; to be most unmercifully beaten by
men with clubs, and other rescuers of innocence;
and to cry " Confusion! foiled again!" and rush
off, shaking his dagger at the audience, and with
a look at his intended victim which indicated, as
plainly as looks can indicate, that it wouldn't be
well for the aforesaid intended victim to let him
catch her alone again-that's all. He made a
great impression on me; and afterward, when I
saw him in Abcelino, the Great Bandit, through
the knot-hole of a pine board under the boxes,
where I had stationed myself in the afternoon
before the doors were opened, my admiration
was excited to the highest pitch. This was in
the old Albany Theatre, in Green Street, where
he produced, or assisted in producing, a piece
called the BATTLE OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN, the
ships floating in real water! In this piece he
played the character of a negro, and sung a song
of many verses (the first negro song, I verily believe, ever heard on the American stage), two
verses of which I give from memory:
"Backside Albany stan' Lake Champlain,
Little pond half full o' water;
Plat-te-burg dar too, close 'pon de main;
Town small-he grow bigger, do', herearter.
On Lake Champlain Uncle Sam set he boat,
An' Massa Macdonough he sail 'em;
While Gineral Macomb make Plat-te-burg he home
Wid de army, whose courage nebber fail 'em."
In the winter of 1816 the father of the American stage became the sole proprietor of the
Shakspeare House, nearly opposite the theatre,
previously occupied by one Morse, afterward proprietor of a Shakspeare Hotel adjoining the Park
Theatre, New York. He still continued to act
in the theatre, playing stern villains in dramas,
and clowns in pantomimes. lie took a benefit,
and paid off an immense amount of debts, in tickets, leading each creditor to suppose that he was
the only one who could be paid, and assuring him
that the tickets could be easily disposed of. It
leaked out during the day that every body had
tickets for sale, and the price fell to almost nothing. I purchased a box ticket for six cents, and,
by planting myself at the door at four o'clock,
was one of the eleven hundred that were shoved
into the house. The three or four thousand outsiders amused themselves by kicking up all sorts
of rumpuses in the street. The "father" did
not care for all this-he had the receipted bills
of his creditors in his pocket.
Having paid all his debts in Albany, he proceeded to New York, where he engaged in the
Park Theatre, and was moderately successful in
his slouched hat, broad buckle, and short-sword
characters, until his creditors-for he had a way




FATHER OF THE AMERICAN STAGE.


139


of getting in debt perfectly surprising to young
beginners - became somewhat impatient and
troublesome. One, in particular, determined to
try the virtue of a capias ad respondendam, and
employed a well-known and afterward celebrated
constable, by the name of Hays, to execute the
same on the body of Father Allen. I may as
well here state two things: first, my hero was
partially deaf; and, secondly, he had a way of
speaking which conveyed the idea that he was
always laboring under the effects of a bad cold in
his head, without a pocket-handkerchief to help
himself with. The reader will please bear these
things in mind.
Young Hays (he was then young) found Father Allen on the Park Theatre steps.  " Good
morning," said he, saluting the actor very civilly,
but speaking in a very loud voice, for he knew
the actor's infirmity, and pulling out a small bit
of paper; " your name is Allen, I believe?"
"Yes, Addrew Jacksod Alled, at your service," replied the debtor, supposing the officer was
an applicant for a front seat in the dress circle;
"what cad I do for you, by friedd?" continued
he, patronizingly, as he gently tapped the ashes
from his cigar. "It is my bedefit, you seeBATTLE OF LAKE ERIE, sir, with real watergreat expedse-fide play-' we have met the edeby add they are ours,' you kdow-lots of doble
ships, flags, guds, and smoke. Look at the bill,
sir."
" That's just what I want you to do," replied
the officer. "Here is a bill I want you to examine, and here is a writ requiring that I shall
take your body forthwith before a squire."
It was useless to attempt to misunderstand this
plain explanation, for, if he could not hear very
well, he could see as well as any body, and it
was equally useless to attempt to escape; so, after quietly examining the papers, the beneficiaire
of the evening gave a puff or two more at his
cigar, and then, with a nod of the head, intimated that he understood the whole affair.
"Let's see-yes, sevedty-two dollars exactly.
Cursed ill-datured of by friedd Thobsod to trouble
you with this busidess; I idtedded to pay it out
of by bedefit bodey to-borrow. But dever bind;
step idto Bister Sibsod's roob with be, and I'll
hadd you the aboudt."
"Certainly, sir," answered Hays, and he followed the defendant into the theatre through a
private door. I shall not attempt to describe
the route they took, but it is said the officer was
led up and down numerous stairways, over divers
stagings, and through many dark passages and
underground vaults, until he was completely bewildered. At length, in the midst of darkness,


he was requested by his conductor to " hold on
a minute."  " Here's Bister Sibsod's roob," said
he; "wait here till I see if he is at leisure."
The officer stopped stock still as desired, for he
had no idea which way to move, and waited patiently for the return of his prisoner, whose retreating steps told him that Mr. Simpson's room
was not so near to where he stood as he had
supposed. After waiting for about ten minutes,
he began to call the name of his prisoner in a
loud voice. Suddenly a trap-door opened immediately above his head, and, looking up, he distinctly saw Allen's face, lit up with a most benevolent smile.  "Well," inquired the officer,
"have you found Simpson?"  "Do, by friedd,
I haved't yet foudd that worthy gedtlebad, but I
do dot despair of beidg able to beet with hib sobe
tibe this evedidg. Be so good as to wait there,
by idterestidg friedd, while I take a good look
for hib; it is more thad likely I shall see bib
sobewhere betweed here add Philadelphia, for
which city I ab about ebbarkidg."
~"Embarking for Philadelphia!" fiercely exclaimed the officer: "no you don't! you are my
prisoner, and must not move."
" By dear friedd," replied Allen, who had not
heard a word 'the officer had said, but saw by his
movements he was inclined to leave the place
where he had located him, " you'd better dot stir
frob that spot till sobe of the labplighters arrive,
for if you do, idasbuch as there are trap-doors all
roudd you, you'll fall forty feet or so, add that
bight hurt you, you know." The trap-door was
closed with a loud noise, and the next that was
heard of Father Allen, he was getting up THE
BATTLE OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN in Philadelphia.
I have never learned how the constable got out
of the theatre, but I presume he was turned out.
The return on his writ was, " Executed by taking in custody the defendant, who escaped by
misleading me into the devil's church, and leaving me to get out the best way I could."
The next I heard of the father he was manager of a theatre in Pensacola, where he played
Abcelino and Caleb Quotem with great success.
In 1822 he was in Cincinnati, where I was editing a paper, and he was then engaged in sending
up a series of balloons, in opposition to one
Mons. Dumileau, and appealing in his advertisements to the patriotic feelings of the Cincinnatians to sustain his balloons, on the ground that
they were the true American article, while those
of Dumileau's were decidedly French.
He went into Virginia, causing balloons to ascend from every village. At one of his stands
he found great difficulty in collecting together
the proper materials for generating gas; never



140


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


theless, he advertised that the exhibition would
take place, and, providing a quantity of the spirits of turpentine to burn under the balloon, hired
a large garden, into which the Virginians flocked
in great numbers, each paying fifty cents at the
gate. When the hour of ascension arrived, the
exhibitor found that with all his exertions it
would be impossible to cause the balloon to
mount! He had a number ofjuvenile assistants,
who were busy about the inner inclosure, and to
them he addressed himself, first handing an old
bull's eyed watch to the largest boy"Look here, by boys, I've got to go add purchase sobe bore sulphuric acid: you take this
watch, add when the hadd poidts at the hour of
two, set fire to this here turpedtide; do you
hear?"
The boys said they did hear, and promised
obedience. The master spirit made his way to
the gate, where he requested the door-keeper to
"hadd over the fudds, as there was such a crowd
there was do tellidg what bight happed id the
bustle." He then mounted a pony he had wisely provided for the purpose, and galloped off for
the drug-store, but, mistaking the way, he found
himself, at precisely two o'clock, on a very high
hill overlooking the scene of his late operations.
The boys were true to their promise, and communicated the fire to the turpentine at the appointed time; the balloon went up, but it was in
small flaky fragments, and the humbugged Virginians began to look about for the operator, but
m vain! With $600 in his pockets, he was wending his way toward some city where gas could
be more easily generated. In giving an account
of this affair, my venerable friend said: "Dab
the idferdal ballood! I foudd there was do use
id tryidg to bake it rise; so, as I dislike bakidg
apologies, I thought I would bake byself scarce.
Whed I got od that hill add looked back, the
boys had set fire to the ballood, add such a sboke
rose up! the whole village appeared to be od
fire; d-d if it did'dt look like a youdg Sodob
add Goborrow!"
When Mr. Edwin Forrest began to rise in his
profession, Allen determined to rise with him,
and attached himself to that tragedian as costumer, in which capacity, and that of a fighting
gladiator, he traversed this country and Great
Britain, always taking to himself a full share of
credit for "the boy's" success; "for," said he,
"what would be the use of taledt without the
proper costube?" I am not informed of the
cause of separation, but certain it is the great
tragedian has managed to " get on" without the
aid of the father of the American stage for several years past. During the latter years of his


life, Mr. Allen earned an honest livelihood in
New York by manufacturing silver leather. His
last advertisement, or the last which I saw, begins as follows:
"     HUMBUGS AVAUNT!!!!
I AM NOT DEAD YET: ingratitude has not killed me-thanks to a clear conscience and a pair
of silver leather breeches. All I want is work, that
I may thrive by my industry, pay my debts, and
die, as I always have lived, an honest man."
Which he did, at a good old age, respected by
all.
CHAPTER IX.
ONE of our company, Mr. Bateman (afterward
married to Miss Sidny Cowell), was a good actor for the experience he then had, but somewhat belligerent at times. There was an editor
named Foster to whom he administered a caning
in return for some criticisms on himself or his
wife which he considered unjust. Foster had
Mr. B. arrested and taken before the mayor, who
fined him $25, which Mr. B. and his counsel
thought too much for caning an editor.
Mr. Primm (Counsel for Bateman) to Sol. Smith.
" St. Louis, November 30,1839.
"SOL. SMITH, ESQ.:-DEAR SIR,-Will you
have the goodness to call on the mayor and inform him as to the amount of salary received
by Mr. Bateman weekly. The mayor has imposed on Mr. B. a fine, which I think disproportionate to his means. Your statement will
doubtless have the effect of procuring a reduction to something like a nominal fine.
"Yours truly,   WILSON PRIMM."
Dr. William Carr Lane (Mayor) to Sol. Smith.
"SOL. SMITH, ESQ.:-DEAR SIR,-I have received your favor of this date upon the subject
of Mr. Bateman's salary. Please say to that
gentleman that, after considering the subject in
all its aspects, and with every disposition to
serve him, I am of opinion that $25 is a very
small sum to set off against a caning inflicted
upon any sort of a gentleman, and that, according to my sense of duty, I can not reduce the
fine without trampling upon public justice.
"Very respectfully, your obedient servant,
" WM. CARR LANE, Mayor of St. Louis.
"St. Louis, December 2,1839."
This Mr. Bateman has since been a prominent
man in the theatrical world. He is the father
of the celebrated Bateman children, one of whom
(Kate) is a reigning star at this time in England.
Ellen married and retired young. To Mr. Bateman the Eastern cities are indebted for the introduction of the French Opera Bouffe, at this
moment so popular in New York City. His wife
(formerly Sidny Cowell) is the author of some
successful plays-SELF for one.




LETTER FROM THE STAGE-STRUCK MISS ELIZA PELLING.


141


The ICE WITCH was gotten up splendidly,
scenery by Joe Cowell, Jr. Mark Smith, then
ten years of age, was brought from the St. Louis
University to personate the Sun-God. Cowell
played Magnus Snoro, Mrs. Farren the Ice Witch,
and Miss Sidny Cowell the chambermaid, whatever her name may be. In short, the cast was
strong; nevertheless, the piece was weak in its
attractive powers. The same maybe said of the
LADY OF THE LAKE, also produced in good style
in every respect.
The house was kept open a full month longer
than was intended, in consequence of the news
coming that in the great fire which occurred in
Mobile, the Government Street Theatre was (as
before stated) swept away by the devouring element. So, while a new building was being erected, or, rather, an old building fitted up-at an
expense of $12,000-we had to " hold on" at St.
Louis, losing at the rate of $100 to $150 per day!
Dan Marble, Dempster (the sweet vocalist), and
Herr Cline were tried as stars, but all would not
do. The last gasp of the season was given on
the llth of December, and the company embarked for the South.
But, before I take the reader to the new scene
of loss and trouble, I intend to devote a short
chapter to some letters, which, at the time they
were written, kept the town in a continual grin
for a week or two. Through the post-office one
day I received the first of these letters, which I
immediately handed to the editors of the "Republican." Next day it appeared in that paper,
with prefatory remarks, as follow:
From the St. Louis Republican.
"We have been presented with the annexed
letter, and publish it for the purpose of giving
our readers an insight into the nature of the applications with which the managers of theatres
are constanty afflicted. It is addressed to Sol.
Smith, Esq., the worthy manager of our theatre.
"Miss Eliza Pelling to Sol. Smith.
"' St. Louis, October 7,1839.
"'MR. SOL. SMITH: MY DEAR SIR, —I have
taken the liberty of writing to you, as I am too
timid to hold a personal interview with you, the
modesty of my sex forbidding me to hold communion with one of yours; and I should now
despise myself for the action but that I am a
houseless wretch, scorned and despised by my
relations, and am destitute of shoes and stockings, and am reduced to the necessity of soliciting of you what I have never solicited of human
being before-an engagement at your theatre. I
have read much, and have seen a great deal of
acting in my time, although I am but eighteen
years of age. Mr. Forrest, Esquire, was an intimate acquaintance of my father's brother, who
became acquainted with him during a journey
up the Hudson; and, indeed, he promised to call
and see us, but he never kept his word; but my


uncle says he is a very good sort of a man. He
referred my uncle to Madame Celeste for his
character-and my uncle went to Boston on purpose-and Madame Celeste said that he was a
gentleman of very good parts, and spoke English
very fluently. But to the point. I have been
informed that you are in want of a leading actress. I am willing to engage with you to undertake that line of business at any time I may be
called upon to act. I am unfortunate, and the
landlady of my boarding-house holds me in
pledge until I pay her for my board. She says
that her behavior proceeds out of pure love toward me, but I do not believe her. I have been
very unhappy since I ran away from my parents,
who reside at Grand Gulf. They are of the
Methodist persuasion, and abominate actors and
all their tribe-but enough. You want to know
what line of business I can act. I will tell you.
I should like to play such parts as Little Pickle,
and Mrs. Haller, and general light comedy parts.
I am also very handy at my needle, and would
willingly mend any lady's or gentleman's wearing apparel belonging to your establishment;
and I would also wash for them, for I understand
that they dirty a great many pairs of stockings
in the course of the week, especially in the warm
weather. I can also prick down tunes, and am
willing to play supernumerary dancing-girls'
characters, provided you will not desire me to
dress in an indelicate manner, like the Adam and
Eve exhibiting in this city. I have often blushed
for the native modesty of my sex while gazing at
Madame Celeste in the BAYADERE, and Mr. Forrest in SPARTACUS. I should like to play Ariel
in the MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S Tempest, for I can
sing "Where the Bee lurks there suck I," and
"Round-a-round," and "Bonny Blue-cap," and
"Fancy Bread." It has been my greatest misfortune in life to be attached to theatricals. I
should have been married before this, and independent of the world, but that I abominate the
cold formalities imposed upon us by our religion. Mr. Marble is a very handsome man, and
so is Mr. Schinotti; but I think Mr. Marble is a
better actor. I wish you could inform me if Mr.
Marble is married, or if Mr. Schinotti is a widower. Don't say that I asked you. I have seen
Mr. Schinotti bathing in Chouteau's Pond very
often. I wish you would inform me if he has
any children. He makes good properties. I
don't think that Mr. De Gensen will ever be a
great actor, although he looks very well in a
helmet. Mr. Jones has the most expressive face
I ever saw. I was in hopes that he would have
played Roderick Dhu in the LADY OF THE LAKE.
I have heard him read the part with so much
feeling that he has frothed at the mouth. I have
also seen him play Kingerzu in the UNACCLIMATED INDIAN. He made his first appearance in
Boston as one of the front legs of the Elephant in
BLUEBEARD, and the time of the choruses was
to be directed by the motion of the proboscis of
the elephant, to which was attached a string held
by Mr. Jones. It so happened that he was seized
with a fit of the chills, when, not having presence
of mind to let go the string, the chorus singers
were led astray, and sang so fast that Mr. Ostenelli broke three fiddle-sticks in his rage. Mr.




142


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


Rose is a nice man, and wears well. My uncle
says that he remembers him forty years ago as
the owner of a log hut near the Niagara Falls,
and that he was the proprietor of a plantation
of split peas near to that place, and that he domesticated bullfrogs and kept them in wicker
baskets; he also vended quack medicines, and
had remedies against the bites of fleas. Why do
you not bring him before the public? I have
hitherto seen him do nothing but lead processions. If you could see him in doublet and hose
dance to the tune of "Peas upon a Trencher,"
you would lift up your hands with astonishment.
He can play female characters very well, such
as Lady Macbeth, Crackajowler, JTuliet, and Desdemona. I should like to play Othello upon that
occasion, for I would rather smother him than
any other man living. Some few years ago he
was bitten by a hydrophobic musquito, and for
many months after he ran trumpeting about our
house, occasionally dipping his nose into the
raw-beef tub. I can not tell if he has altered
since that time, but he was then distinguished
by a small tuft of hair, like a furze-bush, growing
in each nostril, and had the rudiments of whiskers. My landlady informs me that I shall not
obtain more than from fifty to sixty dollars per
night; but I do not believe her, for I can not
imagine that you would insult the sensitive feelings of genius by making such a paltry offer.
Should you feel inclined to avail yourself of my
services, you will do well to direct your answer
to                      ELIZA PELLING. "
In the same number of the " Republican" appeared a communication from Miss Pelling's father. Here it is:
George Pelling to the Editor.
"St. Louis, October 9.
" To the Editor of the Missouri Republican.:
"SIR,-My daughter, Eliza Pelling, having left
me, her heart-broken father, to pine with sorrow
in my old age, I have been searching for her every where, and have traced her to this city. I
reside at Grand Gulf, and am in comfortable circumstances. I have ever been a kind and indulgent father to her. Her motive for leaving me I
can not surmise, unless it be that she had a great
love for the theatrical profession. I have every
reason to believe that she is concealed in this
city. My motive for writing to you is urged by
the hope that you will give publicity to this letter by inserting it in your valuable journal. I
am willing to forgive her and forget the past, so
that she will return to her fond father's arms.
Let me entreat you to publish this letter, so that
it may reach her eye. She is the only prop of
my declining years. I promise her that I will
never revert to the past.
"By giving insertion to this communication,
you will oblige your obedient humble servant,
" GEORGE PELLING.
" P.S.-If Eliza Pelling will address a few lines
to X. Y. Z., and leave them at the Post-office,
they will be gladly attended to."
" October 10,1839.
"SIR,-Since the writing of my communication to you, I have discovered a clew that will


probably lead to the recovery of my lost child.
With many thanks for your proffered kindness,
I remain your obedient servant,
" GEORGE PELLING."
In a day or two afterward two other letters
were received by me from the lovely Eliza, one
of them being an inclosure for Dan Marble, the
popular Yankee delineator, who was fulfilling an
engagement in St. Louis at the time. They were
sent to the "Republican," in which paper they
appeared with preliminary editorial remarks.
From the St. Louis Republican.
"ELIZA PELLING AGAIN.
"This interesting young lady, whose somewhat lengthy epistle to the manager of our theatre was communicated to the world through
the columns of this paper, has been the subject
of very general remark and inquiry during the
past week. Her letter seems to have excited a
wish in our young beaux to witness her first appearance on the boards, for we can not imagine
for a moment that our gallant manager will. hold
out against the fair ]Eliza's pleading for an engagement. We have been favored with a perusal of two more letters-one, directed like the
first, to the manager, the other to Dan Marble,
the Yankee comedian, who is nightly convulsing
crowded audiences with his Yankee drolleries.
The penchant of the young lady for the stage and
stage performers is obvious, and not to be concealed. We must earnestly recommend that the
lovely Eliza be allowed to appear on the manager's benefit night.
"We subjoin a short extract from her second
letter to the manager, and give her moving appeal to the fascinating Dan entire.
" 'St. Louis, October 10,1839.
" ' SOL. SMITH, ESQ.: MY DEAR SIR,-By perusing this morning's paper, I find that my father,
George Pelling, is in this city. He doubtless is
in pursuit of me. Should he call upon you, I
hope that you will not betray me by showing
him my letter, for I am determined that I will
never go home unless he will allow me to have
a private theatre erected in his house, so that I
may be enabled to entertain a select company
of friends by the sole efforts of my theatrical
conceptions. Nor will I return with him unless
he will engage three or four of your actors to
play parts with me. On this I am bent, for I am
determined to act, and act I will; but let me request of you not to betray me unless you arc
compelled. I expected to have received an answer to my last letter, and sent to the Post-office
for that purpose, but was sadly disappointed;
you have not any of that gallantry which is so
becoming a propensity of your sex-but I must
forgive you. Your business doubtless prevented you from attending to my wants. But the
means of making reparation is now in your power, and can immediately be performed by forwarding to me a brace of flannel petticoats and
some pomatum; also three or four pairs of white
stockings that have not been darned, with a gro. s
or two of hair-pins. You can leave them for me
at the General Agency Office, Pine Street..




MORE LETTERS FROM THE "STAGE-STRUCK."


143


should like to play Belvidera for Mr. S.'s benefit.
I wish you would ask him. If he consents, you
will save me much time and trouble by purchasing forty-three yards of black silk velvet for me,
and a string of pearls. You can leave them for
me at the Agency Office.
"'1 Yours everlastingly,  ELIZA PELLING.
"'' Do not betray me to my father.'"
" ' Wednesday, October 16,1839.
"' D. MARBLE, ESQ.: SIR,-Excuse the liberty
I have taken in thus addressing you, for I am of
a sensitive and delicate constitution, so that a
harsh reply, especially from you, would cause
me hours of unutterable anguish. I have lately
been suffering from an attack of the spleen and
tic douloureux, and for which my doctor's bill
amounts to eighteen dollars and two bits. Do
not imagine that I am about asking you to pay
for it, for I would rather die than ask such a favor from you; but the awkward situation in
which I am placed, and, above all, the extreme
sensibility of my sex, causes the hectic blush
to pervade my frame even to my finger nails.
Would that I had never seen you! Yet you are
iot to blame. Had I never loved the theatrical
profession I should never have adored you-pardon the expression-the susceptibility of my sex
-the tears that bedew this paper. Oh! willingly would I become your seamstress and washerwoman, or hold the enviable situation of getterup of your small linen, so that I could be under
the same roof with you! Oh! how I did envy
the lady who chewed gingerbread with you upon
the stage! and oh! what horror ran through my
susceptible frame when you jumped off the Niagara scene! I thought that you had killed yourself, for the breath that left your body agitated
the sham water into very billows. But when I
saw you arrive safe on shore upon the stage I
went into a fit, and did not recover until fortyeight hours after. There are but few who love
with a fervor like to mine. None but a hammerer of anvils can form an idea of the intensity
of the heat pervading my susceptible heart. Yes,
I own it. I should be ashamed to disclose the
weakness of my sensitive nature to you but that
I am driven forward against my inclination, for
I believe myself to be right modest. There are
but two extremes to which a susceptible heart
like mine can be driven, and they are either hate
or love; but I prefer the latter. It is fortunate
for me that my landlady can not read, for she is
now peeping through her spectacles over my
shoulder, and her nose, resembling a full grown
and well boiled beet, dangles to and fro, like an
ill cooked pease-pudding, upon her puckered
face. She imagines that I am writing a penitent
letter to my father, with a request of a few hundred dollars, but she is mistaken. Little does
she imagine the love that preys upon my heart;
but, as I say in a poem that I have written upon
my unfortunate passion,
Men are deceivers,
and
Women believers!
and in the concluding linesMy fervent love, alas! away is thrown,
For, make the most of Marble,' tis but Stone.


Now I am so miserable in my mind that I have
determined to punish myself by abstaining from
the eating of animal flesh, and to appear abroad
squalid and slipshod; nor will I comb my hair,
nor know the use of nail or tooth-brush, and will
wander around the city of St. Louis and the suburbs like a hairy phantom, unless you will grant
me a boon-it is the last that I may ever beg of
you-promise to meet me at Chouteau's Pond
to-morrow evening between the hours of six and
seven. I am anxious to hold a conversation
with you. Can you be secret? Dare I trust myself with you? Alas! were I so inclined, the
jealous scrutiny of my landlady would prevent
it. It is probable that she will follow me, for
she will never trust me out of her sight until I
pay her for my board hire. I will conduct you
to a retired dell where we may converse without
the danger of interruption. Do not fail, as you
value the peace of your unhappy
" ' ELIZA PELLING.' "
I give the above as a specimen of the PELLING LETTERS, as they were called. Besides
the genuine letters of Miss Pelling (exclusively
in the "Republican"), other papers had spurious
letters purporting to be from the same party.
The "Pennant" spread itself on the "Pelling
Letters," all spurious, but excellent imitations,
and greatly increased its circulation by their publication. At length the height of absurdity was
reached by the fair Eliza (the spurious article)
offering to attend the theatre on the occasion of
my benefit, if a box were offered her properly
decorated for the occasion; and some young
men did actually go through the farce of taking
a boy, dressed up in a very gaudy and fashionable way, into the box prepared for Miss Pelling,
amid the plaudits of the audience. During the
delivery of Mawworm's extemporaneous address,
I took occasion to mention the visit of Miss Pelling, when she rose and courtesied repeatedly, to
the great amusement of the people.
I will give one more letter of Miss Pelling,
and dismiss her for the present.
Eliza Pelling to Sol. Smith.
<" St. Louis, November 27,1839.
"To SOL. SMITH, ESQ.:
"And is it true that you are about to quit St.
Louis for the balmy South with your company
of delightful players? Oh, do not go! I implore you, do not go! Your theatre is the solitary star of my destiny. How joyously my susceptible heart has throbbed when I have dwelt
upon the fame I should acquire by acting in
your theatre. I hope, for my sake, that you will
consider what you are about to do. Oh, what
would I not give were I permitted to show my
peculiar talents upon the front boards of your
stage-to hear the shouts of an enraptured audience-to blush with virgin modesty on beholding the waving of white cambric handkerchief;
of the ladies, and to cast my eyes to earth with
becoming bashfulness upon being quizzed by the




144


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


full-whiskered young men-to be called for at
the end of my performance by the delightful
spectators-to receive a coronet of white roses
from an admiring swain, and sundry pairs of
stockings from the sympathizing ladies: these
are visions of glory the which I had hoped would
have been realized; but now you are about to
quench the flame of my happiness by closing the
theatre.
"There are but two alternatives for me, the
stage or the madhouse. Ah! call it folly, infatuation, or what you will, it is decreed-an actress
I will be, or the precincts of a lunatic asylum
will be my cloister. You might even now avail
yourself of my valuable services, and gratify my
most ardent wishes, by paying my landlady the
small sum of eighty-five dollars. She would then
suffer me to depart. Oh, thou most glorious
shades of Thespis and Melpomene, together with
the wandering ghosts of XEschylus, Euripides,
Terence, and Aristophanes, I invoke thy aid. Is
it possible that I am not worth eighty-five dollars?. Did ever genius like to mine languish in
obscurity for so small a sum? My beauty, like
the blush of retiring eve, is fading away, and I
am covered with black and blue pinches from
my landlady's long fingers. Oh, you can not
form an idea of her tyranny; and her frightful
scowl at me through her spectacles inspires absolute terror. When she retires for the night,
I am compelled to accompany her, for she has
caused an iron ring with a chain to be fastened
to my ankle; and upon her getting into bed, she
uses the precaution to wind the aforesaid chain
twice or thrice around her arm, allowing me
sufficient length to slumber upon a bundle of
raccoon skins placed upon the floor for my accommodation, so that escape is rendered impossible. My only consolation during the night is
in reading tragedy play-books by the light of
the moon, or in reciting Mrs. Haller's domesticated speeches in the dark. Occasionally I
amuse myself by singing sweet and dulcet lays,
and such songs as are best calculated for my
shrill, bell-toned voice, viz., 'The Squire in
Boots,' 'Trundle the Hoop,' 'Down the Fern,
Davy, Love,' 'Penitential Groans,' and other
well-known melodies. Oh, sir, if you really
possess that philanthropy of soul for which you
are famed, release me from my cruel thraldom,
which noble and praiseworthy action can be
easily accomplished by forwarding to me about
one hundred dollars in specie (for I would not
tax your kindness by accepting of Illinois or
wild-cat paper bills, they being on a par with
each other). With the surplus money remaining (after having satisfied my avaricious landlady) I can purchase a parasol, reticule, and
other fancy articles; and, indeed, it is certain
that I must have silk stockings to endure the
inclemency of the winter.
" I implore you to keep open your theatre, if
only to oblige me. I am sure that you will be
a gainer by the venture, for I am convinced of
my great talents; and even that modern Longinus, Quevedo (who is suaviter in modo, fortiter in
re), would lift up his eyes and hands in an ecstasy of rapture, and his pen flourish forth praises
upon the merits of       ELIZA PELLING."


The last remark of Eliza, relative to " Quevedo," had reference to a writer in one of the daily
papers who assumed that name.
CHAPTER X.
I FEEL strangely tempted to pass over this
wretched season in Mobile (1839-40) in silence;
and, were it not for some anecdotical recollections belonging to this particular era, I should
do so.
Being in St. Louis, 1400 miles away, I had
nothing to do or say in the selection of the site
for the theatre which had been prepared for our
reception. I now say, however, that the location
was a most unfortunate one-away up in the
"Orange Grove," among the cotton warehouses.
and so inaccessible that several bridges had to
be built to enable people to get to it. The house
opened on the 31st of December, the night being
fair, to a receipt of $75 50!
In consequence of detentions on the way, I did
not arrive in person until the day after the opening, and I here declare that it was with considerable difficulty I found the new theatre! Nobody seemed to know where it was situated,
though some few of whom I inquired seemed impressed with the idea that there was a new theatre somewhere. At last I found a man who had
worked upon the building, and he told me it was
"awa-a-ay up yonder, beyond the steam-boats
and among the cotton presses." "Did it open
last night?" I ventured to inquire. "Well, I
haven't hearn," answered the man; " it was to."
I found the place at last-and such a place!
* * * I can't describe it, and will not attempt
to do so. The second (New Year's) night produced $66.
Stars this season, Conner, Le Compte, -Mason, Marble, Balls, Herr Cline, and the Ravel
family, which I went 500 miles-into Georgiato secure. Le Compte and the Ravels were the
only parties who could be said to have drawn
even " decent" houses, and their houses were far,
far below what would or could be called "paying," either to the manager or star.
The "Alhambra," a large ballroom  in the
city, was opened by the Chapman family with a
very small company, and did a good business.
J. M. Field played a starring engagement there,
not being this year a member of our company,
having (with his wife) accepte4an engagement
at the St. Charles, New Orleans. On his arrival
in Mobile he came to the theatre to see me; it
was in the night-time, and I shall never forget
the plight in which he appeared before me in my




LAST OF THE INFATUATED ELIZA.


145


dressing-room. He was literally covered with
mud from the soles of his boots to his arm-pits.
He had been told where he could find the theatre (" awa-a-ay up yonder, beyond the steamboats and among the cotton presses"), and Joe
had pushed through the swamp, urged by the
desire to take his old friend by the hand, striking a bee-line toward some lights which he rightly took for the street-lamps (only there was no
street) in front of the theatre. After talking
over old times for half an hour, I loaned him a
monk's cloak to hide his nastiness, and furnished
him a guide to his hotel.
During the season Miss Eliza Pelling again
made her epistolary appearance, in the shape of
a letter to the New Orleans Picayune, which the
editors sent to me, not deeming it of sufficient
interest to be laid before their readers, but which
would most likely interest me to a very considerable degree, inasmuch as the lovely Eliza therein
speaks of a certain report circulated to her disadvantage, that she "cherished a passion and
nourished a design to captivate the heart" of the
manager to whom she had addressed her previous appeals.
Eliza Pelling to the Editor of the Picayune.
" Pickinsville Theatre, Ala., Feb. 22,1840.
" Si,-I have observed, with all those proper
feelings of female modesty for which my susceptible sex are so justly famed, that a report, or
rather an insinuation, or something to that effect,
has found its way into various newspapers, and
from the which I have suffered somewhat a little materially, or perhaps a little more. I allude
to an observation, or rather an oblique hint, that
I have cherished a passion and nourished a design to captivate the heart of that worthy and
excellent gentleman, ' Mr. Sol. Smith, Esquire,'
comic actor and manager oftwo theatres, one at
St. Louis and the other at Mobile. Now I do
believe that it is well known to the world, especially to my learned and literary friends, that
an idea of love for that most esteemed and celebrated individual has never entered my mind,
except that a species of veneration and gratitude
a well-disposed female ever feels for one who
proffers kindness in the hour of distress and affliction can be so interpreted. It is, indeed, an
authenticated fact that, when I visited the theatre at St. Louis upon the benefit night of Mr. Sol.
Smith this last fall, he was pleased to pass some
very flattering remarks upon me as I sat in the
boxes, and promised me a situation the forthcoming spring at his theatre. He did this from
the public stage, and before the audience assembled upon that eventful occasion; whereupon I
arose, as I felt in duty bound, covered from head
to foot with modest blushes, and acknowledged
his kind proffer with a most reverent and becoming courtesy; upon which the ladies and
gentlemen present testified their approbation
by loud and continued applause, both with their
hands and feet; and many gentlemen, both young
K


and old, assembled in the parquet, kissed their
hands and bowed to me, with various contortions of countenance, as if inspired by an ecstasy
of rapture. Now, since this occurrence, and the
publication of various epistles I had addressed
to Mr. Sol. Smith, Esq., I have been accused of
cherishing a passion for that facetious gentleman. Oh, sir, I would that I could impress
upon your feelings what I have suffered since
that report has found its way to Alabama! I
am engaged as leading actress at the Pickinsville
Theatre, at a very liberal salary, but, owing to
the bad system of paper currency, I have not yet
received any emolument for my services. Since
I became a member of Pickinsville Theatre, an
excellent opportunity offered itself for my future establishment and comfort through life.
Mr. Ranter, our principal tragedian, made me a
tender both of his heart and hand: he is a most
excellent actor, and in impassioned scenes (actually and in a most natural manner) turns as red
as a Philadelphia brickbat in the face. Our manager says that 'he is all nature.' He has a very
bold voice and powerful lungs, and can sing the
' Bay of Biscay' in a stronger key than any person I ever heard; and his voice is sweet and powerful as a bass trombone. His regard for me was
testified by very delicate and feeling attentions,
such as procuring for me ' porter sangaree,' fried
oysters, and buckwheat cakes between the acts,
or copying a part from some particular play for
my study, carrying my wardrobe, escorting me
to the theatre and home again, and many other
gracious little offices of kindness, and for which
I began to feel more than grateful. I had also
another admirer in the person of Mr. Timotheus,
leader of the orchestra, who is a man of great
abilities, and who, in addition to the violin, performs also upon the Cornish trumpet and occasionally upon the Pandean pipes. He is a perfect Orpheus, and would be more than endurable did he not, whilst performing on the violin,
indulge the exquisite sensibility of his nature by
closing his eyes and making the most hideous
grimaces. He conducts the orchestra with great
precision and judgment: it consists of a violin,
a key bugle, a fife, and a long drum; they sound
very loud, and can play 'Hail! Columbia' and
' Yankee Doodle' in any possible key. The band
is very much admired here, and the discriminating audience frequently testify their approval
and evince their musical taste by a simultaneous
encore upon hearing those beautiful airs, 'Longtailed blue' and ' Sittin' on a rail.' But I digress.
I may, at some future opportunity, forward to
you a description of our company and its capabilities. My object in writing this epistle is to
convince you that, since the appearance of the
before-mentioned ill-timed reports of the newspapers, I have lost the attentions both of Mr.
Ranter and Mr. Timotheus; and, although I have
vowed by ' Sol and the presiding stars' that the
worthy editors of the newspapers have been misinformed, they have nevertheless ceased to opportune me with their vows of affection. Trusting that, for the recovery of my reputation, you
will give this letter publicity, so that my friends
may sympathize with me, I remain, dear sir,
" Yours, etc., the unhappy ELIZA PELLING."




146


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


This is the last I heard from the stage-struck
Miss Pelling; and I may as well say here that
it was soon afterward discovered that the writer
of the PELLING LETTERS, which caused so many
hearty laughs, was no other than our musical director, E. Woolf, Esq.
Of all the seasons I ever had any thing to do
with, this of 1840 in Mobile was the most unsuccessful. The company was good, the stars were
those who had been attractive elsewhere. The
losses of the season's business could not have
been less than $1000 per week!
One afternoon during this unlucky winter, as
I was passing the lottery-office of Mr. Gregory, I
was hailed by that gentleman and invited to purchase a ticket in a Baltimore lottery, the only one
he had left. "It is sure to draw a big prize,"
said Mr. Gregory, " and I want you to have it."
"What is the price of the ticket?" I asked.
"Fifteen dollars," he answered. "Come, take
it; it will make up all your losses, and make you
a rich man." I confess I felt a desire to take it,
and, what's more, I felt a presentiment it would
draw a prize. " Come, say quick; if not sold at
four o'clock-and it now lacks but five minutes
of that hour-I have got to mail it to Baltimore." I took out my pocket-book and recorded the numbers, but, on counting the money I
had with me, found I had but eleven dollars and
a half, and told Mr. Gregory so. He said, " That
makes no difference; you can take the ticket
and hand me the balance to-morrow." But
against yoing into debt for a lottery ticket my
mind revolted, and I decided not to take it.
"You'd better," said Gregory. "No," I replied,
firmly, "I'm in debt enough already."  "You
won't take it?" "No." "Positively?" "Positively. " " Well, here it goes, then, into the letter, and off to the post-office. " And off it went,
and off I went, congratulating myself on having
successfully resisted the temptation to gamble;
but many times that night I caught myself thinking, " If it should turn out a prize!"
Ten days afterward I was passing along Royal
Street, when I was again hailed by Mr. Gregory: "Smith, come in here." I went in there.
" What did I tell you about that ticket I offered
you-that last ticket?" "You said I would be
sorry I didn't take it." " Yes, I did, and I think
you will be sorry when I tell you that that ticket
-that very ticket-drew the $75,000 prize." I
looked at my memorandum of the numbers, and
compared it with the official drawing which
Gregory placed in my hand, and, sure enough,
the ticket which I refused to purchase had drawn
the highest prize, and I had escaped being made
a rich man.


A Slim House.
In the course of my management, it may be
well supposed that the receipts have on some occasions been very small, but it has seldom happened that a performance has taken place without the presence of a dozen or two who paid for
their admission. It will be seen by what I am
now about to relate that in one instance a performance took place (at least in part) before
about the smallest paying audience on record.
It was a very rainy night. The play advertised was TORTESA, THE USURER, with Mr. E.
Conner as the star, after which the celebrated
Herr Cline was to go through with his wonderful feats upon the tight rope-the performance
to conclude with the farce of the RENDEZVOUS.
Conner was to receive, and did receive, $50 for
his night's services; Herr Cline was to get one
clear third of the receipts, and our nightly expenses were two hundred and fifty dollars. Contrary to my usual custom, I did not go to the
theatre in the early part of that eveniing, having
no part to play in the first piece, but at about
nine o'clock I wended and waded my way thither,
and found the curtain just falling upon TORTESA.
Herr Cline, dressed for his performance, met me
as I entered.
"Oh! for God's sake," said he, imploringly,
"don't compel me to dance to this handful of
people; the night is so bad, there are not twenty
dollars in the house. Come, let me off; dismiss
the audience, and let them go home."
In this petition he was joined by all the actors
who had parts in the afterpiece.
" This is all very well," said I, " to ask me to
dismiss the audience; but you forget that this
'handful of people' have come nearly a mile
through the pitiless storm, on the promise held
out in our bills. No, no; if they require the
performance in full, they shall have it. I am
willing, however, if they are entirely satisfied to
receive their money back-but not otherwise —to
abandon the rest of the programme and let you
all go home. Before putting the question to the
audience, however, I must " look into the treasury."
As I passed across the stage to the box-office,
I cast my eye through a hole in the curtain, and
could discover in front not more than a dozen
faces, counting bar-keepers, dead-heads, and all.
I found the ticket-seller sitting on a high stool in
the office, looking as melancholy as an undertaker in a healthy season.
"'What are the receipts?" I asked.
"Guess," said he.
I guessed fifteen dollars.




A RAINY NIGHT AND A SMALL AUDIENCE.


147


"You have gussed just fourteen dollars above
the mark," said the treasurer, throwing down
two half dollars upon the shelf where the money
was taken in.
"Only one ticket sold?" gasped I.
"Only one ticket sold," remarked he, coolly,
again jingling the two half dollars upon the shelf,
to give me full assurance that what he said was
entirely true.
"And a five act play has been given to the
one discerning and discriminating purchaser of
that single ticket," I remarked.
"Exactly so," said the treasurer.  "You
know your rule, "No postponement on account
of weather."
" Stop a little," I said; " I'll go and see this
gentleman-he may be bought off;" and away I
went into the front of the house. I soon found
the gentleman, seated exactly in the centre of
the parquette, listening very attentively to "an
overture by the orchestra," which formed a part
of the programme upon the bills of the evening.
"Quite a rainy night, sir, I said, addressing
the attentive listener to the overture, seating myself at his side. He did not reply except by a
polite inclination of the head.
" You will, I hope, excuse the request I am
about to make of you," said I, as soon as the
overture was finished (another nod from the
gentleman); " but it being, as I remarked, quite
a rainy night, our efforts here" (pointing to the
stage) "have not been so well rewarded as the
attractions offered might seem to deserve" (another nod). " In brief, sir, you are the only
individual in the house who has paid for admission (nod); and we ask it as a favor that you
will receive back your money, and relieve our
actors from farther exertions to amuse you this
evening."
Several emphatic nods, and one or two shrugs
of the shoulders, were the only responses I received to this civil speech. After waiting a moment for an answer in words, I ventured to repeat my request that he would receive back his
money, at the same time tendering the identical
half dollars the treasurer had been jingling the
whole evening. The gentleman stared at the
money, and then at me, as if he was at a loss to
understand the meaning of my words and action.
It suddenly occurred to me that the gentleman
might be a little hard of hearing; so, placing my
mouth close to his ear, I again requested his acceptance of the money, and demanded his permission to omit the remainder of the performance. Thus adjured for the third time, the gentleman at length opened his mouth, set his tongue
in motion, and spoke as follows:


"Monsieur, je ne comprends pas un mot de
ce que vous dites; mais je suppose que vous parlez de l'excellente representation, et dans ce cas
je suis d'accord avec vous-c'est superbe! Monsieur Conner est un jeune acteur charmant, et
Madame Farren est delicieuse!"
(Sir, I do not understand a word you say; but
I suppose you are remarking on the excellent
performance, in which case I agree with you-it
is superb. Mr. Conner is a fine young actor,
and Mrs. Farren is great.)
Mustering up the very limited knowledge I
possessed of the French language, after imparting to him the information that I was one of the
directors of the theatre, I managed to let him
know what it was I wanted of him, which he no
sooner comprehended than he acceded to my request with the greatest readiness, so far as remitting his claim to the rest of the performance;
but in my bad French I found it utterly impossible to persuade him to take back his dollar.
The polite Frenchman lighted a cigar at the
door, hoisted his umbrella, and went forth, calling back to me, "Bon soir, Monsieur le Directeur; je n'ais pas compris le language de votre
piece; mais elle etait bien jouee-tres bien jouee.
Madame Farren est une splendide actrice. Bon
soir, Monsieur le Directeur."
(Good evening, Mr. Director; I did not understand the language of your play, but it was
well acted-very well acted. Madame Farren
is a splendid actress. Good evening, Mr. Manager.)
So there had been a large company of actors
and actresses performing a play in five acts to
the bare walls, two or three bar-keepers, a dozen
dead-heads, and one paying auditor, who did not
understand a word of the English language.
CHAPTER XI.
THE regular season was brought to a premature close about the 1st of March, and the company proceeded to St. Louis, where it was hoped
better business awaited it. I remained in Mobile, where, as if I had not had enough of the infernal bad business in the Swamp Theatre, it was
concluded that, with a few regulars and two or
three amateurs, a short spring season should be
made, for the purpose of receiving Mr., Mrs.,
and Miss Barnes; and they came; and they
performed-to such houses! Oh! it is impossible to extract from the old cash-book of that
day the wretched figures which recorded the receipts. But we had some fun, notwithstanding,
old Jack and I. For instance, our orchestra in




148


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


the after season being composed of negroes and
mulattoes, who did not understand a note of
music except "by rote," it was my lot to sit
in the leader's chair and accompany old Barnes
in his comic songs! Be it understood, however,
that I always sent out the colored band before I
took my seat in the orchestra. In the SPRIGS
OF LAUREL (as Nipperkin), old Jack had these
lines to sing:
"A lass is good, and a glass is good,
And a pipe to smoke in cold weather;
The world is good, and the people are good,
And we're all good fellows together."
Which he changed a little, singing thus:
"A lass is good, and a glass is good,
And a pipe to smoke in cold weather;
Old Sol is good,. and his fiddle is good,
But we can't draw the people together!"
Any one who has seen Jack Barnes play Nipperkin can imagine how this "brought down
the house," when informed that it was only in
the repeat that he made the change, and that he
accompanied the words with appropriate winks
and blinks at poor me, as I sat all alone by myself on a high seat, playing as well as I could under such circumstances, and playing left-handed
at that!
Mrs. Barnes and Charlotte (bless them!) made
the best of every thing, and every thing was bad
enough, that is certain-never complaining of
the wretched support they received from our inefficient part of a company and the ambitious
amateurs before mentioned. We got through at
last, and the doors of that theatre were closed,
never to be seen opened again by me.
In a tight place pecuniarily.
As I intimated just now, the company had departed for St. Louis, and I was left to settle up
matters in Mobile, Yes, to " settle up matters,"
without any means to settle up 'matters with. I
am not going to inflict upon the reader a detailed description of the hell upon earth I had to endure during the two months I remained South.
One little incident must serve as a specimen
of the many "tight places" I had to squeeze
through, and I select it because in so doing I
am enabled to make mention of one of the many
acts of kindness which made up the life of Thaddeus Sanford, a man whom I am proud to call
FRIEND —now no more.
In 1835, '36, and '37, individually, and as a
member of our theatrical firm, I had been in the
habit of "changing checks" with Mr. Sanford and
one other individual in Mobile, to any amount
when needed, and it is but the sheer truth to
say that the balance of obligation (though I did




not consider it in that light) was not on my side.
The checks were always paid, and, as we received
no interest on our deposits in bank, it was just
as well those friends should have the use of
money we did not for the moment want as to let
it lie useless in the coffers of the bank. The
crash of 1837 brought every body up " all standing," as the saying is. There was no more
changing checks with anybody. Poor Mr. Sanford was deeply involved for friends, and the
"other individual" could barely weather the
gale, with every disposition on the part of the
bank directors to help him through; but he did
weather it, and at the time I am now writing of
was flourishing in business about as usual, while
Mr. Sanford was straining every nerve to meet
renewals of the paper of his friends on which his
name appeared as indorser for their accommodation.
Mr. Sanford was at this time President of the
Bank of Mobile. It so happened that, at the
burning of the Emanuel Street Theatre in the
fall of 1838, he war on a rent note of ours for
$5000, which note was now in the course of payment by renewals and reductions every ninety
days. Up to this time the payments had been
met; but now, my partner having found it utterly impossible to remit the sum from St. Louis,
and all my untiring exertions to raise the amount
in Mobile having proved unavailing, the note
went to protest. I give the Rillowing note to
the reader, with the assurance that coals of fire
poured upon my head could not have caused me
more pain than did the wdrds of which it is composed:
"Mobile, -  -, 1836.
"FRIEND SOL,-The note of your firm, on
which I am indorser, having gone to protest
yesterday (probably through some mistake of
yours as to the date of its maturity), it will be
necessary to attend to it this morning, if I am
to take my seat at the board this afternoon.
" In haste, yours truly,  T. S."
If I lived I must raise the sum required before three o'clock. I only wanted the sum for
thirty days, being about to visit Columbus, Ga.,
where I knew I could raise some money by sacrificing certain town lots I owned there.
I went to every man in Mobile who had the
reputation of having money to loan, offering a
valuable negro woman as security, and proposing
to pay any rate of interest, and, among others,
that " other individual" spoken of as having had
the use of our surplus funds-and do you think I
could raise $500? I couldn't!
At a quarter before three o'clock, with feet
sore with walking and heart sore at the discovery that those I thought my friends failed me as




"A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED."


149


soon as it was in their power to serve me, I
sought out Mr. Sanford. The moment I entered the office he saw I was suffering greatly in
mind, and, pointing to a chair, asked what was
the matter.
"What's the matter?" I groaned, casting his
note upon the table before him; " the matter is
this: Your name is under protest as indorser on
our note; you are president of the bank, and/obr
us must vacate your office. That's the matter;
for if it were to save my life I could not raise
$500 this day."
lie remained silent about a minute, looking
more serious than I had ever seen him; then,
taking a pinch of snuff (the idea of taking snuff
at such a moment!), and looking into my face,
he said,
"So you can't raise money for this renewal?"
"Exactly so," I replied, desperately; "I can
not!"
"You have been trying, I suppose?" he quietly asked.
"Trying?" answered I, bitterly; "I have
been all over the town-asked every friend-"
"Oh!" said he. "You have asked every
friend?"
"Yes," I continued, "asked every one I
thought to be my friend-offered any security,
any rate of interest, and all, all in vain. I am
ready to make an assignment of every thing I
have on earth-break, fail-any thing.    In
short, I am desperate."
"Well, well," answered Mr. Sanford, in a tone
a little sarcastic, I thought, "you have been to
every friend, you say?"
" Yes, I say again, every friend."
"And can't raise $500?"
" And can't raise $500."
He here took another pinch of snuff, and, turning in his chair" By-the-by," said he, "have you dined?"
"Dined?" said I-" dined? Do you imagine
I can dine, with my heart stopping up my throat?
No, I have not dined, nor do I intend to dine
this day, or ever, unless I can get over this difficulty." And I rose to depart.
"Stop a moment, if you please," said Mr.
Sanford, motioning me to resume my seat.
"This renewal is not yet provided for."
" I have told you over and over again that all
is over. I can not raise the money, even by
pledging my life's blood."
"And you have applied to all your friends?
Look here, Mr. Sol Smith, I have a word or two
to say to you. You have used me badly."
"I know it. You are under protest on my
account."


" Hear me through," interposed he, laying his
hand gently upon my arm; "I say you have
used me badly, and, for the first time during our
acquaintance of ten years, I must accuse you of
not telling the exact truth."
"Sir-Mr. Sanford-" I began"Now I have a little piece of advice to give
you at this time," he resumed, "and it is this:
You had better go to dinner; Mrs. Smith will be
uneasy at your absence."
I rose from my seat in utter amazement. The
language and tone he had assumed was any thing
but agreeable to my ears at that moment, and I
was on the point of making a somewhat angry
remark, when he rose from his seat, shut his
snuff-box, and went on with what he had to say
without farther interruption from me.
"Now are not you a pretty fellow? I ask
you, are you not? Here have you been running
around the town until you are tired to death;
letting your dinner-time pass without even sending home word, I'll be bound, that you would
not be there; been to all your friends, as you
say, endeavoring-in vain-to raise $500 for
thirty days! I say here to your face, you have
not been to all your friends. There is one friend
you have not applied to, and that is Thaddeus
Sanford, editor of the Register, and President of
the Bank of Mobile! Now, what have you got
to say for yourself?"
I was so utterly overwhelmed that I could say
nothing for several moments. When I did get
my tongue, I said that, knowing his numerous
involvements for friends, and the large sums he
was obliged to raise daily, it had never occurred
to my mind (and it hadn't) to ask him for assistance.
"Ah!" said he, taking his hat and cane,
"that's it-that's what I complain of-that you
should have left me out-me, that, in your prosperous days, you have often accommodated-me,
that you should have come tofirst. As for the
large sums I have to raise, that is all true; but
this $500 is but a drop in the bucket. There's
the note for the renewal. Sign it. I will see
that it is all right. You will be in funds and
can repay me in thirty days. Now go and eat
your dinner."
Now, reader, have I made myself understood
in the foregoing sketch? Not if you are not impressed with a most favorable opinion of my old
friend. Thank God! he has never lost a dollar
through me, or any one connected with me. As
for the sentiment entertained by me for the gentleman whose name I have so freely used on the
last page or two, it may be judged of from the
fact that one of my sons, now twenty-eight years




0


150                 AUTOBIOGRAPHY O]
of age, bears his name, and I pray that he may
be always worthy to bear it. As for his noble
godfather, he has gone to his rest in that undiscovered country where there are no notes to be
renewed, nor any "shinning" to be done.
After making a trip into Georgia, where I was
persuaded to "give evidence" to a public meeting
of citizens that General W. H. Harrison was not
an abolitionist, I was selected by the Odd Fellows of Mobile to deliver an address to the fraternity on the occasion of the anniversary of the
formation of the Order in America, which duty I
performed to the best of my ability, in the Unitarian Church. If there is any true PRACTICAL
CHRISTIANITY in this world, it is my belief it
may be found in an Odd Fellows' lodge.
My old friend J. M. Field took a benefit at the
St. Charles, New Orleans, about the time I was
to pass through that city, and as "I owed him a
night" since 1835, when he played for me at my
benefit at the Park Theatre, as well as an abundance of good will, I accepted his invitation to
"appear" for him in one of my comic characters,
Timothy Sharp, in Garrick's farce of the LYING
VALET. On the day of my appearance the following welcome appeared in the Picayune, from
the pen of Matt Field, at that time one of the
editorial staff of that paper:
SONNET TO SOL
Sol-fa! sol-fa! Ut, re, mi, fa, sol, la!
La, sol, fa, mi, re! How are you, Old Sol?
Welcome to Orleans, worthy old soul,
With your grave-looking phiz and your cimical poll;
Three cheers and a welcome hearty and whole,
"Red fire" and "a flourish!" Sol-fa, sol-fa!
And why does Sol pause on his brilliant way?
What Joshua orders the light to stay?
A Joe, not a Joshua, wins the ray
That beams in the night as well as the day!
To-night in " the Temple" Old Sol will shine,
Will "the Temple" be thus a dome of the Sun?
May Sol, the mortal, be ever divine,
And his course be bright till his race is rn!
*  PAZMA.
The bills truly stated it was my first appearance in the Crescent City for nine years. Joe
had a fine house, but whether the receipts were
increased at all by my being announced to appear, this deponent saith not, for he don't know.
This was my only appearance upon the boards
of the first St. Charles Theatre. Next day, in a
notice of Field's benefit, by George Wilkins Kendall, the following sentence occurred:
" Old Sol's reception on this occasion was one
of the most enthusiastic things which has occurred at the temple during the present season."
On the 7th of June I embarked on the steamer Chester, Captain Cable, for St. Louis, and
next day began to witness the effects of the


F A RETIRED ACTOR.


terrible tornado which devastated the city of
Natchez (Miss.) on the 6th, in the shape of floating barrels, hams, dead poultry, lumber, etc.,
which seemed to fill the river. Wrecks of boats
were continually passing down. It is said 104
flat-boats were moored at the landing when the
storm commenced, and when it was over not one
of them was to be seen, nor were they ever heard
of afterward! On the 8th we stopped at the devoted city, and I wandered through its desolate
streets. Whole trees, blown from the opposite
side of the river, were strewn in the streets; also
the carcases of numerous dead cows, oxen, and
horses. What a sight! The theatre, at the
opening of which I "assisted" twelve years previously, and which I had afterward managed for
a season, shared the fate of nearly every other
building, and was in ruins. Fragments of scenery, palanquins, canvas cottages, gates, palingfences, castles, thrones, and painted stone walls
lay scattered about the old grave-yard in most
"admired disorder."  On our way up we saw
thousands upon thousands of trees which had
been torn up by their roots by the tornado, in
strips half a mile wide, and other thousands upon
thousands which had been stripped of their bark!
As I was personally present in St. Louis but a
very short time during the season of 1840, I propose to omit nearly all particulars of its progress.
I went to Cincinnati and played an engagement
of six nights with no great pecuniary results,
though my benefit was very largely and fashionably attended, the entertainment comprising Or
AGE TO-MORROW, in which I played five characters, THREE AND DEUCE, in which I personated the three brothers, and the comedy of the
HYPOCRITE, in which I appeared as Mawworm
-nine characters in all. It was the year of the
"Hard Cider" campaign, and theatricals were
dull every where.
I went to Illinois to inquire about my lands,
and found they were so covered up by tax titles
that they were considered worth very little indeed-not more than 25 or 30 cents per acre, at
about which price I eventually sold them. They
nominally cost me $4 50 per acre, but I was as
glad to get rid of them at any price as I was to
get rid of my newspaper in Mobile, in payment
for which I had received them.
The theatre opened March 26. The stars
were Conner, Llewellen (and horse), Le Compte,
Eaton, Sinclair, the Barneses, Barrett, A. A.
Adams, and Dan Marble. Adams had the talent to rival Forrest, but he was addicted to putting that "enemy in his mouth that steals away
the brains." It is said JACK CADE was originally written for him by Judge Conrad.




"ONE MAN IN HIS TIME PLAYS MANY PARTS."


151


Finding our firm becoming more and more involved in debt, and being considerably behind
with the salaries of Mr. and Mrs. Farren, I proposed to let them have a beautiful building site
I had purchased from Henry Chouteau, consisting of about three acres, on which I had intended to build a home for myself, if I should ever
have the means to do so. They accepted, and
the deeds were made out in Mrs. Farren's name,
and a clause inserted in the deed of trust to secure the deferred payments, that any debts due
to them by the firm for salary and benefits should
go as so much on the payment. This turned out
a good bargain for Mrs. Farren, and she richly
deserves her good fortune, for a better woman
does not walk the earth.
The season was an unprofitable one, but I
passed most of the summer in making arrangements which were to lift from us a portion of the
heavy burden of debt by which we were crushed
down, as will shortly appear.
On one of the several trips I made on the river,
I had a little experience which I will now relate:
Doctoring and Piloting.
Western men will remember the Vandalia,
which was for many years a popular and profitable freight and passenger boat on the Mississippi, and which only ceased running in 1842 or '43.
She was an "eight-day boat," and, before the
introduction of the Scotts, Whites, Missouris,
Shotwells, and Eclipses, was set down as a "fastrunning" vessel, being rated at our insurance offices A No. 1.
The incidents I am about to relate occurred in
the summer of '40.
The river was low, and it was not thought advisable to "run nights"-at any rate, until we
got below Memphis.
There was considerable sickness among the
deck passengers, and as I was the only physician on board, my time was much occupied in
weighing out grains, drachms, and scruples of
calomel, jalap, and ipecacuanha from the medicine-chest. This I got along with very well,
having a faithful assistant in the clerk, Thompson, who went the rounds with me, and took particular care that my prescriptions were attended to.
One evening the steward came to my stateroom and said that Captain Small desired to
speak with me.
" What!" I exclaimed, more than half asleep
-for, truth to say, I was snatching an afternoon's nap, to make up for the loss of rest caused
by my professional attendance on the lower deck


-"is the captain taken sick? Well, bring me
the medicine-chest. How was he taken-fever?
Tell Thompson to give him the usual dose of
ipecac to clear out his stomach, and I'll be with
him before it operates."
" You are mistaken, doctor"-(they all called
me so during this voyage)-" the captain is not
sick; he wants to see you on particular business."
"Oh, that's a different matter; ask the captain to come to my state-room."
Away went the steward, and soon after the
captain made his appearance. After the usual
inquiries by me of "How do we get on?" and
" How far have we run to-day?" and an apology
from him for disturbing me, the worthy captain
opened the business of the evening.
" I fear our first pilot's in a bad way; nothing
will stay on his stomach," remarked Captain
Small, taking a chair, and stretching out his legs
in the easy way that captains of steam-boats will.
"Can't you do any thing for him?" he asked.
"I fear not," was my answer; " I have tried
every thing in the medicine-chest: there is no
hope whatever of his being able to take his post
at the wheel during this voyage; soon as we arrive at New Orleans he had better go to Stone's
Hospital; a month's care in that excellent institution will probably restore him."
" This is very unlucky," grumbled the captain.
"I wanted to 'run nights' after to-night, and
the second pilot can not stand double watches.
What's to be done?"
I quietly told him I didn't know what was to
be done, and supposed the business was over;
but Captain Small lingered, gave two or three
"ahems," spat violently through the state-room
door and over the guards, changed his position
several times, and at length continued the conversation:
"Mr. Sol, I understand that during your life
you've turned your hand to 'most every thing."
" Well, I have-"
" I have heard of your merchandising, your
preaching, your acting, and your doctoring; did
you ever try your hand at PILOTING?"
"Piloting? Never-unless occasionally lending a hand at steering a flat-boat may be considered piloting."
The captain looked somewhat disappointed
when he received my answer, and rose to depart.
" What is it you want?" I asked.
Looking up in my face, he said, "I want a
pilot; we can't run nights with one; Jim being
down with the fever, and there being no hope of
getting him up, I thought if you-"
"Am I to understand you that, failing to get




152


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


Jim on his legs, you wish me to stand watch as
pilot?"
" Why, if you would-Thompson says you can
if you will."
"But what would the insurance companies
say in case of accident?" I inquired.
"That's the point," answered the captain;
" I wanted you to take Jim's place at the wheel,
and assume his character at the same time. If


and all, stalking up to the wheel-house. A supposed sore throat, the effects of salivation, was a
sufficient reason for the pilot's taciturnity during
the remainder of the voyage.
In my character of doctor I had some difficult
duties to perform; as an actor and manager, my
path had not always been strewn with roses; as
a preacher, I had perspired "a few;" and as a
lawyer, some hard cases had come under my su

you will do this, we shall save at least forty-eight perintendence; but this PILOTING was by far the
hours between this and New Orleans."       most difficult job I had ever undertaken.  It
I pondered a moment, and then asked when was observable that, while passing over "bad
he wished me to assume my new duties.      places," Captain Small was always in the pilot"At the commencement of the dog watch-   house, which was somewhat strange, as Jim was
six P.M. to-morrow," he answered.          known to be one of the most careful and compe"Enough said; I'LL DO IT! Consider me tent pilots on the Mississippi; but this was acengaged, and be so good as to send Thompson to counted for from the fact that the captain was
me."                                       young at the business, and wanted to learn the
The captain departed, rejoicing at my ready river.
acquiescence, and that same evening a report  We arrived without accident at New Orleans,
went through the boat that Jim was much bet- and I do assure you I felt much relieved myter, and would be able to resume his post at the self, though, as a faithful physician, I felt it to
wheel very shortly. Thompson came to me, and be my duty to recommend that poor Jim, being
I arranged with him to give our patients a fare- much worse, from his constant attention to his
well dose all round, and pronounce them cured. duties at the wheel, should be sent to Dr. Stone's
Next evening I visited the pilot's state-room, hospital for a month. I am happy to say that
and just before six o'clock the tall figure of Jim ' Jim recovered, and was ready to resume his post
was seen (or was supposed to be seen) enveloped in the wheel-house on the very next trip of the
in his great-coat, a large hat pulled over his eyes, Vandalia. He never meets me without calling
and a bandana tied around his neck, coat collar out, SOL, WHO'S AT THE WHEEL?




ACT FOURTH.


1840-1845.


CHAPTER I.
SINCE 1818 Mr. Caldwell had enjoyed a monopoly of the theatrical business in New Orleans,
and although often urged by personal friends to
try my fortune in that city, my friendly relations
with Mr. Caldwell forbade any serious considerfini hv rnme nf thpir tptnftinr rlnnnAsitinns in rp.

the people of that part of the city would stand,
and the old American was closed as a theatre,
never to be reopened.
New Orleans and Mobile being neighboring
cities, and the managers on friendly terms with
each other, many civilities and courtesies were
exchanged between them; and it is but just to
say that we were areatlv benefited bv the aood




gard to a new theatre. In 1834 the manage- understanding which existed between the St.
ment of the American Theatre in Camp Street Charles and St. Emanuel managements, particuhad passed temporarily (by lease) into the hands larlv in the facilities afforded us of obtaining any
of Messrs. Russell and Rowe, Mr. C.'s long-time quantity of star-light we might need, without
stage-manager and treasurer; and it was sup- going far for it. Yet it sometimes happened that
posed the Pioneer of the Drama in the South, as the St. Charles desired to relieve itself temporahe had been called-not altogether justly, I think rily of some of its " lesser lights" when it did not
-would be content to " repose on his laurels and exactly suit the convenience of the St. Emanuel
losses," consoled for the latter by the splendid to permit them to shine upon its boards, and
fortune which was just then opening to him in this occasional reluctance of the St. Emanuel to
the shape of a charter for lighting the city with I accommodate itself entirely to the convenience
gas. A decided reaction for the better in the of the St. Charles led to some slight dissatisfacbusiness of the theatre, however-the new lessees tion in the mind of Manager Caldwell, who was
having realized a profit of thirty thousand dol- so used to exercise unlimited sway in his own
lars in one season-seemed to beget in Mr. Cald- realm that he began to think of extending his
well a desire to resume the reins of theatrical dominion a little. During a visit of mine to New
management; and, being now abundantly able, Orleans in the winter of 1838-9, directly after
in a pecuniary way, to carry out his views, the the burning of the St. Emanuel Theatre in Momagnificent ST. CHARLES was projected, and in bile, we had some serious discussions relative to
an incredibly short period of timq opened to the a proposition made to me by Mr. C. for the ocpublic. This latter event took place on the 30th cupancy of several weeks of our season, then proof November, 1835. The decease of Mr. Rowe gressing in the Government Street Theatre, by
by suicide in Nashville, followed by that of Mr. certain members of his stock company as starsRussell by congestion of the brain in New Or- Messrs. J. R. Scott, J. S. Browne, H. J. Finn,
leans, threw the Camp Street Theatre again into and others-fine actors, undoubtedly, and fully
the hands of its original occupant and owner; entitled to any position they might aspire to, but
so that, with the two American theatres, Mr. not at that time, managerially speaking, worth
Caldwell once more held undisputed sway over engaging on starring terms, to the exclusion of
the destinies of the English Drama in the Cres- Ellen Tree, Forrest, and Booth, who were all
cent City. But, after a trial of one season, find- three in negotiation with us; and, in the heat of
ing that two theatres in the second municipality our argument, Mr. C. said:
were too many by one, he concentrated his forces  "I must control the drama in Mobile. Several


in the St. Charles, and turned the Camp Street
house into a ballroom! I am deterred by shame
from writing or speaking of the character of the
balls given within those once-honored walls, as
reported to me by respectable citizens. Suffice
it to say that one season of that sort of enterr
tainment in that municipality was as much as


citizens, not altogether satisfied with your management, have already expressed a wish that I
would build a theatre there; and if you*will not
co-operate with me, and receive such persons as
I choose to send you, I will build a theatre at
once in your city."
To which I answered:




154


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


"All right; Mobile is open to you and all us to build such a theatre as was required in
other managers.   Our theatre being burned Mobile. He therefore caused proposals to be
down and we being obliged to occupy the Gov- privately circulated for the building of a " sp]Lenernment Street concern, a new theatre in a good did new theatre," and invited the citizens to take
location would take the business, and we should stock therein. (I can not learn to this day that
be driven from our ground and compelled to seek one dollar was subscribed by the worthy citizens
some other city for our operations. New Or- who had so strongly invited him to build.)
leans is near, and might support a second thea-  I was in Mobile at the time, settling up the
tre, which Mobile can not do; so, if you build a winter's business, but did not hear of the movetheatre in our city, you must not be surprised if ment for several days after the paper had been
we should attempt a competition with you here." put in circulation; but when I found out, through
"Oh! of course, of course," replied Mr. Cald- a friend, that a demonstration was assuredly to
well, "you have a perfect right to open a second be made-I was in Mr. Sanford's editorial room at
theatre here, though one can scarcely be support- the time; it was a quarter past 12 o'clock P. M.ed, except out of the manager's pocket; and it is I scribbled and sent a note to my wife informing
certainly quite likely you can find friends to erect her I should be off in the 1 o'clock boat for New
a house for you here in New Orleans, while you Orleans, and asking her to send my valise and a
acknowledge your friends have failed to assist in couple of shirts. At 1 I was off, sure enough,
rebuilding the St. Emanuel."                and at 8 o'clock next morning I was eating breakI replied, " I have frequently been invited to fast at the St. Charles Hotel in the Crescent City.
this city by responsible individuals, who, 'not al-  On Poydras Street, between St. Charles and
together satisfied with your management,' as Camp Streets, and on the site of an old cooper's
strange as it may seem to you, are willing to as- shop, there was in the course of erection a large
sist in building a new house."              stable and circus by Messrs. Dubois & Kendig.
"Threats have no effect on me," said Mr. Taking a look at it, I found that, with certain alCaldwell -" twenty theatres in New Orleans terations which could easily be made, a toleracould not affect the St. Charles a jot."    bly commodious theatre could be formed out of
"If any threats have been made, you have this building. I sought the proprietors, had a
made them," I replied.  "If I come here, which talk with them, and a consultation with a few
I shall not think of doing unless driven by you friends, and before any dinner went into my
from Mobile, which, as I have already said, can mouth that day a contract was made for the
not sustain two theatres, while New Orleans pos- erection of a theatre, of which I was to be the
sibly can, it will not be with the expectation or lessee for five years at $10,000 per year. I took
wish to ' affect the St. Charles'. at all, but simply it in my individual name, not feeling that I had
with the view of repairing the losses at Mobile, a right to involve my partner in the speculation,
if possible, and accumulating something for the he being at the time 1200 miles away, but resupport of my family and the education of my serving for him the right to become joint lessee
children."                                  with me if he should elect to do so, thus making
" Very well," said Mr. C., and            what I call something of a Christian return for
"Very well," said Mr. S.                  his conduct in regard to the Mobile Theatre in
Nothing came of this at the time except the the fall of 1834, when he leased that house on his
sending over Mr. Finn to lecture on astronomy own account, excluding me from a participation
(with illustrations), and Mr. Holland to exhibit, in the business of that season, in violation of an
through a magic lantern, some dissolving views, understanding that we were to join our forces
which speculation not succeeding very well, and and become joint managers.
as I observed no signs of a new theatre.going up,  Next morning the lease was duly executed;
I thought no more of the matter, and felt safe in and this was the way there came to be a new
the prospect of a monopoly in Mobile theatricals American Theatre in New Orleans in 1840.
for some time to come.                        The theatre on Poydras Street, corner of St.
More than a year passed. The season at the Francis Street, New Orleans, I named the NEw
fudged-up theatre in the Orange Grove (the suc- AMERICAN. During the summer a very excelcessor of the Government Street house) of 1839- lent dramatic company was engaged, and a circus
'40 having proved, as I have heretofore said, a company, under John Robinson, besides. The
most disastrous one, it seems my friend Caldwell i parquet seats were so arranged that they could be
thought the time had come when he could strike taken up in a couple of hours, and replaced in
the threatened blow effectively, it being now quite three or four hours; so that, if it was desirable to
certain our crippled condition would not permit exclude the equestrian performances any night,




FANNY FITZWILLIAM AND J. B. BUCKSTONE.


155


no one, on entering the house, would suppose wager of $500 a side, and introduced a supernufrom its appearance that any sawdust had ever merary, with his face blacked, to dance with and
been there. While this theatre was being built, be beaten by that jewel of dancers, which proMr. Caldwell was pushing ahead his new theatre duced a return (I should think) of nearly $2000!
in Mobile, and opened it during that fall. It  The weather has been awful for the past six
gives me no pleasure to write that he never made weeks, and has injured the business at both of
any money there.                          the theatres very much. "Our house" has held


The New American opened for the season on
the 10th of November, 1840, and the receipts on
the first night were $981 25. On the second
night they fell down to $179! The circus company was brought in on the 19th (together with
dramatic entertainments), the receipts on that
occasion being $624. The business was almost
universally good the whole season, particularly
so during the engagement of that charming actress, Mrs. Fanny Fitzwilliam, and that capital
comedian, Mr. Buckstone, who played about fifty nights, the horses being, of course, dispensed
with during their engagement. TIMOUR THE
TARTAR, MAZEPPA, the FORTY THIEVES, EL
HYDER, and CATARACT OF THE GANGES were
the " horse pieces" produced. The great feature
of the circus company was a little boy, adopted
son of our equestrian manager, whose name I
changed from Jimmy Robinson to Juan Hernandez. He was a wonderful child, not over eight
years of age, and could execute the most difficult
and dangerous equestrian feats, besides singing
comic songs and acting children's parts on the
stage.
I mention, as a great error in management,
the engagement of Fogg and Stickney's company
and stud of horses for three months of this season, paying them $9300, which might just as
well have been saved. They attracted not one
person to the house, as I verily believe, and the
expense of keeping an extra stud of useless
horses was a considerahle item in the outlays
from the treasury. A letter of mine to my old
friend Woolf, our sometime leader, I here insert,
to save some writing.
Sol. Smith to E. Woolf.
(Extracts.)
New Orleans, February 7,1841.
In return for your theatrical information from
the East, I must tell you something of the doings
in this region.
The St. Charles has not been doing well this
season, except during the engagement of Power,
and two nights of a brilliant star which burst
out upon the boards of the "temple" of the legitimate, bearing the sparkling name of Dimond,
a nigger dancer, whose benefit was good; and
after that, under the auspices of Barnum, they
got up a humbug dancing-match for a pretended


up its head in all weathers, and breasted the
storms manfully, not having experienced one
failing week; yet our expenses are enormous.
Since I last wrote you, we have added Fogg and
Stickney's equestrian company to ours, at an expense of nearly $1000 per week. We did this
more to prevent their going to the other house
than from any gain we expected to derive from
the arrangement. I took a circus company,
made up of selections from the two troupes, to
Natchez, where they performed seven nights to
a receipt of $1850, which relieved the concern
here of the expense of twenty-three people and
twelve horses for nearly two weeks. The two
equestrian companies are now performing in the
Third Municipality, down by the United States
Mint, but are not " coining money," as the saying is; yet the receipts there lighten the expenses
here, while Mrs. Fanny Fitzwilliam, the " bright
particular" luminary, is cramming the American
every night, and throwing from 900 to 1000 people into fits (of laughter), and causing them to
forget the hard times, short crops, and every
thing else of a disagreeable nature. Isn't she a
darling of an actress?
Mr. Caldwell is playing an engagement at his
own theatre, but with poor success, which I am
sorry for, for he is a fine comedian, and we shall
not soon "look upon his like again."  Mr.
Ranger failed signally at the St. Charles; Buckstone ditto.
Fanny Ellsler has not arranged with any of
the N. O. managers yet, but all accounts agree
she is coming here soon from Havana. She now
asks only $1000 per night! and it is at present
uncertain which establishment is to be ruined by
her. I hope not ours.
If I had not known you, I should have stared
at your getting up " Norma" in so short a time;
but, having witnessed your efforts on former occasions, when we have been in a hurry to produce musical pieces, I shall not wonder at any
thing you may hereafter do in the musical line.
* * *
Commend me to my old friend Thorne. His
quondam partner, Scott, opens the Natchez Theatre to-morrow night-a new one, altered from a
warehouse, or something of the kind. I don't
think he has made much in Vicksburg this season. Mud six feet deep all the time-so he says.




156


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


Wishing you every comfort and all happiness,
which you so well deserve, I am most truly
yours,                       SOL SMITH.
The trip to Natchez mentioned in the above
letter resulted in a positive loss. Performances
under canvas in Lafayette, and in the lower part
of the city, also involved a loss. It actually
rained every night a performance was attempted
out of the theatre!
Among the members of our dramatic company this season were E. S. Conner, leading
actor; Charles Webb, heavy man; Mrs. Farren,
leading actress; Geo. P. Farren, first old man;
Ben De Bar, light comedian and eccentric comedy; Mrs. De Bar, singing business; Mr. and
Mrs. John Green, Mrs. Maynard, Mr. and Mrs.
James Wright, and a great many others of sterling talent. C. H. Mueller was leader of the orchestra, vice Woolf (gone to Burton in Philadelphia), and C. L. Smith scenic artist. I remember a Mr. Sanky, who, if he had lived, would have
become one of the best actors of old men the
American stage ever produced. He made a
great hit in the character of Kecksy, in the IRISH
WIDOW, Mrs. Fitzwilliam performing the title
role. PQor Sanky, at the end of the season, was
persuaded to join a company for the West Indies,
and on the voyage thither, or on his return trip,
he was shipwrecked and drowned.
Ben De Bar was a London actor not long in
this country. He was brought over by Mr. Caldwell in about 1837. In the St. Charles Theatre
he played Mazeppa, doing his own riding up the
"runs," periling his life every night for $18 per
week, and enacting "walking gentlemen" in farces
the same night, which he thought rather tough,
and I have seen the glasses hop and jingle on the
table in a little drinking-house called the "Greenroom," under the effects of certain emphatic
thumps he administered while drinking beer and
uttering his just complaints to his fellow-actors.
De Bar's greatest character, by all odds, at that
time, was Strapado, the drunken corporal. I do
think I have gone to the St. Charles Theatre at
least twenty times to see this truly wonderful
performance, and, moreover, I have no hesitation in saying that if Ben had not grown so fat
and unwieldy, I would go twenty times more to
see him play the same part. From the time he
joined our company he seemed to become a different man. He dressed his characters well,
played them well, and-no more glasses hopped
and jingled in coffee-houses by reason of any
thumps the tables got from Ben.
The good business at the St. Francis (New
American) did not particularly please my old


friend and manager Caldwell, and I don't wonder at it. The fact is, the St. Charles, until the
arrival of Tyrone Power, was almost deserted.
That great actor, whose mantle has never yet
found a wearer, played to very good business for
perhaps twenty-five nights, and then, he being
gone, down fell the houses to almost nothing.
This greatest Irish comedian that ever graced
the American stage was lost on the steam-ship
President.
The St. Charles succeeded in securing Fanny
Ellsler, whose engagement ($3 admission, and
seats sold at auction) was a great success; but
our Fanny (Fitzwilliam) fairly divided the houses
with Fanny the divine, and filled the St. Francis
to overflowing at regular prices.
A detachment of the St. Francis company was
sent to Mobile for the support of Mrs. Fitzwilliam during an engagement at the Swamp Theatre, which she very cheerfully entered into, in
consequence of Mr. Caldwell having failed to accede to what she thought reasonable terms for
performing at his new Mobile Theatre.
About $12,000 of our Mobile debts were paid
out of the proceeds of this season in New Orleans, notwithstanding the enormous expenses
involved in carrying it through.
Another letter to my friend Woolf is all I shall
add relative to the season of 1840-41:
Sol. Smith to E. Woolf.
(Extracts.)
New Orleans, April 15, 1841.
FRIEND WOOLF,-Yours of the 4th instant
is just received, and, to-morrow being set apart
as mourning-day for our good President Harrison-the theatres to be closed-I have an unusual
amount of leisure upon my hands, which I proceed to occupy in answering your "ti-tum-;ti"
epistle. To begin, then, I like those ti-tum-ti
letters of yours vastly. They are written in that
sort of familiar style which smacks with my taste
exactly. What is the use of a roundabout, rigmarole way of expressing one's ideas and sentiments to a friend? Why not write as one
talks? For my own part, I go in for saying
what one has to say in as plain and straightforward a way as possible; and if I have any
"style" in writing, it is the talking style. As
for system in writing, I never had any. Even
when editing a newspaper, many years ago, my
manner was so rambling that it puzzled my
readers at first to find out what I would be at;
but they soon got to liking my queer style, if I
may judge by the great and steady increase of
my subscription-list. It passed for eccentricity,
and that made it all right.
Last week I went to Mobile on business. The




FANNY ELLSLER AND FANNY FITZ.


157


new theatre there (Mr. Caldwell's), from all I
can learn, has not paid its way this season. We
gave it a hard dig in the ribs by taking over
Fanny Fitzwilliam for two weeks, during which
we drew the town up to Orange Grove, where is
situated our magnificent temple. By the way,
speaking of temples, we have dismantled that
unfortunate theatre, the location of which, so
completely out of town, was my partner's selection, not mine, please bear in mind, and rented it
for-oh! ignoble purpose-a cotton warehouse.
Mrs. Fitzwilliam has been seriously indisposed
for three weeks at Natchez, but has just returned to us, and appears on Saturday. Buckstone
plays with her during the ensuing engagement.
Fanny has done immensely here. Her fourth
engagement exceeded either of the other three,
and the Fanny [Ellsler] playing at the St.
Charles at the same time! Speaking of the St.
Charles, that house closed its doors for the season two weeks ago, but was reopened one night
for the benefit of J. M. Field, on which occasion
Ellsler danced the "Smolenski" for him, thus
putting into his pocket over $1000. Glad of it,
for Joe's sake; but it was a singular move her
dancing for him, after all the ridicule he had
been heaping upon her in his " Straws," as well
as in a little piece he wrote and brought out at
the St. Charles, entitled "G-A - G." The
" divine" is now dancing at the Orleans Theatre, but her influence is not felt to the injury of
our theatre up here in the American quarter.
Yesterday part of our company departed for
St. Louis, where the season is to commence immediately. I remain here until the 10th of May,
when up I go too.
I agree with you entirely in opinion regarding
Mrs. Fitzwilliam. She is indeed, as you say, a
charming actress and most amiable woman.
She is a great favorite of mine, I assure you.
I am truly sorry to hear that my old friend
Eliza Petrie "seldom looks pleasant." What
can ail the girl? She must recross the mountains, and try the "great West" and the " sunny South" again. I can not answer your question, "Why don't she marty?" On the contrary, I repeat it, Why don't she? I presume
she has her reasons. I never knew a girl that
hadn't. I know this, and tell it boldly, she has
had offers enough to satisfy any reasonable
woman; but they popped, and popped, and kept
on popping, all to no purpose. She wouldn't
have any of 'em. Her time will come.
Friday morning, April 16.
Half-hour guns are firing; flags are flying at
half mast; crape is being worn on many left
arms; the shops are closed; theatres ditto; in


short, this is mourning-day-by appointment.
Yet here am I with pretty much the same feelings I had yesterday. Can't help it-can't get
up a solemn feeling for the occasion, if I should
die for not doing it. And this want of feeling is
not caused by any want of respect for the memory of the old general. On the contrary, I verily
believe there is not a person in the city who regrets more the loss of President Harrison than I
do. He was for many years a neighbor of mine,
and I am proud (now he is gone) to say he was
a personal friend. But I can't mourn; it isn't
in me. I had the pleasure of taking him by the
hand last summer in Cincinnati, when he was
pleased to thank me for the exertions I had been
making in behalf of his cause in the South.
Those exertions consisted of making two or three
speeches at political meetings in Georgia, when
dragged like a martyr to the stake, in which I
summarily disposed of the charge of Abolitionism
brought against him by his opponents. I was
considered a good witness, having twenty-two
years ago been hotly engaged against him on
that very ground-that is, having written against
him, and succeeded with my single paper in preventing his election, when a candidate for Congress, because of his friendliness to the Southern
"institution" of slavery. But what care you for
all this? I can't mourn.
With kind regards to family, etc., yours very
truly,                       SOL. SMITH.
P.S.-Have you heard lately from the lovely
Eliza Pelling?
CHAPTER II.
THE St. Louis season of 1841 commenced on
the 26th of April, the theatre having been altered so as to admit of equestrian performances in
a ring constructed for the purpose. The first
appearance of the equestrians attracted an audience that paid only $169, and their second but
$41! To the eternal credit of St. Louis, equestrian performances in a theatre were not encouraged at all, and it was found expedient to send
off Robinson and his troupe, "horse, foot, and
dragoons," on a traveling expedition through
Ohio, Kentucky, and Tennessee. In this very
dull time, all expedients failing to attract paying
audiences, a very absurd thing was done in the
engagement of a queer sort of a fellow by the
name of M'Cumber, for the particulars of which
the reader is referred to an article in the Appendix, headed "The Committee on Authors and
Actors."
The Rev. Artemus Bullard, an excellent man,
now no more, felt called upon to preach a ser



158


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


mon on the occasion of the death of President
Harrison, and in that sermon he took occasion
to attack the theatre as an institution in such a
way that I felt a reply was called for. That reply I attempted to make, as follows:
Sol. Smith to the Rev. Mr. Bullard.
REV. SIR,-A pamphlet with a yellow cover,
neatly printed and stitched, was placed in my
hands a day or two ago by a friend, purporting
to be a sermon preached by you " On the Death
of William H. Harrison," our late President.
Being a great admirer of General Harrison,
whom I had the happiness of personally knowing for upward of twenty years, I took the earliest opportunity of perusing the sermon, supposing the public services and private virtues of the
deceased, together with his well-known character
for piety, would be the theme of your discourse.
To say that I was disappointed would but faintly
express the feelings with which I rose from the
perusal of your sermon. Instead of pointing out
the course of the deceased patriot and soldier as
an example worthy to be followed, I find your
talents were employed on that melancholy occasion in attempts to decry the institutions of your
country, the policy of its government, and the
habits of its people. Had your efforts been confined to the pulpit, many persons might have
doubted the policy, on such an occasion, of denouncing, in set terms, our public men, and the
several classes of people composing the community in which you live; yet none, perhaps, would
have been disposed to call you to an account for
the course you thought proper to pursue, respecting, as all do, the highly responsible situation you occupy as minister of an enlightened
congregation of Christians. But, having sent
forth your sermon to the world in print, you
must expect to be guarded by no immunity pertaining to the sacred desk; your work is now
fairly the subject of remark and criticism; and
you must not be surprised, reverend sir, if members of certain professions and classes which
have fallen under your denunciations shall attempt to refute some of the sweeping charges
you have preferred against them.
The PRESS has already found an able champion in the editor of the Republican. Having
been myself connected, in an humble way, with
that branch of our national literature, I could
not but feel highly gratified at the manly course
of Colonel Chambers in relation to the sermon I
have just been reading. Relying on the intimation he has given of his intention farther to pursue the subject, I do not feel called upon to discuss all the various topics which you have step

ped out of your way to animadvert upon. Between you and I, reverend sir, it appears to me,
we are not the most proper persons in the world
to decide upon questions of governmental policy.
Besides, no good could possibly come from such
a discussion-we could never agree. For instance, you disapprove of the purchase of Louisiana and Florida; I have always thought the acquisition of this immense country, securing to us
an outlet to the Gulf of Mexico, of incalculable
advantage to the United States, to say nothing
of the field it opened to the farmer, the mechanic, and professional man. Were it not for
the purchases from France and Spain, ][ believe you and I would never have been heard of;
we should probably have been, at best, but obscure individuals; whereas, the great West being open to us, we have both acquired some notoriety at least, if not popularity. Again, you
do not approve of the " treatment of the Indians
upon our borders," while I have always considered the policy pursued by the government toward them as humane and parental-always excepting the encouragement given to missionaries
to reside among them. The illustrious individual whose funeral sermon you professed to be
preaching went heart and hand with the government in the "treatment" complained of, and had
a greater personal agency in forming treaties with
them, extinguishing their titles to lands-which
you term deluding them into a snare, where they
could be robbed at pleasure-than any other
man. I do not partake in your fears that " a
war with England" would cause the "turning
loose of thousands of abused savages," or have
the effect of "arousing millions in our midst
(meaning our slaves) to throw off their fetters,"
or that "a discussion of what shall or ought to
be done with them (the negroes) may involve us
in a civil war, or dissolve the Union," though I
verily believe that such a result would be far
from disagreeable to certain "brethren" at the
East and North. Finally, while I have always
believed TRUrE RELIGION to be essential to the
happiness (here and hereafter) of every individual in the nation, I have been and am so irreligious as to consider a "national religion"
quite unnecessary.  Entertaining opinions on
these subjects so opposite to yours, a discussion
with you on those points could result in no good.
We should gain nothing, and might lose —our
tempers. Leaving, therefore, political questions
to those who are disposed to discuss them, I proceed to the main object of this letter, which is to
notice four lines of your funeral sermon, which
you have devoted to THEATRES. They are here
quoted:




A LETTER TO A CLERGYMAN.


159


"Our theatres have become too degraded for
any purpose but the exhibition of brute animals
and the most abandoned of the human family,
male and female."
Now, my reverend friend, this is rather a
sweeping charge, for, in effect, it is pronouncing
all persons connected with our theatres to be the
"most abandoned of the human family!" And
I feel called upon, in behalf of my professional
associates, most solemnly to deny the accusation
you have thus made against them as a class.
You ought to know that the " profession" is not
accountable for the actions of individuals attached to it more than you and other good men are
accountable for the peccadilloes of wicked priests.
If our theatres are degraded by the introduction
of " brute animals," the degradation must be attributed rather to the taste of the public than to
the wishes and inclinations of the directors.
In your denunciations against other classes
you have thought proper to make " exceptions,"
but in the instance of theatres, "with one fell
swoop" you denounce its professors as the " most
abandoned of the human family. " How do you arrive at this conclusion? Have you any personal
acquaintance with any ONE of those beings who
nightly " exhibit" themselves in the theatre of
your own city? Have you HEARD any of them
accused of crimes which place them in the lowest
grade of the human race? If there be one of the
ONE HUNDRED employed in the St. Louis Theatre who can be justly charged with any offense
against the welfare of society —with any crime
which would render him or her deserving of being termed the " most degraded of the human
family," or with conduct calculated to bring disrepute upon the dramatic profession, let theproofs
be given, and that individual shall be " cast out"
from the community of players just as surely as
you would " read out" an offending brother from
your church.
In that excellent book which you seem to think
has been " abandoned" by our chief magistrates
for more than thirty years "until this spring,"
there is a sentence something like this: "Judge
not, lest ye be judged." Did you think of this
precept when you gave utterance to the above
sweeping denunciation? Have you visited the
theatre in this city? Have you ever visited a
theatre?  If not-as I shrewdly suspect is the
case-do you consider yourself a proper judge of
the conduct of those against whom you have
passed sentence?  "Let him who is guiltless
cast the first stone!" was the mild sentence of
the Master you profess to serve; but here are
you casting a volley of stones into a community
of individuals who never injured you in word or


deed, without first ascertaining their guilt, and
without reflecting that you, by the very act, may
be offending against his precept.
As I said before, I do not wish to enter into a
discussion with you. I content myself with a
simple denial of the justice of the charge brought
against the " community of players" by you in
your pulpit, which charge you have repeated in
an aggravated form by sending it forth to the
world through the press. If you have any proof
to offer in support of your charge, produce it.
Until such proof be adduced, the conduct of those
you style "the most abandoned of the human
family, male and female," will weigh greatly
against your unsupported assertions. " The tree
is known by its fruits."
Recommending to you the cultivation of more
charitable feelings toward your poor, sinful brethren of the human family, I remain, reverend sir,
your well wisher,           SOL. SMITH.
June 1st, 1841.
[The publication of the above letter elicited
the following remarks from the New Orleans
Picayune:]
"If A letter from Manager Sol Smith appears in the St. Louis Bulletin, in which the worthy humorist defends manfully his profession
from the violent abuse of some ill-advised preacher, who, in pronouncing a sermon upon the death
of the late President, found it necessary to denounce perdition upon a large class of his fellow-beings. Old Sol addresses the reverend gentleman in a strain of caustic but polished reproval, and the style, thoughts, and Christianlike spirit of his letter all present so forcible a
contrast to the fire and brimstone character of
the sermon, that, without close attention, one
would be apt to mistake the preacher for the
player, and the player for the preacher. It is a
sad error theologians fall into in launching these
loose and ill-considered thunder-bolts at the
drama; they betray by it their superficial knowledge of the subject; for, were they aware of how
much mental and moral force can at any moment
be lifted in its defense, and the expanded minds
that are ever ready to support it, they would be
cautious of rushing into so blind a position.
While we see the most enlightened expounders
of the Christian faith' constantly indebted to
Shakspeare for sentiment and moral, it must
surprise us to hear the lesser lights of the pulpit taking in hand the vengeance of the Most
High to hurl at one of the oldest and most firmly rooted institutions ever cherished by civilization."
The fall season was a slight improvement on
that of the spring and summer, the price of admission having been reduced; but still the profits
amounted to but a few hundred dollars, to offset
the loss of as many thousands up to the closing
in the summer. Mr. Hackett played a fair engagement, and Mrs. Farren (as always) had a




160


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


good benefit, which was really the only great
house of the season.
I here insert a couple of letters written to my
musical friend, who had followed the fortunes of
Manager Burton from Philadelphia to NewYork,
and in the latter city shared in the misfortune
which overwhelmed all concerned in the National Theatre, Leonard Street:
Sol. Smith to E. Woolf.
St. Louis, June 25,1841.
Your highly complimentary letter of the 15th
instant is just received. You give me too much
credit for my letter to the parson. It was scribbled off one morning during the bustle of businessg and sent to the publisher without reflection. If I had had the slightest idea of its producing the " sensation" it did here, I should have
composed it with more care. However, it answered the purpose intended —it wakened the
people up a little; and my friend Cady, of the
Bulletin, in which it appeared, sold 350 extra
copies of the paper containing it, as he informed
me. You are not the only one whose good opinion I value that has complimented me on this occasion. The New Orleans Picayune has spoken
in very high terms of the letter, particularly of
its tone. Well, let it go for what it is worth.
"Things go on most execrably here in Syracuse, my Pythias"-or, rather, in St. Louis- in
the theatrical line. We have sustained heavy
losses during the season just closing; and if we
experience no favorable change during our fall
season, the "fortune" every body insists we made
in New Orleans, and every body can't be wrong,
will be soon swept away by the expenses of this
extensive establishment. By-the-by, speaking of
extensive establishments, this is an extensive
country, isn't it? - this America. Englishman
as you are, confess it! We have very clever rivers out here in the West (for a new country), and
first-rate prairies, and pretty large forests, and
some tolerably large farms-is it not so? But,
oh vain boast! * * * *
Fanny Fitzwilliam has brought us up a little
during the present week. She and Buckstone
" go it" together next week, and then we close for
the season. You must notbe very much surprised
if I pop in upon you some July morning in New
York, and frighten all the little Woolves with my
woe-begone countenance.
If it please the Lord to let me out of the vortex of management next year, I intend to establish a newspaper office in which I can employ
my boys, now increased to six, and I hereby bespeak you for a correspondent; therefore hold
yourself disengaged, if you please.


Sunday morning, June 127.
I am sorry for poor Burton-no, -not poor Burton; I beg his pardon. I see by the papers, lie
don't like the adjective " poor" attached to his
name, and I don't blame him. A curse upon the
cold commiseration of the world, say 1. It don't
mean any thing. But when I say poor Burton,
I mean nothing more than an expression of sympathy for him on the occasion of the destruction
of the National Theatre by fire. I hope the
newspapers magnify his losses.
We have a prospect of having Eliza Petrie in
N. 0. next season. The worst of it is that you
Eastern managers give (or promise to give, which,
in effect, is the same thing, so far as making engagements at the South is concerned) such high
salaries that we Western and Southern Managers are obliged to go beyond what our business
is likely to afford, and our Eliza has got tolerably high ideas from the fact that she has been
rated on Burton's salalT-list at a pretty round
figure. At Niblo's she does get a very good salary; but, that establishment aside, I do not conceive there is any Eastern theatre which should
be made a guide for ours, inasmuch as they all
(it appears to me) close whenever it suits the
convenience of the managers, without the least
consideration for their companies, while we go
on sometimes at a loss of thousands. Respects
to Mrs. Woolf and all the little Woolves, and I
remain, etc.,                 SOL. SMITH.
Sol. Smith to E. Woolf.
(Extracts.)
St. Louis, October 21,1841.
The half-price system successful-gained $600
or $700 on the season, in place of losing as many
thousands, as we did in the spring season. We
hear of extensive arrangements by the 11 Emperor," but feel quite confident of being able to
compete successfully with him in New Orleans,
having a good stock company. Weather almost
freezing; thermometer at 40'. 1 can not stay
long here, fever or no feer there. Hackett begins to-morrow night, and closes to-morrow night
week. Then two benefits are to come off, and
then we are to go off, certain.
P. S. -Oh, I had nearly forgotten to tell you
we have got up a most exquisite burlesque opera
called SCHINDER ELLER, or the DOCTOR AND
THE LITTLE DUTCH SLEEPER-words paraphrased from Cinderella by Matt. Field-music
adapted from the opera. It was highly successful here for four nights, and we expect great
things of it in New Orleans, where the scene is
laid, especially if Ellsler goes to the St. Charles
again. She is the Cinderella, and Dr. Stillman,




Sunday morning, June 27.
I am sorry for poor Burton-no, not poor Burton; I beg his pardon. I see by the papers he
don't like the adjective " poor" attached to his
name, and I don't blame him. A curse upon the
cold commiseration of the world, say I. It don't
mean any thing. But when I say poor Burton,
I mean nothing more than an expression of sympathy for him on the occasion of the destruction
of the National Theatre by fire. I hope the
newspapers magnify his losses.
We have a prospect of having Eliza Petrie in
N. O. next season. The worst of it is that you
Eastern managers give (or promise to give, which,
in effect, is the same thing, so far as making engagements at the South is concerned) such high
salaries that we Western and Southern managers are obliged to go beyond what our business
is likely to afford, and our Eliza has got tolerably high ideas from the fact that she has been
rated on Burton's salary-list at a pretty round
figure. At Niblo's she does get a very good salary; but, that establishment aside, I do not conceive there is any Eastern theatre which should
be made a guide for ours, inasmuch as they all
(it appears to me) close whenever it suits the
convenience of the managers, without the least
consideration for their companies, while we go
on sometimes at a loss of thousands. Respects
to Mrs. Woolf and all the little Woolves, and I
remain, etc.,                SOL. SMITH.
Sol. Smith to E. Woolf.
(Extracts.)
St. Louis, October 21,1841.
*    *    *    *    *    *    *
The half-price system successful-gained $600
or $700 on the season, in place of losing as many
thousands, as we did in the spring season. We
hear of extensive arrangements by the "Emperor," but feel quite confident of being able to
compete successfully with him in New Orleans,
having a good stock company. Weather almost
freezing; thermometer at 40~. I can not stay
long here, fever or no fever there. Hackett begins to-morrow night, and closes to-morrow night
week. Then two benefits are to come off, and
then we are to go off, certain.
P.S.-Oh, I had nearly forgotten to tell you
we have got up a most exquisite burlesque opera
called SCHINDER ELLER, or the DOCTOR AND
THE LITTLE DUTCH SLEEPER-words paraphrased from Cinderella by Matt. Field-music
adapted from the opera. It was highly successful here for four nights, and we expect great
things of it in New Orleans, where the scene is
laid, especially if Ellsler goes to the St. Charles
again. She is the Cinderella, and Dr. Stillman,






RIVAL THEATRES IN NEW ORLEANS.


161


the sarsaparilla-man, the Prince. It is very funny. It plays an hour and a quarter-in one act.
VWe have bestowed considerable pains on the getting up of this piece, and some of the "effects"
are ludicrous in the extreme. Only think of
Dr. Mesmer (in place of the Fairy Queen) being
projected out of an alligator's mouth, head foremost, and alighting on his feet in an attitude!
Schinderella comes up standing in a tub of sarsaparilla! Frogs (very large ones, with glistening
eyes, made of any quantity of foil leaf) are seen
swimming in the swamp; steam-boats passing
and repassing in the lake beyond; railroad cars
running down and from the lake, etc., etc. In
the last scene a magical change takes place. The
doctor's laboratory is transformed into the ballroom of the St. Louis Exchange Hotel, and, after the Cracovienne by Eller, a pas de quatre
takes place between two bottles of sarsaparilla
sirup and two boxes of sarsaparilla pills! I take
some credit to myself for the "effects," which
are mostly of my own contriving. * * * *
Yours most truly,      SOL. SMITH.
CHAPTER III.
THE St. Francis opened on the 20th of November, 1841, for its second and last season,
with the comedy of the HEIR AT LAW and the
farce of'TIs SHE. Receipts, $400. The equestrian troupe, "rough and ragged" from their
tour through Ohio, Kentucky, and Tennessee,
joined us, on our way down the river, at Memphis, bringing no replenishment to our exhausted treasury, but, on the contrary, every equestrian had in his pocket lots of " bills receivable,"
signed by our agent, J. P. Baily, for salaries due.
To be plain, the summer expedition of the equestrians had brought us in debt. The rich costumes with which they started out were threadbare and shabby on their return, and instead
of entering the city in procession, as was their
wont in country towns, they were smuggled off
the boat at Lafayette, and quietly marched to
the city during the darkness of night, and directed not to show themselves until refitted and reconstructed. It was a full week before the ambitious riders were allowed to " appear."
We found the St. Charles, on our arrival, "going it" exclusively with circus performances, Mr.
Caldwell having engaged Fogg and Stickney,
with their troupe of equestrians, who were to
perform alternately in New Orleans and Mobile. This move of Mr. Caldwell resulted in a
miserable failure. Equestrianism was at a discount in both cities.
L


Our excellent dramatic company was increased
this season by the return of Miss Petrie, and the
engagement of James Thorne for low comedy,
and we played LONDON ASSURANCE, MONEY,
and other new pieces in a style quite unexceptionable-in every instance getting ahead of the
St. Charles in their early production.
W'e had Mr. Joseph Foster to " get up" showy
pieces, and he got them up in the most extensive
and expensive manner. The NAIAD QUEEN,
NAPOLEON, DICK TURPIN, and other grand
dramas, followed each other in "rapid succession," as the underlinings have it; and, though
the houses were generally good, the profits were
small, owing to the lavish expense bestowed upon
the " getting up" of the great scenic pieces.
Sol. Smith to E. Woolf.
Natchez, Miss., January 2,1842.
DEAR WooLF,-After most sincerely wishing
you and yours a happy New Year, I proceed to
resume my part of the correspondence which has
been happily established between us. "What
the d-1!" you will say, on reading the date of
this letter, "is the old fellow doing up at Natchez?" I'll tell you, my friend. I am up here
with a troop of horse! In plain words, and not
to keep you in suspense, I am here superintending the "fiscal" affairs of our equestrian company, now performing in the city of the tornado.
We engaged Levi North for two weeks at a very
high rate, and thought it would be better that he
should perform half of the engagement here. I
fear we were mistaken. My window looks out
upon our canvas, which is actually covered with
snow!
I suppose you will expect some account of
New Orleans theatricals. Mr. Caldwell, imagining our great success last season was attributable
to the horses, engaged Fogg and Stickney's stud
for the legitimate St. Charles, and actually opened that splendid establishment with equestrian
performances only! In about a month he began to mix in some dramatic pieces, and the
lovers of the "legitimate," who thronged the
temple at'the rate of about 120 a night, were regaled with those finished productions of genius
called farces, after witnessing the wonderful
tricks of the horse "Champion," and listening
to the refined songs (or national anthems) from
a professor of Niggerology, interspersed with the
chaste witticisms of the clown. The dramatic
pieces thus produced were of the highest order,
which you will readily admit when I tell you
that the ever-to-be-remembered comedy of the
RENDEZVOUS headed the list. The BATH ROAD,
or TOM AND ELLEN, had a run, and the TURNPIKE GATE was produced with a new mug and




162


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


first-rate great-coat (with extra capes) for Crack. I of 1842, announced, in good Spanish, that; "los


His LAST LEGS (legs by Gentleman George) followed, and ran through a week. Then came the
Dog-star Bruin, followed by Herr Cline, Master
Wood, and a Swiss family; afterward Hackett,
who drew a $600 house at his opening, played
to $200 audiences during a week, and had $700
at his benefit. All this time the orchestra was
led (?) by Signor Cioffi, a fine musician certainly, and an excellent player of the trombone, but
about as fit to lead an orchestra as the writer
hereof.
The American, finding the "San Carlos" going it so strong on the horses, opened and played
during the first month nothing but the legitimate
- comedy, tragedy, melodrama, OPERA (yes,
you may laugh), and vaudeville were the order
of the day. We sent the equestrians to Lafayette-to the Third Municipality-any where, to
keep them away from the theatre. The copy of
the comedy of LONDON ASSURANCE was received
on a Saturday night. We rehearsed it, had
new scenery and appointments prepared for it,
and produced it in good style the next Sunday
but one, anticipating its production at the St.
Charles, where it had been underlined for a
month. The comedy was eminently successful
with us, being well acted throughout. Farren
played Sir Harcourt most admirably; Mrs. Farren, Lady Gay, most dashingly; Miss Petrie,
Grace Harkaway, most acceptably; Mr. Sanky,
Max Harkaway, most respectably; Mr. Thorne,
Mark Meddle, most excruciatingly, and Ben De
Bar, Dazzle, most unexceptionably. We played
it four nights to increasing audiences, leaving
but three nights for the BARBER (which we had
been rehearsing several weeks) before the commencement of the Ravel family. The St. Charles
played itfive nights to decreasing audiences, and
gave it up, but it was revived at that house at a
later period of the season with much better success and a much better Dazzle-J. S. Browne.
*    *    *    *     *    *   *
We have some idea of taking our equestrians
to Havana. They are a dead weight to us here.
Ever truly yours,  SOL. SMITH.
We went to Havana, the horses, equestrians,
my son Mark, and I, and here is what came of it:
Don Hemit in Havana.
To insure a proper understanding of this
sketch, it is necessary to explain that the uncommon name of " Smith" is pronounced by the
Spaniards "Hemit."  Bills posted at the corners of the streets in Havana, during the winter


Cirque Olympique Americano" Would open on
such a night, by permission of the Captain General of Cuba, etc. It fell to my lot to go over to
the Spanish island as " impressario" of a circus
company, consisting of Levi North, Otto iMotty,
Young Juan Hernandez, John Robinson, Eaton
Stone, Dennis ditto, and about twenty others of
less note, together with a host of grooms, and
something like forty horses. Instead of realizing a profit of $10,000, as we expected, we were
obliged to submit to a loss of about $4000. But
that is all over, and it is not my intention to
dwell upon a subject so disagreeable to remember.
After the usual difficulties of custom-house inspections and examinations, we effected a landing-" horse, foot, and dragoons." In transacting business with the commercial house to whom
we were consigned, I found that the name of Sol
Smith had become changed to DON SOL HE-IT,
in which style I was addressed, while on the island, by all who had occasion to transact business with the concern.
The first thing that strikes an American on
arriving at Havana is the great difference between a free and a despotic government. It appears a little strange to a republican to meet a
soldier under arms and on duty at every corner
and at every crossing. If you visit a theatre,
you see one of these interesting gentlemen stationed at the entrance of each box! They are
quite inoffensive, however, and in a day or two
they cease to annoy you; you pass them as you
would so many posts.
The grand entrances of the private dwellings
in the city serve for the ingress and egress of
the family, servants, horses, and carriages! One
morning, while a large party were at breakfast
in our boarding-house, a splendid stud-horse was
brought in by a groom and paraded around the
table for the inspection of General Harney, who
wished to purchase an animal of the kind.
It is the duty of the keepers of boarding-houses
and taverns to report to the government every
person they entertain and lodge each night, and
they are accountable to the treasury of Queen
Isabel the Second for the sum of fifty-two dollars
for every one that dies in their houses. Whenever a foreigner leaves the island he is obliged to
obtain a certificate from the dead office that he is
alive, another from the custom-house that he is
clear of its books, and yet another from the Captain of Partida (I think that is his title) that he
owes no debts!
On the opening night of the " Cirque Olympique," a company of twenty soldiers, under the




EQUESTRIAN EXPEDITION TO HAVANA.


163


command of a sergeant, marched up to the boxoffice, and reported to Don Hemit that they came
by command of the alcalde of the quarter to preserve order in the house, and to guard the box
of the governor, for which service the sergeant
intimated, through an interpreter, that he expected a gratification from Don Hemit. In reply, I directed the interpreter to say to the sergeant that there was no occasion for his or his
soldiers' services; and that, if the governor's box
required guarding, they were welcome to guard
it, but not at my expense; and that, so far from
gratifying them (which the reader ought to be
informed meant making them a present of an
ounce of gold), it would afford me, Don Hemit, a
great gratification if they would march back to
their quarters, and keep out of my sight for the
remainder of their natural lives. The worthy
sergeant touched his cap with the back of his
hand by way of salute, wheeled his command to
the right about, and marched off. After the departure of the soldiery, two ministers presented
themselves, and demanded a gratification of a
quarter of an ounce each for sitting each side
of the alcalde's box, and this imposition I was
obliged to submit to every night of performance.
The contract with Otto Motty, the man that
plays with cannon balls, was to the effect that
he was to perform four weeks in the island of
Cuba, and receive for his services $1000. At
the end of our second week I found that it would
be policy to cut off the last week of our season, and by that means save about $1500. As
a compromise with Motty, I proposed to pay
him $750 for the three fourths of the time
agreed on, and $250 on our return to New Orleans, where he should perform the other week.
This he agreed to; but, after all arrangements
were made to close up the disastrous season, and
leave the island in the steam packet, he concluded to act the rascal, and demand the full
amount of his bond. He accordingly filed his
claim of $500 with the proper authorities, and
the passport of Don Hemit was stopped! Here
was a dilemma. I had procured (by the help
of sundry ounces of gold) passports for the whole
company and stud of horses, but Don Hemit
was ordered not to depart the island until the
demand of the thrower of the cannon balls was
fully satisfied. It was the night previous to the
day of our intended departure that the decree of
the governor was communicated to me. What
could I do? Obtaining a hearing of the case
was out of the question, it appeared; and, even
if the matter could be brought to adjudication, I
had no proof of the compromise I had made with
the Dutch Jew, the evidence of my son and clerk


(who heard the new agreement) being excluded
by the Spanish law, while he had our original
contract which called for the fulfillment of its
provisions in Cuba. At last, after much reflection, it occurred to me that if I should bring a
suit against him, I could at least obtain an immediate hearing of the case, and possibly I might
so mix matters up before the alcalde that the
judgment might work a release of the prohibition to quit the island. I sought out a minister,
and placing half an ounce of gold in his hand,
desired him to arrest Otto Motty at the suit of
Don Hemit for breach of contract, etc. In
about a quarter of an hour the defendant was in
the presence of the alcalde, whose attendance at
that late hour was secured by means of an ounce
sent into his private room by the minister whose
services I had secured as above stated, and the
trial began. And oh! such a trial! The lawyers, parties, and spectators all kept their seats
while they made their statements. Otto Motty
insisted upon his bond, and demanded $500 of
Don Hemit (he had received $500, and there
was really $250 due), while I demanded that he
should go to New Orleans and perform a week
before he should be entitled to the full amount
which we had agreed to pay him. We sat and
jabbered there about an hour, when, looking up,
I discovered that the alcalde had left tfte room!
My friendly minister informed me, on inquiry,
that the worthy magistrate had gone to supper.
Quietly slipping an ounce into the minister's hand,
I desired that disinterested functionary to pass it
in to the alcalde, with my compliments, and ask
him if he was ready to decide the case. The
minister returned almost immediately, and reported that the alcalde had decided that we must
arbitrate the matter in dispute on these conditions: Don Hemit could not compel Otto Motty
to leave the Spanish dominions, and Otto Motty
could not compel Don Hemit to pay him for services which he had not rendered. The clerk instantly recorded this decision, or whatever it may
be called, and I was informed that by paying
$250 into the court I should satisfy the judgment, and be entitled to my passport. " Here
is the money," said I, in high spirits at the result. "I shall not take it," indignantly replied
old Motty: "I shall have my tousand dollars."
"No you won't, old fellow," said I; "here is
the decree of court." "But," pleaded the Dutchman, " I will go with you to Orleans and play
the other week, as you proposed, and get the
other $250." "Oh no," was my answer; "the
judgment of this court is final: here is your
money; take it, and be thankful." A question
here arose about the costs. The clerk and min



164


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


isters said Don Hemit must pay them, as the             Sol. Smith to E. Woolf.
judgment was against him. I turned to Otto                    New Orleans, March 12,1842.
Motty and said, "You must pay these costs."   FRIEND WOOLF,-I have been back to my
Of course he declined; so I called to my minis- own native soil nearly two weeks, and take
ter to bring me a fee bill, which I found amount- some shame to myself for neglecting to reply to
ed to just two ounces ($32). I then asked for a your last valued epistle. I may as well confess
bit of paper, and wrote as follows:         the truth, which is this: I had inadvertently perDon Otto totty-                            mitted my mustaches to grow to such an enorTo Don Sol. Hemit, Dr.  mous length while on the island of Cuba, that,
For transporting cannon balls from ship     when returned to the States, I found I could
to the Cirque Olympique, and thenceeak and write nothing but Spanish! I deemto the Plaza de Toros, several times.. $32 00 ed it would be a useless shedding of ink to write
ed it would be a useless shedding of ink to write


Handing this to the minister, I told him to arrest Mr. Motty. and stop his passports. In a
moment the man of cannon balls saw the predicament he was in, and agreed to pay the bill without farther question.
Next day, at five o'clock P.M., all things were
on board the good steamer Alabama, and we
were ready for a start. Just as I was stepping
on board the small craft which was to carry us
to the ship, Otto Motty was seen hurrying down
past the custom-house with a cigar in his mouth,
and his passport, which he had with great difficulty obtained, in his hand. He spoke to some
one of our party, and observed that he feared being too late. "Too late for what?" I inquired.
"Too late for the steam-boat," he answered. I
here conmmenced whispering with the circus people, pointing occasionally to Otto Motty, who
was in a small boat alongside of us during our
row out into the harbor. We entered the steamer at the same time, and Robinson (the equestrian manager) took Otto Motty mysteriously
aside and whispered in his ear, "Beware!"
The same warning was whispered by other members of the equestrian corps in various tones.
Otto Motty at last ventured to inquire of one
what he was to "beware" of.   He was then
gradually let into the secret that it was the intention of Don Hemit to throw him overboard
during the voyage, with his cannon balls attached to his feet as sinkers! At first he was incredulous, but all the circus people assuring him
in the most solemn manner that there was no
mistake about it, he at length determined that
he would not risk his life in the same ship with
me. The last I saw of him, he and his cannon
balls were in a small boat making their way toward the shore, while we were in our magnificent steamer, leaving the beautiful and unequaled harbor of Havana, and passing the frowning
Moro Castle.
Arrived at New Orleans, I shaved off my
whiskers and mustaches of a month's growth,
and abjured forever the cognomen of DON
HEMIT!


you until I had parted with the aforesaid. They
came off yesterday evening about gun-fire. So
here I am again, restored to my vernacular, and
ready to inflict three pages of scandal, or whatever else my pen may happen to run into.
You will no doubt expect a full and explicit
description of Havana and the whole island of
Cuba-its customs, amusements, etc. It is but
a reasonable expectation, and I proceed to give
it in as concise a way as I know how:
DESCRIPTION OF THE ISLAND OF CUBA.
Cuba is a Spanish island, governed by military
people, 25,000 of whom favor the country with
their presence.  The inhabitants eat, sleep,
smoke, and ride in volantes drawn by horses a
good way ahead, with tails braided and hitched
to the saddle-bows, which horses are ridden by
black men dressed in livery, with jack-boots and
long spurs. The amusements of the people consist of the opera, Spanish plays badly acted, bullbaiting, and cock-fighting.
END OF THE DESCRIPTION OF THE ISLAND OF
CUBA.
We lost about $4000 by the expedition, and
you may be sure your humble servant will not be
in a hurry to repeat his visit to the " Queen of
the Antilles."
The opera from Havana is in full blast at the
St. Charles. The houses are pretty good, but the
expenses must be enormous, and above the receipts. Our business is tolerable only -Mrs.
Fitzwilliam and Buckstone, the reigning stars at
present, as great favorites as ever. The St.
Charles closes next Friday. We shall endeavor
to keep open till May, but may not be able to do
so. The banks are all bursting up! * * *
Tuesday morning, March 15.
The St. Charles Theatre and Arcade Baths
were burned to the ground on Sunday night last!
You will hear of this a day or two before this
reaches you, but I could not send a letter without
mentioning an event of such magnitude-an event
deplored by every one, and, I think, by none




BURNING OF THE OLD ST. CHARLES THEATRE.


1;65


more than the writer. The Gas Company lose
$30,000 only, it is said, the balance being insured. They had purchased the building (taken
it for debt) a short time before the fire. I have
this from Dr. Rogers, superintendent of the Gas
Works. Mr. Caldwell's loss (unless he is insured)
is the wardrobe, scenery, and properties-probably $20,000. We offered the sufferers by the fire
a free benefit, but it was promptly declined by
Mr. Caldwell, he being, as he says, the only sufferer. The Opera Company applied for three
nights in the week at our house, but, our nights
for the three coming weeks being engaged, we
were obliged to decline accommodating them.
Fortunately for Signor Marty and his company,
they kept their wardrobe out of the theatre, and
thus saved it all. * * *
Yours most truly,     SOL. SMITH.
I remember that, on the occasion of the burning of Mr. Wallack's theatre in New York, Mr.
Simpson, manager of the Park Theatre, offered a
benefit to the sufferers, to which offer Mr. Wallack returned a curt reply, declining. I give
here the correspondence which took place between the managers of the surviving theatre (not
long to survive) and the burned-out manager:
"American Theatre, New Orleans,)
March 14,1842. f
"JAMES H. CALDWELL, ESQ.: SIR, -.We respectfully tender a free benefit at this house to
the sufferers by last night's calamity. If acceptable, we propose to devote Friday or Saturday
next to the proposed benefit, and to pay the
proceeds, without any deduction whatever, into
your hands for distribution to the sufferers.
"Very truly yours."
(Signed by the managers.)
Answer of Mr. Caldwell.
"New Orleans, March 14,1842.
" GENTLEMEN,-I know of no sufferers by the
calamity of last night except myself. I have not
heard of any. No one has said to me, ' I am a
sufferer.'
"If, therefore, your offer of a benefit without
any deduction whatever was intended for me, I
most respectfully decline it.
"Yours respectfully,
" JAMES H. CALDWELL. "
The old American Theatre, Camp Street, had
a short time previously been destroyed by fire,
leaving, however, the walls standing, and they
were made available in the erection of an auction
mart, with a concert-room in the upper story;
so that was the end of the " old Camp," as we
used to call it. It has never since, to my knowledge, been occupied as a theatre.
Mrs. Fitzwilliam and Mr. Buckstone returned
this season, and played two fine engagements,
producing during the second one an original
piece (monopolylogue it was called) entitled the


SNAPPING TURTLE, from the pen of Buckstone,
written in this country. This piece, in which
the talented Fanny Fitz played a great many
characters-an American Fireman for one-was
very successful, both in this country and (afterward) in England. Mrs. Fitzwilliam's greatest
effort was in the capital burletta, written for her,
entitled WIDOW WIGGINS. Mr. Buckstone, now
manager of the Haymarket, London, is probably
the most prolific writer of the age. It is said he
is the author of over two hundred successful dramatic pieces. His acting is a treat to see. In
1859 I saw him play Major de Boots, in the comedy of EVERY BODY'S FRIEND, twice, and it is
my belief that no living actor can approach him
in that character.
Between the two engagements of the last
above-named artists, they went to Mobile for a
few nights to fulfill an engagement with Mr.
Caldwell in his new theatre there.
Before giving a letter from Mr. Buckstone,
briefly mentioning a tragic occurrence in the
Mobile Theatre, I will state that the Miss Hamblin heretofore mentioned had been married to a
Mr. Ewing, and they were this season members
of the Mobile company.
J. B. Buckstone to Sol. Smith.
"Mobile, Saturday morning.
"MY DEAR SOL,-We -are all hors du combat
here. Our theatre was the scene of a terrible affair last night-the murder of one of the actors,
a Mr. Ewing, who was acting with us in MY OLD
WOMAN the part of Colonel Girouette. After the
first act, a Miss Hamblin, also performing in the
same piece (Victor, the page), went into the
dressing-room and stabbed the young man. Of
course we were obliged to dismiss the audience.
* * *    Truly yours,   J. B. BUCKSTONE."
Strange as it may appear, this woman was
cleared by a jury, under a charge from the judge
who presided at the trial to the effect that he
might have died from a disease of the heart,
with which he was afflicted, if he had not been
stabbed!
The divine Fanny (Ellsler) did not return to
New Orleans this season as expected, so our
Fanny (Fitzwilliam) had every thing her own
way, as the saying is.
The Chevalier Wyckoff attended to Fanny
Ellsler's business matters. They visited Havana, and, not being able to come to terms with
Don Marty, Fanny rented the theatre Tacon
from the old Don, and managed it to suit herself. The following letter from her agent to
Mr. M. Field, one of the editors of the Picayune,
will explain why the " divine" did not come to
New Orleans this season, besides giving a description of an " ovation" which she quite unex



166


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


pectedly (of course!) received on the last night
of her performance in the Tacon, and which the
veritable Wyckoff styles a "theatrical solemnity!"
Henry Wyckoff to M. Field.
"Havana, April 29,1842.
"MR. FIELD: MY DEAR SIR,-I am greatly
obliged to you for your polite letter, and reply to
it in a great hurry, chiefly with a view to give
you some intelligence that I fear will not be
agreeable to an honest enthusiast, as I believe
you to be, of the dance.
"It is quite clear and decided that Mlle. Ellsler will not go to New Orleans this year, and I
may say it is therefore improbable she will ever
go; and principally for these reasons she waives
all intention of going now:
"The St. Charles has burned down, and the
French Theatre has closed, consequently she is
perfectly free of all engagements and compromise.
"The season is very far advanced, and she
would be incapable of supporting in the small
American Theatre the great heat of the climate.
" She has received lately the most magnificent
offers from Mexico, and she is at this moment
hesitating whether to go there or return to Europe direct from here. She will certainly do
one thing or the other. She feels some objections to encountering all the dangers that assail the travelers in Mexico-first, the yellow
fever at Vera Cruz, and next, the robbers on the
road, together with the length and badness of
the way and conveyances to the capital.
"Should she go, the results will doubtless be
brilliant. She would like, she says, out of pure
gratitude, to visit New Orleans, and again thank
them for the enthusiastic kindness to her last
year. She remembers it well, and never will
cease to cherish a grateful recollection, in no
matter what part of the world she goes.
"I would like to tell you something of her
last adieu to Havana, a few nights ago. It was
certainly the most imposing and affecting solemnity eye ever witnessed. After dancing with infinite grace and effect the island dance of ' Sapateado,' suddenly, without her knowing it, the
whole decorations changed, representing Olympus. A person dressed to represent America
came toward her; Terpsichore advanced with a
wreath of white on the other side; the three
Graces danced around her. Fanny was for a
moment bewildered. A fine band of military
music struck up at the same moment, and a
choir of thirty persons concealed above chanted
an ode in her praise. The effect on the house
was overwhelming; but Fanny's exquisite behavior heightened it a hundred fold. She seized
America (Madame Martin) in her arms, and lavished a thousand caresses on her, then put America's hand on her heart, who nodded to the sympathizing thousands that it beat loudly and fast.
She knelt while a crown of grace was put on her
head, and the stage resplendent with light of
white and red that had lit up in all the wings.
It was a sight worth seeing, and long to be recollected.
" In a hurry, yours truly,  H. WYCKOFF."


There! If that can be beat by the paid puffers who accompany female stars of the present
day, let us see it done, that's all. America
" nodding" to the sympathizing thousands that
Fanny's heart "beat loudly and fast," is decidedly good. The "white and red fire" could be excelled by the calcium light now in vogue to light
up ballet-dancers with; but there is no such
puffer now extant as the chevalier who wrote
the above, and.for publication, remember, doubtless without Fanny's "knowing it" any more than
she knew of the sudden "change of decorations"
in the " solemnity," or of the "thirty concealed
choristers" who sung the "ode in her praise."
This season in Mobile, where the tragedy occurred, his second, was a very unprofitable one,
and the last Mr. Caldwell ever made there. He
next season rented the theatre to a Mr. Dumas,
keeper of a restaurant, who, under the management of Mr. Hodges, cooked up the drama in various styles-boiled, fried, roasted, broiled, or on
the half shell-involving a loss of whatever ready
money he may have been possessed of-in fact,
breaking him up. On invitation, I played a week's
engagement with this new manager, and had a
full and fashionable house on my benefit night,
which was a stormy one.
But let me not wander. The season of the
New American closed at the usual time, and here
was an end of the engagement with the equestrians, thank goodness. They were a good set of
fellows, and their manager, Robinson, was a
trump; but I always had a prejudice against taking horses into a theatre. Robinson has become
a wealthy man, and resides in Cincinnati, Olhio,
where I had the pleasure of meeting him a year
or two ago.
Our season, burdened with the losses at Iavana, was a little short of a paying one, and we
were obliged to leave $2400 of the rent unpaid,
for which sum judgment was confessed in one of
the District Courts, with stay of execution, with
the understanding that we were not required to
pay it until the following January. I only mention this fact here because, as will be seen, it influenced events to follow. We had, in the two
seasons, accumulated a fine stock of scenery and
properties, all of which, with the theatre containing it, was burned on the 30th of July following,
leaving the English drama without a home in
New Orleans. I was at Barnum's Hotel, in Baltimore, on my way to New York, when I heard
of this last conflagration. Arrived in New York,
I soon had letters assuring me Dubois & Kendig
were going to rebuild immediately, they being
fully insured, and that I could safely go on mak

ing the arrangements for the winter season, as




A DEPRECIATED CURRENCY.


1(;7


we should certainly have the new house. These
assurances were made by Mr. Dubois at St. Louis.
W'hat his partner, Kendig, was doing in New Orleans will presently appear.
The St. Louis season of 1842 was a miserable
one. The first night's receipts barely reached
$200, and those of the closing night to only
$75 75. Mrs. Sefton (now Mrs. Wallack) and
E. S. Conner played a tolerable engagement, and
Mr. J. 11. Kirby a very poor one. Martin Van
Buren, on his visit to the house, though well advertised, only drew $477 50. And the worst
of all was, Corporation currency, worth but sixty,
fifty, and forty cents on the dollar, was the only
money (?) in circulation. This Corporation currency was the stepping-stone to the fortunes of
several rich citizens I could name. Thus: they
managed to sink its value to the lowest point it
would go, to wit, forty cents on a dollar, and
then, through brokers, bought it all up! As
soon as they got possession of the whole, some
hundreds of thousands, they began to run it up,
but would sell none, and very soon managed
matters so that they induced the City Council to
issue bonds bearing ten per cent. interest, which
were ultimately paid in coin. I shall not mention the names of the lucky capitalists. Some
are dead, and some are living. One of them, it
is said, is going to give all he made in this way
back to the city, and more too. Just look at
the operation and its results. With $40,000 a
purchase is made of $100,000 worth of the currency, which is funded, the bonds bearing ten
per cent., payable in coin, which can be sold the
instant they are received at par, giving a profit
of $60,000, or 150 per cent. upon the $40,000
invested. Rather a nice operation for the capitalists, but a little hard on the mechanics and
tradesmen who had to take the currency at par
for their labor and goods, and sell it at 60 per
cent. off its face.
It was about this time, I think, that the twenty
acres of land in the St. Louis City Commons,
which I acquired in 1836, for which I paid a
bonus of $1200, and on which I had paid the
yearly interest (as rent) for five years, became
forfeited to the city in consequence of my inability to pay the small sum of about $200, one of
the required yearly payments! I made up my
mind all would have to go, and this amtng the
rest. Could I have held on to this property until now, paying the yearly interest, or purchasing
the fee-simple title at about $4000, which I had
at any time the right to do, I should be at this
time a tolerably rich man.
Soon after the forfeiture of the twenty acresin fact, the very day the forfeited lands were re

sold (mine and others)-I ventured to bid off a
small lot of four and a half acres away out in the
woods, adjoining what is now Lafayette Park.
I think the price of this was $350 an acre, the
purchaser paying five per cent. interest on the
amount for which it was bid off for ninety-nine
years, renewable forever, with the privilege of
purchasing at any time, and thus becoming the
possessor of the fee-simple title. The following
year a Board of Commissioners was appointed to
" graduate" the price at which the purchase of
common lands could be made. The price of my
lot was " graduated" down to $130 per acre, and
at that price I purchased it, managing to make
the first cash payment, and giving my notes for
the deferred payments. I have told you the result of my first speculation in city common lands;
at the proper time I propose to tell you how I
came out with this.
For reasons which will soon appear, the company stopped at Vicksburg during the month of
December, and made a season of three weeks.
The receipts were too small to appear in so large
a book as this-too large the book is likely to be,
by-the-by, unless I hurry on and give the balance
of my trials with less detail in relating them than
has characterized the foregoing pages, though
really, it seems to me, I but skim along upon
the surface of things, leaving hundreds of events
unrelated that ought to be interesting, if any
narrative of this kind can be made so, which I
doubt. Well, I'll say nothing about this Vicksburg season except that Iwas not there. Where
I was at the time I now proceed to mention.
CHAPTER IV.
Mr. CALDWELL had endeavored to raise means
for rebuilding the splendid St. Charles, and failed. Dubois and Kendig commenced rebuilding
the American very shortly after its destruction.
In September or October, an agent of theirs went
to St. Louis and informed us that the house was
nearly covered in, and advised that we should
begin to prepare the scenery for it, which we accordingly did. The agent had not been long returned to New Orleans before reports came that
the American had been rented to Mr. Caldwell!
Mr. Dubois, who was in St. Louis, stoutly denied the truth of this report, and said there was
no doubt about our going on with our lease, as'
if no fire had happened. I resolved to go to
New Orleans at once. Dubois said he would go
with me, and we went down on the same boat.
Arrived in the Crescent City (on the 20th of October), my worst fears were realized; Mr. Cald



168


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


well was in possession of the new theatre sure
enough, and was preparing scenery and decorations for an early opening. Upon consultation
with friends, I found there existed a general desire that we should not "give it up so," but that
another new theatre should be built, and that immediately. On the 21st I wrote the following
statement, which appeared in the Picayune of
the next day:
"THE AMERICAN THEATRE.
" 'Where the offense is, let the great ae fall.'
"We have never obtruded our private affairs
upon the attention of the New Orleans public.
An excuse for making the following statement,
it is believed, may be found in the fact that we
have been connected, in the responsible capacity
of managers, with a public institution which has
been sustained and fostered by our ' resident population,' as well as by the numerous residents
of other parts of our country, who pass a part
or the whole of the winter in this southern emporium, and in the other fact that by no fault
of ours our connection with that institution has
ceased.
" We have no wish to excite sympathy. Since
1837, blow after blow has fallen heavily upon us.
We have been constrained to abandon one of
our strong-holds (Mobile) for want of means to
compete with a powerful professional contemporary, who, 'with appliances and means to
boot,' has for many years aspired to control the
destinies of the Drama in the entire South and
West. In St. Louis we were enabled to maintain our position, the stockholders having refused to listen to his propositions for a lease of
their splendid temple.
"We came to New Orleans as to a place of refuge. Although it appeared plain to us that we
could not compete successfully with the theatre
then building in Mobile by Mr. Caldwell-our
last theatre in that city being in a comparatively bad location-we thought that here two theatres might be sustained. We opened the American. To the threats of our contemporary that
he would shut us up in a month we made no answer; his sneers at our humble temple, which
he endowed with the classical appellations of a
'dog-pit' and a 'shanty,' we heeded not; his
statements in the public newspapers that 'the
expenses of his orchestra alone exceeded those
of our whole establishment,' we noticed not,
though, at the time that statement was made,
our orchestra contained ten more musicians than
his, and our dramatic company was superior to
his, both in number and talent, to say nothing
of two equestrian companies which were attached
to our establishment, and which certainly did
not lessen our expenses. We pursued the 'even
tenor of our way,' satisfied that our exertions
were appreciated by the public and munificently rewarded. Affairs are changed; both theatres have been destroyed by fire. One (the ' Little American') is being rebuilt, and as the time
approaches when we expected to resume our
professional operations, we find our ' shanty' in
possession of James H. Caldwell! And that is


not all; he has managed, hard as the times are,
to find means to purchase a judgment, which lie
holds in terrorem over our heads! We repeat,
we do not wish to excite sympathy; we trust
we have sufficient energy remaining to enable
us to rise even from this last blow. We shall at
least make the attempt.
" STATEMENT.
"On the 14th of January, 1841, we leased of
Messrs. Dubois and Kendig, for the term of five
years, computing from the 1st of July, 1840, all
and singular that portion of ground situated on
Poydras Street, in the second municipality of
this city, which was leased by Dubois and Kendig from George Morgan and others, by an act
passed before H. B. Cenas, a notary public in this
city, on the 4th of May, 1840, together with all
the buildings and improvements thereon, known
as the American Theatre.
"A clause in the lease provides that, 'in case
of the destruction of the said premises by fire or
otherwise, the rent shall cease and be no longer payable.'
" In virtue of this agreement of lease, we occupied the premises two seasons. On the 30th of
July last the premises was set on fire by an incendiary, and burned to the ground, together
with all our theatrical property in New Orleans,
consisting of scenery, furniture, machinery, gas
fittings, and properties of every description pertaining to a well-regulated theatre, and which
cost over twelve thousand dollars. We were
the only parties interested, who were utterly
uninsured. When the intelligence of the destruction of the theatre reached St. Louis, one
of our firm was in New York making engagements for the ensuing winter campaign; the other immediately communicated with Mr. Dubois,
then at St. Louis, and it was distinctly agreed
between them that if the theatre could be rebuilt with the insurance money, a contract
would be made to that effect immediately, and
we were to continue to occupy it until the close
of the term of our lease. Neither party being
in possession of a copy of the lease, neither was
certain what stipulation it contained in regard
to the contingency which had occurred; but
Mr. D. observed that, whatever the stipulation
might be, they should feel themselves morally
bound to rebuild, if they had the ability so to
do, and he considered we were morally bound to
go to work with our occupancy; and Mr. Dubois departed for New Orleans. On his return
he said he had not made himself acquainted with
the 'stipulations in the lease,' considering it
quite unnecessary to do so, as the rebuilding
was contracted for, and we were to have the
theatre as a matter of course. He said an applicatiosi had been made, immediately after the burning, for a lease of the American, should it be rebuilt; but he laughed at the idea of any one
supposing it could be taken out of our hands,
after the great loss we had sustained. It being clearly and distinctly understood that the
lease was to be held good by both parties, the
partner in New York was so advised, and, placing implicit confidence in the honor of our old
friend Dubois, we felt no uneasiness on the sub



BUILDING OF THE "NEW ST. CHARLES."


169


ject. The theatre was to be ours beyond a
doubt.
"On the strength of this understanding, and
without a suspicion of bad faith any where, we
proceeded to make our arrangements for the
ensuing winter-engaged performers, orchestra,
artists, and machinists-commenced preparing
scenery and fixtures-applied for gas fittings,
and expected to commence business in the new
house about the 20th of November.
"On the 24th of September the Commercial
Bulletin contained the following editorial article, founded, as we have since learned, upon information furnished by Mr. James H. Caldwell himself:
" 'We hear that Mr. Caldwell has leased the
American Theatre, Poydras Street. There was
a clause in the late lease by which it was stipulated that, in case the building was burned, the
lease should end.'
"This article was republished, in substance,
by nearly all the city papers, and in the papers
of the Eastern cities, much to our injury, as we
believe-though we most cheerfully acquit the
Bulletin of any intention to injure us-holding
out to professional people at the East who might
be engaged to come to us the supposition that
we should have no theatre at which to receive
them. Seeing this paragraph in the newspapers,
we had another interview with Mr. Dubois, and
he assured us he knew of no such proceeding as
the one spoken of, and placed no reliance whatever
on the report.
"A confidential clerk of Messrs. Dubois &
Kendig had been to St. Louis a few days previous to the above paragraph meeting our eye.
He had two or three interviews with us, and did
not say a word about any intention to lease the
theatre to Mr. Caldwell or any one else. On the
contrary, our conversation was exclusively confined to the progress of the new building; the
preparations we were making to carry down
scenery from St. Louis; the necessity of one of
us proceeding to New Orleans in the course of
a few weeks; and, finally, he promised to write
us immediately on his arrival, and advise us of
the state of the building, and when it would be
necessary for us to commence work on the stage
and machinery. Mr. Dubois informed us that
the clerk had visited him for the purpose of raising means to go on with the building, in case
one of the insurance companies should fail, as he
feared it would, to meet the payments which
would be due the contractor. He added that he
had given the clerk authority to raise means
from his personal friends, if they could be so
raised, and if those means failed and the insurance company did not come up to the mark,
he feared the building must stop, but said not
a word about transferring the house into other
hands.
i" On the 9th of the present month we received
intelligence that the new building had certainly
been leased for our unexpired term to Mr. James
H. Caldwell, and that he had obtained control
over a judgment for $2418, which we had confessed in favor of Dubois & Kendig for a balance due on last year's rent. In short, we re

ceived the assurance that we had been ' headed'
by Mr. Caldwell, trifled with by Mr. Kendig (for
to this day we sincerely believe Mr. Dubois was
no party to the transaction, and knew not of it;
he assured us so himself), and our company, orchestra, artists, machinists, and all others who
had formed engagements with us for the coming
season, numbering nearly one hundred persons,
were thrown on our hands, and we without a
place to employ them in!
" One of us is here, and, to save the time and
trouble of answering questions-for there does
appear to be considerable curiosity to know the
particulars of a transaction by which we have
been thrust out of the American Theatre-this
statement is thus publicly put forth. The community may think we have received ill treatment; indeed, we believe there will be but one
opinion on the subject. We shall not occupy
our time in useless complainings, but act. If
our courts will afford a remedy for the injuries
we have sustained, they may be appealed to,
when leisure will permit us to 'wait the law's
delay;' at present a new theatre must be prepared for the reception of our company. We
shall exert every faculty and use every honorable means to resume the position from which
we have been ejected by incendiarism, intrigue,
and treachery. Notwithstanding the untoward
circumstances in which we are temporarily
placed, we confidently expect to be able to fulfill
every engagement made for the ensuing winter.
" [Signed in the name of the firm.]
"New Orleans, October 22,1842."
I made short work of building the new theatre, and shall make shorter work in relating how
it was built. The site selected was that of the
old St. Charles, on St. Charles Street. The
ground was rented of the Gas Bank, and from
that institution a portion of the means were procured to pay the workmen as the building progressed; but I here assert as a fact undeniable,
that, without the efficient aid of Messrs. F. D.
Gott, J. R. Pike, and Jamison & Mackintosh,
the house could not have been built. Their
kindness can never be forgotten. Another firm
friend on this occasion was Patrick Irwin, an
Irishman, with a heart large enough for any two
reasonably good men.                       t
I may say here that all my previous difficulties since I entered into theatrical management
amounted to almost nothing when compared
with those I now encountered; but I surmounted them all, and the new St. Charles rose like a
phoenix from the ashes of its splendid predecessor. In forty working days (it rained nearly
half of the time while the walls were going up)
the new house was ready for the reception of the
company. I am not going to relate the difficulties referred to, except one, an account of which
I published at the time in the Picaysune of the
26th of November:




170


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


THE NEW ST. CHARLES THEATRE.
Shylock. We trifle time: I pray thee pursue sentence.
Portia. A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine.
The court awards it, and the law doth give it.
Shylock. Most righteous judge!
Portia. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast;
The law allows it, and the court awards it.
Shylock. Most learned judge! A sentence! Come,
prepare.
Portia. TAERY x LITTLE-there is something else.
Merchant of Venice-Act IV.
"      The reader will recognize in the above
quoted lines an extract from the celebrated case
of Shylock versus Antonio, as reported by Shakspearc. The plaintiff in that case has always been
looked upon as a hard-hearted fellow; indeed,
he was pronounced by the Duke of Venice
"'A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch,
Uncapable of pity, void and empty
From any dream of mercy:'
And yet he only claimed the ' due and forfeit of
his bond.' The duke, a very good sort of a gentleman, endeavored to soften his flinty heart,
and even went so far as to advise the Jew to
take off fifty per cent. of the amount unquestionably due him, in consideration of severe
losses sustained by the defendant by shipwreck
and other casualties. But Mr. Shylock was not
to be moved by prayers or entreaties; on the
contrary, he reproved the court for interfering
in his affairs, and boldly threatened a forfeiture
of their charter if they should refuse to grant a
decree in his favor. He refused to allege a reason for his harsh proceedings except ' a lodged
hate' he bore the unfortunate defendant. The
' strict court of Venice,' after hearing arguments
on both sides, together with some pretty smart
speeches from the by-standers, mostly friends of
the defendant, proceeded to pronounce sentence
in the words quoted at the head of this article.
In accordance with the 'sentence,' the Jew was
about to help himself to a pound of the defendant's flesh, when he was gently told by the
'learned judge' to 'TARRY A LITTLE.' Matters
hereupon took an ugly turn for Mr. Shylock,
and at the conclusion of the proceedings he
sneaked out of court-a broken man.
"About a week since, notices appeared in the
Courier and Bulletin newspapers, in the English
and French languages, announcing that the
* sheriff of the District Court had seized all our
rights in a lease of the lot of ground on which
the New St. Charles Theatre is being built, and
that the same would be sold by public auction
on the 30th instant, at the St. Louis Exchange,
to satisfy an execution in favor of Dubois &
Kendig, whose rights had been subrogated to
Jas. H. Caldwell.
"It has been already stated that Mr. Caldwell
purchased of D. & K. a certain judgment which
we had confessed in their favor for $2418. When
we confessed that judgment (it being what is
termed 'a friendly suit'), they agreed to wait for
the amount until January next; but when they
broke their contract with us by leasing the
American Theatre to Mr. Caldwell, it appears
they 'made a clean sweep of it' by giving him
control over the judgment against us, and left


us entirely at his mercy. By examining the notarial act, we find that the amount of the judgment is added to the rent of the American, so
that Mr. C. has three years to pay it in, the first
payment (one eighteenth part) falling due in
January, 1843. Having such easy terms himself, and having not only taken away ' the prop
that did sustain our house,' but taken possession of the house itself, we expected that a proposition would be made that we should put him
in funds to meet the payments as they should
fall due. We were mistaken. The ink was
scarcely dry with which we signed the lease of
the ground on which we are building the new
St. Charles before the sheriff was ordered to
make a seizure. We do not suppose Mr. Caldwell expected to make the money out of us at the
present time. He knew-' none so well as he'
-that burnt-out managers can not be always
ready for such a call as that made upon us by his
order.
"It is proper to remark here that the effects
of the seizure and advertisement of the lease
have not been, we believe, exactly what were intended. Many persons have inquired, 'Has the
building stopped?' but we are glad to say that
the contractors have not been for a moment dismayed-the furnishers have not held back a single material-the work has not been delayed by
the hostile proceeding a single hour; and it only
remains for us to state, for the information of
those gentlemen who have contributed to the
building of the new theatre by taking stock
or purchasing certificates for tickets, that we
hold protested paper of Mr. Caldwell to an
amount sufficient to pay the judgment against
us; an INJUNCTION has issued to prevent the
sale of our lease, and-the new manager of the
American has been told to 'tarry a little.'
"We feel no pleasure in making a statement
that Mr. Caldwell has not been able, in all instances, to meet his pecuniary liabilities, and
nothing should tempt us to make such a statement now but a desire to protect ourselves from
the effects of the judicial proceedings instituted
by him against us. The misfortunes we have
both met with in the destruction of our theatres should beget any thing but ill feeling among
the sufferers.
"To our friends and the general public we say
again, 'the work goes bravely on.' Give us
good weather for twenty days, and the NEW ST.
CHARLES will open a week before the close of
the year.
" [Signed in the name of the firm.]
"New Orleans, November 26,1842."
The "protested notes" mentioned consisted
of those given to the lamented Tyrone Power for
his last engagement at the St. Charles, and some
others owned by Mr. Irwin, which he had purchased from Fogg and Stickney, they having received them in lieu of cash for their engagement
at the same theatre and in Mobile. I purchased
the whole on a credit, the holders being willing
to lend a helping hand to building of the new
house.




THEATRICAL HISTORY.


171


On the 5th of December Mr. Caldwell opened
the new American Theatre. I insert a portion
of the lengthy address printed in the posters on
that occasion, because Mr. C. therein gives, in
his own peculiar style, some reminiscences of his
early career in New Orleans which are interesting:
"NEW AMERICAN THEATRE, NEW ORLEANS.
" As I am about to commence a new career in
the theatrical business, a few observations may
be expected from me by way of address. In attending, therefore, to that presumed expectation, although I must necessarily touch upon
matters as painful to my recollection as they
have been injurious to my fortunes, I hope most
sincerely that the public will acquit me of any
desire to awaken their sympathies.
" I know that, generally, addresses to the public, how much soever the writers of them may
aver to the contrary, are expressly intended to
excite sympathy as well as interest, for the man
who says to you that he wants no sympathy,
asks for it in telling you so. I assert, however,
that I am an exception to this general rule.
"It will be generally conceded, I believe, that
I am the founder of the Drama in New Orleans.
I built the 'American Theatre' in 1822, since
termed the 'Camp Street Theatre,' which was
recently destroyed by a vile incendiary, who, as
yet, I have not been able to bring to justice, although I still live in hopes of that event.
" Such was the situation at that time of the
Sixth Ward, which is now the Second Municipality, that the streets in which are some of the
greatest monuments were scarcely even defined.
"New Levee Street was then a continuous
line of ponds for more than a mile, and Tchoupitoulas and Magazine Streets could then boast
of no better buildings than such as are denominated 'shanties,' with here and there the mouldering remains of a former plantation residence.
" Camp Street had only at that time a few tobacco and cotton warehouses, and St. Charles
Street was best known to the boys, who sought
in sport for snipe among the latannier in the
marshes, which had never been disturbed otherwise in its original growth.
"' The gradual rising of the walls of the first
'American Theatre,' which walls are still standing, excited a great deal of curiosity, and naturally so, for people, conceiving no mercantile use
for such a building, speculated jocularly on the
idea of its being intended for a fortification.
"For several years the people had to travel on
gunwale sidewalks; and it is probably well remembered by several of our present residents,
carriages could not be used after a heavy rain
in places so far out of the way as Camp Street.
"The success attendant on my building the
American Theatre rendered it a nucleus around
which enterprise and commercial prosperity first
began to grow to that importance which may be
said to have settled and called into existence
the Second Municipality.
"My enthusiasm in favor of the Drama, and
my strong feelings in favor of New Orleans, induced me, in 1835, to build the 'St. Charles


Theatre and Arcade Baths.' At this period I
may state, merely for the purpose of explaining
matters as I go along, that I had $176,000-one
hundred and seventy-six thousand dollars, cash
assets, in my grasp.
" Circumstances, of which all of us are, more
or less, 'the most obedient humble servants,'
have left the 'St. Charles Theatre,' the 'Arcade
Baths,' and the 'Camp Street Theatre' 'among
the things that were,' and myself with an accumulation of losses and misfortunes almost too
serious to be reflected on.
" Now, however, I begin again; but instead of
commanding my own large ship from my own
quarter-deck, I have chartered a smaller vessel
to embark for sea in search of another golden
shore, from which I may gather means to erect
another (for so I suppose I should)-another
REAL St. Charles."
[He then gives his version of how he came to
lease the "American," asserting that the lessees
of the theatre burned down had no claim whatever on the house that was rebuilt upon its site,
concluding as follows:]
" My claims upon the patronage of the public
must rest, I well know, upon the attractions offered in this new establishment, and consequently my utmost exertions will most assuredly be
devoted to that end. I will state, however, that
I am far from expecting the success which, at
the outset of my new career, I had anticipated,
and from the conviction that two theatres for a
similar order of dramatic entertainments can not
be supported in the Second Municipality.
" Competition does not always secure the best
services, particularly as regards the drama; for
it raises the price of every thing connected with
the stage, and fosters directly the most destructive system associated therewith-the starring
system.
" But, despite all difficulties and annoyances,
I take the field again, active and determined,
hoping, like a prudent general, so to marshal
my forces as not easily to be beaten from the
field.
" It is more than probable that, had I expected the existence of a rival theatre in this municipality, I should have retired with my fortune of
laurels and losses, and fed upon the reflection
that I had spent twenty-three years of unremitting professional labor for the advantage of those
who intrude upon my path, not kindly or courteously, but with enviousness and misrepresentations.
"The case is, however, otherwise, and I am
now determined to bestir myself in such a manner as to render my new project in favor of the
Drama, if not profitable to my purse, at least additionally laudatory of my character.
"JAMES H. CALDWELL."
As the end of Mr. Caldwell's theatrical career
so soon followed the above announcement, it may
be as well here to insert the following card,
which appeared in the posters early in January,
about six weeks after the opening of the new
house in Poydras Street, and one week before




172


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


the NEW ST. CHARLES was to open its doors.
It will be seen that he did not wait to be " beaten from the field," but wisely retreated before
his competitors fired a gun. It appears from his
own statement that his "new project" had not
been "profitable to his purse." It will be for
others to judge whether it had been " laudatory
of his character."
"AMERICAN THEATRE.
"This establishment will be closed for the season on Saturday, the 14th instant.
" The lessee is constrained to say that the situation of the times, to which alone he can attribute the nightly losses, compels him to a
course unavoidable as it is painful to his feelings.
" Were the private fortune of the subscriber
equal to what it was when he completed the
late St. Charles Theatre, he would have been
proud, as he then was, to sustain the losses which
attended that beautiful temple; but all those
means are gone-all in honor.
" His pride now has to sustain a shock unparalleled to him, but which will be appreciated by
all honorable men. He can not now, without
the public support, continue in his much-loved
profession, and he is aware that the drama, not
only in this country, but in the old country, has
sustained a shock which can not be recovered
from in a generation.
" It is now my painful duty to announce that
I shall retire from the Drama altogether-it is
no longer a profession for a sensitive mind to
follow; and as to pecuniary profit, the following
facts, I hope, will illustrate to the world that I
have done for it what few men with capital would
have thought of. From the day of the completion of the St. Charles Theatre, on the 30th of
November, 1835, to its conflagration on the 13th
of March, 1842, I have expended in the support
of its losses $100,000.
"In the belief-a belief which was sustained
by the whole population-that no other theatre
than the present American would be built for
several years, I was induced to enter in the field
again. Unfortunately I did so; and, although no
theatre was open, the expenses have not been
met by at least $200 per night.
" Had I the means I should in very pride continue on, in the hope which constantly cherished
me in the St. Charles, that better time; would
return, and that the Drama would meet with a
competent support. Not possessing them, I
must, though reluctantly, abandon it, and seek
some employment by which I can live, for loss
and double ruin is the inevitable result of a managerial career in the present day.
"JAMES H. CALDWELL."
CHAPTER V.
THE New St. Charles opened on the 18th of
January, 1843, seventy-four days after the lot
came into my possession, having been built in
forty working days, as before stated, rain pre

venting work for thirty-four days. First night's
receipts, $490 75.
The season was moderately successful, considering "the situation of the times" referred to by
Mr. Caldwell; but we were borne down by pecuniary embarrassments the whole time, all creditors fully expecting to be paid out of the receipts
of the house.
The "American" was carried on by a "commonwealth," under the nominal management of
Mrs. Ann Sefton, but the season fizzled out ingloriously in a very short time. Mr. Dinneford
then tried his hand at management, but he also
failed, and we had the field to ourselves long before the usual time for the closing of theatres in
New Orleans.
The stars who appeared at the St. Charles this
season were J. H. Hackett, Dan Marble, George
Vandenhoff, Miss Lee, J. M. Field, and Dr.
Lardner (lecturer). Mr. Hackett, in addition to
his usual characters, essayed Richard the Third,
and I thought played it very well.
It may be supposed that I entertained no very
friendly feelings toward Mr. Caldwell after the
events above narrated. Such a supposition would
not be justified by the fact. From the first moment I met him in 1827 until the day of his
death, I entertained for him a warm friendship,
and, except during the time of our rivalship in
business, believe he reciprocated my feeling.
When he retired from management, a very short
time elapsed before we were on good terms again,
and we so continued ever after. He soon came
to take an interest in the new St. Charles, and
was ever ready to advise with me (and I often
consulted him) on difficult points which arose in
its management. About the first act under the
new (or rather restored) impulses which now inspired him was the offer to us of a lease of his
new Mobile Theatre. Unfortunately, as it turned out, we took it, and lost a great deal of money
there in after years. Relieved from the annoyances of management, Mr. Caldwell arose out
of the embarrassments which were surrounding
him, and eventually became a very rich man,
principally by means of his gas companies in
Cincinnati and Mobile. I will venture here to
state it as my opinion that, averaging Mr. Caldwell's twenty-five years of management, he did
not realize a profit of over $1000 a year; and
when you get through reading these memoirs
(only written to string anecdotes upon), you will
know of another manager who worked with
about the same result. The truth is, the business
of theatrical management is very uncertain and
fluctuating, and the profits of managers are


greatly overrated.




MONSIEUR MATTHIEU, THE MUSICIAN.


173


I can express my opinion of Mr. Caldwell as
an actor in no better way than by saying I have
never yet beheld his equal as a light comedian.
Murdock comes the nearest to him (of those that
I have seen), and Charles Mathews next. In Reuben Glenroy he was so true to nature that, in the
scene with the Hon. Mrs. Glenroy, he not only
brought tears into her eyes, but into those of all
the young mothers among the audience. Mr.
C. played the whole range of tragedy, and but
for some mannerisms, such as drawling out certain words as if he were running the chromatic
scale of the gamut in music, no actor gave greater satisfaction to Southern audiences than he did.
He was scrupulously guarded in giving the true
text of Shakspeare when performing his characters. In the later years of his life he only appeared in comedy, and in that he was unapproachable.
Monsieur Matthieu.
In 1819 (I think that was the year) the above
name appeared at the head of posting bills in Cincinnati, accompanied by a notification to the
good citizens of that growing town that a concert
would be given on a certain night, on which occasion the giver would sing a number of Italian,
French, and English songs, accompanied by himself on the guitar. A tolerably numerous audience attended the ballroom of the City Hotel
on the evening appointed, myself among the
number, and for the first time I saw and heard
the subject of this sketch. He was not much
more than the shadow of a man in appearance,
but had a pleasing countenance and a very pleasant smile, which won from his auditors a favorable reception. His voice was not powerful, but
it was sweet (what there was of it), and he gave
his simple ballads with considerable feeling. One
of his own compositions, "Sweet at Evening's
pensive Hour," still retains a place in my memory, though it has been confoundedly jostled
about by all sorts of music since.
Mons. Matthieu visited the Western country
accidentally; his journey happened thus: Soon
after landing in Baltimore from a Havre packet,
he heard of a great opening for a music-school
in Petersburg, Virginia, and resolved to proceed
thither without delay. At the stage-office the
clerk registered his name for Pittsburg instead
of Petersburg, and the monsieur did not discover
the error until he had crossed the Alleghany
Mountains and commenced his inquiries for the
gentleman to whom his letters of introduction
were directed.
"N'importe!" exclaimed the monsieur; " I


vish to go to Petersburg-dey bring me to Peetsburg. Eh bien! I sal stay over de mountainpour quoi?-because I can not make a raise of de
vind to pay back my passage to Baltimore." So
he made himself contented, and shipped on board
a flat-boat bound for Cincinnati, where, he heard,
it cost but little to live. "I hear," said he to
me, "dat in dis Cincinnati de peops very mush
fond of de musique, and de eat and de drink is
sheep [cheap]; dat dey have de cochon beaucoup- plenty! Trois sous de pound, and de
spare-rib throw him in, begar! and here I sal
make some casting of my anchor, as de sailor
say."
I felt an interest in the welfare of Mons. Matthieu, but soon lost sight of him. He dwelt for
several years in Louisville, where he manufactured cigars, and led the orchestra in Jefferson
Street. Jeffersonville, over the river, was his
residence for a time. In 1833 he discontinued
his business (confectionery and teaching music),
and started off for the Yellow Springs, in Ohio,
with the view of sending up a series of balloons
from that fashionable watering-place. A friend
of mine, a great lover of music, loaned him some
money, to be repaid out of thefirst proceeds of
the Yellow Springs balloon speculation, and he
has been looking out for the balloons ever since,
but has seen none, for the simple reason that
"they are not yet in sight."
In 1836 (he had now a wife and a small houseful of children) he applied for and obtained a situation in the orchestra of the Mobile Theatre, in
which he played the tenor violin. In addition to
his musical duties, he made fire-works for all the
explosions in Celeste's pieces. He was terrible,
and sometimes terrific at explosions. Many a
time and oft have I trembled for the walls of old
St. Emanuel. I can imagine I see his jolly,
sweaty face now, peeping out from a cloud of
exploded powder, after some of his rehearsals,
as he exclaimed, " Ah ha! what you tink of
dat, ha? Good explosion, eh? Shake de house,
ha?"
After our season closed, Mons. Matthieu hired
a small farm about five miles from Mobile, and
endeavored to raise potatoes and other vegetables; but, while the potatoes were growing, his
children's jaws must be going, so he accepted an
engagement as leader of two blind fiddlers at Mr.
Ferry's new theatre in Government Street, his
salary being fixed at eight dollars per week.
The weeks came and went, but the eight dollars
were not forthcoming-or, rather, were always
forth coming, but never came forth. The leader
was discouraged. " Sacre! I plant la pomme de
terre-he no grow in five months; I make en



174


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.:A-:-! 1 ) I                       \v,,,,
MONSIEUR MATTHIEU LEADING A SMALL ORCHESTRA. (See page 173.)


gagement to play de feedle-I get no pay! Begar, I sal take up my bed and promenade-dam if
I don't!" and, sure enough, he put off for Texas!
One morning in the winter- of 1843, a card
was brought to me in the director's room of the
St. Charles's Theatre on which was written the
name of the veritable Mons. Matthieu! I directed that he should be instantly shown up. On
entering the room, he jumped so high that I was
doubtful whether he would ever come down
again.
"Ah ha! Monsieur Sol, I am too happy I
see you againi Ah ha! you got one splendid
theatre; I sal make application to be your leader, tout de suite, directly."
" Sit down, my old friend, and compose yourself. Where have you hid yourself for the last
seven years?"
"Hid myself? I have been at Tex-ass, by
gar. I fight some battel at St. Jacinto; I get
so mush land as I can not find; I almost starve
my family in that glorious country; and I come
back to follow my profession in dis city for some
bread to eat."


After some conversation, I asked him what he
was doing in New Orleans.
"Doing? what I do here? I am at present
leading for Mr. Adams, the conjuror," he replied.
"Leading?"
"Yes, leading the orchestra." He was the
sole musician!
I have not seen the monsieur since. There
was but little left of him; a strong wind would
find no difficulty in blowing him away.
CHAPTER VI.
THE St. Louis Theatre was sold this spring
(1843) under a deed of trust given by the stockholders to secure a loan of $20,000. It was
bought in by Mr. George Collier, of whom we afterward rented it. The original cost of the lot and
building was $78,000, and it was never finished.
The season opened May 20th, with Yankee
Hill as the star, to a house of $157 75. Joe
Kirby and Ben De Bar played brief engagements, and then came the English lecturer Dr.




A FRIENDLY LETTER TO REV. DR. BEECHER.


175


Lardner. The only thing I remember about the
doctor's engagement is that my old friend George
Holland, having served Mr. Caldwell faithfully
through all his difficulties to the end of his theatrical career, now appeared as Dr. Lardner's
business agent and generator of his gases. Miss
lnce, Mr. and Mrs. Brougham, and Seguin's
Opera Troupe appeared during the season, which
closed on a considerable loss. John Brougham
can almost wear a certain "mantle" while playing Irishmen; and he has a mantle of his own
while playing other characters which will be as
long finding a deserving wearer when he goes as
has been that of poor Power!
The Tremont Theatre in Boston was sold to
a religious society this spring. Being in Boston
on business-in fact, to purchase the wardrobe
of the said theatre, I felt "called" upon to write
and publish the following letter:
Sol. Smith, of St. Louis, Mo., to the Rev. Dr.
Beecher, of Cincinnati, Ohio.
Boston, Sunday evening, August 13,1843.
SIR,-The newspapers have given the substance of a discourse delivered by you at the
Tremont Theatre soon after that building came
into the possession of its present proprietors.
When that discourse was delivered I was in St.
Louis, nearly one thousand miles from Boston.
Business has brought me here, and I take leave
to address you a few lines on the subject of your
address, conceiving there are some parts of it,
if correctly reported, somewhat exceptionableat least likely to be so considered by members
of the theatrical profession.
I make no apology for addressing you through
the columns of a newspaper. We are personally
unacquainted with each other, and, to be plain
with you-for "bluntness is my trade"-I am
not very desirous of an introduction.  You are
a preacher of the Gospel; I am nothing but an
actor, and a poor one at that, in every sense of
the word.  You are in possession of a princely
income, as payment for advocating the cause of
the meek and lowly Jesus; I am struggling for
a precarious subsistence in my capacity of a
stage-player, occasionally adding a little to my
income by appearing "in the character" of a
lawyer in our courts of justice. I may add that
you stand at the head of a powerful sect of professing Christians in the United States, while I
am content to claim membership in the lowest
rank of artists called histrions. I presume, if I
were to seek a conversation with you at your
splendid mansion, I should be spurned from your
door as unworthy to press your carpet with my
unhallowed feet. The name of " Sol Smith, the
actor," announced in your study, would proba

bly be the signal for bolting your doors; indeed,
if the report of your discourse at the Tremont be
a true one-and I have no reason to doubt that
it is-you must entertain a "lodged hate"-a
"certain loathing" for all poor sinners of our
class. Therefore it is that I do not seek a personal interview, but say what I have to say
through these columns.
You are represented to have made your " first
appearance on the Tremont boards" before a
"house crowded from pit to gallery;" and it is
said you "returned thanks to Almighty God for
having changed the place which was once the seat
of Satan and his works into Christ's holy temple;" and prayed that "all theatres might soon
become temples of God; and that Satan, their
great head, might immediately be driven back
to his appropriate home, the bottomless pit."
You are said to have dwelt particularly upon the
"BAD CHARACTER of actors and actresses," and to
have asserted of theatres that "there was no redeeming quality about them-they were evil, and
that continually-they were the fruitfiul source
of ALL vice-[all!]-the great social exchange
where sinners of all grades, colors, and description assembled to barter away and sell their immortal souls."
Now, Mr. Beecher, read over the above quotations, while quietly sitting in your closet, and
how do they look in print? Do not your denunciations strike you as being rather on the
wholesale order? How different - how widely
different was the language of your Master and
mine while tabernacling upon the earth! Without the slightest attempt at proof to support your
assertions, you throw out an accusation against
the whole community of actors. You stand up
in the pulpit (late the social exchange of sinners),
and before three thousand people, drawn together by your great fame as a speaker, and by curiosity to witness the cleansing of the Augean
stable by the river of your eloquence, and point
at a large class of your fellow-citizens, and brand
the whole of them as bad characters! Without
particularizing their crimes-without affording
them an opportunity of defense, you consign thousands of your fellow-mortals to infamy-or, in
other words, send them to the devil! You must
not be surprised, then, doctor, if the community you have so unsparingly denounced and
slandered-yes, slandered!-do not sit calmly
down under the imputation cast upon them.
A worm, when trodden upon, will turn upon a
giant.
In the name of my professional brothers and
sisters, I deny that, as a class, they are obnoxioujs to the charges you have brought against




176


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


them. I deny that the theatre is an exchange
where sinners barter away their souls-and I am
willing to take the late Tremont Theatre, with all
its faults, as a specimen of all theatres in the
United States-and I pronounce your attempt to
foist upon all actors and actresses the title of
"bad characters," uncharitable, unfair, and unmanly. To deny that the institution of the theatre is sometimes abused, and its objects perverted, or that some members of our profession are
faulty, would be to deny that managers, actors,
and actresses are human beings. But let the
professors of the stage be compared with those
of any other calling-nay, let them be compared
(and I invite the comparison) with the occupants
of the pulpit-let the moral character of each
class be set side by side before the world, and
the result need not be feared by the much-abused
histrions.
If we thought proper to "carry the war into
Africa," we might retort upon'the pulpit, and
point out instances (and not a few either) where
all the wholesome restraints of society have been
broken through and trampled under foot by
preachers of eminence-where the sanctity of the
domestic circle has been invaded; the obligations
of the marriage vow have been broken; confidence has been betrayed, and fathers and husbands have been compelled to seek redress from
courts of justice for injuries inflicted on their
daughters and their wives by hypocrites who use
religion as a cloak to hide their hellish propensities. One would suppose, doctor, to hear you,
and such as you, speak of actors and actresses,
that in your profession there is no acting; that,
from the holy horror with which you pour forth
your denunciations against the poor players, you
would shrink from employing any of the arts you
condemn so unsparingly in the actor. I assert
that many of you make a trade of religion. To
say nothing of the attempt that was made to
raise money by exhibiting the Tremont Theatre
as it stood when the wicked actors left it-in all
its glare of splendid scenery, rich decoration, and
gas-lights, you every week cunningly contrive out
ways and means to gull the public and obtain
money from sinners as well as saints-that at
your meetings you resort to all manner of tricks
to obtain contributions for pretended charities,
and for the support of missions to distant countries, with the professed object of saving heathen
souls, while your next-door neighbor is perishing
for bread; that, contrary to the command of our
Savior, who directed that we should receive the
Gospel "without money and without price," you
take care to confine your labors to such congregations as will pay you a price, and a very good


price too; that you "accept of engagements,"
like the actors, where the highest salaries are
given; that the louder the call, the more likely
you are to hear it; and that, instead of treating
your fellow-sinners kindly, and drawing them by
affectionate remonstrances from what you consider their evil ways, you denounce them in a
lot, and, so far as in you lies, shut the door of
grace upon them!
It would appear to me, reverend sir, that on
the occasion of taking formal possession of the
Tremont Theatre-the late "seat of Satan and
his works," since you will have it so-a temperate and forbearing tone would have been more
becoming your character and situation. Considering that you had succeeded in turning old
Satan and about one hundred sinners out of
doors-the sinners to starve, perhaps, and Satan
to look out for other quarters-the air of triumph
you assumed, and the sentences of condemnation
you uttered, were unworthy of you.  You had
hurled the Muses, neck and heels, from the premises; you had deprived their humble followers of
the means of earning their bread-was that a
time to indulge in scoffs and maledictions? was
that the way to purify the unholy spot?
How is it, fellow-preacher, that our Lord Jesus
Christ-for he is my Lord as well as yours-did
not say a word against theatres when on earth?
I do not find a sentence of his recorded which
implies that there is any sin in social amusements; on the contrary, the Bible is full of injunctions to cultivate a cheerful disposition. I
need only to refer to the fact of David's dancing
before the ark to show that dancing is pleasing
in the sight of God. Speaking of David-read
his Psalms, and you will find in those incomparable poems that rejoicing and clapping of hands
-playing upon instruments, of all the kinds then
invented-skipping, and making "joyful noises,"
formed most of the themes of the mighty poet.
If I am not mistaken (I have not my Testament
with me to refer to), one of the apostles took refuge in a theatre, which proved to him a safe sanctuary when pursued by a ruthless mob. Our
Savior dwelt among sinners, gently leading them
into the paths of virtue. How different is the
conduct of his pretended followers of the present
day-how different from the course pursued by
the apostles in the early ages of Christianity!
Instead of "going forth into all the ends of the
earth to preach the Gospel to all nations," without coin or scrip, your modern preachers must
live upon the fat of the land, dwell in splendid
mansions, be in receipt of stipulated salaries;
and, instead of spreading the blessed tidings of
the Gospel to the inhabitants of heathen lands,




SECOND SEASON OF THE NEW ST. CHARLES.


177


they confine their teachings to their own favored
flocks-unless some temple of Satan is to be purified-then, indeed, a reverend divine can travel
hundreds of miles -not, as in Pilgrim times,
bareheaded and barefooted, but in steamers, railroad cars, and coaches, to fulfill a prophecy made
by himself before he was " called" to the West!
Then, instead of extending the hand of charity to
the houseless individuals who have thought it no
sin to "labor in their vocation," and, if he thinks
their calling sinful, telling them to " GO AND SIN
NO MORE," he can brand a whole community
with infamy-pronounce them ALL " bad characters"-and can " sup after that!"
But stop-what am I about? Let me not fall
into the same error I am condemning in others.
All preachers are not to be answerable for the
faults of a portion of them. I have known some
orthodox preachers (and I record it with pleasure) who were honest, charitable, and Christianly. I only wished to show that, bad as actors
are, or may be as a class, they will lose nothing
by a comparison with preachers. In all the practices of active benevolence, I religiously believe
they rank far above them.
I would suggest to you, my fellow-sinner, that
if you really believe actors and actresses to be
the " bad characters" you represented them to
be in your sermon, it is your bounden duty to
preach to THEM-point out wherein consists the
sinfulness of their calling, reason with them, draw
them from their evil ways, if they are evil, and,
by treating them kindly, convince them that you
are indeed the minister of that blessed Redeemer
you profess to serve. During the year preceding
the last Presidential election, I was sometimes
called on to " speechify" at political meetings.
Hard cider and coon-skins were all "the go," as
the saying is; and, being a good Whig (I believe
you went for Harrison too, doctor, but no matter for that)-well, as I was saying, being a good
Whig, my stump speeches were "applauded to
the very echo." I have frequently thought since
that if I had avoided the "log-cabins," and made
speeches at the meetings of the locofocos, my
rhetoric would (or might) have had much more
effect; for the Whigs were all right, and thought
us I did, whereas it should have been our policy
to convince the other party of their error; for it
was to them we looked for votes to turn the scale
in our favor. So with you preachers and professing Christians: if you and your congregations would attend theatrical exhibitions (for, depend upon it, doctor, you can not "put them
down"), applaud the good sentiments, and express your disapprobation of every thing calculated to produce an immoral effect upon the auM


dience-in short, if you and they would co-operate with us, and endeavor to purge the stage of
its impurities, instead of endeavoring, as you do,
to exterminate it, much good might be effected,
and the drama might flourish as the adjunct of
Christianity.
I did intend to say something about Satan, for
I do think you treat that imaginary being rather
cavalierly, taking into consideration the fact that
he is always at hand as a convenient scarecrow
to " drive the stray lambs into the fold," and that
you could not carry on your business a week
without him; but, upon second thoughts, I have
concluded to say nothing in his behalf. Send
him back " to the bottomless pit," doctor, as soon
as you like, and a good riddance, I say.
At some future period I propose to discuss at
some length the USEFULNESS OF THE STAGE. At
present I fear I have wearied your patience with
my desultory and disjointed strictures. I will
conclude by recommending to your consideration the 7th chapter of Matthew, 1st to 5th and
21st to 23d verses.
Hoping you will receive this letter in as kind a
spirit as that which dictates it, and advising you
to cultivate Christian feelings, I remain, dear sir,
your fellow-laborer in the vineyard,
SOL. SMITH.
CHAPTER VII.
THE new St. Charles, now finished, and well
furnished with new scenery, opened for its second season November 15, 1843, with the HUNCHBACK and A ROLAND FOR AN OLIVER. Receipts, $369; certainly not a very promising beginning. Next night (GABRIELLE, MR. AND
MRS. WHITE, and A LOVER BY PROXY) the receipts fell down to $77 75. Mr. Brougham, on
his first appearance, attracted a house of only
$99 75. When, on the next night, his wife appeared with him, the receipts were $269 50;
and so went on the business for some time. H.
Placide (first time playing as a star) brought the
business up a little, his first house being $366 25.
Mr. P.'s second appearance drew only $129 25;
his third, $202 75; his fourth, $165 50; and
his fifth (GRANDFATHER WHITEHEAD), $313 50.
On Monday, December 4, Mr. Placide played
in two pieces, CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE and
DOUBLE BEDDED ROOM, supported by a company fully competent for their correct performance, to a house of $96! Next night GRANDFATHER WHITEHEAD, and the comedy of JOHN
BULL, brought the receipts up to $444 25; but
next night (Placide in two pieces, and another






178                AUTOBIOGRAPHY 01
piece performed with them) the receipts fell
down to $49 25!
Ole Bull, the great violinist, played three
nights, at double prices of admission, to the following receipts: $1103, $1207, $883, and $953.
Vieuxtemps also played a few nights, but his
attraction at our house was small, while at the
French theatre he did pretty well.
We had a troupe of wild beasts, under the management of a Mr. Hopkins, and they performed in a piece entitled MUNGO PARK, in which
a Mr. Shaffer played Mungo, I believe. Mr.
Shaffer also went into the cage of wild animals.
During this engagement I received a note one
morning from Miss Edista Stora, in the following words:
"New Orleans, February 2, 1844.
To Sol. Smith, Esq., Manager, St. Charles Theatre:
" SIR,-Understanding that you are in need of
a female with sufficient nerve to act with the
wild beasts in a new piece to be brought forward, I wish to offer my services for the purpose, if we can come to an understanding. I
am no actress, never having been on the stage;
but if the part has not much in it to say, I am
confident I can acquit myself with credit as far
as being with the wid beasts, or permitting
them to climb upon or over me may require.
" An early answer by the bearer, stating when
an interview can be had, is respectfully requested by your obedient servant,
" EDISTA STORA."
It seemed a strange notion of the young woman; but believing, from the amiable temper of
the animals, that she would incur no danger, and
that a woman appearing in the cage with wild
animals would prove attractive, I drew up the
following brief engagement, which she signed by
making her mark:
"New Orleans, February 3,1844.
"I do hereby engage with the managers of
the St. Charles Theatre to go into the cage of
wild animals with Mr. Shaffer, on Sunday night
(to-morrow), in the said theatre, for the sum of
ten dollars.; also, if required, on Monday night,
for the same sum.             her
"EDISTA X STORA."
mark.
This Lady of the Lions "went into the cage
with Mr. Shaffer" two nights, but this apparently dangerous feat created no sensation, nor increase to the receipts at the treasury. The truth
is, Hopkins's were very tame beasts, and it was
a hard matter to get up an idea that they were
in any way dangerous, in or out of the cage. In
one scene of MUNGO PARK, the hero —Mungo
himself-played by Shaffer, was to be jumped
upon, while lying asleep, by a tiger, and a terrific
struggle (so said the bills) was to take place between the man and the infuriated animal; but,
all that the keepers could do, the animal would? A RETIRED ACTOR.


not become infuriated. It was something like
Barnum's buffalo-hunt over in Hoboken-a failure. The tiger was dropped down through a
hole cut in the scene, so arranged that she appeared to spring upon Shaffer from a thicket,. A
struggle ensued, but it was Shaffer struggling to
hold on to the tiger so that she wouldn't run
away!
Mr. J. W. Wallack-the Wallack, as he was
called-was engaged for a few nights, but was
not successful in drawing large audiences. Of
this actor I must say that he vwas deservedly an
immense favorite in this country since about
1820. He was very fascinating in his acting.
No one could help admiring him. In London
he was contemporary with Macready, and for
many years considered by some his equal in tragedy, his superior in melodrama. Henry Clay
told me he liked Wallack's Hamlet better than
that of any actor he had ever seen perform
the part, and he had seen all the great actors.
Rolla was his most popular part in tragedy, but
it afforded him no pleasure to be told so. He
generally opened in Rolla, and Dick Dashall, in
the farce of MY AUNT. Mr. Wallack never had
his equal, I think, in such characters as Martin Heywould, Massaroni, lMichael (ADOPTED
CHILD), and Don Ccesar de Bazan.
On Wednesday, the 7th of February, took
place the first appearance in New Orleans of
Mr. Macready, who opened in HAMLET; receipts, $822. On Friday he appeared as Alacbeth; receipts, 885. The houses did not keep
up to that mark, but they were universally good.
James H. Hackett played on what is termed the
"off nights," but that unquestionably fine actor,
backed up by H. Placide and the excellent stock
company, was overshadowed by the "great tragedian."  Only think of Hackett playing Sir
Pertinax Mac Sycophant and Mons. AMallet to
$118 50! and his benefit only yielding a hundred dollars more than that to his personation
of Rip Van Winkle, Col. Wildfire (the KENTUCKIAN), and M1ons. Tonson!
Mr. Macready finished his first fine engagement, and then played with us in the Mobile
Theatre, which we rented from Mr. Caldwell
that season.
Mr. Forrest followed Macready in the St.
Charles, and played a good engagement, afterward going to Mobile.
On the finishing of a second engagement at
the St. Charles, Mr. Macready went up with the
company to St. Louis in the steamer Scott,
Captain Swon. Some very amusing scenes were
acted during this voyage, one of which I propose
to relate.




A MAN WHO KNEW ALL THE ACTORS.


179


An intimate Friend.
There is a class of individuals who claim to
know every body. Actors particularly, and particularly great actors, are their most familiar
companions. Macready, Forrest, and Booth are
their most valued professional friends; they have
known them so long and so intimately-interchanged so many civilities with them-been in
their society under so many peculiar circumstances-indeed, they have known them from
childhood-they consider them as brothers!
In 1844 one of this class happened to be a
passenger on the Scott on her trip from New
Orleans to St. Louis during the month of March.
He was a jolly fellow, full of anecdote, and always ready with his joke, conundrum, repartee,
or pun. Snatches of the fashionable negro songs
-called, for fashion's sake, Ethiopian melodies
-quaint sayings, and quotations from Shakspeare, were at his tongue's end. He was the
life of the social hall. Not knowing his real
name, we will call him Spriggins.
The great tragedian Macready had been performing an engagement at the St. Charles Theatre, and he was, of course, the subject of conversation in the cabin of all steam-boats leaving
New Orleans. Spriggins had, according to his
own account, attended the theatre every night
Macready had acted.
"His Macbeth was great," said Spriggins,
joining in a conversation by the stove in the social hall, where the passengers were picking their
teeth and smoking, " his Hamlet superb, and his
Werner magnificent! I have frequently said to
him, at supper, after he has been personating the
latter character-"
"You know him, then?" interrupted a passenger, who was at the moment lighting a cigar
by Spriggins's.
"Know him?-know BILL Macready? Well,
I should rather think I do-intimately-intimately-spent most of my leisure time with him
while he was in Orleans. It was by my advice
he came out to the South."
"Indeed!"
"Yes, indeed. It was a lucky thing for the
managers that I happened to be in New York
on Macready's arrival from England. He never
would have visited the South had it not been for
me."
" What sort of a man is he in private life?"
inquired a gentleman.
"Oh," replied Spriggins, "he is devilish
haughty and austere to strangers, but in his intercourse with friends he is a very companionable sort of a fellow, I assure you."


"Are you acquainted with Mr. Forrest?"
asked a passenger.
"Acquainted with him f - Ned Forrest?
Have known him since lie was a boy. We were
schoolmates in Philadelphia; saw him make his
first appearance as Young Norval at the Chestnut
Street Theatre. It was by my advice he adopted the stage as a profession. Great man Ned
is, but, after seeing Macready, one doesn't relish
Ned's acting as formerly. He is all very well as
Mfetamora and Jack Cade, but when he attempts
Shaksperian characters-" Spriggins concluded
this criticism by shaking his head and slightly
shuddering, as a man does when he has just
taken a dose of salts.
" Did you see him act during his late engagement at the St. Charles?" asked one.
"No, I didn't," replied Spriggins. "Though
I like Ned, I couldn't persuade myself to undergo his stentorian inflictions. He called to see
me once or twice, and I dined with him three
times, I believe, and that's the extent of our intercourse this season."
Spriggins went on chatting about actors and
actresses till near dinner-time, giving very amusing accounts of their adventures during his long
and intimate acquaintance with them. He knew
them all "like a book." The Southern managers
were under great obligations to him for advice;
indeed, they very seldom made any engagement
of consequence without consulting him. He
knew all the stars and principal stock actors and
actresses. He had been the prime agent in getting up most of the complimentary benefits; he
had written nearly all of the criticisms and puffs
that had appeared in the New Orleans papers
during the past theatrical season; in short, if his
veracity might be relied on, he was the connecting link between the public and the theatre, and,
to a casual observer, it would be a matter of
wonder how theatrical affairs could proceed for
a single week without him.
Who was he?
He knew every body connected with the stage,
or who had been connected with it during the
last twenty years. He dined with Mr. Caldwell
twice a week. It was by his advice that gentleman had built the old St. Charles. We have already seen that he was on terms of intimacy
with the two great tragedians of the age. Before the ringing of the dinner-bell, the congregated passengers in the social hall became aware
that a few of the more humble followers of Thespis were also honored with Mr. Spriggins's acquaintance and limited regard. In reply to
questions judiciously propounded by the cigarsmokers, it became known that the season at




180


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


New Orleans had closed, and that the company
were about leaving for St. Louis; that he was
bound for the same city, but he had declined
the invitation of Bill Macready, Jim Ryder, Joe
Field, Jack Weston, and Sol Smith to go with
them in the J. M. White, in consequence of being obliged to stop on the way at several towns
on the liver. "Besides," he observed, "it is a
relief to beby one's self during a journey of this
kind; for I knew how it would be if I went with
them-long sittings over the wine-bottle after
dinner; late suppers, tedious stories, and professional reminiscences. I am such a favorite with
them all that I should be bored to death with
their attentions."
The bell rung out the summons to dinner.
After the cloth had been removed, it was observed that five gentlemen remained, enjoying
their wine, at the middle of the table. Spriggins
cast a wistful look toward the party, but did not
venture to move his chair up to the place occupied by the bon vivants. One of the five-a reverend-looking individual-observing that a gentleman lingered at the lower end of the table,
after a short whispering consultation with his
companions, sent the steward with the compliments of the party, and a request that Spriggins
would honor them with his company, and partake of a glass of wine with them. He accepted
the invitation with alacrity, and was soon the
merriest of the group. During the "sitting,"
Spriggins imparted the information that he was
connected with the press, and that he was on a
tour through the river towns for the purpose of
increasing the circulation of one of the New Orleans papers. He might proceed as far as St.
Louis. Bill Macready was going to that place,
and didn't know how he could get along in a city
so far West without some friend to take care of
him; but he didn't see, he didn't, how people
could expect people to leave their business to attend to other people's business. Jim Ryder had
insisted on his going; Joe Field had expressed
a great desire that he would go, and assist him
to establish his -projected new paper; Jack Weston had said he must go, and Old Sol wouldn't
take no for an answer.
" So," said Captain Swon, who had just joined
the party, "you are very well acquainted with
these actor folk, Mr. Spriggins?"
"Acquainted with actors? Oh, no; I don't
know any of them-ha! ha! ha!" answered and
laughed Spriggins, winking at the wine-drinkers
all round; " never met any of them in my life."
At this moment the clerk of the boat happened
to be passing by that section of the table where
the party were enjoying themselves.


"What's that you say, Mr. Spriggins? —not
know any of the actors!" said he. "Allow me
to introduce you to a few: Mr. Macready, Mr.
Spriggins; Mr. Ryder-Mr. Field-Mr. Weston
-Mr. Sol Smith, Mr. Spriggins; Spriggins, Macready-Weston; Spriggins, Field-Ryder; Spriggins-"
The party rose to do honor to the introduction-all but Spriggins, who sat in his chair
holding a wine-glass midway between the table
and his mouth, the very picture of astonishment.
" Steward!" faltered Spriggins, when he found
the use of his tongue, "bring forward my trunk;
I get out at Natchez."
He did get out at Natchez, and I have been
told that he now stoutly denies ever having been
acquainted with any member of the theatrical
profession.
Another scene I give in the words of Matt
Field, as he wrote it out for the Reveille, a new
paper which he and his brother, J. M. Field, and
Charles Keemle, established in St. Louis this
year:
"THE SECOND ADVENT.
"' A time, and a time, and a half a time-lo, a great
time!'
" Not a great while since, there came, on one
of our 'bully boats,' from New Orleans 'up,' a
crowd of all sorts, and ' all sorts of a crowd' it
proved to be; settees at a premium, and standees
commanding attention; seats at the first table a
romantic delusion, and second ditto a matter
merely problematical. We will not say that
there was any great degree of suffering from
ennui, notwithstanding, for there were some
'good ones' on board, and plenty of ice; ducks
in the river no one could hit; a lovely moon
and ample boiler-deck, to say nothing of an occasional ' saw,' and a select library of De Koch
novels! One day the strangely exciting intelligence was spread around that a ' live Millerite*
had just turned up! A real live Millerite! And
such, indeed, the stranger proved to be: a smallsized, middle-aged, transparent-looking gentleman, with a wandering eye, his hair combed
back from a fine slope of forehead, a white cravat, and a black frock almost as transparent as
his complexion. He was by no means backward in proclaiming his opinions, and a handbill was, in consequence, immediately put up at
the bar, ' Wanted, a Mormon;' but, though one
was discovered below among the deck passengers, he was too ill with an ague to confront
the fire - worshiper. Such an opportunity on
board a steam-boat was not to be lost, however,
and, at request, the woe-commissioned one consented to explain his calculations and establish
the proximity of brimstone immediately after
tea. Tea dispatched, and all on tip-toe, the bell
was rung, chairs were placed for the ladies, etc.,
when the Millerite appeared from his state-room




A M ERITE ENCOUTERS A MYSTERIOUS PROCESSION.
A MILLERITE ENCOUNTERS A MYSTERIOUS PROCESSION.


181


(one of the berths in which a kind young gen- pery. On they came, solemnly and slowly, formtieman had surrendered to him in reverence to ing at length a semicircle round the Millerhis calling), bearing his chart and a wand a la ite's door, who regarded them with an eye of
Lardner!                                     intense astonishment. One of the figures now
"The chart was unusually large and awe-in- thrust his arm under the cloth which covered
spiring. When tacked up it covered two state- the strange object just mentioned, and gave a
rooms. On one hand glared the figure of the turn or two, as if winding up an instrument,
Prophet's Vision, large as life, with its breast of when instantly came once more that frightful
gold and belly of brass, etc., etc.; then came cry, making the Millerite start back into his
the ram and the goat, the beast, the dragon, and room. The chant now swelled more loudly,
the scarlet lady, with the array of units, tens, and its burden became distinguishable:
hundreds, and thousands fringing the edges             Come forth, oh thou elected,
mysteriously, as usual. After a rather self-sat-         Millennium is nigh;
isfied and familiar request that Heaven would           Let sinners here rejected
open the eyes of the benighted ones around him           Say now it's all my eye!'
to a proper fear of the judgment which might    The figure continued his winding-up motion,
arrive before morning, the learned lecturer be-  " The figure contued his w   inding-up m otion,
gan his explanations. He subtracted the bear and the strange cries and screams became absofrom the dragon, added the goat to the beast, lutely ear-splitting. The Millerite endeavored
multiplied the horns by the legs, which, with to escape through the opposite door of his
the figure's 'ten toes,' Nebuchadnezzar, Napo- state-room on to the 'guard,' when a heavy obleon Bonaparte and the Clay Convention, ave ject fell thundering at his feet, and in the very
leon Bonaparte, and the Clay Convention, gave act of retreating into the air a well-grown pig
moking a cigar, gazing from the boiler- darted between his legs, carrying him a few
deck upon the glorious stars, perhaps ponder- yards triumphantly, and finally disappeared
ing upon that mad mass, the human brain, the headlong down the stairs leading to the lower
moments were passed till bedtime, when the deck, bearing off with him a considerable spread
less fortunate at length lay down, for a pillow  of the ascension robe, which he had stuck his
enjoying the gentle inclination afforded by the fore legs through.
back of a capsized chair, and so they slept.   "Of course every body was up and out, but
" In the midst of their varied dreams of elec- on their return the strange pageant had disaption bets, Joe Smith, Elder Knapp, and pitch- peared. The. Millerite left the boat next mornforks, all were roused suddenly by a most sin- ing, and, singular to say, notwithstanding every
gular and startling noise. Fifty heads were possible inquiry, nothing was ascertained as to
popped up from the floor of the now but dimly who the wags were. They had evidently relighted cabin, state-room doors were opened, solved not to '  a word abt the pg!
there was a protrusion of profiles, and a general
inquiry,
" ' What the devil is that?'
"Among the very first, the door of the Mil-             CHAPTER VIII.
lerite was flung open, and he appeared actually  MR. MACREADY began the season with us in
in his ascension robe, a long white gown reaching  MR. MACREADY began the season with us in
to his feet. His face wore a very wild expres- St. Louis, opening with HAMLET on the 9th of
sion, but whether with hope of the i advent' or April, 1844. His engagement was not a great
fear of an explosion we will not undertake to success here. Mr. Forrest followed soon after,
say. After much guessing and wondering what and his engagement ws  a very poor one. Bethe matter was, and a general admission that it
was 'a strange noise,' the heads began to disap- ing absent nearly the whole of this season, I
pear, when the sound was heard again, as sud- shall only say that it was pursued
den and as startling as before. It was some-          " o a dismal and a fatal end
thing like an escape of steam, yet steam it certainly was not-a sort of cry, but abrupt-short that is to say, it was fatal to the pockets of the
-a sort of explosion of voice, as if the effort, managers, emptying them as effectually as Macsuddenly checked, had burst the breather's beth's daggers emptied the body of King Duncan
windpipe. In the midst of the natural surprise  f  blood.
and conjecture came a low chant of voices. The of its blood.
forward doors, opening upon the boiler-deck,   After getting the season a going, I proceedwere thrown wide, and a singular spectacle pre- ed to Cincinnati, Ohio, having rented the Nasented itself. A brilliant light streamed in upon tional Theatre from Mr. John Bates, leaving Mr.
the dim cabin, and a number of strange, tall Maready and a portion of the company (J. M.
figures, 'all in white,' approached along the                M.
vista, gliding, as it were, spectre-like, over the Field and wife, J. M. Weston and others) to folmattress-covered floor. Every one was roused low, and join the forces from Mobile, which were
and gazing in mute astonishment. The chant to form the company for the support of the stars
continued, and the figures came on. In their engaged for that city. My passage to Louismidst walked two much taller than the rest, e    a             ty        s      to loui.
apparently supporting a body of some kind on ylle was made on the steamer White Cloud.
their shoulders, but what it was no one could This was a trial trip, as will be seen from the
tell, for it was also enveloped in long white dra- following report:








182


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


Court of Uncommon Pleas.
Temperance l
Temperance    Indictmentfor whisky drinking
VS.
James Green.           out of a jug.
If the reader has traveled much in the West,
he has witnessed the proceedings of self-constituted courts on the boiler-decks of steam-boats.
It has been the luck of the writer of this sketch
to act as judge of many of these dignified tribunals, consequently he has been called on to
pass judgment on many of his fellow-travelers
during the last thirty years.
In the courts here spoken of the jurisdiction is
generally co-extensive with the boats on which
they are held, and it is very seldom an individual is found who is foolhardy enough to call in
question their powers, hence the sentences are
pretty generally carried into effect without resistance.
In the summer of 1844, when all was "hurrah for Clay" and "hurrah for Polk," a term
of the Court of Uncommon Pleas was "begun
and held" on board the good steamer White
Cloud, Captain Robards, during her voyage from
St. Louis to Louisville.
After the organization of the court by the appointment of judge, prosecuting attorney, clerk,
and sheriff, proclamation was made by the latter
functionary that all was ready for business. The
first case on the docket was the one stated at the
head of this report. The defendant, Green, a
deck-passenger, had been delivering a temperance lecture in the cabin, and was retiring to his
quarters on the lower deck, when he was arrested by the sheriff and brought before the "honorable court."  I never saw a "prisoner at the
bar," charged with murder, manifest more fear
than did this poor fellow: the reason will appear hereafter. The indictment was read, charging him, the said Green, being at the time a
member of a temperance society, with having,
"with malice aforethought," drank whisky out
of a jug, contrary to the dignity of the temperance cause and the interest of the bar-keeper of
the White Cloud, etc.
"Prisoner, you have heard the charge; are
you guilty or not guilty?"
"Not guilty," replied the trembling Green"that is, not very guilty; I did take a little bit of-"
"Prisoner, answer distinctly to the chargeare you guilty or not guilty?"
" Is there any lawyer aboard?" asked the defendant, looking fearfully at the crowd.
"Yes," replied the Court, "there, are any
number of them on board, going to the Whig
Convention at Nashville; you are entitled to


counsel, and the Court assigns you L.V. Bogy,
Esq., so you can unbosom yourself to him."
The worthy gentleman named readily accepted the appointment, and a jury being empaneled,
the trial commenced.
The prosecuting attorney (who was no other
than my friend Colonel A. B. Chambers, the
well-known apostle of temperance) made a splendid "opening." He insisted that intemperance
was the unpardonable sin, and demanded that
the jury, if convinced of the guilt of the accused,
should inflict the severest punishment known to
the law.
The evidence all went to show that the accused had certainly committed the damning
deed-he had most surely drank whisky-more
than that, he had drank it out of a jug! There
was no getting round it, or over it, or under it;
drank he had-he had drank whisky-and outof-a j-u-g!
The counsel for the prisoner, finding the fjct
could not be controverted, endeavored to justify,
and went into a lengthy argument to show that
the greatest men in ancient and modern times
had been and were drunkards; that the greatest
literary efforts had been inspired by the winebottle; and, so far from the defendant being
blamable for what he had done, he, the learned
counsel, contended that he was deserving of the
highest commendation.
A reply from the prosecuting attorney closed
the case, and the jury were about to retire to the
pantry to deliberate on their verdict, when the
defendant addressed the Court:
"May it please your honor, I want to say a
few words, if you've no objections."
"By all means; you shall be heard. The defendant has a right'to be heard by himself and
counsel; proceed."
Green, trembling from head to foot, mounted
a chair (on the intimation of the sheriff), and
spoke as follows:
"Mister Judge, and gentlemen of the jury, I
want to say this much-I am guilty; I don't justify the drinking of the whisky, I don't. I tried
to persuade my attorney not to make that sort
of defense, but he would do it. I drank a leetle
whisky; but I took it for medicine, as I have
proved to you by the doctor who prescribed
it. I know I've done wrong-very wrong, and
I deserve punishment; but I beg and pray this
honorable Court to have pity on my wife and —"
" Hast thou a wife?" interrupted the Court.
"I have," replied the defendant.
"And children?"
" No; no children yet, may it please the honorable Court, but my wife is in afix."




A SON OF TEMPERANCE IN TROUBLE.


183


"A fix?"                                 " We, the jury, find the defendant not guilty,
"Yes; a fix."                           and recommend him to mercy. The sheriff to
"Prisoner, what do you mean by your wife treat the jury, the attorneys to pay costs, and the
being in a fix?"                         judge tofill the jug which the defendant drank
"Why, your honor," proceeded the accused, out of, and which the jury have emptied during
"she will shortly become the mother of a father- the trial."
less orphan if you throw me overboard."     The defendant, when he heard the verdict read,
"Throw you overboard! What has put that fell down on his knees in thankfulness, renewed
into your head, prisoner?"               his temperance pledge, thanked the judge and


TIE COURT OF UNCOMMON PLEAS. (See page 182.)


"Oh!" groaned Green, in agony, "I know the
punishment of my crime; my counsel has told
me all about it. I'm to be thrown overboard, to
prevent my ever again drinking any thing but
cold water!"
Finding the poor fellow took the matter so
seriously, there was a general desire for his acquittal.
The judge gave a charge to the jury full of
nice points of law, and leaning greatly toward
the prisoner. Without leaving their seats, the
jury returned the following verdict:


gentlemen of the jury, and in his wife's name
called down blessings on the whole crowd.
CHAPTER IX.
NOTWITHSTANDING the great depression in
business of all kinds-theatrical business particularly-I had hopes of a good season in Cincinnati, the scene of my earliest attempt in management. I was doomed to bitter disappointment.
Macready's houses counted thus: $721, $292,




184


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


$430, $377, $295, $406; total in six nights, 1 nights I have sat and witnessed his personation
$2525; average per night, $422, half of which of Warner; and his King Lear I have witnessed
Mr. Macready received. The receipts on For- twice. Macready's Hamlet is a masterpiece.
rest's nights were $360, $286, $142, $135, He acts that part at rehearsal as well as when
$207, $426, $175, $422, $140, $241, $426; before an audience. His Iago is very fine, but,
total in eleven nights, $2960; average per in my estimation, not equal to that of the late
night, $269, half of which went to Mr. Forrest. James Wallack. His Shylock is immense, and
Is not this a pitiful beginning of a season? But far ahead of the Shylock of any other actor I
worse remained behind! After the departure have ever seen. In the character of Joseph
of the great stars the business fell down to al- Surface he was not appreciated by our audience,
most nothing. H. Placide played his great but he was extremely correct in it. The same
character of Grandfather Whitehead to $7 75! may be said of his Lord Townley. In Macbeth
Miss Nelson opened to $49! Hackett opened he was great throughout, and I have seen the
in his great Falstaff to $113, and played Rip pit almost rise at him in the fifth act, where he
Van Winkle to $78. H. Placide's benefit, $47; turns from his flight at the taunts of Macduff,
Hackett's, $124. You may be sure I was not and says,
idle during the engagements of the tragic stars,                      "I will not yield
neither were the artists and carpenters, for     s the   ground beneath young Malcolm's feet," etc.
were working day and night on ALADDIN, which  I could see nothing extraordinary in Macreawas eventually brought out with entirely new  dy's Cardinal Wolsey.  William Tell and Virand gorgeous scenery by Lehr, machinery by Iinius (his original characters) were very good
Ellsworth, and two hundred new dresses, to a indeed; but, while playing those characters, he
house of $98!! Next night $111, and the run never could be satisfied with the support he reof the piece continued without attracting any ceived in our Southern and Western theatres.
better houses. CHERRY AND FAIR STAR fol- In Richelieu he fairly reveled in the cofsciouslowed, equally well put upon the stage, and the ness that he had no rival who would even atfirst night yielded but $81. C. A. Logan, a very tempt competition.
popular actor and resident of Cincinnati, took a  In the second act of MACBETH, when he goes
benefit, and was honored with a house counting off to murder King Duncan, Mr. Macready went
$61. J. M. Weston, another favorite, had $42; through the act of stabbing behind the scenes,
and Miss Randolph, a charming girl and good and the carpenters to this day point out the spot
actress, had $52. The Fourth of July, adver- upon the brick wall of the St. Charles where the
tised as, and intended to be, the closing of the stabs were made! It is quite true that he enseason, the irresistible attraction of ALADDIN tirely forgot the actor in the character he was
and CHERRY AND FAIR STAR was offered, to be portraying. When he came to himself between
played in the daytime and at night, and the Cin- the acts, he was irritable and fault-finding; nevcinnatians managed to contribute for both per- er satisfied with those who acted with him, sendformances the enormous sum of $547, and were ing for this one and that one for the purpose of
so elated with such a grand success (!) that a re- administering a lecture, and often, until I gave
quest was got up and extensively signed that the him notice I would not go, dispatching his servmanager would consent to the reopening of the ant to the manager, to whom he would pour out
house for one night for the purpose of receiving complaint after complaint, until the rising of
a complimentary benefit! I was fool enough to the curtain called him to his duties upon the
comply with this request, and was complimented stage.
to the tune of $171.                          I have said I believed Mr. Macready to be a
I am thus particular in the details of this good man. I have many reasons to believe so.
spring season for the reason that my friends That he was an active and ardent lover of his
in Cincinnati have since blamed me for not giv- art, no one can doubt who remembers that he
ing their city a fair trial. The total receipts for spent ~50,000 more than his receipts while mansixty-three nights, with a better company than a   aging the two great theatres of London, Drury
had ever visited the place, or ever has visited it Lane and Covent Garden. Of his goodness of
since, with the best stars and showy pieces, were heart I have had many opportunities of knowing.
$6098, about $96 per night!                 He has been called haughty and proud. I never
Mr. Macready, the principal star of the season found him so in the least.
which I have just been writing about, is a great  The following letter, written (of course) withactor unquestionably, and, as I believe, a good out the slightest idea that it would ever be pubman. Of his acting I judge by effects. For six lished, will be interesting to theatrical people, if




A LETTER FROM MACREADY.


185


not to others. It is in answer to a letter I wrote
him, mentioning the fact that an old professional
associate of his-Mr. James H. Caldwell-complained to me of his (Macready's) cold treatment
when he met him in London, and afterward in
New Orleans. Mr. Caldwell had told me that
on separating many years previously in Liverpool, he had received from Mr. Macready a stage
dress as a token of regard. Here is the letter:
W. C. Macready to Sol. Smith.
"Niagara, Upper Canada, June 3, 1844.
"MY DEAR SIR,-Your kind and welcome letter lay some time at New York, awaiting my
emerging from a wild, unsettled district in that
beautiful state, where I had been to 'hunt the
flying deer.' But the deer were dear indeed;
I got no venison, but had much delightful excitement"'The woods, the mountains, and the sun,
The streams that murmur as they run,
Were there my dearest joy.'
I am now rambling about, half idle, and the other half employed, but still with very little time
on my hands, and that is my excuse for replying to you in such an apparent, and, indeed, actual hurry. My arrears of correspondence have
grown like a mountain, and now are like an avalanche suspended over and threatening to overwhelm me. You are not the first by several, my
dear sir, that have been taught to mistake me.
No man is more sensible to, nor suffers more
from self-reproach for his infirmities and errors
than myself; but 'I am richer than my base accusers, who never knew what truth meant,' and
I know that I wish to be just, and justice, in my
definition, is as comprehensive as the great
scheme of Christianity itself, which is the sublime of justice. It is a very great satisfaction to
me that you think more indulgently of me than
you had been taught to do, for I value the esteem of the estimable at its proper price. In
regard to your inquiry respecting Mr. Caldwell,
I beg to say that I was never on terms of intimacy with that gentleman; he was a stationary
performer, I an auxiliary (a considerable distance in England!) in the Dublin Theatre for
about eleven weeks, during which period I rarely saw him, and then only in the greenroomcertainly never addressed himfamiliarly in my
life, but showed that courtesy which I endeavored to practice to all respectable actors. I dare
say I gave him, with other actors, one of my
dresses, as my country wardrobe ceased to be of
use to me after that engagement, my first London
engagement beginning the September following, when the same professional gear would not
be suitable to my advanced position, and I gave
away nearly my whole wardrobe. I could tell
you the names of several to whom I had presented them. I assure you this was a mere civility
on the part of a very young man, fond of giving,
and merely indulging a disposition. The persons in the Dublin Theatre at the same time,
with whom I was on terms of greater intimacy
-and for one I entertained a friendship-to
these my demeanor never changed during their


lives. Without wishing to say an ungracious
thing of or to any person, I can not but think
that Mr. Caldwell's memory is either not so
good as mine, or that he must have construed a
mere civility (which a person about to throw
his life's fortunes on the hazard is often, I may
say superstitiollsly, prone to be lavish of) into a
testimony, which was not intended as such. I
perhaps should regret more than I do any misapprehension of Mr. Caldwell's if I had not had
reported to me his mention of my name at the
St. Charles Hotel! I can only assure you that
however he may have interpreted any behavior
of mine into the expression of a desire to be intimately acquainted, I never had such intention, nor ever meant my manner to convey such
an impression. I bowed to him in England, as
I should to any gentleman I had only professionally known for a few weeks, after the lapse
of so many years. You know I do not carry the
'hail fellow well met' address of a greenroom
into my circle of acquaintance, and that disappoints and annoys many actors, and has been one
great means of sending to you the lessons you
had been taught of me. Mr. Stephen Price has
told me of this, and I have heard something like
remarks to this effect from other theatrical people; but if my education and habits have made
me carry the same -address into a greenroom
that I do into a drawing-room, those to whom it
was distasteful have had their revenge, as your
preconceived notions of me testify. This I can
say, that the good qualities of a man's heart
make it a duty to me to grapple that man to me
-high or low, rich or poor. I honor and regard
him, and am happy in the ability to show I do.
Should I not see you again, my dear sir, before
my departure in October, I leave with you the
assurance of my cordial and lasting esteem and
regard, subscribing myself in good earnest most
sincerely yours,      W. C. MACREADY."
We had taken the Cincinnati Theatre for tlie
full season, and reopened on the 24th of August.
No use. A dead failure. To help the matter, I
felt a fever gradually creeping upon me, andbut, before saying any thing more about this fever, I will say that the fall season was worse, if
possible, than that of the summer. Logan, into
whose hands I placed the management when I
"knocked under," did all that man could do,
but all-all in vain. In vain he brought out the
FORTY THIEVES, the ICE WITCH, and other attractive pieces. The theatre closed ingloriously
on the 5th of October, several weeks earlier than
contemplated, and I have not visited Cincinnati
managerially nor professionally since. Now,
about the fever aforesaid, the truth is, I came
very near
Kicking the Bucket.
Pulse 140!- Whiew!- Whurr!
Reader, did you ever have a fever?-a regular-built, up and down, thumping fever?-a fever that carried you up, as it were, to another




186


AUTOBIOGRAPIY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


existence? I had such a fever in the fall of 1844 -September-in Cincinnati. I tried to put it off.
It wouldn't go. I went to Louisville in a steamboat, and endeavored to persuade myself, during
the night, while my pulse was rising and my
brain was becoming more and more pressed, that
I should be better in the morning. I endeavored
to transact business in Louisville, but my questions and replies were so incoherent that the
people stared at me and (for aught I know)
thought me tipsy. On the return trip, all was
pleasant enough in the afternoon, but at night,
and during the long night, thump, thump, thump
went my blood again, as though it was determined to burst through and be free.
I found myself at my brother's house on Fourth
Street, where a room is always reserved for me.
I had purchased some calomel and castor oil on
my way from the boat, and I went to taking
medicine. It did no good-the fever did not
diminish at all. At the request of my good
brother a homoeopathic physician was called in,
who attended me and administered small globules of something or other for a week-two
weeks, perhaps-probably three-"I took no
note of time." No change. My brothers and
other relations visited me frequently. I could
see by their manner they thought I must go.
They did not shake their heads, but the expression of their countenances did not at all conform
to their words of comfort and encouragement.
My sens* of hearing was fearfully acute. I
could hear them look! It was plain enough I
was given up. The doctor (Dutch at that!) said
he had been called too late; if he had only been
called in before I had taken the calomel all
would have been well, butWith the exception of a headache, which hung
to me, it was not a disagreeable month I passed
thus. The pressure on my brain caused those
about me to take the most fanciful forms and to
do the drollest things. The doctor appeared to
dance into the room, pour his useless (and harmless) medicine into water, and present me the
tumbler, dancing all the while; my sisters, my
brothers, nieces and nephews, all to appearance
about half their real height, danced about the
apartment in the most picturesque forms, all
bearing a striking resemblance to each other,
and all wearing wreaths- rocking, prancing,
bending, smiling, and attitudinizing to the tune
of-my pulse. It was very pleasant indeed:
I remember every occurrence while under the
influence of this fever with the utmost distinctness. About the eighteenth day I called the
homeeopathic doctor to my bedside and told him
I had no farther occasion for his services. He


remonstrated-the family remonstrated; but I
was firm: I would take no more of those little
globules.
My friend Logan came to see me every day.
When he found the homceopathist had retired
he urged the calling in of one of the allopathic
physicians. After some argument I consented,
and Dr. Shotwell took me in hand. I could see
plainly enough he thought the call had been put
off too long, but he prescribed for me, and in one
week I was able to sit up an hour at a time; in
two weeks I could walk, and in less than three I
embarked for St. Louis-my home.
When I began to write this article I intended
to describe some of my singular fancies, but I
shall confine myself to one strange fancy I took
into my feverish head.
It seemed to me that possibly my friends
might be right, and that I was loomed to kick
the bucket sure enough. I was away from home
-my affairs were unsettled-no preparations
made for such a feat; but yet, I thought, my
time had possibly come! The idea was not at
all unpleasant. I had shaken off all care of business, having placed it in competent hands, and
my only uneasiness arose from the TROUBLE I
was giving my kind nurses. I took up the idea
that, if I must kick the bucket, I might as well
do it in the middle of the night, when most of
the family were asleep, so that in the morning
they would find all was over with me, and the
disagreeable part of the business would be past.
I lKept thinking of this, and constantly continued
to contrive out ways and means to effect my designs without causing trouble to the family. I
knew that if I asked for a bucket to kick, they
would refuse to let me have it; so I pretended
every night that I wanted water to bathe my feet
in, and, when I had finished bathing them, I
always asked the girl to leave the bucket on a
chair beside my bed! And there I lay, night
after night, waiting for the time to come when I
should kick the bucket without troubling any
one! In the middle of the night I would laugh
heartily at my cunning contrivance, keeping the
bucket all the time within kicking distance of
my right foot, and chuckling at the idea of what
a splash I would make when I should give my last
kick!
But I recovered in spite of the doctors, honmepathic and allopathic, yet not entirely so until I got
home in St. Louis. From the effects of the quinine poured into me by Dr. Short (with the best
intentions, of course), I believe I have not yet recovered - and twenty-four years have passed.
During my sickness Logan was a constant caller,
and had a fair opportunity of knowing all about




CONFUSION OF MEDICAL NAMES.


187


my " case," and I could perceive he thought the
chances were greatly against my ever getting
well. It will be seen from the following little
sketch, which I cut out of a newspaper in 1845,
that the nature of certain medicines were sadly
mixed up in my wandering mind:
"FEBRIFUGE AND VERMIFUGE I
" By C. A. Logan.
"Sol was so desperately ill in this city last
summer that Death and he were for weeks playing at a game in which both parties were so
dead a match that the slightest false move on
either side would have fatally decided the wager.
Sol is acknowledged to be an excellent player,
but Death has had great experience in his line,
and often makes tremendous hits. Sol played,
too, at great disadvantage, having to carry on
the game on the flat of his back, while his adTersary stood bolt upright before him, displa'ying his points in the,strongest light. At length
Sol became somewhat doubtful about his next
move, and called in the aid of a celebrated physician-as skillful a man as this or any other city
can boast. 'Let me feel your pulse,' said the
doctor. Sol stretched out what in better days
had been his arm. 'Hum! you should have
sent for me before.' 'Do your best now,' replied the sick man. For a whole week there
was no appearance of amendment in poor Sol.
The doctor would come, feel his pulse, look at
his tongue, order him to take-nothing, and depart. Out of all patience, Sol said one morning,
'Give me something, doctor; don't let me lie
here and die without an effort to break the fever.' The doctor wrotea prescription. 'What's
this?' said the patient: 'I'll swallow no drugs
I don't know the ingredients of.' 'It's a febrifuge,' said the physician, briefly. 'A what?'
'A febrifuge.' 'Febrifuge! febrifuge!' repeated
the patient, slowly and musingly. ' Hum! and
you have been coming here daily for a week, and
you now give me a febrifuge. Be good enough
to hand me that purse on the table-thank you
-how much is your fee?' The doctor stared.
'How much do I owe you, I say? You don't
understand my case, and I will insist on your
leaving me.' 'Mr. Smith-' exclaimed the doctor, fearing the fever had disordered his head.
' Stop!' said Sol; 'you won't take the money?
Then send in your bill and retire, I beg of you.'
The physician looked with commiseration on
the suffering man, but, observing the fire flash
from his sunken sockets, withdrew with a haughty bow.
"Half an hour afterward Logan came in, and
found Sol repeating in every variety of indignant tone, ' Febrifuge! febrifuge! the ignorant
quack! give me febrifuge! What do you think,
Logan? that licensed assassin, after considering
my case for a week, has just found out that I'm
troubled with worms, and has prescribed a febrifuge! Worms! who ever heard of any body
but molasses-candy- sucking children having
worms?'
"'Febrifuge! worms!' said Logan, in surprise; 'haven't you made some mistake? Febrifuge is any medicine intended to cure fevers;


aren't you thinking of vermifuge? 'I I Oh LordP
groaned Sol-' vermifuge-that's what I meant;
I've made a mistake; call back that doctor-I
must beg his pardon. But why, in the name of
heaven, don't they give Christian names to their
drugs?I II
I close this chapter with a pen-sketch, which,
with some other scribblings of mine, has been
thought worthy of a place in BURTON'S CYCLOPIEDIA OF WIT AND HUMOR.
Tom," the Man at the Curtain."
(Written in 184.)
Tom is a character. I remember him when
he was a chubby little red-haired boy; he is now
a -very large, freckle-faced man. I can not call
to mind my first acquaintance with him; indeed,
I don't believe, when I come to think of it, that
I have any acquaintance with him. AR I know
of him is, ever since I can remember, he has been
within call, and has obeyed every order given
with the most scrupulous exactness and at every
hazard. Tom is always about the theatre. By
some chance or other, he was placed. ten or fiiteen years ago, " at the curtain" in St. Louisthat is to say, he was required on some emergency to turn the wheel which draws up the curtain, and he has stuck to that wheel ever since!
When I say that wheel, I do not mean the veritable wheel that he was first placed at-no; he
has followed the company to every place and to
all places, and has turned every wheel of every
curtain that has been drawn up by order and by
the direction of the writer of this sketch, through
all the turnings of Fortune's wheel during a series
of eventful years. The old theatre on Second
Street, commonly called the " Salt-house, was
probably the first scene of Tom's official duties.
There he was, for years, perched upon a platform about six feet above the prompter's head,
grinning at the plays, and ready, without warning, to obey the bell. He was a fixture-always
there, and never out of the way when wanted.
This was not all. At an early age, I remember
he was very watchful of the other officials behind
the scenes, and every neglect of duty was duly
noticed by Tom, and a juvenile cursing was duly
administered to every delinquent. All bore with
him-all liked Tom.
A new theatre was built in Mobile in 1835.
In the hurry of business we neglected to employ
a man to raise the curtain; nevertheless at the
ringing of the bell, the curtain went up-Tom
was there. I do not know to this day how Tom
in those days obtained his bread. He slept in
the theatre-up by the curtain wheel.
The new St. Louis Theatre was erected in 1837.


aren't you thinking of vermifuge?' ' Oh Lord!'
groaned Sol-' vermifuge-that's what I meant;
I've made a mistake; call back that doctor-I
must beg his pardon. But why, in the name of
heaven, don't they give Christian names to their
drugs?' "
I close this chapter with a pen-sketch, which,
with some other scribblings of mine, has been
thought worthy of a place in BURTON'S CYCLOPIEDIA OF WIT AND HUMOR.
Tom, "the Man at the Curtain."
(Written in 1844.)
Tom is a character. I remember him when
he was a chubby little red-haired boy; he is now
a very large, freckle-faced man. I can not call
to mind my first acquaintance with him; indeed,
I don't believe, when I come to think of it, that
I have any acquaintance with him. All I know
of him is, ever since I can remember, he has been
within call, and has obeyed every order given
with the most scrupulous exactness and at every
hazard. Tom is always about the theatre. By
some chance or other, he was placed, ten or fifteen years ago, " at the curtain" in St. Louisthat is to say, he was required on some emergency to turn the wheel which draws up the curtain, and he has stuck to that wheel ever since!
When I say that wheel, I do not mean the veritable wheel that he was first placed at-no; he
has followed the company to every place and to
all places, and has turned every wheel of every
curtain that has been drawn up by order and by
the direction of the writer of this sketch, through
all the turnings of Fortune's wheel during a series
of eventful years. The old theatre on Second
Street, commonly called the "Salt-house," was
probably the first scene of Tom's official duties.
There he was, for years, perched upon a platform about six feet above the prompter's head,
grinning at the plays, and ready, without warning, to obey the bell. He was a fixture-always
there, and never out of the way when wanted.
This was not all. At an early age, I remember
he was very watchful of the other officials behind
the scenes, and every neglect of duty was duly
noticed by Tom, and a juvenile cursing was duly
administered to every delinquent. All bore with
him-all liked Tom.
A new theatre was built in Mobile in 1835.
In the hurry of business we neglected to employ
a man to raise the curtain; nevertheless, at the
ringing of the bell, the curtain went up-Tom
was there. I do not know to this day how Tom
in those days obtained his bread. He slept in
the theatre-up by the curtain wheel.
The new St. Louis Theatre was erected in 1837.




188


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


Tom obeyed the bell, and has taken his station at the wheel and drawn up the curtain every
night of every season since. In 1840 another
new theatre was built in Mobile, and Tom having been detained (with me) on the voyage down
the Mississippi, he and I were not present Qn the
opening night, so another man was unthinkingly
engaged to raise the curtain. On the second
night of performance, while the overture was
being played, I heard a slight bustle above my
head, and was about inquiring into the cause of
the disturbance, when a human body fell at my
feet nearly senseless-it was the new curtain
man! I looked up, and behold, Tom's face was
peeping out from among the pulleys and ropes
like a large pumpkin from its own vines.
"Halloo above there!" I hailed.
"Ay, ay, sir!" answered Tom.
" What's the meaning of this?" I inquired.
"The meaning is, sir," replied Tom, "that
the fellow who lies there was interloping, sirpretended he was engaged in my place! ho! ho!
ho!"
I pacified the knocked-down individual and
sent him away, leaving Tom in quiet and undisputed possession of his elevated post.
How did Tom travel? He was always on the
boats that I traveled on; always looking out for
the freight; always seeing to its embarkation
and debarkation, and always cursing those who
neglected their duty. He was the last to leave
the theatre at the closing of a season, and the
first to enter it on commencing a campaign. If
any one was at a loss for a key, "Where's Tom?"
was the first inquiry. Tom could tell all about
the keys; Tom could open every door.
After a number of years' close attention to
business, Tom hinted that he was now "big
enough" to receive a salary-so Tom's salary for
raising the curtain was fixed at three dollars per
week; but he earned something more by carrying
to and from the theatre the bundles and boxes
of the performers.
In latter years Tom has been doing a pretty
good business. He has earned, on an average,
besides his salary for turning the wheel, about
four dollars per week. Without orders, he takes
the place of any one who happens to be absent,
either from sickness or other cause.
On salary-days, Tom's face is seen at twelve
o'clock peeping through the banisters of the
stairs leading to the director's room.
"Well, Tom, what do we owe you this week?"
" Why, sir," replies Tom, " I have been property-man two days, that's three dollars; second
carpenter four nights, eight dollars; paint-grinder half a day, fifty cents; back-doorkeeper one


night, one dollar; and gas man two nights and
part of another, four dollars-in all, sixteen dollars and fifty cents; my salary added, makes
nineteen dollars and fifty cents, sir."
"Very well, Tom, there it is."
"Thank you, sir!" Exit Tom, who is immediately after heard down in the vestibule, "Look
here, you d-d loafers! See how a gentleman is
paid for his services. Go up and get your paltry
ten dollars a week-you are actors! ho! ho!
ho! ho! But I'll be liberal; come down with
me to the Shades, and I'll treat you all!"
To while away the time on board of steamboats, we have frequently established Courts of
"Uncommon Pleas." The mandates of these
courts are generally obeyed with alacrity by the
passengers; but once in a while a contumacious
individual is found who can not enjoy a joke, and
who objects to be "fooled with." Whenever it
has been my fortune to be appointed judge, I
have stipulated that the sheriff should appoint
Tom one of his deputies; and woe to the man
who attempted to resist him. A word from me
was enough for Tom. "Bring such a one before the court." Ay, ay, sir," Tom would answer, and a "return forthwith" would be made
of the corpus required, sometimes minus a coat,
which would be sacrificed in the useless struggle.
I verily believe, if I should command Tom to
throw a man overboard, he would not hesitate a
moment to obey me!
Tom can speak French as well as English, and
can read and write very well in both languages,
though where he learned to do any thing except
carry baskets for the performers and wind up
curtains I can not tell.
Tom's appearance is very much like what we
may suppose was that of the " Dougal creature"
in Scott's Rob Roy.
A couple of years ago Tom had some money
left him by a relative-no one knew till then that
Tom ever had a relative-and, after dressing himself in the best suit that could be had at Martin's, he spent the whole legacy in hiring horses!
taking especial care, however, to be at his post in
time to wind up the curtain each night.
In the summer of 1843 there occurred a long
vacation. On reopening, the bell was rung as
usual, and '(of course) the curtain rose; but it
rose slowly-very slowly. "What can this
mean?" I asked the master carpenter. "I believe, sir," replied Ellsworth, "Tom is not well
-he got in late-he appears hurt." I ascended
the winding stairs to the wheel, and there lay
poor Tom, holding on to the crank, which he
had not been able to make fast, pale and haggard, and his skin hanging about his bones like




PREACHING, PRAYING, AND CARD-PLAYING.


189


-like-I can't think of a simile; but his appearance bore about as much resemblance to his
former self as a raisin bears to a ripe grape.
"Why, what's the matter with you, Tom?" I
asked, soothingly, after relieving him of the
crank. " What is the matter with you?"
Tom looked up gratefully into my face, and
replied, "Ah! sir, they've played the d-l with
my innards-stabbed me in eleven places!"
" Who have played the d-1 with you? who
have stabbed you?"  "Those cursed Mexicans,
sir-the traders. I started with 'em for Santa
Fe, just to fill up the vacation; but I hadn't gone
more than seven hundred miles beyond Independence when the infernal dark-skinned rascals
picked a quarrel with me because I wouldn't
worship the Virgin every morning, and all stuck
their knives into me."
Poor Tom!
"And didn't you wound any of them?" I
asked.
"Wound any of 'em?" echoed Tom. "Well,
I believe you! I WOUND THREE OF THEM UP!
They'll never worship any more Virgins in this
world, I believe," he answered.
Tom recovered, and he continues to wind up
the curtain nightly!
CHAPTER X.
THE New Orleans season of 1844-5, the worst
of all seasons I was ever concerned in (always
excepting that of Mobile in 1839-40), commenced November 23. As a specimen of the
business of the St. Charles, I record the miserable receipts of the first week: Saturday-WIVES
AS THEY WERE AND MAIDS AS THEY ARE, with
an afterpiece, $184; Sunday- PILOT, DUMB
BELLE, and A ROLAND FOR AN OLIVER, $177;
Monday-TOWN AND COUNTRY and A LADY
AND GENTLEMAN IN A PECULIARLY PERPLEXING PREDICAMENT, $88; Tuesday-(Never acted) MARY TUDOR and NEW FOOTMAN, $68;
Wednesday-WIFE and MR. AND MRS. WHITE,
$70; Thursday-second night of MARY TUDOR
and FORTUNE'S FROLIC, $69; Friday- (Benefit of the author) MARY TUDOR and MIDDY
ASHORE, $84. Total receipts for the week,
$743-a loss sustained of about $1400! Not
very encouraging, you will probably think. But
the next week was worse, for it only yielded
$660; and the third worse still, $494. I am
not going to pursue this theme. After seven
weeks it became absolutely necessary that I
should go to St. Louis for the purpose of raising
funds to carry the season through; so, leaving


the reins of management in the hands of J. M.
Weston, I started up the river in a boat commanded by Captain Summons, a real jolly old
Cincinnatian.
Breaking a Bank.
Captain Summons was a very clever fellow,
and the " Dr. Franklin" was a very superb boat,
albeit inclined to rock about a good deal, and
nearly turn over on her side when visited by a
breath of air in the least resembling a gale. Captain Summons was a clever fellow. All steamboat captains are clever fellows, or nearly all;
but what I mean to say is, Captain Summons
was a particularly clever fellow; a clever fellow
in the widest sense of the term; a fellow that is
clever in everyway-anxious that his passengers
shall be comfortably bestowed, well fed and well
attended to, and determined that they shall amuse
themselves "just as they d-n please," as the
saying is. If he happened to have preachers on
board, he put on a serious countenance of a Sunday morning, consented that there should be
preaching, ordered the chairs to be set out, and
provided Bibles and hymn-books for the occasion, himself and officers, whose watch was below, taking front seats and listening attentively
to the discourse. Likely as not, at the close of
the service, he would ask the reverend gentleman
who had been officiating, with his back in close
proximity to a hot fire in a Franklin furnace, to
accompany him to the bar and join him in some
refreshments! If there were passengers on board
who desired to pass away the time in playing
poker, euchre, brag, or whist, tables and chairs
were ready for them too-poker, brag, euchre,
and whist be it! All sorts of passengers were
accommodated on the Dr. Franklin; the rights
of none were suffered to be infringed; all were
free to follow such employments as should please
themselves. A dance in the evening was a very
common occurrence on this boat, and when cotillons were on the carpet the captain was sure to
be thar.
It sometimes happened that, at the commencement of a voyage, it was found somewhat difficult to reconcile all the passengers to the system
of Captain Summons, which was founded on the
broad principle of equal rights to all.
On the occasion of my voyage in the "Doctor," in December, 1844, I found myself surrounded by a crowd of passengers who were entire strangers to me-a very rare occurrence to
one who travels so often on the Western rivers
as I do. I wished my absence from New Orleans to be as brief as possible, and the "Dcc



190


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


tor" was the fastest boat in port at the time of
my leaving the Crescent City; so I resolved to
secure a berth in her, and trust to luck to find a
St. Louis boat at the Mouth.
I don't know how it is or why it is, but by
strangers I am almost always taken for a PREACHER. It was so on this voyage. There were two
Methodist circuit riders on board, and it happened that we got acquainted and were a good
deal together, from which circumstance I was
supposed to be one of them, which supposition was
the means of bringing me into an acquaintance
with the female passengers, who, for the most
part, were very pious, religiously-inclined souls.
We had preaching every day, and sometimes at
night; and I must say, in justice to Brothers
Twitchell and Switchell, that their sermons were
highly edifying and instructive.
In the mean time a portion of the passengers
" at the other end of the hall" continued to play
sundry games with cards, notwithstanding the
remonstrances of the worthy followers of Wesley, who frequently requested the captain to interfere and break up such unholy doings. The
captain had but one answer-it was something
like this: " Gentlemen, amuse yourselves as you
like; preach and pray to your hearts' contentnone shall interfere with your pious purposes;
some like that sort of thing-I have no objection to it. These men prefer to amuse themselves with cards; let them; they pay their passages as well as you, gentlemen, and have as
much right to their amusements as you have to
yours, and they shall not be disturbed. Preach,
play cards, dance cotillons, do what you like, I
am agreeable; only understand that all games
(preaching among the rest) must cease at 10
o'clock."  So we preachers got very little comfort from Captain Summons.
Up, up, up, up we went. Christmas day arrived. All the other preachers had holden forth
on divers occasions, and it being ascertained that
it was my intention to leave the boat on her arrival at Cairo, a formal request was preferred
that I should preach the Christmas sermon! The
women (God bless them all!) were very urgent
in their applications to me. "Oh do, Brother
Smith; we want to hear you preach. All the
others have contributed their share to our spiritual comfort-you must oblige us-indeed you
must." I endeavored to excuse myself the best
way I could, alleging the necessity of my leaving
the boat in less than an hour-my baggage was
not ready-I had a terrible cold, and many other good and substantial reasons were given, but
all in vain; preach I must. " Well," thinks I,
" if I must, I must." At this crisis, casting my


eyes down toward the Social Hall, and seeing an
unusual crowd assembled around a table, I asked
one of the brethren what might be going on down
there.  The fattest of the preaching gentlemen
replied, " The poor miserable sinners have filled
the measure of their iniquity by opening a FARO
BANK!" " Horrible!" exclaimed I, holding up my
hands, and "horrible!" echoed the women and
missionaries in. full chorus. " Can not such doings be put a stop to?" asked an elderly female,
addressing the pious travelers.  "I fear not,"
groaned my Methodist colleague (the fat one).
"We have been trying to convince the captain
that some dreadful accident will inevitably befall
the boat if such proceedings are permitted, and
what do you think he answered?"  "}What?"
we all asked, of course. "Why, he just said
that, inasmuch as he permitted us to preach and
pray, he should let other passengers dance and
play, if they chose to do so; and that, if I didn't
like the 'proceedings' complained of, I might
leave the boat! Yes, he did; and, moreover,
he mentioned that it was 11 o'clock, and asked me if I wouldn't 'liquor!'"  This announcement of the captain's stubbornness and impiety was met with a general groan of pity and
sorrow, and we resumed the conversation respecting the unhallowed faro bank. "It is
much to be regretted," remarked the gentlewoman who had spoken before, "that something
can't be done. Brother Smith," she continued,
appealing directly to me, and laying her forefinger impressively upon my arm, " can not you
break up that bank?" "Dear madam," I answered, "you know not the difficulty of the task
you impose upon me; FARO BANKS ARE NOT SO
EASILY BROKEN UP as you may imagine; however, as you all appear so anxious about it, if
you'll excuse me from preaching the sermon I'll
see what can be done."  "Ah! that's a dear
soul!"  "I knew he would try!"   "He'll be
sure to succeed!" "Our prayers shall not be
wanting!" Such were the exclamations that
greeted me as I moved off toward the faro bank.
Elbowing my way into the crowd, I got near the
table in front of the dealer, and was for a time
completely concealed from the view of my pious
friends near the door of the ladies' cabin. I
found the bank was a small affair. The betters
were risking trifling sums, ranging from six to
twenty-five cents.
"Mr. Dealer," I remarked, "I have come to
break up this bank."  "The deuce you have!"
replied the banker; "let's see you do it."
"What amount have you in bank?" I inquired.
"Eleven dollars," was his answer. "What is
your limit?" asked I. "A dollar," he replied.




BREAKING A BANK.


191


"Very well," said I, placing a ragged Indiana
dollar behind the queen-" turn on." He turned, and the king won for me. I took the two
dollars up and let him make another turn, when
I replaced the bet, and the queen came up in my
favor. I had now four dollars, which I placed
in the square, taking in the 5, 6, 7, and 8, and it
won again! Here were seven dollars of the
banker's money. I pocketed three of them, and
bet four dollars behind the queen again; the
jack won, and the BANK WAS BROKEN! The
crowd dispersed in all directions, laughing at the
breaking up of the petty bank, and I made my
way toward the ladies' cabin, where my new
friends were anxiously awaiting the result of my
bold attempt. " Well, well, well," they all exclaimed, "what success? Have you done it?
Do let us hear all about it!" I wiped the perspiration from my brow, and, putting on a very
serious face, I said solemnly, "I HAVE BROKEN
THAT BANK!" "You have?" they all exclaimed. "Yes, I'll be d-d if he hasn't!" muttered
the disappointed gamester, the keeper of the late
bank, who was just going into his state-room.
In the midst of the congratulations which were
showered upon me, I received a summons from
the captain to come forward with my baggagewe were at Cairo.
Disembarking from the "Doctor" at Cairo, I
wended my way, in company with a jolly company of drovers, and in a common road wagon,
the only conveyance to be had, through snow,
sleet, and rain, over the bleak prairies of Illinois,
to St. Louis, which city we reached in five days.
Here I remained about a week with my family,
during which time I made the necessary " raise"
of funds for the New Orleans requirements by
mortgaging property.
It happened that the third payment was 4lue
the city for the 4~ acres of land I had purchased
a few years previously in the city commons, and,
on a cold January morning, I started down Second Street for Mr. Provenciere's office to pay it.
The amount was small, and the payment of that
and one more instalment would entitle me to a
deed from the city; yet, in my solitary walk, I
began to doubt whether I ought to go on and
complete the payment! It seemed a hopeless
task to attempt to get through the pecuniary difficulties which surrounded me. "All must go,"
said my evil genius. " All must go-let your
land go-let all go, and leave this money with
your wife to get wood and provisions for the winter, which is going to be a very cold one." I
listened to the fiend (I thought of Launcelot


Gobbo in the play), and actually turned around
and commenced walking northwardly toward my
home! I had no sooner made this turn than
my good genius, " hanging round the neck of
my heart," said, " Don't go back without paying
that money to Provenciere! You are within two
squares of his office. Pay it! Times are going
to change; it is always darkest before day. Your
seven years of ill luck are almost past; there
will be a turn in your affairs next year, see if
there isn't! Pay Provenciere, and trust to luck
to get through your theatrical difficulties; this
sum is but a drop in the bucket to pay your New
Orleans debts with. You have raised several
thousand dollars to take South. Take this small
sum - the firm owes you twenty times that
amount-and secure your commons lot; it is
going to be valuable." The fiend tried to get in
a word or two, but I couldn't hear him, for at
that moment came such a blow from old Boreas
that it was impossible to proceed a step farther
north for a minute or two, during which minute
or two my good genius threw in a few words
which decided me. I turned toward Provenciere's, and did not listen to a word my evil genius
had to say until I had made the payment, and
then I laughed at him. I will close up the account of this little land speculation when I come
to write of better times.
I went back to New Orleans with a full purse
(of borrowed money), and paid off all salaries
due, some of which had gone behind eleven
weeks.
The only stars that were attractive this season
were James R. Anderson and the Seguin Opera
Troupe, and their attraction was only moderate.
Anderson played Claude Melnotte to some tolerably good houses. We produced the FAIR ONE
WITH THE GOLDEN LOCKS, DON C2ESAR DE
BAZAN, and FAUSTUS in good style-all without
avail. The total receipts of the season were
only $22,446 (twenty weeks), while the expenses could not have been very much short of
$50,000. In debt "deeper and deeper still;"
but I felt as if this was our last bad season in
New Orleans, and that on the following 20th of
November-seven years from the date of the
burning of the St. Emanuel Theatre in Mobilea favorable change would take place in the business, and we should rise from our misfortunes,
pay all our debts, and be once more free.
I here give one of several letters received from
Mrs. Ewing (formerly Miss Hamblin), the woiman who killed her husband in the Mobile Theatre, as related in a letter from Mr. Buckstone in
1842:




192


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


LETTER FROM A REPENTANT MURDERESS.
Charlotte Ewing to Sol. Sm7ith.
"New Orleans, May 25, 1845.
" MR. SOL. SMITH: DEAR SIR,-I wrote to you
last winter, and sent the letter by Mr. Ewing,
my husband's father —the sorrowing and bereaved father. You refused to see me. Had
you come, I would have thrown myself at your
feet, and, with streaming eyes and a bursting
heart, begged you for an engagement-for something to do to support myself and father honestly. And now I beg, as you are a father, a
husband-as you have children of your ownoh, in mercy, give me something to do! I may
have done wrong, but oh! in mercy, do not you
cast me off. Give me, I beg you, a chance to
regain what I have lost. If you have cause to
complain of me, then cast me off, and give me
that name I think I was not born to bear. I am
most friendless and heart-broken. You knew
me when I was happy- oh! do not desert me
in my misery. I have no one to speak for meno one to say a word in my behalf. I feel as
though my heart would break. I do not ask
you to believe my simple word, but try me; put
me to the test. Let me come and work in the, theatre. Give me any thing you please-I will
not complain. On my knees I beg and pray
you-with heart-broken anguish, believe me. If
the whole world curse me, oh! do not you desert me. My heart will break. I turned me on
all and every side, and every one shrinks from
me as from a leper whose every breath comes
filled with pestilence and disease. Tell me, is
this the way to win a woman back to virtue?
is this the way to succor a friendless and unprotected woman? Oh! what shall I do if you refuse me your countenance?
"Pray, pray write me that you will see me
next winter, for I am  an outcast and heartbroken woman. I have not a friend in the wide
world. Save me-oh! save me from despair,
and I will pray God to bless you forever; for I
will stand firm in the right path, if you will give
me an opportunity.
"Respectfully,   CHARLOTTE EWING.7"
Mr. and Mrs. Hart were members of the company this winter season. I had known Mr.
Hart in New York State as long ago as 1825.
He was my successor in the management of the
Georgia theatres and the theatre in Montgomery,
Ala. Mrs. Hart was the Miss Carter who, with
her father and mother, traveled with me in
1831-2 through West Tennessee, Alabama, and
Georgia.
The season at the American Theatre, under
the management of Mueller & Place, burst up
prematurely, as all seasons had since it was rebuilt.
I don't remember much about the season of
1845 in St. Louis, but there was no very favorable change.
This summer (if I remember rightly-I can't
find any memoranda to guide me), leaving the


theatrical affairs to be mostly conducted, in the
details, by my partner, I spent in the practice of
the law, confining myself, in a great measure, to
the Criminal and Recorder's courts. The circuit attorney, Mr. Hall, being called away on
business a week or two before the close of the
term then being held, I was appointed temporarily to fill his place, which I did to the close
of the term. I did some pettifogging too, as
practicing before justices of the peace is called.
One case before Justice Walsh I must report.
A Hung Jury.
Many of our old citizens will remember Noah
Ridgely, as good and true a man as ever acted
as clerk of a boat and collected freight-bills.
Wherever the steamer Hannibal made a landing
(and where is the landing between St. Louis and
New Orleans she has not stopped at?), Noah has
been seen and known at some time or other;
but in St. Louis-well, there's no use writing
how well he was known here. And, wherever
known, Noah was a favorite-I might say a great
favorite. He had been clerk of the aforesaid
Hannibal for I don't know how many years, and
during all those years he went round to the consignees at the end of each voyage to collect the
freight - bills. So, as I have intimated, every
body knew Noah Ridgely, and liked him.
But to my story. In St. Louis we all know
the difficulty of procuring jurors to try cases before justices of the peace, it being almost next
to an impossibility to get together twelve citizens, " good men and true," who are willing to
sit for two or three hours in a justice's office,
which is never, by any accident, larger than a
moderate-sized bandbox, surrounded by a promiscuous crowd, which always gathers, filling up
room, doors, and windows whenever a "jurytrial" is to come off, especially if lawyers are
employed in it.
It so happened, " once upon a time," that two
merchants had a little misunderstanding, which
resulted in their "going to law" before Justice
Walsh. The amount in dispute was a mere
trifle, but each was obstinate, and would not give
way a jot, so to law they went. To make ratters worse, each must have a lawyer to help him
on, and one of the lawyers, determined to make
as much out of the case as he could, asserted the
constitutional right of his client, and demanded
a jury. A venirefacias was accordingly issued,
and Constable Busby started off to execute his
writ.
At the expiration of about an hour, during
which the court, attorneys, and spectators waited




A HUNG JURY.


193


with exemplary patience, Busby returned, followed by one solitary individual, carrying a huge
lot of freight-bills in one hand, and a half-smoked
cigar in the other. It was Noah.
"Have you summoned the jury, Mr. Constable?" inquired the justice.
"Yes, sir," replied Busby, throwing down
upon the table his writ with the names of twelve
citizens inscribed thereon; "I have summoned
them, but they won't come."
"Won't come? won't come?" remarked the
justice. "We'll see about that. Clerk, write
out attachments for these gentlemen. How
many are there who refuse to obey the order of
the Court?"
" Eleven, your honor," answered the sweating
constable.  "This is the only one of the lot'
(pointing to our friend Noah) "I have been
able to scare up, and he don't seem much disposed to serve; says he intends to plead his
]rivikleje."
" What privilege, pray, Mr. Ridgely, have you
to plead? What valid reason can you give the
Court why you should not serve on this jury?"
asked the justice.
"I believe," replied Noah, stretching himself
up to his full height, and taking the cigar from
his mouth which he had been industriously
smoking since he entered the office, "I believe
a fireman is exempt from jury duty?"
"Certainly, certainly," replied the justice.
"But I was not aware you belonged to either
of the engine companies. May I ask, Mr.
Ridgely, which engine you run with?"
"Which engine? The old St. Louis! You
are aware, perhaps, Mr. Justice, that the old
steamer St. Louis had two engines.  One of
them constitutes at this time the motive power
of the Hannibal, and that is the engine I run
with; and when hard pushed for hands, I have,
upon occasion, acted asfireman, therefore I suppose I'm excused from jury duty."
"Not so fast, my friend," interposed the justice; " this will not excuse you-"
"Not!" exclaimed Noah, with apparent surprise. " Then," he continued, taking a seat on
the jury-bench, "bring on your case, since I am
overruled, and let us get through with it as soon
as we can, for I'll be hanged if I stop long."
Busby at this juncture returned from another
unsuccessful foray through the neighboring streets
and alleys. "Can't scare up a single man," he
rep)orted, sitting down and wiping the perspiration from his face with a cotton pocket-handkerchief which he carried in his hat.
"What is to be done?" inquired the lawyers.
"I am sure I don't know," answered Justice
N


Walsh, "unless you choose to take Mr. Ridgely
here, and let him decide your case."
As the laws of Missouri permit parties by mutual consent to take "any number less than
twelve" in civil cases before justices of the peace,
the lawyers, finding there was no chance of
"scaring up" any more jurors, agreed to take
Noah as the jury, and, after a few modest cljections on his part, he was sworn in, and assigned
a seat in the centre of the jury-bench.
"Come, now, boys," remarked the solitary
juror on taking his seat, "hurry up these cakes;
I've got all these freight-bills to collect, and confound me if I can stay here long for any body."
The lawyers made short work of the evidence,
"not wishing to fatigue the jury," and proposed
to submit the case without argument.
The justice thought this was a very good plan
-it was near dinner-time-and suggested that
perhaps the jury was ready to give a verdict
without leaving his seat, when the jury spoke as
follows:'
" May it please the court, the jury is not ready
to give a verdict. This is an important matter
-a matter involving but a small sum, it is true,
but the principle to be settled by our decision
here to-day is one which interests the whole city,
the state, the United States-I may say the whole
commercial world! The jury, at great inconvenience, has been dragged here and compelled to sit
in judgment. The evidence being through, this
jury would like to hear the argument of counsel."
"Very well," answered the counsel for the
defense, and immediately poured forth a torrent
of eloquence in favor of the side he espoused,
which must have had a convincing effect in the
right quarter, for when the learned gentleman
resumed his seat, the jury expressed himself
ready to render a verdict; but the attorney for
the plaintiff now insisted upon being heard, and
accordingly set forth his view of the case in such
vivid colors that the jury, before he had finished
his hour's speech, had evidently relapsed into a
state of doubt and uncertainty.
"If the court pleases," remarked the jury,
"before this last speech a verdict might have
been given which would have satisfied one of the
parties at least; now, it is impossible; this last
speech has turned every thing topsy-turvy. There
are some points on which the jury must request
the instructions of the court."
The instructions were given, and' it was generally supposed that a verdict would be rendered
at once, as the dinner-bells were now ringing ou;
in every direction; but not so; thejury preferred
to retire and consider upon its verdict; and as all




194


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


parties, except the jury, seemed about obeying
the summons of the bells, a hint was delicately
given that it would be no more than proper, and,
indeed, humane, that the jury should be furnished
with refreshments. The hint was seized upon
by the attorneys, and two very abundant dinners
were in a few minutes passed in through the
window from the neighboring Jefferson House,
the justice, constables, lawyers, and spectators
having left the office in possession of the jury,
according to the custom of those times.
After dinner the crowd gradually reassembled


dent, from appearances, that the jury had not yet
ayreed.
At six o'clock, under instructions from Justice
Walsh, the constable inquired, as is usual in similar cases, "Has the jury agreed?" A solemn
"'No" was the response, and soon after candles
were brought and placed upon the table by the
constable, who, after lingering a moment in
hopes of an intimation that a verdict had been
agreed on, was waved out of the room by the
jury. From a quarter past 6 until 11 o'clock
the jury cogitated without any result. At length


-77


THE JURY CONSIDERING OF ITS VERDICT.


in the street, and through the open window the
imperturbable jury was seen with one leg cocked
over the knee of the other, looking carefully over
the " authorities" which had been referred to by
the lawyers; then changing his position, and
putting the leg which had been under on top, the
upper wall of the room was scanned with great
earnestness for a few minutes, after which a
large volume containing the statutes of Missouri
was diligently consulted, and so on. It was evi

Busby was ordered to summon the jury into
court, which was done by opening the outer door
and admitting the justice and crowd into the
presence of the jury.
There sat the jury, as undecided as at dinnertime.
" Gentleman of the jury," said the justice, majestically, "have you agreed upon your verdict?"
"May it please the court," answered Noah.




AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF THE OLD "SCIOTO."


195


with great dignity, " I believe it is customary to
poll the jury before asking that question."
"Very well," replied the justice, who, it must
be confessed, was becoming a little fretful-" poll
away."
Busby polled the jury, calling out from his
list,
"No-ah Ridgely!"
"Here!" answered the jury.
"All right," reported Busby to the justice.
"Now, then-the jury being polled-gentleman of the jury," repeated the justice, slowly,
"have-you-agreed-upon-your-verdict?"
"May-it-please -the- court-NO!" answered Noah, rising, and shaking his head emphatically
"Is there any likelihood of the jury being
able to agree?" demanded Justice Walsh, desperately.
"Not the least ghost of a chance," replied the
person addressed: "THE JURY IS HUNG!"
A dismissal of the jury followed, and a new
trial was ordered. The hero of my sketch was
ever after, by general consent, considered exempt
from jury duty.
Having occasion to go to New Orleans during
the summer on some law business, I took passage on the magnificent steamer Missouri, Captain Geo. Taylor and Clerk Twitchell. The second day out one of those detentions took place
which in those days were frequently experienced
by travelers by water in summer time. During
this detention I heard (or thought I heard) a
pitiful story from one who had seen better days,
which I will proceed to give:
Bewailing of a Barge.
"Fast on a sand-bar! no getting her off tonight." Such was the remark that passed around
among the passengers on board the magnificent
Missouri, as her stern swung down stream, while
the muddy Mississippi water began to gurgle under her hull, and between it and an old barge
fastened alongside. The afternoon was one of
decided leisure for the passengers. Some played
cards, others discussed the likelihoods of a Mexican war. For my own part, I passed the afternoon in reading a bucketful of old newspapers.
I went early to bed, but could not sleep, in consequence of a violent creaking of the barge alongside. It was a kind of mournful creak, and it
disturbed me considerably. At length I felt the
" gentle influence" coming over me, and I promised myself a good night's rest. Just before I lost
myself, however, I thought I heard a knocking at
the outer door. "Who's there?" I demanded, ris

ing in my bed. " Come out here," replied a voice
which appeared to be a mixture of a groan and
a creak; " come out on the guards a moment; I
want to consult you." I obeyed the summons instantly, "for," said I to myself, " it won't do to
neglect the chance of aefe." As I opened my
door the same voice asked, " You are a lawyer,
ar'n't you?" I could see no one, but I answered,
"Yes, I pass for one." "Well," said the voice,
"I want your assistance." "But where are
you?" I asked. "Here alongside," replied the
voice. "Alongside of what?" I inquired. "Alongside of the Missouri-here-don't you see me?the barge. Hush! Sit down, and I'll tell you my
case." I was very much puzzled; I doubted
whether I was not dreaming; however, I determined to hear the "case," and, taking an
arm-chair, intimated that I was listening. After a creak or two, the voice proceeded as follows:
" You see before you the wreck of what was
once the proud steamer Scioto.
"My keel was laid at Ripley, Ohio, in the fall
of 1839. Early in the spring of'40 I was launched and towed down to Fulton, where I received
my engine and boilers on board. I began to
breathe (that is to say, steam was 'let on' me) in
June, and proudly I commenced my first downward trip, loaded to my guards with the produce
of the Miami Valley, consisting of pork, potatoes, flour, whisky, and some live poultry. Captain Haggerty was proud of me, and at that time
I was proud of him. I obeyed his every wish; a
mere touch of the pilot's wheel was sufficient for
me; I was young and active, full of hope for the
future, and anxious to perform my duties faithfully and fearlessly, as a good boat ought, not
doubting that in my old age I should be taken
care of, or at least be suffered to repose at some
respectable landing as a wharf-boat.
" I made many voyages, greatly to the satisfaction and profit of my owners. I was contented with my situation, and all hands seemed
pleased with me. I never complained of the
quick trips the captain compelled me to make,
never blew him up, never collapsed a flue in my
life; I was devoted to the interests of my commander and owners; night and day I kept going, going, and I felt happy that I was enriching
those who had brought me into existence. All
went on pleasantly for three years. I began to
feel the effects of age and high pressure, but still
complained not. After a rest of a few days at
Louisville I always felt my energies return with
full vigor, and as the 'last bell' rang I was fired
up with new courage, my steam rose high within
me, and, if it had not been for Evans's safety




1.)96


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


guard, I verily believe I should have burst
through all restraints, and convinced all hands
that-I was nearly as good as new.
"Alas! how shall I relate the melancholy
casualty which reduced me from a proud Ohio
steamer to the miserable wreck you see me? In
the midst of my usefulness-in my pride of boathood-with all my ' works' in good order, and on
the eve of departure for the lower country, was I
cut off and reduced to cinders! A fire broke out
in my blacksmith shop, caused by the end of a
cigar carelessly thrown by a 'striker' among
some rubbish in a corner, and, before the danger
was discovered by the watchman, I was all in a
blaze. I will not attempt to describe to you, Mr.
Attorney, the pangs I experienced that night,
but you can imagine what must have been my
feelings with an inward fire consuming me. After considerable exertion on the part of the crew,
assisted by the firemen of Cincinnati and Covington, who played into my hold an hour or
more, I was put out. But oh, what a miserable creature I now felt myself to be! My cabins
completely consumed-my ruined engines and
boilers standing on my cindered lower deckcrowds thronging the levee to witness my burning agony! Let me draw a veil over the distressing picture.
"Before I had done smoking my lungs were
torn out (I mean my engines and boilers); and
I have heard from a flat-boat which lately lay
alongside of me at Cairo that they have been
transferred to a new boat called the Good-asnew. For myself, or rather my remains, I was
sold at auction for $300, and towed about at
the pleasure of my new owners, carrying enormous loads and doing all sorts of drudgery. At
length I fell into the hands of Captain Taylor,
and was employed as a lighter for the late Missouri. She had known what it was to be burned
out as well as myself, and while lying at Cairo,
and transferring the leaden cargo from my bowels to hers, or lighting her of her sugar hogsheads, it was a comfort to hear the lengthened
sighs she poured out through her 'scape-pipe in
answer to my complaining creak. Ibecame very
much attached to that boat. I had known her
when she first came out, and we had always kept
up a friendly intercourse. I regretted that some
enterprising John Hunt had not got hold of me,
and by a refitting made me a fit companion for
that noble boat; instead of which, I was reduced
to the condition in which you now see me, and
compelled to be hauled about in a helpless and
hopeless state of bargery!
"Last fall, as I was busily employed lighting
my friend Missouri one dark night, I heard the


voice of Captain Taylor on the lower deck of
that vessel talking to the clerk in a low tone, after all the other officers had retired to rest. The
Missouri was fast asleep; her fires were out, and
all was still around except a murmuring chorus
of deck-hands, who were taking coffee from my
companion's forecastle to mine. Wishing to hear
the conversation going on between the captain
and clerk, I drew closely up, and, holding my
sides so as to stifle the creaking moans that uneasily burst from me at times, I listened in breathless silence for several minutes.
"' Twitchell,' said the bluff captain, ' we must
build a new boat: this is getting behind the
times; the "Scott" and the "White" are getting ahead of us.'
" The clerk did not answer for some time, but
whistled a sort of reflecting tune for several minutes. At length the captain roused him from his
whistling by saying,
" 'What do you think of it, Twitchell?'
' Twitchell had now made up his mind, and
promptly answered in three words,
"' Well, go it!'
" I felt my fate was sealed! I was to be robbed of the only companionship that had afforded
me any comfort for many a day. I could notI felt I could not-bear being hauled about by a
new Missouri-a Missouri that had never been
burned to the water's edge-a Missouri that was
intended to ' go ahead' of the Scott and the White
-an entire stranger to me-it was too much! I
creaked aloud in utter agony; and as the captain and clerk moved off to their state-rooms, I
heard the latter remark that ' the old barge
seemed to be near falling to pieces; it won't last
many voyages more.'
"'Ah!' thought I, 'I wish I could fall to
pieces, or sink at once and end my misery.' I
felt as heavy as if, instead of taking coffee that
night, I had been loaded down with pigs of lead,
as I am now.
"I was laid up for a long time-I can not say
how long; but my repose was doomed to a fearful interruption.
"One day I felt the waves of the Mississippi
coming against my sides with unusual force and
violence. A large crowd was gathering upon
me, and I heard many persons talking of the
NEw MIssouRI; and, sure enough, soon that
monster boat came booming, and I distinctly
heard the voice of the captain say 'there's our
old barge!' Old barge! So I must be called
old too! My charred keel and ribs ached with
vexation.
"There is no use in my detailing to you what
I have undergone since I have been forced to at



"SOFT! 'TWAS BUT A DREAM!"


197


tend on this boat. Suffice it to say that she has
nearly jerked the life out of my timbers. I feel
I can not stand it-there is no repose for me.
If I am left at Cairo while my principal makes
a voyage to the Southern capital, I scarcely have
time to breathe before she returns and hitches
me to her side, and away we go as if' the d-1
kicked us on end!' "
"But what can I do for you?" I asked.
"I want you to get out an injunction against
Captain Taylor and Clerk Twitchell," replied
the barge, " and compel them to let me lay up
for the balance of my life; or, if I must continue


in service, sell me to a slower boat, or-for heaven's sake, do something for me!"
" Our city council has lately passed an ordinance against cruelty to animals," I said, "but
how far its provisions can be brought to bear for
your relief I can not pretend to say. I'll see
what can be done. In the mean time-"
" In the mean time you'd better go to bed,"
said, in a low voice, my friend Twitchell-" that
is, if you have done talking to the old barge,"
he continued, gently forcing me into my stateroom. * * * I had been walking and talking in
my sleep.




I
j
I
I
i
i
I
II




ACT FIFTH.
1845-1853.


CHAPTER I.
THE business of the season of 1845-6 was an
improvement on all previous seasons in the new
St. Charles. My memory tells me a great and
favorable change took place in the fortunes of the
new temple-yes, and it commenced on the very
night of the anniversary of the burning of the
theatre in Mobile in St. Emanuel Street, as I
had all along thought it would.
During this season Mr. and Mrs. Charles Kean
played forty nights in New Orleans, Mobile, and
St. Louis to fine business. Mrs. Mowatt also
played a good engagement in each of the three
cities. About this time Mr. and Mrs. Farren
left our company to go starring, taking with
ihem, with our full consent, several new playsMARY TUDOR, LUCRETIA BORGIA, CATHARINE
HOWARD, and others, which her great talents
had materially assisted in making successful in
performance.  For some years Mrs. Farren
maintained her position as a star, but latterly, I
perceive, she is content with stock engagements.
Mr. Farren is no longer living. Their eldest son
is a scenic artist, the second an actor, and their
daughter an actress. All three are married, and
our well-beloved leading actress of former years
is a grandmother!
Of all the star actors and actresses I have had
to deal with, Mr. and Mrs. Kean, separately and
together, were the most agreeable and friendly.
It was a positive pleasure to have them with us.
They gave no trouble whatever, and all were
anxious to do whatever they requested in the
way of stage business. During their engagements they were so unassuming and kind in
their demeanor that, were it not for the immense
receipts they attracted, you would not have supposed, to see them, that they were any thing but
the humblest members of the stock company.
Mr. C. Kean was always nervous about the
success of any engagement he and his wife were
to play, and on this occasion, learning that the
times were very bad at the South, his expectation of profit was very moderate-so moderate,
indeed, that he offered to sell me his share of
their forty nights for $8000, which would be


$200 per night. I had such confidence in the
change for the better which had set in, that I
was in favor of taking this risk, and I wrote to
my partner at Mobile for his consent to the acceptance of the offer, which he refused. I then
wrote that I wished to take the speculation on
myself individually, the terms with the Keans
not to be changed so far as the firm was concerned, but offering to take their place in the
settlement, making up whatever deficiency there
might be of the $8000, and receiving the overplus, if any. This my partner objected to and
protested against, on the ground that by our
old articles of partnership (long since expired) it
was stipulated we should have no separate theatrical interests. I was fool enough to yield to
this protest, and the engagement went on upon
the terms previously agreed on-an equal division of the receipts. The result was this: I was
deprived of the opportunity of making $4000
clear money either for the firm or myself, while
Kean pocketed that sum in addition to the
amount he was willing to take as a certainty.
I never think of this without being reminded of a
speech of Old Delph, where he says to Mr. Porcelain, "You're like a dog in the manger; you
won't heat yourself, nor let nobody helse heat."
The profits of this season were considerable,
and our debts began to melt away before the
good business as the mists disperse before the
bright sun.
The great feature of the season of 1846 in St.
Louis was the engagement of the Keans, who
continued their successful career to the end of
the forty nights for which they were engaged.
Mrs. Mowatt also performed a good engagement.
Other stars followed, but I do not really remember who they were.
During the engagement of the Keans, the following whimsical scene was enacted without announcement in the bills:
Where's the Swab?
Gas had not been introduced into St. Louis at
this time, and our oil lamps at the wings had a
dangerous way of flaring up in a most unruly
manner, occasionally threatening to set fire to the




200


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


lamp-ladders, and thus endanger the building.
The lamps were open "floats," with wick-holders coming up from the bottom, and the oil,
when heated, would take fire, and burn up in a
large flame. To guard against accidents, we
had a tub of water placed on each side of the
stage, with a large swab or mop in it ready for
use at any moment; and scarcely a night passed
without a swabbing being required. The wing
hands (subordinate stage-carpenters) were in

and had taken her station (Act ii., Scene 2)' on
the balcony, for the purpose of enjoying the fresh
night-breeze after the fatigue of the ball which
had concluded in the previous act, and to think
of the young pilgrim who had so greatly interested her during the festival, when, casting her
eyes over the way, she saw that one of the wing
lamps was just beginning to flare up, and all
eyes being fixed upon her, there was imminent
danger of a conflagration. The fair Juliet hadll


SCENE IN ROMEO AND JULIET-SWABBING! (See page 201.)


structed to keep a strict watch over the wing
lamps, and to use the swab promptly whenever
occasion might require. Besides these watches,
every actor and actress felt a deep interest in the
swabbing process, and it was not an unusual
thing to see Richard the Third, or Hamlet, just
before entering upon the stage, catch up a swab
and dash it upon the rising flames, which, if not
attended to, were likely to burn up the Tower
of London, or the royal palace of Elsinore.
Miss Tree was performing the part of Juliet,


taken her seat on the balcony, but was observed
to fidget and turn in her chair in a most unJuliet-like manner, calling off through the window behind her, in a loud whisper, for " somebody to get the swab!"
Romeo, who had entered from the right-hand
side, and had not seen the flaring lamp, went on
with his speech, interrupted from time to time by
the lovely Capulet.
Romeo. " She speaks, yet she says nothing.
What of that?"




ROWLEY MARKS, HIGH-PRIEST AND COMEDIAN.


201.Tuliet. (Aside.) Where is Mr. Sol Smith?
Will somebody call him?
Romeo. "Her eye discourses; I will answer
it."
Juliet. (Aside.) Will nobody get the swab?
We shall all be burnt up!
Romeo. "I am too bold; 'tis not to me she
speaks."
Juliet. (Aside.) No; it is to somebody to
bring the swab. Where is Mr. Sol Smith?
Romeo. " See how she leans her cheek upon
her hand! Oh that I were a glove upon that
hand, that I might touch that cheek!"
Juliet. "Ah me!" (Aside.) We'd better not
go on. Where is the swab?
Romeo. "She speaks!     Oh, speak again,
bright angel!"
Juliet. (Aside.) If that swab isn't brought
this instant, I'll come down - I will. Ah!
there's Mr. Sol Smith with the swab at last.
Romeo. (Speaks the balance of the speech,
unheeded by Juliet, who is watching the swabbing.)
Juliet. "Oh! Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art
thou Romeo?"
(Aside.) Thank heaven, the danger's over;
the swab has saved us!
"Deny thy father and refuse thy name"-and
so on.
During the existence of the " Reveille" newspaper I contributed to it occasionally. The following sketch of a well-known theatrical character of the time (since deceased) is one of my
light contributions:
Old Rowley Marks.
Rowley is a character. I first became acquainted with him in 1830, but his fame had
reached my ears as early as 1826, when he formed a part of Mr. Alexander Drake's traveling
company in Western New York and Kentucky.
Rowley is an Israelite, and has been for many
years high-priest of the Jews in New Orleans
and parts adjacent, receiving a very handsome
income from the chosen people for the performance of marriage ceremonies, funeral rites, and
other little operations indispensable to the proper
starting of young Jews of the male sex into their
second week's journey of life.
Rowley is an actor of no inconsiderable talent
-that is to say, of a peculiar kind-very peculiar,
I might say. Comic old men are his hobby, and
it would do your heart good to see one of his
laughs. I say see one of them, for nothing particular is heard when he laughs; a sort of turning up of his eyes, a filling of his cheeks with


wind, and suddenly letting it burst forth, at the
same time giving himself a half turn, stooping
as if to spit, indulging in a sly wink at the public, and swinging his cane about-and it is done.
Rowley was once stage-manager in a traveling
company under the direction of my brother, and
during the whole of a very hot summer he luxuriated in the performance of Gov. Heartall,
Old Snacks, and Andrew M]Iucklestane. Andrew
Mucklestane! Ah! how often have I witnessed
his personation of this character, which is nothing more nor less than a sentimental Scotch fisherman, very benevolent in his feelings, and ever
ready to rescue runaway countesses and drowning
children! And to see Rowley sweating through
the " business" of this character is a treat to all
lovers of the romantic drama. Rowley introduces thirteen falls in this performance, and
more than once has it been found necessary to
prop the stage before subjecting it to his energetic manceuvres.
Rowley is well known in the Crescent City,
where he has acted in various capacities besides
those mentioned above. He is a veteran in the
fire department, of which he is the poet laureate;
he holds, or did hold, a lucrative office in the
Custom-house, sings in the choruses at the theatres in the winter, and in the summer accepts
the " direction" of the National Institution at
the Carrollton Railroad Depot, where plays and
farces are "produced" in "rapid succession" and
in every variety of style, and performed by actors
and actresses who can not obtain, or will not accept engagements elsewhere. In the direction
of this National Theatre Rowley manages to keep
up a constant succession of novelties-in the bills
-but gives the same entertainment every night
of the week, thus:
Monday - The "Soldier's Daughter:" Gov.
Heartall, Mr. A. J. R. Marks; Widow Cheerly,
Mrs. Simpkins. With the "Warlock of the
Glen:" Andrew Mucklestane, Mr. A. J. R.
Marks.
Tuesday-" The London Merchant:" Governor, Mr. A. J. R. Marks; Widow, Mrs. Simpkins. And the "Faithful Fisherman:" Fisherman, Mr. A. J. R. Marks.
Wednesday-" The Country Widow:" Heartall, Sen., Mr. A. J. R. Marks. To conclude with
the "Laird of Glencairn:" Andrew, a fisherman,
Mr. A. J. R. Marks.
Thursday-[Firemen's benefit] "The Generous Merchant; or, Pump Away: you may prevent a Conflagration!" Uncle of the Generous
Merchant, Mr. A. J. R. Marks; the Country
Widow, Mrs. Simpkins. With " The Vassal:"
Vassal, Mr. A. J. R. Marks.




202


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


Friday-The "Eccentric Governor; or, Heartall All Heart:" the Eccentric Governor, Mr. A.
J. R. Marks; the Daughter of Discipline, Mrs.
Simpkins. With the "Solitary of the Heath,"
in which Mr. A. J. R. Marks will appear.
Saturday-The " Generous Old Uncle:" Uncle, Mr. A. J. R. Marks. To conclude with " A
Day in Scotland:" Scotchman, Mr. A. J. R.
Marks.
Sunday-[Benefit of the Hospital] "Charitable Widow; or, Say you So, my little Cherub?" The Retired Governor, Mr. A. J. R. Marks;
Charitable Widow, Mrs. Simpkins. After which,
"I have left him struggling in the Waves; or,
the Warlock Laird:" the Fighting Fisherman,
Mr. A. J. R. Marks.
By thus ringing the changes a week's business
is gotten through, and on the next Monday he is
ready with two other pieces-we'll say the CASTLE SPECTRE and INTRIGUE -which he presents during the week with the following varied
titles: 1. Castle Spectre and Intrigue; 2. Mysteries of Conway Castle and Bath Road; 3. Ghost
of Evelina and Married Yesterday; 4. Humors
of Father Philip and Tom and Ellen; 5. Hassan the Slave, and the Wolf and the Lamb; 6.
Angelina, or Reginald the Imprisoned, and the
Jealous Landlord; 7. The Three Earls, or Percy Triumphant, and the Wife's Stratagem, or the
Libertines Deceived!
These are but a few of Rowley's alterations of
titles during a season. The interesting little
drama of the RENDEZVOUS has gone through an
extensive variety of changes in the bills, and has
been witnessed under the titles of "All in the
Dark," "Hide and Seek," "The Robbers of the
Heath," "The Cock-ed Hat, or Simon in a
Quandary," "Frightened to Death," "Matches
are made in Heaven," "Rose d'Amour," "Now
let's to Supper," etc., etc. Hundreds of other
equally ingenious variations of titles might be
mentioned, by which Manager Rowley carries on
the National institution to a profitable conclusion of its summer seasons; but, from the above
specimens, an idea may be formed of some of the
expedients by which a fertile mind may make a
great deal out of a limited amount of material.
It ought to be observed that Eastern managers
of theatres are beginning to adopt the system so
successfully introduced by the director of the
"National," and it has become next to an impossibility to ascertain, from the newspaper announcements, what play really is to be acted in
the New York and Philadelphia theatres. Even
at the South and West, in other than National
institutions, we see occasional symptoms of Rowleyism beginning to show themselves. Rowley


should obtain a patent, and then prosecute all
" acting and stage managers" who "'fringe that
way."
In appearance Rowley Marks is a little below
the middle size, measuring, in his stockings,
about four feet and some inches. A gleam of
good humor is always beaming on his countenance, except when he experiences a twinge of
the gout (unfortunately pretty often), and he is
one of the best-natured fellows in existence.
Though short in stature, long may he live to officiate as High Priest of the Jews and of the Sun
-may he continue to carry out his enlightened
views of management in his National establishment, and remain a shining light in the paths of
the drama! Good luck to thee Rowley!
CHAPTER II.
THE New Orleans season of 1846-7 witnessed
a continuation of the prosperity which had now
become an assured fact. Business not only came
up to a paying point, but went considerably beyond it. Stars this season, Wallack, Mrs. Mowatt (with E. L. Davenport, a fine actor), Murdoch, Anderson, Collins, and the Ravel family.
As stock-stars we also had Mr. and Mrs. James
W. Wallack, engaged with the view of making
strong combinations with their uncle, but somehow they wouldn't "combine" much, and the
three could very seldom be brought into the cast
of one play. It made but little difference, however, as, with the exception of a night or two of
DoN C2ESAR DE BAZAN (a splendid performance!), Mr. Wallack this season played to very
thin audiences, whether in connection with his
nephew and niece or by himself.
The Keans returned to the St. Charles in the
spring, but, in consequence of Mrs. Kean being
taken ill, the engagement was shortened to about
a week. Mr. Kean offered to make a compensation for necessarily cutting the engagement down
to seven nights, but I wouldn't listen to such a
proposition. Nevertheless, he left a hundred dollars in the treasury out of the proceeds of his
benefit, at which Mrs. Kean was not able to assist.
This season was so prosperous (even Mobile
didn't turn out so badly as it usually had) that
it was decided to refit and remodel the St.
Charles at an estimated cost of $8000, which
(of course) went up to $16,000.
The American Theatre on Poydras Street had
been opened every season in some form or other,
generally collapsing in the middle of winter, and
throwing large numbers of people out of employ



A CONVENTION OF SNAGS AND SAWYERS.


203


ment. This season it was conducted by Messrs.
S. P. Stickney and Lucius Place (R. L. Place as
his agent) as a theatre and circus, and had escaped the usual collapse.
A "combination" was formed for conducting
the ensuing season of the St. Charles, American,
and Mobile theatres under one management;
that is to say, a board of directors was created,
consisting of our firm and Stickney, by which all
important matters were to be arranged, and the
manager of each theatre to carry out the details.
By virtue of our having two theatres to Stickney's one, we had two votes, being two thirds of
the whole board; consequently, as my partner
was the manager in Mobile, where he resided,
the real weight of the management of all three
theatres fell upon me. But the yoke was easy and
the burden was light, as will be seen presently.
During this season, finding the houses sometimes affected by people staying away to hear
expected news from Mexico, I adopted the plan
of announcing from the stage any new tidings
that might come in from the seat of war after
the assemblage of the audience. Being on the
best of terms with the editors of the Picayune
(Kendall was with the army all through the war),
I was enabled to obtain the very latest news during the evening, and it came to be understood
that the St. Charles Theatre was the very best
place for newsmongers to go to if they wanted
to be posted up with the war proceedings on the
Rio Grande. I remember announcing, on the
20th of March, the great victory of General Taylor over Santa Anna at Buena Vista on the 22d
of the preceding month. When the applause
and cheers had subsided, I added these words:
"I prophesy that General Zachary Taylor will
be the next President of the United States,"
when the applause and cheers were redoubled.
I spoke as I thought, not as I wished. Henry
Clay should have been elected the following year,
but it seems that great and good man had to be
thrust aside for "expediency."
On the 27th of February an actor of the American Theatre, by name Collins, departed this life.
Attending his funeral on the 28th, it was found
that the minister engaged to perform the funeral
service could not attend. Being the senior actor
present, I was requested to read the service, to
which request I unhesitatingly assented, but there
being no Liturgy at hand, I sent home for one,
and we proceeded to the grave-yard, where my
messenger met me with the book, and there I
read the services for the burial of the dead according to the ritual of the New Jerusalem
Church, all the actors and actresses present joining most devoutly in the ceremonies.


Having occasion to go to St. Louis during this
season in the Old Hickory, Captain Stetinnius,
I amused myself on the way and pleased my excellent friend Captain Sellars, the pilot, by writing the following account of a public meeting,
the idea of which was suggested by an article in
the Louisville Journal, the whole being intended
as a hit at President Polk for his veto of the
River and Harbor Bill:
"' F  We understand that as soon as the present high water in the Western rivers subsides,
there are to be several meetings of the snags and
sawyers in various portions of the Ohio and the
Mississippi, to adopt resolutions thanking their
friend Mr. Polk for his affectionate regard for
them, and also to contrive ways and means for
wrecking all the steam, flat, and keel boats that
shall have the hardihood to question their right
under the Constitution to occupy places in the
beds of the rivers."-Lou. JTour.
Proceedings of the Convention of Snags
and Sawyers, held at the Grave-yard,
in the Mississippi River, Dec. 31,1846.
Delegates were in attendance from Turkey
Island, Dog-tooth Bend, Head of Hat Island,
Riddle's Point, Number Ten, Devil's Island,
Hull's Left Leg, Elk Island, Number Twentyone, Plum Point, Number Thirty-seven, Devil's
Back-bone, Tyawapeta, Hanging-dog Island,
Devil's Elbow, Charley's Bend, My Wife's Island, Number Sixty-five, Shirt-tail Bend, Goose
Island, Devil's Tea-table, and the Grave-yard.
Several delegates from the most important
sand-bars presented their credentials and claimed
seats in the Convention, but, objection being
made by nearly all of the snags and sawyers
present, they were excluded on the ground that,
although they were quite useful in detaining
boats, they very seldom succeeded in destroying
them.
After the transaction of some unimportant
preliminary business, Awful Hull-ripper, Esq.,
from Devil's Back-bone, was unanimously elected President, and Mr. Terrible Keel-scraper,
from Goose Island, was appointed Secretary.
The venerable snag who had been called on to
preside over the proceedings of the Convention,
on being conducted to his seat, briefly addressed
the members in a tone of congratulation upon
the occasion which called them together, alluding in feeling terms to the great success which
had attended their exertions during the late season of low water. He concluded his very pertinent remarks by suggesting that it would be advisable to confine the action of the Convention
to the objects of the assemblage, which, as he
understood them, were to pass resolutions thank



204


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


ing President Polk for his paternal care, and to
contrive ways and means for wrecking all the
steam, flat, and keel boats that shall have the
hardihood to question the rights of snags and
sawyers, under the Constitution, to occupy places
in the bed of the mighty Mississippi.
A delegate in the shape of a very large piece
of rock here presented himself at the bar, and
claimed a seat in the Convention as a member
from the Grand Chain. It was objected by several snags and sawyers that the Grand Chain
had no claims to be represented in this Convention, as the notice in the Louisville Journal,
which published the call, named only "snags
and sawyers."
" No claim?" exclaimed the delegate from the
Grand Chain; "no claim? I would point out
to honorable members the wreck of the old J.
M. White, which I had the pleasure of sinking.
Yes, gentlemen snags and sawyers, there lies-"
Several members here interrupted the speaker,
and suggested that, to save time, a vote should
be taken on his claims to a seat, which suggestion being acted on, it was found that a large
majority were in favor of according the applicant a place in the Convention. On taking his
seat, the delegate was understood to say, in a
grumbling tone, that he thought it a pretty thing,
indeed, that his right to a seat should be questioned, while he saw around him numerous snags
and sawyers that he could remember when they
were but young trees-yea, nothing but saplings
-long before they took to the water, or thought
of establishing themselves as obstructions.
The business of the Convention was resumed
by appointing a committee to draft a preamble
and resolutions expressive of the sentiments of
the meeting.
The committee having retired, several eloquent addresses were delivered by members from
the several wrecking stations, which were listened to with profound attention by the assembled
obstructions. One member from Plum Point
excited the liveliest interest by relating his experience during the last seventy years, having during that time, unassisted, dove into sixty-three
flat-boats, twenty-five barges, twenty-eight keelboats, and seven steam-boats. The venerable
snag observed, in conclusion, that he had grown
rotten in the cause; that he had lost all his
limbs, and much more service could not be expected of him in this world; "yet," he continued, "I am encouraged to hope that the
younger branches of my family will not disgrace
their sire, but, under the fostering influence of
the presidential veto, will stand their ground, as
I have done."


This address was received with great applause.
Several stumps attempted to address the Convention, but the President decided that stump
speeches could not be permitted, as politics were
to form no part of the proceedings of the meeting. So the stumps remained silent.
A very tall, healthy-looking snag from Turkey
Island now obtained the floor, and called the attention of the members to the growing importance of the place he had the honor to represent,
observing that he might point with pride to the
wrecks of the Rienzi, Oregon, Levant, Yucatan,
and Rubicon as proofs of industry and efficiency.
Some very touching remarks were made by
several other members, all tending to show the
brilliant prospects which opened to the community of snags and sawyers in consequence of the
advocacy of their cause by the present patriotic
and conscientious head of the administration.
The committee now returned and reported the
following preamble and resolutions:
" Whereas the snags, sawyers, rocks, and
stumps in the Mississippi River have certain
vested and inalienable rights, which should not
be invaded-rights of long standing, which will
never be surrendered but with life; and, whereas, at various times within the last twenty years,
attempts have been made, by means of certain
contrivances called snag-boats, to pull us up
root and branch, and tear us from our homes
and families"Resolved, That we pledge ourselves to each
other that we will stick up for our rights while
we have a root or limb to hold on by, and we
will rip, stave, and tear into eternal smash all
flat, keel, and steam boats that we can reach.
"Resolved, That we point with exultation to
the numerous wrecks in this grave-yard, and in
all the other (so called) bad places represented in
this Convention, as monuments of our power.
"Resolved, That our thanks are hereby tendered to the President for his veto on the attempts
of Congress to interfere with our constitutional
rights, and that he be invited to visit us at our
several stations during the low-water season of
next year, when we promise him he shall see
sights.
"Resolved, That, in order to co-operate with
the views of our conscientious President, it is
expedient that three or four efficient and experienced snags shall establish themselves in eligible positions in the harbor of St. Louis, to be
ready for duty during the summer of 1847.
"Resolved, That we adopt the title by which
we have been called in derision by our opponents, and glory in the name of Polk stalks.
"Resolved, That the proceedings of this Convention be published in the St. Louis Reveille,
Louisville Journal, and such other papers as are
friendly to the cause of equal rights throughout
the Union."
The resolutions were unanimously adopted,
and, after a vote of thanks to the Chairman, and




A LETTER FROM THE LATE MAJOR NOAH.


205


to the Grave-yard for the accommodations afforded to the Convention, an adjournment was
moved and carried.
AWFUL HULL-RIPPER,
(from the Devil's Back-bone), Chairman.
TERRIBLE KEEL-SCRAPER,
(from Goose Island), Secretary.
CHAPTER III.
I HAVE nothing particular to record of the season of 1847 in St. Louis except that it was unusually prosperous-for that place, and that here
Commenced an engagement which I had much
difficulty in making, with the great troupe of
Viennoise children, who, under the management
of Madame Weisse, were to perform   eighty
nights with us in New Orleans, Mobile, and this
city. Of all the attractions ever offered to the
public of these United States, I consider this
troupe of forty-eight girls the greatest; and it is
not too much to say that their performances
were the most artistic and pleasing of any thing
ever seen in this country in the way of dancing.
The whole people flocked to see them, and there
was but one opinion as to their merits.
I here insert a letter from my old and valued
friend, Major Noah, of New York, giving that
worthy gentleman's views of theatrical affairs in
general, and pretty women in particular:
M. 1M. Noah to Sol. Smith.
"New York, October 11,1847.
"MY OLD FRIEND,-I saw your name gazetted
at St. Louis, and presume you are now home.
Having some leisure on hand, I should be glad
to correspond with a New Orleans paper of established reputation, furnishing all the foreign
and local news, making a useful as well as agreeable correspondence, for which I have all the
material on hand, and the experience in such
matters. Should you learn that such an opening exists, have the kindness to drop me a line.
Madame Augusta tells me she has written to
you in relation to an engagement, but has not
received an answer. I have known her since
her first arrival in this country, and, although a
prodigious favorite every where, the numerous
adventurers from abroad, of less merit and beauty, ask more reasonable terms, and supersede
her. In the aggregate, I doubt whether the
economy is the best policy. Old Placide, the
Charleston manager, once said to me, 'Give me
de prette vimin, and I vill fill my house,' and he
had a galaxy of beauty, and so I would have
were I manager. Augusta tells me you have
engaged Demier. I hope she may take in New
Orleans, but I apprehend against Blangy she can
make no run. What is to become of the rivalry
in New York? I apprehend that, with all the
splendor of the Broadway Theatre, the sawdust
and horses will come in play during the winter.




Simpson, though dreadfully alarmed at first, is
recovering from the shock. Music and dancing,
however, will overshadow the legitimate, I apprehend, during the coming season.
" We shall lose our election this fall in consequence of the division in the Democratic party,
and I apprehend I shall be compelled once more
to take the field with the Old Guard, and endeavor to recover the day. Whenever there is a
fierce battle to be fought, I am called upon.
The moment victory ensues, I am shelved. ' Every puny whipster gets my sword.' If Clay's
name is not brought forward until next summer,
and he writes no letters and keeps quiet, I think
his chance is the best. I suppose you still adhere to old 'Rough and Ready.' It is impossible, in these trying times, when the political elements are all in confusion; to say who stands
the best chance.
"Write to Augusta. I think her an excellent
card for the South, and I am sure you will want
her. Success attend you.
"Sincerely yours,   M. M. NOAH."
The good Major Noah and I had known each
other for a quarter of a century. As editors, in
1823, we had had several good-natured controversies-he supporting Crawford for the Presidency, and I De Witt Clinton, and afterward
Jackson. He was a great friend to actors. For
many, many years we held friendly intercourse,
and when I went to New York was always sure
of meeting him at Niblo's, where we occupied
the interval between the performances with a
good chat and a good glass of ice-cream in the
saloon. Adieu, major! You are gone before;
but, if congenial spirits are permitted to meet in
the spirit-world, I hope for future communion
with you. I shall try to hunt you up, wherever
you may be. If there are any theatres there,
there's where I shall look for you.
A Lapse of Twenty Years.
[1827.] The elderly and middle-aged residents of St. Louis all remember the theatre on
Second Street, between Olive and Locust Streets,
commonly known as the Salt - house.   The
"temple" was somewhat limited in size, of a
surety; but it was generally well filled with
well-satisfied audiences, and I have always contended that a small theatre FULL was far preferable to a large one half empty. No matter for
that; it is all aside from the purpose of my
story, which is intended to record one of the
most singular coincidences I have ever known.
In the summer of 1827, the company of which
I was then a member performed with great success a new drama entitled THE GAMBLER'S
FATE, OR A LAPSE OF TWENTY YEARS. It took
well with the St. Louisans, and was often repeated.




206


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


On one occasion, when this thrilling drama
was announced, two young men, just enlisted for
a trip to the mountains in the Fur Company's
service, attended the theatre to witness the performance. At the end of the first act they got
impatient at the length of time the curtain was
suffered to remain down, and concluded to go
out and take a drink. Another drink followed,
and then another.
"Come, Jim," said one, "let's return to the
theatre; the curtain must be up by this time."
"No," replied the other; "look here-just
read that bill, will you?-Between the 1st and 2d
acts twenty years are supposed to elapse."
"Thunder and gunpowder!" exclaimed Joe,
the liquor beginning to assert its power, " who's
gwine to wait twenty years? Let's go back to


second act; we saw the other some time ago.
What's the price of tickets now?"
"The same as a while ago-seventy-five
cents."
"What, now-and one act over."
"Exactly-one act over."
"But," expostulated Joe, who did all the
talking, while Jim stood a little back and chewed tobacco, " we've paid once before for seeing
this piece, and only staid for the first act."
" Can't help that, my friend," replies the imperturbable ticket-seller; " we have but one
price."
" Well, hand out two tickets for up stairs."
The tickets were handed out, the money bet
ing first handed in, and the two trappers entered
the house. In a few minutes the curtain was


the Green Tree tavern and retire to our virtu- raised, and the mountaineers finished seeing THE
ous beds, for to-morrow we start for the mount- GAMBLER'S FATE, the first act of which they


ains.


"Agreed," says Jim, and offthey went. They
slept off the effects of the "drink," and next
day the party to which they belonged moved
westward.
[A LAPSE OF TWENTY YEARS.]
[1847.] Two middle-aged individuals are seen
reading a large poster at the "Green Tree."
Rough-looking customers they are, and look toilworn and browned by the weather, but hardy
and honest. They are our old friends who,
twenty years ago, went to see THE GAMBLER'S
FATE, and retired at the end of the first act.
Singularly enough, there is the same play announced, THE GAMBLER'S FATE, OR A LAPSE
OF TWENTY YEARS.
Our trappers agree at once to go and see the
rest on't.
They make their way up Second Street until
they come to about the spot where the theatre
stood, and then inquire of a passer-by for directions, which are speedily given, and in a few
minutes they find themselves in the vestibule of
the theatre on Third Street.
"Halloo! old feller," says Joe, addressing
the ticket-seller through a hole, "they play THE
GAMBLER'S FATE here to-night, don't they?"
"Well, they don't play any thing else," was
the polite reply of the gentlemanly treasurer.
"All right, old feller," replied Joe; "I don't
want to see any thing else, though I believe
you advertise a farce with it. Is the first act
over?"
"I believe it is," answered the clerk.
"All right again-we only want to see the


had seen twenty years before in the same city,
though not in the same theatre, and with only
one person in the cast who had played in it on
the previous occasion. In effect, our voyageurs
witnessed this play with a "real lapse" of twenty years between the acts.
The season of 1847-8 in New Orleans, which
was carried on by a " combination" between the
St. Charles and American Theatres, opened auspiciously at the American with Miss Wemyss
as the star, the St. Charles, from policy, holding
back and yielding the field for several weeks,
employing the company at St. Louis until about
the end of November. The great card at the
American was Mr. Forrest, who played a farewell engagement of thirty nights to an average
of $534. His farewell benefit was $802. This
engagement of Mr. F. 's was interrupted once or
twice by attacks of gout which that gentleman
experienced, but, owing to our peculiar facilities, we filled up the gaps with various attractions, so that nothing was lost by Mr. F. 's occasional failure to perform.
The wonderful Viennoise children danced thirty nights at the St. Charles to houses averaging
$793, and then went to Mobile, returning to us
for a few nights, and afterward dancing at the
French Theatre, also at the American for a
night or two.
Other stars this season, Mrs. Farren, Julia
Dean, Madame Augusta, Madam Bishop (with
Reeves and Brough), and (I think-I will not be
sure) the Ravel family.
The profits of the combination footed up about
$25,000, two thirds of which came to us, and
one third to Stickney and Place.
Before the close in New Orleans I proceeded




A LETTER FROM C. A. LOGAN.


207


to St. Louis with the charming Viennoisses, and
a very pleasant journey we had of it, the children
being all amiable and well-behaved.
At this time (spring of 1848) I purchased a
house and lot on Chouteau Avenue-this after
PAYING ALL DEBTS (oh, blessed liberty!)-where
we have found a happy home for twenty years.
The season of 1848 in St. Louis was opened
with the ever-welcome Viennoise children, and
carried through, with other stars, to a successful
conclusion. After they left us I saw no more
of the good Madame Josephine Weisse and her
lovely children. She and they soon after returned to Vienna, where the madame, in compliance with her contracts, restored each child to
its parents, and then resigned her spirit to her
Maker!
I have nothing particular to relate concerning
this season except that Mr. Forrest did not engage with us. I did not offer him half the receipts, but asked him to fix the sum per night
for which he would act, which he declined to do,
saying that he never would act again for a sum
certain, but must have half the receipts wherever
he played. We parted in New Orleans on good
terms and in friendship, and I had no idea of any
change in his feelings toward me; but I soon
found he was arranging, or trying to arrange for
an opposition house here. He sent up John
Greene to procure a place and put up temporary
scenery. John looked about the city and talked
with citizens, and - returned to New Orleans
without making any arrangements for Mr. Forrest to appear in St. Louis. The next I heard
from Mr. Forrest was through Mr. Logan, Bates's
stage-manager at Cincinnati, whose letter I give:
C. A. Logan to Sol. Smith.
" Cincinnati, April 16,1848.
" MY DEAR OLD FRIEND,-I have just received
your friendly letter, and hasten to reply, although there is absolutely no news here, and
scarce any thing to write about. You, of course,
ere this, must be aware that Forrest acted in
Louisville, but you may not be aware that he received $200 a night for so acting. A melancholy
fact: $200 for each night, and on some nights
he played to a less sum; one night, at least, the
receipts were but $150, and he got $200, leaving
the manager to pay $50 to the star beyond the
gross receipts, besides his own expenses! Blessed system! His whole engagement in Louisville was a failure, and he told me yesterday that
the houses were a series of thunderbolts to him
-his manner of expressing his astonishment at
their thinness. He opened here last night to
about $700-a far better house than any he had in
Louisville, his benefit there being $515. But he
gets his $200 a night here too, and asked me yesterday whether, if successful, there would be a
chance of renewal. I suppose he would extend


the length indefinitely on the same terms. John
Greene arrived here a day or two ago to announce his failure in St. Louis, and seek a company for Galena, I believe. He could get nobody, and left again for the West yesterday.
"Your only real danger in St. Louis of opposition is from John Bates. I violate no confidence when I tell you that he has serious notions of building there this summer. He declared this to a party of us yesterday (and often
before to me), among whom was John Greene and,
I think, Forrest, and added jocosely that I had
better inform ' my friend Sol' of his intention.
This I now do, not with any intention of thwarting the views of my employer (for your knowledge of the fact can not work detriment to him),
but simply that you may know there what is the
common talk here. * * * *
"Forrest is evidently angry with you for not
offering him an engagement in St. Louis. He
told me yesterday (but, remember, this must not
be mentioned as coming from me) that he intended to pay a visit to St. Louis. I presume
you understand the significance of his paying a
visit. Some years ago he said to me in Philadelphia, ' Logan, I start to-morrow for Charleston.'
' The devil you do!' I replied; ' you told me only
yesterday the manager had refused your terms.'
'True, that's the reason I'm going. When I'm
on thet SPOT I think I can make him change his
mind!' and he did. I believe you know I am
one of your sincerest well-wishers, and therefore
if I speak plainly you will not misunderstand
me. Your letter contains some justly indignant
denunciations of the starring system. Ask yourself if you are not an active particeps criminis in
it. John Bates from the first took a strong
stand against this monstrous abuse, and all my
influence with him was exerted to confirm him
in his resolves to resist these ruinous demands.
He has constantly said if you will sustain us in
this matter we can break it up in the West. But
you always pursued the old course, and (as Bates
says) endeavored to force certain stars upon
him at exorbitant terms. It seems now that he
is tired of refusing terms that all other managers
give -tired of hearing the people say, 'These
performers play in all other cities; why do you
not engage them?' Hence Forrest at length has
triumphed, and draws from the treasury $200 a
night! I rejoice to hear that your Southern
season was prosperous. It is quite currently believed that you and the American were in cahoot.
" Your letters are always welcome, and I wish
you would write oftener. I will always most
cheerfully give you any information in my power, or do any thing else to advance your views
-'not wronging him I serve.'
" Yours ever,      C. A. LOGAN."
So it seemed Mr. Forrest had changed his
mind in regard to playing for a " certainty," and
I wrote immediately to him, offering the same
terms he had with Bates in Louisville. To this
I received no reply! I then wrote another letter
asking him to name the sum per night for which
he would act here for twelve nights. Below will




208


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


be found Mr. Forrest's reply to one of his oldest
and best friends:
Edwin Forrest to Sol. Smith.
"Detroit, July 31,1848.
"SIR,-I regret I can not appear in St. Louis
under your management; no amount of money
could induce me to do so.  EDWIN FORREST.
"Sol. Smith, Esq., St. Louis."
This was the last letter received from one
whom I had cherished as a sincere friend for
twenty-six years, and terminated all correspondence between us. I know not to this day what
I had done to deserve so curt a reply to a fair
business proposition, and I suppose I never shall.
It will be seen from Logan's letter that John
Bates contemplated building a new theatre here.
Knowing his pecuniary ability to carry out his
designs, and believing two theatres could not be
sustained, the house we occupied was offered to
Mr. Bates, at our instance, by Mr. Collier; but
Mr. Bates was bent on building, and it will be
seen he eventually carried out his design.
The stars that gave light to this season, which
was a prosperous one in a small way, were, besides the wonderful Viennoise children, Yankee
Hill, Julia Dean, Mrs. Farren, Winchell, Mrs.
Hunt, C. D. Pitt, G.W. Jamison, J. R. Scott, Mr.
and Mrs. Conper, Dan Marble, Booth. and Augusta, with her troupe
CHAPTER IV.
I HERE insert a reply I made and published
to a sermon on amusements, preached by one cf
our most esteemed clergymen:
Extract from a Lecture on Amusements, by the
Rev. W. G. Elliot.
"It is a fair objection to the theatre, that, as
an amusement, it is too exciting-by far too
much so for a beneficial influence on the young.
It often unfits their minds for serious thoughts
and labor. To older persons it may not be so
hurtful; but for the young man, I do not know
of any habit, in itself not positively sinful, which is
more injurious, or more fraught with serious
danger, than that of theatre-going. It stimulates the imagination too strongly; it awakens
dormant passions; it overtasks the sensibilities,
and generally makes more quiet and less exciting amusements seem flat and tasteless. It is,
moreover, an expensive amusement, much beyond the proper means of most young men;
and, unfortunately, it is surrounded with many
incidental evils, which, although theoretically
not inseparable from it, are always practically
attendant upon it, as camp followers are an evil
inseparable from the camp. I appeal to yourselves if it is not true that the young man who
becomes fond of the theatre is very likely to become immoral and dissipated. Believing that it


is so, I feel justified in advising you strongly
against it. Select more quiet and less dangerous amusements. At least wait until you are
well established in virtue before you subject
yourselves to such severe tests; and when you
are thus established, the desire to set a good example to those whose principles are not; yet
equally confirmed may become a still stronger
motive for staying away."
At various times during my professional life
I have felt called upon to make comments,
through the press, upon the strictures of certain
reverend gentlemen who have thought proper to
denounce the institution of the theatre as demoralizing in its tendency. Among the socalled " divines" (what a title for human beings!)
to whom I have paid my respects, I may name
Mr.'Bullard, of this city, and Mr. Beecher, of
Cincinnati. These preachers of the Gospel of
Jesus Christ-one on the occasion of delivering
a sermon on the death of President Harrison,
and the other at a sort of holy triumphant celebration, held on the occasion of the conversion
of the Tremont Theatre (Boston) into a church
-took upon themselves the offices of judges of
their fellow-sinners, and, instead of obeying the
command of the Master they pretend to serve,
which required his followers to go forth to all
the world and preach GOOD WILL TO ALL MEN,
passed sentence of unconditional condemnation
not only upon the professors of the stage, but
upon all who encouraged its representations by
their presence in the passive characters of auditors.
It may be asked why I, out of the whole community of actors in this extensive country, should
take upon myself the task of defending the theatre. I answer, because Ijfeel it to be my duty,
and because I do not perceive others, far more
able to do justice to the cause, step forward, as it
appears to me they should, to defend their profession when assailed.
Being a great admirer of the Rev. Mr. Elliot,
whom I know to be a good man and an exemplary
Christian, I confess I was not prepared to find
him following so far in the wake of the orthodox
gentlemen above named as to advise his young
hearers to discountenance an institution which
has been advocated and upheld by a vast majority of the great and good men of all ages, and in
all countries where civilization and refinement
have prevailed to any extent. I thought we had
one church, at least, in St. Louis whose pulpit was
occupied by a man who, while he was strictly
faithful to his trust, and watchful over the moral
conduct of his parishioners, would rise above the
petty prejudices which unfortunately, to some extent, exist against the institution referred to;




THE STAGE DEFENDED.


209


and if he could not conscientiously assist in dissipating those prejudices, that he would at least
refrain from giving countenance to the war of
extermination waged by interested and bigoted
clergymen against the theatre, leaving his congregation to exercise their own judgments, and
obey the dictates of their own consciences (influenced, if you please, by his excellent general
teachings) on the subject of amusements.
Before attempting to controvert the opinions
of Mr. Elliot as expressed above, it is with pleasure I award to that gentleman great sincerity
and honesty of purpose in all his acts and words.
His language, correctly quoted at the head of this
article, it need not be said, is that of a gentleman, a scholar, and a Christian; and its style is
referred to only for the purpose of remarking
upon the striking difference between it and that
of the language generally made use of by the orthodox "gentlemen in black" gowns who have
heretofore taken upon themselves the offices of
censors of the stage, and, in consequence, claimed my attention.
I will now state concisely Mr. Elliot's reasons
for advising young people to stay away from the
theatre:
1. The theatre, as an amusement, is too exciting, and, therefore, fraught with serious danger.
2. It is too expensive.
3. It is surrounded with many incidental evils,
which are always practically attendant upon it,
though not theoretically inseparable from it.
4. It leads young men to become immoral and
dissipated.
To be sure, all these are mere assertions; but,
as they are made in sincerity, and doubtless in
the full belief of their truth, let us examine them
separately.
It is said that the theatre is "too exciting."
Now it appears to me that, if the tendency of
stage representations be for good, they can not be
" too exciting;" but if for evil, then the gentleman is right. When the heart throbs with the
feelings of patriotism and virtuous indignation
against tyranny and oppression; when the eye
of youth fills with tears of sorrow for suffering
virtue; when the cheek burns with indignation
at successful villainy-all the effect of the poet's
language and the actor's power-will it be said
that these aroused feelings are to be suppressed
because they are "exciting?" I say to you,
friend Elliot, that, so far from the amusement of
the theatre being "too exciting" for the young,
it would be better for the moral condition of the
world if the excellent sentiments promulgated
from the stage could be more universally disseminated than they are. That the cold, formal
0


teachings of the pulpit have their uses is not denied; but the practical lessons acted before the
auditor at the theatre, from the very fact that
they are more " exciting," are more lasting, and
consequently more useful.
I conclude, then, on this point, that a play can
not be "too exciting" if the moral be good, and
the tendency of the sentiment ennobling to human nature. Let the pulpit, therefore, confine
its censures and strictures to immoral stage representations, and cherish those which tend to refine, ameliorate, and improve society.
The second objection to the theatre as an
amusement, that it is too expensive, may be answered in a few words. Let there be a very general attendance (allowing it to be deserving of
support), and the prices of admission can be proportionately reduced. This has already been exemplified in our theatres. Notwithstanding the
anathemas occasionally launched forth from the
pulpit, the attendance has so increased within late
years that the admission fee has been reduced
one half! so it is not very " expensive," after all.
And if young men are moderate in their enjoyment of dramatic amusements, visiting the theatre only once or twice a week, it will not be very
"hurtful" to them, I imagine, in a pecuniary
point of view (in which view I suppose this objection is made), and they will have something
left for pew rent, preacher's salary, and the missionary box too. Taking into view the quality
of the various amusements, it appears to me that
there is none so cheap as that of the theatre.
The charge that the theatre is "surrounded
by incidental evils" I scarcely know how to meet,
unless the evils are more particularly specified.
In the absence of such specifications, I hope it
will not be thought unfair to assume that the
lecturer referred to those truly objectionable adjuncts to some theatres-the bar-room and the
third tier. If I am right in this assumption, it
is sufficient to say that here, in St. Louis, there
has been no saloon or bar-room carried on in the
theatre for ten years, and that the third tier is
frequented by as honest and virtuous a set of auditors, male and female, as can be found in any
community-of colored people.
And here I must complain of the illiberality
and positive unfairness of all the clergymen in
this city who oppose the theatre, as they say,
upon principle; for while they very willingly and
with apparent candor admit, in private, that the
establishment here is an exception to the generality of theatres, and, indeed, that its directors
deserve credit for the manner in which it is conducted, in the pulpit they do not give us the benefit of this exception, but class all theatres to



210


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


gether indiscriminately, and indiscriminately
condemn them all!
The fourth objection, that going to the theatre
leads young men to become immoral and dissipated, is controverted thus: They learn there
the best lessons taught by history and experience; they pass their time pleasantly-commit
no sin-and retire to their homes satisfied that
they have spent the evening in rational enjoyment. "Dissipation" has no more connection
with the theatre than with the church. If a man
is desirous of indulging in the intoxicating cup,
he can obtain it (and will) as easily after attending a lecture or prayer-meeting as after witnessing a theatrical performance.
Instead of theatre-going being an injury to the
young (or the old either, for that matter), I insist
that it is a positive benefit; and I hope to live
long enough to see the respectable portion of our
pulpit orators throw aside their long-cherished
prejudices and come out in its support. Come,
gentlemen of the long robe, what do you say to
a "combination" between the Church and the
Theatre against the devil and all his works? Instead of endeavoring to put down the theatre,
WHICH YOU CAN NEVER DO, suppose you preach
against the abuses which exist in it-recommend
your hearers to witness none but good playsmoral plays-plays which are plays! Tell the
young men to stay away when the trash which
managers are sometimes compelled to offer is announced, and crowd the house when a sterling
piece is brought out!
If preachers will follow my advice, and let it
be understood that they uphold the good and
condemn the bad of the theatre, they can then
incorporate into their sermons some of the sentiments of our fine old dramatists, and instead of
quoting, as they now frequently do, surreptitiously, some good sentiments from a play, and shuffle it over with a half-uttered reference to "the
poet," they could quote boldly from Shakspeare,
Johnson, Home, and other play-writers, and give
them due credit for their sentiments. More than
a thousand times have I heard passages from
Shakspeare quoted in the pulpit, and never but
once did I hear that poet's name mentioned
there, and then the minister said he valued the
plays of Shakspeare next to his Bible! The
minister here spoken of gave this rule as the
proper one to be followed by all Christians in relation to amusements: " Never to go to any place
where you are not willing to, die!" An excellent
rule, I humbly think, and one which, if followed
by us all (preachers as well as players), might be
considered a safe guide through life.
For twenty-five years I have followed the stage


as a profession. If I thought it a sinful one I
would leave it to-morrow-nay, to-night, though
a large family is dependent on my professional
exertions for support-my children for their education.
If my own motives and feelings are known to
myself, my aim has always been, so far as my
limited influence extended, to elevate the drama.
or, rather, to so conduct my course in the management of such theatres as have been wholly or
partially under my direction as to maintain the
STAGE in its proper position among the professions. This I have effected so far as the public
would sustain me; and, in conclusion, I invite
all who believe that theatre-going is attended
with injurious effects to examine well the subject, discard all illiberal prejudices, exercise a
Christian spirit toward those who differ with
them in opinion, and pause before they publicly
utter opinions which, if concurred in by the community in which we live, would consign to want
and starvation all who are engaged in the theatre, consisting of no less than sixty or seventy
individuals, who, for virtue, intelligence, and
honesty (leaving myself out of the party), may
safely challenge a comparison with those who
seem disposed to deprive them of their bread.
SOL. SMITH.
CHAPTER V.
THE coalition, somewhat modified in consequence of our refusing to take the Mobile Theatre, was renewed between the St. Charles (now
enlarged and refitted at an expense of $16,000)
and American. Stickney was no longer connected with the latter. We still retained the two
votes to the one of Lucius Place in the board
of directors. Mr. George Vandenhoff was our
leading man in tragedy and comedy, Mrs. Melinda Jones and Mrs. Stuart leading women, W.
H. Chippendale stage manager and leading old
man.
A "gentleman of New Orleans" desired to
adopt the stage as a profession. He was introduced to me by my very good friend S. S. Prentiss, Esq., after whom I have named one of my
children:
S. S. Prentiss to Sol. Smith.
"New Orleans, November 7, 1848.
"SOL. SMITH, ESQ.: MY DEAR SIR, -Allow
me to introduce to you my very particular friend,
J. W. Frost, Esq., a member of the bar of this
city. Mr. Frost desires to speak with you concerning a young friend of his who is anxious to
go on the stage, and who Mr. F. thinks has a decided capacity for your profession. Mr. F. is an




A "COMBINATION" DISSOLVED.


211


excellent judge, and full reliance may be placed
upon his representations.
" If you can further the wishes of Mr. Frost in
regard to this young man, you will much oblige
both him and your friend and obedient servant,
" S.S. PRENTISS."
The young friend of Judge Frost's was Mr. W.
W. W. Wood, a lawyer, and a very intelligent
man. After due preparation Mr. Wood appeared in the character of Bertram. His performance was respectable for a new beginner, but I
was satisfied, and told him so, he would never
succeed in tragedy; as a low comedian I thought
he might in time become a passable actor. He
had the good sense to give up all idea of adopting the stage as a profession; nevertheless, it so
happened in after years that he became quite a
popular low comedian in amateur theatricals.
He is not now living.
Another young lawyer from New Albany, Ind.,
came to me well introduced. He wanted to become a comedian. As there must necessarily
be new beginners in our profession as well as in
all others, I took his application into consideration, and promised him a business interview in a
day or two, in the interim giving him the freedom
of the theatre. The very first night he went into
the house he got drinking with some friends, and
became a maniac for the time being, kicking up
a general row, and fighting the policemen! Of
course, his lodging that night was in the calaboose. Next morning I received a note from
the poor fellow-his name was Nunemacherbegging me to visit him instantly, as he was accused of committing a murder! I hastened to
the prison, and found him in a cell with a dead
man, who bore on his neck marks of having been
strangled. "In God's name," said I, "what
does this mean?" His answer, through tears,
was, "You know as much about it as I do."
"Had you a quarrel with this man?" I inquired.
"So help me God," said he, "I never saw him
before this morning.  When I came to myself
-for I have no recollection of any thing that
passed last night-he was lying dead as you see
him, and now I am accused of murdering him."
"Do you think it possible that you could have
strangled him in your delirium?" I inquired.
"That's the worst of it," returned he, solemnly.
"I may have done it, but I can not think I did.
I was never drunk before, and don't know what


Mr. Prentiss, who joined me in investigating the
case. The young man's father arrived in due
time, and the innocence of his son was at length
made manifest without a trial. The noble Prentiss refused taking any fee, saying that, as I
seemed very much interested in the case, it was
enough fee for him to partake of the gratification
I experienced on seeing the young man set at liberty after a month's confinement in the city
prison.
I advised Mr. Nunemacher to go home and
"stick to the law," and he promised to do so.
We shall presently see whether he was cured of
his passion for the stage by the horible scenes he
had passed through, not to say his narrow escape
from the gallows for a murder he did not commit.
This was the cholera season. My partner retired to his villa in Mobile, and I was left to
make headway alone against the horrible epidemic as well as I could. General Taylor attended the theatre on the 1st of December, and
drew a tolerably good house. The business, as
a general thing, was very bad. C. D. Pitt, a
very good actor, played two very poor engagements, the receipts at his second benefit being
only $65! Cholera increased at a terrible rate
during December. " Old Logan" and daughter
played one night, and then fled from the pestilence, and they did perfectly right. A Mr. Flemming (any body would do for a star under such
circumstances) played to houses averaging about
$40. My partner, by letter, urged me to close.
The American was doing considerably better
than the St. Charles, and Place proposed we
should close the St. Charles and keep the American open! This proposition was decided in the
negative by a two thirds vote (to wit, my vote),
and then, not wishing, as he said, to " shoulder
his portion of the immense losses the St. Charles
was nightly sustaining," Mr. Lucius Place proposed we should each pay up his proportion of
the losses so far sustained and dissolve the coalition. "Upon this hint I spake, and, taking a
pliant hour," namely, that very moment in which
the proposition was made, I wrote out and offered the following resolution, which I need not
say was adopted unanimously:


" Whereas it is feared that there does not exist
in this board an entire unanimity with regard to
the policv it is proper to pursue in the present


a drunken man may do. Now, Mr. Smith, what situation of affairs, and during the existence of
I want you to do is to get me a lawyer, and send the cholera as an epidemic in New Orleans, it is
for my father."  I felt sure he was innocent of unanimously
"inv -  Resolved, That the coalition between the mancommitting any willful homicide, and nvestiga- agements of the St. Charles and American Theations since have satisfied me he had nothing trs * * * be, and the same is hereby amicably
whatever to do with the killing.  I employed dissolved, and each theatre shall hereafter be




212


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


conducted by the respective managements as if
no such coalition had existed-the managers of
the St. Charles relinquishing all claims on the
profits of the American, and the manager of
the American, in like manner, relinquishing all
claims upon the profits of the St. Charles, and
neither party to be responsible for the other's
losses; and it is hereby declared that all accounts are settled, and neither party owes the
other any thing."
The principal actors and actresses urged me to
close, and on the 26th of December there appeared posted in the greenroom a notice for a
meeting of the company and orchestra, to adopt
such measures as might be thought advisable, under existing circumstances, to relieve the management from farther losses by reason of keeping
the theatre open any longer during the prevalence of the epidemic. As soon as I saw the notice I wrote the following and caused it to be put
up in the greenroom. I heard no more of closing:
TO THE COMPANY.
Having seen a notice, unauthorized by the
management, for a meeting of the company at
12 o'clock this day, and having been informed
that the object of the proposed meeting is to submit a proposition that the theatre be closed for a
short time, or during the prevalence of the cholera as an epidemic, it is deemed proper to anticipate whatever proceedings may be contemplated
by stating1. I most cordially thank those members of the
company who have called the meeting, believing
-indeed, knowing-they were actuated by kindly feeling toward the management, and a desire
to share in the losses consequent upon the unexpected calamity which has visited the city.
2. All who, from fear of the cholera, wish to
leave New Orleans, are hereby released from their
engagements: their articles will be canceled tomorrow morning, and they will be paid to the
end of the theatrical week.
3. The St. Charles Theatre will remain open
every night without interruption, unless, from
sickness or desertion under the above permission, the company shall become so reduced that
pieces can not be respectably performed.
4. This notice is not prompted by any wish to
cast reproach on those who signed the notice for
a meeting of the company. On the contrary, the
undersigned is satisfied that the movement was
instigated by the best of motives.


count of sickness in a city. They are generally
the most fearless people in the world, and entirely willing to risk their lives in the midst of
an epidemic, provided the manager is responsible for salaries. I may say that, having my wife
and three children with me in New Orleans,
nothing would have suited me better than to
close up and retire from the pestilent city, but I
felt that, as the conductor of a public institution,
I owed the public and the company a duty which
I could not shrink from performing. Besides, I
have ever been of the opinion that we are in the
hands of God, and under his special care, and
there is no use in attempting to flee from cholera
or yellow fever; hence I have never hesitated a
moment in going into New Orleans when business (duty) called me there in any and all seasons of the year. Yet there are men, and good
men, who dare not and will not go where an epidemic prevails, and I do not question their right
to obey the dictates of their judgment, prompted
by their fears.
In the midst of this gloomy time, the receipts
having fallen down to $60, $50, and $40 a night,
I heard by accident of Mr. Hackett being in the
interior of Louisiana-hunting. The telegraph
was put into operation, and he was brought to
New Orleans in double-quick time. His arrival
was a perfect godsend. An arrangement was
made in a very few moments, for we had dealt
with each other so many years that but few
words were necessary between us, and he appeared as Jack Falstaff on the 4th of January
to a house counting nearly $400. Some of his
houses went even above that, and his benefit was
fine. His engagement was renewed, and the
business continued passably good to the end of
his second week.
Mr. James H. Hackett is the only man I know
or have heard of, save David Garrick, who at a
single bound leapt into the position of a firstclass actor. After receiving a classical education at Columbia College, he began the business
of life as a merchant in Utica, N.Y., in 1820,
and was so successful that he removed to New
York City in 1825, where, with a capital of
$20,000 and any amount of credit, he commenced to deal in teas and wines, cargoes of
Holland gin and French brandies, for a few
months being quite successful; but the summer
of that year was remarkable for the great and
sudden depreciation of goods in his line, and
being caught with a heavy amount of stock on
hand, more than his whole capital was sunk,
and he found himself a bankrupt! Assistance
was offered to "help him through" by many
friendly merchants, but he resolved to "stop"


SOL. SMITH.


December 26, 1848.


I record this as the only instance which ever
came under my observation of any considerable
number of a company of actors and actresses being willing that a theatre should close on ac



IACKETT, THE GREAT FALSTAFF.


213


and dispose of his stock in trade, in hopes of
paying all, or nearly all of his debts, which
amounted to some $40,000. His assets proved
about $6000 short of the mark. Determined to
pay all as soon as he could earn the money in
some other business, Mr. Hackett turned his attention to the stage, and in March, 1826, made
his appearance at the Park Theatre in the character of Justice Woodcock (Love IN A VILLAGE),
in imitation of old Jack Barnes! The imitation
was so true in voice and manner that many persons believed it was old Jack himself who was
performing before them, though it was with great
difficulty his face (being that of a young man)
could be " made up" to resemble that of the popular old comedian he was imitating.
Encouraged by his decided success on his first
appearance, he adopted the stage as a profession
in October of the same year, and in fifteen
months thereafter earned and devoted to a full
and final settlement with his creditors about
$6000, the greater portion of which he cleared
by getting up Shakspeare's COMEDY OF ERRORS,
old Jack Barnes playing Dronio of Syracuse,
and Hackett Dromio of Ephesus, and imitating
the personal peculiarities of Barnes to the absolute confusion of the audience in reference to
their proper and respective persons. Although
I never witnessed this performance, I well remember the sensation it produced, and I afterward (in 1837, I think) saw Mr. Hackett perform one of the Dromios, with Vincent De Camp
in the other, with equal success in the imitation.
Mr. Hackett's next attempt, I believe, was in
a local sketch entitled the MILITIA TRAINING,
in which he personated a Yankee character,
Captain Bunker, or Bunkum. He afterward
took upon himself the r6ole of Solomon Swap, a
Yankee, in an adaptation (by himself) of Colman's comedy of WHO WANTS A GUINEA? and
this was the beginning of what may be termed
the Yankee Drama in this country, leading to
the writing of many Yankee plays, in which the
Yankee Hills, the Yankee Marbles, and the Yankee Sillsbees had their being as " Yankee delineators." Mr. Hackett, leaving the Yankee characters to the new-comers, procured the writing
of the LION OF THE WEST,..... in which he
personated Colonel Wildfire, a Kentuckian, and
a little one-act piece entitled MONSIEUR MALLET, in which he played the part of an old French
exile in such a way that no other actor has ever
even attempted it. RIP VAN WINKLE was afterward added to his short list of characters, and in
this (an adaptation of his own from a London
play) he has remained without a rival to this
day, although a young actor has recently achieved


great and deserved success in a Boucicaulted version of the same piece. I should despair of finding a man or woman in an audience of five hundred who could hear Hackett's utterance of five
words in the second act, "But she was mine
vrow," without experiencing some moisture in
the eyes.
These few characters, with the addition of Sir
Pertinax MacSycophant, carried him through
many years of successful starring, during which
he was studying the character of Jack Falstaff
as created by William Shakspeare, and carried
rollicking through three plays. It is unnecessary to say what he was in this great character,
for what he was he is, and the present generation will agree with me that he is the Jack Falstaff of the present age, and stands without a rival in the character.
After Hackett came Mr. and Mrs. Conner,
Miss Brienti and Brough, and the Heron family, who all helped to keep us going without much
loss, if any, until the time when the great feature
of the season, MACREADY, was to appear, according to his engagement (being due on the 29th of
January); but he was one who did not implicitly
trust in Providence for his preservation through
an epidemic, and though, as I believe, a truly
conscientious and Christian man, he held back
persistently. I make no apology for inserting
all of his letters written about this time, as I
suppose my readers will be glad to read them,
if for no other reason than because they are his.
You will understand that most of these letters
are in answer to my urgent requests for him to
come on, which requests were not, however,
made until our Board of Health had officially
declared that cholera no longer existed as an
epidemic.
W. C. Macready to Sol. Smith.
Mansion House Hotel, Charleston, S. C.,
Jan. 10, 1849.
"DEAR SIR,-I have waited with much anxiety the arrival of the posts for an answer to my
telegraph to you from Washington, dispatched
last week. I need not tell you I have watched
with the keenest interest the daily reports of the
cholera's progress at New Orleans. To go there
while this disease is prevalent would be little
short of madness, and of course I can not be expected to incur such a risk.
"I will willingly wait here, or in this neighborhood, any reasonable time for its disappearance; and upon the notification of clean bills of
health, will instantly set out on my journey.
Can you obtain such information as may afford
you a probable guess, from the present state of
affairs, when this is likely to be, that I may be
fully prepared not to lose one day more than is
in reason unavoidable?
" Deeply groaning under this calamity, which




214


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


touches us both so sorely, but especially myself,
I remain, dear sir, yours very faithfully,
"W. C. MACREADY.
P. S.-I telegraphed you yesterday that I could
not be with you on the 29th January. This is a
grievous disappointment to me."
From the same to the same.
"Mansion House, Charleston, S. C., Jan. 13,1849.
"DEAR SIR,-Your telegraphic communication I received, dated January 8, with the statement-' Expect you 29th. Board of Health report
epidemic gone.' Upon which I dispatched by telegraph an answer, suggesting to you the impolicy of precipitating such an engagement as this
before the return of the people could give any
chance or hope of success to it. Nevertheless,
impolitic and unwise in the extreme as I should
regard such a measure, useless and worse than
useless to you, and to me the destruction of all
the results looked for from my visit to New Orleans, I should hold myself bound to go directly the health of the city justified me in so doing.
But the Board of Health must have been betrayed by some deceitful appearance on the 8th, for
here is the telegraph of January 10th-' Deaths
by cholera 48 in 48 hours.'
"Now, while this continues, indeed, until it
is clear that the pestilence has left the city, you
must not expect me. I stay away in idleness, and
my purpose in this country is frustrated by such
a calamity. I mention this to convince you that
my holding back is most reluctant, and assented
to only under a sense of duty. Yours, dear sir,
very truly,            W. C. MACREADY."
From the same to the same.
"Mansion House, Charleston, S. C., Jan. 16,1849.
"DEAR SIR,-Your favors of the 7th and 8th,
with the inclosures of slips from Picayune and
Bulletin, have come to hand.
" Notice by telegraph of ' 10th, N. O.,' and the
inclosed statement from this day's Charleston
Mercury, giving accounts to the 9th, make it
still questionable here as to the risk to be incurred in going to New Orleans and Mobile under the existence of the cholera in its present
condition.
"For perfect satisfaction and correct guidance
in the matter, I have taken professional advice,
consulting the leading physician here, and I lose
no time in forwarding you a copy of the certificate of his opinion, given after receiving information on my habits and constitution.
" It seems needless, my dear sir, to observe to
you how much I am embarrassed by this most
untoward event, and how anxious I must be to
turn to account every moment of my time in
this country. You may be assured that I shall
not lose a day, upon the knowledge of the disappearance of the disorder, in telegraphing you
of my coming on, and of my immediate setting
out.
"Had I been circumstanced as you unfortunately have been, I should have closed the theatre, as, under a visitation and calamity so grievous, all ought to bear their portion in its suffering. Believe me to remain, dear sir, always and
most truly yours,       W. C. MACREADY."


Physician's Certificate.
l" Charleston, Jan. 16,1849.
"Having been consulted byMr.W. C. Macready
as to the risks of cholera attendant upon the fulfillment of his engagement in New Orleans at
the present time, I have no hesitation in advising a postponement of his contemplated visit
until the evidence of the departure of that disease is more certain than it appears to me to be
at this time.         JAS. MOULTRIE, M.D.
"(Correct copy. W. C. M.)"
From the same to the same.
"Mansion House, Charleston, S. C., Jan. 19,1849.
"DEAR SIR,-Your peremptory telegraph of
the 15th I have received and answered.
"In such a question-no less, perhaps, than
that of life or death-wherein I should peril by
my imprudence other persons besides myself, I
must be allowed to exercise ordinary discretion,
and upon authentic private reports, as well as
public documents, together with information of
the state of the cities and country through which
we have to pass, submit the question of the propriety of going to New Orleans to the most com
petent medical authorities, and be guided by
them.
" Having coime thus far, and that almost solely
with the object of visiting New Orleans, my interest, and certainly my inclination, will urge
me forward directly I can understand that I shall
be acting with common prudence in going on;
but the justifiable caution I use is strongly
urged on me by persons here more capable than
myself of deciding on such a step.
" Mr. Wilson and Mad. Weiss have both aban
doned altogether their intended journey to New
Orleans.
"I only wait the needful satisfactory certifica
tions of the departure of the disease from my
route and my destination, and I will telegraph
you on the instant of my speedy setting out.
"With all good wishes, I am, dear sir, yours
very truly,             W. C. MACREADY."'
From the same to the same.
"Mansion House, Charleston, South Carolina,l
Saturday evening, January 20,1849.
"MY DEAR SIR,-Your letter of the 14th has
just reached me. I thank you for sending me
the telegraphic letter. The lines have been
broken.
" I have just seen a gentleman direct from ANew
Orleans. He was recommended to come away,
and dissuades from thinking of going till the
disorder, which he believes to be abating, is gone.
By telegraph I have dates 14th and 15th, which
give a daily mortality with the disorder that
make apparent the reasonableness of the course
I adopt. I will (anxiously) wait the departure
of this pestilence to the last moment of my
power, and DIRECTLY that I can understand from
competent persons here that I may encounter
the journey, I will telegraph you of my instant
preparation to set out. But I must know that
my course is clear before I start.
"Believe me to be very truly yours,
"W. C. MACREADY."




MACREADY WILL NOT COME WHERE INFECTION IS.


215


From the same to the same.
"Mansion House, Charleston, S. C., Jan. 18,1849.
"DEAR SIR,-I need not say how heartily I
rejoice in all the good news you can send me.
It is a selfish subject of congratulation with me.
But to the dates you send me-' 9th' and ' 10th'
-I have 11th.' ' New Orleans, seventeen interments from cholera.' By the same intelligence
we read of the 'death of Judge Lacy, Supreme
Court, at Mobile;' and it is understood here that
the disease is prevalent at Montgomery, Mobile,
and all along the Alabama River! The opinion
of the medical men here, and, indeed, general
opinion, is, that I should not be justified in makmg the journey till more decisive evidences of
the subsidence of the pestilence. My health
would not warrant the risk of entering boats or
houses where infection is. I need not observe
to you what a crushing blow to my prospects
this disaster is; but there is no help for it. I will
wait here in the hope of each day's news rapidly
dispersing the obstructions in my way. The
telegraph lines have been broken between Mobile and this city; I have heard it suspectedpurposely. I ended here last night.
"Yours very truly,   W. C. MACREADY."
From the same to the same.
" Savannah, Ga., January 2, 1849.
"DEAR SIR, —Yourjletters of the 15th and 16th
I have this moment received, in which you urge
the necessity of my coming to New Orleans, and
inform me the 'postponement of my engagement can not be thought of,' stating the 'cholera is over.'
"I shall be truly sorry if the postponement of
my arrival should interfere with my engagement, because it is most reluctant on my part,
and I have come thus far upon my route to New
Orleans, that city being really the object of my
Southern journey. But, losing my time, as I unfortunately am doing here-for this dribbling
work is nothing but loss of time-I can not hazard my health (quite weak and uncertain enough
already) and the safety of those with me by going
into a city where disease is prevalent. You write
tOme on the 15th of January that ' the cholera is
over,' and my accounts at Charleston are-' New
Orleans, January 14th, deaths by cholera, 23;
January 15th, 17.'
"On Saturday I saw a gentleman of the very
first respectability, U. S. N., who left New Orleans on the 12th because he had been advised
to do so on account of the disorder.
"This delay is at serious war with my interest, but no obligation, legal or honorable, lies on
me to go where infection is, or where it has been,
until certified beyond contradiction of its departure.
In the newspapers that give the announcement
of the Board of Health that the epidemic has
ceased is the enumeration of the interments of
cholera patients! If in your view the postponement of the engagement is tantamount to a nullification of it, I shall be truly grieved, because I
am prepared to wait to the latest reasonable day
for the assurance of safety in proceeding. I am
diligent in my inquiries at each place where information can be obtained, and directly I can


know that I ought to go forward I will telegraph
you to that effect. I can do no more.
" With every kind wish, I am, dear sir, yours
very truly,             W. C. MACREADY."
From the same to the same.
"Mansion House, Charleston, S. C., Jan. 29,1849.
"DEAR SIR,-I am in receipt of your two letters, arrived together this morning, dates 21st,
22d inst. In the first you seem to take offense
at the expression of my telegraphic notice, which
I very much regret, as I would not on any account have used a word that should seem wanting in respect or regard; but I chose direct terms
in order to convey to you in the least number
of words the decision I had taken-and that most
reluctantly -after submitting the case of my
state of health to the first medical opinion here,
and receiving his strong recommendation not to
go to New Orleans while the appearance of disease remained. I am sorry you should suppose
that I could intentd any thing unkind or discourteous in tone or purpose, than which nothing
was farther from my thoughts. The delay has
been to me a serious disappointment and loss,
and it is with extreme anxiety I have been watching daily the reports from your city for information that would justify me in advancing.
"My reports of deaths by cholera reach up to
the 18th inst. Now, my dear sir, it is not reasonable to expect that even a person in sound health,
much less one whose system is much shaken,
should go where infection is, and in this opinion both medical and the best legal opinions
concur.
" In to-day's report I find that the cholera had
entirely subsided at New Orleans on the 24th. I
shall therefore take steps immediately for such
arrangement of my baggage, etc., as may prevent the loss of farther time, and (D. V.) will
start by rail on Wednesday morning; but even
now shall not be able to go by the river, so that in
what condition I may reach you I can not guess.
" Will you oblige me by taking rooms for meparlor and bedroom? I have my meals served
in my own apartments. On my former visit they
made an arrangement for me of this kind at
Hewlett's, where I received every attention;
perhaps they would not be indisposed to do the
same again. If they should object I should prefer the St. Charles. Hamlet must be my opening play.
"With every kind wish, I remain, dear sir,
yours very truly,       W. C. MACREADY."
From the same to the same.
l" Charleston, S. C., January 31,1849.
"DEAR SIR,-Yesterday, on receipt of your
telegraphic inquiry, I dispatched an answer that,
God willing, you might rely on me for the 12th
of February. I had arranged to leave this morning, but am not at all well to-day, having been
troubled with serious irritation of the trachea
and general derangement of system, which I
fancy is attributable to the very great heat we
experience here. I shall set out to-morrow
morning, that I may, in case of need, take some
rest on my journey, or arrive in time to push
our business forward by some preliminary re



216


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


hearsals. I think I mentioned Hamlet for our
opening play.
"I trust to meet you in better health than I
am at this writing, and that I may be in good
condition for my morning's start.
" With kindest wishes, I am, dear sir, most
truly yours,          W. C. MACREADY."
A letter from "Old Logan," written about
this time, will give some idea of the exaggerated
reports which went forth from the Crescent City
concerning the ravages of the cholera there, as
well as some account of theatrical matters m
Cincinnati and elsewhere:
C. A. Logan to Sol. Smith.
"Pittsburg, Pennsylvania, January 18,1849.
"(I believe it's the 18th, but, like Sir George Thunder,
all log reckonings have gone wrong with me lately.)
" MY DEAR SMITH,-When a merchant receives
intelligence that his ship which he thought lost,
and, to heighten the picture, having his favorite
son aboard, who went out to visit foreign parts,
is safe, son, cargo, and all, even so, like unto his
sensations, to-day, when I received your most
welcome letter, were mine to hear that you were
safe, family and all. In this letter you refer to
one I never received, else I should tell you now
how cruel it was in you not to write-never to
pay any regard to the imploring tone of the note
written to you from Cairo. But I'll say nothing, as you doubtless wrote a letter, which miscarried.
"On reaching home, I found that the eresipaluns (I don't know how to spell it) in my wife's
face was nearly cured, but her fears for Eliza
and myself were so extreme that an observer
would have been puzzled to judge from her mingled weeping and laughter whether she was glad
or sorry for our safe return.
"Bates holds the scales of justice with an
even hand. He very properly allows no extraneous circumstances, such as cholera, or any
other thing which is not business matter, to weigh
a feather in the scale. When I returned to Cincinnati, no offer of immediate employment was
made to me. When I left for the South, in December, I myself arranged the business of the
theatre in view of my absence for six weeks,
and when I returned unexpectedly, of course I
could not hope they would alter it. There was
a clamor in the town for my new piece, when it
was known I had arrived, and it would have
drawn, but my bosom friend Sarzedas argued
that, as Bates had bought a copy of the play, it
could be done without me, and 'so save $62 per
week, the salary of the family, besides those constantly recurring benefits which' (albeit Bates
always took the lion's share of, still) 'injured so
much the previous and subsequent nights.'
" I didn't stop to argue the question, but, like
Rob Roy, I took to the mountain and the glen.
Potter, a notorious man whom I had never seen,
having heard, I suppose, that I did not return to
the National, came to me and offered terms for
Columbus, Ohio.
"' Have you a theatre there?'
"'A very fine hall," said he.
"' How much will it hold?'


"'We've had $90 in,' said he, boastingly.
"'How much of the receipts will you give
me?'
"' Twenty per cent. and half benefits.'
"' Done,' said I; ' done,' said he, and we went.
"We played four nights, and on the fifth Eliza
squeezed $119 50 in a room not more than four
times the size of the office of your Board. The
last theatre we had played in was the St. Charles,
the next was the Columbus!
" Eliza said to Potter (imprudently, and I reproved her for the bad taste of the remark) that
she had never seen such an apt illustration of
the contiguity of the sublime and the ridiculous.
"I resolved not to return to Cincinnati immediately, because I determined not to be questioned by my friends respecting the unusual incident of my being idle. There are many relations between Bates and myself which it is not
necessary to enter into a discussion of, or explanation of, to every body one meets in the
street, but to You I say that, had his situation
and mine been reversed, I should have thrown
wide open the door, and said, 'Come in; there's
your old seat reserved for you by the fire.'
" Self, self, self! How a man will talk of himself! Pshaw! In looking over what I have written about my own affairs, I feel ashamed that
I'm bothering with my trifling grievances:my
friend, who is in, perhaps, really serious difficulties.
"The editors are all beginning, I believe, to
think that I have some morbid idea about cholera, for, when I enter their offices, I at once inquire for the latest dates from New Orleans.
This anxiety is to find out whether you are still
open, or if any deaths have occurred in your
company.
" Later dates than your letter of to-day have
reached me. The disease is abating, they say.
Whenever you say, 'Logan, come,' I'll start, but
I know you will not say this until the proper
time. At the same time, I feel it due to myself
to say that I hereby release you from any kind
of engagement with me or with my daughter.
When the city becomes healthy, stars will be apt
to crowd on you, and your whole season may
be filled up. In such case, do not consider ile
for a moment. We met in friendship, lived in
friendship, parted in friendship, and no mere
theatrical business, which is so apt to dull all the
better feelings of our manhood, shall ever, as
far as Iam concerned, disturb the esteem I feel
for you-the esteem of one honorable man for
another.
"Murdoch is here, and he asks me to speak
to you for him. I devote the next page to his
business. I write what he dictates.
"Half an hour has elapsed. Murdoch's business shall be stated on another sheet. I wonder
how much you'll have to pay for this manuscript! Talking of paying reminds me of the
$25 you were kind enough to lend me. If your
former letter to me had not miscarried, I should
inclose the sum in this. It might be a drop in
the ocean of your misfortunes. But if this package, with its inclosure, should be lost, like your
first letter, it would be, situated as I am, an increase of my recent ill luck.




GREAT ENGAGEMENT OF MACREADY-ASTOR PLACE RIOT.


217


"9 o'clock Sunday night, January 21.
" (That's the right date.)
"Just seen Murdoch; frightened at cholera;
declines treating for New Orleans at present;
asks me to send regrets, etc.
" Just heard that Harry Grattan is dead. Still
address me at home; I shall be there before your
letter.
" Can't get any better paper, so I had to make
this bungling packgage.
" Trusting that you'll keep your health and
recover all losses, I remain       LOGAN.
"i P.S.-If I had a quire or two more of paper,
I suppose I should fill them up to-night, and send
them to you; but I have written up all the paper
in the house, and it's too late to send for more,
so I trust you'll excuse the extreme brevity of
my epistle."
CHAPTER VI.
THE long-looked-for Macready came at last,
and opened on the 12th of February to a house
of $1304 75! The great tragedian consented to
do what he had not done elsewhere-play consecutive nights (except Sundays), thus saving us
from the terrible losses of " off nights;" but at
the end of the first week he remonstrated as follows:
W. C. Macready to Sol. Smith.
"Hewlett's Exchange, Saturday.
"MY DEAR SIR,-In the most friendly spirit,
and with an instinct of self-preservation (I mean
pecuniarily), I warn you against persisting in this
suicidal act of playing every night. The feeling
of your supporters is AGAINST it. Not even the
population of LONDON can sustain it. I will not
stop, because I will not make you uncomfortable; but a sense of duty to you and to myself
(seeing as I do the possible destruction of an engagement that promised such great things) obliges
me to caution you, and on my own part to protest against the policy you are pursuing. There!
I have discharged my conscience, and now do as
you please; you shall not have one word more.
"Most sincerely your friend,
"W. C. MACREADY."
But I was obdurate, having so much leeway t
make up, and he bravely went through his task,
playing to great houses for four weeks! Vandenhoff and Ryder gave Macready a good support, and the rest of the company were fully up
to the mark of his expectations and wishes. I
doubt whether JULIUS C2ESAR was ever better
performed out of London than it was in the St.
Charles, Mr. Macready playing Brutus to Mr.
Vandenhoff's Cassius one night, and reversing
the cast on the next night; the same with Othello and lago.
Mr. Macready, at the close of his engagement,
after playing in Louisville, went to New York,
and was there unjustly and cowardly driven from


the stage of the Astor Place Opera House by
a cabal, under the pretense that he had done
something the year previously against the interests of an American actor in England! There
never was a more unjust persecution than that
which he was subjected to, and all decent New
Yorkers are heartily ashamed of the whole affair.
I anticipate a little in order to give an extract
from a letter written by my stage manager, W.
H. Chippendale, relative to the lamentable affair.
at the Astor Place Opera House in New York.
He was, I believe, concerned in the management
of that theatre at the time of the massacre.
"MY DEAR MR. SMITH, -Yours received. I
give you my address, because I am now out of
place, being stoned out of my last situation.
" Did you ever play in MACBETH with the theatre in a state of siege? No, you never did!
I HAVE! yes, sir! I have assisted to sing the
beautiful music of that tragedy with a full accompaniment of paving-stones, and the rioters
at the stage door keeping indifferent time with
battering-rams in the act of bursting it open.
The hero of the night behaved as cool as a cucumber, and, indeed, so did all the corps dramatique. A few in the orchestra were alarmed,
though the leader protested his alarm was on account of his fiddle, not himself. I was determined to work the bill out, so the farce was pretty well on when death ensued, and it became
proper to stop. Had the mob got possession of
the house, my calculation is from two to three
hundred lives would have been lost, and the
house would have been fired. It was a solemn
affair, and solemn has been the lesson.
"At the Broadway Forrest's engagement diminished to nothing, or next to it-some $170
taken the last two nights. It was in bad taste
for the management, under the afflicting circumstances of the time, to urge its fulfillment. I
feel well assured it was against Forrest's wish."
The Monplaisir troupe followed Macready,
and played and danced a tolerable engagement,
after which came Julia Dean, who played a fine
one. Julia (bless her!) never failed to draw
good houses. The season closed with the last
performances in New Orleans of Dan Marble, on
the 10th of April, without loss!
The "American" closedprenmaturely, as usual.
A theatre in Lafayette, a suburb of New Orleans, was opened under the management of a
Mr. Oliver this season. The prevalence of the
cholera blighted any prospect there might have
been of success. The company was composed
principally of new beginners, and their salaries
were to be paid in various commodities, such as
the manager stipulated to -receive of the citizens
for tickets. It was a stipulation in each article
of agreement (so the manager told me) that
every actor should take a portion of his salary
in coffins, should he need any!-that is to say,




218


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


if he should die during the season, he should be
buried on account; the style of coffin, number of
carriages, and so forth, to be regulated by the
amount due at the time of his demise.
I had a fellow feeling for this manager, and
when he asked me to act one night for him, assuring me I could fill the house at double prices,
I could not refuse him, though I doubted very
much whether my acting would add any thing
to his receipts. Manager Oliver was right, however, and I had the pleasure of playing the Mock
Duke in the HONEYMOON to one of the most
crowded audiences I had ever acted to. Of
course, under the circumstances, I would take
no pay for my night's services, though the grateful manager offered me a clear half of the receipts.
The season failed totally, the manager left for
parts unknown, and next season, after a vain attempt by one Hicky to resuscitate the drama by
presenting some horrible representations (or misrepresentations rather) of Yankee character, the
theatre took fire one day and was burned to the
ground. Lafayette is too near New Orleans to
give an efficient support to a theatre.
As I shall have no farther occasion to make
mention of Mr. Macready, all my business connections with him having terminated with this
season, I take leave to record here the error to
which I think he-the best Hamlet I ever sawcommits while performing that character; and
not he only, but every actor I have seen attempt
the part. I refer to the using of realpictures in
what is termed the "closet scene." What I
have to say on this matter I will entitle
Whole Lengths, Half Lengths, and Miniatures.
"Look here upon this picture, and on this."
At the age of fourteen years I first perused the
plays of Shakspeare. The inside of a theatre I
had never seen, yet the "situations" of the various characters forming the dramatis personae
of the plays of the great author were as palpably
fixed in my mind at that time as they were in
after years, when regulated by rehearsals, under
the direction of capable stage-managers; and
now, after thirty years' actual experience in theatrical management, having been in business relations with all the great actors and actresses of
the age, and having learned their various conceptions and ideas of "situations" and "effects," as
evinced in their respective performances, I am
convinced that my first impressions were generally correct, and that many of the traditional
stage situations and arrangements, as well as
some of the " new readings" of modern perform

ers, will not, in all instances, bear the test of
criticism.
At the early age I speak of, Hamlet was my
favorite play. I could recite nearly every line
of it. My young brothers and myself spent
hours, if not days, in speaking the dialogues of
this great play. The scene between Hamlet and
the ghost of his father was an especial favorite
with my brother M. and myself, and we became
as perfect in the words as we were in the Lord's
Prayer, or " Now I lay me down to sleep."
During my early acquaintance with the works
of Shakspeare it did not once occur to my youthful mind that Hamlet is really a madman. I
thought in my innocence that he " essentially is
not in madness, but mad in craft" (as he says);
but volumes having since been written to prove
that he is actually a madman, and, on the other
side, that he only assumes madness the more effectually to work out his purposes and encompass the avenging of his father's murder, I suppose there is a doubt upon the matter, and my
boyish judgment must have been premature in
deciding so summarily what had been then and
is still considered so knotty a point; yet I am
free to say that my riper judgment confirms that
of the boy, and I at this moment side with those
who think that Shakspeare's Hamlet, so far from
being a madman, is the most sensible, philosophic, sound-minded individual of all the characters created by the immortal bard.
Much has been written during the last one
hundred years, and much more will doubtless be
written during the next hundred years, on the
disputed point, raised, I believe, in the time of
Garrick, whether, in the closet scene, so-called,
of the tragedy of Hamlet (Act iii., Scene 4), there
should be large portraits of the late and reigning
kings hanging on the walls, or miniature likenesses of those royal personages in the possession of the queen and her son. Commentators
differ on this question. Steevens favors the idea
that when Hamlet says
"Look here upon this picture, and on this,"
he has reference to two full-length portraits,
being part of the furniture of the queen's closet;
because, he argues, Hamlet, who in a former
scene had censured those who gave high prices
for his uncle's "pictures in little" (miniatures),
would hardly have condescended to carry such a
thing in his pocket.
Modern Hamlets get over this difficulty by
carrying their deceased father's "pictures in little" suspended to a ribbon about the neck, while
the queen very accommodatingly carries that of
her present husband suspended by a ribbon about




WHOLE LENGTHS, HALF LENGTHS, OR MINIATURES?-OR NEITHER? 219


her neck, ready for her son to seize upon at the
proper time.
Malone says: "The introduction of miniatures
in this place appears to be a modem innovation.
A print prefixed to Rowe's edition of Hamlet,
published in 1709, proves this. There, the two
royal portraits are exhibited as half lengths,
hanging in the queen's closet; and either thus,
or as whole lengths, they probably were exhibited from the time of the original performance
of this tragedy to the death of Betterton. To
half lengths, however, the same objection lies as
to miniatures."
I shall never forget the singular sensation I
experienced when, on first witnessing a stage
representation of this great play, I saw Mr. Collins-it was at the old Columbia Street Theatre,
Cincinnati-make use of real pictures (miniatures), worn by the actor and actress in the manner heretofore indicated. I laughed outright; I
couldn't help it. Seeing Hamlet directing the
attention of his mother to the little pictures, the
idea instantly crossed my mind that presently, if
the scene was to be carried through in the same
literal manner, he would be compelled to attempt
a somewhat difficult feat; for the queen says:
" Oh I Hamlet, speak no more:
Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul;
And there I see such black and grained spots
As will not leave their tinct."
And farther on, when the conscience-stricken
queen likened his words to daggers, if Hamlet
had not in a previous scene given his princely
word to the audience that he would " speak daggers, but use none," I should have expected to
see him draw a couple of those efficient stage
properties; and again, when afterward the queen
exclaimed,
" Oh Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain!"
the vision of a butcher's cleaver actually swung
before my eyes!
The truth is, the introduction of real pictures
into this scene had never entered into my mind;
and though I now find that all actors use them,
to me they appear entirely out of place.
This is my theory:
The pictures drawn by Hamlet for his mother's
contemplation-"the counterfeit presentment of
two brothers"-are these:
PICTUTRE I.-HIB FATHER.
"See what a grace was seated on this brow:
Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself;
An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;
A station like the herald Mercury,
New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill;
A combination and a form indeed,
Where every god did seem to set his seal,
To give the world assurance of a man:
This was your husband."


If Hamlet is exhibiting to his mother a real
picture, why speak of the grace that was seated
on his brow? Why say that " every god did set
his seal?" etc. Why not speak of the picture as
it appears at the time of its exhibition, and say,
"See what a grace is seated on his brow?" etc.
PICTURE II.-HIS UNCLE.
" Look you, now, what follows:
Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear,
Blasting his wholesome brother. *  *  *
*   *   *   *   *   What judgment
Would step from this to this?
A murderer and a villain;
A slave, that is not twentieth part the tithe
Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings;
A cut-purse of the empire and the rule,
That from a shelf the precious diadem stole,
And put it in his pocket; a king
Of shreds and patches-"
The filling out of the second picture is cut off
by the entrance of the ghost of the original of the
first; but both are so truthfully drawn-in outline, so to speak-that the wife recognizes her
two husbands, and beseeches her son to " speak
no more." It must be observed that, during the
exhibition of those speaking likenesses to the
queen, there is not one word said to justify the
belief that the author contemplated the use of
either whole lengths, half lengths, or miniatures
in illustration of the scene. On the contrary,
when the queen, pricked by her awakened conscience, becomes tired of the pictures called up
to the view of her mind's eye by her son, she entreats him-(to take them  away? hide them
from her sight? no!)-to "speak no more;"
and this she does three different times.
According to my reading, the text of Shakspeare affords no authority whatever for the introduction of pictures of any kind as "properties" in the closet scene of the tragedy of HAMLET; and I hope to see our actors break through
the traditionary manner of rendering this scene,
so long persisted in, and give it in the way the
author undoubtedly intended it should be given
-drawing the pictures before the mental vision
of the queen in words which," like daggers, enter into her ears," "turn her eyes into her soul,"
and " cleave her heart in twain."
In the name of all that is reasonable, let us
have no more whole lengths, half lengths, nor
miniatures, daubed upon canvas or ivory, for
this scene, when Shakspeare has given us the
two pictures ready to our hand, drawn by his
matchless pen, and handed down to us by types
and printers' ink. Or, if actors will have " real
pictures," I must insist that there be also provided a looking- glass of some kind-either a
good-sized article to hang against the wall, a
pier-glass, or a pocket mirror (perhaps one on




220


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


the back of a pocket hair-brush would do); for
it will be remembered that the prince says to
his mother, in the beginning of the scene,
"Come, come, and sit ye down; you shall not budge;
You go not till I set you up a glass
Where you may see the inmost part of you."
As a farther improvement, this scene might
be illustrated by getting up-" regardless of expense'"-a moving panorama of the two royal
brothers, the elder, a very commanding figure,
standing in a Mercurial attitude, as if
"New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill,"
and the younger, a very diminutive specimen of
humanity (being, as Hamlet avers, not a twentieth part of the tithe of the "precedent lord"),
dressed in a shabby suit of " shreds and patches, "
in a sneaking attitude, and in the act of stealing
from a shelf a precious diadem; with a background representing the " mountain" which the
queen is asked if she could " leave to feed," and
the " moor" she is asked if she could "batten
on;" the whole illuminated with blue fire or calcium lights: to conclude with a grand transformation scene!
I will close this chapter with a letter received
by me about this time from that noble, generous,
genial gentleman, ex-President Lamar, of Texas
Mirabeau B. Lamar to Sol. Smith.
"Galveston, Texas, 10th January, 1849.
"DEAR SOL,-If, in consequence of my long
silence, you have been induced, as I fear you
have, to drop me from your 'list of friends,' I
hope you will not deny me the privilege, under
fair explanation, of reinstating myself in your
good graces. Our acquaintance began at that
halcyon. period of life when the heart is most
susceptible of strong and lasting impressions;
and I can assure you, my old friend, that the attachment which then grew up between us, making us two as one man, has not been weakened
in me by the flight of years, but, on the contrary,
it has rather been improved by time, the great
maturer, which converts the flowers of spring
into the ripe and pleasant fruits of autumn. My
life, like your own, has been somewhat checkered by adventure; but I account it one of the
greatest blessings of Fortune that, amid aH her
buffetings, she has not deprived me of the cheerful companion of my happier days-the ' friend
of my soul' —my old Sol Smith. A three-years'
entombment of myself in Mexico and the frontier wilds has prevented my receiving your little
book, which you kindly dedicated to me, and
which now meets my sight for the first time.
Its laughing tone and animated stories show
that you have not lost the joyous spirit of your
younger years; that you are still the man of ' infinite jest,' in spite of all your ups and downs;
and surely, my friend, if the ancients were right
in saying that a brave man struggling with adversity was a sight worthy of the gods, I know


of no claimant more worthy of their favors than
yourself —than you, who have contributed so
much to lighten the burdens of others while
bravely bearing your own. You have 'played
many parts' in your time, have played them all
well, and most certainly none better than that
of the true 'philosopher and friend.' Then
'here's a double health to thee,' old Sol. Long
life and a happy one to him who knows how to
enjoy prosperity with gratitude, and whose happy alchemy of mind can turn even misfortune
into pleasantry. 'All the world's a stage;' but
the 'farce, tragedy, and comedy' of life will soon
be over. Let us then, my friend, endeavor so
to act the parts assigned us here as may secure
to us a good cast and full benefits in that sublimer
THEATRE which will be opened hereafter by the
great MANAGER above, when the universe shall
be the audience and eternity the curtain.
"Your friend, MIRABEAU B. LAMAR."
CHAPTER VII.
A PRELIMINARY season was made at St.
Louis, in the spring of 1849, with the Monplaisir
troupe. The dramatic season commenced with
Dan Marble as the star. This was poor Dan's
last engagement. Cholera prevailing, he was
fearful of taking it. His final benefit and last
performance on earth took place on the night of
Saturday, the 12th of May. The last piece he
appeared in was ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE, in
which he personated Diggory. It was my intention to go with him to Louisville. He secured berths for us both in the steamer Washington, and seemed highly gratified he was to have
my company on the voyage. Something happened to prevent my going, and I shall never forget his despondent look when I told him so. " If
you were along I should'feel safe," said he; "but
by myself, I know I shall be taken down-I know
I shall." I tried to encourage him, and to convince him we were in the hands of Providence
all the time, whether on land or water, but could
not. He wrung my hand at parting, saying,
" Sol, I feel as if we shall never meet again.
Good-by; you have been a good friend to me.
God bless you!" And so we parted, and my
eyes never saw Dan any more! He kindly undertook to carry some money to Paducah for
me. In due time I received a letter, dated on
the Ohio River, informing me that, the boat passing in the night, he had paid the money over to
a Mr. Jones, who had promised to dispose of it
for me as requested; but three days before the
receipt of that letter we had intelligence of poor
Dan's death at Louisville! He had been "taken
down," sure enough, as his presentiment told
him he would be, and, having no friend to tend




EARLY EXPERIENCES OF MARK SMITH.


221


on him on the boat, the disease (cholera) had
got such a hold on him that, on his arrival at
Louisville, all medical skill failed in his case.
The Rev. Charles Parsons (ex-tragedian) attended on him in his last moments, and administered the consolations of religion; but the last
thoughts and words of the dying comedian were
of his wife and children. I have been sorry ever
since I did not go with poor Dan on that voyage
to Louisville. If I could not (under Providence)
have saved him, I should at least experience the
satisfaction of having done for him all that a man
could do for a dying friend.
Melinda Jones played a few nights to poor
houses. The cholera had now become an epidemic. Next came George Holland, my worthy
old friend and partner in Montgomery, Alabama.
And though the houses he drew were none of
the fullest, I tried to amuse him as well as I
could by driving him around the suburbs; but
somehow we met so many funerals, and passed
so many grave-yards, that his spirits could not be
raised to a very high pitch. Then came the
great fire, which was to ruin St. Louis, but did
not-quite the contrary, for it was built up better than ever. Mrs. Farren, Mr. and Mrs. J.
M. Field, Mr. C. D. Pitt, and the Heron family
followed on in the regular course, and Mdlle.
Blangy closed the season-not a very profitable
one.
The season of 1849-50 in New Orleans began
November 10th. Mr. Benedict De Bar was engaged as stage manager, and continued as such
during the remaining time of my management.
Julia Dean, the ever-successful young actress,
played three brilliant engagements. Mr. Buchanan played a week to the worst kind of business. Blangy was moderately successful. The
Heron family pleased the sparse audiences who
came to see them; and Hudson, a very clever actor of Irish characters, and a worthy gentleman,
did very well for a fortnight. Hackett and Murdoch again visited us (the former had been hunting up country somewhere), and were successful
as usual. Then came the great card of the season, Charlotte Cushman (supported by Mr. Couldock), who played to great houses for twentyseven nights. Mr. and Mrs. C. D. Pitt followed,
with poor success. Mr. Pitt's benefit receipts
(gross) were only $81! The season closed
March 29th, with a good balance on the right
side of the cash-book. If I remember rightly,
the American had a failing season, its manager,
R. L. Place (brother of Lucius), dying a few days
before its opening. Miss Eliza Petrie, so long a
member of our company, had married this Mr.
Place the year before, and now became a widow,


but inherited nothing from her deceased husband
but debts! Miss Petrie deserved a better lot.
My son Marcus Smith became a member of
the St. Charles company this season. It was
not my intention that any of my children should
adopt the stage as a profession, but two of them
have done so-Mark and Sol, Jr. After educating Mark as well as my cramped means would
allow, I apprenticed him to the printing business; btut, for good causes, he soon left the office
where I had placed him, and came to me at New
Orleans. At his earnest request, I arranged for
him to go in a sailing ship to Liverpool, with the
view of practically learning navigation. In the
voyage outward and back he learned as much as
he wanted to of that business. He next became a member of a " Phalanx" in Ohio, which
breaking up in about a year after its formation,
he went to work with Miles Greenwood, in
Cincinnati, to learn the iron-finishing business.
Mark next came to New Orleans, and engaged
himself to work at' an establishment in Algiers,
opposite New Orleans. I left him there one
spring, but, before I had returned in the fall, the
bird had flown. There had been a "strike" in
the foundery, and Mark had struck with the rest
-while the iron was hot, I suppose. He went
to New York City, and not succeeding in procuring employment as an iron-finisher (not trying
very hard to do so, I suspect), when his money
gave out he applied at the Chatham Theatre for
an engagement. Telling the manager whose
son he was, employment was immediately given
him, and he was rated on the salary-list at $6 per
week. With the experience he had had when a
child as Tom Thumb, Cora's baby, young Count
Wintersen, one of the young Heywoods, and sundry Apparitions in MACBETH, Mark very soon
became proficient in going on in groups, and
carrying spears and banners, and shortly aspired
to speaking parts in village gatherings and mobs
of citizens; he was, moreover, considered one
of the best shouters and chorus singers in the
company. He rose so fast in the profession that
Hamblin engaged him for the Bowery the next
season at $8 per week! I have witnessed his
efforts at the latter-named house, and, without
partiality, I must declare that Mark earned his
money. I have seen him toil through a leading
heavy part in a drama, and go on in the melodrama which followed in five or six parts! He,
in connection with another actor, wrote or adapted a piece for the Misses Denin which was played many times successfully. At last the time
came when his frequent applications to be enrolled in my company were to meet with a favorable response. He was engaged for the St.




222


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


Charles at $12 per week for general respectable
utility.
The following extract from an editorial report
Df the opening of the St. Charles Theatre for the
Season of 1849-50 will show that young Mark
appeared upon the stage of his native city with a
fair chance of attaining popularity:
"FAMILY JARS was then performed, in which
Sol Smith, as Old Delph, kept the house in a continued roar of laughter. In this character he is
certainly unapproachable. Mr. Marcus Smith,
as Diggory, made his first d6but before an audience in his native city. He evinces much talent,
and is a worthy scion of a worthy stock. They
were applauded to the echo, and 'take my hat'
was twice the cry of enthusiastic admirers as
they flung their beavers at the feet of Old Sol.
The Messrs. Smith, Sr. and Jr., when FAMILY
JARS were settled, were called for amid an uproar. The former made a handsome speech on
the occasion:
" ' Twenty-two years ago,' said he, 'before the
birth of my son, I trod the boards in this city in
the identical character which I have enacted
this evening. The kindness with which you
then received me has been generously continued
throughout my professional career. In the
course of nature, it is not probable that I shall
remain long among you as an actor, but I leave
my son to take my place, and if he be so fortunate as to receive the same testimonies of regard
and kind consideration from the inhabitants of
his native city which his father has received, he
will have nothing to regret. Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you for him and for myself.'"
The other son, who adopted the theatrical
profession the very day he became of age (Sol.
Smith, Jr.), has, at the time I write (1868), been
on the stage about ten years, and is a good actor.
He is now performing in New York City, but
most of his experience has been had in the Western cities, Boston, and the provincial theatres in
England.
One might suppose that the young man Nunemacher, of New Albany, would have been cured
of his desire to become an actor by the circumstances by which he became surrounded on the
night when he first visited a theatie the year
previously. Not so. Read the following letter
from that gentleman, written about eight or nine
months after his adventure in the calaboose. and
narrow escape from arraignment before the Criminal Court on the charge of murder:
Vint S. Nunemacher to Sol. Smith.
"New Albany, November 11, 1849.
"Mr. Solomon Smith, New Orleans, La.:
"SIR,-The termination of our short acquaintance during the course of last winter was not of
a nature to warrant me in trespassing upon your
good nature in the manner I now do, and were
it not that, whatever may be your answer, I am


assured it will be made in kindness, I would be
silent.
"To be brief, I have determined to quit the
law and go upon the stage-not because I could
not hope for success at the former, but because
I could not enjoy myself at it. I am not so presumptuous as to aspire to tragedy. I would
rather make people laugh than cry. I know
nothing about the stage, but am prepared for
all the trials and troubles of an actor's life. I
would go upon the stage with the hope and intention of making a fine actor, for I have arhbition. I am a perfect novice, but I can be industrious. These are the facts in the case. Am I
in the least available? A candid answer is requested.
"Now I can guess very well what you will
perhaps say. You will advise me not to be rash,
to reflect, and all that. I've done so. You will
warn me of the loss of friends, and all that. I'm
prepared for it. My true friends will not respect me any the less. I do not care a straw for
others. I am going on the stage, now or soon,
some way or other, and if you will take me under your wing, it will save me the trouble of
applying to some one in whom I can not have
one hundredth part -of the confidence I have in
you.
"So, sir, what say you? You were kind enough
to say last winter that, should the opportunity
happen, you would be happy to render me any
service, and you can do it now. Pardon the
gaucherie of reminding you of that, my pen
runs on so. If you want me, say the word, and
I will be at Orleans and at your service as soon
as a steamer can take me there, as I am now
settling up my business, and making preparations to go to some place.
"Yours ever,   VINT S. NUNEMACHER."
Was not this man persistent in his determination to learn to be an actor? I was equally so
in mine to decline receiving him as a learner.
He might have become a good actor for aught I
know-has, possibly, for I have little doubt he
tried other managers, failing with me, but, if so,
he most likely went on the stage under a feigned
name, as many do. I never heard of him again.
The St. Louis season of 1850 was a very fair
one, considering that the cholera again paid the
city a visit. We had for stars Mr. and Miss
Logan, Mr. Hudson, Mr. Murdoch, Mr. Manvers
and troupe (opera), Mr. C. D. Pitt, Mr. De Bar,
Mrs. Farren, Miss Julia Dean, Charles Burke,
and the Bateman children.
Mr. Charles Burke was too good an actor to
be very successful. Those who have never seen
him (he died young) can see his counterpart in
his half-brother, Joseph Jefferson.
During this season my son and I played the
Two -Dromios, in the COMEDY OF ERRORS, on
the occasion of Mark's benefit, and we had to
repeat the performance several nights.  Our
"make-up" was so exactly alike that, even in the:.  0              0   *,:-   0 0 0.0...
0 0:.: -
0.::0 0:




IMMENSE SUCCESS OF JENNY LIND.


223


greenroom, very few could distinguish one from
the other.
Mr. John Bates, after threatening for many
years, actually commenced the erection of a new
theatre during this summer, which he opened the
ensuing winter. He advertised stock for sale in
this new enterprise, but not a dollar of it was
taken. As a reason for building a new house,
he propagated the report (or somebody didfor
him) that our theatre was in danger of falling!
There was a crack in the building, and had been
for years, but I had had a committee of all the
best builders in the city to make a survey, and
they had published their unanimous opinion that
there was not the least danger. Yet this report
had its effect, and no doubt injured our business
a little. As Mr. Bates took measurements freely at our house (working without a plan, as I
have been told, and personally superintending
the whole work), I watched carefully the prog;
ress of the masonry of the new building up to
the very roof, and, on being asked my opinion
of the strength of the walls, I told Mr. Bates that
the roof wouldfall in whenever there came a
ig fall of snow. It so happened there was not
much snow the winter it was opened, but thefollowing winter-wait, and you'll see.
The New Orleans season of 1850-51 opened
on the 12th of November with a comedy written by Mr. Leaman (one of our actors), entitled
the MILLIONAIRE. Mrs. Farren played twelve
nights, earning $777. Then came Julia Dean
(successful, as usual), followed by Charlotte Cushman, who was this time a comparative failure.
When I say " failure," I mean nothing more nor
less than that the "half houses" failed to give
the management any profit. Miss C. played to
good, but not crowded audiences. J. M. Field
had the Mobile Theatre this season, and my son
Mark was engaged with him. I recollect bringing the latter over to New Orleans to play Sir
Harcourt Courtly and Sir Peter Teazle with
Miss Cushman. This was the inauguration of
Mark's performances in the line of old men, in
which he has since become so popular throughout the United States. One cause of the partial
failure of Miss Cushman in New Orleans was the
expected arrival of the Swedish Nightingale,
Jenny Lind, who was to sing at the St. Charles.
Jenny Lind, with a splendid orchestra, conducted by Benedict, of London, and led by Joseph Burk, commenced her series of concerts on
the 12th of February. The excitement she (or
Barnum) created was unprecedented. Tickets
were disposed of at auction at as high a rate as
$40 and $50 each. The receipts at the first concert could not have been much less than $25,000.


and on no night did they fall short of $10,000,
I believe. There were thirteen concerts given,
and then she and her troupe (taking two of our
best musicians, Waldauer and Kost, with them)
took their departure up the river in the steamer
Magnolia, which, by arrangement made by Barnum, stopped long enough at Natchez, Vicksburg, and Memphis to give a concert in each of
those cities.
The season at New Orleans was continued on
successfully with C. Burke, the Bateman children, and the Celestine troupe of dancers (under
Eytinge), and triumphantly brought to a close
with thirty performances of the Ravel family.
We had to contend this season (in a friendly
way) with a new and beautiful theatre-the "Varieties"-built by stock subscriptions, under the
management of our old comedian and friend, Tom
Placide. The " American" gave us no trouble
at all; and at its close the lease was offered to
us by the proprietors, and (not very wisely, I now
think) we took it, and held it for the two remaining years of our management, renting it out to
magicians, dogs, "goats, and monkeys," and for
political meetings. In this connection I remember being applied to by a committee for a meeting of citizens to receive Kossuth, and of being
thought quite unpatriotic because I offered them
the house on " sharing terms"-that is to say, I
proposed a dollar should be charged for the admission of each citizen, Kossuth to receive half,
and our treasury the other half.
At the earnest request of Mr. Barnum, I preceded the Jenny Lind troupe to St. Louis for
the purpose of arranging for their reception, having full powers to fit up the theatre with extra
seats, to engage a church, or hall, or any building which I should judge to be most eligible for
the concerts. I felt a great delicacy in taking
Jenny Lind and the large audiences she was sure
to draw into our theatre, after the industrious
spreading of the reports that the building was
liable to fall. Bates's new theatre had been
opened, and was in full blast, Miss Cushman
playing. James Bates (son of John, the proprietor) was manager of the new house, and
kindly offered that splendid establishment to me
for the concerts at $500 per night, with the additional stipulation that I should pay Miss Cushman $250 per night for giving up her claim to
the nights-$750 in all!-a pretty good rent, I
thought. I simply declined this offer, and should
have been content to have said nothing about it
publicly; but that did not suit young Mr. Bates,
who undertook to excite indignation against me
for inviting the people into Wyman's Hall (which,
upon consultation with my. friends, I had en



224


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


gaged and was fitting up), when the splendid
new theatre could be had! I thereupon " came
out" in the Republican with a statement of the
exact terms demanded for the use of the new
theatre, and added that if I could get that building free of rent I would not venture to ask the
St. Louis public into it in such crowds as would
attend the concerts, for I did not consider the
building safe! This ended the controversy.
The concerts took place in Wyman's Hall, and
were grandly successful.
I fully expected this, our last season in St.
Louis, would be a sad failure, in view of the opposition of the new theatre; but I was greatly
surprised to find, upon our opening, all seemed
to desert the new house and come to the old
one. Celestine Frank and troupe (with Espinosa), the Bateman children, C. Burke, Collins,
Mrs. Farren, Miss Davenport, Macallister, and
De Bar, all played to paying business, while the
new theatre lingered through a miserable season, playing to a "beggarly account of empty
boxes."
On the 16th of June (I was absent-in New
York-at the time), while playing the drama of
JACK SHEPPARD-a favorite piece of De Bar's,
and always performed during his engagements
-there happened a most terrible accident, by
which an excellent woman was sent into eternity. Mrs. Blanche Shea (nee Kemble) was performing the character of Mrs. Wood, who is killed in one of the scenes. Mr. Harry Chapman
was lying sick at his boarding-house, Mrs. Shea
boarding at the same place. Mrs. S. had promised Mrs. Chapman, who was playing the youthful
house-breaker, that she would go home as soon
as possible and attend on Mr. Chapman until his
wife should come home. When Mrs. Shea was
called for the last scene of the character she was
playing, she said to those in the greenroom, "I
am now going to be killed, and then I shall go
right home to sit up with Harry Chapman."
She proceeded to the place of her entrance, between the second and third wings, and while
standing there a moment waiting for her cue to
go on the stage, a counter-weight fell from above
on her head and killed her instantly.
Mrs. Lamar, a lovely and amiable young woman, new upon the stage, but giving great promise
of excellence in her profession, died of cholera
the same day, and the two women were buried
in Christ Church Cemetery. I have recently
caused the remains of Mrs. Lamar and Mrs.
Shea, together with those of poor Dick Russell,
who died in 1849, to be taken up and interred in
the beautiful Bellefontaine Cemetery. On Mrs.
Shea's head-stone are inscribed these words:


BLANCHE SHEA
(Born KEMBLE),
NIECE OF J. P. KEMBLE AND SARAH SIDDONS,
Instantly killed by the accidental falling of a
weight in the St. Louis Theatre, during the
performance of the pernicious play of
"JACK SHEPPARD," June 16, 1851.
AGED ABOUT 30 YEARs.
This stone erected to her memory by
SOL. SMITH,
1867.
After a fair season (under the circumstances),
the old St. Louis Theatre closed its doors with a
benefit to the ORPHAN'S HOME, the entire receipts going into the treasury of that institution
without any deduction for expenses of any kind.
The closing play was the HONEY MOON, Mr. and
Mrs. J. M. Field playing the Duke and Duchess,
as they had done at its opening fourteen years
previously. Being called before the curtain at
the end of the performance, I addressed the audience as follows:
" MY FRIENDS,-For nearly a quarter of a century I have appeared before your parents and
yourselves as an actor, and during all that time
I have never, in a single instance, incurred the
displeasure of this public, which fact I am not
so vain as to attribute to my deservings, but to
your leniency and kindness. As a manager I
have endeavored to uphold the respectability of
the drama by enlisting in your 'limited service' its most able interpreters. On these boards
you have witnessed the acting of Ellen Tree,
Forrest, Celeste, Macready, Booth, Julia Dean,
the Ravel family, the Viennoise children, and
hosts of others, the very mention of whose
names would take up more time than I intend
to occupy in these farewell remarks. The stock
companies have been generally fully equal to
those of Eastern theatres, I believe, and plays
have been placed upon the stage with the proper
scenery and appointments. It is my belief that
the citizens of St. Louis will hereafter look back
with pleasure on the happy hours they have spent
in this house, and speak with pride of the companies which acted before them.   Yet, ray
friends, mixed with the feelings of satisfaction
which now fill me, as I look back on my managerial course, there comes up-and I can not help
expressing it-a regret that such plays as JAcK
SHEPPARD and A GLANCE AT NEW YORK were
ever permitted to stain these boards. The former I consider a most pernicious stage representation, and calculated to demoralize the rising generation; and I hope that my successors




A FINE ACTOR RUINED BY DRINK.


225


in management here will respect the wish which
I now express, that it may never again be represented on the St. Louis stage. With unfeigned
thanks for your many kindnesses through a long
series of years, I take my leave with my heart
full of desires for your future welfare and happiness."
Mr. J. M. Field, on the closing of the old
establishment, immediately took measures for
building a new theatre by subscription, in which
he was successful. By invitation, the writer of
these memoirs performed the ceremony of laying
the corner-stone of the new edifice, which was
called the "Varieties." The theatre is still in
existence, but its first and best manager has gone
to his rest long ago.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE New Orleans season of 1851-2 commenced November 1 (All Saints' Day) with a
prelude from my pen-no, not from my pen exactly, but from my brain, the actors taking the
words from my mouth at two rehearsals. I
never knew an audience better pleased than they
were with this little piece. It was founded on
the idea of Colman's MANAGER IN DISTRESS,
and all, or nearly all of our actors being strangers in New Orleans, the effect was all the
greater. Mark Smith personated a Frenchman
in the boxes, and made up for the part in such a
way that nobody knew him. Mr. Sloan represented an obstreperous Irishman in the pit so
well that he was summarily expelled from the
house by the police, and it was with some difficulty he was saved from incarceration in the
Calaboose! Mr. Perry (our leading actor) played his part so naturally (in the parquet) that he
was hissed amid loud cries of " Turn him out!"
The comedy of the POOR GENTLEMAN followed, the entertainment concluding with the ROUGH
DIAMOND, in which Mr. and Mrs. Sloan appeared.
George Barrett and daughter Henrietta played a short engagement; then came the ever-welcome Logan and daughter, followed by Celeste
after an absence of fourteen years. Her engagement was a failure, though she played as well as
ever she did. Julia Bennett (Mrs. Barrow), the
Roussett sisters, Mr. Neaffie, and Miss Davenport performed for limited periods. Professor
Anderson gave one performance at the St.
Charles, and attracted a house of $999! The
Heron family, accompanied by the very tall comedian, Sir William Don, played a pretty good
engagement, and the season wound up with a
P


series of forty-six performances by the Ravel
family.
Our leading man, Perry, a talented actor,
turned out to be undependable. "The drink,
Hamlet, the drink!" that was what was the matter. " Seeing a friend off" to Mobile, he staid
on the boat so long that he was carried off himself-being in the bills for the night. Arrived at
Mobile, he telegraphed to know if he might play
for somebody's benefit The answer was, "Yes,
play for whom you like. You play no more
here." And I never saw Perry again. Next
spring strong interest was made by Eliza Logan
in St. Louis to have him reinstated in the St.
Charles. I steadily refused, not believing in his
reported reformation, or rather in its permanency. The dear Eliza offered to enter into bonds
for his good behavior; she had just been playing
with him in Louisville, and would pledge her life
on his future good conduct. Just at the moment
we were discussing this matter-it was in front
of Bates's Theatre in Pine Street-Bates came
down the steps, and, catching the subject of our
conversation, handed me, over Miss Logan's
shoulder, a telegraphic dispatch he had received
from his son in Louisville. I cast my eye over
the dispatch, and then quietly said to the fair
pleader for the absent actor, " So you will pledge
your life for poor Perry's future sobriety?" " Yes,
indeed I will; I am so very sure he will never
get drunk any more." "Very well, Eliza; you
take such an interest in the poor fellow, I am inclined-he is such an excellent actor, and so
worthy a gentleman when he is himself-to take
you as his security and give him another chance;
but first read that." Placing the dispatch in her
hand, I turned to leave, but had not gone far
when I heard her exclaim, "Well, I never will
speak in favor of any body again-never!" and
away she flew up the steps. The dispatch ran
thus: " Had to postpone last night. Perry
drunk as h-ll."
Perry was one of the best light comedians of
modern times, and also a very passable tragedian.
I administered to him, at his own request, a most
solemn temperance pledge; how he kept it the
above paragraph has told.
I spent part of this winter in St. Louis with
my family. Mr. Bates was going on with his
second season in the new theatre. Field's "Varieties" was going up, and it was to be ready for
opening in the spring, when its manager was to
return from Mobile with his company.
While at home, at the earnest request of Captain Sellers and other river men, the report of
another meeting of snags and sawyers was communicated to the press as follows:




226


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


Proceedings of the second Convention
of the Snags and Sawyers, held at the
Grave-yard, in the Mississippi River,
Dec. 31,1851.
Delegates were present from Plum Point, Turkey Island, Dog-tooth Bend, Riddle's Point,
Number Ten, Devil's Island, I-ull's Left Leg,
Elk Island, Number Twenty-one, Devil's Backbone, Ditto's Tea-table, Hanging-dog Island,
Devil's Elbow, Tyawapeta, My Wife's Island,
Shirt-tail Bend, Grand Chain, Goose Island, and
the Grave-yard. Two sets of delegates from
Hat Island claimed seats-one set from the
north and the other from the south side. The
attendance was very large, it being a season of
leisure, in consequence of the river being closed
by ice, and navigation suspended.
The Convention was temporarily organized by
calling to the chair the President of the last Convention, AWFUL HULL-RIPPER, Esq., of the
Devil's Back-bone, and appointing TERRIBLE
KEEL-SCRAPER, of Goose Island, temporary Secretary.
On motion, a committee of three was appointed on credentials, to whom was referred the conflicting claims of the two sets of delegates from
Hat Island.
A committee on organization was chosen, and
intrusted with the duty of nominating officers for
this Convention.
A committee on resolutions, consisting of one
member from each wrecking station, was elected
by ballot, the names of whom are omitted, on account of the great difficulty in obtaining type
with which to spell them, and the positive certainty that if put together they never could adhere in such a singular combination during the
process of going through the press for a large
edition.
On motion, the Convention adjourned for dinner and other refreshments.
EVENING SESSION.
Precisely at 3 o'clock the Convention was
called to order. The Committee on Organization, by their chairman, the Hon. Plank Splitter,
reported the following officers for the Convention:
President-TREE-TOP DECK-SWEEPER, from
Plum Point.
Vice -Presidents - SUDDEN WHEEL-HOUSEHOISTER, from Devil's Island, and SHARP-ROCK
RUDDER-LOOSENER, from the Grand Chain.
Secretary-ROTTEN LOG, Esq., from Shirttail Bend.
The report having been unanimously adopted,


the President was conducted to the chair, and
the Vice-Presidents and Secretaries assumed
their proper positions in the Assembly:
PRESIDENT'S ADDRESS:
Fellow-Snags, Sawyers, Stumps, and other Obstructions,-Since our last Convention, held at
this very spot exactly five years ago, our affairs
have remained pretty much in statu quo. During the continuance in office of the excellent man
who then occupied the presidential chair of this
Union, our rights were safe; Congress might
(and did) pass bills containing appropriations for
"clearing us out," but the VETO was our safeguard and refuge!  Fellow-obstructions, there
is now at the head of this government a man
who, having no regard for our constitutional
rights, has recommended to Congress that appropriations be made for the improvement of
Rivers and Harbors, which means nothing more
nor less than dragging us from our stations, and
despoiling us of our constitutional rights.
This recommendation has been seconded by
the people and the press with alarming unanimity. To resist this unwarrantable interference
with our rights and privileges is the object of
this Convention. At this crisis, it is expected
that every snag and sawyer will do his duty!
The address of the worthy President was received with considerable applause. The Committee on Credentials, by its chairman, COPPER.
BOTTOM PIERCER, Esq., reported that they had
examined the certificates of the claimants from
Hat Island, and, considering the great and essential services rendered since the last Convention by the snags and sawyers of that important
wrecking station, had resolved to recommend
that both sets of delegates be admitted to seats.
The Hon. Chairman went on to state that Hat
Island had become one of the most considerable
" places" on any of the Western rivers for wrecking boats, as would appear by a list of wrecked
boats furnished by the delegates from that locality, which he begged might be read by the secretary. The list was then read, as follows: The
Josephine, the United States Mfail, the Gen. Jesup, the Hamilton, the Maid of Orleans, the Warren, the M1onona, the Cumberland, the Sciota Valley, the Duke of Orleans, the Simon Kenton, the
Billow, the Western, the America, the Pearl, and
the Tennessee Valley, besides two well-laden
barges, names unknown.
The report was received, and the members
from both sides of Hat Island took their seats
amid much cheering.
The report of the Committee on Resolutions
was now called for and read.




ANOTHER MEETING OF RIVER OBSTRUCTIONS.


227


PREAMBLE AND RESOLUTIONS.
" Whereas there appears to be a growing disposition in the inhabitants of the Mississippi
Valley, as appears by newspaper articles, to urge
upon the Western members of Congress a renewal of the attempts heretofore made in that
honorable body to uproot and tear out from our
long-established homes the snags, stumps, and
sawyers so long and happily established in the
bed of the Mississippi River;
"And whereas there is, unhappily at this juncture, no Loco-foco President at the helm of state
to arrest the attempts aforesaid by the interposition of the Roman remedy, the VETO; on the
contrary, believing, as we do, that the present
chief magistrate would be glad of the opportunity to sign a bill authorizing our overthrow and
ruin;
"Resolved, By the snags, sawyers, and other
'obstructions,' in solemn Convention assembled, that we reaffirm our right to remain in our
several localities, undisturbed by meddlers in or
out of Congress, who affect to believe that we
have no right to the homes of our fathers, and
would tear us up, root and branch, without the
least regard to our rights or feelings.
".Resolved, further, That we will resist with
steadfast and determined resistance all attempts
which may be made to tear us up by the roots;
and, if our destruction should be determined on
by the government, we will hold on to our moorings to the. last gasp, and if conquered in the
struggle we will die at our posts.
" Resolved, furthermore, That our warmest
thanks are due, and are hereby tendered to
Western members of Congress generally, for
their evident determination to 'hold back' from
joining the unholy crusade against us, knowing,
as we do, that a united effort of Western members would immediately secure our destruction
and utter extermination.
"Resolved, furthermore yet, That all legal means
be adopted by our fiaternity to prevent the election of Millard Fillmore as President of the United States (the office which he accidentally fills at
present), inasmuch as we are firmly impressed
with the belief that his election would be a
death-blow to the whole boodle of us.
"Resolved, still furthermore, and finally, That in
case of the passage of any act by the present or
any future Congress to expel, drag, draw out,
root up, split to pieces, break off, dig into,
wrench, extricate, eradicate, or otherwise interfere with or materially injure the snags, sawyers,
and other obstructions (so called) in the Mississippi River or any of its tributaries, then the presiding officer of this assembly shall have power,
and he is hereby requested, to call another Convention at some central location to determine
the 'mode and measure of redress.' In the
mean time, we hereby pledge our fortunes and
our sacred honors to stave into all the boats
that come within our reach, and sink them if we
can."
The preamble and resolutions having been
adopted without a division, a venerable snag
from Goose Island moved the following additional resolution, which was unanimously adopted:


"Resolved, That our next Convention be held
on the 31st of December, 1857 (unless previously
called together under, the fifth resolution just
adopted), at the head of Hat Island, where the
wrecks of sixteen vessels can be seen at one view.
"On motion, Resolved, That the thanks of this
Convention be tendered to the snags and sawyers located on both sides of Hat Island for their
meritorious and highly successful efforts in opposition to the boating interests."
The Honorable Plank Splitter, from Hat Island (south), rose to return thanks for the last resolution, and said that it was the determination
of himself and associates to continue on steadfastly in the good work. He concluded a very stirring address by offering the following resolution,
which was adopted with enthusiasm:
"Resolved, That we view with scorn and contempt the conduct of Captain Swon and his pilots, Sellars and Duffy, who in the most dastardly
manner steer clear of us with the 'Aleck Scott,'
and dare not ' let her rip' among us, and that the
snags and sawyers of the young wrecking station, Hat Island, be, and are hereby constituted
a special committee to sink the said' Scott' as
soon as possible."
At this stage of the proceedings (it being nearly dark) the sergeant-at-arms announced that a
very large cake of ice was approaching from the
direction of St. Louis-the same which had the
good fortune to pitch into and destroy the " Jewess"-whereupon a resolution was introduced inviting the " cake" to take a seat in the Convention.
This gave rise to considerable debate, some
members contending that "ice" could not be
properly considered of that class of obstructions
entitled to the proposed honor, it being liable to
melt away in warm weather; while others insisted that the destruction of the " Jewess" within
the very harbor of St. Louis, and within sight of
numerous citizens, was, or ought to be, a convincing proof of what ice could do when put in
motion. A loud "hurrah" from the outsiders
interrupted the debate, and it was subsequently
found that, before the Convention could pass the
complimentary resolution, the subject of it had
passed the Convention, and proceeded down the
river several miles, answering the "hurrah" of
the outsiders by a declaration that, while its hand
was in, it intended to have a crack at several
boats between the Grave-yard and the Mouth.
The usual resolution of thanks to the presiding
officers and secretaries was moved and carried,
after which it was ordered that the proceedings
be furnished to the press for publication. The
Convention then adjourned, and the members
immediately returned to their several constituencies, resuming their stations with a determina



228


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


tion to do their full share in the work of destruction about to be commenced on the breaking up
of the ice.
TREE-TOP DECK-SWEEPER, President.
ROTTEN LOG, Seeretary.
It is not my province to follow my friend Joe
Field through his short career of management in
St. Louis. He opened the "Varieties" with a
very fine company, and with every prospect of
success, while Bates's theatre was comparatively
deserted; but success did not attend his efforts
beyond the first season, I am sorry to say.
Before briefly noticing our last season at the
St. Charles, New Orleans, I will record, with
great pleasure, the fulfillment of my prophecy
that the roof of Bates's theatre in St. Louis
would fall in. It did fall in during the winter
of 1853. There had been a heavy fall of snow
during the evening; the Ravels were performing, and my wife and I had attended, but took
care to get our seats very far back in the dress
circle. The audience had not been out of the
house quite half an hour when the roof came
crashing down into the pit and on the stage!
Why do I record this event "with pleasure?"
you will naturally ask. I will tell you. I knew
the roof must fall sooner or later, and my pleasure is derived from the fact that it did not fall
while the audience were there, and that not a
single human life was lost by the catastrophe.
The Ravels removed to the "Varieties," and
finished their engagement there. The walls of
Bates's house were taken down for a considerable distance, and rebuilt in a proper manner.
CHAPTER IX.
I RETURNED to New Orleans to find my son
the happy husband of an amiable and lovely gentlewoman, with whom he had formed an acquaintance since my departure for St. Louis.
As I am bestowing " all my tediousness" upon
my gentle reader, I make no apology for handing him (or her) to read a letter written in the
familiar style which characterized the correspondence carried on for years between "Old
Logan" and myself.
Sol. Smith to C. A. Logan.
Theatre, St. Charles, April 3,1852.
I am very certain, my valued, venerable, esteemed, and handsome friend, that you must have
missed one of my letters, if not two. Yours of
the 27th ult., full of nothing, but fully and poetically directed, came to hand this day, and I
must also acknowledge the receipt, some weeks


ago, of a paper, also poetically superscribed, and
about two weeks since a tolerably decent letter
(I mean, decently filled) from Philadelphia. I
am not so certain I answered that, but, considering I had written two letters, principally on
one subject-my personal beauty, which had been
most wantonly attacked, through pure envy, I
have no doubt, sorry am I to say it! in which I
attempted-feebly, may be, but attempted —to
set forth those much-slighted personal advantages which the gods have, for some unknown
reason, bestowed upon the writer hereof, and to
repel the assaults made upon them by one who,
however estimable he may be in his feelings and
moral qualities, can not but perceive that Nature
has, not "smiling," but frowning, withheld the
"winning grace" so bountifully bestowed elsewhere. If those letters-particularly that letter
written in my little back parlor in Chouteau
Avenue, while I was contemplating a thermometer the mercury whereof had sunk down to
double G below the stave, and at the same time
burning under the effects of the unjust aspersion
thrown upon my personal appearance by one
from whom I expected better things -have
reached their destination, I shall expect-mind,
I say I shall expect-I purposely emphasize the
word "expect," expecting you will particularly
notice it-an ample-I will not say apology, but
an ample and amplified EXPLANATION!
*    *    *    *    *    *    *
We are doing immensely with the Ravels.
They have played ten nights, including to-night,
and averaged over $820!-in Lent, too. Next
week (Holy Week)'we expect a falling off, of
course, but after that, commencing with Easter
Monday, we expect great business again. They
will stay during the whole of the month-perhaps
longer. This engagement is a wonderful " pull
up" to our season.
You mentioned Celia had been offered an engagement in Philadelphia. If you engage her
at all, and don't engage her to me, I'll-never
mind, I won't threaten. Where will you be in
June?
I take great pride and pleasure in Eliza's success, you know, and I therefore thank you for
the bills and papers, which I take care to have
seen. Thad. is not here with me now, little
Sergeant Prentiss being my companion this time.
I suppose you heard of Mark's marriage. It
took place in January, and I am pleased to say
it is the best "engagement" he ever made. It
seems but yesterday that he was born-here in
this very city, and here he is presenting me a
beautiful and amiable daughter.
Joe Field closed his season in Mobile last




LAST APPEARANCES ON ANY STAGE OF J. B. BOOTH.


229


night. He comes over to-morrow, and goes immediately to St. Louis to prepare for the opening of his new theatre. I want a good leading
actor for next year-no reformed drunkard, but
one who has never been a drunkard.    How
would Lester do? Does he play any leading
parts in tragedy?  "Keep an eye out" for us,
will you? You have a chance to see them all.
We shall probably make a long season next
year. There is to be a Southwestern Agricultural and Mechanical Fair in May.
The theatre in Gravier Street has not been
overly prosperous this season. Max Maretzek
disappointed the management in January. He
was to pay $400 per night for the house, four
nights per week.  That great impressario is
here now with Stefanone, Beneventano, and
some inferior secondaries, and has given one
performance at the Orleans, and advertised another (oh! don't he advertise and bill!), but
Stefanone had "von grand malade," and "Relache" was posted on the doors last night.
Mark and I had complimentary tickets for the
parquette, and, considering the circumstances,
we did not demand our money back, but kept the
tickets for another night. It is said that after
three representations among the French, they
come up to the "Varieties" and give three morc.
We don't care, the Ravels rendering us (just
now) invincible and invulnerable.
Ever your friend, whether you can appreciate
beauty or not,               SOL. SMITH.
The address of this letter was as follows (the
superscription of L.'s last letter having been in
rhyme, and the opinion expressed that I could
not follow his example in consequence of the
difficulty-imnpossibility he called it-of finding
a word to rhyme with his name):
"Beat the drum and sound the slogan!
This letter is for C. A. LO.GAN.
The penny-post this man will meet
About the theatre in Chestnut StreetI mean in Philadelphia City.
If he's not there, why, 'tis a pity;
But if 'tis found that he is gone,
The manager must send it on."
The season of 1852-3 in the St. Charles, 1he
last in which I appeared in the character of
manager, opened on the 6th of November with
Goldsmith's comedy of SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER, and a farce taken bodily out of a musical
comedy entitled THE ENGLISHMAN IN INDIA,
and called SKETCHES IN INDIA.
The first star was Booth, who performed six
nights on his return from California. These
were his last professional appearances on earth!
The characters he personated were: 1. Richard;
2. Sir Giles Overreach; 3. Pescara; 4. Shy

lock; 5. Bertram; 6. (Benefit and last appearance), Sir Edward Mortimer.
At the close of this brief engagement, anxious
to join his wife and children at Baltimore, he
embarked on board a Mississippi river-boat, was
taken sick, and died before arriving at Louisville. Thus passed away a man who had it in
his power, if he had possessed common prudence,
to share equally with the elder Kean the plaudits
of a London audience, and succeed him. Booth
was nobody's enemy but his own.
In 1820, April 13th, Booth played King Lear
three times at Covent Garden Theatre, London.
He afterward was engaged at Drury Lane, where
he was making his way finely, when he took a
notion into his head to go over to the other house,
and play Iago to Kean's Othello, which, I think,
was the greatest error of his life. There was almost a row in consequence. In August of that
year Drury Lane was opened for an extra season "for the express purpose of giving Kean an
opportunity of playing his principal characters
previous to his departure for America." Booth
was announced as being "engaged for a few
nights." They played together in the following pieces: RICHARD III.-Richard, Mr. Kean;
Richmond, Mr. Booth. OTHELLO- Othello, Kean;
lago, Booth. KING LEAR-Lear, Kean; E'dgar,
Booth. That same year, in the fall, he played
in pieces as follows: OTHELLO- Othello, Cooper
(not our Cooper); Iago, Booth. ADELGITHAAMichael Ducas, Booth. PIZARRO - Pizarro,
Booth; Rolla, Wallack. JULIUS CESAR-Brutus, Wallack; Cassius, Booth. JANE SHOREHastings, Cooper; Duke of Gloster, Wallack;
Dumont, Booth. Macready and Wallack seemed
to monopolize most of the good parts that season. Booth came over to America. He returned to London in 1826, and played Brutus,
Othello, and Richard-three nights in all. His
professional career was afterward confined to the
United States, where he married and raised a
family. His home was on a farm near Baltimore.
I was acquainted with Junius Brutus Booth
for about a quarter of a century. When I first
knew him (in 1827) he was a truly great actor,
and continued so to be until he fell into bad company in New Orleans, and took to hard drink.
Then he became undependable, and, "putting
an antic disposition on," made many believe that
he was crazy. I never believed him to be a
crazy man except when he was excited by liquor,
and that was pretty often-nearly all the time,
in fact. I have seen him act Richard many
times as no other man could or can act it. I
have seen not only the pit "rise at him," as it




230


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


did at Kean in D'ury Lane on the occasion of
that great actor's first appearance in London,
but have seen the whole house-pit, boxes, and
gallery-on their feet to do honor to Booth while
playing King Richard. His Sir Giles Overreach
(in the last scene) was terrific! Pescara he acted perfectly. King Lear, barring that he acted
from Tate's adaptation of the play instead of the
text of Shakspeare, was fully up to his Richard.
His Hamlet was not great, ever. In Othello
Mr. Booth was very good, but not great; and in
lago, according to my poor judgment, very bad
indeed, and yet he was always yearning to play
the latter. In. Sylla and Brutus he appeared in
my eyes to magnify himself so as to look almost
a giant in size. He was great in Sir Edward
Mortimer (the last part he ever played), and
cast all others who attempted to play it in this
country into the shade. I have seen Mr. Booth
play Jerry Sneak and John Lump, and I could
scarcely believe it was Booth who was playing
them. After Tom Flynn broke his nose he was
a different man and an indifferent actor. His
face, which had been beautiful and intellectual,
became almost disgusting to see; his voice,
which had been of great power and sweetness,
became harsh and nasal-he was completely
changed. The present generation has not seen
the Booth that I knew. Yet, with all the disadvantages he labored under during the latter
years of his life, he continued (as the man said
at Kean's funeral) to draw to the last.
The other stars of this season were Mr. and
Mrs. Barney Williams, Mrs. Mowatt, Madame
Thillon, Mr. Hudson, and Julia Dean. The
Williamses were very successful, the receipts on
their nights averaging well up toward $600 per
night. Thillon and Hudson drew very well;
Julia Dean excellently, and Mrs. Mowatt tolerably. The Ravel family came and performed
thirty-six nights, winding up the season on the
30th of April in a blaze of triumph.
There was a buzzing fellow hanging about the
theatres this season named Dr. Northall, who
aspired to be a theatrical critic, and who published his lucubrations-puffs for the " Varieties," and abuse for the St. Charles-in the Delta
newspaper. I don't know if 'twere so, but it did
appear to me he must have been a hired puffer
of the "Varieties," for he never by any chance
spoke of that house except in unqualified praise,
while, according to his account, nothing was
ever decently done at the St. Charles. When
the benefits came on, his name was put up at
the "Varieties" for a "complimentary" one, on
which occasion he was advertised to speak a
poem written by himself. When the time came


for him to appear before the very sparse audience which honored him with their presence, he
broke down utterly at the second line, and was
hissed from the stage. He liked New Orleans
so well that he remained there dissipating till he
died.
Among the members of the stock company of
the St. Charles this season was Mr. John S. Potter, better known as
Manager Potter.
No one can tell with what reverence I write
the name of this distinguished individual, a few
of whose doings I propose to relate. MANAGER
POTTER! The Simpsons, the Hamblins, the
Pelbys, the George Woods, even the Dion Boucicaults of the profession sink into utter insignificance when mentioned on the same page with
J. S. Potter. There is not a town on any of the
Western waters, from Fever River in Illinois, to
the Bay of Mobile in Alabama, but has experienced him; not a steam-boat captain, nor a tavern-keeper in any town accessible to theatrical
enterprise, but retains notes of remembrance of
the hero of my sketch. There is not a star or
demi-star inducible to visit any but metropolitan
towns and cities but holds Manager Potter in
"memory locked."
There was, once upon a time, in a Southern
city, an enterprising and honest carpenter, who
took it into his head to become a manager. He
built a theatre, and opened it with a very expensive company, but he soon plainly saw that all
his earnings with the saw and plane were fast
frittering away in salaries and other enormous
expenses which he had never dreamed of while
he remained in a happy state of carpentery. He
came to me for advice. I told him I knew but
of one way by which he could carry on the theatrical business with any chance of profit. It
was this: abolish the salary-list. He thanked
me, and went his way. Three weeks afterward
the new manager came back to me and said he
had tried the plan I had suggested.
" Well, how does it work?" I inquired.
I' It works well enough," he answered, innocently, "but the actor folk-unreasonable fellows!-don't much like it; indeed," he continued,
"they talk as though they won't stand it."
He asked me if I had no other plan to suggest. I dismissed him with the expression of
my belief that unless he could devise some means
by which he could do away with the salary-list,
there was no way by which a person inexperienced in the business of theatrical management
could possibly be assured of success. Finding
the actors unanimous in their stubbornness, and




MANAGER POTTER, THE "INDOMITABLE."


231


determined in their resolution to have their pay
or quit, the new manager shortly afterward gave
up the business in despair, and took to the management of an exceedingly large PIG, with one
head, two tails, and six legs! There being no
salary-list to bother him, he got along very well
with this speculation. This pig exhibition being
opened on St. Charles Street, nearly opposite our
theatre, Mr. Macready and I went in one day to
see the monstrosity. On leaving the booth we
were politely handed back the money we paid for
admission, the manager remarking, "You are on
the free list, gentlemen; we do not charge the
profession."
But to return to Manager Potter, who has
carried out the plan I suggested to this tyro,
with improvements. Many instances of Mr.
Potter's unrivaled tact in overcoming and surmounting pecuniary difficulties have come under
my notice, a few of which I proceed to relate.
He purchased of Mrs. A. Drake, when she
abandoned management in Louisville, her extensive wardrobe, valued at $3000, the purchasemoney to be paid at Jackson, Miss. As an inducement for her to give him the desired credit
until the arrival of his company at the capital of
Mississippi, he offered Mrs. D. a splendid engagement in that city, which she accepted, and
off went the whole concern-actors, musicians,
hoxes, and the star to Vicksburg. Arrived at
this point, a settlement at the captain's office became necessary for passage and freight to the
amount of some hundreds of dollars. Potter actually persuaded Mrs. Drake to become responsible for the whole bill, and she eventually was
obliged to pay it, as she informed me, besides
losing the whole of her magnificent wardrobe,
which she never set eyes on more!
Once upon a time a lawyer named Yeager
loaned Manager Potter $50, under a solemn
promise that the amount should be returned out
of the first night's receipts of the season then
just commencing in Jackson. The time passed
on until nearly the end of the legislative session
and theatrical season, and no sign of the $50
appeared to be forthcoming, though the debtor
had been " often requested" to refund. In the
mean time, reports of Potter's facility in "putting


creditor entered, and the door closed upon the
debtor and creditor. At first loud words were
heard, but gradually the voices of the dun and
the dunned sunk into a low tone of friendly converse. In about twenty minutes longer Y. sallied forth and encountered his friends, who were
in waiting, and who showered questions upon
him without ceasing until they all arrived at Y. 's
lodgings.
" Here, Dick!" exclaimed the discomfited
lawyer to the waiter, " bring a basket of Champagne; I've lost."
"Oh, then," asked the friends, "you didn't
get your fifty dollars?"
" Get my fifty dollars?" answered the loser of
the wager-" get my fifty? I should like to see
the man that could get fifty out of him! Curse
the fellow. I went in there determined to have
my money or take it out of his hide; and before
I left-I am almost ashamed to own it-hang
me if he didn't borrow another fifty of me!"
In 1844 Manager Potter came to St. Louis
with a company on his way to Chicago. The
captain of the boat which brought him from
Memphis swore the baggage should not be taken
away until the passages and freight-bills were
paid. This was in the forenoon, and before night
Potter had the whole company and property
shipped on board a Galena boat, the captain
who brought him to St. Louis receiving his notes
for his debt, and indorsing notes for him to pay
not only the passages of his company to Galena,
but across the country to Chicago!
It ought to be mentioned that P. has a weakness in a nerve of one of his eyes, from which a
tear is always involuntarily starting. It is supposed that in this weakness consists Manager
Potter's strength, no person having yet been
found who could resist it.
How Manager Potter moves from place to
place nobody knows; but he does move, and he
travels incredibly long journeys in incredibly
short periods of time. The great Napoleon, in
his day, moved his armies from one place to another with some speed-but he had means; Potter moves his army from one extremity of this
vast Union to the other without any means whatever!


off" duns reached Lawyer Y.'s ears, and, " in a  Manager Potter deserves success, if any manmerry mood," he laid a wager with some friends ager ever deserved it. His industry is sleepless,
that he would visit the manager in his box-office, his enterprise untiring. He engages to give any
and would not depart without his money. To prite to stars and stock actors, pays them if he
secure himself against a possibility of failure, the can, and if he can not he does not make himself
attorney armed himself with a cowhide and a unhappy about it. I have never heard the compair of pistols, and entered the sanctum. The plaint made by any of his numerous professional
friends of Y. had stationed themselves near the creditors that he ever was known to have any
premises, and within hearing. The inexorable cash on hand. For a manager, in hard times,




232


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


to make use of any money for his own purposes
is a sin that no actor can forgive. Potter has
always kept his skirts clear of any such offense,
and it is well for him that he has. Hence comes
it that, although he owes every body, every body
likes him: he would pay if he could, poor fellow!
but if he can't, what is a poor fellow to do?
Manager Potter has built and " fitted up" more
theatres than any other manager, dead or alive,
and traveled a greater number of miles with large
companies than any other manager ever thought
of traveling. He has played more parts in one
play than any other three men that can be mentioned, doubling, trebling, and quadrupling characters to an enormous extent (with the aid of a
black cloak and a yellow domino), in tragedies,
comedies, and farces innumerable. He assured
me once that he took a company of eighteen persons from Detroit in Michigan, to Richmond in
Virginia, with but seventy-five cents in his pocket to start with! He has established theatres
throughout California and Oregon, Nevada,
Utah, and in the Cherokee nation. To China
he intends to go with a company as soon as that
empire is opened to outside barbarians. At
present I hear he is making up a company and
arranging with Mr.Vanderbilt for their passages
around Cape Horn and up to Walrussa! Success to MANAGER POTTER!
CHAPTER X. AND LAST.
BEFORE concluding this sketchy history of my
management in the South and West, I feel it to
be my bounden duty to say a few words on
Sunday-night Performances.
When I went to New Orleans as an actor
(1827), Sunday-night performances certainly did
-at first-appear strange to me, and perhaps
slightly out of order; but, upon a careful view
of the matter in all its bearings, my mind became convinced that keeping the theatres open
on every night-with this especial observance,
that they are under the management of conscientious, well-meaning directors-must be beneficial
to any community. Observation and experience, during a period of nearly thirty years, so
far from changing my opinion on this subject,
have confirmed it; and I now look back upon
no part of my managerial course with afore
heartfelt approval than the continuation of the
policy adopted and practiced by Mr. Caldwell, of
affording the American citizens of New Orleans
an opportunity of enjoying the beneficial influences of the Drama on Sundays as well as on


other nights of the week, thus placing the American theatres on an even footing with the French
Theatre in the same city.
In 1831 attempts were made by a portion of
the people to "put down" Sunday performances
in the American Theatre. One editor was peculiarly urgent in the matter, and went so far as
to advise the " authorities" to interfere and put
a stop to the "unholy practice" of allowing the
citizens to be amused on the night of the Christian Sabbath. Mr. Caldwell addressed the following communication to the editor referred to,
which had the effect to silence that battery, and
no more was heard in opposition to the Sundaynight performances for several years:
"MR. EDITOR,-You have disseminated so
many opinions of your own, and published so
many of other people's upon the subject of
opening the Theatre on Sunday, a practice common on the whole Continent of Europe, in Catholic as well as Protestant countries, whether in
English, French, German, Russe, Prusse, Dutch,
or Italian-moreover, my name has been so cavalierly used by you and your incognito correspondents, that I claim the privilege of a short
space in your columns to say a few words for
myself, which words shall smack more of piety
than any of the articles which have appeared
(which I view as so many anathemas) can boast
of.
" I thank heaven I was born in a free country.
"I thank heaven that I am a citizen of the
United States.
" I thank heaven that the Constitution of the
United States grants to me the liberty of thinking, writing, printing, and acting for myself, as
every man ought, though his thinking, writing,
printing, and acting should differ from all other
men's thinking, writing, printing, and acting.
'"I thank heaven that the majority can rule
the minority, as it ought.
"I thank heaven that the majority is not
against me, as it might.
" I thank heaven that the minority is not the
majority, for fear it would proscribe and ruin
me, as it would.
"I am happy in the knowledge that the majority of the people of New Orleans think that,
instead of an evil, it is a moral good to open the
Theatre on Sunday evenings.
" To conclude: I thank heaven that those who
think differently from the majority have the
right to act as independently as the subscriber
to this article, by expressing their opinions.
May they live long to express them, and long live
the republic to protect them.
"JAMES H. CALDWELL."
During my management of theatres in New
Orleans, Sunday-night performances were continued, and, as I think, much to the benefit,
morally and physically, of the inhabitants of that
great city and the strangers congregated therein.
until all opposition ceased, except from a few re —
ligionists by trade, and some keepers of beer



SUNDAY-NIGHT PERFORMANCES IN NEW ORLEANS.


233


houses, coffee-houses, billiard-houses, nine-pin alleys, and other establishments not fit to be mentioned here.
It is not to be denied that in latter years the
American theatres were not "fashionably" attended on Sundays; but what of that? The
hardy mechanic, with his wife and children, the
boatman, the visiting stranger, the apprentice,
the clerk-these and others flocked to the theatre to enjoy an innocent recreation, instead of (as
in other cities) passing the evening at the resorts mentioned and indicated in the last paragraph.
An honest Irish woman came to the St. Charles
one Saturday evening to secure seats for her husband and herself, with " the childer," for the following night. Seeing me writing at a desk in
the box-office, she asked the clerk to call me for
a moment. She wished to speak to me.
"Oh, sir, Mr. Sol," said she, when I came to
the counter, "I want to thank you, sir, for the
good you have done to my husband, my dear
Pathrick. He has often wished to thank you
himself."
"Madam," I replied, "I do not remember of
having performed any particular service for your
husband."
"Ah! sir," said she, "you have, and many
services. In Pittsburg, where we lived till we
came here, Pathrick was always at the drinkinghouses on Sunday nights, where he spent half
the wages he earned during the week, leaving the
childer and meself at home worrying and fretting on account of him; and then he was not
fit to work on Monday, which he lost entirely,
besides getting worser and worser in the drinking
way, you understand. Now, sir, blessings upon
you and the other managers, we spend our Sunday nights seeing good plays, and Pathrick is always with us except when away at his work, and
he is a changed man entirely. And it is so with
many others I know. God bless you, Mr. Sol,
and prosper your great institootion." With a
hearty shake of the hand, the good woman left
me, and next night, happening to be standing
near the box door as the audience was assembling, I found myself suddenly surrounded by
Mr. and Mrs. Pathrick and several little Pathricks, who all became intimately acquainted with
me through the introduction of the grateful woman, who attributed the reformation of her husband to the good influences of the Drama. As
for Pathrick, he became a prosperous man, and
engaged in large contracts with the city government. Whenever he met me he never failed to
acknowledge his obligation to the "institootion,"
insisting that the Church and Theatre are both


good in their way. " The Church in the mornning-the Drayma at night, is my maxam, Mister Sol, and I'll stick to it!" said honest Pat the
last time I met him.
In a pecuniary point of view, I must say that,
were it not for the Sunday-night performances,
I never could have pushed through the great difficulties which beset my path during the seven
unlucky years of my management, from 1838 to
1845.
In justice to myself, I will add that, so far as
my influence would go, pieces were always selected for Sunday nights which were unquestionably moral in their tendencies. This assertion
may cause a smile upon the faces of some clergymen who consider the pulpit the only teacher
of morality, while other clergymen will agree
with me that the stage may be so conducted as
to encourage Virtue and condemn Vice.
Lending Money in small Sums.
"I have never yet seen the man that I would
not render some assistance to, if in my power.
It seems to me no more than a duty; there is
no merit in it."
The above thirty-four words have cost me hun
dreds, if not thousands of dollars! They occur
in a little book entitled " Theatrical Apprenticeship," page 81, published in 1845. I hereby revoke them, and wish the reading world to understand that there is not one word of truth in
the whole sentence-not one; on the contrary, I
won't render assistance to any body! It is not
" in my power." I am a hard-hearted-outrageously hard-hearted wretch, and I wish it to be
so particularly understood from this out.
The reader could scarcely believe what I could
with perfect truth relate on this subject.
"I haye read your book, Mr. Smith," says
the modest applicant; " and as you have been in
difficulties in your early days, and as you have
published the fact that you never have seen the
man you wouldn't render assistance to, I have
come to solicit a small loan;" and he then goes
on to explain his situation, which is very bad, to
be sure, generally requiring five, ten, twentyfive, or thirty-five dollars to set him on his legs!
When I am in New Orleans, the applicant is
from St. Louis, Cincinnati, Belleville, Alton, or
somewhere up the river, and wants to get home
very badly. If I am in New York, the applicant
is generally an actor, and the theatre where he
is engaged is to open almost immediately, and he
will be sure to pay me out of his first week's salary; his board-bill is due, and he will be turned
out of his lodgings if he don't pay up. In St.




234


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


Louis (my home), he is traveling, and his money
has given out; he has been sick; his father knew
me in Georgia, or Alabama, or Kentucky-had
seen me act many a time (his father had); he
therefore is emboldened to come to me-has read
my book, of course! In London or Paris, it is
a fellow-countryman who claims my assistance;
only wants money enough to pay his passage
home-a second-cabin passage. Once in a while
a sentimental female sends a letter through the
post-office; knows my generous nature; has read
my book (confound that book!), and wants only
twenty-three dollars, which she knows I will willingly and cheerfully bestow upon one who has
seen better days, and so forth, and so on.
If these people would ever pay, or ever think
of paying-but they never do. Stop! Let me
not be quite so sweeping. A man to whom I
once loaned five dollars on board of a steamboat did pay it back five years afterward. His
name is hereby immortalized-it is Kidd. Henry
Ward Beecher says the only one who ever paid
back any thing of the many thousands he had
loaned in small sums was a negro! The man
who paid nme was an actor!
Now remember, reader, what I said at the beginning of this article-I am a changed man. I
make no more loans to distressed wanderers
wanting to go home. I pay no more boardingbills of actors whose engagements haven't begun.
No, sir! I'm flint-adamant!!   and, moreover, I've bought out the copyright of the book
containing the above-quoted paragraph, so that
no more copies of it can possibly be published.
I promised, many pages back, to give the result of my second purchase (of 4-%& acres) in the
city commons of St. Louis. According to the
promise of my good genius in that cold winter
(1815), times did change somewhat for the better, and in May of that year I made the last payment on that land, receiving from the city a full
title. In 1866 I sold nine of the thirty lots into
which the tract had been subdivided for $27,500,
and this spring (1868) I have sold the remaining
twenty-one lots for $50,000, making seventyseven thousand five hundred dollars for what cost
me originally five hundred and eighty-seven dollars andjifty cents!
Another land operation I must mention. In
1837 I purchased from Col. John O'Fallon 75
feet of ground on the east side of Third Street,
adjoining the theatre, at $110 per front foot.
The cash payment and some of the " time" payments had been made, but in the dark days of
1840, '41, and '42, finding it impossible to meet
farther payments, I requested the good colonel


to sell a portion of the land under the deed of
trust he held, and pay himself the balance I owed
him. He was reluctant to do so, but finally consented at my urgent request, and twenty-two feet
of the ground were sold to the city, at $100 per
foot, for an engine-house. Mr. Samuel Jacks
purchased twenty feet more at $91 per foot,
leaving me thirty-three feet out of my seventyfive, on which I afterward built two small houses,
in one of which my family resided for several
years, and until we removed into our present
residence on Chouteau Avenue in 1848. When
the cloud of debt cleared away from the atmosphere in which I walked, I purchased from Mr.
Jacks the twenty feet of ground he had bought
at the trust sale, paying him $400 per front foot
for the same, thus becoming possessed of fiftythree feet of the seventy-five feet of ground I had
originally purchased from Col. O'Fallon. This
land I afterward sold to Messrs. Mitchell, Rammellsberg & Co., for $50,000.
While writing of land, I will say that I made
about $10,000 on some land I purchased in Columbus (Ga.) in 1833; and on some lots I purchased in Paducah (Ky.) in 1836, I eventually
realized about $8000 profit, after keeping them
nearly thirty years.  My Illinois lands I have
told you about.
I am about through. As a manager of theatres, I don't consider that I have been very successful, pecuniarily speaking. It is true that at
times I made many thousands of dollars in a single year; but then at other times-these other
times extending through several successive years
(as in 1838 to 1845), all I had made, and more,
was swallowed up in losses. If I had quit the
business in 1838, when the old St. Emanuel was
destroyed by fire, I could have paid all my debts
-they were inconsiderable then-and have had
something handsome left, say twenty thousand
dollars in money and lands, and saved fifteen
years of the hard toil I have since gone through.
If the burning of the theatre had occurred before
I sold out my printing-office, I should probably
have resigned the reins of management and taken
up the editorial pen; but the conflagration happened a few days after my sale of the newspaper,
and I was doomed to slavery for many years, for
my business then began to sink me into debt,
which I did not get entirely out of until 1848,
and to be in debt is to be in slavery, as every
body knows who has tried it. So I struggled on
-on-on, year after year, all the time dreading
that I should die-IN DEBT, and leave my family
unprovided for (and oh! what a thought is that!),
until at last, under the blessings of a kind Providence, I achieved my liberty!




THE CURTAIN FALLS.


235


READER. Well, Sol, I have accompanied you
through your managerial pilgrimage, which, I
must confess (some parts of it, at least), was rather tedious, though relieved somewhat by your anecdotes as we went along. I now ask you, as we
are about to part company, How did you come
out in the long run?
My reader, I will tell you. I started in the
business of management in 1823, about even
with the world. I came out of it in 1853, free
from debt, my family having been maintained
during the time and my children educated, possessing a good house to live in (cost $7000),
some money (not much, and what there was I
have since lost by lending it without security),
and some lands, which have increased in value
greatly, and been sold for such prices (as heretofore stated) that I am now considered a man in
comfortable circumstances. So I say, "ALL'S
WELL THAT ENDS WELL."
Now, as you have been so kind as to keep company with me so long, let me tell you, before we
part, that I am blessed with a good but plain home,
ditto wife, and am probably about as happy as
most of my neighbors. I am the father of seven
living sons (Lemuel Edwin, for many years a
printer; Marcus, actor; Sol. Jr., actor; Franklin, insurance clerk; Thaddeus Sanford, civil
engineer; Sergeant Prentiss, bank clerk; and
Asa Wilgus, bank teller), four of whom are married to excellent wives; and I have seven living
grandchildren, four boys and three girls. My
reader, I give you these particulars of my doinestic relations on the supposition that you


have become somewhat interested in me and
mine by this time, and will be glad to know of
our welfare.
In my retirement, happy in the reflection that
I never willfully wronged my fellow - actors -
meaning all human beings; for hath not our
Shakspeare said that all men and women are
players?-and that, so far as was in my power,
I alwavs aimed to elevate the stage in the estimation of the public, by presenting the legitimate
drama, interpreted by the best living masters,
though compelled by the vitiated taste of that
public, engendered elsewhere, to descend a little
sometimes from the high standard I had set up
for myself, I do not look back upon my managerial career with any feelings of regret, but with a
reasonable amount of satisfaction; and when reclining on a garden bench under my vines and
cherry-trees, with book in hand, I often think
over, if I do not speak aloud, the following exquisitely beautiful lines of the great bard:
"SWEET ARE THE USES OF ADVERSITY;
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;
And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running
brooks,
Sermons in stones, and GOOD IN EVERY THING."
Thanking you, madam (or sir), for accompanying me through the varied scenes of my checkered professional life, and hoping that you have
been amused (for to amuse has been my only
aim in writing these memoirs), I now ring down
the curtain on my
THEATRICAL MA1NAGEMENT.




'A




EPILOGUE.
1853-1868.


SINCE the close of my management in 1853, I
have acted on the stage twelve times: (1.) One
night at the St. Charles, New Orleans, for which
I received two hundred dollars. (2, 3, 4, 5, 6,
and 7.) An engagement at Mobile, for which I
received about five hundred dollars (sharing
terms). (8.) One night for my son Mark's benefit at the Varieties in New Orleans, my first
and only appearance there, and to one of the
most crowded audiences I ever appeared before.
(9.) One night for the farewell benefit of my
valued and lamented friend, J. M. Field, in the
Varieties, St. Louis. (10.) One night for my no
less valued friend, Mrs. J. M. Field (then a widow), a year afterward, in the same theatre.
(11.) One night for the benefit of my son Sol.
Smith, Jun., in the St. Louis Theatre, in 1860;
and (12.) One night for charity, in connection
with Mrs. Farren, in the same house. I gave a
" reading" of the Grave-diggers' scene in HAMLET on the occasion of the celebration in St.
Louis commemorative of the tercentenary anniversary of the birth of Shakspeare, gotten up in
aid of the Fund for the Relief of Disabled Soldiers; and at the urgent, flattering, and persistent request of a committee of most amiable gentlewomen (neighbors of mine) I gave an additional reading for the same cause in the Mercantile Library Hall, consisting of scenes from HAMLET, Jaques's speech beginning "All the world's
a stage," from As YOU LIKE IT,Dogberry's scenes
in MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, and (spare my
blushes!) several sketches from my own pen. On
the invitation of a number of the best citizens of
Jacksonville, Ill., I gave two readings from Shakspeare and my own writings, for the benefit of
the worthy widow of a worthy clergyman then
recently deceased.
In 1861 I was elected, receiving 15,004 votes,
a member of the sovereign State Convention of
Missouri, which was called by the Legislature
with the expectation that it would take the state
immediately and bodily out of the Union, but it
didn't do any thing of the kind-"' quite the reverse." Awful threatenings were made against,
and horrible deaths promised us if we didn't


carry out the will of the people and pass a secession ordinance! But we didn't see it (the people's will) in that light. We had the sovereign
power of the state in our hands, and we exercised it by dissolving the Legislature, deposing
the governor and executive officers, and erecting
a provisional government for the state. This
unmaking and making governments (except on
the stage) was a new line of business for me, but
I went through my part regardless of the dire
threats, communicated to me through anonymous
letters, that my life would certainly be taken if I
did thus and so. But I did thus and so nevertheless, and here I am alive yet!
In 1855 or 1856 I was offered an engagement
by the late Mr. Burton to play a week in his theatre in Broadway, New York, on excellent terms.
I declined. In 1861 I was offered $10,000 and
all my expenses paid to play Mawworm and five
other characters which I might select throughout the United States for one year. This offer
was made by a gentleman who never saw me act
but once, and it was very tempting, I confess, but
I declined that. I have declined all invitations
to appear upon the stage again.
With the exceptions above noted, I have been
a RETIRED ACTOR for fifteen years, during which
years many changes have taken place in theatrical affairs. The number of buildings for dramatic purposes in the United States has increased at
an astonishing rate, and of course actors and
actresses are abundant in proportion, such as
they are, and some of them are very good ones.
In latter years the legitimate drama seems to
have been nearly crushed out by what may be
termed BLACK CROOKERY and WHITE FAWNERY, consisting of red and blue fires, a fine collection of French legs, calcium lights, and grand
transformation scenes. Negro minstrelsy itself,
a modulated form of the drama, has had a hard
struggle to maintain its ground, and has only
done so by burlesquing the burlesques of the
theatres. Theatres did I say? Where are the
theatres? They seem to have nearly all vanished, and in their places we have "Academies
of Music," "Olympics," "Varieties," "Gaic



238


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


ties," "Athenaeums," and "Opera Houses."
The name of theatre-plain theatre-has been
discarded by managers, except in a very few instances. Such an organization as a regular company, engaged for a full year, is now scarcely
known in New York City, which is claimed to be
the theatrical head-quarters of this country. At
Wallack's there is a regular company for from
seven to eight months in the year. With this
single exception, how are matters managed in
the way of engaging companies? About thus,
so far as I can learn: Actors and actresses are
engaged by the job, or during the run of a piece.
Mr. D., or Mr. G., or Mr. F. translates a French
play, or writes a sensation drama, made up of
escapes from trains of cars, burning steam-boats
or sinking ships, negro jigs and banjo-playing
-walks down or up to the Metropolitan Hotel,
which is called the Rialto by actors, selects from
the crowd, which is always there assembled at
certain hours in the day, such performers as will
best suit the characters of his piece, and engages
them during its ",run;" runs his piece until it
will run no longer, and then the actors may run
where they please, and procure other engagements-if they can. Two of our best tragedians
are obliged to make up strolling companies, and
roam through the rural districts, in hopes of finding some lovers of the good old drama in villages which have not yet had the love of Shakspeare fumigated out of them by red fires and
blue blazes. Occasionally we see a company organized " for one night only" to play in Brooklyn, Newark, Patterson, or Williamsburgh!
The OPERA has no permanent home in New
York, but, broken into fragments, scatters itself
into the interior towns and cities, where, with
scant orchestra and a chorus of eight or ten
cracked voices, IL TROVATORE, IL BARBIERE
DE SEVIGLIA, and all the other Ils of the Italian
repertoire, are given to the worthy citizens of
Peoria and Detroit at a dollar admission, children half price, and no charge extra for securing seats; while the Academy of Music in Fourteenth Street stands with its doors closed, except when opened occasionally for a single night
by some meritorious individual, who hires it for
the purpose of giving himself a complimentary
benefit.
Is this state of theatrical affairs to continue?
Perhaps not-long. I fancy I see a gleam of
hope-two gleams-three, in fact, that a change
for the better is at hand. (1.) A young actor is
building a fine house in New York, equal to any
existing theatre in any part of the world, and
that theatre is to be dedicated to the legitimate
drama. (2.) Large audiences are drawn togeth

er by another young actor (a member of my
company when a boy) to see natural actingacting which reminds old playgoers of his grandfather and namesake at the old Chestnut Street
Theatre in Philadelphia, when surrounded by the
Woods, the Warrens, the Francises, and the
Blissetts, and leads them (the old playgoers) to
think of and tell their sons and daughters of the
happy times they enjoyed at the old Park Theatre in New York, when the Simpsons, Clarkes,
Barrys, Masons, Fishers, Hilsons, and Placides
acted. (3.) The Western managers with whom
I have conversed on the subject are anxiously
waiting for the change. They have been obliged
to follow the metropolitan managers in the tomfooleries of the time, but they are now sick of
Crooks and Fawns-they have had enough of
them, and so (it is hoped) have the Western
publics.
Let us allprayfor this change; and, above all, let
us pray that such pernicious plays as JACK SHEPPARD, the performance of which ruins more young
men and boys than can be counted, may be banished forever from the stage-if not by the managers, then by the interference of the authorities.
An esteemed friend in Philadelphia writes me
to-day thus: "I consider JACK SHEPPARD, and
other sensation plays of its kind now in vogue,
as being the chief cause of the deterioration of
the moral drama and increase of crime among a
certain class. The theatre and its associations
are now looked upon as being the school and
play-ground of vice, simply from the fact that
the character of the plays produced is calculated to corrupt rather than improve the morals of our youth. During the first month subsequent to the production of JACK SHEPPARD, a
magistrate informed me that he committed over
twenty young Jack Sheppards to prison, or had
them sent to the House of Refuge." And yet
managers will continue to perform the piece!
Since my retirement I have been frequently
asked my opinion of theatrical people as a class,
and I have not been backward in giving it. So
far as I can, in a few words, I here repeat in substance what I have said, and what I really think
of the members of the theatrical profession (as a
class), my opinion being the result of an association with them for fifty years. In the first place,
then, there are unquestionably some very mean
and despicable men and women-more men than
women-who contrive to creep into the profession and disgrace it; but these are rare exceptions. I have intimately known and associated
with statesmen, lawyers, doctors, merchants, and
preachers-also mechanics and laboring men; ][
have been honored with the acquaintance and




ADVICE TO ACTORS AND ACTRESSES.


2309


friendship of gentlewomen, the best in the land;
I have been thrown into temporary association
with all sorts of men and women, I may say,
and, so far as my observation has gone, I most
conscientiously declare that the members of the
theatrical profession will compare favorably, as a
class, with those of any other profession. (Don't
shake your head, reverend sir; this is the truth
which I write.) I suppose I have had dealings
with at least a thousand actors and actresses in
my time, and of all that number I can not call
to mind more than a score of black sheep out of
the whole flock-that is, that were depraved in
their natures. On the contrary, I have found
in the most of them the Christian virtues-not
professed, perhaps, but carried into act. There
is not a more charitable class of individuals on
the earth than theatrical performers.  Their
means are generally small, but their hearts are
large. Giving is not of their most charitable
acts, for they have precious little to spare in that
way; yet I believe they contribute in money as
much as any other of the classes I have mentioned, according to their ability. Personal service to the sick and disabled are very seldom withheld by any. It would, perhaps, surprise some
readers to know how many actors and actresses
are members of the Church-not that I consider
them any better for that, or think professing religion always makes one religious.
The persecution the stage and its professors
have been subjected to from certain ministers of
the Gospel, so called-those "I am better than
thou" teachers of God's law, who delight in
crushing and belittling all professions but that to
which they belong - must be stopped, or the
stage will be justified in turning the tables upon
its persecutors. On suitable occasions I have
spoken through the press to the gentlemen with
black coats and white neckerchiefs who have assailed us, and in this book I reproduce some of
the letters I have written. (If you have skipped
them, madam, I would like very much to have
you now turn back and read them.) In latter
years I perceive the stage has found an able defender, or defendress, if you will, in Chicago,
away up on the lakes. Let every actor-yea,
and every actress-who can wield a pen-and
there are very few of either who can not-turn
upon their assailants as that gentlewoman has
done, and the bigots will soon cease their railing
against the STAGE, which ought to be, and is
(with all faults of both considered), of equal
standing with the PULPIT as a teacher of moralitv.
But, after all, the good conduct of actors and
actresses is their best defense. Let them not


only be good and virtuous, but appear so in the
eyes of the world, for there are no people so
watched as they are. Let married women be
announced by their right names, and let them
abandon at once and forever the foolish desire
to be called Misses-clinging to their maiden
names even after becoming mothers of several
children, as if they supposed it to be disgraceful to be wives. I know of no custom so ridiculous, so foolish, and so inexcusable as this I refer to. Let me beg the few American actresses
who follow this despicable custom to consider,
only for a moment, the equivocal position they
are content to occupy while living with men, and
not bearing their names. " Oh! shame, where
is thy blush?"
For the Men of the profession I have a few
words. To each actor I say, Be provident. Lay
up something for a rainy day and for old age.
(Look at your happy brothers and sisters at Long
Branch!) Shun the bottle, your worst enemynot yours only, but the enemy and cause of ruin
of many of the wisest and best of all professions.
Avoid getting into debt, and thus avoid being a
slave. "Be good, and fear not." Respect yourself, and study to deserve the respect of all good
men and women. Respect true religion, and
strive to be religious, whether you become a professor of religion or not. "Do unto others"you know the rule; ACT on it.
I believe I have done forever with theatrical
management in this world. How it may be in
the world we are all hastening to I know not. I
have sometimes had rather hard work here, that's
certain; for " working out of debt" is about the
hardest work I know of; but, taking the " good
and ill together" of my "web of life," which our
Shakspeare says is " of a mingled yarn," I have
abundant cause to be thankful for the many
blessings which have been bestowed upon me
during my prolonged existence.
Swedenborg tells us that in the spiritual world
there are theatres, beautiful and well-managed
establishments, devoted (as they should be here)
to amusement and INSTRUCTION. It is very
likely that, if permitted, I may be concerned in
the management of one of them. From my long
experience in the business, and my extensive acquaintance with artists-those who have already
"shuffled off this mortal coil," as well as those
who, not having yet been "called," are still
playing their parts on this stage of life; and
having always dealt fairly by and with them-I
am not without hope that, if I do go into management up there, I shall be able to surround
myself with a first-rate COMPANY and an ORCHESTRA of surpassing excellence.




t




APPENDIX.


Q




I




APPENDIX.


Murder of an Actor.
OFTEN-very often-I have attempted to write
of my brother's murder in Georgia, but could
not. Thirty-six years have elapsed since that
terrible event, and yet, whenever I put pen to
paper with the intention of recording the circumstances attending it, my hand trembles, my
eyes become dim, my throat swells as if I were
choking, and I push aside the writing materials,
and try to think of something else. About
eleven years ago I took a seat in the cars at
Montgomery, Alabama, with a determination to
visit my murdered brother's grave at Milledgeville; but, in the middle of the night, as the
train was passing through the old "Indian nation," a chill came over me, warning me to return-and I did. I couldn't go on. Returning
by the morning train, I determined in my own
mind I would write a brief history of that horrible scene in Georgia in 1832, which is always
present in my thoughts, and at the same time
give some account of the circumstances which
preceded and succeeded it. In carrying out this
determination, I can only say that what I write
shall be strictly the truth, without the least embellishment or coloring for effect. The reality
is shocking enough-no need of adding one syllable to the sad narration.
My brother Lemuel (the youngest of eleven
of us) was twenty-seven years of age at the time
he was cut off from the land of the living. He
is still remembered by many Georgians as an
actor of great promise. Possessed of a good
person, handsome and intelligent face and graceful bearing, he was very popular wherever he appeared upon the stage; and being of a genial disposition and pleasant manners, his society was
much sought after in private life.
How and where my brother became acquainted with William Flournoy, his slayer, I have
never learned. They were together at a drinking saloon at the capital of Georgia on the night
of the 12th of November, 1832, and words passed between them on some trifling subject. My
brother was warned by a friend, a member of the
Georgia Legislature, that Flournoy was a dan

gerous man-that he was armed, and would use
his arms-and he was advised to avoid him; but
avoiding danger was, unfortunately, what my
brother never thought of doing; so he remarked
to his friend that if Flournoy wanted any thing
of him he might come on-he was ready for
him, at the same time pointing to the handle of
a pistol (loaded with powder only, as it afterward appeared) which he happened to have in
his coat pocket. This remark, it seems, was
communicated to Flournoy, and eventually saved
his neck from the halter. At the time, and until the trial of the murderer two years afterward,
I knew nothing of these particulars. The following I knew: Flournoy came up to him, apparently in a friendly manner, and said, "Come,
let us settle this matter," at the same time making a movement toward the bar. My brother,
supposing the little difficulty they had had was
to be amicably settled, acquiesced, saying, "Very
well-with all my heart." "What will. you
drink?" asked Flournoy. "A glass of porter,"
replied my brother.  "I take brandy," said
Flournoy, and they both were served. As they
replaced their glasses on the counter after drinking, Flournoy coolly remarked, "This is the
d-d rascal who insulted me at Etonton;" then
drawing a pistol from his bosom, he cried in a
loud voice, "Clear the way, gentlemen!" Two
reports, so nearly together that it has never been
known which was first, were now heard, and my
poor brother fell, shot through the body and
mortally wounded.  When he saw Flournoy
drawing his pistol, he instinctively seized upon
his own, and it went off in his pocket before he
could draw it forth.
No one, to my knowledge, has ever been able
to solve the meaning of the words, " You are the
d-d rascal who insulted me at Etonton." My
brother had never been in Etonton except to
pass through it, and had certainly never met
Flournoy there. My supposition is that possibly he might at some time have had a difficulty
with some person, and, filled with liquor as he
was, he might have imagined his antagonist present at the moment; or that, having had a difficulty with some one at Etonton, he pretended to




244


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


think my brother was his opponent in that difficulty, and (having no other) gave this as a reason for shooting. I have not heard that he ever
gave, or attempted to give, any explanation of
the exclamation.
At half past twelve in the morning I was
awakened at my hotel, and informed that my
brother was shot. I dressed myself, and followed the messenger to the fatal spot, a mile distant, where I found my poor brother weltering in
his blood. The murderer had fled, and it only
remained for me, with the help of friends, to convey my brother home and see him die-the medical man informing me there was no hope of his
surviving more than a few hours. The poor fellow retained his senses to the last, but would give
me no particulars of the cause of the difficulty.
When asked who shot him, he answered distinctly, " William Flournoy;" but when desired
to give the particulars of the quarrel, he said,
impatiently, "We had no quarrel; it is all nonsense; let it go."  About three o'clock he
breathed his last, having suffered great pain for
three hours. No one has ever known-no one
can ever know the agony his brother experienced then, and for years afterward; but that is
not a part of the history of the case.
The coroner's jury brought in a verdict of
"willful murder" against Flournoy, and the governor offered a reward for his apprehension, but
he was not taken. During the following summer, while I was absent from the state, he delivered himself up, and, upon such evidence as
could then be procured, was admitted to bail in
the sum of twenty thousand dollars, to appear
and stand a trial upon the charge of murder. In
the mean time he had retained the whole bar of
the county, so that I was compelled to go to the
neighboring county of Bibb for a lawyer to assist the prosecuting officer whenever the trial
should come on.
I had never seen Flournoy, to my knowledge;
but, knowing almost every body by sight, I was
fearful, on my return to the state in the fall, that
I might meet this man and speak to him, as I
did to others-perhaps shake hands with him!
This dread haunted me continually, and made
me very shy of all persons I did not actually
know by name.
There were persons who thought that when I
should meet the murderer of my brother I ought
to shoot him down like a dog. Others, and by
far the greater number, considered I was doing
my whole duty by prosecuting him on the indictment found against him in the Superior Court. I
will not pretend that I had not strong temptations to follow the advice of those who thought


I ought to take the law into my own hands; but,
without considering the probability of my being
killed instead of killing, should I attempt to become my brother's avenger, the idea of taking
life, under any circumstances, could never, for
any length of time, be entertained by me. The
slayer of my younger brother was a rich man; I
was as poor as it is possible to be, and live respectably. The chances, I knew, were against a
conviction; but my mind was made up to pursue
the murderer to the extent of the law, and no
farther.
I am now going to relate a little incident which
may possibly interest the believers in mesmerism.
During the fall of 1833 Major Ward was shot by
Mr. M'Comb in an affray one night at the latter's hotel, and it was supposed the major would
die of the wound, which happened to be on the
very same spot, apparently, where my brother
received his wound the year before. This affray
was the subject of conversation every where the
next morning after its occurrence. I had been
to see Major Ward, and attentively examined
the wound; so, when I saw in a public place a
circle of men engaged in discussing the probabilities of his recovery or death, describing the situation of the wounded man, and discoursing generally of the affray, I stepped into and made one
of the circle. A man exactly opposite to me
was making some statement respecting the situation of the bullet-wound in Major Ward. I did
not know him, but, when he finished speaking, I
said, " You are mistaken; I know exactly the situation of the wound; it is just here," placing my
finger on his velvet vest; and I here declare that
at that moment I felt a shock as of electricity,
which made me start as if receiving a heavy
blow. I don't know that he felt a shock, but he
started back as if struck too, and we were both
seized by the by-standers and dragged away in
opposite directions. I instantly became aware,
before a word was spoken, that it was my brother's murderer whom I had touched with my finger. He knew me well enough, and, prompted
by his guilty conscience, he thought I was about
to avenge my brother's murder on the spot.
" That is Flournoy," I said to those who were
dragging me away.
"Yes," replied one; "but come along; let
the law take its course; you shall not attack him
here; he is always armed, and you are more likely to fall than he."
"Gentlemen," I replied, "let me go-release
me! I have no idea of acting as you suppose. I
did not know him. Now I do, and shall avoid
him as I would a serpent."
On my word they released me. Casting my




MURDER OF AN ACTOR IN GEORGIA.


245


eyes toward the group of which Flournoy formed
the centre, I took a good look at him, so that I
should know him again. He was very pale.
After various postponements, the cause was set
for trial in the winter of 1834. By the advice
of my counsel, General Beall, of Macon, I underwent an examination and was admitted to
the bar, so that I could assist at the prosecution,
having traveled from Montgomery, a distance of
nearly three hundred miles, in the dead of winter, and over the worst kind of roads, for the especial purpose of endeavoring to convict this
man.
In the course of the trial-the particulars of
which I am not going to record —I became
aware for the first time of the fact that my
brother had shown a pistol when warned by a
friend to avoid a rencounter with Flournoy, and
expressed himself "READY FOR HIM." I felt
very certain then that there would be no conviction of the murderer; it would be urged upon
the jury that the affray amounted to a duelnothing more; and so it turned out.
Having been denounced by one of the attorneys for the defense as one seeking the life of the
defendant by this prosecution, while, on the other
hand, many warm-hearted Georgians having expressed surprise that I did not take the law into
my own hands and shoot the slayer of my brother
at sight, I felt it to be my duty on this occasion
to set myself right before the court and jury,
which I did in a speech of perhaps twenty minutes, wherein my position was clearly defined.
As prosecutor, made so by the law, as well as by
my near relationship to the deceased, it was my
duty to use all legal means to convict the prisoner, but beyond this I should not proceed one
step? Should the jury acquit or convict, there
was the end of my mission. My closing remarks
were addressed to the prisoner, who sat with his
counsel within four feet of where I stood, a table
only dividing us.
"Whatever may be the verdict of this jury,"
I said, "you, William Flournoy, are convicted
of murder by your own conscience. You know
that my brother intended you no harm-that it
was not in self-defense you discharged your pistol at his heart. Before God and man, I charge
you with basely murdering my young brother.
You tremble now and turn pale at the charge.
Your peace of mind is gone, never, never to be
recovered. The sleep of the innocent will never
more be yours. You ARE A MURDERER; and I
tell you here in this crowded court-room, at this
hour of midnight, that, whether convicted or acquitted here, you will evermore carry the mark
of a homicide upon your brow; and from this


time forth, in this world, YOU WILL NEVER SLEEP
AGAIN."
I left the court-room and sought that repose
which my journey and the exciting scenes of the
trial had deprived me of for three days and
nights. When I awakened, late on the following
day, I learned that the murderer had been acquitted and was at large.
*      *      *      *     *
Two years passed away. I had left Georgia
immediately after the trial, and now returned to
its borders (Columbus) to attend to some business unconnected with my profession. Some Indian disturbances in the Creek nation were anticipated (this was in the spring of 1836), and,
having concluded the business which took me
there, it was my desire to avoid the night-traveling in the stage from the Georgia line, in returning to Alabama- to "Elliott's," thirteen
miles from the Chattahoochee River. I therefore proceeded to a livery stable and endeavored
to hire a horse and buggy, intending to await at
Elliott's the arrival of the stage in the morning.
Failing to get the conveyance, I was turning to
leave the stable, when I was accosted by a stooping, miserable - looking individual, wearing a
slouched hat and a great-coat, who held out his
hand to me and greeted me by name. Supposing he was a former acquaintance whose face I
had forgotten, I was about to take his hand, when,
just as my fingers touched his, I felt a shock
exactly like the one heretofore spoken of, and I
started back, exclaiming, "You are Flournoy!"
I felt it was the murderer, though not in the
slightest degree resembling that individual as I
had last seen him.
"Yes, "he answered feebly, and attempting to
come near me, " I am William Flournoy; and I
have been long seeking you. I heard you were
here, and I have come from my place on purpose
to see you. Do not refuse what I have to ask."
I can not very well describe my feelings.
There was the slayer of my poor brother standing abjectly before me, with his hands clasped
as if in supplication. I confess my first sensations were those & pity; but conquering them
as unworthy to be entertained for this person, I
was next tempted to strike him down with my
arm, and spurn him with my foot. After a moment's hesitation, I made up my mind to leave
him as soon as possible, and thus get out of the
way of temptation.
"I want nothing to say to you or do with
you," I said, and, brushing past him, walked over
into the broad, sandy street, determined to avoid
him at all hazards; but, though I did not hear
his steps, I felt he was following me. Stopping




246


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


in the centre of the wide street, I turned suddenly, and, sure enough, there he was, close by me,
in the same supplicating attitude as when I left
him at the stable door. Looking into his sunken
eyes, I asked, angrily, "Why do you follow me?"
I shall never forget his despairing look as he
answered, in a deep and solemn voice,
" I want you, the brother of the man I slew,
to shoot me-here-right here."
Shocked beyond measure by his words and
manner, both full of earnestness, I scarcely knew
what to say or do.
"No," at length I replied, " it is not for me to
punish you."
"Ah!" replied he, quickly, "it is not punishment I ask you to inflict; that I have received
already, in full measure; but it is vengeance I
wish you to take-vengeance for your brother's
murder, and upon his murderer."
Observing I did not immediately reply, the
miserable wretch continued:
"Yes, his murderer; you called me by the
right name when you spoke to the jury two
years ago. I am a murderer! I know it now!
Then, I endeavored to persuade myself that I
committed the deed in self-defense; but I soon
found out it was not so. You said, at the trial,
I would never sleep more, AND I NEVER HAVE!"
" What!" I exclaimed, "not slept in two
years!"
" It is true," said he-" perfectly true what I
say; not once have I slept since that terrible
night when you spoke to me in the court-room.
I have closed my eyes at night, as usual; I have
steeped my senses in brandy until unconsciousness took the place of sleep, but that blessed
sleep you drove away that night has never returned to me for one moment. My life is a burden to me. I pray you, in God's name and in
your murdered brother's, to take it-take it!"
Though not a tear dimmed the homicide's eye,
mine began to moisten, and I felt it incumbent
upon me to leave this man before he should perceive my weakness.  Summoning all my firmness, I said, "Ask forgiveness of that God whose
name you invoke. Let your future life be such
as to prove the sincerity of your repentance,
and-"
" No, no, no!" he said, interrupting me. "No
repentance will avail me. Let me die by your
hand; then I feel that there may be some hope
for me-then your brother may forgive me."
I could endure this scene no longer. Turning
suddenly from him, I walked away, leaving him
standing in the middle of the street. " I WILL
DIE TO-NIGHT" were the last words I heard him
utter, and when I reached the corner I turned


and saw the miserable creature standing in the
middle of the street with his hands clasped as
before.
I started for home in the stage that night,
being the only passenger. The driver's name
was Green. About six miles from the river we
stopped at a log cabin, in a swampy hollow, to
water the horses, and saw a party of a dozen or
more of Creek Indians executing the war dance!
The driver, a good jolly soul, wanted to stop and
take a turn or two with them; but I persuaded
and pulled him away, and we got through safely.
The very next night the stage was captured and
burnt, several passengers were killed, and that
very driver (Green) tied to a tree, his feet cut
off, and burnt to death!
*    *    *   *    *   *    *    *
"I will die to-night!" said the murderer; and
he spoke truly. About a month after the events
I have been relating, when the Indian disturbances had been quelled, and the mail could come
through safely, my friend James Kevlin, of Columbus, wrote me at Mobile as follows:
" The very next morning after you left Columbus, the body of your brother's murderer was
found at his country place, pierced by a dozen
rifle bullets and scalped-the first victim of our
little Indian War."
Butting an Iceberg.
"Starboard hard! Stop her!"
These words, uttered in a loud and sharp voice
by the look-out stationed on the bowsprit, were
heard by every one of us on deck, and they
caused us all to start to our feet, for we became
instantly aware there was a vessel or an iceberg
-most likely the latter-right ahead of us, and
not more than fifty yards off. We were in a
thick fog, which had arisen in less than ten minutes-so thick that those who were in the middle of the ship could just see, dimly and more
dimly as the distance increased, to the man at
the wheel one way, and to the man at the lookout on the other; and when the last-named individual shouted out the words written in italics,
we were "brought up all standing"-that is to
say, all of us that did not faint, and only one of
us, an elderly female, did that.
It was on the 9th of July, 1859, at 1 50 P.M.,
that we, the passengers in the good but old ship
Canada, of the Cunard line, heard that awful
cry, which seemed to come from a man in mortal agony-awful to us who knew its import,
and found ourselves staring up and down at the
two lines of ghosts, as we all appeared to be at
the time, waiting for the 'impending shock. It
is said that in such times of mortal peril our




A HARD HIT ON AN ICEBERG.


217


thoughts are very active, and I know it to be so,
for it seems to me that, in the ten seconds we
stood there, I thought of almost every incident
of my previous life. I also thought of events in
the lives of other people, and of the end of the
lives of some. I thought of the steam-ship President, and other vessels which had gone down
just as the Canada appeared likely to go; of
poor Tyrone Power, the great Irish actor, of Le
Grand Smith, and hundreds of others, of whose
fate nothing had been nor ever would be known.
I thought of home, and the anxious ones who
would never know how we perished, if we were
to perish, and of thousands of other matters not
necessary to mention here. My son and I stood
there casting our eyes up and down at the two
rows of ghosts in the thick fog.
" Let me go down and get our life-preservers,"
proposed my son.
"No," said I, quickly, " our only life-preserver
now is God."
My idea was, that if the vessel was to sink,
my son, being below, would be overwhelmed
with the waters first, and I preferred that we
should take our fate together; so there we stood,
holding each other by the arms and shoulders,
looking up and down at our pale fellow-passengers. Once only I turned my eyes aside, and
then I saw a boat, hanging by the davits, filled
with people, and heard a man, who held an oar
uplifted threateningly toward others who were
endeavoring to climb up and into the swinging
boat, exclaim, "Not another one!" meaning,
as I understood it, that the boat would not hold
any more than were already in it, and he would
knock the brains out of any one who should attempt to force his way into that crowd. I could
scarcely refrain from laughing at the young man's
earnestness, and I thought to myself, "You are
very welcome to the monopoly of that mode of
preservation; that little boat, full of frightened
people, will almost certainly be upset in lowering it to the water; we stand right here, and
take our chance."
'I most solemnly declare that I had no consciousness of fear within me at that most critical
moment of my life, and it was the same with my
son, I am sure, though I have no doubt we were
as pale as any of the other ghosts. There was
no time for fear. We were very well aware that
in a few seconds the shock would come. Thle
vessel was about 280 feet in length. We were
in the centre, and could only see, as I have said,
as far as either end of it, consequently the man
on the look-out could only see as far ahead into
the fog from where he was stationed as was the
distance from us to him. When he gave the


warning cry, he instantly jumped from the bowsprit to the forecastle deck, and, with the other
sailors who had been standing and sitting there,
began a precipitate retreat aft, from which movements we knew he and the sailors expected the
vessel would immediately strike the impending
object, whatever it might be. We were going
at the rate of eleven or twelve miles an hour, so
we were sure the catastrophe was very nearly
upon us.
(n the previous day all the passengers had
been anxious to see the icebergs, and we had
arisen unusually early in order to get a good
view of them, Captain Lang having told us we
should probably be among them at dawn of day
-and we were. The morning was clear and
sunshiny, and we had seen and counted twentysix good-sized bergs, some a mile off, some two
miles, and others within half a mile of the ship.
We had got by them all, as we supposed, and
most of us had disposed ourselves upon settees
on deck, reading, when suddenly, as I have related, the fog enveloped us, and the fog-whistle
began to sound at short intervals, and then came
the warning cry from the look-out.
My son and I had been to England ostensibly
to attend the great Handel Festival held in the
Crystal Palace at Sydenham, seven miles from
London, but, being there, we of course did not
neglect seeing all we could see in so short a time
(nineteen days) in the British capital. The festival was a grand affair indeed, occupying three
days, the music of the MESSIAH, ISRAEL IN
EGYPT, the DETTINGEN TE DEUM, and other
fine compositions of Handel being given by over
four thousand performers, conducted by Costa,
and the solo parts sustained by Simms Reeves,
Miss Novello, and the baritone singer who accompanied Jenny Lind to this country seven
years previously. It was expected the queen
would attend the festival on the third day, but
she failed to appear, and I must confess I thought
a little hard of her for staying away, remembering what a favorite Handel had been of her greatgrandfather. However, I must not omit to say
that she sent Prince Albert and two or three
princesses to occupy the royal box. The attendance on the last day amounted to 28,000
paying people.
We visited the British Museum, Westminster
Abbey, Westminster Hall, St. Paul's, the Tower,
the Tunnel, the Monument, the Zoological Garden, the parks, and the two houses of Parliament-the last by virtue of tickets kindly furnished by Mr. Moran, secretary of our minister.
In the House of Commons about five hundred
ordinary-looking people were seated in rows, all




248


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


wearing their hats except when addressing the
chair. Not much business seemed to be doing
that afternoon, the session only lasting an hour
and a half. In the House of Lords, which was
sitting as a court, there were not more than
twenty persons in the room, including the lords,
of whom there were only three, besides the queerlooking chap who occupied the woolsack. We
saw the queen pass in her state carriage through
Green Park on her way to open Parliament, and
found her to be a tolerably good-looking geftlewoman, with a benevolent but somewhat worried
countenance. The coachman who drove the
state carriage was a sight to see-fat, lazy, and
bedizened all over with gold lace, with such a
wig! The Horse Guards were a fine-looking
set of men, and their horses (all jet black) were
worthy of their riders. We saw her majesty
again at Ascot Races.
We witnessed the performance of the TROVATORE at Drury Lane Theatre, with Titiens in
the leading part, an orchestra of forty-eight, conducted by Benedict (Jenny Lind's leader in this
country), and a chorus of one hundred and fifty.
At the Royal Opera, Covent Garden (a guinea
admission), we heard the HUGUENOTS performed, with Mario and Grisi in the principal parts,
an orchestra of ninety-six, under Costa, and a
chorus of over three hundred! At the Standard
Theatre, in Shoreditch, we saw Phelps perform
Othello, and came to the conclusion that when
he became jealous he must have been attacked
with a fit of chills and fever, under the effects of
which he seemed to labor until he stabbed himself in the fifth act. The admission to the Standard Theatre was sixpence only to the pit. At
the Princess's Theatre in Oxford Street, we witnessed the great performance of Shakspeare's
HENRY V., with Mr. and Mrs. Charles Kean and
five hundred people engaged in the representation! At the Haymarket we had the good fortune to see EVERY BODY'S FRIEND, with Charles
Mathews, Buckstone, and Compton in their original characters. The CRITIC was also given,
Charles Mathews assuming the two characters
of Sir Fretful Plagiary and Puff. "Little Robson" played two of his best characters for us at
the Olympic, and Toole, just then beginning to
be appreciated, amused us greatly at the Adelphi.
At Astley's (generally called Hastly's) we saw a
performance of the BATTLE OF WATERLOO, a
very tall man taking the part of Napoleon. We
heard the great Spurgeon preach an excellent
sermon, and excellently he preached it, in the
hall of Surrey Garden (early admission one shilling), from the text, "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might," and thought


his "do it," frequently repeated, was fully equal
to the "do it" of Ellen Tree in the HUNCHBACK,
in her best days. We went into a coal-hole, or
cider-cellar, in the Strand'to hear a mock trial,
but, finding the speeches were indecent, we "retired early."
We also went over to Paris, where we saw as
much, probably, as any other two Americans
ever have seen in four days. To accomplish our
desire to see all over Paris, we ascended to the
top of the Column of July, in the Place de la
Bastile. The view was magnificent. Descending from that great height, we pursued our way
up (or down) the Rue St. Antoine to the Hotel
de Ville, and from thence over a bridge to the
Church of Notre Dame and the H6tel Dieu;
thence back to the River Seine, in which we took
a swim, paying one sou each for admission to the
bathing-house, but towels, bathing-dresses, dressing-room, and soap carried the price up to about
one franc each. Repassing the Hotel de Ville,
we followed the Rue Rivoli till we came to the
palaces of the Louvre and the Tuileries (now all
one), and into the garden, through which we
passed to the Place de la Concorde; after spending an hour in which, and taking a look at the
neighboring Church of the Madeleine (outside
and inside), and viewing the Grand Column in
the Place Vend6me, with the Little Corporal on
top of it, we went to dinner, and afterward to
the Theatre Frangaise. This was one day in
Paris. The other days were equally well employed.
It was on the Banks of Newfoundland-why
that particular part of the Atlantic Ocean should
be called the "Banks" of any "land," I can't
imagine, for we were hundreds of miles from any
shore-on our return voyage, that the event occurred which I am endeavoring to record.
We waited the ten seconds with exemplary
patience, not knowing but-indeed, rather expecting-we should all go down in about a minute after we should strike. At length, c-r-u-n-c-h
it came (the shock), and for a second or two
we could scarcely retain our standing positions.
The vessel trembled to its centre, and the great
monster of an iceberg came booming along on
our starboard side, tearing the wheel-house entirely off, but, fortunately, not injuring the wheel,
and passing astern into the fog and out of sight
almost instantly. It was about as large as a
church. The captain came running aft, exclaiming, "The ship is all right!" but it was
some time, and not until we had examined for
ourselves, that we (the passengers) felt that possibly we might be spared to get into port. On
examination, it was found that the bow of the




THE SHAKSPEARE MONUMENT IN CENTRAL PARK.


249


vessel, including bowsprit, keelson, and nearly
the whole of the forecastle, had been stove in,
leaving an opening as large as a barn-door, extending down to within a foot of the water's
edge.  The timbers, some of them  fourteen
inches thick, were crushed up like so many pipestems. If the event had occurred ten minutes
later in the day (2 o'clock), nothing could have
saved the lives of eight sailors, who would at
that time have occupied the berths in the forecastle. If the weather had been as it had been
the day before, nothing could have saved the vessel; she would have shipped twenty hogsheads
of water at every wave. The sheer the pilot
was enabled to give her in the ten seconds which
intervened between the time when he was warned to put down the helm and the happening of
the collision, prevented her meeting the iceberg
exactly "head on," and, in fact, saved the ship.
While laying to about four hours, the cargo
was changed so as to lighten the fore part of the
vessel, and raise it about three feet. Across and
around the huge opening made by the iceberg
double sails were wrapped and fastened. At
about 6 P.M. the fog cleared away, and discovered Old Cruncher about four miles to leeward.  All being ready, we started on our
course. Next day, being Sunday, we had religious services, and most fervent thanks were given
to God for deliverance from our very great danger.
The sea continuing calm, we passed on safely,
and on Tuesday, the 12th of July, arrived at
Halifax, where a large crowd was assembled on
the wharf, attracted by the appearance of the
Cunarder as she steered up the harbor with her
head cut off and her neck wrapped up in towels.
"Halloo!" hailed a sailor on shore, as we
neared the wharf; "' what's the matter, and what
have you been about?"
" Can't you see?" answered the man with the
line, which he was just throwing to his interlocutor; " can't you see? WE'VE BEEN BUTTING
AN ICEBERG!",!
The Shakspeare Monument in Central
Park.
I had intended to give an account in this ap.
pendix of the movement for the erection of a
monument to Shakspeare in Central Park, and,
with the view of collecting information on the
subject, I addressed a note to James H. Hackett,
Esq., knowing that he had been most active in
the business,basking him to communicate to me
such facts relative to the origin of the undertaking, which all devotees of the great poet must


feel a deep interest in, as were in his possession.
Mr. Hackett answered promptly, and I see no
better way of placing the facts before my readers
than by giving his letter in full, just as it came
from his pen:
James H. Hackett to Sol. Smith.
"107 East Thirty-fifth Street, Murray Hill,{
" New York, August 19,1868.
"MY DEAR SIR,-In reply to your note requesting 'the briefest kind of an account of the
origin of the Shakspeare Monument,' in preparation for its foundation, located in the mall of
the Central Park 23d April, 1864, 'and particularly my connection with that enterprise,' I
would mention that, in November, 1863, in a social letter to me from the Earl of Carlisle, chairman of the committee at Stratford-upon-Avon
for a public demonstration there, 23d April, 1864
-the 300th anniversary of the birth of Shakspeare-that gentleman, who, as Lord Morpeth,
had visited and been popular in the United
States in 1842, suggested that that then coming
tercentenary would afford a favorable opportunity for cultivating the good feeling which prevailed between the people of Great Britain and
of the United States, and hoped that some of us
(Americans) might find it convenient to come
and unite in their celebration. Accordingly, the
Hon. Edward Everett, Hon. William H. Seward,
and the British minister, Lord Lyons, were consulted upon the subject, and it was resolved that
an invitation to Americans generally should be
sent to the Stratford committee through Lord
Lyons, and Lord Carlisle was so informed and
highly approved of the course proposed, but, being at the same time (February, 1864) Lord Lieutenant of Ireland and located at Castle Dublin,
he dispatched the correspondence which I had
sent him to the committee at Stratford, urging
their favorable consideration and immediate action in conformity therewith. Owing to the
sudden death soon after of Lord Carlisle, or to
some other cause not known, the middle of
March arrived, and no invitation from the Stratford committee had reached us or been heard of,
and, if it had been received here, it would have
been too late to prove of favorable consequence
in seducing many Americans over to unite in a
celebration in England; and then the idea occurred to me that, though there were but a few
weeks left for the attempt, it was not impossible
to prepare some suitable demonstration on the
23d of April following, including a project for the
erection of a monument to Shakspeare in our own
Central Park.
"I first sought and communicated to Mr. James
W. Wallack my project. He admired my spirit,
but pronounced impracticable the initiation of
any considerable fund for it within so short a
time, and suggested my postponing the attempt
until the next autumn, when he would give a
benefit for the object at his theatre. I then consulted Mr. William Wheatley and Mr. Edwin
Booth; both of them cheered me by offering to
get up a benefit, the former at Niblo's Theatre
and the latter at the Winter Garden, in aid of a
fund for the erection of a monument to Shakspeare. Through the friendly aid of the Hon.




250


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


Charles P. Daly, a site for it was conceded by the
Commissioners of the Central Park; and, calling
again upon my old friend Mr. Wallack and reporting progress, he concluded, ' The arrangements of my theatre this spring disable me from
giving such fund a benefit, but, whenever I may
think you are likely to succeed, I'll put my hand
in my pocket and give you a thousand dollars
toward its accomplishment.'
"To prepare the foundation for the ceremony
of laying the corner-stone on the tercentenary
involved some pecuniary responsibility, which I
agreed with the commissioners to take, and it
was laid accordingly; the honor of wielding the
trowel on the occasion was conferred upon me.
Some $2000 were obtained by the benefit at Niblo's and Winter Garden same evening. Mr. Wallack added his $1000 soon afterward, and, together with another benefit at Niblo's by Mr.Wheatley and a second one by Mr. Edwin Booth, which
netted nearly $3000, and donations from private
citizens of New York, the fund had reached last
spring upward of $23,000, when a contract with
John Quincy Adams Ward, the sculptor, was entered into for the completion of a statue after
his model, and which Mr. Ward thinks may be
finished and placed upon its pedestal by the
23d of April, 1869. Yours faithfully,
'tJAs. H. HACKET-T.
"Sol. Smith, Esq."
High Tide at Long Branch.
Roll, roll! dash, dash! What does it all
mean, the tide rising to such a height? Such a
thing was never heard of before. I was aware
that in winter time there were storms; that then
the waves rolled.over the bluff banks here at
Long Branch, and sometimes swept away fences,
pig-pens, and small houses; but that in August
such an event could occur seemed so unlikely,
that when the excellent new landlord of the
Clarendon (Watts his name) called out, " Get
up, all of ye! the tide is carrying us all away!"
which proclamation he accompanied by a severe
pounding upon a Chinese gong, I could scarcely
credit the evidence of my senses. My room was
in the second story of the house, and I thought
if any body was safe I must be. Nevertheless, it
must be confessed that my uneasiness was considerable as the gong of warning continued to
sound in the distant corridor, and Watts's voice
persisted in proclaiming that we should all be
"carried away."
It was as dark as Erebus, and I heard, or fancied I heard, a roaring of the waves very unusual
to me, my hearing being none of the best, and I
began to reflect seriously on our situation-I say
our situation, for my wife lay beside me quite
unconscious of the threatening danger. The
gong continued to sound, so I determined to see
how matters stood, or at leastfeel my way to the
door or window, and take a look out. I stepped


out of bed, and, by George! one of my feet found
itself in water a foot deep!
"We are inundated!" I exclaimed, as I dashed about the room frantically, and then began
shaking my wife furiously to awaken her.
"What is the matter?" asked my sleeping
partner, laying hold of me in affright. " Is the
house on fire, or what?"
"We are drowning!" I exclaimed. "Don't
you hear the gong? The tide has risen, and the
Clarendon is floating off at this moment. We
shall soon be out at sea, and there will be no
hope for us."
I hereupon seized my wife, and began to make
toward the door-and I must here remark that
she is not a light load to carry, even for a strong
man, which I am not. The waves seemed to
roar louder and louder; the gong sounded more
terrifically than ever; the house seemed to be
loosened from its foundations, and rolled about
in harmony with the moving waters, while " carried away!" was the distant but unceasing cry
of the landlord.
"On horror's head horrors accumulate,"
Shakspeare says, you know. I felt as though
swimming was my only chance, and I resolved,
if I could get out, to do my best in that line,
trusting to the buoyancy of my wife to keep her
afloat, while I propelled. The door was locked,
and I had forgotten where I had laid or hung
the key.
"Burst it open!" suggested my wife.
" Just so," responded I.
And I receded a step or two to get headway
for a big kick at the door, which, in my opinion,
would have shattered it to atoms, when we stumbled backward over our large traveling trunk,
and there we lay sprawling on the floor-or,
rather, I did!
*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *
The sun was shining brightly into the room,
and the gong was sounding for breakfast. My
wife stood over me in her new night-cap, smiling
benignantly on my prostrate condition, and quietly remarking,
"You have made a horrible muss here, old
man-upset the slop-pail, and knocked things
about generally. Had bad dreams, I reckon. I
told you it was not good to eat crabs for supper."
Complimentary Benefits.
Time was when a complimentary benefit
meant something. John Howard Payne, at first
a precocious actor, and afterward a translator
of French plays in London, and author of the
ballad of "Home, sweet Home," received a com



HUMBUGGERY OF COMPLIMENTARY BENEFITS.


251


plimentary benefit in New York. Thomas Cooper, an actor, foia time without a rival upon the
American boar s, was complimented in a similar
way upon his retirement from the stage. These
demonstrations took place more than thirty years
ago, and the recipients of the " compliments" are
now resting in their graves. They were both
entitled, by long service, to such a proof of the
estimation in which they were held by their countrymen. But how is it nowadays with the
" complimentaries" which are given at our theatres? How are they gotten up? Who are the
instigators and abettors of these benefits? Is it
the people who sign the requests, or is it the actors and actresses themselves, or some particular
friend, aided by a newspaper reporter or two (for
the sake of the advertising which accrues to the
papers), who prepare the " request" and solicit
signatures? Are not the letter and answer generally written by the same person? Some busy,
meddling individual, wishing to show himself
particularly intimate and friendly with a party
who is about to close a rather unsuccessful engagement, goes round to his friends and acquaintances" Here, colonel (or major, or captain), we are
going to give a complimentary benefit at the theatre, and we want your name."
" My name? I don't know the person."
"' That makes no difference; you needn't go
to the benefit; but let us have your name to the
request."
"But, confound it! I don't request any thing
of the kind."
" Well, you have no objection to the affair going on?"
" Not at all. It can go on, I suppose, without my name being paraded in the newspapers."
" Oh, hang it, put down your name; it can
do you no harm, and will perhaps do some good."
So, after a little more persuasion, another
name is obtained. Thus some twenty or thirty
citizens are persuaded into publishing their names
requesting an individual they have perhaps never
seen or heard of to accept of a complimentary
benefit! To make the thing more imposing, the
canvasser, or the beneficiaire, or the stage manager, or whoever it is that makes out the programme or " correspondence" for the newspapers, after giving the actual signatures to the petition, adds "143 others," and, appending the
grateful answer of the recipient of the " compliment," in which the night is "fixed"-by the
kind co-operation of the manager-(always happening to be on the very night on which the
regular benefit was to take place), out comes
the announcement, in all the papers, of the


" complimentary benefit of the citizens of Soand-So to Mr. and Mrs. So-and-So."
Did any one ever hear of Macready taking a
complimentary benefit? or Ellen Tree? or Charlotte Cushman? or any other truly great and attractive artist? I think not. It is only the
twinklers in the dramatic firmament that require
such humbuggery to keep them from sinking to
their deserved obscurity. The real " stars" of
the profession despise such tomfoolery.
It is, unfortunately, not the would-be " stars"
alone who resort to this method of bolstering up
their fame and fortune. Stock actors- sometimes talented and deserving ones-are occasionally induced by their friends to resort to this
disgusting and nonsensical mode of " getting a
house," particularly in dull times, when it is difficult to gather an audience. It is within the
memory of some that a young actor of promiseone of our own people, raised and educated here
(St. Louis), and who had never failed in obtaining a good benefit-was once (in an evil hour)
persuaded to take a complimentary. The list
of requesters was easily filled up, for the people
all liked the young man, and the " correspondence" was duly published. What was the result?
A failure. For the first time was the appeal of
this favorite actor and citizen neglected. A benefit in the ordinary way would probably have
been fully attended; but the complimentary people had taken hold of the matter, and the actor's
real friends considered the matter settled-the
house would be good " any how," and it being a
very warm night, they concluded they would
stay at home-and they did. The newspaper
proprietors pocketed their advertising fee for the
" correspondence," the manager received his expenses, and the favorite actor was out of pocket some fifty dollars! So much for the kindly
interference of friends.
Let us hope that this sort of humbuggery and
nonsense will be done away with.
Committee on Authors and Amateurs.
As long ago as 1826 there was formed in Cincinatti a " Committee on Authors and Amateurs," consisting of Alexander Drake, Frederick Henderson, A. W. Jackson (afterward manager of the Bowery Theatre, New York), Lemuel
Smith, and the writer hereof, the latter individual
being then elected chairmanfor life! It is melancholy to reflect that, except the chairman, all
the members of this committee have closed their
earthly " sittings," and will never more " report"
upon the merits or demerits of new plays or
would-be actors. Nevertheless, the committee,




252


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


enlarged by the accession of new members, and
with " branches" distributed all through the United States and Canada, has continued to exist and
flourish down to this day, albeit the chairman of
the parent body, retired from the profession of
the stage, and not relishing, perhaps, so much as
formerly the usual " proceedings," has called but
few meetings in latter years.
To entitle a person to membership, it was not
absolutely essential that he should belong to the
theatrical profession. The press has been largely represented in it, the law has furnished many
members, and the healing art has contributed
its full quota to this very droll organization.
The objects had in view by the founders of
" the committee" were:
1. The cure of individuals afflicted with stage
madness.
2. To relieve managers of theatres from the
sometimes dangerous responsibility of directly rejecting worthless pieces offered for representation.
3. To extract (incidentally) from the proceedings of the committee as much fun and amusement as the nature of each case would admit of.
It must not be understood that all who applied
for admission into the profession, or who submitted new plays for managerial approval, were sent
before the committee. A nice discrimination
was always exercised in selecting the " victims, "
as they were called, and it was very seldom a
mistake was made in this regard. Persons taken
in training were generally "put through;" and
very many permanent cures of stage madness
have been effected, as could be easily proved by
living witnesses, were not their mouths forever
closed by the " solemn obligation" they were required to take upon themselves at their respective times of trial.
There are many citizens of New Orleans, Cincinnati, St. Louis, Mobile, Louisville, and other
Western and Southern cities who have participated in the doings of this committee, and who
still live to remember the rich scenes they have
witnessed and assisted in while " sitting" upon
the merits of aspiring young Richards, Hamlets,
Norvals, and Romeos, and during the reading of
new plays never destined to be represented on
the stage. It would be impossible to convey to
the reader any thing more than the faintest idea
of these " proceedings," therefore I shall not attempt it. I can truly say, however, that they
were always full of fun, and running over. A
few isolated "cases," with some letters of application, which I shall give in the exact words
of their respective writers, must suffice for these
pages.


LETTERS OF APPLICATION.


Without regard to dates, I poceed to give a
few letters from aspiring young heroes who
would become actors.  These letters, with a
thousand or two of others of the same kind, having been referred to the " Committee on Authors
and Amateurs," are presented as specimens of
the style in which managers are addressed by
those who have made up their minds to adopt the
theatrical profession. There is no mistake in
the genuineness of the documents, the originals
being furnished to the printers of these sketches:
A CLASSICAL APPLICANT.
"St. Louie, May 13, 1840.
"MR. SOL. SMITH, ESQ.: SIR, - Although a
perfect stranger to you, I do sincerely hope that
you will not, in any wise, consider me impertinent on account of my addressing you in this
style, anonymous tho' it is and perhaps quaint
withall. But the only excuse I am able to offer
is that I belong to the present generation, and
that you are aware is very quaint. Also, that I
may have some notions concerning matters and
things, which, to superior understandings, may
seem rather unique, instance this affair in particular. Why I do not personally appear before
you and verbally state my request, I will tell
you on some future day, if an opportunity ever
offer. But, to the Point.
"I have long been affected with a mania for
mimickry, and never having had an opportunity
of Privately having my bump of representation
examined by any disciple of Gall, or Spurzheim,
I am at a loss to know, whether it is decidedly,
or partially developed, or whether it is developed
at all; being equally as ignorant of its locality
upon my caput, but if it be not developed, even
should there be a cavity, where a bump should
'towering rise;' still I imagine that I might
soon acquire the ' modus operandi' of acting;
the tenets of the above-mentioned worthies to
the contrary notwithstanding. But my strange
'un! say you, what meaneth this rigmarole,
know'st thou not, that I have else to do than
attend to the empty nonsense over which ray
eyes have glanced? True! true! and therefore
I'll have done quick, I will not detain you long.
I wish very much to appear upon the stage in
the capacity of an actor; and when I have a remarkably strong desire for anything I contrive
to gratify my wish, in the most efficient manner
possible, and in this emergency I know of no
other expedient than to appeal to you. No opportunity has heretofore offered to favor my
wishes; the present I hope may be auspicious.
I have been an actor in my time; but the wide
world was the theatre; and the stage-no matter-I'll tell thee at a future day, where the stage
and where the scenery. Now I wish to confine
my operations-to compress them into a more
narrow space —within.the walls of a mimic
world, where tragedy and comedy are really
nought but fiction, I would bear a part.
" But Sir I did not take up my feathered distaff to spin a long, ragged, jagged, uneven yarn,
or tell of things to which one may attach no




THE COMMITTEE ON AUTHORS AND AMATEURS.


253


consequence-but merely to make a simple request; and perhaps you may consider it a very
simple request. Well! be it so; it arises from
my own peculiarity. My request is, That you
would merely enroll me among the members
of your corps. I would demand no compensation whatever for my services unless you (yourself being the judge) would think them worthy
of compensation; until I might be capable of
succeeding 'secundum artem.' But should the
prospect of succeeding ' a la mode' be very obscure merely open your mouth and speak in this
wise. Non tu es doctissimue Romanorum, non
tu es sumae prudentie, go thy way young knight
of the buskin, I'll have none of thee-merely sir
give me a hint and I will be minus. I am sir
your obedient and humble servant,
"L. M. DUNMORE."
I don't remember the result of the above strong
appeal. I guess he got the "hint," and was, "minus," as he promised to be.
ANOTHER "CLASSICALLY"'-EDUCATED YOUTH.
" St. Louis, June 10t, 1844.
"TO THE MANAGERS: GENTLEMEN,-A young
man in this city, at the age of 20, possessing a
classical education, who has paid much attention to the cultivation of the rhetoric art, and
has quite a taste for the Dramatic Profession, is
desirous of connecting himself With a Theatrical
Company, and would Hereby beg leave to ask
on what terms, if at all, you would receive him
into your Company now in St. Louis.
"A letter addressed ' Don Letrande,' and dropped into the Post Office to day or on Monday
would be seasonably Received.
" Very Respectfully."
Probably " Don Letrande" got no answer, as
the committee paid no attention to anonymous
communications.
A PEARL NOT TO BE CAST AWAY.
" New York, May 25,1837.
"MR. SMITH: DEAR SIR,-Observing an advertisement of yours in the New York Spirit of
Times, stating you should be in New York in
August, to make professional engagements.
Having a great desire to become a performer,
and no means to gratify that desire-my friends,
although giving their consent, withholding their
aid (which is much more desirable than their
consent). In this predicament I am forced to
apply to you. I have no doubt that if I were to
apply to any of our enterprising managers in
this city, I should receive their immediate support, nay, I have almost been told so, that by
one gentleman, the Manager of the N******l
Theatre, but in accordance with the wishes of
my friends, I have consented not to make an appearance in this city, and consequently the only
means left was to apply to you. I am 14 years
of age, and already perfect in the following parts:
Richard III., Bertram, Shylock, Hamlet, Rolla,
Othello, Carwin, and Beverly, in the domestic
play of the Gamester (Ruined), and have been
told by several that my conception of these
parts was extremely correct, and with a person,
as I am told; well adapted to the stage. Should


you, however, think this a mere boyish whim,
you will see the inconsistency of that in my
having persevered in my parts, and at a time
when I had but two hours leisure in a day. At
the time when Edwin Forrest made his first appearance, he was but a few years older than myself, and if I have been correctly informed, his
first prospects were no better than mine.
Should you think favorably of it, the terms
which I propose are these: the dresses to be
found by you, the expences to Mobile or St.
Louis to be at my expence, if I should succeed
to perform for you (for the privilege and the
dresses), one month from the night of my first
appearance; should I not succeed, you will be
no loser, as I can give security for the amount
of the dresses and the expences of the theatre
for one night. Do not too hastily decide against
me, for perhaps in so doing you throw a pearl
away. At all events let me receive an answer,
stating what time you shall be in New York,
and if I shall call on you. If the terms are not
acceptable to your ideas, you can make them so
on your arrival in New York.
"You will please direct your answer to Thomas R. Hammond, New York, and be sure at least
to answer it, for if you do not answer it, I shall
think you have not received it, and write to you
again.
" 'Not worse the fruit that in the wilderness the
blossom blows.'
"Yours Very Respectfully,
"THOMAS R. HAMMOND."
I fear Mr. Hammond was not favored with an
answer, and that he was obliged to " blow" on
in the wilderness, instead of being transplanted
to the sunny South.
A DEMOCRATIC GRADUATE OF S. C. COLLEGE
APPLIES.
"New Orleans, 12th Feb., 1843.
"MR. SMITH: SIR,-In 1836 1 graduated in the
South Carolina College, delivered the anniversary oration of the Clasiosophic Society, and acquitted myself with credit, at least my friends
were partial enough to say with applause. I
commenced the study of the law, was admitted
to practice, located myself in Georgia, where I
soon obtained business, more than enough to
support me; I am in your city upon professional business. But throughout the whole of my
life, from my earliest recollection to the present
time I have been haunted with a sort of idiosyncracy, or rather monomania for the stage. I
have reasoned with myself, and have a thousand
times resolved to conquer my propensity, but
am unable. It grows with my growth, and
strengthens with my strength. My prospects
are good, my business is on the average. I was
nominated by the Democratic party as a candidate for the State Legislature, ran ahead of my
party by 31 votes, and was beaten but 7 in a
strong Whig county. Yet I am willing to forego every thing, fortune, friends, ambition, and
devote myself entirely to the stage. Will you
accept my services? If yea, have printed on
your small bills 'the services of A. B. are accepted'-if nay, destroy this."




254


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


" A. B." was not notified in the small bill, and
it will be seen "this" was not destroyed.
BROTHER TOM WANTS TO PLAY ROLLO.
"New Orleans, 22d January, '51.
"DEAR BROTHER SOL,-I much regret I have
not time at my disposal to see you; yet time
runs. Golden locked and hoary headed Time
gives me no respite, so light of foot and swift of
wing is he or she, by the which gender Sol, doctors disagree; however, we will not, but settle
it, to our mutual satisfaction, over a big bellied
bottle, some of these dull, rainy nights, when
you, Sol, have the blues, and I have the blacks,
or if you please the yellows.
"Well, back to old, young and middle-aged
Time, I was on the point of saying, fast man, as
I am, and you well know that is not what our
mamma's washed clothes with.
"In plain, downright, flat footed, democratic
way of speaking, I am compelled to leave the
city to-day, yes, to-day; business honor requires
demands, and nothing but honor first and then
a woman; wo-man could serve us now.
"Next Saturday night, please heaven, stages,
hacks and steamboats, I will be here to act the
character of Rollo, in Pizaro. You Sol, must act
the character of Lascasses, for you love 'to hear
and to repeat the heroes name.' The deil will
let it go.
"Well, now for the ladies, heaven ever bless
them. You see Sol I have put them last, last,
where they should be, for you know I don't like
common things or common notions, or moreover, I put the ladies last, because you know Sol,
or I do, that about the last terestial thoughts, my
brain, big as it is, will contain, will be relative to
a pretty foot and well and gently swelling l-g,
pardon, I can't say it.
"Julia must act Elvira, and who Cora, you are
ready to ask, well I will tell you, not that I love
to hear and to repeat the name, for I own on a
time, no matter or when, would get nervous at
the very sound of school -, now that day is
past and nerves case hardened sinner. The
Count must act Pizaro; that disbursed lover,
last on, must act (or play, a better word) rub
brackets out, Alonzo; other characters dispose
of as you please.
"Well Sol you see I have used the imperative
mood which is the only sensible one.
"My object is, 1st the ladies, now 1st their
benefit, then to benefit you Sol, then to benefit
the Saint Charles theatre.
"And lastly making generally, and the good
people of this famous city particularly.
" That night will be my first and last appearance, then Sol you and me will write a play that
will pay you and the ladies well in your green
old ages.
" It will be ' Tragic Comedy,' you Sol the tragical of course, and in after years Sol you and the
ladies will visit my Bachelors (God of Heaven,
in tears) Domicil, sea girt, lashed by the tempest,
lulled by the billows.
"I send the ladies a small memento and ask
in return, for I must have some-thing in return
make Rollo a belt, red silk bound green mockasins, consider as if he walked-waded-in the


battle field. The balance of his person he will
take care of himself.
"You will see nothing of Rollo until about
the time he enters the stage, unless you wish
otherwise, if so address A. B. C. in Post Office,
Saturday eve.   from your bro.,    TOM.
"P.S.-I never overlook letters."
"Brother Tom," whoever he was, received no
encouragement from the committee, and the St.
Charles audience lost the opportunity of witnessing his 'first and last appearance,"
There are numerous letters from femalesgenerally young girls-for they (the blessed creatures!) are not more exempt from stage madness
than young men; indeed, when they are attacked, it is a hard matter to effect a cure; but
they require different treatment. The committee, in not a single instance, "sat" upon their applications. One of the managers, in propria personca, attended to their cases, consequently none
of their letters can appear here.
I will now vary the scene a little by giving the
complaint of a father for taking away the " carackter" of his daughter.
LETTER OF COMPLAINT.
"Mobele, Decem. 11th, 1837.
"SIR,-It is with regret to see, things sim to
torn out so much to my surprais, and dissatisfaction instad of hoping to mit with som advansmunt for my girl, the only indusmant, what ever
maid me cor in to your establismant, of taking
a situvation, you plaged your word as a man of
principall, you would ancarug her, mor so then
circomstances would permit at St. Louis, but instad of this, she has bin taken from the only carackter in which you ever gave her an opertunety
to display to som advantage, and in which she
ganed the generall aprobation of the Ordians;
Is it just! is it far! I askt you, to tak the only
shane out hur hands so barburusly and give it to
an other, a big wommen, who has allrady the favours and good opinnion of the peple-  by havens She is wiping could you stand by camly lik
Gentleman of principhall, and sufer this apression, it was not caust by neglians, on hur part
not to cor suner, for the botte with which she
cam was ditand by axcidances, and not her falt,
and the moment she arifet she appearet before
you. the cast is not yet in the peapers, and I
intret for hur sak you will compermis with Mis
Petry.
"I am with all due restect your humble
" I HENNINGS."
I do not remember what the result of this
touching complaint was, but think it likely we
listened to reason, and entered into a " compermis with Mis Petry."
AN EMBRYO STAR-GOOD TERMS TO BEGIN WITH.
" Cincinnati, August 11,1844.
"SOL. SMITH, ESQ.: SIR,-I have just played
Hamlet in the American Theatre, New Orleans,
for a charitable benefit, with a success unprece



PROCEEDINGS OF THE COMMITTEE.


255


dented. Mr. Kendall, of the Picayune, said he by any other individual-never! He has behad never seen such acting! and others have ex- come, par excellence, " the eminent tragedian"
pressed themselves the same way. I have con- (see bills), and he plays Hamlet and the game of
cluded to play 6 nights here. Terms, same as  e     "     rhe go of
Macready's — receipts. I am only afraid your poker wth  reat success wherever he goescompany can not support me.                excepthere-exemplifying in a very marked man"I shall play 12 nights with you at the St. ner the true policy of an actor, which undoubtCharles, New Orleans, next season. Terms the edly is to begin at the top instead of at the botsame. I am certain of attracting $1200 each tom of the ladder. This is the tragedian who
night, so you will make a good thing of it.                         he
"I want to settle the nights here immediate- produced such effects in rehearsing MACBETH at
ly. Those in New Orleans we can arrange here- a Boston theatre that a countryman ran up the
after.                                     steps and through the front door, asking the
" A line from you, appointing an interview for sweeper if there was a dog-fight going on! and
casting the pieces, is desirable.                            a d    i   g       o wit"Yours Respectfully,  M      B      who elicited from a critic in this city who wit"P.S.-I open in Hamlet. I shall require the nessed one of his stage spasms in the third act
lady who plays the Queen to be sent to my room, of OTHELLO, the remark that the audience were
to be taught the business, which is very particu- in doubt whether he should be hissed or sublar as I do it."                           jected to the operation of phlebotomy.
The answer to the above modest letter was in  The late John S. Robb (himself a member)
the following words:                       gave the following account (in a California pa" Cincinnati Theatre, Aug. 11,1844.  per which he edited in 1854) of the proceedings
"To M- B-, Esq.                         at one of the meetings of the committee:


" SIR,-Your favor of this date is received. In
regard to your acting in Cincinnati, it is impossible, as the company is quite incompetent to
'support' you. It was as much as they could
do to support Macready and Forrest; I feel certain they would fail when put in competition
with such acting as yours, the like of which has
not been seen by that experienced critic, Mr.
Kendall; besides, our Queen Gertrude, we feel
quite sure, would object to visiting your room
for the purpose of being taught business by
you.
"As to New Orleans, there being time to remodel our company for such an occasion, I intend to accept the proffer of your services for
the 12 nights mentioned (the time to be fixed
hereafter), only varying the terms a little, or,
rather, changing the mode of settlement, thus:
As I understand you are a thriving and prosperous merchant in the Crescent City, you can
pay in cash, or give us a Note, satisfactorily indorsed, for $7200, our share of the $1200 per
night you are sure to draw, and we resign to
you the whole receipts for the 12 nights you
play. Respectfully yours,    SOL. SMITH."
No engagement came out of this correspondence; but the candidate for starring honors became so importunate in reference to the proposed immediate Cincinnati engagement, it was
thought advisable to hand him over to the committee, who, after giving him a hearing in Shylock, reported adversely to his claims. But the
committee must have erred in judgment on this
occasion, for see what celebrity the rejected individual has achieved since! In England, Ireland, Scotland, California, and Australia, to say
nothing of the Atlantic States, the great West,
and the South of this part of the world, the people all agree with the judgment pronounced by
G. W. Kendall-they have never seen such acting


"ST. LOUIS DRAMATIC BOARD.
"BY SOLITAIRE.
"Every body has heard of Sol Smith, the well
known theatrical manager; well, as he has retired from the profession now, we may be permitted to briefly describe an association or critical board of which he was then father and
founder. While in St. Louis, during the summer campaign of his company, our friend Sol
was very much troubled by stage-struck youths,
and, indeed, infatuated middle age, who desired
to strut in spangles upon the boards. The manager, occupied by his multifarious duties as lawyer, city councilman, school director, etc., had
not that time to devote to the dramatic part of
the business which he wished, or which was
necessary, particularly in the examination of
stage aspirants; he therefore organized a 'Dramatic Board' to assist him.
" One of the rules of the Board, and one which
required much effort to observe, was, that no
member, on pain of expulsion, should laugh
while it was in session. The last examination
it was our privilege to be present at was deeply interesting. We had a fat, big-headed policeman to examine, who, from being on duty in the
theatre, had imbibed a passion for the stage. I
remember that, upon the occasion named, poor
Dan Marble-one of the best-hearted men and
gifted actors of the American stage-officiated
as a member of the board. A magistrate, famous for the paucity of his intellect, was also an
invited member of the board. From the invitation sent to the latter, he was led to believe
that the members of the board, appreciating his
literary acquirements and critical ability, had
sent for him to help them out of some difficult
case.
"The board having been called to order, the
rules read, the theatrical victim was admitted,
and without mercy put through one of the
strangest examinations that ever bothered the




256


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


head of a Thespian aspirant. His store of passages from Shakspeare, including all the tragedies, his Norval, his Sir Giles Overreach, and his
Sir Edward Mortimer, were each listened to,
and, with most serious countenance, commented upon. Sol, the president, listened and looked with absorbing intensity, and his long face
remained immovable as marble. We don't mean
DAN Marble, for he snorted right out, and was
forthwith expelled. When we heard Dan's Yankee 'he-ah! he-ah!' as he retreated down the
stairs, it was with difficulty any of us could keep
a straight face.
"After Dan's exit, Sol put the policeman
through a series of attitudes, during which a
very lively discussion was going on as to the
correctness of them. The self-satisfied candidate was placed in an advancing posture, with
one arm extended, his head fixed in a most unnatural position one side, his eyebrows brought
down in a most terrible frown, his mouth twisted into a scathing sneer, while his breast was
kept heaving with supposed passion; and from
this he was transposed to an attitude of supplication. This was the most ludicrous of all
the efforts made in the examining chamber.
The attempt of our victim to look imploring
was very much like the expression a human being would put on if receiving some violent assault in the rear. His eyes rolled upward, his
mouth open, and his face curled like a bad boy's
about to receive a licking, was a picture of comic anguish.
" Sol now proposed that we should retire to
the stage for the final ceremony, where the candidate was expected to go through a course of
motions in costume, which costume was tin
armor! Being duly incased therein, he was
again put through a series of armed positions;
now with the spear, again With the battle-axe,
and then with sword and shield. To familiarize him with the stage, and make him capable
of finding his adversary or his mistress upon it
when darkened, the visor of his helmet was
closed, and over its bars a piece of leather was
fastened, which completely blindfolded our candidate. In this fix he was rushed about the
stage: now charging here, again cautiously
stealing along there; again going through a
warrior's dying scene, in which he is feeling
about for the foe, who has stabbed him in the
dark; and then he would be sent to delivering a
burst of passion from Romeo and Juliet.
" The final trial was proposed by Sol, after he
had expressed commendation on those past. It
was represented to the candidate that rushing
off the scene properly was a great feature of
tragedy, and (like all aspirants), as he desired
more particularly to make that his line of business, it was necessary that he should learn to
rush off. It was farther represented to him
that, carried away by the excitement of the
piece, he was liable to run against the scenery,
and mar the effectiveness of an entire scene just
at what should be its triumphant close, and
therefore the profession had adopted the practice of learning to rush off blindfolded, as then,
no matter what the actor's state of excitement
might be, he being practiced, could without dif

ficulty avoid the scenery. This being fully understood by the novice, he was placed in his
position, his visor was closed, and he was then
told to take a Richard the Third attitude, as if
charging upon Richmond's forces; and Sol, taking position, gave the signal:
"' Upon 'em-charge!'
"The candidate rushed forward, a ring like a
tin pan concussion followed, and the next moment the man in armor recoiled from the sidescenes, and fell sprawling on his nether extremity about the centre of the stage. His first desire was to see what he had encountered; but
the force of the collision having driven the rim
of the tin helmet over his ears, he was, like the
dog with his head in the pitcher of milk, imprisoned. The member who held the upright
board in the entrance between the scenes, which
the policeman rushed headforemost against, laying it quietly down, with the rest of us exhibited
commendable zeal in trying to release the candidate from his vile durance. After the practical jokes he had submitted to, it may be guessed
that he had a pair of EARS it was not easy to release! We effected it, however, and, having relieved him from his armor, we conducted him
up to the room where he was first introduced,
and here the manager, Sol. Smith, Esq., addressed
him in very flattering terms, commented on his
correct reading of many passages, and advised a
farther study of the rushing-off movement.
" Sol then called upon the justice to say a few
words to the aspirant. The latter, who had not
seen the 'board' part of the above-mentioned
scene because of his position on the stage, and
who believed the whole affair to be a serious
preparatory lesson to fit the would-be actor for
the profession, delivered a most incoherent echo
of the manager's speech, mingled with expressions such as 'great Bard of Avon,' 'immortal
Shakspeare,' 'great responsibility resting upon
those who choose the great profession of being
the great chroniclers of the time,' etc. In short,
it was a GOOD speech for a brief one.
"The candidate was now allowed to depart,
and Sol commenced enacting the last scene of
our comedy. Taking from an antique trunk in
his room an old three-cornered stage hat, he presented it to the magistrate as an acknowledgment of the high estimation in which the ])ramatic Board held his literary critical ability.
The said venerable old tile was represented to
be the last one that ever the patriot and sage,
Dr. Franklin, wore. The literary justice, in a
perfect paroxysm of pleasure, pressed the black
cockade upon this relic to his bosom, declared
it the happiest day of his life, and vowed that
his posterity should preserve it to 'the last syllable of recorded time.'
" The board now adjourned, but we are under
the impression that both candidate and the justice are ignorant to this moment of the fact that
all stage-struck heroes who came before our association had to butt the ' dramatic board' which
stood between the scenes. The last time we
saw Manager Sol, he was sitting in his office at
the St. Charles Theatre, complacently listening
to a Spaniard reading a blank-verse poem, written in English by himself, which the Castilian




SCENE FROM AN UNACTED DRAMA.


257


was reciting in the worst English we have ever
heard."
New plays submitted to the management of
course received due attention, but I must say
that " very few and far between" were the instances of acceptance. Generally the veriest
trash constituted the staple offered, and this
trash was referred to the committee.
I give here the title, dramatis personce, and
one scene-and that's enough-of a play written
by one Mr. Davis, of Mobile, who waited eight
years for a report from the committee, and then
was allowed, on giving bonds, to take a copy of
it for transmission to the Theatre Royal, Drury
Lane, where he felt quite sure it would be accepted and played at once:
THE COTAGER'S GRANDSON,
OR THE
MTRDERD BRIJTHER
AND
GOST OF THE MURDERD COUNTISS.
A Orijenel Dramy in three Acts.
(COPPY WRIGHT SKURED.)
-NAMES OF CARIOTERS.
Count Elmore, disguised as a Rober.
Count Askins, a Yusurper.
Williamson & Harrison, the Count's Confidence.
Cotager.
Thomas, supposed to be the Cotager's Son.
Duncan, a fisherman.
Jaquise, a Rober.
Grome.
Gost.
Jane, the Cotager's Wife.
Lucy, the dames dotter.
The bride.
Solgers & servants by Supernumeraries and Knumerus Oxhilliraries.
ACT THIRD-SCENE FIRST.
[A Room and A Castle. Count Askins sitting at a table and reading a Book.]
Count Askins raising from his seat and laing
a book on a table, Who with in there (enters
servant) My lord did you call Yes is Williamson returned yet servant speaking no my lord
not yet should any strangers come show them
up begone Sir (exhert servant) Count geting
up and walking the floor it is it must be and it
shall be this must go in force raising his hand
nocking on the table it must be and shall be
this boy once in my power then all will be saved
it must be the boy and he must die villan as I
am my villany must not stop here the boy that I
saw at the cottage before a nother day must be
in my power then powers I defy the and all the
can do villan I am and villan I will be until I
am satisfied (the doors opens carefully) Enters
the Gost a dagger in his right hand with the four
finger of the left hand pointing to her bleding
stab in her side noble count thou art not satisfied with murdering she that harmed the not but
R


now thee seaks to the life him thou noist not.
Noble Count night time is short the count foiling on his knees and clasping his hand together
most noble and ginerous specter what thou
wants what is it that I shall do name it were it
in the power of man it shall be done then my requist this you you shall give over they plaus with
glaturing they vangence with innocente bloud
count speaking thy requist will be as thou
wishes it but leve me Gost speaking Rise then
tyrant Count raising Gost before forty - eight
hours thou shalt be as I am moldering in the
dust Count agitated thou saidst I shall die. Gost
speaking Yes thou shalt die by the hand of him
thou triest to murder he shall revenge his murdered mother No Count Call for they redemer
for murcey time is short for he is the only one
that can give murcey on the farewell we mete
again not in this world but before the Juge of
all Juges on hight so farewell repent for they
time is short, farewell (exhert Gost) Count agitated 0 havens that I had not been born to come
to this. Exiert Count Sloe moosick.
In the summer of 1841, which was an extremely dull one in our business, among the numerous candidates for theatrical honors, wishing
to learn the " trade, art, and mystery" of acting,
came one morning a weak, trembling, peakednosed individual, who looked as though a tolerable breeze would blow him to pieces. With a
hesitating, tender voice, he asked to see the "boss
of the show." I instantly discovered a "subject" for the committee, and asked him, in a loud
voice, his name.
"Macumber - Jeemes Macumber," he answered, his knees fairly knocking together when
he discovered who it was that addressed him.
" What canst thou do?" I inquired.
After a moment's hesitation, and making two
or three vain attempts to swallow something, he
gasped twice, and got out this answer: " I can
speak orations, and I think I could learn to act
out plays in a short time."
" Speak orations? What orations canst thou
speak?"
"Mark Antorf's, John Quincy Adams's
Fourth of July, Hannibal's Address to his Army,
Patrick Henry's Give me Liberty or Give me
Death, Clay's speech on the Declaration of War,
Washington's Farewell, Webster's Union Speech,
Hayne's-"
" Stop!" I cried; "enough-more than enough.
And you wish to speak these orations on the
stage?"
" Ye-es," he answered; " I am told that I can
make heaps of money by speaking 'em."
" Are you aware, Mr. Macumber, that before
being allowed to step upon the sacred precincts
of the stage, you will be obliged to undergo an
examination, and be put through certain cere



258


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


monies by a committee?" This question I asked
in a very solemn manner, of course, and his answer was equally solemn. With tears in his
eyes, he answered,
" I-I don't mind, I don't, what ceremonies I
go through; I am ready and willin'."
" Very well," I said. "' Now take off your hat
and kneel down." And down he went upon his
marrow-bones, hat in hand, without the least
hesitation. I then administered a solemn obligation to the candidate, which bound him by the
shade of Shakspeare, the memory of Ben Jonson, and his sacred honor, not to reveal any thing
which should transpire during his initiation into
the mysteries of the drama. [The Sons of Malta,
Know-Nothings, Druids, Mormons, Sons of Temperance, all, I suppose, founded upon the ceremonies of this committee, can form a tolerable
idea of the " obligation," without a reprint of the
same-they are all pretty nearly alike.] Macumber subscribed cheerfully to every thing, kissed
the hilt of the Maltese sword held out to him,
and, on a signal given, rose to his feet.
"Having taken the preliminary obligation,
Jeemes, you will go to your place of sojourn and
refresh your memory by reading over the Fourth
of July Address of Adams, the younger of that
name; refresh your body by sleep, and to-morrow morning, as the Cathedral clock strikes the
hour of nine, you will present yourself at the
second vestibule door, counting from the south,
of this edifice, where you will be received by the
committee. Now, Jeemes, begone!"
And he was gone-off like a flash.
It was a little doubtful in my mind whether he
would return or not. However, as there were
several other candidates waiting a hearing, an
order was issued through the " Reveille" for an
assemblage of the committee the next morning
at a quarter before nine. As I passed into the
theatre just before the appointed time, I saw our
man standing at the door designated. Quickly
informing the committee of #hat was the order
of the day, all was soon ready for the reception.
The Cathedral clock* began to strike, and between the fourth and fifth strokes the door was
suddenly opened, the candidate seized by the
sergeant-at-arms, drawn quickly within the vestibule, blindfolded, and-  *  *  *
The reader will not expect a full account of
the "secret ceremonies" which followed. It is
sufficient to be informed that Macumber demeaned himself most manfully, and that the trapdoors, pulleys, and travelers worked well; the
thunder, lightning, rain, and blue-lights were all
in fine order. The candidate was dismissed at a
little after 10 o'clock, with directions to present


himself the next morning at the same time and
place, which directions he scrupulously obeyed.
After three courses of training, he was pronounced ready and capable of appearing before
the public. This was an entirely new course of
policy, adopted by the committee in consideration of the great merits of the candidate, the almost intolerable warmth of the weather, and the
"beggarly account of empty boxes" nightly exhibited at the theatre.
The first appearance of Macumber was duly
heralded by the press (nearly all the editors being
members of the committee), and the Fourth of
July Oration of Adams chosen for the occasion.
Proper scenery and costumes were selected, and,
at the appointed time, Macumber, strictly guarded by the sergeant-at-arms, was stationed back
of a cave flat, which, at a given signal, opened,
and the debutant appeared bodily in the presence
of the audience, with a bound, amid tremendous flashes of lightning, the flat instantly closing behind him-and such an appearance as he
made! Dressed in a suit of regimentals "a
world too wide," and considerably too long for
him, after the manner of Col. Pluck or Bombastes Furioso, flourishing a sabre as long as himself, Macumber stood in an attitude of stern defiance (according to instructions) until the awful
yells and shouts which greeted him had in some
degree subsided; then, sheathing his sword with
a clang, he strutted to the front, made three
bows or salaams in the Turkish fashion, gave a
stamp with his right foot, and proceeded with
the oration, every word of which he spoke, to the
very last line, receiving abundance of applause
during its delivery from the committee-men stationed in front, as well as from the general audience, all seeming, after a little while, to enter
into the "fun of the thing." At the conclusion
of the speech, according to orders, the orator
placed himself upon a certain place previously
chalked out for him, drew his immense sword,
and, poising it in the way of a salute, was let
down through a trap, and so disappeared, a sudden flash of lightning flaming up through the
opening in the stage. Cries of " encore!" were
now heard from all parts of the house, mixed
with cries of "Macumber! Macumber!" The
will of the public evidently was that the orator
should come forward and receive its congratulations on his decided success. This call not having been anticipated-calls were not so common
then as they are now-no provision had been
made for getting him out of the cellar except by
means of the very trap which let him down; so
an order was hastily transmitted through the
speaking-trumpet to place him upon the trap,




FARTHER PROCEEDINGS OF THE COMMITTEE.


259


and to caution him to hold himself firm and
steady. All being ready, the signal was given
for the trap to rise quickly, when Macumber was
projected through the stage and shot up into the
air at least two yards! The brave fellow, however, lit upon his feet, and resumed that same
defiant attitude, with sword drawn, which had
brought down such bursts of applause on his appearance through the flats. After stamping two
or three times, and bowing low to the audience,
he took his stand upon the chalked square, and
was again lowered out of sight.
The newspapers next day teemed with the success achieved by the new-comer, and soon the
Eastern papers took up the strain, remarking
that " a new tragedian was making a great sensation at St. Louis."
The next effort of Macumber was in "Hannibal's Address to his Army." His appearance
this time was in what is called a boat carriagea board on small wheels, to which the profile of
a boat is usually fastened, run upon the floor, but
concealed from the audience by a ground or
water piece, giving the boat an appearance of
gliding through the water. Standing upon this
board, the orator was drawn on, appearing to
slide or skate along upon the painted water.
When in the centre of the stage he jumped out,
and, after going through the defiant attitude and
requisite number of stamps, proceeded with his
oration, which was received by a larger audience
than the one of the night before, and with equal
enthusiasm. At the conclusion, instead of going
down a trap, he was taken up in the car which is
used in MACBETH for carrying up Mrs. Hecate;
* and so on through the week, until all the orations in the programme had been spoken by the
bold Macumber, changing nightly the manner
of his entrance and exit, and also, after his second night, his costume. An account of the
week's proceedings would be tedious; enough
has been told to convince the reader that we had
a good deal of amusement, and, perhaps, that we
carried the joke too far, especially in permitting
the candidate to go before the public. I think it
was a strong draw upon the good-nature of our
audiences; but it was such a dull time, something had to be done to wake up the people, and
our committee-men felt justified in treating themselves to a hearty laugh, even at the expense of
strict dramatic propriety-and they did, at the
same time permitting (for once) all outside jokers
to participate.
After his performance each night, we seated
Macumber in one of the private boxes, where,
surrounded by guards, he received deputations
from outside committee-men. One night I re

member a visit he received from the venerable
Charles Keemle, who, together with another
equally worthy citizen (a great proficient in setback euchre), and ten others, representing themselves to be the mayor and aldermen of the city,
presented a petition, which was immediately
granted, that the Fourth of July should be postponed a week or two, in consequence of the inclemency of te weather!
At the end of the week a warrant was made
out in due form for the sum of twelve dollars,
and Macumber (always accompanied by the sergeant-at-arms) was told to present it for payment to the lord high treasurer, whom he would
know by his being the ugliest man he should
find in the room where he was to be conducted. It happened the whole company, orchestra and all, were engaged in the greenroom,
rehearsing the burlesque opera of DON GioVANNI. Macumber, on looking round when the
bandage was removed from his eyes, without the
least hesitation kneeled down and presented the
warrant to my old leader, Carl Mueller, who solemnly paid him the money in currency. Mac
was again blindfolded and conducted to the committee-room, where, another obligation of secrecy
being administered, he was dismissed. I have
not heard of or from him since. The person
who so efficiently performed the arduous duties
of sergeant-at-arms during the Macumber engagement was "Tom, the Curtain Man," of
whom mention is made in another portion of
this volume. By the way, I haven't seen Tom
for several years.
During the season of 1844, in Cincinnati, the
committee had considerable business on hand.
A member of the medical profession was stagestruck, and applied for an opportunity to appear
as Hamlet. Being referred to the committee,
he had a private hearing one afternoon, old Logan, Falvy Williams, and myself constituting a
quorum on that occasion. In the ghost scene
the candidate (as Hamlet) was instructed in the
" start" for at least an hour, the various committee-men acting alternately as the ghost. In the
play scene the candidate was advised to sing a
portion of the text, referring to Hamlet's mention of the "pious chanson." He went through
to the end, but we could see that about the time
he exclaimed
"A rat! Dead for a ducat!"
he began to smell one. The sitting was closed,
and the candidate dismissed with the usual obligations of secrecy; but we all felt we had not
done with that chap, and, sure enough, in an
hour or two the following letter was handed in:




260


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


" Cincinnati, 21 June.
"MR. SOL. SMITH: SIR,- Agreeable to appointment, I met with pleasure your honorable
Committee, but must confess (and not without
shame) I retired with perfect disgust and amediately resolved on giving you amediate notice
as to my utter contempt of such treatment and
henceforth tak no further notice of the matter.
I am somewhat suprised that your power of conception would have suffered you to make sutch
a pitiful attempt to make a wantdo of one who
had imposed uter confidece in you.
"You and your Committee did not exhibit
quite skill enough to surpress my disagreable
aprehensions-as swearing in one of your hon.
body at the out side the door-' knoted and combined locks'-noted down by the chairman of
the Committee-opinions as the complixion of
the Germans & Danes with french pronunciation
-pious chasaw!-by Mr. W-   new and wonderful afect produced by singing certain poetry
unanimously concured in-bah-booh-skatperfect failure gent.
"Sol you enforced secrecy upon me in this
mater-I have and will observe to the letterwhile the efect produced by a failure mining all
all within infects unseen.
"J. E.-The Committee who as you say are
sworn to secrecy therefore I need not fear their
ill report els I should prefer a bad epitaph.
"Your -     Dupe,        HAMLET.
"N.B.-Any response to this through the P.
Office shall be cheerfuly & confidentialy regarded.                             H.
"' Why have you used me thus, I loved you ever.'
"-Shaks."
ANSWER.
"Committee-room, Cincinnati Theatre,)
"June 22,1844.      )
"DEAR SIR,-Your note of yesterday is received, and we hasten to say that your determination to 'go no farther' is unanimously approved of by the committee.
"The proceedings of yesterday were such as
are usual on such occasions, and you certainly
passed through the ordeal with considerable
credit to yourself. It is but justice to say that,
notwithstanding the disadvantage of a CHANGE
OF GHOSTS, we have never seen a novice acquit
himself so well as you did.
"We must insist that we did no more than
our duty in giving you the proper pronunciation
of the FRENCH WORDS; and our 'failure' to give
the 'original music' of the 'pious chanson'
must be attributed to the fact that the members
of the committee do not profess or possess very
splendid vocal powers.
"We close this reply to your note by copying
a resolution adopted unanimously by the committee:
" 'Resolved, That the injunction of secrecy on
the proceedings of Friday, June 21, be made PERPETUAL, and the candidate for histrionic honors
be congratulated upon his fortunate escape.'
"Wishing you every success, in whatever profession you may think proper to adopt,
"We remain yours very truly,
"THE COMMITTEE."


So far as I know, we, in this instance, effected
a perfect cure.
At a sitting in New Orleans, we were "putting
through" a candidate in RICHARD THE THIRD,
when, just as he started from his couch in the
last scene, exclaiming
"Give me another horse," etc.,
a little fiste of a dog flew at him, and, seizing on
the seat of his trowsers, hung there until taken
off by his master, who was acting at the time as
sergeant-at-arms. Of course the would-be tragedian was required to try the scene over again
and again, but every time that confounded dog
would get loose and attack him in the rear! I
have no doubt he had been trained to it. At
least six times he went to sleep, and old Jack
Greene, as the ghost of Henry VI., with a segar
in his nouth, repeated the line,
"Wake, Richard, awake! to guilty minds a terrible
example!"
and Richard every time bounded from his couch,
flourishing his sword, and, staggering toward the
foot-lights, exclaimed,
"Give me another horse! Bind up my wounds-here's
that d-d dog again; CAN'T he be tied?"
The rehearsal was at last suspended-the dog
couldn't be kept out of the fray.
These few instances of the " proceedings" of
the committee must suffice. There are many
living lay members in St. Louis who have participated in the meetings at the N. W. corner of
Third and Olive Streets, up stairs, and whose
sides must occasionally shake while recalling the
ludicrous scenes enacted, where the collector of
customs now so seriously carries on the business
of the general government.
I close this very "loose" report of the proceedings of the " Committee on Authors and Actors"
by giving a " pome" which I considered too good
to be inserted under the proper date (1837) with
the other "Rejected Addresses," written in competition for the prize of $100 offered for the best
poetic address, to be spoken at the opening of
the New St. Louis Theatre. I give it exactly as
written.
ADDRESS TO THE NEW ST. LOUIS THEATREON THE POWER OF EDUCATION.
BY JOHN S. H —, HOWARD COUNTY, MO.
[Respectfully referred by the Committee of Literary Gentlemen to the
Committee on Authors and Amateurs.]
0, what a dark, and direful scene, bruded o'er
the world!                    [furledl:
Before the glorious light of Education was unAnd diffused with splendour, its golden ray;
With grandeur; converting night to peaceful day.




AN EXTRA REJECTED ADDRESS.


261


Which erected on the bosom of chaos a light,
Which contributes to man, a store of sublime delight:
Has untwined the fetters in which he was bound:
And scattered the clouds of ignorance, that hung
around.              [on every virtue,
Ignorance joined with her sister vice; frowned
And on sweet innocence, her imperious falchion
drew.                          [act,
Which distressfully imprisoned every virtuous
And made the world, with envy and vice compact.
But now, 0! now! print the boon of Heaven
is diffused;               [perused;
And knowledge by Peasants, as well as Princes
The hills rejoice, the plains proclaim peace,
The reign of ignorance, bigotry, and superstition
cease.                      [aside,
All nations, have those rude obstacles thrown
Which, with their intelligence had so long vied:
Ere (Education,) the great fountain of light ushered on,
Ere virtue, her moral, hallowed precepts won.
The prize,* so long fought for, out of peril)
has arose,                [repose,
And on the bosom, of fair Columbia shall ever
Until the last trump, the catastrophe of time
shall propose.                   J
This land, fair Columbia's pleasant plains,
Was beat beat by great solitude's awful rains:
And where freedom's pallace, now arises above
ire,                          [tire:
Unaccompanied with disgrace, robed in holy atWas a barren wilderness, in space unexplored;
Before the sublime art (education,) upon us
poured,
Its briliant ray, the dawn of purity and light;
Which snaches from the hand of ignorance, all
might.                    [the mind,
No more shall the blubbers of ignorance choke
Nor blindness, nor sorrows, veil the sight of mankind;                         [free,
Come bounteous era! when mankind shall all be
And march to the Altar of union and liberty;
See the Ark of ignorance, and slavery scud away.
Behold the Squadron of right, and justice, arives
to-day.
Through the veil of ignorance to smell the]
flower,                   [power; I
That now smiles on the summet of fame and
That now gilds, and decks liberties lofty tower. J
Not by gems of silver, and gold, we were]
brought                  [wrought,
For dignity, and eminence education has j
And by education, philosophy we are taught. J
Yes, education more valuable than rubies, far,
A pharos to our feet; to our minds a gilding star.
* Aluding to education.


Through boundless space we measure the commets flight,
We see the Sun in his glory, the centre of might.
The moons silver orb; that gilds the horrors of
night,
That spreads her twinkling beams So bright,
And in kind peace, enlightens this vast globe,
With beauty; and wraps it in one magnificent
robe,
And Mercury's, heated, fervent, burning sphere
Too with Jubiter, and Saturn, on vast regions
there,                  [petual blaze,
Mighty moons in splendour roll, and shed perWhich shines to their great Author's name, eternal praise;                 [ly spied,
Are by the great tube, (Education,) completeNor can one celestial form, from, the eye of the
philosopher hide.
By that heavenly boon, the gift of Education,
We can fly through all ages, in the creation,
Live the lives of all antiquity; see Adam live;
See Socrates, and Plato, to youth advice give,
The siege of Troy, and Jerusalem is exposed to
our view,                       [too.
The sentiments of Uclid, and Newton are ours
Misteries are unfurled, (that bane,) ignorance
is sold,
For value, purer than gems of silver or gold;
Wisdom established in its stead, more radiant it
shines,                      [mines.
Than the Diamonds ray, glitring in Golconda's
St. John the Baptist.
In 1843 or 1844 an Englishman died in St.
Louis. When the effects of the deceased were
looked into by the public administrator, there
was found in the false bottom of one of his
trunks an old picture, carefully rolled up, of ST.
JOHN THE BAPTIST and the PASCHAL LAMBJohn holding a staff, in which was fastened a
scroll bearing these words: " Ecce Agnus Deo"
(Behold the Lamb of God). This picture was
purchased at the administrator's sale by a Dr.
Edgerly (now deceased), and from him purchased by me for the sum of fifty dollars. The
truth of the matter was, I thought that picture
of St. John might be an "original" by one of
the old masters, it looked so old and dim, and,
if so, would be worth several thousands of dollars, if not pounds to me, which suppositious
dollars or pounds I stood very much in need of
at the time; and my hopes were founded in
part upon the following occurrence, which took
place in St. Louis the year before my coming into
possession of St. John:
At the corner of Second and Pine Street there




262


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


was on exhibition and sale a very fine collection of pictures. Some were purchased by such
of our citizens as had any taste in, and appreciation of the Fine Arts; but the sales were few
and far between. One morning an Englishman
entered the room where the pictures were hanging, and, after carefully examining the collection, opened a business conversation with the
proprietor-asked him several questions as to
where he had picked up the various paintings,
and the prices at which he held them. In the
course of an hour the Englishman had selected
six or eight of the pictures, and agreed on the
price of each, the whole amounting to about two
hundred dollars. "Make out your bill," said
the stranger. The bill was made out and paid.
"Where will you have them sent?" asked the
picture-dealer.
"Don't send them any where at present," replied the purchaser. " When I want them I will
call for them;" and he stepped toward the door
as if going. "By-the-by," said he, returning,
" this one," pointing carelessly to one of his purchases-a small, ordinary-looking picture without a frame, which he had previously carefully
examined, back and front-" this one, if you
will please to hand it down to me, I will take
with me, in my hand, to the hotel."
The picture was handed down, and the purchaser took it in his hand, which was observed
to tremble a little as he received it, and his face
grew suddenly pale. "What is the matter?"
asked the picture-dealer; " are you not well?"
" Never better in my life," replied the stranger, accepting the chair and glass of water offered him by the kind picture-dealer. "Never
better-never better," continued the stranger.
"' This is my picture now, is it not? I have purchased it and paid for it, I think." " Most decidedly you have," responded the other; "you
paid me twenty-five dollars for it; it is well
worth it, I think."  "I think so too; it is a
bargain which I am well satisfied with," said the
purchaser. "I hope, sir, you are also satisfied
with your other purchases," quoth the seller of
pictures.
" Yes," replied the pale Englishman-" well
satisfied with my whole morning's work. Listen: All the pictures I have purchased from you,
except this which I hold in my hand, I make
you a present of; I don't want them. They are
yours as a free gift. This, and this only, I keep,
and start with it to-morrow for England. I
have been in search of this little picture for four
years. I traced it to Spain, Portugal, South
America, Mexico, and the United States, and
have at last found it and purchased it here in St.


Louis."  " What! that little picture?"  "Yes,
this little picture; it is an ' original,' by Rubens,
and I am to receive for it in England, by contract, ~4000, besides my expenses during the
four years I have been hunting it up!"
"Well," thought I, after hearing this strange
story, "if that little picture, which sold for
twenty-five dollars, was worth ~4000 ($20,000),
who knows but this St. John, which cost me $50,
may be worth ~8000?" At all events, I determined to find out what it was worth, and to do
that it was necessary to send it to Italy, where
there are records by which such questions can
be decided. So, bethinking me of the friend of
my boyhood, HIRAM POWERS, the great sculptor, I packed up my St. John and sent it to that
gentleman at Florence, requesting him to ascertain, first, whether it was an "original," and by
one of the "great masters;" secondly, if it was
one of those immensely valuable works of art, to
sell it at what it would bring-but not less than
$20,000; and, thirdly, to remit the proceeds,
after paying charges, to me in New Orleans,
where I had debts which that sum would about
wipe out.
In due time my St. John arrived at Florence,
and my old friend promptly replied to me that
-it was not an "original"-not by any "old
master," nor by any known young master; in
fact, it was a very ordinary picture, which wanted
cleaning acnd renovating, and then might possibly
be sold for twenty or thirty dollars! He also
said, if I wanted it cleaned and renovated, I
might send ten dollars to our mutual friend
Mr. Nicholas Longworth, of Cincinnati, and he
(Powers) would have the work done, and hold
my St. John subject to my order.
Of course my hopes of a fortune from St. John
were at an end; but believing in my heart it was
a pretty good picture, notwithstanding its finding no place in the "records" of Florence, I
wrote my early friend to have my St. John
cleaned up, and to hold on to it until I should
send or call for it. I sent the ten dollars to Mr.
Longworth, and received the following reply:
Nicholas Longworth to Sol. Smith.
" Cincinnati, Nov. 17,1845.
"DEAR SIR,-Your letter, inclosing one from
our friend Powers, and ten dollars on his account, was duly received. The ten dollars I will
hand over to his brother. As you are in the
picture line, you should visit New York during
the winter season. So little taste is there, in
that city of low path streets, for the arts, that
you may weekly buy pictures of all the great
ancient painters, at public auction, at from fifty
cents to ten dollars; and many of them so dimmed by age as to be invaluable. I shall be pleased
to see you when next in Porkopolis. When




A SEARCH AFTER ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST.


263


I last saw you, dyspepsia had deprived me of all
my faculties but memory. Of what then passed
I retain a perfect recollection. With regard,
yours,                  N. LONGWORTH."
Time passed, and I supposed my saint was
quietly reposing-he and the lamb, and staff,
and scroll-in the warehouse of the great American sculptor. My debts were paid, and I didn't
care so much about the $20,000 which I didn't
get from Italy, but I always felt a desire to get
my St. John back again. I wanted it.
In 1859 I wrote my friend Hiram that I was
going to London, and requested him to send my
St. John to me there, naming a certain address.
I went to London, but St. John didn't meet me,
nor did I get an answer to my letter-it had miscarried, I thought. On my return home I wrote
again, for my St. John I was determined to have.
In the spring of 1860 an answer came from my
old friend, which-but read it. It is in the
Quaker style:
Hiram Powers to Sol. Smith.
"SOLOMON,-Thou hast written to me two
letters which I have not answered. I did, indeed, attempt an answer to the first, but it
proved only a flash in the pan.
" Thou hast asked me in regard to thy picture
of ' St. John and the Lamb.' Thou hast forgotten some things in relation to it. I told thee
that thy picture was worthless, that thou hadst
been deceived in it, but that I would send it
back to thee, if desired.
"I have thy answer somewhere among my
old papers, in which thou sayest that thou hast
paid $10 (ten dollars) to our old friend Mr. Longworth to my account, but not, as thou now supposest, for 'cleaning and repairing,' but to reimburse me for the freight and other expenses
on it to Florence, all of which I had paid. Thou
saidst likewise that I need not send the picture
back, but might do what I liked with it-so my
memory serves me. The picture lay in one of
my rooms for several years, when an officer of
our navy happened to see it, and I told him the
story of it.
" 'I know Old Sol,' said he, 'and if you will
let me have it, I will take it to St. Louis when I
go home, and he shall be surprised with it.'
"I said, 'Take it,' and he cut it out of the
stretcher, rolled it up, and that was the last I
ever heard or saw of thy picture. I can not
now recall the name of the officer, but remember that he was from St. Louis.
"Had it entered my head to suppose.that
thou wouldst ever require the picture back after
so long a silence about it, and after telling me
to do as I liked with it, or words to that effect,
I should have preserved it with care.
" I read your melancholy history of poor
Lemuel's death with great inteost. The sad
story was well told.
"I have just received the cards of Mrs. J. M.
Field and Miss Kate Field, and shall call upon
them as soon as possible.


"With many kind remembrances, I am truly
your old friend,         HIRAM POWERS.
"Florence, March 5, 1860."
There is the letter. My recollection and that
of my friend do not exactly agree, and I dare
say his is better than mine; but-ha! I got
from this letter a clew by which I might get
back my St. John, "worthless" though it may
have been considered at Florence. An officer
of the United States Navy had taken it, under a
promise of surprising me by the delivery of it -to
me. Hiram didn't recollect the name of the
officer, but he was "from St. Louis," he " knew
Old Sol," and he was doubtless waiting the opportunity of " surprising" me by handing over
the (to me) precious picture. I knew of but
four officers of the Navy who hailed from St.
Louis, to wit: Bent, Radford, Smith, and
M'Gunnigle. I was bent on having the lost
treasure, so I began my search by writing to
Officer Bent as follows:
Sol. Smith to Silas Bent, U.S.N.
St. Louis, Mo., March 29,1860.
Silas Bent, U.S.N.:
DEAR SIR,-" You see before you a man"
who has lost a treasure which he hopes to recover through you. I must trouble you with a
brief history.
In 1844 (no matter how) I became possessed
of an old picture-so old that I thought and
hoped it might be an "original" of one of the
oldest masters-'representing St. John the Baptist and the Paschal Lamb. In 1845 I sent it
to my friend Hiram Powers, the eminent sculptor, at Florence, Italy, with the request that he
would ascertain if my hopes were well founded,
and, if so, sell it, and remit me the proceeds, be
they $20,000, or $50,000, or any intermediate
sum, as the case might be, and if found to be
only a copy, or by a young master, to let me
know. My friend wrote me on receiving the
picture, and after a careful examination of records, that my St. John was not worth much;
that he would, however, if I desired it, have it
cleaned and renovated, at a cost of about ten
dollars American money, which amount I could
hand to our mutual friend Longworth, of Cincinnati. I wrote to my friend at Florence desiring him to have the cleaning and renovating
done, and then to do what he liked with it, or
whatever seemed best for my interest, but if he
didn't sell it at some price, to hold on to it till
sent or called for. In the spring of 1859 I wrote
him to have my St. John packed in a box and
sent to me in London, where I expected to be
early in June. No St. John came to London,
though I gave my address plainly. Soon after




264


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


my return home, I wrote again to my friend at waded and swam across the ford of Bethabara
Florence about my St. John picture, for I want- expressly to get upon his tracks. The refreshed it, and was determined to have it, if possi ing sensations I experienced from that matutinal bath were in a great measure owing, no
ble. The answer came to the effect that an doubt, to the holy influence thrown by him
officer of the United States Navy, on seeing the around that spot some nineteen hundred years
picture in question, and learning the story of it, ago.
said he knew Old Sol, and would surprise him by  " Subsequently, on my return to Italy, I callde    n     o   m a. Lou is  e hi       ed upon your 'old friend, Hiram Powers, the
delivering it to him at St. Louis when he went eminent sculptor, at Florence,' gave him my
home, if Mr. P. would let him take it. He was card, invited him on board the frigate Wabash,
allowed to take it to surprise me with, but I have and on two several occasions had the pleasure
seen nothing of him or St. John to this day. of seeing not only himself, but his family, on
Mr. Powers in his letter says, " I can not now  board that ship, but he never said ' St. John the
Baptist' nor Mr. Sol. Smith to me 'na'ry-arecall the name of the officer, but remember that time;' and if I said 'surprise' to him, it certainhe was from St. Louis."                     ly was not in connection with either of those
Now, my dear fellow-townsman, you reside in respectable names; and for the verity of which,
St. Louis when you are at home, and I write to I am sure your old friend Hiram will readily
ask if you are the officer who so kindly under- vouch.
"This was in 1859. I was in Italy also in 1851,
took to surprise me with my St. John? Know- and, like every 'true American,' called at the
ing you are a great lover of the fine arts, and I atelier of Mr. Powers, ' the eminent sculptor, at
have a fine collection of your own, I am tempted Florence,' but he was equally silent then as
to believe you saw at a glance the beauties of my upon the more recent occasion in regard to your
o  e yu sw at a g e te b ties o M  'St. John the Baptist,' which you 'want' so
St. John (which the Florentines had failed to badly.
discover), and determined to restore that gem of  " Therefore, my dear sir, you will have to look
art to its rightful owner, but have been prevent- elsewhere for your lost ' St. John the Baptist.'
ed carrying out your benevolent intentions by Perhaps he took to the wilderness again after
the exigencies of the service, which may not friendHiramhadhim irenovated?' Butincase
have allowed you to visit your home (perhaps  you should be denied the ' surprise' which his
unexpected advent would occasion you, I am
since your return from Italy, and (if I am right rejoiced to inform you that I shall shortly rein my hopes and expectations) you design to ceive a large lot of paintings from Italy, and
" surprise" me by a personal visit to my house, think it not at all unlikely that there may be
when you intend to hold out the aforesaid to my another ' St. John the Baptist' among them, and
g   g   ashall be glad to comfort you by letting you see
delighted gaze, and exclaim, "Here, Old Sol, is it-as soon as I can afford to buy a house to
your St. John!"                            hang it in-if the enterprising and obliging inI can only say I am anxious, willing, and wait- dividual who took charge of yours from the coning to be " surprised" in that way. I want to be fiding hands of your ' old friend Hiram' should, a, 1       y           * T I    f Y   never turn up, and you will keep me posted as
surprised, and, if you can not do it, I beg of you to your whereabouts.
to put me on the track of the officer of the Navy  "I know of no officers of the Navy who reside
who can. Awaiting your answer, I am very in St. Louis, for our good old Uncle Samuel is
truly yours,                  SOL. SMITH.   usually so pressing in his solicitations for us to
P. S.-I want my St. John!                 reside at some of his very interesting dock-yards,
or to extend our travels to foreign parts in some
In due course of mail came the following an- of his floating fortresses, that it is rarely the
swer from Mr. Bent, who, it will be seen, enter- case that officers can find the heart to refuse;,, te                 but the principal of those, beside myself, who
ed into the spirit of the St. John inquiry in a style hail from that sainted city are Commodore Wilafter my own heart:                         liam Smith (can he be of your branch of that
Silas Bent, U. S. N.,to Sol. Smith.   distinguished family?), now in command of the
las Bent, U. S. N., to Sol. Smth.      navy yard at Boston, Commodore William Rad[Address of this letter: "Sol. Smith, Esq., or the man ford, in command of the steamer Dakotah at
who is in search of his St. John the Baptist."]  New York, and Lieutenant William M'Gunni" Washington, D. C., April 4,1860.  gle, at the Naval Academy at Annapolis, Md.
"Sol. Smith, Esq., St. Louis, Mo.:         " With sincere sympathy and respect for your
"DEAR SIR,-Your interesting favor of the grief over your lost ' St. John the Baptist,' I am
29th ult. is just received, and, under less equiv- very truly yours,      SILAS BENT.
ocal circumstances, I should extremely regret  "P.S.-I greatly doubt if any naval officer ever
my inability to give you the 'surprise' you so proposed giving you the 'surprise' you repreanxiously covet by the return to your fond sent, thouglA is not at all unlikely that some
hands of your 'St. John the Baptist.' I have a person repreEnting himself to be such imposed
great veneration for the historical character of upon the confidence of Mr. Powers. If he gave
that worthy man, and not long since traveled all your picture to an officer, he can assuredly furthe way over the 'hard road to Jordan,' and nish you with that officer's name.   S. B.




NEW NAMES FOR OLD FARCES.


265


"P.S. No. 2.-I have never seen your 'St.
John the Baptist,' but 'hope you may get it.'"
The exquisite humor of Mr. Bent's letter almost consoled me for the loss of my St. John.
In conclusion, I regret to say the naval officer
who said he was "from St. Louis" has staid
away "from St. Louis" to this day, so far as I
know, and he has not "surprised" me yet-perhaps never will. My only hope now is that the
publication of this correspondence (certainly not
written for publication) may lead, in some mysterious way, to the restoration (and "no questions asked") of my ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST.
New Names for Old Farces.
Managers of modern times have hit upon a
novel mode of making out their bills, which, in
effect, gives an agreeable variety to the announcements, without in reality making much change
in the performances. Old farces are presented
with new titles, by which very simple means a
half dozen pieces are made to run through a
whole season. For example, the neat little comedy of PERFECTION, has, at a theatre I wot of,
been performed for several seasons, two or three
times a week upon an average, under various
titles, a few of which I give: THE CORK LEG;
THE MAID OF MUNSTER; THE DAUGHTER OF
ERIN; JOHN, REMOVE THE SOFA; THE GENTLEMAN HARD TO PLEASE; ERIN IS MY HOME;
THE PARAGONS, FATHER AND SON; MY CHARMING KATE; THE LADY FROM CORK, etc., etc.
There is another farce (or petit comedy) which
has undergone many mutations on the posters.
Its true title is, or was, THE DUMB BELLE. In
the hands of our modern caterers for the public
amusement, it is now called THE DUMB LADY
CURED; THE BOLD DRAGOON; SHE CAN'T
SPEAK; IRISH BLUNDERS; THE IRISHMAN IN
PETTICOATS; THE LADY IN A DELICATE SITUATION, and many others equally appropriate.
Buckstone's neat little farce of a KIss IN THE
DARK is changed to CURIOSITIES FROM AMERICA, which is a very curious change, and farfetched, I think.
THE LOAN OF A LOVER is changed to BORROWING A BEAX; MR. AND MRS.WHITE to THE
WHITES AND BROWNS; THE ROUGH DIAMOND
to BUTTONS ALL OVER HIM, etc.
It is somewhat remarkable that the changes
of titles are confined to farces. Why not apply
the same system to plays? OTHELLO, for instance, might be announced as THE UNHAPPY
MARRIAGE, or THE DREADFUL EFFECTS OF
AMALGAMATION; HAMLET could be changed to
MY FATHER'S GHOST, or METHINKS I SEE HIM


Now; DAMON AND PYTHIAS would be very attractive, one would think, announced as THE
REVOLUTION AT SYRACUSE, or the GALLANT
GRAY OF ANAXAGORAS. In the comedy line,
many changes could be made to advantage.
THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL should be called
THE SALE OF PICTURES, or MY TWO NEPHEWS;
THE RIVALS would show well on the bills as
THE ABSOLUTE FATHER, or THE ORIGINAL
MRS. PARTINGTON. Many other changes to better titles might be suggested; but our managers
seem pretty well "up" to these things, and require no hints on this subject.
Story of a Head.
It is now nearly forty years since HIRAM POWERS, the great American sculptor-he was not
great then, in an artistical point of view, but he
was good, and to be good is to be great, as I
view greatness-was engaged by Mr. Dorfieulle,
proprietor of a museum in Cincinnati, Ohio, to
mould a set of wax figures, consisting of effigies
of Washington, Franklin, General Jackson, Commodores Bainbridge, Hull, and Perry, the Witch
of Endor, Louis XVI., Charlotte Corday, Marie
Antoinette, Napoleon Bonaparte, several murderers and murderesses, the Babes in the Wood, and
various other celebrities; and to manufacture a
scene representing the INFERNAL REGIONS, Slperintended by old Satan himself, and attended
by all the inferior devils known to heathen mythology; to which was to be added a lake of fire
and brimstone, and all the other accessories
which modern divines (so called) have pictured
as belonging to that dreaded locality. The whole
of this work he accomplished in about a year, or
a little more. The "Regions" had a great run.
Clergymen visited the museum, and testified to
the correctness of the picture; children were
taken to see the awful "show," that they might
know what sort of a place they would " go to" if
they didn't behave themselves; and the people
generally, from all quarters of the great West,
when they visited Cincinnati, considered their
sight-seeing incomplete until they had seen h-1
in Dorfieulle's Museum. I suppose the getting
up of this affair may be considered as the groundwork of Powers's subsequent greatness as an
artist.
But, successful as this work was, his next
achievement was more so, if possible-a HEAD
ofAleck Drake, a popular comedian of that dayin wax. This head, when conjoined to a ragged
suit of stuffed clothes, with a pair of wax hands,
sticking out of the arm-holes of the coat, and
surmounted by a shocking bad hat, and the whole




266


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


placed in position, was a most striking likeness small party of friends were invited one afternoon
of the comedian in the attitude he assumed when to see it in Mr. Powers's studio. Old Fred, with
singing a popular ballad entitled "Love and his face marked to suit the character of Restive,
Sausages." At a short distance from this figure with wig and neckerchief complete, was seated
as it stood, a spectator could scarcely be made to under a high table, through the centre of which
believe it was not the actor himself, instead of protruded his head (the table having been prebeing only his " counterfeit presentment." The pared for the purpose like a pair of stocks), so
correctness of the likeness was proved on the oc- that it appeared to be a head resting on the table.
casion of Aleck's benefit at the theatre, when he From the table to the floor hung a sheet which
engaged the figure "for that night only," and effectually concealed the person of the actor, and
advertised in the bills that he would appear (not a crimson curtain was arranged in front of the
in two parts, but) in two places at one and the head, ready to be drawn aside when all was
same time! At the proper moment the effigy ready. The party being assembled in front of
was placed behind a closed door, and the actor the supposed wax figure, Powers, whispering to
stood in the same attitude behind another door. Henderson to keep a steady face, drew aside the
On a signal given, the two doors were simulta- curtain.
neously opened, and there stood two ragged at-  "Great!" "good!" "exact!" "better than
titudinizers,                               Drake's!" "splendid!" were the first exclama"The one so like the other  tions of the enraptured party, followed by more
As could not be distinguished,"       extended remarks and criticisms. Henderson
until the original walked out of the door and kept his face wonderfully well at first; but when
down to the front of the stage to commence his one of the party remarked, approaching very
song!                                       near him, that the face had not quite color
The grand success of this latter work drew the enough, considering what a hard drinker old
attention of Mr. Nicholas Longworth to the " In- Fred was, he was obliged to give Powers a genfernal Regions," and led to his loaning Hiram  tle kick as a signal to draw the curtain in order
Powers a sufficient sum of money to enable him  that he might indulge in a hearty laugh.. After
to go to Italy and perfect himself in the art of an interval of a few seconds the wax figure was
which he has since become so consummate a again unveiled, and criticisms were freely inmaster.                                     dulged in for some considerable time. At last
In 1830 the proprietor of the museum wished one remarked, "It looks so natural, and so like
me to " sit" (or stand) to Mr. Powers for a wax Henderson, that I feel almost like asking it to go
figure of myself in the character of Mawworm, and take a drink with me."
which I had been playing at the theatre with  "Well, suppose you do," said Powers.
some success. Hiram was quite willing, and I  The admirer of art then approached very near
have no doubt it would have been a labor of love the table, and said, in a natural and friendly way,
to "take me;" but I declined, for the reason "Henderson, old boy, will you go out with me
that the proposed figure, standing up behind a and take a drink?"
screen which conveyed the idea of a pulpit, and  The face of H. became very expressive, the
in the attitude of preaching, and labeled "Sol lips twitched a little, then moved, and then the
Smith as Mawworm,"    might lead unthinking answer came, " Don't care if Ido!"
spectators who did not personally know me     The farce was ended.
(knowing, however, that I was an actor) to sup-  There is a sequel to this " story of a head,"
pose Sol Smith was making a mock of the forms which would hardly be entitled to be so entitled
of religion, which he has never done nor ever were I to stop here.
will do. I have often wished since that I had  The effigy of the dead and gone Aleck Drake
sat to the embryo artist in some other character, stood there in that museum, in that very attitude
that my name might be handed down to poster- of singing that very old song of " Love and Sauity (even in wax) in connection with that of the sages," for considerably over a quarter of a cengreat sculptor.                             tury, until (alas!) very few people remained who
An effigy of old Fred Henderson in the char- knew or had ever heard of the fine comedian it
acter of old Restive, the enraged Politician, was was so fine a likeness of. At last the proprietor
talked of, and, though never executed, a small of the museum (the proprietorship had changed
party of Powers's friends were greatly amused -changed several times), when asked what ragby a trick played upon them with the connivance ged old cuss that was standing there holding out
of Henderson. It was given out that the head a dirty pocket - handkerchief full of holes, was
of this actor had been completed in wax, and a obliged to confess he didn't know who it was;




THE STORY OF A HEAD.


267


and, presently, wanting the ragged clothes to
dress up a murderer or some other new celebrity, he dismantled the figure, and the head was
thrown away among a lot of other heads and
hands in a garret, and forgotten.
I was not there, but I had a brother-SAM, a
lover of the fine arts, living in Cincinnati. [This
brother had under his control, in 1864, a celebrated picture entitled THE CRUCIFIXION, which
produced at the Sanitary Fair $1100, and then,
the ticket drawing it remaining unsold, was removed to St. Louis, where $2500 were realized
on it by raffle at our fair, making a total of
$3600 for our sick and wounded soldiers. I
think it likely he or some other fortunate man
may succeed in purchasing it from the lucky individual of Belleville, Ill., who drew it on a ticket
which cost him a dollar, and now says he is willing to lose $500 on it-that is, he will sell it for
$2000, as he has no house large enough to get
it into, and is obliged to store it in St. Louis.
This by the way.] This only living brother of
mine was a warm friend of the living Powers,
and also of the deceased Drake, and hearing that
the "Love and Sausages" effigy no longer attitudinized in the museum, he instituted a search
for the lost figure, but for a long time no tidings
of it could be obtained. At length, in the year
of grace 1867, his hopes were revived on reading
in the Cbommercial one morning that the Museum
had " smashed up," and all the curiosities were
to be sold at auction to the highest bidder, the
Infernal Regions included. He attended that
auction, and saw Washingtons, Websters, and
Jacksons knocked down to the Barnums of the
country at astonishingly low prices. The component parts of the "Infernal Regions" were sold
in lots to suit purchasers. Devils were at a discount. Pitchforks were not in demand. Detnons of all kinds went for a song. Even old
Satan himself brought only a dollar and a half!
My brother looked on indifferently at these sacrifices, until, toward the close of the sale, a dusty
old head was produced from a barrel. Could it
be the head? It was; he couldn't be mistaken.
It was as bald as a badger, the wig having been
stripped off and (probably) used for some other
head-possibly sold to some modern comedian;
but the veritable head it was, and no mistake
about it. Samuel was willing to pay a good
price for that head, and expected it would be
"run up" on him, especially if any of the company should happen to know whose head it was,
and by whom moulded; but he assumed an air
of indifference, and appeared scarcely to notice
what it was that was up, though he was determined to have it, cost what it might. [My brother


has never told me exactly the cost of that head,
so I have to assume a sum. All he ever told me
was that he bought it at a very low figure.]
Auctioneer. What am I offered for this head?
Gentleman. Whose head is it?
Auctioneer. Sir, I don't know whose head it
is, but it will be yours if you purchase it. (A
laugh.) What-am-I-bid-for-it? Does any body
want it? Look at it, gentlemen; it is weeping
with sorrow at your want of appreciation of true
art. What do you say-shall I have a bid?
A small Englishman (after a pause). I will
give you twenty-five cents for that 'ere 'ead.
Auctioneer. Twenty-five cents? Why, that
wouldn't pay for the wax it is made of. Where's
Artemus Ward?    Twenty-five cents is bidtwenty-five, twenty-five, twenty-five! Where's
Barnum? Twenty-five, twenty-five, twentyfiveS.S.S. (disgusted at the smallness of the bid).
I will give ten dollars! (A general whistle.)
Auctioneer. Thank you, sir. Here's somebody that understands the worth of statuary.
Ten dollars -ten dollars -ten-ten-ten dollars-go-o-o-ing! Can I have any more? Let
me say twenty, dollars for you, sir (to a young
man smoking, who puts his thumb to his nose, and
with his forefinger brushes the ashes from the
end of his cigar, while the other fingers go
through the motions of playing the flute). Go-oo-ing! for ten-ten-ten-ten dollars! It is dirt
cheap, gentlemen! Only ten-ten —ten-tenten-ten-ten-ten - ten - ten- ten -ten-goo-o-ing! Will you let a valuable head like this
go for ten-ten-ten-ten-ten-ten-tenquick, or you lose it!-ten-ten-ten-tencan't dwell-going for ten-ten-ten-oncetwice-last call-GONE! (with a gentle rap upon
the head). It is yours, sir, and a great bargain
you have got. (All look round to see who is the
purchaser.) You must have known the person
whose head that represents?
S. S. S.(taking the head reverently). "I knew
him well, Horatio."
Auctioneer. Shall I send it up to your office?
S. S. S. No; I'll take it with me. Here's
your money; and you will please mark this
head "delivered."
And, elated beyond measure, he covered his
purchase with a pocket-handkerchief and hastened home. If there were any applications for
insurance at his office that day, they had to lie
over: the President of the Equitable remained
at home contemplating the features of his old
friend Aleck, and explaining to his family the
lucky chance by which he became possessed of
the long-lost head; and it required some expla



268


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


nation, for not one of his children, now, all but
one, grown up to be men and women, nor even
his wife, had ever heard of such a person as
Alexander Drake, whose head was destined
thenceforth to rest upon a bracket, covered with
a glass case, in the parlor.
Alas for the mutability of human affairs! A
regard for truth will not permit me to leave that
head upon that bracket, with select crowds of
invited friends gazing at it and giving breath to
their ecstatic emotions in words of unbounded
admiration. [Between you and I, reader, it
must be confessed that the head by itself, without the body, wig, and costume, and, above all,
the attitude, could not have been a very agreeable sight to strangers-not much more so than
the head of St. John upon a charger; but no
matter, I must hasten to a conclusion, or I shall
tire you.]


he. But it couldn't be a play either, for who
ever saw a parlor play where all were silent and
sad?
"What's the matter, girls?" asked the invalid,
approaching the circle. "You all seem as melancholy as a defeated party after an election.
What has happened?"
No answer was given in words, but all turned
their eyes upward to the empty bracket-yes, the
empty bracket; his eyes followed theirs, which
now returned to the floor....
The dancing had jarred the bracket. The
head and the glass-case had been shaken off.
They had fallen to the floor with a crash, and
there lay the glass and head, broken into about
a thousand and twenty-three small bits!
So, instead of surprising his friends, as he
fondly hoped to do, my good brother got very
much surprised himself-shocked, I may say.
The Actor and the Phrenologist.
BY JAMES REES.
"Prove all things."-ST. PAUL.
"In the year 1835, being in the city of New
York, it was our good fortune to form an acquaintance with Mr. Sol Smith, which it has
pleased that same fortune to keep unimpaired
ever since. We long had expressed a desire to
meet this eccentric genius face to face; and as
we have, as is pretty well known, a penchant for
every thing of a dramatic character, it would
have been high treason in us to have neglected
the opportunity of becoming personally acquainted with one so justly celebrated in dramatic annals as is this gentleman. The name of Sol Smith
was at that period, and still is with us, associated with all our early recollections of the dramatic history of our country. We have numerous anecdotes of his sayings and doings in the
'mimic world,' all of which, if given with the
spirit of their truth, would keep the table in a
roar, and reflect, at least upon one member of
the profession, the highest degree of credit. We
remember certain vocal exhibitions in the old
Vauxhall Garden of Philadelphia in 'auld lang
syne,' and concertizing, and lecturing in divers
places and upon divers subjects-in fact the very
name of Sol Smith has a charm for us; it calls up
reminiscences of a pleasing and romantic character; and when we refer back o'er the pages of
memory, what a host of incidents present themselves, and every memento has a tale of mirthful, and, not unfrequently, sorrowful interest.
Memories, however, are but retrogressive shadows-the waking dreams of past realities.
"Sol Smith's connection with the American


A. DRAKE'S HEAD.


When all was ready, and the grim bald head
was up, the young folk of the family had a party,
and my brother intended to astonish his young
visitors by a disclosure which they would remember for the remainder of their lives. A rich
crimson shawl was thrown over the glass case,
and he intended, when the dancing should be
over, to surprise the company with a sight of
poor Yorick's head. Being somewhat indisposed that night, most likely from the excitement he had undergone while preparing for the
intended "surprise," he did not leave his room
until late in the evening, when the dancing had
suddenly ceased, as he learned by the house
ceasing to shake. "Now," said he, "now is the
time for the surprise." In slippers and morninggown, he crept down stairs and opened one of
the parlor doors, when he saw all his visitors
huddled together and looking at something on
the floor. "Some play they are at," thought




THE ACTOR AND THE PHRENOLOGIST.


269


stage, and his identity with a most interesting
portion of it-the South and West-is of that
character which, if published, would be, perhaps,
the most interesting and amusing of all his other dramatic sketches. The Drama of the West
would be a history of an adventurous band, who,
like the early pioneers to the 'dark and bloody
ground,' had to contend against obstacles almost
as terrible as the wild savages, the tiger, and the
bear. Fanaticism, in any country, is a far more
dangerous monster to art and science than are
the hordes of untamed beasts or armed savages.
The Drama, however, flourished; Sol flourished
with it, and has ever since maintained its character, and protected and defended it from and
against this, its most dangerous enemy.
" Let this pass. To those unacquainted with
Sol Smith, there are times and occasions when
he may be readily taken for a preacher; indeed,
this is not altogether an optical delusion, but a
veritable truth; and, if we mistake not, he has
on one or two occasions officiated under circumstances which reflected the highest credit on his
talents, and zealous exertions in that cause-the
cause of truth and of morality. Well, it so happened, just at that time, not far from the Park
Theatre, where Sol was playing an engagement,
there resided a somewhat celebrated phrenologist-one of those deluded sons of science, who
imagined it one, when, in fact, it was and is but
a mapped humbug, drawn on the surface of a
shadowy skull. Indeed, this disciple of Cole
and Gall really thought that he possessed an
ethereal spark of divinity, which enabled him to
read and expound the mysteries of the invisible
world, and the wonders of the human mind.
His shingle was at the door, and professions,
characters, habits, etc., of individuals were written out for the trifling sum of five dollars each,
Empire State currency. Before this door, on
the day in question, stood Sol Smith, silent,
solemn, sombre, serious, somewhat skeptical, if
not superstitious. He looked as much like a
preacher as it was possible for a man to look
who really wished to be gazed upon as such.
Preachers have a sort of human feeling that
way-it is natural, nor is there any great harm
in it.
" The phrenologist was in his sanctum, and
looking forth into the crowded street, not unlike a Peter Funk seeking whom he may devour. In a moment, Sir Oracle of the head
read his man, and it so happened that, at the
very moment this knowledge entered the brain
of the bumpologist, a similar transfer of mesmeric fluid passed into that of Sol; he, too, read
his man. It was a sort of mutual sympathetic


electricity-a communion of souls and thoughts;
and although Sol was not then (as we sincerely
hope he is now) blessed with many V's, he determined to lessen the alphabet of his cash by
that letter at least; so he entered the sanctum,
and the man of bumps scratched his head in actual ecstasy, numbering the digits exactly in accordance with the amount of dollars he was to
receive.
" The smile, the bow, the greeting being over,
Sol was placed in a sort of inquisitorial chair.
His head-and a good phrenological head it was
and is, apart from the science-was erect; his
forehead, high and intellectual, was somewhat
marred by a sort of dramatic frown, which rested at its base like a dark shadow on a piece of
sculptured marble. That frown should not have
been there; but there it was, and those who
know the man, and examine that same head,
will find that same frown still lingering near and
about it. It is, we are afraid, a sort offixture.
He, however, sat erect; lips compressed; lines,
which are called the 'traces of humor,' diverged
from the mouth, and, assuming a sterner form
from those which make up the human face divine, were lost in the infixible, if not contraction
of every muscle, over which he at times has so
much command. The head, then and there, was
a model, and the phrenologist gazed upon it with
wonder, awe, and veneration. The man of science approached it cautiously; his very lips
smacked with the innate chuckle which came up
from the hidden caverns of his throat like those
of an old hen presiding over the ivory-like prisons of her unfledged young. It was a scientific
chuckle-a voluntary action of the organ of joy;
it was, however, a chuckle, and we will set it
down as one of delight. The man of bumps
spoke as he mapped the actor's head; he went
on to this effect-it was a perfect eruption of a
Vesuvius of science: ' Extraordinary head-veneration the most profound, reverence the most
exalted, a mysterious combination of all the elements which make up the model man of God.
How they harmonize-a life of study, of piety,
and religious observance-a distaste of the vanities of the world. Sir!' he exclaimed, in the excitement of his enthusiastic admiration, 'you
have the exact copy of a head of one of the greatest and best of men. Excuse me, sir-ah! here
is a bump-Channing has one exactly like it.
Here is a line dividing, or rather diverging from
a membrane. See how exquisitely, how beautifully it lingers around the base of veneration,
and links it with reverence. The mind of man,
sir, is endowed with a plurality of innate faculties. Each of the faculties manifests itself




270


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


through the medium of some particular organ.
Sir, I am now looking down into your brain.'
[Here Smith winced a little.] 'Be still, sir-all
right. The organs of the mental faculty have
their seat in the brain, the brain being a congeries of these organs. I am now, sir, in your
brain.' [Here another wince.] ' Be silent, sirI will soon step out. Now I am on the surface
-what a surface!' Thus he continued, filling
up the time occupied with his examination with
all sorts of remarks and technical phrases. Sol
suffered the infliction-for it was one-in silence, although it was with the greatest difficulty
he could refrain from laughing outright. Immediately across the street there was posted a large
play-bill of the Park Theatre, announcing the
play of the HYPOCRITE, Ml~awworm by Mr. Sol
Smith! After receiving his fee (a V), the bumpologist requested the name of his distinguished
visitor, observing that he was always anxious to
have gentlemen of his calling on his list. Sol
seized the arm of the astonished man of science,
led him in silence to the window, and, pointing
his finger in a theatrical manner toward the imposing play-bill on the opposite side, and speaking in a slow but decided tone, 'Sir, therebehold my card-my name is Smith-not John
Smith, but Sol Smith. I am an actor, and manager of several theatres in the South, and should
be most happy to see you at the theatre this
evening. Sir, I wish you a very good morning.'
" Sol vanished, leaving the astonished bumpologist a picture of human petrifaction. The last
we heard of him, he was engaged in the manufacturing of fine-tooth combs at Deep River,
Connecticut, in the extensive comb manufactory
of George Read & Co., and, although his hands
are no longer employed in looking for bumps on
the head, the produce of his labor goes abroad,
performing the task in a far more creditable, if
not more effective and beneficial manner."
The Prince of Morocco on Horseback.
BY THE LATE M. C. FIELD.
"In the MERCHANT OF VENICE, Shakspeare


by Nerissa. But as the piece is acted, even
these two are 'cut out,' and they are scarcely
named in modern performances.
" ' Old Sol' Smith was some years since making a circuit of several towns in Georgia and Alabama, where he had theatres, when at one place
he was pestered by a persevering country simpleton who wanted to ' come out and act.' Nothing
is more difficult than to get rid of one of these
stage-struck innocents when once touched by the
mania. Sol saw at a glance the character he
had before him, and determined to repay himself for the constant annoyance of the young man
by extracting some amusement from him. He
accordingly told the youth that he might attend
when he liked behind the scenes, and some opportunity would perhaps occur when he could
come out. This privilege was greedily seized
upon by the aspirant, who immediately became
almost part and parcel of the scenery, so closely
did he scrutinize the actors and lounge around
the stage.
" Still pertinaciously he demanded every morning what his part was to be, and when he was to
play. Worn out with continual teasing, Old Sol
told him one day, during a rehearsal of the MERCHANT OF VENICE, that he should appear that
evening, and his part should be that of the
Prince of llMorocco, a personage now wholly unknown in ' Cumberland's Acting Edition.' This
new and original cast had its designed effect of
r*~ing a laugh at the time, and was then forgotten until the evening, when the stage-doorkeeper
was heard in loud words with some one who
wanted to come in and act.
"' Who are you?' said the doorkeeper.
" 'I'm the Prince of Morocco,' said the unsophisticated young gentleman, 'and you must
let me in to act.'
" Sol knew the voice, and hurried to quench
the disturbance, in doing which his ready drollery and wit at once displayed themselves.
" 'Ah! you are here,' said Sol; ' that's right;
but, shade of Thespis! what do I behold? Man!
man! where is your red morocco dress?'
"'Eh?' said the Georgia bumpkin, with a


has several fine, high-born suitors applying for stupid stare.
the hand of Portia. There is, first, the Neapoli-  " ' Oh, all the gods at once, and miching maltan Prince, then the County Palatine, the French lecho to boot! who ever heard of a Prince of
lord, Monsieur Le Bon, Falconbridge, the young Morocco without a full suit of red morocco arbaron of England, a Scottish lord, the young mor! Go away, sir; I see now you will never
German, the Duke of Saxony's nephew (an an- do for an actor,' and so Old Sol got rid of the
cestor of Prince Albert, perhaps), after whom  young tragedian this time.
comes the Prince of Morocco, and the Prince of  "Months afterward our eccentric manager
Aragon, these two last being introduced person- had his company in another town, several hunally in the play, while the former respectable in- dred miles away, when the MERCHANT OF VEN_dividuals are only ' over-named' to her mistress ICE, or, as an old stager would say, 'the Shylock




A REPLY TO REV. DR. BEECHER, BY C. A. LOGAN.


271


piece,' in due time came to be announced, as it
was one of the standing stock performances of
the troupe. When the actors were assembling
for rehearsal, every body was astounded at the
apparition of a man dressed from head to foot in
red leather, standing in front of the theatre,
waiting, as he said, to see Sol Smith. Presently
Sol came along, recognized his old protege, went
through the operation of a side-splitting fit of
laughter, and then commenced studying how to
get rid once more of so strange an annoyance.
"'Ah! you are here,' said Old Sol; 'that's
right; but, eh? shade of Thespis! where's your
horse?'
"'Horse!' ejaculated the gentleman in red,
with profound astonishment spreading over his
face.
"'Your horse,' cried Old Sol, pretending to
fly into a tremendous passion. 'Oh, miching
mallecho, and all the gods! who ever saw a
Prince of Morocco on foot? Begone, sir; I see
you are no actor.'
" The poor young fellow went away abashed,
and Sol concluded his crazy desires were checked,
when once again, after a long travel through
Georgia to Montgomery, Alabama, one morning,
just when the theatre was announced to open for
the first time, up rode the young Georgia Cracker, in his scarlet dress, on a wild-looking Indian
pony, followed by twenty or thirty boys, just
starting out to school, all screaming and flinging
up their caps with delight at the strange spectacle.
" Orally, Old Sol tells the story with a droll
and irresistible effect, much of which may be
lost in our attempt at writing it, but we have
never had a more ludicrous occurrence to record.
The mirth of the actors and the whimsical manager may be imagined when the tragic tyro from
Georgia came riding into Montgomery, armed
and equipped according to order, with red leather
pantaloons, jacket, and cap, and valiantly mounted, to make his first appearance on any stage as
the Prince of Morocco-on horseback!
There being a page or two to spare, I fill them,
and close my book with
A Defense of the Stage,
BY THE LATE C. A. LOGAN.
From the New Orleans Republican, 1844.
THE THEATRE.
"Sol. Smith, Esq., the worthy manager of the
St. Charles Theatre has kindly placed in our
hands the following article for publication. Mr.
Smith tells us it was written by Mr. Logan, the
well-known comedian, in August last, which, we
believe, was about the time his own most able


and pungent letter to Dr. Beecher was published
in the New York papers, and so extensively copied throughout the country. It will be remembered that the Tremont Theatre in Boston
was last summer converted into a church, and at
its consecration the reverend doctor preached a
sermon, in which he assailed with great bitterness plays, players, and all things theatrical.
"The following letter will explain why this
'reply' was not published before:
" Mobile, February 9, 1844.
"' SOL. SMITH, ESQ.: DEAR SIR,-I cheerfully comply with your flattering request to furnish you with a copy of my reply to Dr. Beecher's sermon, although it is with some reluctance
I consent to its publication at this late day. I
wrote the reply immediately after the sermon
was delivered, and was about to publish it when
your own letter to the reverend doctor met my
eye. That letter, so admirably written, and so
far superior to my humble effort, seemed to cover
the whole ground, and leave nothing farther to
be said on the subject.
"'Fully agreeing with you that when the
Drama is assailed from so many quarters, all its
friends should become its defenders, I respectfully submit the manuscript to your disposal.
" 'Very respectfully, your obedient servant,
"'C. A. LOGAN.'
"We regret that we have not space for the
whole of this 'reply.' After an elaborate exordium the writer thus proceeds:
t' The doctor's text is inappropriate-it means
nothing in connection with his subject. He
doubtless searched the Scriptures for a motto,
and could find nothing nearer his subject-matter
than "traitors, heady, high-minded lovers of
pleasure more than lovers of God;" and yet he
asserts that the Scriptures expressly forbid theatrical amusements. They do not. No sentence
that can be tortured into such a prohibition is to
be found in the sacred volume. He admits that
the Drama is coeval with religion. If so, it must
have been well known to the inspired writers, and
yet, while no human vice or folly escaped the
strictures of these reverend characters, no word
of censure, even in parable, was ever uttered
against theatrical representations.
" 'The doctor enumerates as sinful pleasures
' gladiatorial shows, bull-fights, excess of eating,
inebriation, and groveling animalism," and says
that " the theatre has in all time stood the temple of these Mammon worshipers." Here is a
jumble of epithets from which no sense can be
extracted. Surely no man ever saw a gladiatorial show, or a bull-fight, or excess of eating, or
groveling animalism m a modern theatre. And
how can it be called a temple of the worshipers




272


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


of Mammon? The doctor says afterward that
the amusement is too dear to be indulged in except by a few, and surely these few can not be
worshipers of the sordid deity of gold, or they
would not be there. He can not mean the actors, for if they worship gold, verily they bend the
knee to an unknown God.
"'We are told that "although the Drama
was originally a religious institution, the divinity
adored was Bacchus, and the sacrifices, feastings, wine, and songs have come down in unbroken succession to our day." The doctor's
knowledge of early history is defective, or he willfully misrepresents the whole matter. In the remoter ages of the world the Drama was the only
medium of human worship. Bacchus, and Mammon, and the whole host of heathen deities were
imaginations of a much later date. The shepherds and husbandmen of the Nile-the earliest
worshipers that tradition reaches - invented a
sort of sacred Drama, of which the priests were
the actors. The " God of the Overflow" was
adored in a secondary character-that is, as represented by a sage, whose duty it was to watch
the march of the heavenly bodies, and to predict
the period of the inundation of the valley. A
malignant spirit was also introduced upon the
scene who was crowned with a dead serpent of
the Nile, and whose dress was composed of the
leaves of the withered lotus. This mystery, like
the melodrama of the present day, was interspersed with music, and the most magnificent
temples were erected for its representation.
These were the first churches.
"'Thus it appears that Religion and the
Drama were at first identical, but Time has divided them. God has assigned to the one the
high and holy mission of promulgating throughout the world his ineffable glory, and to the other he has delegated the power to sway the human heart by striking its subtle and intangible
chords-to soften, to refine, and to elevate.
" ' 'Tis true that Thespis on his car at Athens
chanted odes to Bacchus; but Bacchus was not
held by the Athenians as the God of Drunkenness, as many imagine. He was the God of the
Vine, doubtless, but he was honored for qualities
distinct from ideas of sensual indulgence. Solemn temples were erected to his worship by a
temperate people, and it is thus that with the
name of this god the performances of the earliest
professional actor are associated.
" ' As civilization advanced Lschylus rosethe father of the Drama. He was, like Shakspeare, an actor as well as a poet, and "no
Athenian of his day was so honored as JEschylus, for he created the Drama." They bound


his brows with laurel, and when he walked forth
at noon they sprung arches of oak over his head.
Sophocles, Euripides, and Aristophanes followed
AEschylus, and some of their works live yet, unapproached by effort-an imperishable and somewhat humiliating proof that whatever strides science may have taken in the world, the sublime
genius of letters-mature at its birth-has denied
the honor to succeeding generations of adding
any thing to its brilliancy.
" ' This divine tells us that " the Drama has
commenced its retreat, and will soon pass away."
Nothing can be more evidently opposite to the
truth than both the assertion and the prediction.
At no period of the world were theatres and actors so numerous as now. In most of the civilized nations of Europe the Drama is under the
special protection of the crown, and in those
countries where letters are most cultivated, and
where refinement has attained its highest polish,
the theatre is supported by the government. In
this country, 'tis true, the recent commercial distress, pervading as it did all classes of the community, reached theatrical amusements, and prostrated several establishments whose capital was
too slender to bear the shock. The Tremont
house was one of these, and Dr. Beecher gloats
over the fall of his imaginary foe in a strain of
invective that falls harshly from the lips of a disciple of our meek and mild Redeemer.
" ' The doctor next refers to his predictionuttered, he says, at the building of the Tremont
Theatre-" that he would live to preach in it."
Let me record another prediction, uttered in my
hearing at the same time. One day, while the
workmen were shingling the roof of the theatre,
I ascended to the cupola of the State-house in
Boston, and, on reaching the platform, I found
the Rev. Doctor - and two ladies enjoying the
fine view of the city. Their eyes at length rested on this splendid temple of the Muses, and the
doctor exclaimed, " So they're shingling the
house of the devil! I prophesy that in less than
one year God in his wrath will burn it up with
fire!" This false prophet was a divine of no less
reputation than Dr. Beecher, and I withhold his
name only because, his prognostication having
failed, the disclosure might throw discredit on
his future predictions.
"I I The claims of the theatre to holiness will
not be insisted on." No; the theatre lays as few
claims to holiness as the Church does to comedy
-each has its appropriate sphere. The Church
is built upon the Rock of Ages, and the Drama
is built upon the human heart; the divine truth
of the one, and the sublime morality of the
other, will find a living response in that heart




LOGAN'S DEFENSE OF THE STAGE.


273


as long as it beats with a single attribute of the
Deity.
" The doctor complains that ministers of religion are brought upon the stage to be ridiculed as
'dolts, pedants, or dullards.' The reply is that
there exist ministers who are stupid, pedantic,
and dull; and should these be exempt from censure or ridicule more than the rest of mankind?
Should 'such divinity hedge' all who wear the
black robe that they should not be held amenable to the laws by which other men are governed? If there are reverend gentlemen who disgrace their holy calling by seduction, adultery,
forgery, simony, or hypocrisy, should our awe of
the cloth they pollute screen them from the punishment with which the law should visit their
crimes, or the satire with which the stage should
lash their vices?
" ' What school-houses, academies, or colleges
has it (the theatre) built?' If the tlheatre added
to its other important powers the building or endowing of educational institutions, it would surpass as an instrument of good all human inventions. But, unhappily, its ability is not equal to
such attempts. Its means of doing good are
crippled by the pulpit. The fulminations of clerical orators of all grades of intellect, from Dr.
Beecher down to the poor mad ranter who desecrates the stillness of our Sabbath by his senseless bellowings in the highways and marketplaces of this city-all, all have a fling at their
great rival, the theatre! Is this unchristian
spirit imitated by the theatre? No. Not a sentence-not a syllable is ever heard from the stage
that can be construed to swerve from that respect
which the Drama ever pays to true religion.
" ' What streams of knowledge has it diffused?
What science cultivated or explained?' Plays,
for the most part, are founded on remarkable
events in history, ancient and modern. Of the
thirty-seven written by Shakspeare, twenty-four
may for our present purpose be called poetical
versions of well-authenticated historical passages.
From no single historian can a tenth part of the
truth of anv event dramatized by Shakspeare be
gathered. The immortal poet frequently drew
his knowledge from sources which have not come
down to our day. We can nowhere obtain so
clear an insight into the characters, motives, passions, and politics of the men who fought the
Wars of the Roses as in the plays of this author.
Who ever saw, except their own contemporaries,
the heroes of antiquity until Shakspeare introduced them to us face to face-the living, breathing, speaking inhabitants of Greece and Rometheir warriors, sages, orators, patriarchs, and plebeians? To the man who reads history only,
S


Marius, Sylla, Nero, and Caligula have none of
the features of humanity about them. The chief
acts of their lives being exhibited unrelieved by
a statement of the means by which their deeds
were accomplished, they appear like the grotesque figures in a phantasmagoria-fearful from
their indistinctness, horrible from their mysterious burlesque on human nature, and alike hideous whether we laugh or shudder at the monstrous chimera. Turn to the page of Shakspeare,
or behold his swelling scene at the theatre, and
these men-seen, arriving at natural ends by natural means- teach the eternal truth that the
heart of man is the same in all ages, and that
vice has produced misery and virtue happiness
from the beginning of the world.
"The doctor quotes Plato as adverse to the
theatre. Every man who has not forgotten his
school-boy classics can quote passages in Plato
which would make the doctor feel that he calculated too much on the ignorance of his hearers.
And Aristotle, too, the divine drags into the argument. Why, every tyro knows that the only
laws acknowledged even to this day for constructing comedies are those of this philosopher,
who declares that 'tragedy is intended to purge
our passions by means of terror and pity.' And
' Tacitus says the German manners were guarded by having no play-houses among them.' If
that be true, the Germans have thought better
on the subject since the time of Tacitus; for one
of the modern writers of that nation (Zingerman) says, 'We are greatly a dramatic people.
* * * Nothing but good can result from the
widest indulgence of this taste among us, unless
it happen that the sedentary and imaginative
student should, through his diseased appetite,
draw poison from the stage, as the serpent distills venom from the nutritious things of nature.'
"The doctor next invokes Ovid to his aid.
Surely nothing but a design to frighten us with
an array of classical names could induce the
preacher to bolster his argument with the opinion of the most licentious poet of ancient or modern times. Ovid calling the theatre dissolute!
and advising its suppression! Why, 'tis like Satan denouncing heaven from the burning lake, or
like a pickpocket advising the suppression of the
penal code.
" Next we have a list of the formidable opinions of the early fathers of the Church, who were
unanimous in their condemnation of the theatre.
Doubtless. So they were in the condemnation
and burning of martyrs and witches. However
pious were many of them according to their unchristian and ferocious notions of piety, their




274


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RETIRED ACTOR.


sentiments on the subject of the Drama are not
worth a moment's discussion.
"The doctor here arrives at a point where
the stage seems indeed vulnerable. He alludes
to the bars for the sale of liquor, and to the third
row.
" In reply to the first, I would say, that if men
will drink in despite of Temperance Societies, it
matters but little where they get the liquor. If
there were no bars within the house, the thirsty
would most certainly find the stimulant out of
doors. And yet bars are no more necessary to
the theatre than to the pulpit. I am old enough
to remember the time when men would assemble
at the tavern nearest the church as soon as the
service was over, and there discuss the merits of
the sermon and of brandy and water at the same
time. The Temperance movement, however,
wrought wonders, and I believe the same men
do not drink now-at least not until they reach
home.
" The other charge is a graver one-the third
tier. This evil is no more essential to the Drama than the bars, nor is it ' an inseparable concomitant of the theatre.' The separation has
taken place in many towns of this country. In
Europe, and in the larger cities of this continent, the doors are thrown open to all who pay,
and conform to certain regulations. No one
has a right to say to his neighbor, 'Stand aside,
for I am holier than thou.' The third row is assigned to those who are without the pale of society, and the money of these, 'tis true, is often
needful to a treasury impoverished by the absence of persons of enlightened piety, whom
clerical denunciations deter from partaking of
that elegant amusement, blended with wholesome instruction, which can be enjoyed nowhere
but in a well-regulated theatre.
"The 'pants' and abbreviated garments of
Fanny Ellsler next fall under the animadversions
of the doctor. Of all the dancers that have appeared on the modern stage, this celebrated
Terpsichorean is the most modest. In this lies
her principal charm.  Her dress, necessarily
short, to permit the free use of her limbs, is
managed with such graceful dexterity, that his
imagination must be 'as foul as Vulcan's stithy'
who could conceive an impure thought while
gazing on her ethereal movement or her classic
repose; and what a libel on the ladies of Boston
and other cities-the refined, the high, and the
pure, who flocked in crowds, night after night,
in thousands, to behold this fascinating artiste, to
say that ' her dancing might have made the devil
blush, and female virtue, had it been there, burn
with indignation, and hang her head in shame!'


"No woman blushes to see the bold and
slightly draped statuary of the great masters.
The paintings of our first parents in Paradise
suggest no indelicate ideas. Why is this? Because no taint of voluptuousness defiled the mind
of the sculptor or the painter in the production
of his work. His soul, filled only with sublime
notions of the beautiful and the true, chisels or
delineates humanity without its earthiness and
passion-without its grossness. A rising young
sculptor who was in New Orleans a year or two
ago was desirous of studying the anatomical outline of the living subject. He made every exertion to induce a woman to sit for him-in vain.
He sought out at length some of the abject and
abandoned Quadroons, whose scanty meal was
gained by the most loathsome infamy, and offered what to them must have been a large sum, to
stand before him as a model for one hour. None
could be found to do it. The blush lay in the
pollution of their own minds.
" Our young American, however, had but little
right to complain. Two of the greatest masters
of antiquity, Apelles the painter, and Praxiteles
the sculptor, seemed to have had but one model
between them for their respective works-Phryne
of Bcesia having been the original of the Venus
in oil, as well as of the goddess in stone. Caroline, queen of Naples, sister to Napoleon and
wife of Murat, stood as a model for Psyche at
the Tribunal of Venus in Paris. The lady in
the modern case may be condemned, but it went
to show that in her lofty mind no impure thought
could be connected with the Fine Arts.
"Dr. Channing happened to remark two or
three years ago that much of the spirit of the
Drama-that is, its purer portions-divested of
the necessary dross of bad acting (which seems
to be only as shade in a picture), might be condensed into readings or 'lectures;' and, lo! a
swarm of lecturers, numerous and noisy as the
locusts of Egypt, devoured the land. Men of
little education and less character committed to
memory a few of the simplest truths of Natural
Philosophy, Astronomy, Magnetism, Chemistry,
and the laws of general Physics, and advertised
to instruct the public at a price for the course of
lectures, half the amount of which would be sufficient to purchase at any book-store volumes
that contain not only the whole stock of the lecturer's knowledge, but more extended views of
the subject than he himself, perhaps, ever read.
This mania hurt the theatre a while, but the unnatural excitement was short-lived. The public
has already turned from this paltry banquet, and
seeks again the wholesome food spread before it
by every well-conducted theatre.




THE THEATRE AND THE PULPIT.


275


" Those periods in history in which the Drama declined are marked by bigotry, violence,
and civil war. All the theatres in London were
closed by order of Oliver Cromwell, and ten days
afterward the head of Charles the First rolled
from the block! Terror and gloom hung over
the kingdom. The Drama was interdicted-the
arts perished-the woof rotted in the loom-the
plow rusted in the furrow, and men's hearts were
strung to the ferocity of fanaticism. Fathers
and sons shed each other's blood; and in the intervals of lust and murder, wild riot howled
through the wasted land. Even if permitted by
the laws, the theatre could not exist amid such
horrors. But the actors were outlawed, and the
bigoted Roundheads fixed that stigma upon the
profession of a player which illiterate and narrow-minded people attach to it even to this day.
"The pulpit too often depicts Virtue in aus

tere and forbidding colors, and strips her of every attractive grace. The path of duty is made
a rugged and toilsome way-narrow and steep;
and the fainting pilgrim is sternly forbidden to
turn aside his bleeding feet to tread, even for a
moment, the soft and pleasant greensward of
Sin, which smiles alluring on every side.
" The stage paints Virtue in her holiday garments; and though storms sometimes gather
round her radiant head, the countenance of the
heavenly maid, resigned, serene, and meek,
beams forth, after a season of patient suffering,
With ineffable refulgence. Vice constantly wears
his hideous features, and in the sure, inevitable
punishment of the guilty we behold the type of
that Eternal Justice before whose fiat the purest
of us shall tremble when the curtain falls on the
Great Drama of Life."




E PI TA PH.


[TO BE ENGEAVED UPON A PLAIN S3TONE IN BELLEFONTAINE CEMETERY, ST. LOUIS3.]


RETIRED ACTOR.
1801-18 ---
"Life' s but a walking shadow; a poor PLAYER,
That struts and frets his hour upon the STAGE,
And then is heard no more."
"All the world's a STAGE,
And all the men and women merely PLAYERS."






EXIT SOL.






FRANKLIN SQUARE, NEW      YORK,
October 1, 1868.
HARPER & BROTHERS'
AUTUMN BOOK LIST.
OF* HARPER & BROTHERS will send the following Works by Mail, postage paid, to any part of the United States
on receipt of the Price.
HARPER'S CATALOGUE sent by Mail on receipt of Five Cents, or it may be obtained gratuitously on application to the Publishers personally.
Kinglake's Crimean War.
The Invasion of the Crimea: Its Origin, and an Account of its Progress
down to the Death of Lord Raglan. By ALEXANDER WILLIAM KINGLAKE.
Vol. IL now    ready.   With Maps and Plans.           i2mo, Cloth, $2 oo per Vol.
Whatever opinion may be formed of some of the au-  (In regard to the Charge of the Light Brigade.) Mr.
thor's deductions, no one can hesitate to allow that he Kinglake, in our opinion, states the case in its differhas clearly devoted the utmost patience to the sifting ent aspects, clearly and impartially, and is disposed
of a mass of materials by which a less laborious or rather to extenuate faults than to set down aught in
clear-sighted writer would have been confused, if not malice.... Mr. Kinglake in his present volume
overwhelmed. The polished diction and burnished fully sustains his reputation; and this is saying much.
style which first made their author famous are still Few non-professional men have ever so completely
maintained in this volume; and were the interest of mastered the true spirit of the art of war, or described
the subject even less momentous, they would be eager- military events with such graphic power; fewer still
ly read as specimens of a literary production of con- can clothe their impressions in such pure and nervous
summate skill.-Saturday Review.                English.-Examiner.
By a happy accident the author has acquired extra-  Mr. Kinglake has exhibited extraordinary powers
ordinary opportunities and advantages for ascertain- as a historian in his account of the Battle of Balaklava.
ing and verifying the incidents of a remarkable epi- The minuteness with which he traces all the movesode in history, with which the national honor is ments of that terrible action-the care and industry
inextricably mixed up. He has shown himself willing with which he weighs the several and sometimes conto undergo any amount of personal sacrifice and re- fiicting accounts-the mastery of detail and knowledge
sponsibility for the adequate performance of what, to of military tactics which he displays-and the general
him, is both a public and a private duty. He has in- vividness of the narrative, which often seems to glow
stituted a careful survey of the localities; he has con- with the light and echo with the roar of mortal comsuited and collected dispatches and correspondence bat, combine to form one of the most remarkable picwithout end; he has personally communicated with tures of a great battle which our literature can boast.
statesmen and warriors, with almost all the leading Sometimes composed in the spirit of military criticism
actors and many of the less prominent characters who -calm, cool, and observant-and at others in that of
have figured on the scene, and he has got together a some modern prose Homer, who feels the inspiration
mass ofinformation perhaps unequaled in pari mate- of the fight, and kindles with the personal heroism of
ria for fullness, accuracy, interest, and variety-Fra- individual actors, it shows throughout the hand of a
ser's Magazine.                                 master in this species of writing.-London Review.
Dalton's Physiology.
Physiology and Hygiene. For Schools, Families, and Colleges. By J. C.
DALTON, M.D., Professor of Physiology in the College of Physicians and
Surgeons, New York.        With Illustrations.     I2mo, Cloth.     (Just ready.)
M'Clintock & Strong's Cyclopedia.
Cyclopaedia of Biblical, Theological, and Ecclesiastical Literature. Prepared
by the Rev. JOHN M'CLINTOCK, D.D., and JAMES STRONG, S.T.D.                     Vol. I.
now ready.     Royal 8vo.     Price per Vol., Cloth, $5 oo; Sheep, $6 oo; Half
Morocco, $8 oo.




2


Harper &6  Brothers' Autumn Book List.


The Opium Habit.
The Opium Habit, with Suggestions as to the Remedy. I2mo, Cloth, $i 75.


The writer and compiler of the volume has been
himself a victim to the habit which he describes, having eaten more than half a hundredweight of the drug
and continued in its uninterrupted use for more than
fifteen years. He emancipated himself by a short but
painful struggle of six weeks, in which he proceeded
from 80 grains a day by diminished doses to its entire
abandonment. The story which he tells is interesting
without being at all sensational; it is minute enough
without being tedious, and its moral lessons of hope
Student's New Testament Histor]


and perseverance are none the less impressive from
the fact that there is not any attempt to state or enforce them. There is no cant nor preaching in the
story, and but very little in the selections which follow it; the author judging wisely enough that the
facts preach loudly and forcibly enough, and that to
the great majority of opium-eaters their own reflections furnish more preaching than they care to hear
or can consent to endorse.-Nation.




The New Testament History. With an Introduction, connecting the History
of the Old and New Testaments. Edited by WILLIAM SMITH, LL.D., Classical Examiner in the University of London. With Maps and Woodcuts.
Large I2mo, Cloth, $2 oo.


A valuable and cheap compendium of accurate information drawn from the most recent results of scholarship.-Advance.
Those who have read the New Testament only in a
desultory fashion, or in the disorderly method in
which it is arranged in our version, will find a new
light cast upon itby the study of the book in its chronological order, and with such helps as Dr. Smith has
here presented.-Amer. Presbyterian (Philadelphia).
Very complete and excellent as a book of reference.
-Observer.
It meets a want which every young student of the
Bible feels.-Cincinnati Christian Advocate.


Sabbath-school teachers, and the more advanced
pupils of Sabbath-schools, as well as intelligent private students of the Scriptures, will find this a helpful
and remunerative volume.-Congregationalist.
By far the best of its kind of any thing that has yet
been published.-Churchman.
The chapters treating of the Maccabees and the
times of Herod, the sects and several branches of the
Jews, and their new forms of worship, are thoughtfully written, though necessarily from a Christian
standpoint-but the book is prepared for Christian
students, and they will find it exceedingly useful and
valuable.-Jewish Messenger.


Uniform with the above:


THE STUDENT'S HISTORY OF GREECE.
A History of Greece from the Earliest Times
to the Roman Conquest. With Supplementary
Chapters on the History of Literature and Art.
By WILLIAM SMITH, LL.D., Editor of the
Classical Dictionary," " Dictionary of Greek
and Roman Antiquities," &c. Revised, with
an Appendix, by Prof. GEORGE W. GREENE,
A.M. Illustrated by Engravings on Wood.
Large I2mo, 724 pages, Cloth, $2 oo.
e A SMALLER HISTORY OF GREECE:
The above Work abridged for Younger Students and Common Schools. Engravings.
I6mo, 272 pages, Cloth, $I oo.
THE STUDENT'S HISTORY OF ROME.
A History of Rome from the Earliest Times to
the Establishment of the Empire. With Chapters on the History of Literature and Art. By
HENRY G. LIDDELL, D.D., Dean of Christ
Church, Oxford. Illustrated by numerous
Woodcuts. Large I2mo, 778 pages, Cloth,
$2 00oo.
W A SMALLER HISTORY OF ROME,
from the Earliest Times to the Establishment of the Empire. By WILLIAM SMITH,
LL.D. With a Continuation to A.D. 476.
By EUGENE LAWRENCE, A.M. Illustrations. x6mo, Cloth, $i oo.
THE STUDENT'S HISTORY OF FRANCE.
A History of France from the Earliest Times
to the Establishment of the Second Empire in
I852. Illustrated by Engravings on Wood.
Large I2mo, 742 pages, Cloth, $2 oo.


THE STUDENT'S GIBBON. The History
of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.
By EDWARD GIBBON. Abridged. Incorporating the Researches of Recent Commentators. By WILLIAM SMITH, LL.D., Editor of
the "Classical Dictionary," "Dictionary of
Greek and Roman Antiquities," &c. Illustrated by IOO Engravings on Wood. Large
I2mo, 706 pages, Cloth, $2 oo.
THE STUDENT'S HUME. A History of
England from the Earliest Times to the Revolution in I688. By DAVID HUME. Abridged.
Incorporating the Corrections and Researches
of Recent Historians, and continued down to
the Year I858. Illustrated by Engravings
on Wood. Large x2mo, 806 pages, Cloth,
$2 00.
g     A  SMALLER   HISTORY     OF ENGLAND, from the Earliest Times to the
Year 1862. Edited By WILLIAM SMITH,
LL.D. Illustrated by Engravings on Wood.
I6mo, Cloth, $I oo.
THE STUDENT'S QUEENS OFENGLAND.
Lives of the Queens of England. From the
Norman Conquest. By AGNES STRICKLAND.
Abridged by the Author. Revised and Edited
by CAROLINE G. PARKER. I2mo, Cloth, $2 oo.
THE STUDENT'S OLD TESTAMENT
HISTORY, from the Creation to the Return
of the Jews from Captivity. Edited by WILLIAM SMITH, LL.D., Classical Examnuer in
the University of London. With Maps and
Woodcuts. (In Press.)




Harper &6  Brothers' Autumn Book List.


3


Pictorial History of the Great Rebellion.
Harper's Pictorial History of the Rebellion. By ALFRED H. GUERNSEY and
HENRY M. ALDEN.          Complete in Two Volumes, with nearly One Thousand
Illustrations. Quarto, Cloth, $6 oo each.
This work contains 998 Illustrations. Of these 562 are authentic representations of Scenes and
Incidents in the War; 99 Maps and Plans of Battles, among which is a large Colored Map of the
Southern States, showing the position of nearly every place of note, together with the great lines
of communication; and 337 Portraits of persons who have borne a prominent civil or military
part in the war.
I have seen no other History of the Rebellion that  Every thing that relates to the contest is here given
seems to embrace so many admirable qualities as this -military and naval operations, political matters,
does. I wish that so carefully prepared, beautifully financial matters, and so forth-and always in a style
illustrated, and reliable a History of our late Civil that is as clear as it is strong, and with entire imparWar might be placed in the library of every Grammar tiality. The criticisms are sound and weighty, and
and High School and Academy in our country.-ABNER full justice is done to each and every department of
J. PHIPPS, Agent of the Massachusetts State Board of the public service, and to the enemy. The great story
Education.                                      is told with spirit and fidelity, and in a tone that must
This is as valuable a work as ever was compiled on be acceptable to all persons of sound taste.... The
a historical subject.-Zion's Herald.            Pictorial History of the Great Rebellion in no sense deA careful, comprehensive, minute, and graphic pends upon its illustrations for its worth, though they
record of the origin and progress of the war; and in are excellent specimens of the art, and help the reader
the size and beauty of its pages and paper, in the to understand the incidents of the war. The real merprofuseness, costliness, elegance, and completeness its of the work are apart from its engravings. Those
of its illustrations, far exceeding any other history merits are a strong and lucid style, a vast amount of
yet attempted.-New York Observer.               well-digested and well-told information, just and wellA thoroughly well written and complete history of considered criticisms, and impartial statements of all
the great war.-World.                           points about which there are disputes.... Every
Clearly, simply, and impartially written.-London library should have this work, for it is one of singular
Spectator.                                      value as a book of reference, because of its compreMany of its illustrative pictures are the best that we hensiveness as well as accuracy..... As a work of
have seen in such a work; and some of the numerous general reading it is of unsurpassed value. -Boston
portraits of prominent actors in the war are admirable Traveller.
as likenesses and works of art.-London Athenceum.  Full of interesting matter.-London Review.
Bulwer's Prose Works.
The Miscellaneous Prose 'Works of Edward Bulwer, Lord Lytton. In Two
Volumes. i2mo, Cloth, $3 50.
Few books are likely to be more generally popular dimmed by the rise of some of the most brilliant
during the present season than the miscellaneous stars of literature, at a time whentis fame as a writer
works of a statesman, essayist, poet, and novelist had already well nigh reached its zenith. -Athewhose reputation has, scarcely for a moment been sneum.
Harper's Hand-Book for Europe.
Harper's Hand-Book for Travellers in Europe and the East. Being a Guide
through France, Belgium, Holland, Germany, Austria, Italy, Sicily, Egypt,
Syria, Turkey, Switzerland, Greece, Tyrol, Russia, Denmark, Sweden, Spain,
and Great Britain and Ireland. With a Railroad Map corrected up to i868,
and a Map embracing Colored Routes of Travel in the above Countries. By
W. PEMBROKE       FETRIDGE.      Seventh    Year.    Large    i2mo, Leather, PocketBook Form, $7 50.
Barnes's Thirty-ninth Congress.
History of the Thirty-ninth Congress of the United States. By WILLIAM H.
BARNES, M.A., Author of "The Body Politic," &c.             With Eighteen Steel Portraits. 8vo, Cloth, $5 oo.
The reader who wishes for a condensed view of never expanding into irrelevant and tedious verbosity.
the national legislation for the eventful period from  The issue of the work comes at a seasonable moment
December 4, 1865, to March 4, 1867, will find the de- and, without aiming at any partisan objects, it throws
tails of this volume of value and interest. It presents great light on the usurpations of the Executive and
a summary of the debates and their results on the the long-suffering of Congress.-New York Tribune.
prominent bills brought before Congress during that  To the politician and political student the book will
time, connected by a simple thread of narrative, suf- be of the greatest value as a summary and digest of
ficient for the elucidation of the subject in hand, but two years of the national life.-N. Y. Corn. Advertiser.




4


Harper &6 Brothers' Autumn Book List.




Draper's Civil War.
History of the American Civil War. By JOHN WILLIAM DRAPER, M.D.,
LL.D., Professor of Chemistry and Physiology in the University of New
York, Author of a " Treatise on Human Physiology," " History of the Intellectual Development of Europe," " Thoughts on American Civil Policy," &c.
To be completed in three elegant octavo vols., of about 500 pp. each. Vol.
II. just ready. Cloth, Beveled Edges, price $3 50 per volume.
The leading political questions involved in the na-  Dr. Draper is an admirable writer of history. He'
tional legislation for nearly half a century are amply aims to search beneath the surface of things, to deal
discussed, and their influence on recent events is eluci- with the deeper and hidden causes of national prosdated with calmness and impartiality. A certain dra- perity and national disaster. Dr. Draper's idea of
matic aspect is given to the successive steps which history is the true one, and in carrying it out he shows
preceded the Rebellion, from the movement of nullifi- that he has been a careful and laborious student, an
cation to the conflict in Kansas. The novelty of the acute observer, and a dispassionate judge. Philosophvolume consists not so much in the exhibition of facts ical breadth of view, and perfect impartiality in prebefore unknown as in the effective grouping of famil- senting facts, are among the qualifications which
iar events so as to form a grand historical unity.-  should be demanded of him who presumes to write
New York Tribune.                               history; and these are certainly possessed in a high
The style of the author is discriminating, terse, vig- degree by Dr. Draper.-Citizen.
orous, and makes a most pleasing impression on the  One of the most valuable contributions, if not the
mind: now setting forth rich galleries of historic per- most valuable, yet made to the literature of the great
sonages, anon cataloguing mighty events, and setting struggle.-Brooklyn Eagle.
forth their connection and sequences, and always in-  It is animated, picturesque, and eminently attractvesting his theme with strong human sympathies.- ive in style. He admirably condenses the narrative of
Rittsburg Christian Advocate.                   events bearing upon our great national struggle, givWith a fluent eloquence, a vast array of facts, a lucid ing each its due prominence, and sketching with
arrangement, and an argumentative skill, the problem  graphic effect those which had the most marked inof the civil war is solved as an event born of numerous fluence in hastening the crisis; and weaves in with
antecedent causes: its principles are laid bare, and we this the argument of the work with a skill that leads
have what can not fail to heal and harmonize-because each to aid the interest of the other.-Roxbury Jourto enlighten and elevate-a philosophical history of nal.
the Southern Rebellion.-Boston Transcript.        Dr. Draper has great dramatic powers, and his hisProfessor Draper treats of the causes of our late civil torical pictures are always finely colored. They are
war with great clearness, and in that wise spirit of not sensational battle-pieces and personal situations
philosophy and patriotic statesmanship for which he merely; but they contain a profound philosophical
is distinguished. We have not in a long time looked suggestiveness, bringing out by their skillful contrasts
into a book containing so much of pure intellect as and delicate light and shade the inner meanings of
this.-Congressional Globe.                      history, and attempting the solution of the great huVery interesting and suggestive, and contains many man problems that agitate the world, and are connew and valuable ideas, and the calm, philosophical stantly upheaving, destroying, emerging from, and astone that pervades it renders it doubly enjoyable and similating old and new forms of social, civil, and povaluable.-Congregationalist and Recorder.       litical life.-Detroit Post.
Mace's Physiology for the Young.
The History of a Mouthful of Bread, and its Effect on the Organization of
Men and Animals. By JEAN MACE. Translated from the Eighth French
Edition by Mrs. ALFRED GATTY. i2mo, Cloth, $I 75.
The Servants of the Stomach. By JEAN MACE, Author of "The History of
a Mouthful of Bread," " Home Fairy Tales," &c., &c. Reprinted from the
London Edition, Revised and Corrected. i2mo, Cloth, $i 75.
They are written in the form of letters to a child,  These volumes present important facts in physioloand disclose, in a style wondrously clear and fascinat- gy, in a form at once interesting and fascinating, and
ing, the hidden wonders of the phenomena of life, the with a clearness of diction that is remarkable.-New
processes by which physical existence is preserved, York Commercial.
and mental power and activity maintained. They    We doubt if two such fascinating and profitable
compose a complete elementary treatise on physiolo- volumes on popular Physiology were ever before writgy, which will be read by a healthy child of eight ten. The author's style is beautiful and quaint-his
years with more pleasure than the Arabian Nights, very quaintness giving the whole a peculiar charm,
and with as great advantage as the boy of twice that and enabling him to present facts and illustrations
age, previously uninformed on the subject, will pursue with rare force. He combines knowledge, and enterthe study at school.-Methodist.                 tainment, and wholesome advice, with consummate
Get these two books for your boys and girls, and skill, and makes the whole range of physiological subyou'll have a family struggle, yourselves included, as jects read more like a pleasant romance than a wearyto who shall have the first reading.-Zion's Herald.  ing science.-Physio-Medical Recorder.
The "History of a Mouthful of Bread" is more sim-  In these two volumes important physiological facts
ple in its style than the "Servants of the Stomach," and principles are presented to the youthful mind in a
which is designed to follow the former, and develops form so lucid and fascinating that the process of maswith wonderful clearness the leading facts of human tering them is literally one of "smoothness and deanatomy.. Besides their value as primary text books light."-Boston Transcript.
of science, they abound in useful hints for the preser-  Something superior and rare in juvenile literature.
vation of health, and are pervaded by a healthy moral -Observer.
and religious sentiment. —Evening Post.