FREDERICK WARDE
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 'Y YEAR? OF AVAKE BELI
 
 FIFTY YEARS 
 
 OF 
 MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 BY FREDERICK WARDE 
 
 Actor of Many Parts, and Author of 
 "The Fools of Shakespeare" 
 
 " Words spoken are but air, vaords written, ink and paper" 
 
 (Henry Guy Carleton.) 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 THE INTERNATIONAL PRESS SYNDICATE 
 
 (MILFORD M. MARCY) 
 
 TRIBUNE BUILDING NEW YORK CITY 
 1920
 
 COPYRIGHT, 
 BY FREDERICK WARDB 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
 
 College 
 Library 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Chapter Page 
 
 I The Attraction of the Stage ...... 9 
 
 II First Appearance as an Actor ...... 21 
 
 III Experiences in a Provincial Stock Company . 34 
 
 IV Varied Experiences of Good and Bad Fortune . 46 
 V Progress and Promotion ...... . . 69 
 
 VI Shakespearean Ambitions. American in Pros- 
 
 pect ............. 71 
 
 VII My Arrival and First Experiences in America . 83 
 
 VIII A Season of Important Productions and Dis- 
 
 tinguished Successes ........ 96 
 
 IX I Meet Edwin Booth, America's Greatest Actor . 109 
 
 X Tour of the South with Edwin Booth ... 122 
 
 XI A Return to Booth's Theatre, New York . . 136 
 
 XII The Last Days of Booth's Theatre .... 146 
 
 XIII First Visit to California ........ 169 
 
 XIV The Warde-Barrymore Diplomacy Company . 172 
 XV The First of Many Visits to Texas .... 188 
 
 XVI First Experience as a "Star" ...... 203 
 
 XVII I Visit Many Places and Meet Many People . 220 
 
 XVIII The Genesis of the Warde-James Combination 236 
 
 XIX King Lear ............ 262 
 
 XX Renewed Association with an Old Comrade . 267 
 
 XXI The Chautauqua and Lyceum Platforms . . 282 
 
 XXII Close of the Story ......... 298
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 1 Frederick Warde Frontispiece 
 
 Facing 
 Page 
 
 2 Samuel Phelps as Cardinal Wolsey 16 
 
 3 Adelaide Neilson 21 
 
 4 John McCullough 28 
 
 5 H. J. Montague as Capt. Molyneux in "The Shaugh- 
 
 ran" 33 
 
 6 Charlotte Cushman 48 
 
 7 George Rignold as Henry V 53 
 
 8 Adelaide Neilson as Juliet 60 
 
 9 Edwin Booth 66 
 
 10 Edwin Booth 80 
 
 11 Frederick Warde as lago 85 
 
 12 Edwin Booth as Richelieu 92 
 
 13 E. L. Davenport as Brutus in "Julius Csesar" . . 97 
 
 14 Lawrence Barrett 112 
 
 15 Frederick Warde in 1876 as the Young Englishman 
 
 in "Fifth Avenue" 117 
 
 16 Marie Wainwright 124 
 
 17 H. J. Montague 129 
 
 18 H. J. Montague and His New York Company in .j 
 
 "Diplomacy" Playing in San Francisco . . . 144 
 
 19 Maurice Barrymore 149 
 
 20 John McCullough as Othello 158 
 
 21 Frederick Warde as Brutus in "Julius Caesar" . . 161 
 
 22 Frederick Warde as Hamlet 176 
 
 V
 
 vi LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Fac* 
 Page 
 
 23 Lillian Russell 181 
 
 24 Frederick Warde as Prospero in "The Tempest" . 188 
 
 25 Mrs. D. P. Bowers as the Duchess in "Lady Winde- 
 
 mere's Fan" 193 
 
 26 Louis James 208 
 
 27 Louis James as Falstaff 213 
 
 28 Frederick Warde and His Son Ernest as King Lear 
 
 and His Fool 220 
 
 29 Ernest Warde as the Fool in "Kin? Lear" . . . 241 
 
 30 Louis James as Calaban in "The Tempest" . . 256 
 
 31 Frederick Warde as Timon of Athens .... 273 
 
 32 Frederick Warde as Fray Junipero Serra, Founder of 
 
 the Missions in the "Mission Flay" .... 288
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Fifty years? Impossible! Fifty years in the 
 " world of make-believe," as I have heard it 
 called. But it is not a world of make-believe, this 
 world of the stage; it is a world of stern reali- 
 ties; a world of work, of struggle, effort, study, 
 gain, loss, failure and of success. A human world 
 of strength and of weakness; a world beautified by 
 imagination, illuminated by fancy and glorified by 
 truth. A world of tender sympathies, generous 
 thoughts and close fellowship. A world where the 
 seed is sown in youth, nourished in manhood, and 
 harvested in maturity in sweet recollections and 
 gentle memories nothing more! Yet no other 
 world can furnish such a wealth of compensation. 
 
 Such has been my world, and as, in retrospect, 
 I look back over the bygone years, I see the faces 
 that have passed, I hear the voices that are stilled, 
 and live again in scenes of other days, some bright 
 with hope and pleasure, some saddened by pain 
 and disappointment, but all mellowed by the ripen- 
 ing hand of time and stored away in the chambers 
 of fondest memory.
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE- 
 BELIEVE 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The Attraction of the Stage. 
 
 When or how the desire to become an actor first 
 took possession of me I do not recall. It cer- 
 tainly was not heredity, either by taste or by in- 
 clination. My father was a country schoolmaster, 
 descended from a long line of English yeomen, 
 and my mother came from the same rugged stock. 
 
 Our home was in the comparatively small vil- 
 lage of Deddington in Oxfordshire, one of the mid- 
 land counties of England, and there I was born on 
 the 23rd of February, 1851. 
 
 My father died when I was quite young and my 
 mother moved to Sussex, a southern county some 
 distance from our old home, but where our asso- 
 ciations and environments were similar to those 
 we had previously enjoyed. The village curate, 
 the doctor and the lawyer, were our friends and 
 neighbors; and our life that of a quiet country 
 house, where, to quote the words of Jerome K. 
 Jerome, "The whiff and whirl of the busy world 
 sounded far off and faint."
 
 10 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 From these pleasant surroundings, I was sent, 
 when still very young, to the "Shoreham Protes- 
 tant Grammar School," where I was a resident 
 scholar for three years. It was an institution, 
 with about one hundred pupils of ages varying 
 from eight to eighteen years. Our study hall, dor- 
 mitories and play grounds were extensive, our 
 good old principal, Doctor Harper, was a sound 
 scholar, a genial gentleman and a conscientious 
 preceptor. 
 
 There was another school in the town, a Jesuit 
 institution, and between the pupils of the two 
 schools existed a bitter rivalry. They were known 
 as the Puseys (Puseyites) , we as the Prots (Prot- 
 estants) . Whenever we met out of bounds it was 
 our duty to fight. "Lick, or be licked" was our 
 school cry, and we lived up to it. 
 
 Of course such a condition could not receive 
 the recognition of the authorities of either school, 
 but the explanation of a discolored optic, or a 
 swollen lip at roll-call or prayers usually received 
 but slight reproof. 
 
 The curriculum of the juvenile department em- 
 braced a substantial course in elementary educa- 
 tionEnglish and a rudimentary course of the 
 classics. 
 
 The only recollection I have of any dramatic 
 literature or instruction, was a single visit of the 
 Rev. J. M. Bellew (father of the popular actor, the 
 late Mr. Kyrle Bellew) , who gave us a reading of 
 Shakespeare's play of Henry the Fifth. I was 
 too young at the time to appreciate the play or.
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 11 
 
 the skill of the distinguished gentleman in pre- 
 senting it; but I distinctly remember being greatly 
 impressed by the flowing hair that looked to me 
 like waves of molten silver the dignified bearing 
 and the clear enunciation of the reader. 
 
 During the Christmas holidays of my last year 
 at Shoreham I accompanied my mother on a visit 
 to London, and during that visit I was taken by 
 her to see the late Charles Kean's production of 
 Hamlet, at the Princess's Theatre. My dear 
 mother's ideas of the drama were vague, and her 
 knowledge of the theatre limited. She thought 
 that any play in a theatre would be of interest 
 and entertainment to me, and I recall the pleasur- 
 able anticipation of several days between the pur- 
 chase of the seats and the evening's performance. 
 But Hamlet, "to a boy ten years of age, is hardly 
 calculated to arouse enthusiasm; and my ideas of 
 the drama when I left the theatre were that it 
 consisted of long speeches, indiscriminate assas- 
 sinations and funeral processions. 
 
 My impressions were admirably expressed some 
 years later by a Scotch landlady with whom I 
 lodged in Glasgow. I had obtained for her a pass 
 to see the late Mr. Samuel Phelps in the character 
 of Hamlet at the Theatre Royal. The following 
 morning as she was serving my breakfast I in- 
 quired: 
 
 "Well, Mrs. McFarland, how did you like the 
 play last night?" 
 
 "Weel, Mr. Warde," replied Mrs. Mac., "I 
 lik-ed the play verra weel, with the seengle excep-
 
 12 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 tion of the gentleman in black (Hamlet) , who went 
 aboot preechin' ower muckle." 
 
 My mother's removal to London as a permanent 
 residence shortly after my first visit to the theatre 
 took me there also; and I became a student at the 
 City of London School, a public institution 
 founded by King Edward VI, and controlled by 
 the Lord Mayor and the corporation of the city. 
 
 Our residence, during that time, was in Isling- 
 ton, in the northern part of the town, and in the 
 neighborhood of Sadler's Wells Theatre, one of 
 the oldest playhouses in London; and to it I be- 
 came as frequent a visitor as my mother's reluc- 
 tantly given consent and my limited pocket money 
 would allow. 
 
 At Sadler's Wells, the dressing rooms for the 
 actors (as I discovered by personal experience 
 some years later) were on an upper floor, the stair- 
 case to which was visible from the windows facing 
 an open space that enclosed the theatre. Many an 
 evening, when my means were insufficient to pay 
 for admission to the play, I have stood and long- 
 ingly watched the actors in their costumes, going 
 up and coming down the stairs to and from their 
 dressing rooms. 
 
 During this period Sadler's Wells was under 
 various managements ; notably Mr. Samuel Phelps, 
 the great tragedian, one of the last survivors of 
 the Macready school, and perhaps the most highly 
 esteemed Shakespearean actor of his time, and 
 whose classic revivals marked the most interesting 
 period in the history of the English theatre.
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 13 
 
 Among Mr. Phelps' company I remember Mr. 
 Frederick Robinson as a handsome and dashing* 
 young actor, and whom I later had the pleasure 'of 
 meeting as a popular member of the company of 
 Lester Wallack, in this country. Subsequently he 
 appeared at the Union Square Theatre as Jim the 
 Penman in the celebrated drama of that name. 
 
 "The Wells," as the theatre was popularly 
 called, was managed for a time by Miss Catherine 
 Lucette and Capt. Morton Price, the former a 
 beautiful woman and a very accomplished actress, 
 and the latter a graceful, romantic actor. In their 
 company was Mr. Lewis Ball, a comedian, the fun- 
 niest man I had ever seen, and Miss Emily Dowton, 
 a charming comedienne, with whom I fell desper- 
 ately in love, only to later learn that she was 
 already married and the mother of a considerable 
 family. 
 
 I remained at school until I was fourteen years 
 of age, and after a period of special tuition and 
 study to prepare for my preliminary examination 
 was articled to a firm of attorneys in East India 
 Chambers, Leadenhall street, London, to study the 
 abstruse science and practice of the law. 
 
 My preceptor or principal was an elderly gen- 
 tleman of the old school, learned, experienced, and 
 a strict disciplinarian; very conservative in his 
 ideas, opposed to modern innovations, and a stick- 
 ler for the etiquette and dignity of his profession. 
 
 He never used a steel pen, but wrote with a 
 goose quill, which he skilfully fashioned into shape 
 with his pocket knife. His hair was bushy and
 
 14 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 white, with the exception of a narrow streak over 
 his right ear where he wiped the point of his pen; 
 and that was jet black. 
 
 All of our documents, drafts and briefs were 
 then written in longhand with a pen, and our deeds 
 were engrossed on parchment. 
 
 With new duties, studies and attendance at the 
 office my thoughts were diverted for a time from 
 the theatre and its fascinations. One day, by the 
 merest accident, I picked up a small pamphlet 
 published in the interest of amateur theatricals, 
 and found an advertisement of a club that was 
 being formed for the purpose of presenting gen- 
 teel comedies and burlesques, and I joined. Most 
 of the members were clerks ; young men of limited 
 means, like myself. The female parts were played 
 by professional ladies, especially engaged. I dis- 
 covered later that the club was merely a financial 
 enterprise on the part of the director, who was 
 an actor of no especial standing, out of an engage- 
 ment. He was assisted by his wife, who was a 
 burlesque actress, also disengaged, and who re- 
 joiced in the pseudonym of Evangeline De Vere. 
 
 As a consequence, the parts in the plays to be 
 presented were not distributed or cast according 
 to merit or ability, but the member of the club 
 who purchased the largest number of tickets for 
 the performance was given the choice of parts. 
 A generous allowance of pocket money by my 
 mother and the temporary hypothecation of some 
 luxuries enabled me to obtain a portion of this 
 privilege, for another fellow bought the privilege
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 15 
 
 for the opening comedy, in which I did not appear. 
 
 The piece de resistance of the evening was a 
 burlesque of Ernani, and I selected the part of 
 "Scampa, a scamp," that in a professional per- 
 formance would have been cast to the leading co- 
 median. My ability as a dancer was limited to the 
 waltz and quadrille of polite society. I could not 
 sing, and I had no knowledge of stage business; 
 so the effect of my performance can be better 
 imagined than described. 
 
 My family knew nothing of my membership in 
 this dramatic club, nor did I acquaint them with 
 the fact of my forthcoming debut upon the stage, 
 and for reasons of prudence I concealed the fact 
 from my fellow students and friends; so that criti- 
 cism of my maiden effort was limited to my asso- 
 ciates in the club, and I must admit that the con- 
 sensus of their opinion was not favorable. How- 
 ever, I was not to be discouraged. 
 
 The manager of our club had been assisted at 
 rehearsals by an old actor who was also assistant 
 prompter at the Royalty Theatre, one of the then 
 popular burlesque theatres of London, and to him 
 I confided my desire to appear upon the real stage. 
 For a consideration the old prompter permitted 
 me to go on as a supernumerary in the burlesque 
 of Black-eyed Susan, which was then in the height 
 of its long and successful run at the "Little House 
 in Soho," as the Royalty Theatre was affection- 
 ately termed. 
 
 For the first time I entered the stage door of a 
 regular theatre. The dark passage to the stage,
 
 16 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 the dimly lighted stage itself, with a few ghostly 
 figures moving about setting the scenery, the plain, 
 matter-of-fact dressing rooms, and then the bril- 
 liancy of the stage, the lights in full, the perform- 
 ance in progress and the audience assembled! It 
 was a sensation I never shall forget. In the first 
 act of the burlesque I appeared as a marine at 
 the window of Dame Hatley's cottage and pointed 
 a wooden musket at the hero. In the second I 
 rose to the rank and dignity of an admiral and 
 sat at a table as a silent member of a court martial. 
 
 I cannot now recall all the members of that com- 
 pany, but they were great favorites in London at 
 that time. There was Miss Patty Oliver, the man- 
 ager of the theatre, the chic and pretty represen- 
 tative of "Susan that married William" ; Mr. Fred 
 Dewar, the original of the part of Captain Cross- 
 tree, afterward so successfully played by our own 
 comedian Mr. Stuart Robson in this country, and 
 Mr. E. D. Danvers in his inimitable performance 
 of Dame Hatley. 
 
 The last curtain has fallen on all of them now, 
 but memory pleasantly lingers with the first real 
 actors I ever met, heroes of my youthful enthusi- 
 asm, popular favorites with the public and ear- 
 nest, genial, whole-souled men and women in pri- 
 vate life. 
 
 My experience at the Royalty Theatre continued 
 several weeks, unknown to my family or to my 
 legal preceptor. My hours of attendance at the 
 office were from ten in the morning until six in the 
 evening, so that I had ample time to get to the
 
 Samuel Phelps as Cardinal Wolsey
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 17 
 
 theatre and dress for the after-piece. But my 
 late hours began to attract the attention of my 
 mother, and the consequent fatigue and lack of 
 interest in my reading and study called forth sev- 
 eral well-merited reproofs from my principal. 
 
 Giving the matter what I then conceived to be 
 careful consideration, I determined to sacrifice my 
 articles of indenture, abandon the study of the 
 law and adopt the stage as a profession. 
 
 Mr. Danvers, mentioned above, in addition to- 
 being the comedian of the Royalty Theatre, was a 
 dramatic agent as well, and to him I went for 
 advice and assistance. He warned me against the 
 dangers, temptations and vicissitudes of an actor's 
 life; but, finding that I was persistent in my de- 
 termination, finally consented to procure a place 
 for me. It was then early in August and com- 
 panies were being engaged for the winter season 
 at the provincial theatres, so I was engaged for 
 the stock company at the Lyceum Theatre, Sun- 
 derland, to play "General Utility" at a salary of 
 fifteen shillings per week. 
 
 To avoid having to make an explanation of the 
 late hours I was compelled to keep by my work 
 at the Royalty Theatre, I had induced my mother 
 to consent to my sharing the lodging of a fellow 
 student in a distant part of the town, and I was 
 thus enabled to make my preparations and leave 
 London without her knowledge. 
 
 One evening, late in August, I drove down to 
 the Great Northern Railway station with my lug- 
 gage, passing my home on the way. My mother
 
 18 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 was at the window. She could not see me, but I 
 saw her, and for a moment was tempted to stop 
 the cab, abandon my dramatic ambitions and fol- 
 low the course her love and sacrifice had laid out 
 for me; but the opportunity passed and I went on 
 my way. 
 
 I had traveled little, the journey was long and 
 tedious, and I tried to sleep; but my thoughts 
 would continually revert to my mother's face at 
 the window and the gravity of the step I was tak- 
 ing. I was barely seventeen years old, an un- 
 sophisticated, inexperienced boy, and as I look 
 back now over fifty years of time I am amazed at 
 the audacity and folly of that act. My mother 
 had paid a large amount of money, which she 
 could ill afford, to the firm with which I was arti- 
 cled; a considerable sum for books and examina- 
 tion fees, had supplied me liberally with clothes 
 and pocket money for years, and I was ungrate- 
 fully throwing it all away to enter upon a life and 
 a profession of which I knew little or nothing and 
 which stood in no favor in my native land. 
 
 Sunderland was and is today a small seaport 
 town on the north east coast of England. I ar- 
 rived in the early morning. I was a complete 
 stranger, so I went to the principal hotel. I was 
 received with the obsequious deference character- 
 istic of English hotel servants and shown to my 
 room by the porter, who was particularly deferen- 
 tial. 
 
 The greater part of my luggage I had brought 
 with me on the cab, but I had left a case of swords
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE li 
 
 at the station. On mentioning this fact to the 
 porter, he inquired if I would not prefer to have 
 them sent directly to the barracks. I did not 
 understand him at first, but finally discovered 
 that he thought me a young officer of the army as- 
 signed to the local garrison. When I told him 
 I was an actor, about to join the company at the 
 Lyceum Theatre, his demeanor changed, and I 
 realized that my chosen profession was not held in 
 high esteem, at least by hotel porters in the north 
 of England. 
 
 My stay at the hotel was brief as it was expen- 
 sive and I found lodgings more in keeping with my 
 limited means, and went to the theatre to the 
 meeting of the company called for that morning. 
 
 I approached the theatre, a presentable looking 
 building, with some trepidation. I read the bills 
 announcing the opening with interest, and was 
 very proud when I found my own name (Mr. F. B. 
 Warde) among the list of the company. As this 
 was the first time I had ever seen my name in 
 print I was somewhat elated. I forgot my trepi- 
 dation and sought and found the stage door with 
 renewed confidence. 
 
 The stage doorkeeper was an old man with a 
 ruddy face, full of humor but with an affectation 
 of severity. I learned later that he had been an 
 actor, had met with an accident, lost one of his 
 hands, which had been replaced by a steel hook 
 and which led to the soubriquet of "Mat the Iron 
 Hand." 
 
 He regarded me with some curiosity, for I had
 
 20 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 dressed myself with care and my clothes were 
 fashionable and well made an unusual condition 
 for a provincial actor. He grinned when I said I 
 was an actor, but admitted me when I gave my 
 name with both initials as it appeared on the bill 
 boards. I followed a dark passage which ran by 
 the side of the theatre and entered my new world! 
 I passed with some hesitation through the wings 
 and found myself on the stage, as a professional 
 actor, for the first time, and my "world of make- 
 believe' ' opened before me.
 
 fc-v
 
 Adelaide Neilson
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 First Appearance as an Actor. 
 
 The company was assembled on the stage, stand- 
 ing in little groups, conversing, greeting old ac- 
 quaintances and curiously observing their new 
 surroundings. Finding no encouragement to 
 speak to any of them, I retired into the compara- 
 tive privacy of the wings and awaited develop- 
 ments. 
 
 The front of the house was like a dark cavern, 
 but a standing pipe with a cross piece of gas jets 
 like the letter T was attached to the footlights, 
 and this gave a fairly good light on the stage it- 
 self. Near this pipe, in the center, was a table, 
 which I subsequently learned was called the 
 "Prompt Table," and was as sacred as a shrine. 
 No one but the manager, stage manager or 
 prompter were permitted to sit there, or to ap- 
 proach it, without permission, unless for very im- 
 portant business. 
 
 Punctually at ten o'clock, the manager, Mr. 
 Clarence Holt, his wife, son and daughter came, 
 upon the stage; and shortly thereafter the promp- 
 ter called: "All the ladies and gentlemen of the 
 company to the front of the stage, please!" 
 
 21
 
 22 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 The company gathered in a semi-circle at the 
 prompt table and the formal business of the sea- 
 son began. 
 
 Mr. Holt first presented Mrs. Holt, his son and 
 daughter to the assembled company; then each 
 member to the other until we had all been intro- 
 duced to one another. The stage manager was 
 then presented, his position and authority defined 
 with a request that we at all times follow his 
 directions and implicitly obey his instructions. 
 These proceedings were conducted with extreme 
 politeness and were a most interesting and in- 
 structive object lesson in professional courtesy. 
 
 Clarence Holt was a serious tragedian of the 
 so-called old school, a type made familiar to thea- 
 tre-goers by the late E. A. Sothern in his comedy, 
 The Crushed Tragedian. He has bushy, black 
 hair and a heavy, black moustache which was not 
 permitted to attain its normal length, but was 
 clipped short that it might not impede his voice, 
 which was exceedingly sonorous and clear. 
 
 At rehearsal and during the performance, in 
 fact at all times in the theatre, Mr. Holt was very 
 dignified; but outside he assumed a jaunty, devil- 
 may-care manner entirely foreign to his profes- 
 sional self. 
 
 This was particularly indicated by the way in 
 which he wore his hat, a tall, white one with a 
 black band. In the theatre it was worn straight 
 upon his head, but outside it was cocked at an an- 
 gle that seemed to say: ' 'I may be a tragedian on 
 the stage, but I'm a devil of a good fellow off it."
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 23 
 
 So he was. He had traveled much and his for- 
 tunes had been varied, but success had not spoiled 
 him nor adversity soured a naturally kind heart 
 and buoyant disposition. 
 
 As I recall his work he acted upon conventional 
 lines with more than average intelligence, was at 
 all times earnest and sincere but very eccentric. 
 If any noise or disturbance occurred in the front 
 of the house he would drop his character and ad- 
 dress the audience. 
 
 One evening while playing Cardinal Richelieu, 
 he espied a man in the gallery smoking a pipe; he 
 immediately drew himself up to his full height 
 and, pointing to the man, exclaimed in his natu- 
 rally heavy tragic voice: "Put that pipe out, sir; 
 I don't allow smoking in my theatre." Then he 
 resumed the bent form and voice of the old French 
 statesman." 
 
 On another occasion, Mr. Holt was playing Ham- 
 let. Two sailors were sitting in the front row of 
 the Pit, near the stage; they had evidently been 
 drinking heavily and had fallen asleep. During 
 the delivery of the famous soliloquy commencing: 
 "To be, or not to be," one of the sailors awoke 
 and, hearing Mr. Holt's rather monotonous tones 
 in this somewhat lengthy self-communion, good- 
 naturedly suggested : " Oh ! sing us a comic song. ' ' 
 Mr. Holt indignantly answered : "I will not, sir ! ' ' 
 to which the sailor promptly replied : ' ' Then go to 
 hell!" and resumed his slumber. 
 
 To return to the managerial family. Mrs. Holt, 
 who played the opposite parts to her husband, was
 
 24 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 tall and angular. She moved with great dignity 
 and took life and herself most seriously. 
 
 Miss May Holt was the antithesis of her mother, 
 up to date, young, more than pretty and with 
 advanced ideas on the conduct of woman. She 
 read French novels, smoked cigarettes on the sly 
 and played the principal "boy's parts" in bur- 
 lesque. 
 
 Joe, or Bland Holt, her brother, was a young 
 fellow about my own age, and like myself about 
 to make his debut on the stage. 
 
 The company were men and women of diverse 
 characteristics and ability, but all earnest and 
 sincere in their profession. 
 
 In those days the old system of lines of business 
 was strictly adhered to, so we had our leading man 
 and leading lady, the juvenile or second lady, the 
 first and second chambermaids, as the soubrettes 
 were then called; the first and second old women 
 and several utility ladies. In addition to our lead- 
 ing man we had a juvenile and light comedian, a 
 heavy man, first and second low comedians, first 
 and second old men, two walking gentlemen and 
 several responsible utility men. 
 
 From this it will be seen that, with the addition 
 of the manager and his family, we were numer- 
 ically strong enough to play almost any tragedy, 
 comedy or drama that might be selected. 
 
 We also had a stage manager who sometimes 
 acted; a prompter, a call-boy and a dancing mas- 
 ter, who instructed us in dancing and played 
 Harlequin in the Christmas pantomime.
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF. MAKE-BELIEVE 25 
 
 After the ceremony of introduction Mr. Holt 
 informed us that the season would begin on Satur- 
 day night with a performance of Macbeth, and 
 that on Monday a new version of Victor Hugo's 
 "Les Miserables," adapted by himself and called 
 "Out of Evil Cometh Good," would be produced. 
 This announcement caused considerable interest 
 among the company, and much curious inquiry 
 each to the other as to the characters of the new 
 play, for it was evident the distinguished French 
 author and novel were unknown to most of them. 
 
 One of the men, a rather stout young fellow 
 with a serious face, asked me if I knew anything 
 of the book. I acknowledged that I had read it. 
 The statement aroused considerable interest in 
 me, and several of the company questioned me as 
 to the character of the book and the leading parts 
 in it. I briefly described it and mentioned the 
 characters of Jean Valjean, Javert, Cosette, Fan- 
 tine, etc. 
 
 A mature lady in a poke bonnet and with much 
 jewelry eagerly inquired: "Is there any first old 
 woman in the book?" I did not quite understand 
 this question, but I afterward found out that this 
 lady, to whom I was subsequently indebted for 
 much kindness and many useful suggestions, held 
 the position of "First Old Woman" in the com-, 
 pany and that her anxiety was to know the nature 
 of her part, if any, in the new play, to find out if 
 she could wear her stage jewels and old laces, of 
 which she possessed quite a large collection, and 
 which she wore upon all possible occasions.
 
 26 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 The old lady's curiosity, however, was silenced 
 by the announcement from the prompt table that 
 we would at once proceed to rehearse Macbeth, 
 after which Mr. Holt would read the new play to 
 us in the Green Room. 
 
 The cast of Macbeth was then read, and I found 
 myself cast for the part of the second murderer, 
 the part of the first murderer being allotted to Joe 
 Holt, the manager's son. 
 
 I learned that the casting of a standard play 
 was a mere matter of form to the principals of 
 the company who knew what parts would be as- 
 signed to them, but a source of great anxiety to 
 the lesser members, and not infrequently the sub- 
 ject of disagreeable discussions with the manage- 
 ment. 
 
 On the present occasion the young man who was 
 cast for the part of the Thane of Rosse protested 
 energetically to the management that he was en- 
 titled to the part of Malcolm. The management 
 thought otherwise and a lively colloquy ensued. 
 I did not hear the beginning of the argument, but 
 the concluding dialogue ran somewhat as follows: 
 
 Manager: You play the part of Rosse! 
 Actor : I do not play Rosse. 
 Manager: Then you leave the company! 
 Actor: Then I do play Rosse! 
 
 And he did. 
 
 The rehearsal of Macbeth proceeded. It was 
 another new experience and somewhat of a revela-
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 27 
 
 tion. Two of the three witches were played by 
 men, the first old man and the first comedian; 
 only the third witch was played by a woman. 
 All of the principals were familiar with their parts 
 and movements. They did not speak their lines, 
 but came down to cues. They came on the stage, 
 crossed and re-crossed each other as the business 
 of the scene demanded, with an ease and confi- 
 dence begotten of experience. 
 
 Mr. Holt was, of course, Macbeth, but he had lit- 
 tle or no instruction to give the principals, as his 
 business and movements were conventional with 
 the traditions of the part. Mrs. Holt, however, as 
 Lady Macbeth, spoke all of her lines and carefully 
 went through all of the business to the annoyance 
 of the principals, and in spite of the somewhat im- 
 patient protests of Mr. Holt, who was anxious to 
 get to the reading of the new play. 
 
 Miss May Holt played the part of Hecate, and 
 all of the company, without exception, went on in 
 the witch scenes and sang Locke's music, which 
 was always used in the play in those days. 
 
 The time for my entrance, with my associate 
 murderer, came at last. I did not know the words, 
 and had no part, so I was handed a small book 
 with a dilapidated paper cover and told to read 
 the lines. Being horribly nervous, in a dim im- 
 perfect light, I must have made sad havoc with 
 the text of Shakespeare, with which I must 
 admit I was not familiar. The eye and ear of 
 every member of the company seemed to be con- 
 centrated on me. The stage manager was some-
 
 28 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 what impatient, but Mr. Holt was kindly indulgent 
 and assisted me to stutter, stammer and stag- 
 ger through the lines in some fashion, and I 
 left the stage feeling myself to be a miserable 
 failure. I was shamed and humiliated at my ap- 
 parent ignorance and stupidity. I was inclined to 
 run out of the stage door and trust to luck to get 
 back home, when the leading man, who was to play 
 Macduff, came over to me and, after introducing 
 himself with gentle courtesy, suggested that if I 
 pleased he would read the part over for me and 
 tell me what to do in the scene. His manner and 
 speech were so kindly that I gratefully accepted 
 his offer, which I afterward found to be but a 
 single instance of the general interest and instruc- 
 tion which not only he, but all of the principals, 
 gave to the subordinate members of the company. 
 
 My second and only other scene I got through 
 better, and without any special incident the re- 
 hearsal came to an end. 
 
 We then adjourned to the Green Room, where 
 the new play was to be read to us. This proved to 
 be a very solemn proceeding. 
 
 A table and chairs were placed in one corner 
 of the room for Mr. Holt and his family, and other 
 chairs in a semi-circle facing them, for the com- 
 pany. It was the first time I had attended such a 
 function, and the demeanor of the reader and the 
 company interested me greatly. Mr. Holt read 
 with the pride of authorship, especially emphasiz- 
 ing the dramatic points, while the company as- 
 sumed an attitude of critical wisdom.
 
 John McCullough
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 29 
 
 I learned later on that the paramount interest 
 of the company was not in the play, but the dra- 
 matic value of the characters that would be as- 
 signed to them. 
 
 The reading done and the author, of course, con- 
 gratulated, the parts were distributed with more 
 or less satisfaction to the recipients and we were 
 dismissed for the day. 
 
 Before leaving London I had been induced by 
 an old actor to buy his wardrobe, as he then had 
 no use for it and needed the money. He had en- 
 larged upon its value and service to me and, as I 
 remember, I paid him five pounds for it. It con- 
 sisted of several pairs of worsted tights of various 
 colors, some shoes and boots of different periods, 
 a few wigs and several fragments of costumes, 
 all considerably worn but serviceable still if ar- 
 ranged with ingenuity, an accomplishment I found 
 to be possessed by most of the actors and one 
 which I speedily found it necessary to acquire my- 
 self. 
 
 All costumes, except for strictly modern plays, 
 were provided by the management, the actor fur- 
 nishing only his tights, shoes, wigs, linen, laces, 
 etc. 
 
 The wardrobe at Sunderland was owned by an 
 old Scotchman who traveled with it as stock in 
 trade from place to place, and engaged himself to 
 provide the costumes for the theatre for a season 
 on the basis of a weekly salary. 
 
 The old Scotchman, I think his name was Mc- 
 Dougal at any rate he was very proud of his
 
 30 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 name spoke with a strong accent, wore a Glen- 
 garry cap at all times to conceal his baldness, and 
 never for a moment permitted you to forget the 
 distinction of his name and nationality. 
 
 He had studied national and medieval costumes, 
 at least he said he had. He also said that he had 
 made all of his stock in trade with his own hands, 
 a fact of which I had no doubt, for most of his pet 
 dresses and he had his pets were fearfully and 
 wonderfully made. He was very religious, could 
 quote Scripture, didn't smoke, but took snuff con- 
 stantly, and the greatest compliment he could pay 
 you as an evidence of his appreciation was a pinch 
 of his favorite rappee. 
 
 Before warned of the old fellow's character- 
 istics, I approached him with deference and asked 
 for the costume of the second murderer. He 
 looked at me with some curiosity and said: "Ye're 
 a pretty frail bit of a body to play sic ana part as 
 the murderer. Ye should be a mon o' maturity." 
 
 This was rather discouraging, but I assured 
 him I would try and assume those conditions. 
 He then told me I would have to bare my arms, 
 and asked to see them. I took off my coat and 
 rolled up my sleeves, when he exclaimed, " Saints 
 alive, they're naught but pipe stems!" 
 
 It was unfortunately true, but, I suggested they 
 might be concealed.. "Weel a weel, I'll aid ye 
 if I can," he responded and selected a skirted 
 garment of a rough brown material which he 
 called a shirt and a shapeless piece of cloth 
 which he instructed me to drape at my back like a
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 31 
 
 cloak. He also gave me a Scotch bonnet. I was 
 to wear a pair of flesh-colored tights and sandals 
 with cloth or braid garterings to the knee, some- 
 thing like the puttee of our modern soldier. He 
 also furnished me with a gray domino and hood, 
 with which articles I was to cover the costume to 
 appear as a witch. 
 
 Thus equipped, I awaited with increasing anxi- 
 ety and nervousness the coming of the eventful 
 night. I was letter perfect in my part, but I kept 
 repeating it until the words seemed to be engraved 
 upon my mind. 
 
 In those days, in England, the doors of the thea- 
 tre were opened at half past six, and the perform- 
 ance began at 7 o'clock. I went to the theatre 
 about five o'clock. Mat, the old stage doorkeeper, 
 laughed as I came in, carrying a small bundle con- 
 taining my tights, sandals, etc., but he wished me 
 luck as I passed him down the passage. 
 
 The dressing-room was a long, bare room with 
 dressers running its entire length on both sides. 
 At the far end was a table with several wash bowls 
 and pitchers of water and beneath the table sev- 
 eral empty pails. A number of stools and chairs 
 of various conditions were arranged in front of 
 the dressers, and a plentiful supply of hooks was 
 furnished by a frame running down the center of 
 the room. The whitewashed walls had been deco- 
 rated by faces and figures drawn with burnt cork 
 and colored with rouge; some of these remarkably 
 well done, the work of former occupants during 
 their waits.
 
 32 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 I modestly selected a remote corner and pro- 
 ceeded to dress for my part. I had some difficulty 
 in getting into my tights and sandals, particularly 
 the former, which, being a trifle large for me, 
 would ruck and bag on my limbs. How- 
 ever, I succeeded in getting the costume on, and, 
 with the addition of a wired beard and a long- 
 haired wig, I was fully dressed and equipped by 
 the time the first of my comrades arrived. He 
 was followed shortly by others, all bringing their 
 bundles or baskets. They selected their dressing 
 places without confusion, the younger men yield- 
 ing to the elder, and readily rendering assistance 
 to each other in arranging draperies or in anyj 
 other slight service that might be required. No 
 mirrors were provided, but each actor furnished 
 his own hand glass to make up, and when fully 
 dressed went downstairs to the Green Room, where 
 there was a full length mirror, to survey the effect. 
 
 I followed their example, and for the first time 
 saw myself in costume and make-up. The result 
 was somewhat startling. I must admit I had little 
 knowledge of archaeology or acquaintance with 
 murderers, but I certainly looked capable of mur- 
 dering anybody. 
 
 The call boy summoned the actors for the first 
 act, and with last glimpses in the long glass they 
 promptly responded. I followed to the stage and 
 found myself in a crowd of Scottish Thanes and 
 soldiers of Macbeth 's army, and barely missed a 
 premature appearance, for I seemed to get in 
 everybody's way just at the time they were about
 
 H. J. Montague as Capt. Molyneux in "The Shaughraun"
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 33 
 
 to make their entrances. I was requested to move 
 by the principals, ordered to get out by the car- 
 penters and jostled out of the way by the super- 
 numeraries. 
 
 Sadly, I returned to the Green Room, where I 
 found my associate murderer, Joe Holt. He had 
 assisted his father to dress, and was now dressed 
 himself. I looked him over and came to the con- 
 clusion that as a murderer "he had nothing on 
 me."
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Experiences in a Provincial Stock Company. 
 
 Joe assumed an air of confidence I knew he did 
 not feel. I tried to put on a bold front, but it was 
 a poor attempt. We began to go over our lines 
 together when the second act was called the act 
 in which Joe and I were to appear. 
 
 We went to the wings the act progressed. 
 Macbeth dispatched Seyton to summon the mur- 
 derers. The cue was given and Seyton preceded 
 us. Joe went on, and some one gave me a push and 
 I was on the scene with him, before the audience! 
 I felt a chill run through me, my knees trembled, 
 my skin broke into gooseflesh, my sight seemed to 
 fade, everything before me was black. 
 
 The lines of Macbeth in the acting version are 
 somewhat curtailed and transposed from the full 
 text, and run as follows: 
 
 Macbeth: 
 
 "Are you so gospell'd 
 
 To pray for this good man and for his issue, 
 Whose heavy hand hath bow'd you to the grave 
 And beggar 'd yours forever?" 
 
 34
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 35 
 
 First Murderer: 
 "I am one, my liege, 
 
 Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world 
 Have so incensed that I am reckless what 
 I do to spite the world." 
 
 Second Murderer: 
 "And I another 
 
 So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune, 
 That I would set my life on any chance 
 To mend it, or be rid on't." 
 
 I have a vague remembrance of hearing the deep 
 voice of Mr. Holt, as Macbeth, asking us the above 
 question, and of Joe's trembling tones in reply: 
 
 "I am one, my liege " 
 
 and there he stuck dead. 
 
 The voice of Macbeth rumbled "Go on! go on!" 
 and a voice from the wings, "Speak, Warde, 
 speak." 
 
 So, I spoke: "And I another " then I stuck 
 
 dead. 
 
 What followed is not very clear in my mind. 
 Macbeth seemed to say in an angry voice, some- 
 thing like "Get off the stage, you idiots!" and at 
 the same time the prompter from the wings 
 shouted "Come off, come off!" and by some means 
 or another we got off. 
 
 I looked ruefully at Joe, Joe looked at me, but 
 our feelings were too deep for words. However, 
 Miss May Holt (Hecate), who had watched the 
 debut of her brother and my own with some inter- 
 est, broke the silence and said: "Well, I have seen
 
 36 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 a good many murderers in my time, but you two 
 are the worst of the whole lot." 
 i I anticipated nothing less than immediate dis- 
 missal by the manager, and ridicule from the com- 
 pany, after the terrible fiasco, and hurried in 
 shame and humiliation to the dressing room to 
 doff my costume and return to private life. But 
 I met only good natured laughter and encouraging 
 words from the company. Even Mr. Holt, at the 
 conclusion of the play, smiled and said: "Forget 
 it, my boy, you'll do better next time." 
 
 On the following Monday we produced Mr. 
 Holt's version of Les Miserables and played it a 
 week, a long run for a town like Sunderland. 
 Then began the routine of the season's work. 
 
 Visiting stars in the dramatic firmament came 
 at intervals, real stars, men and women who had 
 won their places by ability and achievement, and 
 who were supported by our resident company. At 
 other times, the standard dramas and London suc- 
 cesses were played by the company without a star. 
 
 Rehearsals were frequent and thorough, but 
 never very long. The leading actors knew their 
 business, required little direction, and invariably 
 gave the younger members of the company the 
 benefit of their knowledge and experience, and we 
 received it with gratitude and appreciation. 
 
 On the days when no play was rehearsed, the 
 utility ladies and gentlemen were called and the 
 stage manager would rehearse them in a series of 
 imaginary situations. For instance, he would or- 
 der the carpenters to set a chamber scene, with
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 37 
 
 center doors and doors R. and L., and the property 
 man to set tables and chairs upon the scene. Then 
 he would instruct one of us to assume the part of 
 a gentleman, to use his silk hat, light overcoat, 
 cane, etc., another to act as a servant, and one of 
 the ladies to assume the character of hostess. The 
 footman would announce the gentleman, the gen- 
 tleman would hand his hat and coat to the foot- 
 man, the lady would advance to receive him, they 
 would sit down, hold an imaginary conversation, 
 the gentleman would rise, take his leave, the serv- 
 ant re-enter, give gentleman his hat and coat and 
 show him out. 
 
 We would continue for two hours in such prac- 
 tice, with varying incidents, giving us an ease and 
 knowledge of deportment and manners in polite so- 
 ciety. Another morning we would rehearse strug- 
 gles, seizures and arrests and the stronger action 
 of melodramas. 
 
 I cannot remember at this time the sequence of 
 our visiting stars, but I recall the personalities and 
 performances of several of them, notably, Mr. Sam- 
 uel Phelps, a tragedian, and a great actor. He be- 
 longed to the methodical school of Macready, his 
 reading, movement and business being studied and 
 precise; nothing left to chance or circumstance, 
 but worked out like a problem in Euclid. 
 
 He played such parts as Hamlet, Macbeth, 
 Wolsey, Sir Pertinax MacSycophant, etc. Mr. 
 Phelps took himself seriously and never lost his 
 dignity. He had a dresser or valet, a cockney, 
 who with the typical humor of his class for invert-
 
 38 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 ing personalities, used to call his master of whom 
 he stood in wholesome awe "Playful Sam." 
 
 Mr. Phelps was rehearsing Macbeth, our heavy 
 leading lady rehearsing the part of Lady Mac- 
 beth. It was not considered good form to act at 
 rehearsal, there being an old saying, "A good ac- 
 tor at rehearsal is a bad actor at night," but our 
 Lady Macbeth, desiring to make a good impres- 
 sion on the eminent star, acted at rehearsal for 
 all she was worth. In the banquet scene where 
 Macbeth sees the ghost of Banquo at the table and 
 suggests appropriate terror, Lady Macbeth fell 
 on her knees and frantically grasped her husband 
 round the waist. 
 
 Mr. Phelps, disconcerted by the lady's action, 
 stopped the rehearsal and wounded the poor lady 
 to the quick by exclaiming: "For God's sake, 
 don't claw me about in that way, madam." The 
 tragic stars were sometimes cruel and tyrannical 
 in those days. 
 
 Mr. Phelps would never rehearse after 2 o'clock. 
 His irreverent valet asserted with a strong cock- 
 ney accent: "Playful Sam always goes to his gar- 
 bage at two," meaning to convey the information 
 that his master, Mr. Samuel Phelps, always took 
 his luncheon at that hour. 
 
 It was during Mr. Phelps 's engagement I re- 
 ceived my first newspaper notice. I have lost the 
 clipping, but I learned the words by heart and still 
 remember them. The play was Hamlet; I had 
 played Rosencrantz, and the notice was as follows: 
 
 "Mr. Warde as Rosencrantz deserves praise;
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 39 
 
 despite an evident nervousness, he spoke his lines 
 clearly, with good discretion and in pure educated 
 English. Let this gentleman, who is very young, 
 study hard, observe human nature closely and con- 
 centrate his mind on the parts allotted to him in 
 his novitiate, and he will one day make a name in 
 the profession he has adopted." 
 
 A large portion of my salary went that week for 
 copies of the paper and in postage to mail them 
 to my friends. 
 
 Another star who played with us was the beau- 
 tiful Adelaide Neilson, who was making a tour of 
 the smaller towns in the provinces before her Lon- 
 don debut. What a beautiful woman she was and 
 already a fine actress, though by no means the 
 great artist that subsequently fascinated and cap- 
 tured the hearts of two continents. She had 
 studied under a grand old actor named John 
 Ryder, and not only played Juliet, Rosalind and 
 other great Shakespearean heroines, but also ap- 
 peared as "Margery" in a farce called "The 
 Rough Diamond." 
 
 In this farce she had a very rapid change of 
 dress from a lady to a country girl, and in the 
 latter costume had to re-enter upon the stage, and 
 discover another lady in a compromising situation 
 with a gentleman. The latter was on his knee with 
 his lips on the lady's hand, exclaiming: "For the 
 last time I kiss your hand." 
 
 The lady and gentleman were in position, the 
 cue was given, but no Margery appeared. A sec-
 
 40 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 ond time the cue was given; no Margery. And 
 again, for the third time, the gentleman spoke. 
 
 I was playing a footman, and thinking the gen- 
 tleman had forgotten his line, threw it to him from 
 the wings, when he turned to me, and said: "I 
 have kissed the lady's hand three times. I don't 
 propose to kiss it again." 
 
 Margery finally appeared and the farce pro- 
 ceeded to its conclusion. 
 
 Miss Lydia Thompson, the burlesque actress, 
 played a week with us in several light or genteel 
 comedies in which she sang several songs. She 
 was another beautiful woman, with a very sweet 
 voice. 
 
 In one of the comedies, I think it was "The Lit- 
 tle Treasure," one or two songs were interpolated. 
 Miss Thompson gave the cue for the leader of 
 the orchestra to play the prelude to her accompani- 
 ment, but that gentleman was fast asleep on his 
 seat. She gave the cue a second time in a louder 
 tone, and one or two of the orchestra tried to 
 arouse their leader, but without success. 
 
 Miss Thompson became very angry and, taking 
 a good-sized book from a table near her, flung 
 it with such accurate aim that it struck the leader 
 fairly on the side of the head and knocked him off 
 his seat. The poor man hastily retired amid the 
 laughter of the audience, while the repetiteur took 
 up the accompaniment and Miss Thompson sang 
 her song to the delight and applause of the house. 
 
 Several other stars came to us during the Fall, 
 including the American actor, George Fawcett
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 41 
 
 Rowe, who appeared in a really marvelous per- 
 formance of Wilkins Micawber in a dramatization 
 of Charles Dickens' novel of David Copperfield 
 called "Little Em'ly." 
 
 So the season progressed, and from my brief 
 enumeration of the number and variety of the 
 plays produced it may readily be seen what a 
 splendid experience it was for a young actor and 
 what a solid foundation it laid for future study 
 and work. 
 
 As a body the men and women of the company 
 were not of especial culture, but they were all of 
 a kindly disposition. Their experiences of life 
 and familiarity with dramatic literature had been 
 an education, and the strict observance of profes- 
 sional etiquette and politeness, which was an inex- 
 orable rule in the theatre, and the necessary train- 
 ing for deportment and elegance in the comedies 
 of manners which were then very popular gave 
 them an air of good breeding and a cordial good 
 fellowship existed between them. At that time 
 stock actors had little or no social standing, so we 
 were dependent upon ourselves for social enter- 
 tainment. 
 
 We lived in lodgings. We gave only six per- 
 formances a week. There were no matinees, or 
 "morning performances" as we call them, nor did 
 we play or rehearse on Sundays; so we had con- 
 siderable leisure to visit and enjoy many social 
 hours together. Thus we became familiar with 
 and interested in each other's personal and domes- 
 tic affairs. Little teas and suppers were very
 
 42 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 pleasant and interesting gatherings, filled with 
 stories, anecdotes and experiences to me, a neo- 
 phyte, they were a revelation of the joys, sorrows 
 and vicissitudes of an actor's life. 
 
 I do not think many of them knew the meaning 
 or significance of philosophy, but with what a 
 philosophic resignation they regarded their vary- 
 ing fortunes! They might all have indorsed 
 Hamlet's assertion: "There's nothing good or bad, 
 but thinking makes it so." They accepted their 
 successes as a matter of course and endured their 
 misfortunes without complaint. 
 
 I have heard much at times of the jealousy 
 among players and great artists. I have known 
 many, but observed very little feeling of that sort 
 among the players. On the contrary, I have found 
 the most generous spirit of appreciation and mu- 
 tual assistance among them. At Sunderland they 
 were always ready to give a comrade points and 
 business in a part with which they were familiar 
 and to lend him properties and articles of ward- 
 robe that might be of advantage to his appearance. 
 
 The wardrobe of an actor or actress was not as 
 elaborate as it is today, nor were we quite as 
 archseologically correct in our costumes as now. 
 As I have said, the main wardrobe was provided 
 for the gentlemen, but the ladies provided their 
 own, and though it might have been limited, an ex- 
 perienced actress could make it very effective by 
 clever management. 
 
 The principal and most prized possession of a 
 heavy leading lady was a dress of black velvet.
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 43 
 
 This was worn, with slight variations and the 
 addition of many jewels, for Queens, Dowagers, 
 etc. The juvenile lady's pride was her white satin 
 dress that served for most of the classic heroines, 
 while a simple white muslin with different colored 
 sashes and ribbons was very effective for modern 
 young ladies; and a gray or black dress for the 
 poor and persecuted ones. 
 
 The soubrette, or chambermaid, usually had a 
 variety of short cotton dresses for servants, and 
 neat little tuck-ups for the merrie mountain maids 
 and pert little characters in comedietta and farce. 
 
 The difficulty with the men seemed to be with 
 the modern wardrobe, especially when full evening 
 dress was required, and I have seen many ingeni- 
 ous devices used to make a presentable appearance 
 as a debonair man of fashion by an actor whose 
 sartorial possessions were limited. 
 
 I especially recall the device of one ingenious 
 gentleman, who, having no white shirt available 
 for his full dress, took a large sheet of white paper, 
 drew a few lines down it with a pencil to represent 
 the plaits, stuck three small pieces of gilt paper 
 down the front for the studs, and really made a 
 most creditable appearance as a well-dressed gen- 
 tleman. 
 
 On another occasion, the same actor, requiring 
 a pair of epaulettes for a military costume, pro- 
 cured some tinfoil for the base and some gilt paper 
 for the fringe, and with it cleverly attached to his 
 shoulders was fully equipped in martial array. I 
 have often, myself, sewed a gold stripe down the
 
 44 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 sides of my evening dress trousers and with some 
 frogs of cord pinned on my Prince Albert coat 
 made a fair looking young officer in undress uni- 
 form. 
 
 I enjoyed the possession of a dark plum-colored 
 velvet jacket, quite a distingue and fashionable 
 garment at that period. It was the envy of the en- 
 tire company. I had little opportunity to wear it 
 myself for the unimportant parts I played, but 
 before the season was very old it had been worn 
 by nearly every male member for one paPt or 
 another until the management finally requeued me 
 "to withdraw it from circulation." 
 
 At length it became time to prepare for the 
 Christmas pantomime, the most important produc- 
 tion of the season. The carpenters, scenic artists 
 and costumers were busy with their preparations 
 of the mechanical devices, scenery and dresses, 
 which were to be very elaborate; the company re- 
 hearsing the lines and business; the ballet prepar- 
 ing their dances and the pantomimists their tricks. 
 It was indeed a busy time. 
 
 The Christmas pantomime has never been popu- 
 lar in this country, but is an established institu- 
 tion in English theatres, or at least it was at that 
 time. 
 
 It consisted of a burlesque opening, founded on 
 a fancy of fairyland or Mother Goose stories, fol- 
 lowed by a very elaborate transformation scene 
 with elaborate mechanical effects and concluding 
 with a harlequinade in which the clown, panta- 
 loon, harlequin and columbine frolicked in prac-
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 45 
 
 tical fun. It was the joy of the children as well as 
 of their elders, who forgot the cares and anxieties 
 of life in the riot of exuberant fancy and nonsense. 
 
 I played the policeman in the latter part of 
 the production and was the victim of all of the 
 merry clown's tricks. To steal and belabor the 
 poor "Bobby" with his own club, which at first 
 was a harmless cylinder of canvas stuffed with 
 straw, but which from constant use, became as 
 hard as the real thing, was the clown's favorite 
 pastime, and by the time the pantomime had run 
 its course I was nearly black and blue all over 
 from the drubbings I had nightly received at his 
 hands. A pantomime ran for several weeks suc- 
 cessfully, and we then resumed the routine of the 
 earlier season's work. 
 
 About the middle of March we were disagree- 
 ably surprised by a notice from the management 
 that the season would close at once. This was 
 a very serious matter to many of the company who 
 had reasonably anticipated that their engage- 
 ments would continue until the end of May, which 
 was the usual time for terminating a season; but 
 domestic differences between Mr. and Mrs. Holt 
 brought a premature finish to their management of 
 the theatre.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Varied Experiences of Good and Bad Fortune. 
 
 Mr. Hudspeth and Mr. Loom were respectively 
 the first comedian and the first old man of the 
 company, and the prospect of a long interval of 
 unemployment by the unforeseen closing of the 
 season at Sunderland meant serious embarrass- 
 ment for them. They decided to try a Spring and 
 Summer season with a "Fit-up," and a small 
 company of players who were willing to risk a 
 chance of remuneration, to give comediettas and 
 farces in the small towns of Durham and North- 
 umberland. I was engaged to join them at a 
 prospective salary of eighteen shillings per week. 
 
 Our "Fit-up" was a framework to serve as a 
 proscenium from which lateral and cross pieces 
 of wood, strongly supported, were built, on which 
 we hung our drops and worked our wings. The 
 drops and wings were painted on both sides, one 
 interior the other exterior, and were easily turned 
 as occasion required. The frame of the prosce- 
 nium was covered with attractive wallpaper and 
 we could usually make a gas attachment for foot- 
 lights. The "Fit-up" was of simple construction, 
 and could readily be put up in a small hall or 
 
 46
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 47 
 
 assembly-room, and when completed made a very 
 pretty and effective setting as a theatre. 
 
 Our first stand was in the Town Hall at Mor- 
 peth, little more than a village. The main diffi- 
 culty was to obtain lodgings, the local people hav- 
 ing little confidence in or respect for play-actors; 
 but we were finally located. 
 
 We gave several performances to very small 
 houses and then moved to Berwick-on-Tweed, a 
 somewhat larger and more important town. 
 There we erected our "Fit-up" in the assembly 
 room of the principal inn. It was one of those 
 English inns that Dickens describes so delight- 
 fully. You entered a courtyard through a large 
 stone arch. The assembly room was built in the 
 rear at right angles with the main building, 
 across and above the court-yard. It was in this 
 room that the quarter sessions, assizes and public 
 meetings were held. 
 
 We hired lumber to build the platform, which 
 was to serve for our stage and erected our fit-up 
 on the top of it. We opened to a rather encourag- 
 ing house, and the management gave each of us a 
 few shillings on account of our salaries, which, 
 up to this time, had not been paid. In the interim 
 I had parted with my watch, scarf pin and finger 
 ring as collateral to meet current expenses and 
 aid my less fortunate comrades. 
 
 The Berwick public, however, did not continue 
 its patronage and our business was very bad in- 
 deed. The management then decided to make an 
 extra effort to attract the public and announced &
 
 48 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 special performance of "The Colleen Bawn," a 
 very popular Irish play, and procured some pic- 
 torial printing to advertise it. 
 
 Our scenery was adequate to the play with the 
 exception of a cave supposed to be located on the 
 Irish coast. This cave should have a practical 
 rock in the center, surrounded by water. For the 
 scene itself and the wings, we procured some large 
 sheets of heavy brown paper, glued them together, 
 cutting out the cave arch, and with some black 
 and green paint coloring the paper to look like 
 rocks, and then cut out the cave arch. 
 
 For the water we stretched strips of blue tarle- 
 ton across the scene on strings. The difficulty 
 was with the rock for the center, from which the 
 villain, Danny Mann, was to push Eily O'Connor, 
 the heroine, into the water. At last the difficulty 
 was solved. My large wicker basket, in which I 
 carried my costumes, was to be covered with brown 
 paper, painted, and serve as the rock. 
 
 We had secured the patronage of the com- 
 mander and officers of the county militia, then in 
 training at Berwick, and had quite a good house. 
 The play proceeded very well until we came to the 
 cave scene, which looked real and received 
 some applause. But we had no boat; in fact, with 
 our limited accommodations we had no room for 
 a boat. There was no help for it, and Danny and 
 Eily walked through the water to the scene of the 
 dramatic event. 
 
 This created some amusement, but it was noth- 
 ing to what followed. Danny and Eily climbed
 
 Charlotte Cushman
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 49 
 
 upon the "rock," but the weight of two persons 
 was too much for the lid of the basket, which 
 promptly gave way, and Danny and Eily sank 
 knee deep into my wardrobe. The more they 
 struggled the deeper they got and the more en- 
 tangled in my clothes. They tried to speak the 
 dialogue of the scene, but they could not hold their 
 footing, and constantly fell against each other. 
 Finally, with Danny's assistance, Eily scrambled 
 out of the basket and fell in the water, and Danny 
 fell in after her. 
 
 This was too much for the audience, who howled 
 with laughter, and though we earnestly tried to 
 interest them in the concluding scenes of the play}, 
 our production of "The Colleen Bawn" ended 
 ignominiously. 
 
 The news of our mishap spread quickly and the 
 ridicule it excit.ed compelled us to close our en- 
 gagement. The management gave us each a few 
 shillings out of the receipts, but most of us were 
 indebted for our food and lodgings so that when 
 they were paid, we had little or nothing left; in 
 truth we were practically stranded and penniless. 
 
 The management made every effort to do some- 
 thing for us, and finally succeeded in engaging 
 the schoolhouse to give three little plays in a small 
 town called Aytoun, some eight miles from Ber- 
 wick, across the Scottish border. The rent, I sub- 
 sequently learned, was to be five shillings. I 
 pawned my sole remaining luxury of other days, 
 my traveling rug, and furnished the means to pay 
 the railroad fares of the three ladies who were to
 
 50 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 take part; but the men, seven of them including 1 
 myself, had to walk to Aytoun and carry their 
 small belongings. 
 
 A young steward from the gunboat station in 
 the Tweed, to protect the salmon fisheries, accom- 
 panied us. I had had little food for three days 
 except some bread and butter, and I don't think 
 any of the others had fared better; but we started 
 off on our eight-mile walk with that hope and 
 confidence which is so characteristic of the actor. 
 
 Our road lay along the cliffs, with the North 
 Sea on one side and the Cheviot Hills, covered 
 with heather, on the other. There were no "houses 
 by the road and only a few fishermen's huts down 
 by the shore, but about half way we came to a 
 roadside tavern. Our steward had a shilling it 
 was the only money in the party and he spent it 
 for two quarts of ale, which we drank between 
 us, and merrily continued our journey, the steward 
 playing a concertina he had brought with him and 
 which was to be our orchestra for the evening's 
 performance. 
 
 We arrived at Aytoun late in the afternoon, 
 erected the "Fit-up" in the schoolhouse, hung the 
 scenery and patiently awaited our fortune and a 
 meal. The doors were to open at half past six 
 and the performance to begin at 7 o'clock; but, 
 much to our consternation, we learned there was 
 to be a parade and review of the local Volunteer 
 Company of Aytoun that evening. Nevertheless, 
 we opened the doors at the usual time but at half
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 51 
 
 past seven, there was only three shillings and six 
 pence in the house and no signs of any more. 
 
 It was useless to wait longer, so we returned the 
 money to our would-be patrons and gave up the 
 enterprise. We took down our "Fit-up," rolled 
 up our scenery, laid it away, and, weary, hungry 
 and discouraged, started about 9 o'clock on our 
 return tramp of eight miles to Berwick-on-Tweed. 
 
 I don't know how the others got home, but I es- 
 corted Mrs. Hudspeth, her husband having gone 
 to Liverpool in search of an engagement, and that 
 poor lady, who expected soon to become a mother, 
 was in deep distress, sobbing nearly all the way. 
 It was certainly a long and weary return journey 
 over that bleak north country road. We reached 
 Berwick some time near midnight, and after tak- 
 ing Mrs. Hudspeth to her lodging, I retired to 
 mine. 
 
 The life of an actor did not appear so attractive 
 to me at that time, and I am afraid I yielded to 
 tears when I was alone in my room, for I was very 
 young, and oh! so hungry! 
 
 An empty stomach is a poor support for pride; 
 it conquered mine. In the morning I decided to 
 telegraph home for money. But how get the 
 money to pay for the telegram? The fat, ruddy- 
 cheeked landlord of the inn had been very kind, 
 so I went to him. He was in apron and shirt 
 sleeves, presiding at the taps in the bar parlor. I 
 told my tale and asked for the loan of a shilling 
 to send the telegram. 
 
 He was a shrewd north countryman and hesi-
 
 52 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 tated between good nature and discretion, finally 
 saying: "I'll talk to the missus," whereupon he 
 called her from the kitchen. A plump, good look- 
 ing woman, a fit companion in face and figure for 
 her husband, she came into the bar parlor, wiping 
 flour from her bare arms on her apron, and smiling 
 with the content of health and prosperity. The 
 landlord explained my errand. I suppose I looked 
 rather woebegone, for his wife said: "Poor lad; 
 thou look'st fairly sick." Then to her husband: 
 "John, put on thy coat, and go with th' lad to th' 
 office and send his telegram." 
 
 We went, the message was sent, and the land- 
 lord took me back to the inn. The good wife 
 asked me if I had had my breakfast. This was 
 too much for me. I broke down and confessed 
 that I had eaten little for three days. She raised 
 her hands in horror, and, seating me at one of 
 the tables, spread a white cloth over it, brought in 
 half of a pigeon pie, part of a boiled ham, bread, 
 butter and cheese, and placed it all before me. The 
 landlord himself fetched a pint of ale, but the 
 wife remonstrated: "No, a mug of milk will do 
 him more good," she said. 
 
 She trotted off and brought it, and I enjoyed 
 one of the grandest meals I ever ate. I have at- 
 tended many banquets and dined at many tables, 
 but none can compare with that breakfast in the 
 bar parlor of the inn at Berwick-on-Tweed. My 
 host and hostess have long since passed away, but 
 their memory is still cherished in my heart with 
 love and gratitude.
 
 George Eignold as Henry V.
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 53 
 
 The following morning I received a remittance 
 of five pounds ($25) from home. I rescued my 
 watch, ring and pin, and, of course, my traveling, 
 rug (for a prosperous gentleman could not dis- 
 pense with that) from the pawnbrokers, gave a 
 little something to each of the members of the 
 company, said good-by to the landlord and his 
 good wife God bless them! took the train to 
 Newcastle and a boat from there to London. 
 
 And so ended my first season on the stage. 
 
 During the summer months I made application 
 to the managers of the various theatres royal in 
 the country and succeeded in obtaining an engage- 
 ment for "Responsible Utility," a grade above my 
 position at Sunderland, at a salary of twenty-five 
 shillings a week at the Theatre Royal, Glasgow, 
 in Scotland. 
 
 The Theatre Royal, Glasgow, was one of the 
 most important theatres outside of London. The 
 company was a large one and included, in addition 
 to the regular lines of business, ladies and gentle- 
 men especially engaged for Scotch parts. 
 
 The Scottish people are very sensitive to the 
 pronunciation of their national tongue and we 
 gave many plays during the season that had a 
 local appeal and required a correct expression of 
 both the Highland and Lowland dialects, which, 
 by the way, differ materially. 
 
 Several of the company at Glasgow had been 
 many years at the theatre, notably Mr. Fitzroy, 
 the first old man, and Mr. Lloyd, the first come- 
 dian. These gentlemen now were both well ad-
 
 54 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 vanced in years, and at the beginning of each sea- 
 son were located in the same dressing room, but 
 it was a tradition that before many weeks were 
 over they would quarrel over some trifling differ- 
 ence of opinion and separate. This season was no 
 exception to the rule. Yet they were both fine old 
 actors, had a mutual respect and esteem for each 
 other, and their differences were only a matter of 
 temperament. 
 
 The policy of the theatre was similar to that of 
 Sunderland, visiting stars, and stock perform- 
 ances. 
 
 The discipline and system of the theatre was ad- 
 mirable; punctuality imperative. To be late for 
 a rehearsal was regarded not only as a dereliction 
 of duty, but an insult to the stage director and 
 the company. Ten minutes' margin was allowed 
 for difference in clocks; after that you were sub- 
 ject to a reproof for the first offence, a financial 
 forfeit for the second and probable dismissal for 
 the third. To hold the curtain or make a stage 
 wait was a crime. 
 
 There were two Green Rooms at Glasgow. One 
 for the principals and another for the utility ladies 
 and gentlemen, and the ballet. As I was engaged 
 for "responsible utility," I had the privilege of 
 the first. 
 
 The Green Room of the theatre is an institution 
 that has unfortunately disappeared. 
 
 It was a large room usually located within easy 
 distance of the stage, plainly but comfortably fur-
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 55 
 
 nished and intended for the personal convenience 
 of the ladies and gentlemen of the company. 
 
 A full length mirror was generally found on one 
 side of the room to enable the actor to see his full 
 costume and make-up, and on a table a copy of 
 Johnson's dictionary for reference in case of a 
 disputed pronunciation. 
 
 It was to the Green Room that the actors came 
 when called for rehearsal and when dressed for 
 their parts in the evening. From it they were 
 summoned by the call boy when required on the 
 stage. 
 
 Conversation was subdued and perfect etiquette 
 was observed. 
 
 On rare occasions visitors were permitted, but 
 it was a courtesy extended to few. Now, in the 
 old theatres the Green Room has been relegated to 
 the property man and in the majority of new 
 ones it does not exist. 
 
 At the beginning of my Glasgow season I com- 
 menced a diary, but I regret to say that I contin- 
 ued it for but a few weeks. I did, however, keep 
 a record of the parts I played, and I find that dur- 
 ing the season commencing September 7, 1868, 
 and terminating May 28, 1869, I appeared in 
 eighty different plays in parts varying in length 
 from one to fifty lines. In explanation of this, it 
 must be remembered that it was not unusual to 
 give three plays in one evening. A light comedy 
 or farce to play the audience in, then the featured 
 drama or tragedy, and a broad farce to play the 
 .audience out.
 
 56 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 Our performances may at times have lacked the 
 finish of modern productions, but they were given 
 with a spontaneous sincerity and vigor that was 
 convincing and impressive. 
 
 Miss Bateman, our first star, was an American 
 actress, who had made a great success both in 
 England and her own country as "Leah, the Jew- 
 ish maiden." She was the daughter of the Mr. 
 Bateman who first presented Henry Irving, as 
 star, to the British public. It was the foresight 
 and enterprise of an American that gave Irving 
 the opportunity to demonstrate his genius, and 
 started him on the road to distinction and success. 
 
 Charles Dillon, who followed Miss Bateman, was 
 a great actor. His Belphegor was one of the most 
 beautiful and pathetic performances I ever wit- 
 nessed. I also had the advantage of playing with 
 him in Othello and King Lear. His presentation 
 of Othello was a noble performance, full of ori- 
 ental color in all its earlier phases. In the tender- 
 ness and pathos of the later scenes, I have never 
 seen it surpassed. His Lear was superb! 
 
 Lady Don and Miss Augusta Thompson played 
 and sang in musical comediettas. 
 
 John L. Toole, of whom I shall speak at length 
 later, played a brief engagement in his comedy 
 parts, and Miss Marriott in tragedy. Among 
 other parts Miss Marriott played Hamlet. I have 
 never seen a woman as Hamlet before, and I can- 
 not say that it impressed me favorably. Miss 
 Marriott was mature, and her feminine figure was 
 largely in evidence, which somewhat marred the
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 57 
 
 illusion of a youthful prince, but her reading of 
 the lines was splendid. 
 
 Miss Marriott in private life was the wife of 
 Mr. Robert Edgar, a humorous gentleman, whose 
 delight it was to amaze and confuse Shakespear- 
 ean scholars, and theorists on Hamlet, by assert- 
 ing that "Hamlet was a married woman and he 
 could prove it by official records." When called 
 upon for his authority, he would produce his cer- 
 tificate of marriage to Miss Marriott. 
 
 The Christmas pantomime followed. A gor- 
 geous production founded on "The Travels of 
 Gulliver," which ran for more than six weeks, 
 the principal part in which was played by G. W. 
 Anson, a young actor who subsequently achieved 
 distinction in England, in Australia and in this 
 country, and I am happy to say is still delighting 
 audiences here with his fine ability, mellowed by 
 time, study and experience. 
 
 The principal actors in the company usually 
 took "Benefits" toward the close of the season 
 a custom now happily extinct, but then a part of 
 their contract. The actor chose his play, with the 
 approval of the management, and took a clear 
 third of the night's receipts, his particular friends 
 and admirers rallying to his support. 
 
 There was also a "general ticket night," when 
 the subordinate actors received half of the value 
 of the tickets they could sell. It was a recognized 
 institution, and I must admit I have taken advan- 
 tage of it, but it always seemed to me, except in 
 a case of actual necessity, to be a humiliation to
 
 58 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 the actor and an imposition on his friends. How- 
 ever, in some instances it gave the public an op- 
 portunity to show their appreciation of the actor's 
 talents and to demonstrate their esteem for him.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Progress and Promotion. 
 
 The loyalty of British theatre-goers to their 
 favorite actors is a characteristic of that country. 
 It is not the case of being idolized today and dis- 
 carded tomorrow. Esteem and respect grow 
 with time; admiration begets affection, and the 
 actor is not merely the entertainer of the passing 1 
 hour, but a friend who has a place in their hearts, 
 and is a factor in their lives. 
 
 During the Spring season Sims Reeves, the great 
 tenor, came to us appearing in Rob Roy and Guy 
 Mannering, drawing immense audiences and 
 charming them with his wonderful voice in the 
 incidental and interpolated songs. 
 i Herr Formes, a popular operatic basso with! 
 dramatic aspirations, played a week with us in 
 Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice. He gave 
 a remarkable performance of Shylock with a deep 
 guttural German accent. Before the end of the 
 week Herr Formes' ambitions as a tragedian had 
 ceased to be. 
 
 Our season of forty weeks came to an end about 
 the last of May, and with it, the existence of the 
 old Theatre Royal. The patent which gave it the 
 title "Royal" was transferred to the Prince of 
 
 59
 
 60 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 Wales' Theatre in the Cowcaddens, which after- 
 ward enjoyed the distinction. 
 
 Rob Roy was the play chosen for the last night. 
 The house was packed. At the conclusion of the 
 play the entire company and the audience stood 
 and sang "Auld Lang Syne," on the last notes of 
 which the curtain of the old Royal, in Dunlap 
 street fell for the last time. 
 
 A tour of the industrial towns of Lancashire and 
 Yorkshire with a company supporting John L. 
 Toole, the comedian, in which Henry Irving was 
 the leading man, delightfully commenced the fol- 
 lowing season. I say delightfully, for Mr. Toole 
 was a most genial gentleman, and the principals 
 of the company were ladies and gentlemen of per- 
 sonal charm and great ability. 
 
 Mr. Irving had not then achieved his great suc- 
 cess that culminated in his knighthood, but he was 
 a fine, well trained actor of striking personality 
 that gave great distinction to every part that he 
 played. 
 
 Our repertoire consisted of a number of little 
 comedies and farces, including "Dearer Than 
 Life," "Uncle Dick's Darling," especially writ- 
 ten for Mr. Toole, "Oliver Twist" and several 
 others. I was engaged for the walking gentle- 
 man, but another young man (E. T. Webber) 
 about my own age and experience was also en- 
 gaged for the same line of parts, it being under- 
 stood that the one of us who was the best dressed 
 on and off the stage should have the better parts. 
 
 The company assembled at Rochdale, in York-
 
 Adelaide Neilson as Juliet
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 61 
 
 shire. Tom Webber and myself found lodgings 
 in a small hotel kept by a typical Yorkshireman.. 
 On Sunday morning Tom and I came downstairs 
 together to go to church, both dressed in our best, 
 and each eyeing the other critically. The land- 
 lord, standing at the foot of the stairs exclaimed: 
 "Eh! lads! thou doesn't favor actors, thou look'st 
 like gentlemen." We both laughed heartily, for- 
 got our rivalry and were close friends for the re- 
 mainder of the season. 
 
 There was an old saying among the actors of 
 that time, paraphrased from the Litany: "From 
 Hell, Hull and Halifax, good Lord deliver us." 
 We did not visit the first named place, but we did 
 fine business at Hull and Halifax. At the latter 
 town, Irving asked me if I would like to join him 
 in the morning and walk to Huddersfield, our next 
 stand, a short journey of twelve miles. I eagerly 
 accepted his invitation, and, leaving our hand bag- 
 gage with the property man, we started on our 
 tramp. It was a lovely autumn morning, and at a 
 good pace we strode along the splendid roads of 
 old England, smoking our briar root pipes and 
 swinging our heavy walking sticks. 
 
 We came upon a roadside inn, stopped for a bite 
 and a sup, sat under a "spreading chestnut tree," 
 and with the appetites of plowmen tackled a meal 
 of bread, butter, cheese and a mug of ale; the 
 bread and butter, home made and fresh, and the 
 cheese and ale mellowed by time. 
 
 Some years later, Sir Henry Irving (he had 
 then been knighted) entertained me at an elabo-
 
 62 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 rate dinner in this country, and we talked over the 
 rustic meal two prospective tragedians had taken 
 on the road to Huddersfield years ago, and both 
 agreed that the former meal was the most enjoy- 
 able. 
 
 At the termination of our tour with Mr. Toole, 
 the company, with the exception of Mr. Irving, 
 went to the Amphitheatre at Leeds for the season, 
 under the same management. The Amphitheatre 
 was an old house that had been devoted to lurid 
 melodrama, and the more refined policy of the new 
 management was not successful, so they gave it 
 up, and the proprietor decided to run it on the old 
 lines. 
 
 I was retained as leading man and stage man- 
 ager, a wonderful promotion for a young actor of 
 my brief experience, but thanks to the co-opera- 
 tion of the company and the indulgence of the 
 public, I held the position satisfactorily. 
 
 I had many amusing experiences with our melo- 
 dramatic stars, one of which I recall. 
 
 The star for the week was a "Dog-man," that 
 is to say, he brought with him two trained dogs 
 that appeared in the play. They seized the villain 
 when he was attacking the hero, rescued the hero- 
 ine in distress, brought in the lost will at the criti- 
 cal moment, or something of that sort. The play 
 was "The Forest of Bondy, or the Dog of Mon- 
 targis." It was to have run for the week, but it 
 did not please. 
 
 The proprietor sent for me and instructed me to
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 63 
 
 change the bill. I knew the star had no reper- 
 toire, so I asked what play he would suggest. 
 
 He replied: "Give 'em some Shakespeare, put 
 up Hamlet." 
 
 I found our Dog-man star, and told him of the 
 manager's suggestion. He was delighted with it. 
 Said he: "A good idea. Use the dogs, Hamlet's 
 dog, let him seize the King in the last act." 
 
 I inquired if he had ever played Hamlet. He 
 replied, "No, but that's all right, I'll wing the 
 beggar," meaning that he would read over the 
 lines in the wings and then go on and speak them 
 before they had left his memory. 
 
 As Hamlet speaks considerably more than a 
 thousand lines, this was a startling proposition. 
 However, I called a rehearsal for the following 
 morning. Our Dog-man came with a book of the 
 play he had bought on his way to rehearsal. He 
 separated the uncut leaves with a letter opener and 
 began to read the part. Its length surprised him, 
 and turning to me he remarked in a strong Cock- 
 ney dialect, "The bloomin' Dane cackles, don't he, 
 Cully?" 
 
 He floundered through the first scene until he 
 reached Hamlet's soliloquy beginning, "Oh, that 
 this too solid flesh would melt," etc. That was 
 too much for him. He admitted defeat and de- 
 parted abruptly, taking his dogs with him. We 
 substituted stock plays to fill out the week. 
 
 Fortune took me to a minor theatre in Man- 
 chester in the spring, and I was so fortunate as 
 to attract the attention of Mr. Charles Calvert,
 
 64 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 manager of the Prince's Theatre in that city. He 
 offered me an engagement, which I gladly ac- 
 cepted. 
 
 The Prince's Theatre, Manchester, was prob- 
 ably the finest in England, outside of London. It 
 was owned by an American, Mr. Boston Brown, 
 whose means, liberality and good taste beautified 
 the front of the house, while the ability and culture 
 of Mr. Calvert controlled the stage. 
 
 The distinguishing features of the Prince's 
 Theatre under Mr. Calvert 's management were 
 revivals of Shakespeare's plays, which were pro- 
 duced with so much elaboration of detail, archae- 
 ological accuracy and wealth of scenery that they 
 attracted the attention of the entire country. , 
 
 It was in this splendid atmosphere I spent the 
 next two years. Mr. Calvert was good enough to 
 take great interest in my career and gave me the 
 advantage of his ripe experience and scholarship, 
 encouraging me to study the great characters of 
 Shakespeare, and really laid the foundation of 
 what subsequently became the ambition and work 
 of my life. 
 
 The first Shakespearean production in which I 
 was engaged was "Richard the Third" played 
 from the full text of the poet. The usual acting 
 edition of "Richard III" is a greatly curtailed ver- 
 sion of the play, with passages from other plays, 
 and interpolations by Colley Gibber. This ver- 
 sion has been used by tragedians for many years 
 and is very popular still, but many of the char- 
 acters and incidents of the original text are
 
 **'
 
 Edwin Booth
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 65 
 
 omitted, and many passages and climaxes made 
 exceedingly melodramatic and theatric. 
 
 Our production was very massive and elaborate. 
 The dresses, armors, weapons, banners and her- 
 aldic devices were all reproduced from competent 
 authorities and a panorama and pageant of medi- 
 eval splendor was the result. 
 
 I do not remember the cast of all of the char- 
 acters, but Mr. Calvert played Richard and gave a 
 splendid performance of the part. Mrs. Calvert 
 was. Queen Elizabeth, and I was cast for Lord 
 Hastings. 
 
 "Richard the Third" ran for twelve weeks to 
 enormous business, after which Mr. Toole, the 
 comedian, played a brief engagement and then the 
 Christmas pantomime was produced. 
 
 The subject was "Bluebeard," and I was cast 
 for that much married reprobate. I played it in 
 a vein of burlesque tragedy, and in spite of the fact 
 that I had both to sing and to dance, accomplish- 
 ments in which I was sadly deficient, I was quite 
 a success. The production was a spectacle of 
 oriental splendor and magnificance, the transfor- 
 mation scene being especially beautiful. This 
 particular scene was called "The Nativity of 
 Venus," and at the conclusion of our run was 
 purchased by Messrs. Jarrett & Palmer, the Amer- 
 ican managers, and brought to New York. 
 
 Following the run of the pantomime, Miss Ade- 
 laide Neilson, then the most beautiful and popular 
 actress on the English stage, came to us for a 
 lengthy engagement.
 
 66 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 Her repertoire included "Romeo and Juliet," 
 "As You Like It," and "The Lady of Lyons." 
 
 When I had met the lady some four years be- 
 fore I played very small parts with her, but now 
 I was Romeo, Orlando and Claude Melnotte, the 
 opposite leading parts to the star. 
 
 Miss Neilson played with realistic emotion and 
 passion, and as I was a young man full of vigor 
 and enthusiasm, I responded. The result was 
 quite a sensation, particularly in "Romeo and 
 Juliet." Juliet's tears and kisses were real and 
 her embraces earnest and sincere. One critic re- 
 marked to me: "You were both so intense in the 
 garden scene I fully expected to see Juliet jump 
 down from the balcony into your arms, or you to 
 climb up to hers, and I wouldn't have blamed you 
 if you had." 
 
 "Romeo and Juliet" ran four weeks. We then 
 presented "As You Like It," and I don't think 
 Rosalind ever had a better representative than 
 Miss Nielson. 
 
 In the part of Orlando, in "As You Like It," I 
 had to wrestle with, and finally throw, Charles, the 
 Duke's wrestler, in a bout in the presence of the 
 Duke. A huge athletic man, who posed for Her- 
 cules and other heroic figures in the art school, 
 had been engaged for the wrestler. 
 
 Our wrestling business had, of course, been all 
 arranged and rehearsed, and for the first few 
 nights all went well, but one day Charles had been 
 indulging too much in old ale, or possibly some- 
 thing stronger, and came to the theatre very much
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 67 
 
 the worse for liquor. But he was able to appear, 
 though in a very bad temper. We skirmished for 
 our grip, finally closed and wrestled as arranged 
 until it was time for Charles to go down; but he 
 wouldn't go down, and I couldn't make him. I 
 whispered: "Go down let me throw you," but he 
 replied: "If you talk to me I'll throw you in the 
 bloody orchestra." The worst of it was, he could 
 have done it. Yet ultimately he permitted me to 
 throw him. For a few minutes, however, it looked 
 as if Charles the wrestler was to be the hero of the 
 occasion, instead of Orlando. 
 
 I recall at this late day the exquisite setting Mr. 
 Calvert gave us for "As You Like It." He was 
 a master of stagecraft, had a most refined taste, a 
 love for the beautiful, and our sylvan scenes in the 
 Forest of Arden rivalled nature itself. How my 
 youthful imagination revelled in the scene as 
 Rosalind in her boy's dress of doublet and hose 
 wandered through those leafy aisles under the in- 
 terlacing branches of the trees! It seemed to me 
 the perfect realization of the poet's ideal. 
 
 A production of Lord Lytton's play, "The Lady 
 of Lyons," in which I was Claude Melnotte, the 
 hero, brought Miss Neilson's engagement to a 
 close. 
 
 It is remarkable with what skill the distin- 
 guished author has clothed the young scoundrel 
 Claude Melnotte in a garment of poetry and con- 
 cealed the villainy of his assumption of the char- 
 acter of the Prince of Como. It is said that Lord 
 Lytton was deeply chagrined at the lack of success
 
 68 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 of some of his former plays, which had great liter- 
 ary merit, and that he wrote "The Lady of 
 Lyons" from a purely theatrical point of view. 
 The result, however, was one of the most popular 
 romantic dramas of the day and the success of 
 our production was another instance of its popu- 
 larity. 
 
 An unfortunate incident occurred on our first 
 performance of the play. In the fourth act, the 
 parents of the heroine, Pauline, having discovered 
 the imposition practiced on their daughter, come 
 to the humble cottage to which Claude has taken 
 his bride, and demand her release. But Pauline 
 does not wish to leave her peasant husband, and 
 proposes that her parents adopt Claude as their 
 son. Her father, an upright business man, de- 
 clines to do this, and insists that Claude return 
 to his station and give Pauline a divorce. Pauline 
 exclaims with indignation: 
 
 "And you would have a wife enjoy luxury while 
 her husband toils?" 
 
 Then turning to Claude, who is standing peni- 
 tently in the left hand corner, she continues: 
 "Claude! Claude! thou canst not give me titles, 
 rank and station, but thou canst give me a true 
 heart. Take me, I am thine and no word of re- 
 proach shall ever pass my lips," and rushes into 
 Claude's arms. 
 
 This was the situation. Pauline rushed toward 
 me, but I was unprepared. She struck me full in 
 the breast, I fell backwards, and Pauline fell with 
 me. There was, of course, considerable amusement
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 69 
 
 in the audience and confusion on the stage. We 
 were assisted to our feet, and with considerable em- 
 barrassment resumed our position, when I, with- 
 out thinking, spoke the next line of the text, which 
 unfortunately happened to be, "This is the heavi- 
 est blow of all." 
 
 I don't think I ever heard such hysterical laugh- 
 ter in my life. Actors, audience and musicians 
 were convulsed. It was impossible to proceed 
 with the play. We endeavored to continue but 
 our voices were drowned in laughter. The cur- 
 tain fell, and the audience dispersed, feeling amply 
 repaid for the loss of the conclusion of the play. 
 
 At the conclusion of the season at Manchester 
 I obtained a summer engagement at the Theatre 
 Royal, Douglas, in the Isle of Man, under the man- 
 agement of Mr. John Coleman, an eccentric gen- 
 tleman, but a scholar and a very fine actor. 
 
 The company was a good one, the work easy and 
 our stay on the island more like a vacation than 
 a working season. We rehearsed every morning 
 at 10 o'clock and were through by 12. The gentle- 
 men would then go down to the dock, take an 
 eight-oared gig and row over to Port Skillion 
 Creek, a delightful bathing place secure from pub- 
 lic intrusion, with every facility for just wetting 
 your feet or diving into water forty feet deep. 
 
 There, in the simple costume of a pair of bath- 
 ing drawers, we would enact the most wonderful 
 extemporaneous melodramas that fun and non- 
 sense would suggest. The villain would throw 
 the heroine into the water, the hero would leap in
 
 70 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 to save her, we would duck the villain and indulge 
 in the wildest fun for an hour or so, then return 
 for dinner, study, rest and preparation for the 
 evening performance. 
 
 Among many parts I played that summer was 
 Mathias in "The Bells," Henry Irving's great 
 success. I was the first actor to play it outside 
 of London. 
 
 Mr. Coleman directed our rehearsals with skill 
 and ability, but he was very fond of using long 
 and sometimes confusing terms in his directions. 
 For example, he was instructing some supernu- 
 meraries who were to represent villagers to laugh 
 at him as he came upon the scene, and he said: "I 
 want you to give me a laugh as I come on, a 
 greasy laugh of truculent defiance." 
 
 On another occasion when an actor asked for a 
 small advance on account of salary, he responded: 
 "Sir, you are always in a state of dire impecuni- 
 osity." It was a slight affectation, but in spite of 
 it we all had a profound respect and esteem for 
 John Coleman, the actor, the director, and the 
 man.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Shakespearean Ambitions. America in Prospect. 
 
 On my return to Manchester for my second sea- 
 son, Mr. Calvert made a most elaborate produc- 
 tion of Shakespeare's comedy of "The Merchant 
 of Venice." The scenes were reproductions of 
 Venice in the sixteenth century, the costumes 
 copied from portraits in the old Italian galleries, 
 and real gondolas were imported from Venice for 
 the production. 
 
 New incidental music, including a Venetian 
 Masque, was composed for the production, by 
 Arthur Sullivan, who conducted the orchestra for 
 the first week. 
 
 Arthur Sullivan, who was afterward knighted, 
 is perhaps better remembered by his association 
 with W. S. Gilbert in the composition of H. M. S. 
 Pinafore and other comic operas. Sullivan had 
 a charming personality and was a great favorite 
 with us all. 
 
 Many actors who play Shylock terminate the 
 play with the exit of that character in the trial 
 scene; but we used the full text as it is printed in 
 the usual published editions. 
 
 It was in this production I saw tableau curtains 
 used for the first time. Heretofore, a green baize 
 curtain that descended in folds opened and closed 
 
 71
 
 72 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 the play, while a painted drop, with a heavy roller, 
 rose and fell between the acts. Mr. Calvert used 
 heavy velvet curtains, with appropriate Venetian 
 decorations, parted and closed by Italian pages be- 
 tween the scenes, making each one a tableau. 
 
 Mr. Calvert played Shylock. Mr. Henry Van- 
 derhoff the Gratiano, Frank Archer, Antonio; Miss 
 Carlisle, Portia; Miss Rose Coghlan, Nerissa, and 
 I was the Bassanio. 
 
 Miss Rose Coghlan was a young and beautiful 
 girl, who subsequently came to this country, for 
 many seasons was leading lady at Wallack's The- 
 atre, New York, and is still playing, dignifying 
 her parts with the consummate art that only 
 great ability, allied with ripe experience, can give. 
 
 Another Shakespearean revival, though on a 
 less elaborate scale, was a condensed version of 
 "The Taming of the Shrew" called "Katherine 
 and Petruchio," in whicH Miss Coghlan played the 
 shrewish Katherine and I appeared as the roy- 
 stering Petruchio. 
 
 The Christmas Pantomime followed "Katherine 
 and Petruchio." I did not play in it, but appeared 
 in the farce or comedietta that preceded it, per- 
 formances to which the audience paid little atten- 
 tion, being impatient for the brilliant spectacle 
 they had come to see. A production of a new play 
 by Tom Taylor, author of "The Ticket of Leave 
 Man," called "Handsome Is That Handsome 
 Does," followed the Pantomime. 
 
 Mr. Compton was the star. He played a vil- 
 lage schoolmaster. I was a young aristocrat on
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 73 
 
 a reading tour. The late Mr. E. S. Willard, whose 
 performances in "The Middleman" and "The 
 Professor's Love Story" are so delightfully re- 
 membered, was also in the cast. 
 
 In one scene, a village festival, there were three 
 wrestling bouts between Mr. Compton and myself. 
 Mr. Compton was to win the first bout, I the second 
 and Mr. Compton the third, winning the match. 
 The wrestling had been carefully rehearsed and 
 the falls arranged, but Mr. Compton was an elder- 
 ly man, and on the first night I threw him so heav- 
 ily in the second bout that it almost broke the 
 poor gentleman's back. After this the contest 
 was limited to one bout to decide our physical 
 superiority. 
 
 Mr. Compton has long since passed away, but 
 what a fine unctuous comedian he was! His 
 Touchstone, the roynish clown in "As You Like 
 It," still lingers in my mind as the best I ever 
 witnessed. 
 
 An engagement of Mr. Dion Boucicault, the au- 
 thor of "The Colleen Bawn," "The Shaughran," 
 and other Irish plays, filled several weeks, and I 
 profited greatly from his instruction. He was a 
 master of stagecraft and dramatic detail. 
 
 In a little play called "Kerry" I had to eat a 
 couple of lamb chops and drink a glass of brandy 
 and water. Mr. Boucicault insisted on having the 
 real thing. They were sent nightly from the 
 Queen's Hotel and I was compelled to devour two 
 chops and drink brandy an4 water before the audi-
 
 74 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 ence, speaking my dialogue between mouthfuls, 
 swallowing unmasticated food and drinking ar- 
 dent spirits from a tumbler that Mr. Boucicault 
 as "Kerry," the faithful servant, constantly re- 
 plenished. 
 
 I have to thank Dion Boucicault for my first 
 attack of indigestion, but I am also indebted to 
 him for an indorsement that won me my first en- 
 gagement in this country, so in the balance of 
 things I esteem myself his debtor. 
 
 Two interesting visitors were Mr. and Mrs. 
 William J. Florence, who will be remembered 
 here for their unique performance of the Hon. 
 Bardwell Slote and Mrs. Gen. Gilflory in The 
 Mighty Dollar some years ago. Mr. and Mrs. 
 Florence were advertised as "The Irish Boy and 
 Yankee Girl." We had many Irish comedians 
 on the English stage, but the Yankee Girl was a 
 new character to us, and Mrs. Florence greatly 
 pleased our Manchester audience. Mr. Flor- 
 ence was more successful as Cap'n Cuttle, in a 
 version of Charles Dickens' novel "Dombey and 
 Son." 
 
 Another visiting star and very great favorite 
 was Mr. E. A. Sothern, who played Lord Dun- 
 dreary in "Our American Cousin," "The Crushed 
 Tragedian," "David Garrick" and "A Regular 
 Fix." Mr. Sothern was a man of distinguished 
 appearance and of complete savoir faire. He 
 had lived some years in America and was thor- 
 oughly democratic with the company and dearly 
 loved a practical joke.
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 75 
 
 A monster benefit was given at the Prince's for 
 the sufferers by the great fire that had almost de- 
 stroyed Chicago. Everything was donated, the 
 house was packed and a substantial sum of money 
 was sent to America to aid in the relief of our 
 American cousins. 
 
 A revival of Shakespeare's "Timon of Athens," 
 in which Mr. Calvert played Timon and I one of 
 his faithful serving men, brought the season and 
 my engagement to a close. 
 
 What a wealth of experience those two years at 
 the Prince's Theatre, Manchester, had given me! 
 What a variety of parts I had played! And, bet- 
 ,ter still, what a love and reverence for Shakes- 
 peare and an ambition to adequately present his 
 characters and plays had been aroused in my mind 
 and heart! Many, many times in the years that 
 have passed since those early days I have blessed 
 the happy chance that took me to Manchester and 
 the good fortune that gave me such a master, pre- 
 ceptor and friend as that admirable actor, scholar 
 and gentleman, Charles Calvert. 
 
 Another piece of good fortune fell to my lot in 
 Manchester. While I was playing Romeo to Miss 
 Nielsen on the stage, I was playing Romeo in real 
 life to the sweetest little woman in the world. 
 Like "Romeo and Juliet," we were married, but 
 there the similitude ends, for in our case the 
 lady and myself have enjoyed a long life of happi- 
 ness; and that same little woman, with a silver 
 halo round her sweet face, sits by my side and 
 smiles at me as I am writing these lines.
 
 76 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 When the season had closed in Manchester I 
 made my first essay in management. I leased the 
 Theatre Royal, Oldham, in Lancashire, for a 
 month. I produced "Faust," "Little Em'ly," 
 "All That Glitters Is Not Gold" and several other 
 plays. For the final week I presented Mr. Charles 
 Calvert in "Louis XI," a part he played with 
 great effect and skill. The result of my manage- 
 ment was a great store of experience, but very 
 little profit. 
 
 Brighton is but a short distance from London, 
 yet the Theatre Royal is called a provincial thea- 
 tre, in fact, the term "provincial" is applied to 
 everything and everybody outside of the metrop- 
 olis. 
 
 It was at the Theatre Royal, Brighton, under 
 the management of Mr. Nye Chart, I obtained an 
 engagement for the next season. 
 
 Mr. Chart was an excellent gentleman, but a 
 confirmed invalid. He had formerly been an 
 actor of considerable reputation as a comedian. 
 He had practically retired from the stage and 
 played but one part with us during the season, 
 Nat Gosling, an old jockey, in Boucicault's racing 
 drama, "The Flying Scud." 
 
 The great scene in "The Flying Scud" is the 
 race course on Epsom Downs. Mr. Chart, who 
 was anything but an accomplished equestrian, had 
 to enter the scene on horseback, having won the 
 great race for the Derby. The stage was filled by 
 a shouting crowd as the old jockey, in his racing
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 77 
 
 colors, mounted on the winning horse, was led on 
 by the grooms. 
 
 It was a great climax and some admirer in one 
 of the boxes threw a large bouquet upon the stage. 
 Mr. Blakeley, playing one of the characters, 
 picked up the flowers and handed them to Mr. 
 Chart, but in doing so struck the horse on the nose. 
 The horse, unaccustomed to floral tributes and 
 already excited by the lights and the noise, reared 
 on his hind legs and backed into the crowd, almost 
 unseating Mr. Chart, who frantically grasped the 
 animal round the neck to avoid falling off. The 
 act drop descended. Mr. Chart angrily asked Mr. 
 Blakeley: "What the devil did you do that for?" 
 to which Mr. Blakeley replied with asperity: 
 "Why don't you ride a horse that knows his busi- 
 ness?" 
 
 Several new plays were produced during the 
 season, notably "Gilded Youth," by Sir Charles 
 Young, author of "Jim, the Penman," etc., and 
 "Marlborough," by Henry Vining. We had few 
 stars in Brighton, but one very interesting visitor 
 was the American comedian, tT. K. Emmett, who 
 played "Fritz, Our Cousin German." As I re- 
 member, he was the first actor to present the 
 character of the newly-arrived emigrant with a 
 German dialect to the English public. The play 
 was original, Mr. Emmett sang several catchy 
 songs and was a substantial success. 
 
 I did not play in the pantomime, although a 
 most elaborate one was produced, but we encoun- 
 tered a very unpleasant experience.
 
 78 TIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 A young lady was specially engaged for the 
 leading boy's part in the burlesque opening. At 
 the rehearsals it was found she had no knowledge 
 of music and could not sing. Mr. Chart protested 
 at her lack of vocal ability, but the young lady 
 asserted, "It was the province of the orchestra to 
 furnish the music, she would speak the words." 
 Mr. Chart demanded her resignation. She in- 
 sisted on the engagement being kept, so Mr. Chart 
 compelled her to rehearse, dress, make up and go 
 through her part every day in a large room at 
 the back of the stage, with only the prompter for 
 an audience, while another actress was engaged to 
 appear in the public performance. 
 
 The young lady heroically complied with these 
 conditions for a week, but finally succumbed to 
 discipline and left us. It was rather a drastic 
 remedy for incompetency, but not without an ele- 
 ment of justice. 
 
 My last winter season in England was spent at 
 the Royal Alexandra Theatre in Liverpool, under 
 the management of Mr. Edward Saker. The 
 Alexandra was a splendid theatre standing next 
 to the Lime-Street railroad station and is well 
 known to many visiting Americans. 
 
 The company was a fine one and included Mr. 
 Fred Thorne, the comedian, who shortly afterward 
 came to this country and made such a pronounced 
 success as Fluellin, the Welsh captain, in "Henry 
 the Fifth"; Mr. Hargreaves and Mr. Constantine, 
 who both appeared here later in various com- 
 panies. Mr. Harry Loveday was our musical di-
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 79 
 
 rector and subsequently accompanied Sir Henry 
 Irving to the States in the same capacity. 
 
 All of the principal stars came to us in the 
 course of the season, and at Christmas the annual 
 Pantomime was produced, the opening founded on 
 Moore's poem and called "Little Lalla Rookh." 
 
 I played a part in it called Fadladeen, in which 
 the author had written a song, "Oh! Mother, Part 
 My Curly Hair," a parody on the tenor songs of 
 the minstrel companies. As I have before con- 
 fessed, my vocal ability is very limited and I an- 
 ticipated the fate of the young lady at Brighton. 
 Mr. Loveday was very patient with me, and 
 though I must have driven him nearly to distrac- 
 tion, he finally managed to get the tune into my 
 head and I got through with it, but I noticed Mr. 
 Loveday invariably left his conductor's seat and 
 his repetiteur to conduct before I reached my 
 vocal number. 
 
 We produced some new plays in the spring, 
 notably "The Avalanche," by Miss Braddon, the 
 novelist, and "Sithors to Grind," a domestic 
 drama by George Ralph Walker. The latter play 
 was intended as a vehicle for Mr. Saker to star 
 in, and after our Liverpool production it was taken 
 to the Globe Theatre in London for metropolitan 
 endorsement. 
 
 A London engagement was, and still is, the goal 
 of every English actor's ambition, and I consid- 
 ered myself very fortunate in having such a good 
 part as Ned Bluff in "Sithors to Grind" in which 
 to make my first metropolitan appearance.
 
 80 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 Ned Bluff was a brawny young blacksmith, in 
 love with a little girl, a cripple and an apparently 
 hopeless invalid. He was rugged and manly, but 
 sympathetic and tender, and I was in love with 
 the part. 
 
 The play was well received. I was called before 
 the curtain and we all thought we had a success, 
 but awaited with anxiety for the verdict of the 
 critics in the newspapers of the following day. 
 
 I was living at home and was sleeping late after 
 the excitement of the preceding night. My 
 mother brought all of the morning papers to my 
 bedroom. I woke at her entrance, looked at her 
 anxiously, knowing she had read them all, when 
 she said: "Well, my dear, they say you are very 
 bad." But her pleased expression belied her 
 words. I glanced over them, these fateful criti- 
 cisms, rapidly at first, then read them word by 
 word. 
 
 The notices were all very favorable, and John 
 Oxenford, the celebrated dramatic critic of the 
 "Times," was good enough to say: "Mr. Warde, 
 as Ned Bluff, looked as if he had stepped out of one 
 of Charles Dickens' Christmas books and acted his 
 part with sincerity and skill." 
 
 Mr. J. H. Barnes, more familiarly known as 
 Jack Barnes, one of the handsomest actors in Eng- 
 land, played an important part in "Sithors to 
 Grind." He subsequently came to America in 
 support of Adelaide Neilson and has more recently 
 appeared here in several productions of modern 
 plays with credit and distinction.
 
 Edwin Booth
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 81 
 
 At the close of my London engagement I accom- 
 panied a young and ambitious lady star with a 
 new play to try her fortunes in Scotland. She 
 had assembled together a number of good actors, 
 it being late in the season, and we played in Aber- 
 deen, Glasgow and Edinburgh. 
 
 In the company was a young man of about my 
 own age named Robert Brough, a nephew of 
 Lionel Brough, the distinguished London come- 
 dian. Bob and I became great friends. 
 
 One morning at Aberdeen we had gone some lit- 
 tle distance out of town to the shore to bathe. 
 While we were in the water it suddenly occurred to 
 us that the royal train carrying Queen Victoria to 
 her Scotch castle at Balmoral was to pass the 
 Junction, about two miles distant, at 12 o'clock. 
 We hastily made for shore, looked at our watches 
 and found we had but a short time to make it, but 
 as neither of us had "ever seen Her Majesty we 
 decided to make the effort. 
 
 We had no towels, but rapidly dressed and 
 started on a run for the Junction. When we ar- 
 rived we found the royal train at the platform and 
 a semi-circle of people bareheaded standing re- 
 spectfully round the royal carriage. The Queen 
 and her youngest daughter, Princess Beatrice, 
 were at the window, and John Brown, her High- 
 land servant, on guard at the door. We pushed 
 our way through the crowd to the front and took 
 off our hats. Our movement attracted the atten- 
 tion of the Queen and Princess, who both burst out
 
 82 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 laughing at our appearance, and the crowd joined 
 in the fun. 
 
 We were without collars or ties; we carried 
 them in our hands. Our clothes were disarranged. 
 We were puffing with our exertions, flushed with 
 exercise, and our hair dishevelled and damp, 
 standing every-which-way from the salt water. 
 We were embarrassed by the attention we at- 
 tracted, but we saw the Queen and our object was 
 gained. 
 
 In the company was a gentleman named Mr. 
 George Warde. Both he and I lived in the same 
 square in Edinburgh. These squares are like a 
 cul de sac having only one entrance. George 
 Warde, Bob Brough and myself were starting out 
 for a walk one morning I think we were bound 
 for Holyrood when we met a telegraph boy com- 
 ing into the square. 
 
 As telegrams were infrequent we inquired 
 whom his message was for. He answered: "A 
 play actor named Warde. " " Which Warde, ' ' we 
 asked, "George or F. B.?" "F. B.," he replied. 
 I took the message and found to my delight it was 
 a proposition from Messrs. Jarrett and Palmer, 
 managers of Booth's Theatre, New York, through 
 their London agents, asking me the salary I re- 
 quired to come to America and play the juvenile 
 leading parts at their theatre.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 My Arrival and First Experiences in America. 
 
 I was surprised and delighted at the prospect 
 of going to America. Visions of emolument and 
 success in a new world rose before me. My 
 friends congratulated me. We continued our 
 walk, discussing the telegram, the salary I should 
 ask, the plays in which I should probably appear, 
 life and expenses in New York and every angle of 
 the proposition without either of us knowing a 
 thing about life and conditions in the United 
 States. 
 
 I replied to the telegram, and after some nego- 
 tiations received a contract for a year's engage- 
 ment at a salary of more than four times the 
 amount I had ever received for my services in 
 England. 
 
 Our season closed in Edinburgh and I hastened 
 to my home, then in the suburbs of Liverpool, 
 completed arrangements for my family, who were 
 to join me later, if I were successful, and prepared 
 for my voyage. 
 
 I sailed from Liverpool early in July on the 
 Inman steamship City of Richmond. 
 
 It happened that Mr. Toole, the comedian, was 
 
 83<
 
 84 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 to sail for New York at the same time, but aboard 
 another ship, the Republic, of the White Star Line. 
 The tenders of both vessels left from the same 
 landing stage. There were a great number of 
 friends to wish God-speed to Mr. Toole, and I 
 shared in their good wishes. Just before going 
 aboard Mr. Toole in his genial way came to me 
 and said: "Warde, I'll bet you a bottle of wine I 
 get there first." I accepted the challenge and 
 won by five hours. 
 
 Our last good-bys were said, the signal "All 
 aboard" was given and, with a benizon of love 
 that shone through the tears of the dear ones left 
 behind and the cheers and good wishes of friends, 
 I embarked on the ship that was to take me to the 
 new world, when I was destined to make my! 
 future home and to find the prosperity and happi- 
 ness I have so abundantly enjoyed. 
 
 The City of Richmond was a fine vessel, splen- 
 didly officered and manned, and, being midsum- 
 mer, we had a very smooth passage. I did not, 
 however, escape the discomfort of seasickness, but 
 an old veteran of the navy, Sir John Britton, took 
 me in hand. He kept me walking the deck and 
 nibbling a ship biscuit till I got over it, and I 
 suffered no more on the trip. 
 
 I was particularly fortunate in sharing my state- 
 room with Lawrence Button, a New Yorker, and 
 practically my first American acquaintance, which 
 resulted in an intimate friendship that continued 
 for many years. 
 
 Lawrence Hutton was a man of literary taste,
 
 Frederick Warde as lago
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 85 
 
 an author, a dramatic critic and a traveler; in 
 fact, he was then returning to the United States 
 from Iceland, where he had accompanied Dr. 
 Kane's expedition. 
 
 Hutton used to say the first favorable impres- 
 sion I made upon him was by the sight of a pair 
 of very symmetrical limbs descending from the 
 upper berth in the stateroom, which he subse- 
 quently recognized with renewed admiration in 
 a pair of rose-colored silk tights on the stage of 
 Booth's Theatre. 
 
 On the voyage I was introduced to the American 
 game of poker, and I was quite fortunate, at least 
 I thought so at the time; but a disastrous experi- 
 ence later led me to change my opinion. Alto- 
 gether the voyage was very pleasant, and my fel- 
 low travelers exceedingly courteous and agreeable. 
 
 In the morning of Sunday, July 28, I awoke to 
 find myself in New York harbor. We had arrived 
 during the night, and were anchored at the quar- 
 antine station, having made the trip in ten days, 
 an excellent record at that time. 
 
 I was in America. In the distance I saw the 
 city of New York, and the tall towers for the 
 Brooklyn Bridge, not yet completed. I saw the 
 big ferry boats with their huge walking beams; 
 the tugs bustling about; the ships at anchor; the 
 great round emigrant building at Castle Garden, 
 everything seemed so big and so busy. A feeling 
 of awe, akin to fear, seemed to possess me as I 
 looked round the harbor. What would be my fate 
 in this new land? Would they like me? Would I
 
 86 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 be successful? These were my thoughts as we 
 came up the bay. 
 
 We reached our slip, a crowd was on the dock 
 to welcome us. Before the gangways were low- 
 ered, a big tall man on the dock shouted to the 
 captain: "Have you got Fred Warde aboard?" 
 Surprised beyond measure, I inquired who he was 
 and learned he was an officer of the customs, 
 known as "Baby" Bliss, a great friend of my new 
 managers, Messrs. Jarrett and Palmer. Subse- 
 quently he became a great friend of mine. Many 
 greetings of welcome, and many good wishes were 
 expressed as I landed on the dock. "Baby" Bliss 
 passed my baggage and piloted me to the Metro- 
 politan Hotel, then on Broadway, near Houston 
 street. 
 
 The following day I reported at the theatre and 
 met my new managers for the first time. I found 
 them most affable and friendly. They treated me 
 with more familiarity than I had been accustomed 
 to from managers in England, made me feel very 
 welcome, and I began to realize the meaning of 
 American democracy. 
 
 This impression was emphasized at the first re- 
 hearsal, when I met John McCullough, little 
 dreaming that our first meeting was to be the 
 beginning of several years of close association. 
 
 John McCullough was one of the leading trage- 
 dians of the American stage; a big broad-shoul- 
 dered man with a large head and strong features. 
 He looked to me more like a farmer than an actor.
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 87 
 
 His manner was akin to his appearance; frank, 
 open and honest. 
 
 He gave me a most cordial greeting and made 
 me feel that I had met a friend; in fact, every 
 member of the company received me with the 
 warmest expression of good will, and before the 
 first rehearsal was over I was very much at home 
 with them. 
 
 On Monday evening I joined a party of gentle- 
 men that included Mr. Toole and Mr. Loveday 
 to see the first performance on any stage of Rice's 
 "Evangeline," at Niblo's Theatre. The cast in- 
 cluded Mr. W. H. Crane and Mr. George L. Knight, 
 both of whom enjoyed great popularity for many 
 years. Mr. Knight has passed away, but Mr. 
 Crane, affectionately known as "Billy" Crane, 
 still lives, and with hosts of admiring friends 
 throughout the country I join in the hope that he 
 may long remain with us and enjoy his distin- 
 guished position as the Dean of American Come- 
 dians. 
 
 After the performance at Niblo's we were taken 
 across Broadway to Tony Pastor's Theatre to 
 see and be presented to the most beautiful girl on 
 the American stage, Miss Lillian Russell. After 
 our introduction we were all ready to acknowledge 
 the lady fully justified the distinction, and time 
 has matured but not diminished the beauty of her 
 youth. 
 
 Booth's Theatre, New York, in 1874, was prob- 
 ably the most complete and beautiful in the coun-
 
 88 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 try. It had been built some years before by 
 Edwin Booth without consideration of the cost. 
 
 The entrance was imposing, the foyer and stair- 
 cases lofty and wide, and the entire scheme of 
 decoration of the theatre proper, dignified and 
 beautiful. 
 
 The stage had all of the latest mechanical ap- 
 pliances and inventions, the Green Room was at- 
 tractive, the dressing-rooms spacious, convenient 
 and comfortable. 
 
 The entire building was worthy of its distin- 
 guished founder and the purpose he had in view, 
 which he told me later was to leave a lasting monu- 
 ment to the name of his father, the late Junius 
 Brutus Booth, and himself. 
 
 It was a calamity, not only for Mr. Booth, but 
 to the drama and to the country when financial 
 reverses, caused by the great obligations he had 
 incurred in its erection, compelled him to give it 
 up. 
 
 The theatre was now leased by Messrs. Jarrett 
 & Palmer, and was reopened under their manage- 
 ment on August 10, 1874, with a new play by Dion 
 Boucicault, called "Belle Lamar," in which John 
 McCullough was to make his first appearance in 
 a modern part, and I to make my first appearance 
 in America. 
 
 Belle Lamar was a play of the Civil War period. 
 John McCullough played the part of Col. Philip 
 Bligh, and I, that of Capt. Marston Pike, both offi- 
 cers in the Union army. The cast also included 
 Katherine Rogers Randolph, an English actress o!
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 89 
 
 repute, and Frank Mackay, a very brilliant char- 
 acter actor who played the part of Gen. Stonewall 
 Jackson, the celebrated Confederate leader. 
 
 Mr. Mackay afterward was a prominent member 
 of the Union Square Company, was the original of 
 the character of Pierre, the cripple, in the "Two 
 Orphans," and is now more than 80 years of age, 
 yet is still in active life, a teacher of acting and 
 public speaking and officer of the Actors' Fund of 
 America. 
 
 Dion Boucicault, of course, directed the pro- 
 duction of his play, and introduced some novel 
 effects in the battle scenes, but how he could have 
 permitted John McCullough to appear in a brand 
 new and modern uniform of the United States 
 cavalry with bright gilt buttons and brilliant 
 epaulettes, when on active service in a long and 
 strenuous campaign, I could never understand, but 
 he did. 
 
 I was fortunate enough to make a favorable im- 
 pression and received very flattering notice from 
 the press; but the play was not a great success 
 and was withdrawn after a short run. 
 
 Shortly after the production of "Belle Lamar" 
 at Booth's Theatre, Mr. John L. Toole, the Eng- 
 lish comedian, made his American debut at Wai- 
 lack's Theatre in a play by Henry J. Byron called 
 "Wig and Gown." 
 
 The choice of this play for Mr. Toole 's first ap- 
 pearance was unfortunate. The plot was based 
 upon the love and loyalty of a poor, brieflless bar- 
 rister for his wig and gown, the symbols of his
 
 90 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 profession, which he is obliged to sacrifice on ac- 
 count of poverty. As neither wig nor gown were 
 used in American courts of law at that time, the 
 audience could not sympathize with his grief at 
 the loss of such apparently superfluous articles, 
 and the play did not please. 
 
 There was then no international copyright law. 
 Mr. Toole's popular plays "Dearer Than Life" 
 and "Uncle Dick's Darling" had already been 
 played in this country by American comedians, 
 and it was not until he presented "Off the Line," a 
 play of universal human sympathy, that Mr. Toole 
 received the recognition his talents deserved. 
 
 After Mr. Toole's engagement, a new Irish play 
 by Dion Boucicault called "The Shaughran" was 
 produced at Wallack's in which Mr. H. J. Monta- 
 gue, a very handsome and popular young English 
 actor, made his first appearance. He was an im- 
 mediate success and remained at Wallack's 
 Theatre playing a number of parts for several 
 years. 
 
 Mr. Montague died in San Francisco in 1878, 
 under circumstances that I shall describe later. 
 
 But to return to Booth's Theatre. "Belle 
 Lamar" was followed by the revival of a very 
 old play, "Venice Preserved," by Thomas Otway. 
 Mr. Boucicault had revised the play and intro- 
 duced a very eloquent passage of powerful invec- 
 tive from Byron's Marino Faliero, which John 
 McCullough delivered in the character of Pierre. 
 I played the part of Jaffier. 
 
 "Venice Preserved" introduced a young Eng-
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 91 
 
 lish actress, Miss Fanny Brough, to America in 
 the part of Belvidera. 
 
 Belvidera was a very heavy tragic role. Unfor- 
 tunately Miss Brough, who was charmingly effec- 
 tive as a domestic heroine, was utterly inade- 
 quate to the demands of a part like Belvidera, and 
 the poor little lady terminated her engagement 
 and returned to England at the end of the first 
 week. 
 
 At the time of which I am writing there were 
 four important theatres in New York, all bearing 
 the individual stamp of their respective managers, 
 gentlemen of culture and purpose, who took great 
 pride in the excellence and personnel of their com- 
 panies, notably Wallack's Theatre by Mr. Lester 
 Wallack, Daly's Theatre by Augustin Daly, the 
 Union Square Theatre by Messrs. Sheridan, Shook 
 and A. M. Palmer, and Booth's Theatre, by 
 Mesrss. Harry Palmer and Henry Jarrett. 
 
 The principal members of these companies tab- 
 ulated below include the names of many ladies 
 and gentlemen who were held in great esteem at 
 the time and several of whom subsequently 
 achieved national distinction. Their loyal serv- 
 ice and personal integrity gained for them an af- 
 fectionate regard, which the present system of 
 itinerancy, except in a few instances, does not af- 
 ford: 
 
 Wallack's H. J. Montague, John Gilbert, Harry 
 Beckett, Joseph Polk, Ada Dyas, Madame Ponisi, Effie 
 Germon,
 
 92 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 Daly's George Clarke, Louis James, James Lewis, 
 W. J. Lemoyne, Fanny Davenport, Mrs. Gilbert, Ada 
 Oilman. 
 
 Union Square C. R. Thome, Jr., McKee Ranlrin, 
 John Parselle, Stuart Robson, Kate Claxton, Mrs. Wil- 
 kins, Kitty Blanchard, Ida Vernon. 
 
 Booth's F. B. Warde, E. K. Collier, H. A. Weaver, 
 Charles Leclerq, H. A. Langdon, Rosa Rand, Mary 
 Wells. 
 
 Each theatre had a distinct policy and a clien- 
 tele that took not only an interest in the play but 
 in the individual performances of each member of 
 the cast. 
 
 A memorable event occurred at Booth's Theatre 
 during my first season there the farewell per- 
 formances of Charlotte Cushman, and her final ap- 
 pearance on the New York stage. 
 
 Charlotte Cushman was a wonderful woman, 
 masculine and strong in spite of her advanced 
 years, with a homely face, but with gentle man- 
 ners and a gracious kindness to all with whom she 
 came in contact. 
 
 At the time she was rehearsing and playing with 
 us she was suffering from a very painful disease 
 that ultimately caused her death, and we were cau- 
 tioned to be very considerate and careful if the 
 business of the play necessitated any personal con- 
 tact with her. 
 
 Miss Cushman belonged to what is known as the 
 "Macready School." She spoke her lines with 
 great precision and with remarkable clearness of
 
 Edwin Booth as Richelieu
 
 YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 93 
 
 enunciation, especially emphasizing her O's and 
 R's. Her business was definitely studied, and all 
 of her movements and gestures significantly ex- 
 act. 
 
 The engagement, as I remember, was for three 
 weeks, and Miss Cushman appeared in three of 
 her greatest parts: Queen Katherine in "Henry 
 VIII," Meg Merrilies in a dramatic version of Sir 
 Walter Scott's novel "Guy Mannering," and as 
 Lady Macbeth. 
 
 George Vandenhoff, a tragedian of note, was 
 specially engaged for the parts of Cardinal Wol- 
 sey in "Henry VIII," and "Macbeth." Mr. Van- 
 denhoff 's Wolsey was an impressive performance, 
 but in "Macbeth" a rheumatic or gouty condition 
 of his nether extremities compelled him to wear 
 soft felt shoes and to walk with difficulty, which 
 somewhat destroyed the illusion of that hardy 
 Scottish chieftain, the Thane of Cawdor. 
 
 I had the privilege of playing the parts of 
 Cromwell in "King Henry VIII," Macduff in 
 "Macbeth" and Henry Bertram in "Guy jMan- 
 nering" with this wonderful woman and great 
 actress. 
 
 Our houses were packed to the doors at every 
 performance and on the last night of Miss Gush- 
 man's engagement, November 7, 1874, a great 
 demonstration of esteem and affection, in which 
 the Mayor and leading citizens of New York par- 
 ticipated, took place at the end of the perform- 
 ance. 
 
 The play was "Macbeth." At its conclusion
 
 94 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 Miss Cushman appeared on the stage in modern 
 dress, surrounded by the company and a large 
 number of citizens. An address was read and pre- 
 sented to her on the part of the city by William 
 Cullen Bryant, an original poem especially writ- 
 ten by Richard Henry Stoddard was recited, a 
 laurel wreath presented by the Arcadian Club, 
 and after the response the curtain fell to the music 
 of a great orchestra and the cheers and bravos of 
 the immense audience assembled to do honor to 
 probably the greatest actress that ever trod the 
 American stage. 
 
 But that was not all. When Miss Cushman left 
 the theatre and entered her carriage the people in 
 the street took out the horses and attaching a 
 Jong rope to it, dragged it from the theatre to 
 the Fifth Avenue Hotel, where another demon- 
 stration took place that included music, speeches 
 and a grand display of fireworks in Madison 
 Square. 
 
 The same company that had supported Miss 
 Cushman at Booth's Theatre went with her to 
 play a final week at the Academy of Music, Phila- 
 delphia. 
 
 The same plays were presented, and the great 
 academy was packed at every performance. The 
 enthusiasm was great, and her final appearance 
 an ovation. 
 
 On the last night of our Philadelphia engage- 
 ment Miss Cushman paid me the great compli- 
 ment of saying: "It was reserved for her last 
 performance of 'Macbeth' to witness the best
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 95 
 
 rendition of Macduff she had ever seen," and un- 
 solicited, gave me an autographed portrait of her- 
 self, which I still possess and which occupies an 
 honored place on the walls of my library.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A Season of Important Productions and Distin- 
 guished Successes. 
 
 The next production at Booth's Theatre was a 
 very picturesque and romantic melodrama called 
 "The Hero of the Hour," introducing a young 
 Prench actor, Henri Stuart, to America, but al- 
 though M. Stuart made a most favorable impres- 
 sion the play failed to please and was withdrawn 
 in favor of an adaptation of Dickens 's novel 
 "David Copperfield" by Andrew Halliday and 
 called "Little Em'ly." 
 
 George Fawcett Rowe in a most unique and ef- 
 fective impersonation of Wilkins Micawber was 
 the feature of the production. 
 
 I was originally cast for the part of Ham, but 
 I desired to play old Dan'l Peggotty as I was very 
 familiar with that type of character, having lived 
 at Yarmouth and known many of the old boatmen 
 on the beach, and had learned their dialect. 
 
 After some discussion, the management yielded 
 to my wishes, and I am happy to say I justified 
 myself by making a most emphatic success in the 
 part. 
 
 The cast was a splendid one and included Miss 
 
 96
 
 B. L. Davenport as Brutus in "Julius Caesar"
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 97 
 
 Maud Granger as Little Em'ly, Helen Tracy as 
 Rose Dartle, Mary Wells as Betsy Trotwood, H. A. 
 Weaver as Ham, Charles Leclerq as Uriah Heep 
 and Claude Burroughs, who afterward met his 
 death in the Brooklyn Theatre fire, as David Cop- 
 perfield. 
 
 The play was intended to run for one week only, 
 but its success was so great it was retained in the 
 bill for six weeks and played to splendid business. 
 
 It was in this play that I was confirmed by prac- 
 tical experience in my theory that the province 
 of an actor is to simulate feeling, not to feel in 
 other words to act, and not to be. 
 
 I was taking luncheon with my friend Lawrence 
 Hutton, when he said: "I am told you have made 
 quite a hit as old Peggotty. I am coming to see 
 you this afternoon, so don't give a modified mati- 
 nee performance, but do your best." 
 
 I went to the theatre determined to impress 
 my friend, and threw myself with intensity into 
 the part, so much so, that in the scene where I 
 had to describe with deep pathos my wanderings 
 in search of my erring niece, I lost control of my 
 emotions and fell sobbing on the shoulder of 
 Claude Burroughs, who was on the stage with me. 
 It was some moments before I could proceed. The 
 stage manager thought I was ill, and sent the call 
 boy running for water. The leader of the orches- 
 tra left his seat and wanted to call a physician. 
 Poor Burroughs tried to restore me and the audi- 
 ence was getting restless and uncomfortable until 
 by a supreme effort I controlled myself and pro-
 
 98 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 ceeded with the dialogue, but the effect of the 
 scene had been entirely lost. 
 
 By simulating emotion I had moved my audi- 
 ence to tears, but by suffering the same emotion 
 I had lost control both of myself and them, and 
 instead of seeing Dan'l Peggotty and hearing his 
 pathetic recital of his travels, they saw only an 
 actor apparently in pain, struggling to speak his 
 lines. 
 
 On meeting Mr. Hutton afterward he compli- 
 mented me on the general performance of the 
 part, but asked: "What was the matter with you 
 in that scene with Claude Burroughs? You were 
 incoherent and mixed it up completely. Some 
 people sitting behind me said you had been drink- 
 ing. I knew that was not so, but what was it? 
 Were you ill?" 
 
 I explained the situation to Mr. Hutton, and 
 ever since have acted on the theory that the prov- 
 ince of an actor is to thoroughly understand the 
 emotions he has to portray and then act, not feel 
 them. 
 
 It was David Garrick who asserted, "The great- 
 est actor was the man who could make the audi- 
 ence cry and the prompter laugh at the same 
 time," and I cordially agree with him. 
 
 I was privileged to see and meet quite a number 
 of prominent American actors and actresses at 
 Booth's Theatre during my first season there, 
 notably Mr. and Mrs. Barney Williams in Irish 
 plays, Mr. Joseph Jefferson in Rip Van Winkle,
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 99 
 
 Mr. John Sleeper Clarke, the comedian, and Miss 
 Matilda Heron. 
 
 Miss Matilda Heron was quite an eccentric lady. 
 She had been the great Camille on the American 
 stage, but on the occasion to which I refer she 
 played Lady Macbeth. Mr. Vandenhoff was the 
 Macbeth, and I played Macduff. 
 
 The sleep walking scene of Lady Macbeth fol- 
 lows the one in which Macduff receives the news 
 of the murder of his wife and children, and termi- 
 nates with the agonized father swearing to avenge 
 them as he rushes off the stage. Miss Heron was 
 standing in the entrance clad in a white garment 
 and holding a lighted lamp in her hand, watching 
 the scene. As I rushed off, she dropped the lamp, 
 opened her arms, threw them round my neck, 
 kissed me on both cheeks, exclaiming, "By God, 
 Warde, you're a trump!" recovered her lamp be- 
 fore I recovered from my surprise, and went on 
 with her scene. 
 
 The feature production of the season was 
 Shakespeare's "Henry the Fifth," brought over 
 in its entirety from the Prince's Theatre, Man-/ 
 Chester, Eng., and reproduced here under the di- 
 rection of Mr. Charles Calvert, who came over 
 from England for the purpose. 
 
 "Henry V" was probably the most elaborate re- 
 vival of any Shakespearean play that had been 
 made in this country. The scenery was magnifi- 
 cent; the properties, armors, heraldic devices and 
 costumes were copied from authoritative sources,
 
 100 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 and the company especially selected for its pres- 
 entation. 
 
 Mr. George Rignold, a prominent English actor, 
 was engaged for the King, Mr. Fred Thorne for 
 Capt. Fuellin, and Mrs. Charles Calvert for Ru- 
 mor, as Chorus. 
 
 I was cast for Williams, a blunt English soldier, 
 a relatively unimportant part, if any speaking part 
 in Shakespeare's plays can be unimportant, on 
 the promise that as soon as the play was running 
 smoothly I should be permitted to retire from the 
 cast to go to England to bring my family over. 
 
 The cast of Henry V included Henri Stuart, as 
 the Dauphin of France, Henry Weaver as the 
 Duke of Exeter, E. K. Collier as Mount joy, Charles 
 Leclerq as Bardolph, C. B. Bishop as Pistol, Miss 
 Mary Wells as Dame Quickly, and many others. 
 
 The play was a very great success, but George 
 Rignold, who subsequently made the success of 
 his career as the King, was far from satisfactory 
 on the first night. 
 
 In appearance he was the perfection of hand- 
 some, heroic manhood, a veritable Greek god in 
 his regal robes and shining armor, but the magni- 
 tude of the production, and the importance of the 
 occasion, made poor George excessively nervous. 
 He forgot his lines, was confused in the business 
 and completely lost his self-control. 
 
 The management became alarmed, so much so, 
 that I was instructed as soon as I was through 
 with my part to go home, study the part of the
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 101 
 
 king and report for rehearsal the next morning, as 
 perfect as possible. 
 
 I spent the night in concentrated study, keeping 
 awake by the aid of black coffee and cracked ice, 
 and by the time for rehearsal was practically per- 
 fect, but a night's rest after the excitement of the 
 first performance had restored Rignold to his nor- 
 mal condition; he rehearsed splendidly, and on the 
 second night and thereafter played the part with 
 so much dignity, grace and skill that he estab- 
 lished himself as one of the most popular actors 
 England had sent to this country. 
 
 Frederick Thome, the comedian, made a most 
 distinguished success as Capt. Fuellin, second only 
 to that of Mr. Rignold. His slight, trim figure, 
 martial bearing, and Welsh accent fitting the part 
 perfectly. 
 
 I cannot conceive of the three rogues, Pistol, the 
 braggart, the bibulous Bardolph and Nym, the 
 pickpocket, being in better hands than those of 
 C. B. Bishop, Charles Leclerq and Edwin Irving. 
 In fact the entire cast was admirable and well de- 
 served the success achieved. 
 
 The heavy plate armors worn by the actors were 
 somewhat uncomfortable, and several minor acci- 
 dents occurred from the mailed feet which were 
 very long and pointed. 
 
 One unlucky warrior tripped at the top of a 
 flight of stairs leading to the stage and rolled down 
 to the bottom, making a noise like a thousand tin 
 cans in motion. It happened in a quiet scene, of 
 course. King Henry was on his knees and had
 
 102 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 just begun the prayer with the line, "Oh, God of 
 Battles, steel my soldiers' hearts!" when the crash 
 came. The interpolations by Mr. Rignold, into 
 that prayer, as the poor warrior struggled to re- 
 cover himself, were vivid and picturesque, but not 
 adapted for publication. 
 
 An amusing incident occurred in the scene in 
 which Fluellin compels Pistol to eat the leek that 
 he (Fluellin) wears in his cap on St. David's Day, 
 and which Pistol has insulted. It has to be done 
 near the footlights, and pretense is impossible. 
 A property leek with a tube in which a piece of 
 apple was inserted was the usual method em- 
 ployed, and Mr. Bishop, who had a great aver- 
 sion to onions in any form, ate the apple without 
 discomfort, but one night the property leek was 
 lost or misplaced; a real leek was substituted, and 
 poor Bishop had to eat the nauseating vegetable at 
 which his stomach revolted in full view of the au- 
 dience. Pistol's concluding line in the scene, 
 "All hell shall stir for this," had a stronger sig- 
 nificance than usual. 
 
 "Henry V" had quite a long run on its first pro- 
 duction and later in the season was revived and 
 was played successfully for five weeks more. 
 
 By this time I had many warm friends in New 
 York, and on my twenty-fourth birthday, Febru- 
 ary 23, a dinner was given in my honor at the Ar- 
 cadian Club, of which I had been elected a mem- 
 ber. The guests included Lawrence Hutton, Clar- 
 ence Livingston, Henry Palmer, Dan Gillette, 
 J. L. Toole, J. J. 'Kelly, the dramatic critic of*
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 103 
 
 the New York Herald, who afterward became a 
 member of the British Parliament, George Rig- 
 nold, Dan Harkins and George W. Howe, the 
 dramatic critic of the Evening Express, who read 
 the following poem: 
 
 "Come and award to Warde the praise that's due 
 For Williams, Pegotty and Macduff too. 
 But yesterday we George's praises rang 
 But yesternight on Frederick's praises sang. 
 Thus to good men we all do show regard, 
 And George and Frederick both had their reward. 
 So with the Motherland we all shake hands, 
 And fasten closer true and filial bands, 
 So does the Motherland adorn our stage, 
 And so do we accept the gentle gage. 
 Thus let it ever be, 'twixt mother, son, 
 And we thank England for the good she's done 
 In sending us across the stormy sea 
 Actors who claim the critic's fealty. 
 Let us bestow upon them kindly words, 
 And give to Frederick B. his just rewards." 
 "Henry V" had been running four weeks with 
 every prospect of continuing for some time when, 
 on a Monday morning, Mr. Jarrett sent for me and 
 said: "You want to go to England to bring your 
 wife over. We can spare you from the cast, so now 
 is the time to go. The Abyssinia of the Cunard 
 Line sails on Wednesday. Take that steamer, but 
 be sure and return in time to support Miss Neil- 
 son, who follows 'Henry V.' " Then as an after- 
 thought: "You had better cable your wife that 
 you are coming."
 
 104 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 Two days seemed a short time to prepare for an 
 ocean voyage, but I had already discovered that 
 things were done rapidly in America, so I as rap- 
 idly made my arrangements to follow Mr. Jarrett's 
 instructions. 
 
 In spite of the fact that I was in receipt of a 
 good salary, dollars were none too plentiful with 
 me and transatlantic telegrams were expensive, so 
 I made my cable to Mrs. Warde as brief as pos- 
 sible, simply saying: "Sail on Wednesday," and 
 I sailed. 
 
 On arriving at Liverpool I had wired again 
 from Queenstown the time of my arrival I was 
 met by my wife's sister. I inquired for my wife. 
 "She's gone!" "Gone where?" I asked. "To 
 America!" "When?" "On Wednesday, a week 
 ago as you directed in your telegram!" 
 
 Mrs. Warde had taken my cable for instructions 
 instead of information and had sailed on the Guion 
 Line steamer Idaho from Liverpool the same day 
 I had sailed from New York. 
 
 To make the play of cross purposes complete, we 
 had passed the Idaho in mid-ocean and saluted her 
 according to custom, neither my wife nor myself 
 dreaming of the comedy of errors that was in 
 progress. 
 
 I cabled immediately to my friend "Baby" Bliss 
 of the customs, who met the Idaho, fortunately a 
 slower ship than the Abyssinia, explained my ab- 
 sence to my wife, and took her to some mutual 
 friends who cared for her until I returned.
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 105 
 
 I disposed of my house in Liverpool, took a 
 hasty trip to London, and in four days was on my 
 return trip by the White Star steamer Republic, 
 arriving in New York within twenty-four days of 
 my departure with the firm determination to prac- 
 tice economy in other ways than by abbreviating 
 telegrams in the future. 
 
 The story of my misadventure, was, of course, 
 too good to keep. The newspapers published io 
 and for some time I had to endure with the best 
 grace I could assume the jesting of my friends who 
 saw more humor in the incident than I did. 
 
 The first run of "Henry V" came to an end, and 
 Adelaide Neilson appeared as Amy Robsart, in a 
 dramatization of Sir Walter Scott's novel "Kenil- 
 worth," in which I played the Earl of Leicester. 
 
 My reappearance was announced "after his trip 
 to Europe" and a number of friends, including a 
 delegation from the Arcadian Club, were present 
 to greet me. 
 
 Following several lines of eager anticipation 
 spoken by Amy, the Earl of Leicester makes a 
 quick entrance enveloped in a large riding cloak, 
 concealing a very handsome, heavily jeweled cos- 
 tume beneath. After an affectionate greeting, 
 Amy should lead the Earl to a seat on a slightly 
 raised dais, remove his cloak disclosing his gor- 
 geous dress, and then sit at his feet in adoring ad- 
 miration. 
 
 My entrance was through an arched opening. 
 A bar of wood about three inches high was the
 
 106 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 base of the arch. I caught my foot against this 
 bar and pitched headlong on the stage, leaving a 
 shoe behind me. My cloak flew in one direction, 
 my hat in another, whilst I lay like a spread eagle 
 in all my finery on the floor in the center of the 
 stage. 
 
 The audience roared with laughter. Miss Neil- 
 son was convulsed. I scrambled to my feet, 
 abashed and mortified. The good-natured audi- 
 ence gave me a hearty, encouraging round of ap- 
 plause. Miss Neilson controlled herself and we 
 proceeded with the play, but the historic dignity 
 and pride of Robert, Earl of Leicester, was not 
 greatly in evidence for some time. 
 
 In spite of my unfortunate accident the play 
 was a success. Miss Neilson was a beautiful Amy 
 Robsart and acted the part with charming sim- 
 plicity in the earlier scenes, and with a deep 
 pathos in the later ones, that completely capti- 
 vated the audience. 
 
 The cast was a remarkably strong one, and in- 
 cluded "Jack" Studley, a great Bowery favorite 
 as Sir Richard Varney, and Miss Ida Vernon, a 
 splendid actress, who is still living and now over 
 80 years of age, as Queen Elizabeth. 
 
 On the last night of Miss Neilson 's engagement 
 she played Pauline in "The Lady of Lyons." I 
 played Claude Melnotte. It was the last time I 
 had the privilege of playing with her. She made 
 one or two tours of this country with her own com- 
 pany, returned to Europe and died shortly after 
 in Paris.
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 107 
 
 As I look back over the intervening years, I re- 
 call her performances of Juliet, Rosalind and 
 Pauline distinctly, and though I have seen many 
 excellent renditions of these parts by ladies of 
 great ability and personal attraction, I have never 
 seen the equal of Adelaide Neilson. The charm 
 of her personal beauty, the sweetness of her voice, 
 her clear, well modulated enunciation and her ca- 
 pacity for deep emotion, combined with her sin- 
 cerity and earnestness, gave a quality to her act- 
 ing that was convincing and impressive. 
 
 At the conclusion of Miss Neilson's engagement, 
 an unfortunate performance of "Macbeth" was 
 given, with George Rignold in the title role, and 
 Clara Morris as Lady Macbeth. George Rignold 
 had made a remarkable success as King Henry 
 the Fifth, and Miss Morris was a great emotional 
 actress of national reputation, but neither of them 
 was adapted to this great Shakespearean tragedy. 
 Mr. Rignold was picturesque and virile as Mac- 
 beth, but entirely lacking in poetic imagination; 
 while Miss Morris as his wife sought to charm 
 her husband by feminine fascination rather than 
 to dominate him by her will. 
 
 The performance attracted a very large audi- 
 ence by the prominence and popularity of the prin- 
 cipals, but it was a general disappointment. 
 
 Miss Morris subsequently appeared in a very 
 old tragedy called "Jane Shore" in which she was 
 quite successful as the unhappy mistress of King 
 Edward the Fourth. 
 
 One or two benefit performances followed and
 
 108 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 brought the season, my first in America, to a close. 
 It had been a happy one to me. I had met several 
 of the most prominent stars in America. I had 
 played a variety of parts with general satisfaction. 
 I had made a number of warm admirers and 
 friends, and I was engaged for the following sea- 
 son at an increased salary.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 I Meet Edwin Booth, America's Greatest Actor. 
 
 Mr. Barry Sullivan, a tragedian of Irish birth 
 and striking personality, inaugurated our second 
 season. He played an engagement of three weeks 
 in "Richard III," "Hamlet," "Richelieu," and 
 "The Gamester." 
 
 Mr. Sullivan was not a genial gentleman in the 
 theatre. He was aggressively domineering and 
 inclined to be very sarcastic. He did not admire 
 American democracy; but he was a fine actor, the 
 best Duke of Gloster in "Richard III" I ever saw. 
 
 Mr. Sullivan did not approve of elaborate 
 scenery. We were rehearsing "Richard III." A 
 very fine mediaeval street scene that Mr. Booth 
 had used in the same play, with quaint gables and 
 characteristic architecture was set for the second 
 act, but Mr. Sullivan would not have it. He said, 
 "Take it away. Give me a simple street drop and 
 an arch. I want the audience to look at me, not at 
 the scenery." Throughout his engagement he in- 
 sisted on the same principle of simplicity, assert- 
 ing "Elaborate scenic display attracts the atten- 
 tion of the audience from the play. As long as the 
 scenery is not inappropriate their imagination will 
 supply the details." 
 
 109
 
 110 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 Mr. Sullivan was a very skillful swordsman. 
 At the close of the play of Richard III, he fought 
 a terrific broadsword combat with Mr. James 
 Cathcart who traveled with him, playing the Earl 
 of Richmond. It was a fitting climax to his won- 
 derfully virile performance of the bloodthirsty 
 king. 
 
 Beverley, in "The Gamester," was another 
 striking performance of Mr. Sullivan. "The 
 Gamester' ' was a very old-fashioned tragedy, and 
 only the powerful acting of the leading part by 
 this distinguished actor made it attractive. 
 
 I played the Duke of Buckingham, in "Richard 
 III"; Laertes, in "Hamlet"; De Mauprat, in 
 "Richelieu"; and Stukeley, in "The Gamester"; 
 with Mr. Sullivan. 
 
 An attempt was made by the management of the 
 Grand Opera House in New York, which was only 
 two blocks removed from Booth's Theatre, to 
 arouse national rivalry and prejudice against Mr. 
 Sullivan by announcing the engagement of Mr. 
 E. L. Davenport, and emphasizing the fact that he 
 was an American tragedian and was supported by 
 an American company in practically the same rep- 
 ertoire of plays given by Mr. Sullivan, who was 
 announced as "The Irish Tragedian." 
 
 Mr. Davenport was a very fine actor, and his 
 company individually and generally excellent, but 
 the attempt to create any feeling of national pre- 
 judice was fortunately unsuccessful. 
 
 The engagement of Barry Sullivan was followed 
 by that of George Belmore, an English character
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 111 
 
 actor of great reputation and ability, who came to 
 this country under the management of Samuel Col- 
 ville. 
 
 Mr. Belmore appeared as Nat Gosling, an old 
 jockey, in a production of Dion Boucicault's rac- 
 ing drama, "The Flying Scud." It was his orig- 
 inal creation in London, and he made a great suc- 
 cess in New York in spite of the fact that he was 
 a very sick man during the entire engagement. 
 Mr. Belmore also appeared as Newman Noggs in 
 a dramatic version of Nicholas Nickleby. 
 
 I played in both productions and at the con- 
 clusion of the New York engagement accompanied 
 Mr. Belmore to the Brooklyn Theatre in Brooklyn, 
 where on the Saturday matinee he became so ill it 
 was with the greatest difficulty he finished the 
 play. At the night performance I played the old 
 jockey, studying the part as best I could between 
 the two performances. 
 
 I got through very well under the circumstances 
 until I came to a song and a dance with the 
 younger jockeys. The dance I managed fairly, but 
 the song well, the composer would not have rec- 
 ognized it. 
 
 "The Flying Scud" introduced Miss Rosa Rand 
 as leading lady to Booth's Theatre, New York, 
 and Miss Maud Harrison to the stage at the 
 Brooklyn Theatre. Both ladies subsequently be- 
 came very popular in their profession. 
 
 The Booth's Theatre Company were then sent 
 on a short tour of the New England towns in "The 
 Two Orphans." This play had been produced at
 
 112 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 the Union Square Theatre in New York, and had 
 made a great hit, which I am proud to say we 
 duplicated on our tour. 
 
 Our cast was an exceptionally strong one and 
 included: H. A. Weaver, as the Count de Linieres; 
 Frank C. Bangs, as the Chevalier de Vaudrey; 
 E. K. Collier, as Jacques Frochard; F. B. Warde, 
 as Pierre, the cripple; Rose Rand, as Louise, the 
 blind girl; Rose Lisle, as Henriette, her sister, and 
 Mary Wells, as Mme. Frochard. 
 
 We gave the first performances of the play out- 
 side of New York, visiting New Haven, Hartford, 
 Springfield and Providence, and then returned to 
 the city. 
 
 During the run of "Henry the Fifth," the pre- 
 ceding season, Messrs. Jarrett and Palmer had en- 
 gaged George Rignold to play Marc Antony in a 
 grand revival of Julius Caesar they had in con- 
 templation. The proposition being a quintette of 
 stars in the five principal characters, viz.: 
 
 E. L. Davenport, as Brutus; Lawrence Barrett, 
 as Cassius; George Rignold, as Marc Antony; F. B. 
 Warde, as Julius Caesar; Frank C. Bangs, as 
 Casca. 
 
 In the meantime George Rignold made a visit to 
 England and discussed the proposed arrangement 
 with his friends, who advised him not to place him- 
 self in such direct association and contrast with 
 two such popular American actors as Lawrence 
 Barrett and E. L. Davenport. 
 
 They also pointed out to him how dependent an 
 actor playing Marc Antony was for his success
 
 Lawrence Barrett
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 113 
 
 upon the efficient support he received from the 
 mob in the scene of his address over the body of 
 Caesar, commonly but erroneously called Marc 
 Antony's oration, and suggested that a feeling of 
 jealousy on the part of the American actors might 
 work to his disadvantage. 
 
 Mr. Rignold was evidently impressed by these 
 arguments, for on his return to America he de- 
 clined to play the part. 
 
 Jarrett and Palmer then decided to make it a 
 three star combination with Davenport, Barrett 
 and Frank Bangs as Marc Antony. 
 
 I was to play Julius Caesar, as the leading man 
 of the company, but was not to be starred. 
 
 Though I was by no means entitled to stellar 
 dignity that honor had been promised me and I 
 had been proudly anticipating it for months. I 
 was deeply mortified and tendered my resigna- 
 tion. 
 
 Much influence was brought to bear on me to re- 
 consider the matter, but my pride, or perhaps my 
 vanity, was deeply wounded and I would not do 
 so, but left the company. 
 
 Mr. Milnes Levick was engaged in my place. 
 The revival of Julius Caesar was a great success 
 and had a very long run, due in a great measure 
 to the activities of Mr. Joseph Tooker, better 
 known as Commodore Tooker, the acting mana- 
 ger of the theatre. 
 
 Commodore Tooker was a man of much orig- 
 inality in the way of advertising, and I say it with 
 great esteem that I was very fond of him. He
 
 114 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 displayed considerable audacity in carrying out 
 his designs. 
 
 He secured the co-operation of Sam Carpenter, 
 the good natured General Passenger Agent of the 
 Pennsylvania Railroad, and they induced that 
 great corporation, as well as the other connecting 
 transcontinental railroads to sidetrack their regu- 
 lar passenger trains to permit "A Special" carry- 
 ing Lawrence Barrett, and Jarrett and Palmer's 
 "Henry the Fifth" company to make the journey 
 from New York to San Francisco in eighty-four 
 hours. The feat was accomplished, establishing a 
 world record and resulted in an advertisement Tor 
 Jarrett and Palmer and the play of Henry the 
 Fifth that attracted the attention of the entire 
 country. 
 
 He endeavored to induce the State Legislature 
 at Albany to adjourn and come to New York to wit- 
 ness a performance of Julius Caesar. 
 
 Other scehemes of more or less magnitude he 
 originated and in many instances succeeded in 
 carrying them to.a successful issue. 
 
 I have seen and heard of much of the work of 
 the modern publicity or press agent, but I do not 
 think that any of them have ever conceived and 
 carried out such great advertising schemes as did 
 the good old Commodore. 
 
 As I look back, I question the wisdom of my ac- 
 tion in resigning from that distinguished cast of 
 Julius Caesar, but discreet or otherwise, fortune 
 favored me, for I was immediately engaged by 
 John T. Ford of the Grand Opera House at Balti-
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 115 
 
 more to act as principal support to Edwin Booth 
 on a tour of the South to begin at once. 
 
 Nothing could have been more agreeable to me 
 than to meet and be so prominently associated 
 with the most distinguished American actor, and 
 to play in such a congenial repertoire of Shake- 
 spearean and classic plays that included ''Ham- 
 let,'* "Othello," "Richard the Second," "King 
 Lear," "The Merchant of Venice," "Much Ado 
 About Nothing," "Richlieu," "The Apostate," 
 and ' ' The Lady of Lyons. ' ' I was to play Laertes 
 in "Hamlet," lago in "Othello," Bolingbroke in 
 "Richard the Second," Gratiano in "The Mer- 
 chant of Venice," Edgar in "King Lear," Don 
 Pedro in "Much Ado About Nothing"; De Mau- 
 prat in "Richelieu"; Hemeya, a Moor, in "The 
 Apostate," and alternate Othello and lago. 
 
 I had played many of the parts with other tra- 
 gedians, and knew the lines and business, but 
 Othello, Bolingbroke and the part in "The Apos- 
 tate" were new to me. 
 
 My first meeting with Edwin Booth was on the 
 morning of Monday, January 3, 1876, on the stage 
 at Baltimore. John T. Ford practically controlled 
 the theatrical business in the entire country south 
 of Baltimore, and it was Mr. Booth's first tour in 
 that section of the country since the war and the 
 assassination of President Lincoln by his brother, 
 John Wilkes Booth. 
 
 Our opening play was "Hamlet." The re- 
 hearsal was called for 10 o'clock. Mr. Ford's 
 stock company completed the cast. All were per-
 
 116 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 feet in the words, familiar with the business of the 
 play, and only one rehearsal was necessary. 
 
 Henry Flohr, Mr. Booth's personal attendant, 
 rehearsed the company, but Mr. Booth himself 
 was generally present, as he was on this occasion. 
 
 Before the rehearsal began, I was presented to 
 Mr. Booth, and I distinctly recall his appearance. 
 He was of medium height, spare of figure and had 
 an oval face, rather longer than ordinary, with a 
 prominent nose and a sensitive and expressive 
 mouth. His eyes seemed large and eloquent, and 
 his face appeared quite pale; more so, perhaps, 
 from contrast with his dark hair that hung in clus- 
 ters, quite over his ears. He wore, as I remem- 
 ber, a light overcoat, which he held together at his 
 waist with his hands, over a dark suit; and a soft 
 felt hat. 
 
 His greeting was gracious and kindly, inspiring 
 me at once with confidence and placing me at ease 
 amidst my new surroundings. 
 
 Our rehearsal proceeded smoothly and without 
 incident. The company was a thoroughly compe- 
 tent one, and the few suggestions made by Mr. 
 Booth were given with gentle courtesy, and re- 
 ceived and followed with well trained and respect- 
 ful consideration. 
 
 I had played Laertes with many stars, both in 
 this country and in England; so I was quite famil- 
 iar with the usual business of the part, and as our 
 only contact in the play was in the struggle by the 
 grave of Ophelia, in the churchyard, and the con-
 
 Frederick Warde in 1876 as the Young Englishman in 
 "Fifth Avenue"
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 119 
 
 How modestly he received the applause of the 
 audience. How generously he insisted on his com- 
 rades sharing it with him. The audience re- 
 mained in their places at the conclusion of the 
 play; all of the actors in the last scene had bowed 
 their acknowledgments, but Mr. Booth was recalled 
 again and again, and each time insisted on my ac- 
 companying him before the curtain. 
 
 It was an occasion to remember, an event to be 
 recorded, an inspiration to be followed and a mem- 
 ory to be cherished. 
 
 It is more than forty-three years ago now, but it 
 is as vividly impressed upon my memory as 
 though the incidents I have related occurred but 
 yesterday. 
 
 The following morning we rehearsed "Othello," 
 with Mr. Booth as lago, myself as Othello. I was 
 dead letter perfect in the part, but the responsibil- 
 ity of acting such a great character made me 
 dreadfully nervous. 
 
 It is usual for the star to tell his supporting 
 actors the positions he desires them to take, the 
 crosses to make, the tempo and inflections of their 
 lines and the business he wishes them to do. I 
 was anxious to receive these directions, but Mr. 
 Booth gave none. At last I asked, "Have you not 
 instructions to give me, sir?" He replied, "No. 
 You seem quite familiar with the play." 
 
 We progressed as far as the great scene between 
 the Moor and lago in the third act, which is prac- 
 tically a dialogue, and still no instructions. I was 
 feeling quite uncomfortable. Finally I asked,
 
 120 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 "Are my positions satisfactory to you, Mr. 
 Booth?" "Don't be nervous, my boy," he an- 
 swered. "I'll find you, wherever you are." 
 
 Night came. lago and Roderigo began the play 
 in a scene before the house of Brabantio. lago 
 retires and re-enters with Othello in the following 
 scene, a street in Venice. I was standing in the 
 first entrance waiting for the change of scene, and 
 although it was a cold winter night, I was bathed 
 in perspiration. Mr. Booth came off the stage and 
 noticing my condition, placed his hand on my 
 shoulder saying, "Courage, my boy, you are going 
 to play the part splendidly." 
 
 Throughout the play Mr. Booth acted as if I 
 were the star, and he was supporting me. He 
 adapted himself to my movements and action with 
 the greatest consideration, and at the conclusion 
 of the performance said I had fully justified his 
 good opinion. 
 
 The following night our parts were reversed. 
 Mr. Booth was Othello, and I played lago. It was 
 an ambitious undertaking for a young man to al- 
 ternate such great parts with so great an actor, but 
 Mr. Booth's considerable kindness was both an 
 aid and an inspiration, and the success I was for- 
 tunate enough to make was entirely due to the 
 generous encouragement of that splendid Amer- 
 ican gentleman. 
 
 Mr. Booth's lago was a truly great perform- 
 ance, fascinating in its intellectual villainy, sinu- 
 ous and graceful in movement and intense in its 
 malignity.
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 121 
 
 Mr. Booth was not suited to the character of 
 Othello, either by physique or temperament. He 
 lacked the virility of John McCullough and the 
 ferocity of Salvini. 
 
 He played the part with the grace of an accom- 
 plished actor within his physical limitations, skill- 
 fully substituting pathos for passion. The same 
 conditions prevailed in his King Lear. His lack 
 of strength could not reach the heights of Lear's 
 passion in the earlier acts, but in the later scenes 
 the suffering of the poor distracted King was 
 pathetic in the extreme. His delivery of the lines, 
 "I am a man more sinned against than sinning" 
 brought tears to my eyes, and his recognition of 
 his daughter Cordelia, as reason partially returns 
 to his disordered mind, was one of the most beau- 
 tifully tender scenes I have ever witnessed,
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Tour of the South with Edwin Booth. 
 
 Shakespeare's historical play of "Richard the 
 Second" is seldom seen on the stage. Its revival 
 by Mr. Booth was an interesting novelty; and his 
 performance of the weak and unfortunate King 
 beautiful and effective. It was a picture of a man 
 of imaginative temperament and high ideals that 
 are rudely shattered by the stormy and contend- 
 ing elements by which he is surrounded; his weak- 
 ness and incapacity finally resulting in the loss of 
 his crown and his life. 
 
 The character of Richard is brought into strik- 
 ing contrast with that of Bolingbroke, which I 
 played and modelled my make-up and perform- 
 ance after Mr. George Rignold in "Henry the 
 Fifth," giving it a vigor and force of character 
 that I found very effective. 
 
 I always thought Cardinal Richelieu to be one 
 of Mr. Booth's most successful performances. In 
 make-up he seemed to have stepped out of one of 
 the pictures of that eminent ecclesiastic in the 
 Louvre. In manner he was the French exquisite, 
 dainty and delicate as a woman, in action stern 
 and relentless. The subtlety and craft of the 
 
 122
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 123 
 
 Statesman outwitting his enemies was superb, 
 while the light touches of humor were given with 
 an ingenuous charm that gave variety and relief 
 to the gravity of the situations. 
 
 The Semitic cast of Mr. Booth's features gave a 
 very natural and appropriate character to his ap- 
 pearance as Shylock in "The Merchant of Ven- 
 ice." His rendition of the part differed materi- 
 ally from that of Sir Henry Irving and, to my 
 mind, was a more consistent performance. 
 
 Mr. Booth did not seek for any new meanings 
 of the words of the text, and in few instances used 
 any new business. He accepted the traditions that 
 three centuries of great actors had established, 
 differing only in minor details influenced by his 
 own temperament and personality. 
 
 "The Apostate" is a very old tragedy of the 
 vintage that our great grandfathers enjoyed. It 
 is written in the exaggerated blank verse of the be- 
 ginning of the last century, and was a very popu- 
 lar play at the time. Today it would excite ridi- 
 cule. Its revival by Mr. Booth commanded re- 
 spect from his wonderfully intense performance 
 of the villain of the play, Pescara, a part similar 
 to lago, but much more malignant and treacher- 
 ous. I had never seen the play before, nor have 
 I heard of its performance since. 
 
 Mr. Booth also played Benedict in "Much Ado 
 About Nothing," Petruchio in "Katherine and 
 Petruchio" and Claude Melnotte in "The Lady of 
 Lyons," during his engagement. 
 
 It was a remarkable repertoire of plays, and a
 
 124 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 wide range of characters to give in two weeks, but 
 Mr. Booth's versatility was remarkable. It 
 seemed- to me that with Edwin Booth acting was 
 not only an accomplishment but an instinct. With 
 the greatest ease he would step, as it were, from 
 the relentless malignity of Shylock to the rollick- 
 ing Petruchio in the same evening; from the lover 
 Claude Melnotte in the afternoon to the "heart- 
 strook' ' King Lear at night. 
 
 After two great weeks in Baltimore we started 
 on our southern tour. Our first stop was at Rich- 
 mond, Va., where we played an entire week in the 
 historic old Richmond Theatre. It was on the 
 stage of this theatre that Edwin Booth's father, 
 Junius Brutus Booth, when playing "Richard the 
 Third," had refused to be conquered by the Earl 
 of Richmond and ferociously continuing the com- 
 bat had driven the actor playing the part off the 
 stage, through the stage door into and across the 
 street to a livery stable. There he was only sub- 
 dued by the combined efforts of several men, who, 
 after a terrific struggle, finally disarmed him, and 
 restored him to reason. 
 
 From Richmond, we continued south, visiting 
 Charlotte, N. C.; Columbia, S. C.; Charleston, Sa- 
 vannah, Augusta, Atlanta, Macon, Montgomery, 
 Mobile, Columbus, Chattanooga and Nashville, 
 closing our tour at Bowling Green, Ky. 
 
 After Richmond, we traveled by a special train, 
 not the train de luxe of the present day, simply a 
 passenger coach and a baggage car attached to a 
 wood-burning locomotive. The roadbeds were
 
 Marie Wainwright
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 125 
 
 soft, the rails of iron, so our progress was neces- 
 sarily slow, and at intervals we stopped at wood 
 piles and all the gentlemen of the company would 
 alight and assist the trainmen to throw the wood 
 on the tender. 
 
 Mr. Booth smoked a pipe, a corn cob, and car- 
 ried his tobacco, etc., in a small satchel suspended 
 from his shoulder like the case of a field glass. I 
 also smoked a pipe, an English briar. Mr. Booth 
 and I would go into the baggage car, sit on a trunk 
 before the open side door, and smoke and chat. 
 It was my first trip in the South, and Mr. Booth 
 would point out to me the growing tobacco, the 
 cotton fields, the cane brakes, and explain to me 
 the conditions of southern life. 
 
 At other times, as we grew more intimate, he 
 would tell me of his own early life and experiences, 
 of his first visit to England. He gave me much 
 information not only of interest but of value and 
 service. 
 
 In the meantime Mrs. Booth and Mrs. Warde 
 would sit together in the passenger coach and dis- 
 cuss children. Mrs. Booth (Mary McVicker) was 
 Mr. Booth's second wife. His first wife (Mary 
 Devlin) had died, leaving a daughter, Edwina. 
 Edwina suffered from an ophthalmic affection that 
 prevented her from reading or studying, and her 
 stepmother was educating her orally, and as Mrs. 
 Warde was the mother of three children, they 
 found a mutually agreeable subject of conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 Mr. Booth was a great favorite throughout the
 
 126 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 southern country, and many people would congre- 
 gate at the stations at which our train stopped to 
 see that distinguished gentleman, but Mr. Booth, 
 who was extremely modest, would remain in the 
 car. The company, however, would get out for 
 a little exercise. 
 
 We had with us a little old man, an actor in the 
 company, whom we called "Billy" Bokee. He 
 was a great admirer of the late Edwin Forrest, 
 and endeavored to imitate the appearance and 
 manner of that great and robust tragedian. He 
 had a mustache and a tuft under his lower lip, and 
 wore a black Talma cloak over his shoulders. He 
 took his exercise with a tragic air and a dignified 
 walk that no amount of ridicule could influence. 
 The company took great delight on these occasions 
 to address him as Mr. Booth, and attract the at- 
 tention of the spectators to him. The little man 
 enjoyed this distinction, and he saved Mr. Booth 
 from the embarrassment he would have felt un- 
 der the circumstances. 
 
 We carried no scenery with us, but depended on 
 the equipment of the theatres where we played. 
 In consequence we were guilty of many anachron- 
 isms. Hamlet interviewed the spirit of his dead 
 father in a dense wood, and Shylock bargained 
 the terms of his bond with a background of a mod- 
 ern American street with local advertisements 
 painted on it. 
 
 These trifles, however, were lost sight of in the 
 strength and excellence of the acting. 
 
 I remember one instance in particular. In the
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 127 
 
 play of Othello, the first scene should represent a 
 street in Venice, with the mansion of Brabantio on 
 one side, from which the gentleman is aroused by 
 lago, and who appears at a window to demand the 
 reason of his disturbance. 
 
 In the theatre to which I refer the stock of 
 scenery was very limited. The nearest approach to 
 a mansion was a small square set-piece about eight 
 feet high and twelve feet long, painted to repre- 
 sent a rustic cottage with a door and window, the 
 chimney appearing above a roof thatched with 
 straw. 
 
 The stage manager selected this for the purpose, 
 and its impropriety would not have been noticed 
 had not Brabantio from behind the scenes, mis- 
 taking the line of the roof for the ledge of the win- 
 dow, popped his head out of the chimney and in 
 response to lago's alarm called out, "What is the 
 meaning of this terrible summons?" 
 
 Even this might have caused little comment, but 
 the gentleman who played Brabantio, Mr. M. Lan- 
 agan, of Ford's Grand Opera House company, was 
 over six feet in height and thin in proportion. He 
 had to stoop to enter from the door, and as he rose 
 to his full height the humor of the situation made 
 itself apparent, and the audience enjoyed a hearty 
 laugh at Brabantio 's expense. 
 
 In Charleston, S. C., we had another humorous 
 experience with another Brabantio. The gentleman 
 was a substitute for Mr. Lanagan, who was ill. 
 Some friends in that hospitable city had enter- 
 tained him so generously that at the evening per-
 
 128 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 formance his speech was somewhat thick and un- 
 certainvery suggestive of conviviality. But he 
 managed to get through his part until he struck 
 the word "preposterously," in the Senate scene, 
 and that proved too much for him. He hic- 
 coughed at the consonants and struggled with the 
 syllables for some time but finally gave it up, sat 
 down and fell asleep. 
 
 I have played in Othello many, many times since, 
 but never without recalling the incident of the un- 
 fortunate actor who was wrecked at Charleston, 
 S. C., on the rock "Preposterously." 
 
 At Columbia, S. C., the theatre was located in 
 the Municipal Building, over the City Hall. There 
 was no grave trap in the platform that served for 
 the stage, nor were we permitted to cut the floor 
 to make one. We played "Hamlet" and in the 
 churchyard scene, where Ophelia was to be Imried, 
 the stage manager placed a set rock on the side 
 next to one of the wings, behind which the grave 
 digger went down on his knees to indicate an ex- 
 cavation, and he shoveled the earth from that po- 
 sition. When it came to the burial of Ophelia, we 
 pushed the body behind the rock instead of lower- 
 ing it into a glave, slightly paraphrasing the lines 
 to make them consistent with that method of dis- 
 posing of the poor lady's body. 
 
 It was a great tribute to Mr. Booth and a credit 
 to the audience that these incongruous conditions 
 failed to cause any diversion from the serious in- 
 terest of the play. 
 
 In the play of "Hamlet," it is necessary to use
 
 H. J. Montague
 
 FIFTY YEAES OF MAKE-BELIEVE 129 
 
 two human skulls in the graveyard scene. One is 
 merely thrown out of the grave with the soil and a 
 substitute serves the purpose, but Hamlet has to 
 take the other in his hand and apostrophise it as 
 Yorick's skull, and it should be real. The com- 
 pany did not cany one as there was a superstition 
 against having a human relic in the baggage, but 
 we were usually able to borrow one from a local 
 physician. 
 
 In one town we were unable to do this, so the 
 property man procured a very large turnip, carved 
 it into the shape of a human skull, covered it with 
 earth and some paint until it really looked remark- 
 ably like the real thing, and placed it in the grave. 
 The gravedigger threw it out with the soil, and at 
 the proper cue handed it to Mr. Booth as Hamlet. 
 The natural moisture of the vegetable, and the 
 paint made it very slippery, Mr. Booth failed to 
 grasp and it fell with a heavy thud on the stage, 
 quite inconsistent with the weight of a hollow 
 skull. 
 
 It then rolled rapidly down to the footlights and 
 knocked off the tip of one of the gas jets. The 
 gas flamed up, some one in the audience yelled 
 "fire," and a panic was only averted by the 
 prompt action of the leader of the orchestra, who 
 extinguished the flame with his handkerchief. 
 
 Horatio recovered the turnip and returned it to 
 Mr. Booth, but his tender apostrophe to the mem- 
 ory of his early playmate, Yorick, lost much of 
 its pathos by the unfortunate revelation of the 
 very substantial formation of the poor dead jest-
 
 130 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 er's skull that was supposed to have "lain in the 
 earth for three and twenty years." 
 
 We played an entire week at the old Masonic 
 Theatre in Nashville, Tenn. Mr. Booth dressed in 
 a small triangular room at the side of the prosce- 
 nium. A cigar box with his tobacco and some 
 pipe-lights ready at hand were always on his dress- 
 ing table. 
 
 We were playing "Richelieu." I had occasion 
 to go to his room between the acts, and the picture 
 I saw is fresh in my memory. Mr. Booth was sit- 
 ting before the mirror, made up and dressed in the 
 full crimson robes of the great cardinal, the biretta 
 on his head, the jeweled cross on his breast, smok- 
 ing a corncob pipe. The incongruity of the situ- 
 ation struck me forcibly and we both laughed 
 heartily as we recognized the humor of this infor- 
 mal meeting of the chevalier and the cardinal be- 
 hind the scenes. 
 
 In spite of his usual melancholy manner, Mr. 
 Booth had a keen sense of humor, and not infre- 
 quently would make sotto-voce remarks to me even 
 in the most tragic scenes. 
 
 We were in Mobile, Ala., and had been some- 
 what troubled by mosquitoes. The play was 
 "King Lear." Mr. Booth as the demented old 
 King was sitting on a log. I, as the assumed mad- 
 man Edgar, was lying at his feet. Lear, taking 
 Edgar to be a learned philosopher, asks him: 
 "What is your occupation?" to which Edgar, hu- 
 moring the old king, answers: "How to prevent 
 the fiend and to kill vermin." To my intense as-
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 131 
 
 tonishment, Mr. Booth, without a change in the 
 vacant eye, or a muscle of the pain-drawn reverend 
 face, asked: "Skeeters and sich?" 
 
 It was another demonstration of my theory of 
 acting, that, however tragic the part or intense the 
 emotion, the actor must always be master of him- 
 self. 
 
 Mr. Booth's health was not good, so we did not 
 play every night, and I had considerable leisure. 
 I took advantage of this to see the country, and 
 frequently rode out several miles on horseback, 
 visiting the old southern homes, cotton plantations 
 and points of historic interest, invariably meeting 
 with the greatest courtesy and on more than one 
 occasion enjoying the splendid hospitality for 
 which that section of the country is proverbial. 
 
 Savannah is noted for its old historic theatre, 
 one of the oldest in the country, and its beautiful 
 system of squares and monuments. I narrowly 
 escaped getting into trouble there. I was riding 
 on horseback about the city, and took the car 
 track through the center of a square instead of go- 
 ing around by the roadway, when I was stopped 
 by a policeman and escorted to the police station. 
 I pleaded ignorance of the traffic regulations, made 
 myself known and was released from custody, but 
 courteously told not to do it again. 
 
 In several of the cities I found evidence of the 
 late Civil War conflict, notably in the old city of 
 Charleston, S. C., where on the beautiful esplanade 
 I saw many of the old family mansions battered 
 and disfigured by the bombardments, a sad re-
 
 132 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 minder of the horrors of war. They have since 
 been restored, and few more interesting and at- 
 tractive spots can be found today than the es- 
 planade at Charleston. 
 
 So our southern tour continued with ovations to 
 Mr. Booth and cordial greetings fo the company 
 everywhere until we reached Bowling Green, Ky., 
 where we were met by Mr. Barney Macauley, man- 
 ager of the Louisville Theatre, who took Mr. 
 Booth from us for a visit to the Mammoth Cave 
 of Kentucky and then to Louisville, where he was 
 supported by the resident dramatic company. 
 
 I accompanied Mr. Ford and the company to 
 Baltimore, stopping at Cumberland, Md., to open 
 a new opera house. We played " Jane Eyre" and 
 tWo modern comedies for our three night engage- 
 ment. I was requested to make the inaugural ad- 
 dress. It was the first public speech I ever made, 
 and I distinctly remember my suffering in antici- 
 pation of that dread ordeal, but we have in the 
 dramatic profession a comforting philosophy that 
 "Twelve o'clock must come," and the opening 
 ceremonies of the new theatre passed off success- 
 fully. 
 
 I left the company at Baltimore and after a brief 
 vacation went to Chicago to play a week at Mc- 
 Vicker's Theatre, and then resume my support of 
 Mr. Booth on a tour of the northern cities under 
 Mr. McVicker's management. 
 
 Chicago was a very different city in 1876 than it 
 is today, but vibrant with life, animation and en- 
 terprise. Vacant lots filled with scattered debris
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 133 
 
 I 
 
 of the recent fire disfigured the blocks on the 
 streets where now magnificent business and office 
 buildings crowd each other in stately array. 
 Wooden sidewalks of varying levels necessitated 
 care by the pedestrian, even in daylight, and 
 wooden sheds served as terminals for the rail- 
 roads. 
 
 It was my first visit to the Middle West, and I 
 was greatly impressed with the vital energy of its 
 people. 
 
 From the windows of my room at the old Sher- 
 man House I watched the powerful machinery 
 driving long piles soaked in creosote in the ground 
 to make a secure foundation for the great Munici- 
 pal Building to be erected there. A building that 
 was subsequently found inadequate, and a still 
 greater one has taken its place. 
 
 I opened at McVicker's Theatre in Buckstone's 
 comedy, "Leap Year" for three nights, followed 
 by the old drama, "All That Glitters Is Not Gold," 
 for the remainder of the week. The cast included 
 Mr. Thomas Whiffin, the comedian, and Miss Ellen 
 Cummins, and the resident stock company. 
 
 The following Monday Mr. Booth began a two 
 weeks' engagement in the same repertoire we had 
 played on our southern tour. Mr. J. H. Mc- 
 Vicker, who was Mr. Booth's father-in-law, played 
 the comedy parts with traditional business and a 
 sententious humor that was delightful. I think 
 his grave-digger in "Hamlet," and Dogberry in 
 "Much Ado About Nothing" the best I ever saw. 
 Mr. Leslie Gossin, Miss Ellen Cummins and the
 
 134 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 stock company of McVicker's Theatre completed 
 the casts. 
 
 After Chicago, we played Detroit, then crossed 
 the river to Canada, playing London, Hamilton, 
 Toronto and St. Catherines. I was pleased to find 
 that Mr. Booth was received in Canada with the 
 same enthusiasm as in the United States. This 
 was the more gratifying from the fact that he had 
 expressed some anxiety as to his reception there. 
 He had told me his visit to England in his younger 
 days had not been as successful as he could have 
 wished, and he was greatly pleased with his re- 
 ception in Canada. 
 
 It has been said that art has no nationality, it 
 is universal. In the case of Edwin Booth this was 
 certainly true. Such ripened and perfected art 
 as his belongs not to a nation but to the world. 
 
 We left Canada by the Suspension Bridge and 
 finished our tour with a week's engagement at 
 Meech's Academy of Music in Buffalo, N. Y. 
 
 During our week in Buffalo I was presented to 
 and met on several occasions Grover Cleveland, 
 then the Sheriff of Erie county. He was a great 
 admirer of Mr. Booth and much interested in the 
 drama. Our meetings were usually after the per- 
 formance when, under the social influence of a 
 cigar and modest liquid refreshment, we would 
 discuss the actors and the stage of the two coun- 
 tries. At those little democratic meetings I little 
 thought, and I doubt if he did either, that I should 
 one day greet him in Albany as the Governor of 
 New York State and later in Washington as the
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 135 
 
 President of the United States. I did so, how- 
 ever, and found in the Governor of the State and 
 the President of the nation the same genial demo- 
 cratic friend I had met as the Sheriff of Erie 
 County. 
 
 I have dwelt at some length on my association 
 with Edwin Booth. It approximated twenty-two 
 weeks in all, but they were so filled with interest 
 and pleasure that I have ever regarded them col- 
 lectively as one of the most enjoyable periods of 
 my professional life. The modesty of a truly great 
 man was the distinguishing feature of Edwin 
 Booth's personality, allied with a sweet and gentle 
 nature that won the esteem and affection of all 
 with whom he came in contact. 
 
 I did not play with Mr. Booth after the tour I 
 have described, but it is a privilege to record the 
 fact that I enjoyed his personal friendship and the 
 advantage of his advice and encouragement until 
 he passed away. 
 
 The Players' Club of New York stands as an en- 
 during monument to his memory, and his generos- 
 ity to the members of the profession he so con- 
 spicuously adorned. 
 
 Recently a bronze statue representing Mr. Booth 
 in the character of Hamlet standing on a granite 
 pedestal has been erected in Gramercy Park and 
 presented to the city of New York by the members 
 of the Players' Club as a loving tribute to the 
 memory of its founder.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 A Return to Booth's Theatre, New York. 
 
 In the meantime the revival of "Julius Caesar" 
 had been a great success in New York, and Messrs. 
 Jarrett and Palmer decided to send it on a tour of 
 the country with E. L. Davenport and Lawrence 
 Barrett as the stars. On my return from the tour 
 with Mr. Booth, I was engaged for the part of 
 Marc Antony and to be substarred. Mr. Bangs 
 was retained in New York to play Sardanapalus in 
 a big production of Byron's poetic play of that 
 name at Booth's Theatre. 
 
 This was another congenial engagement and I 
 considered myself very fortunate, for next to Mr. 
 Booth, Lawrence Barrett and E. L. Davenport 
 were the most distinguished tragedians in this 
 country. 
 
 We rehearsed "Julius Caesar" under the direc- 
 tion of Willie Seymour, then quite a young man, 
 but who has since become one of the most accom- 
 plished dramatic directors of the day. 
 
 Our cast was an excellent one, all of the gentle- 
 men being men of ability, fine physique and ripe 
 experience. I append the cast of the principals as 
 a matter of interest and record: 
 
 Marcus Brutus, Mr. E. L. Davenport; Caius Cas- 
 
 13C
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 137 
 
 sius, Mr. Lawrence Barrett; Marcus Antonius, Mr. 
 F. B. Warde; Julius Caesar, Mr. E. K. Collier; 
 Publius Casca, Mr. Harry Langdon; Trebonius, 
 Mr. J. P. Clarke; Portia, Miss E. V. Proudfoot; 
 Louis Barrett, a brother of Lawrence, played the 
 First Citizen. 
 
 We began our tour at Bay City, Mich., on Sep- 
 tember 25, 1876. Both Mr. Barrett and Mr. Daven- 
 port were exceedingly gracious, and generously in- 
 vited me to share the carriage provided for them 
 to and from the railroad stations. They also sug- 
 gested that we should endeavor to obtain three 
 bedrooms and a mutual sitting room at the hotels, 
 an arrangement that proved very agreeable when- 
 ever we were able to obtain the accommodations. 
 
 We carried quite an equipment of costumes, 
 arms and armors, but no scenery or properties, 
 with the exception of a number of long sections of 
 stove piping, which, painted to represent logs of 
 wood, were used to represent the funeral pyre in a ( 
 tableau which had been introduced to close the 
 play " The burning of the body of Brutus on the 
 plains of Phillipi." 
 
 Many of the towns we visited were small, and 
 the so-called opera houses were merely halls with 
 small stages, and a limited stock of scenery. Not 
 infrequently I delivered Marc Antony's address 
 over the body of Caesar on a dry goods box or a 
 packing case covered with a white cloth, my head 
 reaching to the sky borders, while a modern street 
 with local stores and advertisements, served for a 
 background.
 
 138 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 It was impossible to obtain supernumeraries in 
 these towns, so our armies were made up entirely 
 of officers and never strong in numbers, while our 
 Roman populace and Senators were represented 
 by members of the company who could double 
 them with their parts. 
 
 I have had as few as five violent citizens urging 
 Marc Antony to "read Caesar's will," and have 
 heard Brutus command his soldiers, "Stoop, Ro- 
 man, stoop, and bear the body hence," and have 
 seen two of his officers take the dead Cassius by the 
 head and heels and carry him off. 
 
 In spite of these conditions the play was re- 
 ceived with the most respectful attention, and the 
 splendid acting of both Mr. Barrett and Mr. 
 Davenport was appreciated with critical discern- 
 ment and applauded with enthusiasm. 
 
 Marc Antony is a very popular character and I 
 was fortunately very successful in my part in the 
 play. 
 
 We traveled west as far as the Mississippi 
 River. Many of the towns we visited have now 
 become large and prosperous cities with splendid 
 opera houses equipped with every modern, scien- 
 tific and mechanical device for the adequate pres- 
 entation of great dramatic productions. Even in 
 the days of which I am writing there was a fine 
 theatre Tootle's Opera House in St. Joseph, Mo., 
 and another, The Coates Opera House in Kansas 
 City, both built by enterprising merchants whose 
 foresight anticipated the growth of these now 
 large and important cities.
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 139 
 
 Mr. E. L. Davenport was a fine old actor. He 
 read the lines of Brutus with great distinction and 
 acted the part with great effectiveness and deep 
 feeling. 
 
 Lawrence Barrett was an ideal Cassius. He as- 
 sumed a hard, metallic voice and used a spasmodic 
 action that admirably suited the part, making a 
 strong contrast to the quiet contemplative reserve 
 of the gentle Brutus. 
 
 Mr. Barrett had risen to his prominence in the 
 dramatic profession from very humble circum- 
 stances, unaided, and acquired his knowledge and 
 culture in the face of many obstacles. 
 
 The tables in the dining room of the old Rus- 
 sell House in Detroit were quite long. Mr. Bar- 
 rett, Mr. Davenport and myself were dining to- 
 gether, Mr. Barrett sitting at the head of the 
 table, Mr. Davenport and myself on either side. 
 We were taking some wine with our dinner, I 
 think it was Mr. Barrett's birthday. At the other 
 end of the table, opposite to Mr. Barrett, sat an 
 elderly man, who, I noticed, looked at us from 
 time to time, with, as I thought, a sneering smile 
 upon his face. He finally finished his meal and 
 left the table. 
 
 After he had risen, Mr. Barrett called our atten- 
 tion to him and said: "I was an errand boy in 
 that man's dry goods store some years ago. He 
 caught me imitating him one day and discharged 
 me, saying my proper place was on the stage." 
 
 Mr. Barrett also told us he had been a bell boy 
 in one of the Detroit hotels, and had taken the ends
 
 140 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 of candles that the guests left in their candlesticks 
 and by their light read and studied books and 
 plays in his garret room and thus acquired an am- 
 bition to become an actor. 
 
 How he succeeded, those who remember him 
 well know, and the history and records of the 
 American stage will bear testimony to his honor- 
 able career. 
 
 Mr. Barrett was engaged in writing the life of 
 Charlotte Cushman during his leisure, and read us 
 the result of his work as he progressed. He was 
 not given to humor as a rule, but was not without 
 a ready wit. 
 
 There was usually a peephole in the curtains of 
 the theatres in which we played, through which 
 Mr. Barrett, as well as others, would survey the 
 audience before the play began. When the audi- 
 ence was large, Mr. Barrett would say with great 
 satisfaction, "There is a great deal of culture in 
 this town." This occurred quite frequently as 
 our business as a rule was very large; but on one 
 occasion, after a look through the curtain, he 
 turned away without remark. This omission 
 caused a wag in the company to take a peep and he 
 found a very small audience. Turning to Mr. 
 Barrett, he said with some sarcasm, "Quite a great 
 deal of culture here, sir," to which Mr. Barrett re- 
 plied, "Yes, agri-culture." 
 
 Barrett was very sensitive both of his personal 
 dignity and of his professional position. He re- 
 sented familiarity, and the terms "show," "show-
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 141 
 
 people" and "show folk" were especially offen- 
 sive to him. 
 
 We were leaving the hotel at Peoria, 111., one 
 morning, the old Peoria House near the river. 
 Mr. Barrett went to the desk and asked for his 
 bill. "What name?" inquired the clerk. "Law- 
 rence Barrett," was the reply with some hauteur. 
 "Oh, you're with the show: One dollar, please: 
 same rate to show folk all round." 
 
 The clerk meant no disrespect, but poor Bar- 
 rett's dignity received quite a shock. 
 
 Arriving one day at Lansing, Michigan, we 
 reached the hotel a few minutes only before the 
 time for closing the dining room after the dinner 
 hour. The tables already had been cleared and 
 prepared for the evening meal. Mr. Barrett, Mr. 
 Davenport, myself and practically the entire Julius 
 Caesar company came in and sat down, greatly to 
 the disgust of the waiters, who had imagined their 
 mid-day work completed. 
 
 Barrett ordered roast beef and potatoes for din- 
 ner. The waiter, an Irishman, brought him 
 corned beef and placed it before him. Barrett, 
 annoyed, handed the plate back to the waiter, pro- 
 testing, "I want roast beef." The waiter 
 promptly replaced the plate before him and in a 
 rich Irish brogue asserted with decisive empha- 
 sis: "It's roast beef ye want, but it's corned beef 
 ye '11 get." It was all he got and he had to make 
 his dinner of it. 
 
 During our tour an unfortunate difference arose 
 between Mr. Barrett and Mr. Davenport. It orig-
 
 142 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 inated in a trifling circumstance, but both being 
 very sensitive, it aroused much ill feeling between 
 them and they would not speak to each other. 
 Both gentlemen made a confidant of me. It was 
 a very painful position, but I used all the diplo- 
 macy I could and was fortunate enough to retain 
 their friendship; but I regret to say the breach 
 between them was never closed. 
 
 We visited no less than fifty-four towns before 
 returning to New York. The principals then went 
 to the Brooklyn Theatre with the complete scenic 
 production of "Julius Caesar," the subordinate 
 parts being played by members of Mr. A. M. 
 Palmer's company. 
 
 The part of Octavius Caesar was played by a 
 young actor of comparatively brief experience, 
 and that only in modern plays, Mr. Walden Ram- 
 sey. The Roman sandals provided for him were 
 somewhat complicated and he could not adjust 
 them to his feet. I was in my dressing room when 
 he appeared at my door in complete Roman armor, 
 helmet and all; a pair of eyeglasses on his nose, 
 feet bare and holding a sandal in each of his out- 
 stretched hands and helplessly asked: "How the 
 devil do you put the confounded things on, Mr. 
 Warde?" I solved the problem for him, but did 
 not succeed in removing his prejudice against the 
 footwear of the ancient Romans. 
 
 The week at the Brooklyn Theatre closed our 
 Julius Caesar tour. The following attraction 
 there was Miss Kate Claxton and Mr. A. M. 
 Palmer's company in "The Two Orphans." Dur-
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 143 
 
 ing the week the theatre burned down. Mr. 
 Claude Burroughs and Mr. Murdock of the com- 
 pany were lost in the fire and many of the audi- 
 ence perished in their efforts to escape from the 
 burning building, which was destroyed. 
 
 Our entire scenic equipment from "Julius 
 Caesar" had been left in the Brooklyn Theatre 
 and was lost in the fire. 
 
 Mr. Barrett, Mr. Davenport and myself returned 
 to Booth's Theatre for a production of "King 
 Lear" with Mr. Barrett as the old demented king. 
 The cast was a strong one, and the production ade- 
 quate, but Mr. Barrett was not suited either by 
 physique or temperament for King Lear. He 
 lacked dignity and grandeur in the earlier scenes, 
 his passion was petulance and his grief fretful 
 rather than pathetic. The supporting cast was: 
 
 Edgar, Mr. E. L. Davenport; Edmund, Mr. F. B. 
 Warde; Earl of Kent, Mr. W. E. Sheridan; Earl 
 of Gloster, Mr. H. A. Weaver; Albany, Mr. E. K. 
 Collier; The Fool, Mr. Willie Seymour; Cordelia, 
 Miss Stella Boniface; Coneril, Miss Gertrude Kel- 
 log, and Regan, Miss Dora Goldthwaite. 
 
 At the end of the first week, Mr. Davenport re- 
 tired from the cast and I took the part of Edgar, 
 and Mr. Collier that of Edmund. 
 
 Our next production at Booth's Theatre was of 
 an entirely different character. A domestic 
 drama of the Cromwellian period in England by 
 W. S. Gilbert called "Dan'l Druce, Blacksmith." 
 The story was similar to that of George Eliot's 
 "Silas Marner." It was a pretty little play and
 
 144 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 proved very successful. Mr. Lawrence Barrett 
 played the part of Dan'l Druce, I was Geoffrey 
 Winyard and the cast included W. E. Sheridan, 
 J. W. Jennings and Miss Minnie Palmer. Miss 
 Palmer was a very sweet and attractive little ac- 
 tress, who subsequently traveled the country in 
 a play called, "My Sweetheart," under the man- 
 agement of Mr. Rogers, to whom she was after- 
 wards married, and is now, I believe, living in re- 
 tirement. 
 
 At that time there were two popular leading 
 men in New York of contrasting type and tempera- 
 ment, Mr. Charles R. Thorne, Jr., of the Union 
 Square Theatre, and Mr. H. J. Montague of Wai- 
 lack's. The former was of robust physique, great 
 personal magnetism and virility; the latter deli- 
 cate, polished and refined. Both were deservedly 
 popular with the public. 
 
 George Fawcett Rowe wrote a play for these 
 two actors with characters in which they would 
 appear to equal advantage according to their per- 
 sonal characteristics. Thorne was to play a great 
 big hearted generous American, and Montague, a 
 well-bred chivalrous young English nobleman. 
 Unfortunately neither Thorne nor Montague could 
 obtain release from his engagements, so Messrs. 
 Jarrett and Palmer accepted the play for produc- 
 tion at Booth's Theatre. 
 
 The play was called "Fifth Avenue." George 
 Rignold was engaged to play the American, and I 
 was cast for the young Englishman. The selec- 
 tion of Mr. Rignold for the American was not a
 
 H. J. Montague and his New York Company in "Diplomacy" 
 playing in San Francisco
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 145 
 
 happy one, as his bearing-, manner and speech were 
 essentially British, and no acting on his part could 
 conceal the fact. The contrast was, therefore, 
 lost. The character though, was manly and 
 heroic and Rignold played it with fine effect. I 
 was equally successful in my part, but the honors 
 of the play were carried off by Johnny Wild and 
 George S. Knight, two gentlemen from the variety 
 stage, and Mr. Charles Parsloe, a comedian. 
 
 I quote from the New York Express of the fol- 
 lowing day which aptly described the circum- 
 stances: "The heroes of the hour, though, if long 
 continued and vociferous cheering be any crite- 
 rion, were John Wild, George S. Knight and 
 Charles Parsloe, who impersonated respectively a 
 negro, a German, and a street arab. The boys in 
 the gallery seemed to go wild in the frenzy of 
 seeing their old friends, and applause almost 
 shook the building." 
 
 Johnny Wild sang negro songs, George Knight 
 gave a wonderful acrobatic imitation of a German 
 emigrant seized with an epileptic fit, and Parsloe 
 contributed his share of the fun by a characteristic 
 sketch of a Bowery boy. 
 
 All three of these comedians have long since 
 passed away, But Wild will be remembered by 
 many old theater-goers for his negro characters, 
 George Knight for his German dialect plays, and 
 Charles Parsloe for his Chinaman in Bartley 
 Campbell's play, "My Partner," in association 
 with the late Louis Aldrich. 
 
 But to return to ' ' Fifth Avenue. ' ' George Rig-
 
 146 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 nold and I would stand in the entrance waiting to 
 go on, he with growing impatience, I with amuse- 
 ment, as the audience encored the work of the 
 comedians again and again until they were too ex- 
 hausted to do more and we were permitted to pro- 
 ceed with the play. 
 
 "Fifth Avenue" had an exceedingly good cast 
 which included a fine old actor, Mr. James H. Tay- 
 lor, Mr. Vining Bowers, the comedian, and Miss 
 Maud Granger, the leading lady. 
 
 After the run of "Fifth Avenue" at Booth's 
 Theatre, it was taken to Philadelphia with the 
 same cast. 
 
 That Philadelphia visit left me some very sad, 
 yet sweet and tender memories. During my ab- 
 sence from my New York home, my wife had re- 
 ceived a cable from England announcing the death 
 of my mother. She did not repeat or send the 
 message to me, but came to Philadelphia bringing 
 with her our little baby daughter, ten months old, 
 and only when I was holding the little girl in my 
 arms did she break the sad news to me with the 
 gentle sympathy that only a devoted wife and 
 mother could feel. 
 
 The grief for the dear one that had passed away 
 was softened by the realization of the new life 
 that claimed my care and love and the filial affec- 
 tion of a son that was now a tribute to the dead 
 must be replaced by the loving care of a father 
 to the living. 
 
 I had no understudy, so I was obliged to assume 
 my part as usual, and unfortunately had to refer to
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 147 
 
 "my mother" in several scenes, greatly to my dis- 
 tress; but no matter how heavy the actor's heart 
 may be, the play must go on and the grief he feels 
 must be hidden from the audience under the mask 
 of smiles and laughter. 
 
 How gentle and kind all of the company were to 
 me that night. They had learned of my loss, and 
 all expressed in manner more than in words their 
 tender sympathy. 
 
 Dear old comrades of the stage, you may have 
 many faults, but when it comes to human sympa- 
 thy, I know of no profession or calling where the 
 hand and heart are more ready to respond to the 
 call for help or to lighten the burden of sorrow!
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The Last Days of Booth's Theatre. 
 
 After our Philadelphia engagement, the com- 
 pany returned to New York, most of them being 
 retained to support John McCullough in a reper- 
 toire of heavy classic plays that included "Vir- 
 ginius," "Richelieu," "The Gladiator" and 
 "Metamora." 
 
 I played Icilius, De Mauprat, Phasarius, and the 
 young hero in Metamora, whose name I have for- 
 gotten. Maud Granger was the leading lady and 
 Mr. E. K. Collier played the heavy parts. 
 
 Mr. McCullough was much better suited both by 
 physique and temperament to the virile parts of 
 Virginius, Spartacus and Metamora than to the 
 part of the modern soldier in "Belle Lamar," in 
 which I had first met him. He had supported 
 Edwin Forrest for some years before starring him- 
 self and had adopted the sterling methods of that 
 robust and distinguished tragedian. 
 
 There was little subtlety in McCullough's acting 
 it was not in his nature, but in the impersona- 
 tion of the elemental conditions and passions of 
 the human heart he was admirable. His Vir- 
 ginius was a splendid presentation of the Roman 
 
 148
 
 Maurice Barrymore
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 149 
 
 patriot and father. The tender love of the earlier 
 scenes, the indignation at the outrage on his child, 
 the horror of the dreadful alternative in the 
 Forum and the bereaved and distracted father in 
 the later scenes were finely portrayed. 
 
 His Richelieu lacked the delicacy and finesse 
 of Mr. Booth's performance of the character, but 
 he was powerfully effective in the great curse 
 scene. 
 
 It was admirably summarized in the review in 
 the New York Herald: ' 'It suggests the lion rather 
 than the fox." 
 
 Spartacus in "The Gladiator" was an especially 
 strong performance of Mr. McCullough's, every 
 personal attribute of the actor, voice, physique, 
 manner and movement contributing to a realiza- 
 tion of the Thracian captive and subsequent cham- 
 pion of the arena. 
 
 Mine was an especially strong part in "The 
 Gladiator," Phasarius, brother to Spartacus. In 
 my last scene I had to deliver a long and vivid 
 description of the crucifixion of three thousand 
 gladiators. It was well written by Dr. Bird, the 
 author, and I was fortunate enough to grasp its 
 spirit, and give it with good effect. Mr. McCul- 
 lough was so pleased with my performance that he 
 offered me an engagement at the California Thea- 
 tre in San Francisco, of which he was then the 
 manager, but I was unable to accept it. 
 
 "Metamora" was an old-fashioned melodrama 
 with exaggerated language and situations, ' de- 
 pending largely on the personality of the leading
 
 150 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 character for its success. It had been a popular 
 part with the late Edwin Forrest, and his pupil 
 and successor, (McCullough, followed Mr. Forrest's 
 methods and conception of the Indian Chief whose 
 name gave the title to the play. 
 
 Mr. Collier and I found it somewhat difficult to 
 remember the Indian names in the play, having 
 had brief time to familiarize ourselves with them. 
 The leading lady's part, played by Maud Granger, 
 was Nahmeokee, but much to the amusement of 
 the lady and the indignation of Mr. McCullough, 
 we would insist on calling her Tapiokee. 
 
 The tenure of Booth's Theatre by Jarrett & 
 Palmer was drawing to a close and following the 
 McCullough engagement several of the officers of 
 the theatre took benefits; notably Commodore 
 Tooker, our popular acting manager. "The Lady 
 of Lyons" was the bill. Miss Rose Eytinge, a 
 splendid actress, played Pauline to the Claude 
 Melnotte of Mr. Edwin Adams for the occasion. 
 
 Edwin Adams had been a very popular actor 
 for some years, particularly in "Enoch Arden," 
 a dramatization of Tennyson's poem of that name. 
 He gave a romantic and magnetic performance of 
 Claude. He was quite ill at the time, and greatly 
 to the regret of his many admirers, died shortly 
 afterward. 
 
 Another benefit was given for our stage man- 
 ager, Leon J. Vincent, at which McCullough ap- 
 peared as Othello, and I as lago, with Maud 
 Granger as Desdemona and Madame Ppnisi as 
 Emelia.
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 151 
 
 In the part of Othello, McCullough was at his 
 best. I liked him better in the part than Salvini, 
 the great Italian actor. The latter gentleman may 
 have been more true to the character of a Moor 
 in his overmastering masculinity and tigerish 
 ferocity, but McCullough was more consistent to 
 the character as drawn by Shakespeare. The sim- 
 ple majesty of manhood in the earlier scene, the 
 deep sorrow of the thought of Desdemona's infi- 
 delity and the pathetic passion of the distracted 
 soul that killed and yet loved the object of its sac- 
 rifice seemed to me the realization of the poet's 
 conception. 
 
 Finally the night of my benefit came, May 30. 
 With a generosity that was a characteristic, John 
 McCullough volunteered his services. We gave 
 John Banim's old play "Damon and Pythias," 
 with McCullough as Damon and myself as Pythias. 
 Following the play Miss Maud Granger and I gave 
 the balcony scene from "Romeo and Juliet," con- 
 cluding with Douglas Jerrold's drama, "Black- 
 eyed Susan," in which I played William, the Brit- 
 ish sailor. 
 
 It was a long and varied bill that proved very 
 attractive. The house was crowded, and I quote 
 with some pride an extract from the New York 
 Herald of the following morning: "The dashing 
 young beneficiary must be a great favorite with 
 the ladies, for they mustered in grand force, and 
 their symathetic faces and spring bonnets made 
 the parterre glow like a garden." 
 
 reviewer did not record an embarrassing
 
 152 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 incident that occurred in "Black-eyed Susan." 
 My young son, aged six, was sitting in a box with 
 his mother. In one of the scenes I, in the char- 
 acter of William, had to take Susan in my arms, 
 and embrace her affectionately. Apparently re- 
 alizing the impropriety of this proceeding the, 
 young rascal exclaimed in his shrill, childish 
 treble, that was heard all over the house: "Oh, 
 mamma, look at papa and the lady." The boy 
 received a bigger round of applause for his speech 
 than had been given during the evening. 
 
 The lease and management of Booth's Theatre 
 terminated with my benefit performance. 
 
 Shortly afterward, on May 14, the theatre re- 
 opened for a brief spring season under the man- 
 agement of George Rignold, Tillotson and Brown. 
 I was engaged as stage manager. 
 
 We produced "Alone," a little three-act domes- 
 tic drama in which Mr. Rignold had been success- 
 ful in London, with "Black-eyed Susan" as an 
 after piece, in which Rignold played William and 
 danced an old-fashioned sailor's hornpipe, play- 
 ing his own accompaniment on the violin. 
 
 This accomplishment was quite a revelation to 
 theatre-goers, but Rignold 's experience had been 
 varied. In his youth he had traveled with his 
 father's company in the small towns of the Eng- 
 lish provinces and frequently had to act the lead- 
 ing parts in the plays, and between the acts, play 
 the violin in the orchestra, wearing a cloak to 
 conceal the costume of his part. 
 
 On May 17 the debut of a distinguished amateur
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 153 
 
 was announced in the character of Juliet, in 
 "Romeo and Juliet." She was a very beautiful 
 woman, the granddaughter of a bishop, the wife of 
 a wealthy New York gentleman, and sister to a 
 well-known naval officer. Her name was Mrs. 
 Harry Slaughter, but she appeared under her 
 maiden name, Miss Marie Wainwright. Rignold 
 rehearsed the part of Romeo with her, but at the 
 last moment declined to play it, and I was substi- 
 tuted; Mark Bates, the father of the present popu- 
 lar actress, Blanche Bates, being engaged for 
 Mercutio. 
 
 Miss Wainwright made an emphatic success as 
 Juliet, so Rignold decided to play Romeo the sec- 
 ond and succeeding performances and I was rele- 
 gated to Mercutio. 
 
 Miss Wainwright was a lady of culture and re- 
 finement and the following season played the 
 French Princess in " Henry the Fifth," and all of 
 the leading female parts with Rignold on his tour 
 of the country. Subsequently she was leading 
 lady at 'the Boston Theatre, and for several years 
 supported Lawrence Barrett in his repertoire of 
 classic plays. She then starred for several sea- 
 sons with Louis James, and more recently played 
 Truth in the symbolic play, " Every woman." 
 
 After Miss Wainwright 's engagement we pro- 
 duced "Amos Clark," and on May 30, George, 
 Rignold took a farewell benefit and gave one of 
 the most extraordinary and unique entertainments 
 it was ever my fortune to witness or to take 
 part in.
 
 154 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 The play was "Romeo and Juliet." Rignold 
 played Romeo. I was Mercutio, but the part of 
 Juliet was played by seven different ladies. Miss 
 Neilson was to have appeared in the balcony scene, 
 but excused herself at the last moment and, if I 
 remember rightly, Miss Lily Eldridge was substi- 
 tuted. The rest of the part was divided as fol- 
 lows: 
 
 The Nurse and Marriage scenes by Miss Ada 
 Dyas; the Potion scene, Miss Fanny Davenport; 
 the Banishment scene, Miss Maud Granger; the 
 Parting scene, Miss Marie Wainwright; the Mas- 
 querade scene, Miss Grace D'Urfrey; the Tomb 
 scene, Miss Minnie Cummings. 
 
 The first problem that presented itself was the 
 assignment of dressing rooms. Being the stage 
 manager, that task fell to me. Do you realize it? 
 Seven visiting, volunteer stars and only one star 
 dressing room! Yet they were all located satis- 
 factorily without friction or discontent. Where 
 was the alleged temperament of the star and the 
 leading lady? In those days it was almost an 
 unknown quantity. 
 
 Most of the names in the above cast were as fa- 
 miliar to New York theatre-goers as their own. 
 Years of faithful service had made them favorites 
 with the public and comrades in the profession. 
 They came to the theatre to play a part, to oblige 
 a comrade and please the public, and the color of 
 the wall paper or the style of the furniture of their 
 dressing-rooms did not affect their conception or 
 performance of their part.
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 155 
 
 As Mercutio, I met Juliet but once, in the Mas- 
 querade scene, so my task was easy, but Rignold 
 as Romeo had to meet one lady at the ball, greet 
 another on the balcony, marry a third in the 
 Priory, take leave of a fourth, and find still an- 
 other dead in the tomb of the Capulets. In the 
 meantime a sixth lady bewailed his banishment 
 and the seventh, driven to desperation, defied her 
 parents and swallowed a sleeping potion in the 
 hope of awaking and meeting him again. 
 
 The physique and complexion of the ladies dif- 
 fered. I did not learn how Rignold felt about it, 
 but it must have seemed strange to have wooed a 
 petite brunette on the balcony, married a mature 
 lady of dark complxion like Miss Ada Dyas, taken 
 leave of a lithe beautiful blonde like Miss Wain- 
 wright and find a buxom lady with chestnut curls 
 in the tomb of her family. 
 
 The occasion attracted an immense audience 
 and the several ladies and handsome beneficiary 
 were vigorously applauded, but I quote from a 
 review in the press the following morning: "It 
 was a fearful and wonderful performance." 
 
 The Rignold-Tillotson management closed 
 shortly after the above performance and I played 
 no more at Booth's Theatre. It was subsequently 
 leased by Mr. Stetson of Boston, several big pro- 
 ductions made, but in a few years the property 
 was sold, and the magnificent theatre that Edwin 
 Booth had built to perpetuate the most honored 
 name in the annals of the American stage, became 
 an office building and a dry goods store.
 
 156 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 The outer walls are still standing in their archi- 
 tectural beauty and dignity. Only a small bronze 
 tablet on the Twenty-third street facade reminds 
 old theatre goers of the splendid institution that 
 once flourished there, and of the indifference of 
 the people of New York to the efforts of that 
 worthy gentleman and great actor who had 
 founded it to provide a worthy home for the 
 drama in the metropolis of his country. 
 
 I had spent practically three years at the thea- 
 tre, established myself in the regard of New York 
 play-goers there, and been associated with the his- 
 toric dramatic events that had occurred on its 
 boards, and the ignominious termination of its 
 existence was a source of deep sorrow to me. 
 
 The following season I was engaged by Mr. J. C. 
 Duff, as leading man for the Broadway Theatre, 
 formerly known as Woods 's Theatre. Mr. James 
 Morrisey, quite a worthy rival of Commodore 
 Tooker as a publicity agent, was the acting man- 
 ager. 
 
 Our season was to open on August 22 with Mr. 
 and Mrs. McKee Rankin in a new play by Joaquin 
 Miller, entitled "The Danites." I was cast for 
 the part of a western gambler called "The Par- 
 son"; but I had never been in the extreme West, 
 where the scene was laid, nor had I ever seen the 
 type of character to be found in the mining camps 
 of that far country, so after the reading of the 
 play, I was relieved of the part and Louis Aldrich 
 engaged to play it. He was most successful, lay- 
 ing the foundation of fame and fortune which he
 
 John McCuUough as Othello
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 157 
 
 subsequently achieved in a similar character in a 
 play called "My Partner" by Hartley Campbell. 
 
 "The Danites" was quite a success and ran for 
 several weeks in New York and for several years 
 was the vehicle in which Mr. and Mrs. McKee* 
 Eankin toured the country with great success and 
 substantial financial results. 
 
 The regular season of the Broadway Theatre 
 opened on November 2 with a very strong dra- 
 matic company that included Miss Jeffreys Lewis 
 as the leading lady, Miss Ada Oilman as the sou- 
 brette, Mr. James Taylor, Mr. Charles Leclerq and 
 several other able and popular actors. 
 
 Our first star was Mme. Janauschek, a very fine 
 actress who spoke with a strong German accent. 
 She played "Lady Dedlock's Secret," an adapta- 
 tion from Dickens' novel, "Bleak House," in 
 which she played two parts of striking contrast, 
 Lady Dedlock, and Hortense, a French maid, with 
 great effect. Another play in which she appeared 
 was "Brunhilde," a dramatization of one of the 
 Nibelungen legends. Next to the Meg Merrilies 
 of Charlotte Cushman, it was one of the most 
 realistic performances I ever saw. 
 
 I played the part of Siegfried, a young warrior, 
 who would not respond to the amorous advances 
 of Brunhilde. In a very powerful scene with her, 
 my cap fell off, and remained on the scene at its 
 close. The stage manager instructed a super- 
 numerary to go on and remove it. The young 
 man, ambitious to be an actor, walked on, ex-; 
 pressed surprise when he saw the cap, took it up,
 
 158 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 and exclaimed: "Ah! The noble Siegfried's cap, 
 I will wear it," put it on his head and walked off, 
 much to the amusement of the audience and the 
 indignation of the stage manager, who promptly 
 suppressed the young man's aspirations.
 
 CHAPTER XIH. 
 
 First Visit to California. 
 
 On November 26, Mr. Duff made quite an elabo- 
 rate production of Shakespeare's "Anthony and 
 Cleopatra," with Miss Rose Eytinge as the Egyp- 
 tian Queen and myself as Antony. 
 
 Miss Eytinge was a very fine actress and a very 
 handsome woman. Her dark complexion and 
 physical charms gave her an ideal appearance for 
 the part of Cleopatra, and her splendid acting 
 fully realized the "Glorious serpent of the Nile" 
 that had captured the hearts of three of the great- 
 est warriors of the world. 
 
 During our run of "Antony and Cleopatra" Mr. 
 Augustin Daly gave his annual benefit for the 
 Catholic Orphan Asylum at the Academy of Music. 
 Most of the actors in New York, including Miss 
 Eytinge and myself, volunteered their services. 
 Miss Eytinge was to give a recitation and I was 
 to deliver Marc Antony's address over the body 
 of Caesar. The bill was a long one, and we were 
 to appear late in the evening. 
 
 My costume for Marc Antony's address being 
 the same that I had worn at the Broadway Theatre 
 I went to the Academy in a carriage fully dressed 
 as the Roman orator, my dresser accompanying 
 
 159
 
 160 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 me and carrying my modern clothes in a suit case. 
 
 I concluded the performance and proceeded to 
 change my Roman costume to modern dress, when 
 I discovered to my horror that my dresser had 
 failed to put my trousers in the suit case, and the 
 only garment I had to cover my nether limbs was 
 my underwear, or a pair of flesh colored tights. 
 
 It was now past midnight and my friends were 
 waiting for me to join them at a supper on the 
 stage. 
 
 My dresser took a carriage back to the Broad- 
 way Theatre, fourteen blocks away, and when he 
 got there the stage door was locked, and the night 
 watchman on his rounds. It was a long time be- 
 fore he returned to his post, and when he did so, 
 it took a still longer time to make him understand 
 the circumstances and admit my man; nearly two 
 hours passed before I was relieved from my em- 
 barrassing situation. In the meantime my friends 
 were enjoying themselves on the stage, with con- 
 siderable mirth at my expense while I sat alone in 
 my dressing room in a combination costume, the 
 upper part modern, the lower antique. 
 
 I reached my home at about 3 a.m. with feelings 
 that can be better imagined than described. 
 
 " Antony and Cleopatra" was followed by the 
 engagement of the great French romantic actor 
 Charles Fechter, who appeared in "Monte 
 Cristo," "No Thoroughfare," "Ruy Bias" and 
 "Hamlet." 
 
 In spite of Fechter 's advanced years and obese 
 figure, he was an actor of great charm, and in cer-
 
 Frederick Warde as Brutus in "Julius Caesar'
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 161 
 
 tain characters unapproachable. He had all the 
 delicate finesse of the French school, with a verve 
 and dash in romantic parts that was simply cap- 
 tivating. He was an excellent swordsman, an ac- 
 complishment that gave grace to his every move- 
 ment. He acted from the tips of his fingers to 
 his feet, and his business in all of his characters 
 was most elaborate. 
 
 In his hands the romance of Edmond Dantas, 
 the Count of Monte Cristo, became a convincing 
 reality. Obenreizer in "No Thoroughfare" lived, 
 and Ruy Bias was the unhappy youth that "hid 
 beneath a lackey's garb the passions of a king." 
 
 Fechter's Hamlet was French in conception and 
 portrayal. A man who yielded to intense grief, 
 that all his philosophical reflection could not 
 soothe. It seemed in his performance that instead 
 of "the native hue of resolution," being "sicklied 
 o'er with the pale cast of thought," it was 
 drowned in tears. 
 
 In the final scene of the play, he awoke to action, 
 his business of killing the king was most effective 
 and his death scene tenderly pathetic. 
 
 He wore a long blonde wig, and made up with a 
 slight mustache and beard, a striking contrast to 
 the raven locks and smooth face of Edwin Booth 
 in the same character. 
 
 This engagement was Fechter's last appearance 
 in New York. Even at that time he was a very 
 sick man and was only able to get through his 
 parts with the aid of stimulants. He died the fol- 
 lowing year. He was a great romantic actor, and
 
 162 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 brought to the American stage a consummate art 
 that left its impress, and served as a model of 
 delicacy and finesse to our young actors whose 
 methods were founded on broader lines, but with 
 lesser detail in dramatic impersonation. 
 
 Our next visitor was an English actor who had 
 spent some years and achieved quite a success in 
 Australia, Mr. Alfred Dampier. He was accom- 
 panied by his two young daughters. They ap- 
 peared in a humorous adaptation of a book that 
 had been very popular called "Helen's Babies." 
 The play was amusing but of little dramatic value. 
 
 Subsequently Mr. Dampier appeared in the dual 
 roles of Lesurges and Dubosc, in "The Lyons 
 Mail," a French melodrama that Henry Irving 
 had recently revived in London, but neither the 
 play or the actor made any great impression. 
 
 Possibly the most important production of Mr. 
 Duff's season was "The Exiles," a Russian melo- 
 drama that had made a great success in Paris and 
 London. Controversy in the courts as to Mr. 
 Duff's right to produce the play had given it a 
 splendid advertisement, the management had 
 taken every advantage of the opportunity for pub- 
 licity, and its advent was anticipated with great 
 interest. 
 
 George Fawcett Rowe had made our version of 
 the play; elaborate scenery had been prepared and 
 the long list of characters were represented by a 
 very strong cast that included: Milnes Levick, as 
 Schelm, Chief of Police; Alfred Dampier, as Count 
 Lanine; F. B. Warde, as Muller of Mullerhausen;
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 163 
 
 Robert Brower, as the Czar of Russia; Miss Jef- 
 freys Lewis, as the Countess Lanine; Miss Emily 
 Rigl, as her sister, in addition to Mr. Charles Le- 
 clerq, Mr. B. T. Ringold, W. J. Coggswell, Miss 
 Minnie Cummings, Miss Alice Grey and Ada Gil- 
 man. 
 
 "The Exiles" was a melodrama pure and sim- 
 ple, but it possessed the very necessary quality of 
 sympathetic human interest and in consequence 
 was a substantial success. 
 
 I note that I have failed to record above some 
 very important characters in the play two rein- 
 deer and six dogs, that were used to draw the sleds 
 in one of the snow scenes. 
 
 The dogs acted very well, but I can't say as 
 much for the reindeer; in fact, one of them nearly 
 brought the play to an abrupt conclusion, and al- 
 most stampeded the audience on the first sight. 
 
 Instead of following the trail of the dogs, the 
 animal, frightened by the glare of the footlights, 
 broke from his harness and leaped clear over the 
 head of the leader of the orchestra into the center 
 aisle of the theatre, and started for the doors. 
 
 Fortunately some of his harness remained on 
 him and he was captured before any great harm 
 had been done, other than to scare the members 
 of the orchestra almost out of their wits and give 
 the audience a sensation not anticipated by the 
 management. Later the same reindeer became 
 more tractable and really acted with reassuring 
 docility. 
 
 "The Exiles" ran successfully for several
 
 164 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 weeks, and closed our dramatic season at the 
 Broadway, after which we took the play to St. 
 Louis and Chicago, where it repeated its New 
 York success. 
 
 On my return to the city, I was offered the part 
 of Henry Beauclerc in "Diplomacy," by T. Henry 
 French and H. J. Montague, who were to take the 
 play to the California Theatre, San Francisco, for 
 a four weeks' engagement, and to play in Chicago 
 on our return trip. Eagerly I accepted the propo- 
 sition. 
 
 "Diplomacy" was an English adaptation of a 
 French play by Sardou called "Dora." It had 
 been a great success in Paris, in London and in 
 New York, where it had a long run at Wallack's 
 Theatre, Lester Wallack playing the part for 
 which I was now engaged. 
 
 The company with whom I was to be associated 
 was a delightful one and included Miss Jeffreys 
 Lewis, Miss Maud Granger, Mr. H. J. Montague, 
 Mr. John Carroll and Mr. J. W. Shannon, all ex- 
 perienced actors and old friends. 
 
 We went directly from New York to San Fran- 
 cisco, then a journey of seven days. 
 
 What a charming trip it was across the great 
 continent of America. I had never been west of 
 the Missouri River and everything was new and 
 of the greatest interest to me. There were no 
 dining cars. We stopped at meal stations which 
 relieved the monotony of travel and in the interim 
 studied and rehearsed our parts. 
 
 After we reached Omaha, a new world seemed
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 165 
 
 to open before me the broad prairies of Nebraska 
 gradually rising till we reached the crest of the 
 Rockies, then the descent on the western slope 
 through Echo and Ogden canyons to the Great 
 Salt Lake, across the great American Desert to 
 the Sierra Nevadas up again and across those 
 majestic mountains until we descended into the 
 Sacramento Valley with its flowers and fruit to 
 the great western metropolis on the shores of the 
 Pacific Ocean. 
 
 I saw the American Indian in their almost prim- 
 itive condition, squatting in the shade of the 
 freight sheds, their tepees clustered in the distance 
 or riding on the steps of the cars, as they were 
 then permitted to do. The buffalo had practically 
 disappeared, but in Nebraska we saw several herds 
 of antelope in the near-by hills, and in the evening 
 it was not unusual to see wolves and coyotes slink- 
 ing away in the gloaming. 
 
 It was a wonderful journey that would take a 
 far abler pen than mine to describe and a volume 
 to encompass. 
 
 At Sacramento the train as met by representa- 
 tives of the press who took the names, the business 
 and places of residence of the overland passengers 
 and wired them to the San Francisco papers. 
 
 In our case we were met there by Mr. Barton 
 Hill, and some friends, who loaded us with flowers 
 and fruits, and gave us the first suggestion of the 
 greeting and welcome we were to receive on our 
 arrival at our destination. 
 
 Then came the final stage of our journey. The
 
 166 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 trip from Oakland on those wonderful ferry boats. 
 The great bay of San Francisco and our first' 
 glimpse of the city. The glorious welcome, which 
 surpassed anything I have ever experienced in its 
 warmth and cordiality, and then the splendid 
 Palace Hotel, so worthy of its name. It was all 
 so wonderful it seemed more like a dream from 
 the Arabian Nights than an actual reality. 
 
 We opened at the grand old California Theatre 
 on Bush street to an audience that tested its capac- 
 ity. The full cast of the play was as follows: 
 
 Julian Beauclerc, Mr. H. J. Montague; Henry 
 Beauclerc, Mr. F. B. Warde; Count Orloff, Mr. 
 John Carroll; Baron Stein, Mr. J. W. Shan- 
 non; Algie Fairfax, Mr. Nick Long; Mark- 
 ham, Mr. John Wilson; Dora, Miss Maud 
 Granger; Countess Zicka, Miss Jeffreys Lewis; 
 Marquise de Rio Zares, Miss Emily Mestayer; 
 Lady Henry Fairfax, Miss Hattie Roch; Mion, 
 Miss Jennie Arnot. 
 
 "Diplomacy" was an instantaneous success and 
 played to splendid business for nearly four weeks. 
 We were all very happy, receiving compliments 
 and courtesies on all sides. 
 
 The critics gave us lavish praise, notably Peter 
 Robinson of the Chronicle, George Barnes of the 
 Call, and George Dinsmore of the Bulletin, who 
 claimed "Diplomacy" to be "a perfect play of 
 its kind" and of the acting, he said, "It was fine 
 art all through." 
 
 Tony Pastor's variety company from New York 
 was playing at the Bush street Theatre at the same
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 167 
 
 time and on Wednesday afternoons Mr. Montague, 
 myself and sometimes the ladies would occupy a 
 box and enjoy the splendid entertainment pro- 
 vided by the Kernell brothers, Johnny Wild, Prim- 
 rose and West, the Fontainbleu sisters, Kitty 
 O'Neil, Frank Girard, the Irvin sisters and that 
 fine coterie of fun makers Mr. Pastor used to take 
 across the continent every summer. I think they 
 enjoyed our presence there as much as we appre- 
 ciated their clean and wholesome comedy. 
 
 Of course Mr. Montague, Shannon Carroll and 
 myself enjoyed the hospitality of the world famous 
 Bohemian Club, of which I am proud to be a life 
 member. What a splendid set of whole-souled 
 clever men they were. How generous they were 
 to ability, how keen to pierce the bubble of pre- 
 tense. Their club rooms were over a fish market 
 then now they have a palace on the hill, but the 
 same spirit of good fellowship is there. Worth 
 and Wit are welcome, but wealth is no claim to 
 recognition. 
 
 In the beginning of the fourth week, Montague 
 developed a cold but paid no serious attention to 
 it. "False Shame," a comedy by Marshall, was 
 to be substituted on the Friday night which was 
 announced as Mr. Montague's benefit. He re- 
 hearsed daily and began the performance of his 
 part, Lord Chilton, with no indication of illness, 
 but had scarcely spoken a dozen words, when he 
 stepped forward and said: "Ladies and gentle- 
 men, I am not well; excuse me." The curtain fell, 
 poor Montague was assisted to his dressing-room,
 
 168 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 where he was seized with a hemorrhage of the 
 lungs. He was subsequently taken to the hotel 
 under the care of a physician. 
 
 The audience was a large one, and the manage- 
 ment was anxious that they should not be de- 
 prived of a performance so I undertook to play 
 the part of Lord Chilton (having previously 
 played it in New York) and Mr. Barton Hill read 
 the part I was to have played, Captain Bragleigh, 
 from the manuscript, and to quote the press of the 
 following morning, "the strange, fickle, capricious 
 audience positively enjoyed the performance, and 
 went home well satisfied." 
 
 Late that night the physicians reported Monta- 
 gue to be recovering, giving us all great encour- 
 agement. 
 
 For the matinee and night of Saturday, we sub- 
 stituted makeshift performances of scenes from 
 various plays and closed our engagement; in the 
 meantime Mr. Montague's condition appeared to 
 improve. 
 
 We were scheduled to leave San Francisco on 
 Monday for the East, so on Sunday I went across 
 the bay to Sausalito to spend a portion of the day 
 with some friends, returning to the city late in 
 the afternoon, having a dinner engagement for 
 the evening. 
 
 I went to Montague's room and found him 
 greatly improved and in fine spirits. He urged 
 me to stay and dine with Mr. Carroll, Miss Granger 
 and himself. I pleaded my engagement with a 
 mutual friend at the club, but he was so insistent
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 169 
 
 in urging me to pass our last evening in San Fran- 
 cisco together that I sent a note of apology to our 
 friend and remained. 
 
 Our dinner was served in his sitting-room, and 
 we were enjoying a very happy time when Gen. 
 Barton and Barton Hill, the managers of the Cali- 
 fornia Theatre, came in, and together with Mr. 
 Montague went into his adjoining bedroom to set- 
 tle some business matters connected with our en- 
 gagement. 
 
 In a few minutes Barton Hill came to the door 
 and cried, "Send for Dr. O'Toole, Montague has 
 another hemorrhage." I seized my hat, ran to 
 the elevator, descended to the court, took a cab 
 and hurried to Dr. O'Toole's office. He was not 
 there. I went to his house and his club but could 
 not find him, then I returned to the hotel and to 
 Montague's room. He was lying on the bed, our 
 friends and a resident physician of the hotel stand- 
 ing around him. 
 
 I went to his side, raised his head to my shoulder 
 and called him by name. The physician said "It 
 is useless, Mr. Warde, he s is gone." It was true. 
 He gave a half sigh, and poor Harry Montague 
 was dead on my breast. 
 
 Instead of leaving the next day, we held funeral 
 services over the body of our dead comrade and 
 friend. How kind and considerate everyone was. 
 Grief at his death was general, and many ladies 
 and gentlemen of social and professional promi- 
 nence attended the services. The room was a per- 
 fect bower of flowers. Miss Sharon, daughter of
 
 170 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 the Senator, who afterward became Lady Hesketh, 
 arranged the blossoms and gentle sympathetic 
 friends attended to the details. The Episcopal 
 service was rendered, the last look taken at the 
 still quiet face and tears fell freely as the casket 
 closed. 
 
 Montague had never married. Many women 
 had admired and some had loved him. Of his per- 
 sonal affairs I knew little, but I found among his 
 effects a carte de visite of an English lady, an ac- 
 tress, with an inscription on the back that led me 
 to believe he had loved her, and I placed it on his 
 breast when the body was dressed for burial. 
 
 The following day the same company that had 
 arrived so happily five weeks before started on the 
 homeward journey one of the company only a 
 memory, the rest oppressed with sorrow. 
 
 Time, like sleep, is the "balm of hurt minds" 
 and has softened the sadness of those days and 
 left only the remembrance of the generous wel- 
 come, the great big broad hospitality and sympa- 
 thetic kindness of the people who have made that 
 great empire of the West a land flowing with 
 milk and honey, blossoming like the rose, with a 
 pas that can boast of courage, endurance and en- 
 terprise that like Caesar came, saw and over- 
 came, and a future so bright, that the strongest 
 eyes are dazzled by the vision. 
 
 My wanderings have brought me to the Golden 
 West many times since my first visit recorded 
 above, each visit strengthening old friendships, 
 gaining new ones, and increasing my esteem and
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 171 
 
 affection for the people who have ever been so 
 indulgent toward my faults, and generous in their 
 substantial appreciation of such ability as I am 
 fortunate enough to possess.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The Warde-Barrymore Diplomacy Company. 
 
 On reaching Chicago on our return journey, Miss 
 Granger, Mr. Shannon and Mr. Carroll decided to 
 accompany Mr. Montague's body to New York. 
 Miss Jeffreys Lewis had remained in California. 
 
 Having paid all the respect and given all that 
 esteem and affection could give to the dead, I 
 felt it my duty to fulfill my obligations to the liv- 
 ing; so I remained in Chicago, rehearsed, and 
 after a week's postponement produced "Diplo- 
 macy" at McVicker's Theatre. 
 
 I played Henry Beauclerc as before, Maurice 
 Barrymore was engaged for Julian, and the other 
 parts were cast to the members of the stock com- 
 pany of the theatre as follows: 
 
 Dora Miss Meroe Charles 
 
 Countess Zicka Miss Affie Weaver 
 
 Lady Henry Fairfax Miss Alice Hastings 
 
 Marquise Mrs. Carrie Jamieson 
 
 Baron Stein , Mr. Harry Pearson 
 
 Count Orloff Mr. Edwards 
 
 Algie Fairfax Mr. Roland Reed 
 
 The play ran two weeks to capital business, but 
 Mr. T. Henry French, Montague's surviving part- 
 
 172
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 173 
 
 ner, decided not to continue the tour. Barrymore 
 and myself entered into partnership under the 
 name of Warde and Barrymore and bought the 
 rights of the play for the United States and Can- 
 ada. 
 
 Without loss of time we made our plans, en- 
 gaged our business staff and selected the company. 
 Two Italian artists of great ability, Signor and 
 Madame Majeroni, who had not been as success- 
 ful in this country as they deserved, were in Chi- 
 cago and, fortunately for us, at liberty, so we en- 
 gaged them for the parts of Count Orloff and the 
 Countess Zicka. 
 
 Our full cast was as follows: 
 
 Julian Beauclerc Maurice Barrymore 
 
 Henry Beauclerc F. B. Warde 
 
 Baron Stein H. Rees Davies 
 
 Count Orloff Signor Majeroni 
 
 Algie Fairfax John Drew 
 
 Markham Herbert Ayling 
 
 Dora Georgie Drew Barrymore 
 
 Countess Zicka Madame Majeroni 
 
 Lady Henry Fairfax Miss Annie Edmondson 
 
 Marquise de Rio Zares Mrs. E. F. Baker 
 
 Mr. Ed. Zimmerman was our agent in advance 
 and Mr. Phil Simmonds our business manager. 
 
 The company was an excellent one and gave a 
 splendid performance of the play, but the title, 
 "Diplomacy," conveyed little meaning to the 
 country at large at that time (1878). Neither
 
 174 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 Barrymore nor myself were known as "stars," 
 and in spite of the fact that our performance 
 greatly pleased our audiences and received the 
 warmest expressions of praise from the press, our 
 business was not financially satisfactory. 
 
 On reaching Washington, D. C., Mr. Barrymore 
 ancT I differed as to our future policy. He desired 
 to go South and West, I to the North and East. 
 We decided to separate and form two companies, 
 which were cast as follows: 
 
 Northern company Southern company 
 
 Julian Beauclerc F. B. Warde. .Maurice Barrymore 
 
 Henry Beauclerc.. .Henry Dalton. . 
 
 Baron Stein Geo. Jordan. .H. Rees Davies 
 
 Count Orloff Harry Lacey. . 
 
 Algie Fairfax Herbert Ayling. . 
 
 Dora Annie Edmondson. .Josephine Baker 
 
 Dountess Zicka.Gabrielle du Sauld. .Ellen Cummins 
 
 Marquise Carrie Jamieson. .Mrs. E. F. Baker 
 
 Lady Fairfax Adelaide Cherie. . 
 
 My company followed the route laid out for us 
 with moderate success without any special inci- 
 dents of interest, but Barrymore 's company met 
 with a terrible tragedy that resulted in the violent 
 death of Mr. Ben Porter, the serious wounding of 
 Barrymore and the breaking up of the company. 
 
 It was at Marshall, Texas. The company had 
 played at the Opera House there and were waiting
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 175 
 
 for the north bound Texas and Pacific train that 
 was to leave some time after midnight and take 
 them to Texarkana. 
 
 Mr. Barrymore, Mr. Porter and Miss Cummins 
 were seated at the lunch counter having some sup- 
 per. The counter, backed by a long mirror, ran 
 the entire length of the room, which was also used 
 as a bar divided only by a standing screen. One 
 man was serving both bar and lunch counter, and 
 the patrons of each department were visible to the 
 other by means of the mirror. 
 
 An employee of the railroad named Jim Currie, 
 was lounging at the bar, somewhat the worse for 
 liquor. He made several offensive remarks di- 
 rected at Miss Cummins. The bartender en- 
 deavored to quiet him, explaining who the people 
 were. Currie refused to be quieted, and coming 
 round the screen made another insulting remark 
 directly to them. At this Barrymore protested, 
 asserting that they were passengers waiting for 
 their train, taking refreshment in a place provided 
 by the railroad company for that purpose and they 
 desired to do so unmolested. 
 
 Currie sneeringly said, "Will you take it up?" 
 Barrymore replied: "I can't, I'm unarmed." 
 Currie said, ' ' So am I. " " What, haven ' t you got 
 a pistol on you?" asked Barrymore. "No," re- 
 plied Currie. "Well, I'll stand up for a woman, 
 anyway," said Barrymore, and started to take off 
 his overcoat. Currie immediately drew a revolver 
 and fired. 
 
 The ball entered Barrymore 's arm above the el-
 
 176 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 bow, glanced upwards and shattered his shoulder 
 blade. Porter stepped forward, protesting "We 
 don't want any trouble of this kind," when Currie 
 lowered his gun and shot Porter through the body 
 Porter was carried to the waiting room and died 
 in about twenty minutes, the ball falling from his 
 back as he was being undressed. 
 
 It was a cold-blooded, cowardly murder, and 
 the press and the people of Texas expressed'their 
 horror and indignation most emphatically. 
 
 The good people of Marshall were unremitting 
 in their attentions to Barrymore, who for some 
 six weeks, while recovering from his wound was 
 the guest of R. W. Thompson, Jr.; the station- 
 agent of the Texas and Pacific Railroad. Mr. 
 Thompson and his charming wife tended their pa- 
 tient with affectionate solicitude and Barrymore 's 
 rapid recovery from his wound was in a large 
 measure due to them. 
 
 Dick Thompson subsequently became a very 
 warm friend of mine, and in spite of the fact that 
 hei is now some years past three score and ten, 
 he is still the agent of the railroad at Marshall. 
 
 Jim Currie was tried and convicted of murder 
 in the first degree. On a legal technicality he was 
 granted a new trial, with the same result. He 
 managed through influence to get a third trial, 
 and was then acquitted on the ground of insanity! 
 
 At the conclusion of the third trial, Barrymore 
 remarked to the judge: "This reminds me of our 
 performances in England. ' ' * 'How so? " inquired 
 the gentleman. "We commence with a tragedy
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 177 
 
 and end with a farce," replied Barrymore. The 
 able jurist made no reply. 
 
 It was reported some time afterward that Cur- 
 rie had been killed in a brawl in a western mining 
 camp. 
 
 After the tragedy in Texas, I combined the com- 
 panies and reopened at Louisville, Ky., Barrymore 
 joining us after his recovery. We continued the 
 tour and closed our season at the Arch Street The- 
 atre in Philadelphia. 
 
 "Diplomacy" was a great play, but somewhat 
 in advance of the time for general audiences who 
 were not conversant with European methods of 
 life and diplomatic usage. Its revival some two 
 or three years ago, when the voice and influence 
 of the United States of America was a greater 
 factor in the destiny of the world, was more 
 timely and, as a consequence, more successful. 
 
 Maurice Barrymore, whose family name was 
 Herbert Blythe, was a most charming and attrac- 
 tive actor, well bred and well read. He had a 
 keen and ready wit and considerable literary abil- 
 ity. He had the courage of his convictions and 
 the mental and physical ability to maintain them. 
 His subsequent career was brilliant and only ter- 
 minated with his premature demise. 
 
 Two sons, John and Lionel, and one daughter, 
 Ethel Barrymore, have not only inherited their 
 father's ability, but have exceeded the hopes of 
 their warmest admirers and few actors stand 
 higher in the esteem and affection of playgoers of 
 the present day.
 
 178 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 Prior to our "Dipolmacy" tour, a mutual friend 
 had given me a letter of introduction to Henry 
 Watterson, the distinguished editor of The Cour- 
 ior-Journal of Louisville, Kentucky. 
 
 On reaching that city I presented my letter, was 
 most cordially received and Mrs. Warde and my- 
 self were invited to take dinner at the family 
 home. 
 
 It was one of the first Southern homes I had 
 visited and a revelation to me of a beautiful phase 
 of social and domestic life in that section of the 
 United States. 
 
 Captain Watterson, father of "Marse" Henry, 
 was in dress, carriage and punctilious courtesy "a 
 gentleman of the old school." 
 
 Standing straight as an arrow, he wore a light 
 blue body coat with gilt buttons, a buff waistcoat, 
 nankeen trousers, very tight with stirrup straps 
 under highly polished boots, a frilled shirt front 
 and a white neck cloth. With a head surmounted 
 with a mass of snow white hair he looked like 
 some old nobleman who might have lived in the 
 baronial homes of England or the historic cha- 
 teaux of France a hundred years ago. 
 
 Mrs. Watterson made a fit companion picture 
 to her husband. Old lace framed a face of deli- 
 cate refinement, beautiful in its gentle sweetness 
 and radiant with happy pride in her distinguished 
 son and gallant husband. 
 
 A colored butler, a sombre counterpart of his 
 master, formally announced: "Dinner is served." 
 Captain Watterson with polished courtesy es-
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 179 
 
 corted Mrs. Warde, a very modern young matron, 
 to the table. I followed with Mrs. Watterson and 
 "Marse" Henry, like the well bred young gentle- 
 man he was, walked behind. 
 
 This was some years ago. 
 
 I meet Colonel Henry Watterson now, at re- 
 gretably long intervals. In our maturity we talk 
 of old times and old friends. As we talk, the pic- 
 ture of that old home in Louisville, the figures of 
 that sweet old lady and gallant gentleman in their 
 beautiful domestic life and their distinguished son 
 in his young manhood rises to my mind and I find 
 it difficult to realize the years that have passed. 
 Then I marvel at the currents of fate that divert 
 and separate the paths of men, only to reunite 
 them in reminiscent memories. 
 
 What slight incidents to divert the currents of 
 our lives. For twelve years I had played in al- 
 most every form of dramatic entertainment. I 
 had supported practically all of the distinguished 
 actors of the English speaking stage, in comedy, 
 tragedy, modern drama and burlesque. I had al- 
 ternated great tragic parts with Edwin Booth and 
 I had recently played a great modern part Henry 
 Beauclerc in "Diplomacy" with success. Which 
 walk of the drama should I follow? My ambition 
 and inclination favored the tragic drama. Finan- 
 cial advantage seemed to attach to modern plays. 
 I was in doubt, when a chance meeting in the 
 street decided the matter. 
 
 Walking on Broadway, New York, with a friend, 
 we met and I was introduced to Captain Wm. M.
 
 180 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 Conner, manager of John McCullough. After our 
 greetings, Capt. Conner asked me what my plans 
 were for the ensuing season. I replied I had none. 
 He then asked me if I would like to travel with 
 and be featured as the leading support to Mr. 
 McCullough. 
 
 The proposition was attractive to me. I had 
 already played with him in the greater part of 
 his repertoire and the new parts were most con- 
 genial, so after slight negotiations and discussion, 
 the engagement was made. 
 
 The company assembled, and our season began 
 at Hamilton, Canada, early in September. 
 
 It was a most excellent company of actors, well 
 adapted by ability and experience for Mr. McCul- 
 lough 's extensive repertoire, and included; Mr. 
 Edmund K. Collier, Mr. John A. Lane, Mr. H. A. 
 Langdon, Mr. John Button, Mr. Harry Barton and 
 several others. Miss Emma Stockman was our 
 leading lady, Mrs. Augusta Foster played the 
 heavy parts and Miss Mittens Willett was the util- 
 ity lady. 
 
 Mr. McCullough was extremely popular with 
 the company, cordial to the principals and kind 
 and considerate to the younger members, who sup- 
 ported him loyally, giving most effective perfor- 
 mances and working together in perfect harmony. 
 
 John McCullough was born in Colraine, in the 
 north of Ireland, and came to the United States 
 at an early age with his parents, who settled in 
 Philadelphia. The first employment young Mc- 
 Cullough obtained was in the Philadelphia gas
 
 Lillian Russell
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 181 
 
 works, where he was a helper to Mike Moran, the 
 night attendant to the furnaces. 
 
 Mike Moran was a great admirer of Shakes- 
 peare, and particularly prided himself on his de- 
 livery of Marc Antony's address over the dead 
 body of Caesar. McCullough told me his first 
 knowledge of Shakespeare and the drama was 
 gained from Moran, who used to compel him to lie 
 down on the ground and impersonate the dead 
 Caesar while Moran delivered Antony's speech 
 standing over him, and addressing the open doors 
 of the furnaces. 
 
 Mike Moran subsequently moved to the west and 
 prospered. The last time I met him was a few 
 years ago at Joliet, Ills., where he was an alder- 
 man of the city. 
 
 After McCullough's experience at the gas works, 
 he was apprenticed to a chairmaker in Philadel- 
 phia, joined an amateur dramatic company, the 
 Wheatley Dramatic Association, I think it was 
 called, and finally obtained an engagement at the 
 old Walnut Street Theatre. 
 
 There his dramatic ability found opportunity 
 and he rose to the position of leading man. Ed- 
 win Forrest, playing a starring engagement at the 
 Walnut, was attracted by his appearance and abil- 
 ity and engaged him to travel as his leading sup- 
 port, which he did until that great tragedian re- 
 tired from the stage. 
 
 These facts were related to me by Mr. McCul- 
 lough, together with many anecdotes and detailed 
 descriptions of the personality, characteristics and
 
 182 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 methods of Mr. Forrest, until I seem to have seen 
 and known the great actor himself. McCullough 
 (had the greatest esteem and reverence for the* 
 memory of Mr. Forrest, and modelled all of his 
 performances on the conceptions and methods of 
 his distinguished preceptor, and with characteris- 
 tic candor admitted the fact. 
 
 I know of no actor who enjoyed a greater popu- 
 larity than John McCullough. He was the guest 
 of the principal clubs in the various cities we vis- 
 ited, and was socially entertained in the homes of 
 many of the most distinguished men in the coun- 
 try. 
 
 I am indebted to John McCullough for the privi- 
 lege of many friendships that I enjoy to this day 
 by his generosity in presenting me to his many dis- 
 tinguished admirers and friends. 
 
 I recall especially the Union League Club of 
 Cleveland, Ohio, and the coterie of prominent and 
 influential men that we met there, which included 
 William McKinley, Mark Hanna, later Senator, 
 William Edwards, father of General Clarence 
 Edwards, Mr. John Tod, Mr. Gordon and many 
 others who subsequently achieved national dis- 
 tinction. 
 
 In Chicago, Cincinnati, Washington and Balti- 
 more Mr. McCullough enjoyed the same popular- 
 ity as in Cleveland, and if I did not share his 
 honors I certainly enjoyed the pleasure of the at- 
 tentions that were shown him. 
 
 McCullough, usually played Richard III on Sat- 
 urday nights. It was the closing performance of
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 183 
 
 our engagement in Washington, D. C. General 
 William T. Sherman and a party occupied the 
 stage box. The General followed the performance 
 with the interest of a boy at the circus. During 
 the concluding combat between McCullough and 
 myself he rose from his seat and standing in the 
 front of the box, applauded as if it were a fight for 
 life instead of a prearranged stage combat. Mc- 
 Cullough was excited and as we reached the final 
 strokes called on me to begin the fight again. 1 
 did so, and we continued with renewed energy 
 until McCullough was exhausted and gave me the 
 cue to disarm and "kill" him. 
 
 The curtain fell. McCullough had risen. We 
 were both bathed in perspiration and breathing 
 heavily, when the General came excitedly on the 
 stage, placed his arms round our necks, holding 
 us on either side and said: "Boys, that was 
 grand! If I had an army of soldiers like you I'd 
 fight the world!" 
 
 At St. Louis, Mr. McCullough was very popu- 
 lar. The old Olympic Theatre was crowded at 
 every performance. 
 
 John Cockerill, editor of the St. Louis Post- 
 Dispatch, and Mr. McCulloch of the Globe-Demo- 
 crat were great friends and admirers of John Mc- 
 Cullough and extended their appreciation to me. 
 
 Miss Emma Stockman, who was the wife of John 
 W. Norton, the manager of the Grand Opera* 
 House in St. Louis, left us in that city, her place 
 being taken by Miss Kate Forsyth, a beautiful wo- 
 man and a charming actress, who played her
 
 184 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 repertoire of parts with great distinction and abil- 
 ity. 
 
 After visiting the northern and central cities 
 we went south. The same cordial greeting await- 
 ed McCullough there. I had covered that part of 
 the country with Mr. Booth, and it was a great 
 pleasure and satisfaction to me to return with Mr. 
 McCullough and find that I was not forgotten. 
 
 At Memphis, Tenn., we played a full week, prac- 
 tically under the auspices of the Chickashaw 
 Guards, a military organization composed of the 
 prominent young men of the city, and commanded 
 by a splendid soldier and disciplinarian, Captain 
 Sam Games, whose skill and ability had raised the 
 company to the position of the finest military or- 
 ganization of the south. 
 
 Mr. McCullough had contributed liberally to 
 the relief of the sufferers by the yellow fever epi- 
 demic in Memphis some years before, and pre- 
 sented a silken National flag to the "Chicks," as 
 the organization was familiarly called, and the 
 citizens and soldier boys showed their apprecia- 
 tion by lavish entertainment during our stay, the 
 military officers and substantial business men of 
 the city entertaining Mr. McCullough and the 
 rank and file taking charge of the company. 
 
 I date many sincere friendships from that very 
 happy week with the Chickashaw boys in Mem- 
 phis. 
 
 From Memphis to Nashville. Another delight- 
 ful week at the old Masonic Theatre, where a
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 185 
 
 splendid welcome and generous hospitality 
 greeted us. 
 
 A visit to General Harding at the celebrated 
 Belle Mead breeding farm, the home of Great Tom 
 and Enquirer, sires of so many kings and queens 
 of the turf was one of the features of our entertain- 
 ment. 
 
 Then to Montgomery and Mobile. Birming- 
 ham, the great industrial city of the south was yet 
 in its infancy and had no hall or theatre adequate 
 to our needs; but in both Montgomery and Mobile 
 there were fine old theatres rich in dramatic his- 
 tory and tradition, and I am happy to say they 
 still retained the good old-fashioned name of "the- 
 atre" and were not disguised as "Opera Houses," 
 or "Academies of Music." 
 
 Two interesting and contrasting personalities in 
 Mobile were T. C. DeLeon, manager of the Mobile 
 Theatre 'and Father Ryan, known and beloved as 
 the Poet-Priest of the South and as author of "The 
 Bonnie Blue Flag." DeLeon, keenly intellectual, 
 with the suavity and polish of the French Creole; 
 Father Ryan, the aesthetic, with long black hair 
 and careless attire, learned and profound. 
 
 From Mobile to New Orleans, playing a week at 
 the old Academy of Music on St. Charles Street, 
 under the management of David Bidwell. 
 
 A clause in our contract compelled us to keep 
 the curtain down not less than five minutes be- 
 tween each act, the reason being that Mr. Bidwell 
 owned the saloon in the front of the theatre and
 
 186 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 the interval enabled those in the audience who de- 
 sired to obtain liquid refreshment. 
 
 It was at that time the custom in New Orleans to 
 begin the matinee performance at twelve o'clock 
 noon. We found this custom very agreeable as it 
 gave us quite a long rest before the night perform- 
 ance. 
 
 It was Mardi Gras week, the hotels were 
 crowded and we had much difficulty in obtaining 
 accommodations. Many of the rooms in private 
 houses were preempted, but I managed to find 
 lodgings with a Creole family in an old fashioned 
 French house. 
 
 My room was very large with a high ceiling and 
 windows opening to the floor. It had a large 
 chandelier loaded with crystals, marble topped 
 furniture and a huge four-post bedstead. About 
 seven o'clock in the morning I was awakened by a 
 knock at my door. I called out, " Who's there?" 
 A strange voice replied: "It's me, honey." I 
 answered, "All right, I don't want to get up yet." 
 "I'se brought yoah coffee, honey," returned the 
 voice. I opened the door and there stood an old 
 negro mammy with a red bandana kerchief tied 
 over her head, carrying a tray with several cups of 
 black coffee and some small pieces of toast. I said: 
 "I don't want my breakfast yet." "This ain't 
 yoah breakfast, honey," she replied, as she came 
 right into the room, in spite of my night attire, 
 "this is yoah mornin' coffee. Breakfast won't be 
 served till ten o'clock. Go back to yoah bed 
 again." I took a cup of coffee and a piece of
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 187 
 
 toast, the mammy retired, so did I, back to bed 
 again. 
 
 It was my first experience of Creole methods of 
 living and I enjoyed it during the remainder of 
 my stay there. 
 
 The wonderful processions of the Knights of 
 Momus and other Carnival Societies were magnifi- 
 cent exhibitions of symbolic pageantry, and 
 Madame Begue's breakfasts, and the daily visits 
 to the old Absinthe house were interesting inci- 
 dents of my first sojourn in the queen city of the 
 gulf.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 The First of Many Visits to Texas. 
 
 From New Orleans we went to Texas. The rail- 
 road to Houston had not been completed so we 
 went from Morgan City to Galveston by steam- 
 ship. 
 
 It was my first visit to the Lone Star State. I 
 had heard and read much of the wildness of the 
 life there, but I found in the principal cities beau- 
 tiful homes of cultured people full of hospitality, 
 enterprising and progressive business men, sub- 
 stantial blocks of buildings, fine churches and 
 schools and an abiding faith in the future of their 
 state that time has fully justified. 
 
 In the smaller towns there were some primitive 
 conditions; but that was to be expected in a com- 
 paratively newly settled part of the country where 
 adventurers had come from all parts of the world, 
 where distances were great and even necessities 
 difficult to obtain. 
 
 The theatres were not elaborate; in fact, many 
 of them were simply halls, with wooden backed 
 benches and very little scenery; but they served 
 the purpose and our audiences came to see the act- 
 ing of the plays and were not influenced by the en- 
 vironment. 
 
 188
 
 Frederick Warde as Prospero in "The Tempest"
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 189" 
 
 In Galveston we found the Tremont Theatre 
 very well equipped; but in Dallas we played in a 
 long room over a newly built store on the main, 
 street. It was approached by a steep stairway on 
 the side. Two drygoods cases had been impro- 
 vised on the curb for a box office, and there Jake 
 Moniger, a humpbacked billposter, sold the tick- 
 ets. 
 
 Jake Moniger was a privileged character. If 
 anyone demurred at the location of his seat, Jake 
 would assail them with a volume of profanity that 
 would do credit to a Missouri mule-skinner or the 
 mate of a Mississippi steamboat. Jake's eccen- 
 tricities were well known and the people only 
 laughed at his vocal explosions that would have 
 cost another man his life. 
 
 There were no dressing rooms in the Opera 
 House. We dressed in our rooms in the Windsor 
 Hotel, crossed on a diagonal covered bridge to the 
 Exchange Hotel on the opposite side of the street 
 in the rear, entered a back room, climbed out of a 
 window, crossed a roof and entered the Opera 
 House by another v/indow that opened on the back 
 of the stage. When a change of dress was neces- 
 sary we had to make a return round trip by the 
 same route, passing through a double line of col- 
 ored chambermaids, negro porters and bell-boys, 
 whose characteristic laughter and comments on 
 our appearance and costume were, to say the least, 
 embarrassing. 
 
 The play was "Richelieu," and Jake Moniger 's
 
 190 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 picturesque profanity punctuated Bulwer Lytton's 
 dramtic poetry, at frequent intervals. 
 
 One of the most interesting cities in Texas was 
 San Antonio. It was then half American and half 
 Mexican, many of the houses built of adobe. The 
 San Antonio river, with its clear crystal water 
 winding through the town between palm trees and 
 banana bushes, and crossed by numerous bridges. 
 The old Alamo church standing on the great 
 Plaza, then falling in ruins, and now happily re- 
 stored. The ancient Cathedral and the old mis- 
 sions where the Jesuit fathers first raised the al- 
 tars of Christianity in that part of the world. It 
 was indeed a place of interest, and a link between 
 the old world and the new. 
 
 Like many of the other cities in that great state 
 of Texas, San Antonio is now a metropolis with 
 splendid streets, public buildings, hotels, churches, 
 theatres, parks and gardens, several important 
 newspapers and a large population that have every 
 reason to be proud of the result of their own en- 
 terprise and liberality. 
 
 At the time of which I write we played an entire 
 week in the Casino, a large hall built by a German 
 Society, on the banks of the river. It was fairly 
 well equipped with scenery, accommodated a large 
 audience and we taxed its capacity at every per- 
 formance. 
 
 From San Antonio to Austin, the capital of the 
 state. 
 
 A delegation of state officials met us on our way. 
 3?he party included Governor Hubbard, Attorney-
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 191 
 
 General Stilwell H. Russell and several others, 
 whose names and rank I forget; but one of the men 
 I distinctly remember; Ben Thompson, the town 
 marshal of Austin. 
 
 Thompson had the reputation of being abso- 
 lutely fearless. It was said that he had killed no 
 less than seventeen men in the course of his duty 
 and in self-defence, but had never taken a life 
 without giving his adversary a chance. 
 
 I found him a very agreeable man, quiet and 
 courteous but always alert. He never spoke of his 
 adventures but said he expected to die a sudden 
 and violent death, as he had many enemies who 
 would not hesitate to take his life if the opportu- 
 nity occurred. It did. He was shot to death some 
 years afterward in a variety theatre in San An- 
 tonio. 
 
 On the Friday night of our engagement in Aus- 
 tin, I played lago to the Othello of Mr. McCul- 
 lough. The following morning I was informed 
 that I had had a narrow escape from being shot 
 during the performance. The information came 
 from the editor of the local paper who sat immedi- 
 ately behind the man referred to in the following 
 incident, and who prevented the casualty. I ap- 
 pend in part the account as it appeared in the 
 newspaper. 
 
 "On Friday night when McCullough was play- 
 ing Othello at the Opera House in this city, a coun- 
 tryman became terribly excited at the villainy of 
 lago, as portrayed by Mr. F. B. Warde. Towards 
 the close of the play he drew his six-shooter and
 
 192 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 declared he would kill the d n scoundrel. On be- 
 ing told that the actor was only impersonating a 
 character, he remarked, 'He must be a damned 
 villain, anyhow, or he couldn't act it so well, and 
 if he didn't stop abusing that woman (Emelia) he 
 would shoot him, anyhow.' We congratulate Mr. 
 Warde that he escaped from the wrath of the 
 Texan. Although not intended it was a handsome 
 compliment to his genius as an actor. . . . We do 
 not wonder at the indignation of the man who 
 wanted to shoot him as his villainy was so per- 
 fectly correct that all lost sight of the actor and 
 only saw the desperate cold-blooded villain before 
 them." 
 
 I appreciated the compliment the countryman 
 had intended to convey but felt grateful to the 
 gentleman who fortunately sat behind him and 
 prevented the expression of his sentiments with his 
 six-shooter. 
 
 Mr. McCullough's tour then took us to the mid- 
 dle west with continued success, and closed on 
 May 1 at Lexington, Ky. 
 
 At the termination of our season I went to St. 
 Louis to take part in a most interesting perform- 
 ance at Pope's Theatre, for the benefit of Mr. 
 Charles Pope, the manager. 
 
 The play was "Romeo and Juliet," which was 
 made the vehicle for the first appearance on the 
 stage of Miss Ella Sturgis, daughter of General 
 Sturgis of the U. S. Army. 
 
 Miss Sturgis was a beautiful girl and made a 
 most emphatic success in the part of Juliet. I rec-
 
 Mrs. D. P. Bowers as the Duchess in "Lady Windemere's
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 193 
 
 ognized her ability, had rehearsed and instructed 
 her in the business of the play, but was more than 
 surprised at the excellence of her performance. 
 
 I took the part of Romeo, and with the excep- 
 tion of Adelaide Neilson, I never played with a 
 Juliet who more completely filled the ideal of the 
 part, to me. 
 
 Miss Sturgis was ambitious to adopt the stage as 
 a profession; family reasons and influence dis- 
 suaded her, but in my judgment, the stage lost a 
 brilliant actress by her decision. 
 
 I was re-engaged with McCullough for the fol- 
 lowing season, which began at Utica, New York, 
 on September 6. The principal members of the 
 company remained the same as before but some 
 changes and additions were made among the 
 younger element; notably Mr. E. H. Sothern, who 
 made his first appearance with us and, I believe, 
 his first appearance on the stage, under the name 
 of Edward Dee. He played the parts of Lucius, in 
 Virginius, Roderego in Othello, the King of France 
 in King Lear, Louis the Thirteenth in Richelieu, 
 Lucius, Brutus' page, in Julius Caesar, and others. 
 
 Young Sothern was an attractive youth, cul- 
 tured and refined; he dressed his parts with artis- 
 tic accuracy and played them with sincerity and 
 intelligence. He was a general favorite with the 
 company, was familiarly known as Eddie, and in 
 spite of the distinction he since achieved, he was 
 always Eddie Sothern to me. 
 
 Our second week was spent in Detroit. It was 
 State Fair week and we played at the Detroit
 
 194 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 opera House to immense crowds. Lawrence Bar- 
 rett had enjoyed similar prosperity at the Whit- 
 ney, the site of which is now covered by the post 
 office; and Saturday afternoon and evening that 
 glorious violin virtuoso, Remenyi, had given con- 
 certs in one of the public halls of Detroit. 
 
 By a happy coincidence Mr. Barrett, Mr. Mc- 
 Cullough and Remenyi were all resting over Sun- 
 day in the city an unusual circumstance, because 
 generally we had to travel on Sundays. John Mc- 
 Cullough and Remenyi were old friends, while 
 Mr. Barrett and McCullough had been for several 
 seasons associated in the management of the Cal- 
 ifornia theatre in San Francisco. The presence of 
 three such artists in the same city and in the same 
 house at the same time was an uncommon circum- 
 stance. 
 
 At that time Mr. Barrett's leading lady was Miss 
 Marie Wainwright; Louis James was his principal 
 male support. Miss Kate Forsyth and myself 
 held the like positions in Mr. McCullough 's com- 
 pany. A strong feeling of camaraderie existed be- 
 tween the members of both organizations, and the 
 rivalry of the tragedians was marked by the ut- 
 most good fellowship. McCullough invited Bar- 
 rett and Remenyi to a small social gathering that 
 Sunday evening in one of the parlors of the Rus- 
 sell House, which he had pre-empted for the occa- 
 sion. Included also in the invitations were Miss 
 Wainwright, Mr. James and other members of 
 Mr. Barrett's company, Miss Forsyth, John A. 
 Lane and myself of his own company, George
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 195 
 
 Goodale and one or two resident friends. The en- 
 tire party did not exceed fifteen or sixteen per- 
 sons. 
 
 It was a delightful evening. Everybody strove 
 to please, or to entertain with story, anecdote or 
 recitation. Remenyi had brought his violin, 
 probably his most cherished possession a genu- 
 ine and fabulously valuable Strad. There it lay 
 on a chair at one side of the room in its worn old 
 case, apparently forgotten; but it seemed to me 
 that the eyes of the master were never really off it. 
 Remnyi laughed at the stories, applauded the reci- 
 tations and otherwise signified his pleasure in our 
 proceedings. We did not ask him to play, nor did 
 he offer to do so until late in the evening. Then, 
 during a pause in the entertainment, and without 
 suggestion from us, he quietly rose from his seat, 
 walked over to his violin case, opened it carefully, 
 and, unwrapping the instrument from a soft silk 
 handkerchief, took a position in the centre of the 
 room and began to tune the strings. 
 
 We watched him in eager expectancy, for his 
 movements were very slow and deliberate. When 
 satisfied that his strings were at their proper ten- 
 sion, he adjusted the old handkerchief under his 
 cheek, the violin resting against it, and began. 
 
 At first he gave several Hungarian melodies, 
 then the national hymn of his country, and, follow- 
 ing our applause, Down Upon the Suwanee River, 
 Annie Laurie, The Last Rose of Summer, and 
 Home, Sweet Home. Of course his playing moved 
 us to other and louder demonstrations, but in com-
 
 196 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 parison with what we had heard they were discord- 
 antseemed painfully out of place and of course 
 utterly inadequate as expressions of our real feel- 
 ing's. Silence, and the tears that stood in our 
 eyes, were the later and better tribute we paid. 
 
 Finally, Remenyi said, in that delightfully char- 
 acteristic accent that gave quaintness to his per- 
 sonality: "I will play for you a piece of my own. 
 It has no name. I took it from a verse of the 
 Scriptures 'And our Saviour went out into the 
 garden and wept, 0, such bitter tears.' " 
 
 Again he played. I think I have never heard 
 such melody in any other place or time. It did 
 not seem possible that such strains could proceed 
 from any agency guided by human hands. I 
 could see our Saviour in Gethsemane. I could 
 feel His sorrow. I could see the tears of anguish 
 upon His cheeks. The eyes of the player were 
 closed, and he seemed unconscious of his en- 
 vironment, until the last note died away like a 
 sigh of the wind. Then, without a word, Remenyi 
 gently wound the old handkerchief round the vio- 
 lin, replaced it carefully in its case, and put the 
 bow in the cover. 
 
 The first sound following that impressive and 
 solemn stillness was the click of the hasp as he 
 closed the case. 
 
 Instantly the company seemed to wake as from 
 a spell. When we were come to earth again, with 
 a silent pressure of the hand, or in subdued voices, 
 we tried to express some measure of our apprecia- 
 tion of the genius that had so bound us to convey
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 197 
 
 some faint sense of our obligation to one whose 
 soul had gone out to us on the strings of his be- 
 loved instrument. 
 
 We separated with good wishes and gentle 
 thoughts. Some appreciable sign of them still is 
 visible over the far horizon that separates the ex- 
 perience of that unforgotten evening from the 
 practicality of the hard present. 
 
 Of the coterie that met in Detroit on that Sun- 
 day night nine-and-thirty years ago, only one or 
 two remain. Remenyi died upon the stage of a 
 San Francisco theatre, his violin clasped in his 
 arms. John McCullough great-hearted, lovable 
 John found peace after a pitiful few years of 
 madness. Lawrence Barrett passed away in the 
 plenitude of power, full of honors and while his 
 career was at its noblest. Louis James, in far 
 Montana, died like a soldier at his post. John 
 Lane, as cultured a gentleman as he was a genial 
 friend, closed his pilgrimage in Philadelphia only 
 a little while ago in honorable retirement. Beau- 
 tiful Kate Forsyth is only a memory in our hearts. 
 
 The incidents of that evening at Detroit's well 
 remembered Russell House are vivid facts with 
 me. The faces of old comrades and friends, their 
 smiles, their jests, their big hearts and their child- 
 like democracy of manner the utter absence of 
 cant, assumption and "airs," endear them to me 
 enduringly in spite of other interests and needs. 
 Looming large in the group is the figure of the old 
 Hungarian genius. I hear his broken accents; I 
 see him raise that precious instrument to his chin,
 
 198 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 and on the soft breath of memory is borne to me 
 again the music his soul evolved from the simple 
 words: 
 
 "And our Saviour went out into the garden and 
 wept, 0, such bitter tears." 
 
 I think Marie Wainwright and myself are the 
 only survivors of that gathering, which included 
 Harry Barton, Edmund K. Collier and Augusta 
 Foster. 
 
 The Lady of Lyons was one of our matinee 
 plays, with John McCullough in the romantic role 
 of Claude Melnotte. 
 
 From every point of view John was unsuited to 
 the part, and he knew it; but he played it at inter- 
 vals and it drew well. 
 
 Neither Ned Collier nor myself were in the cast, 
 but in the characteristic fashion of actors out of 
 the bill we would wander to the theatre, either to 
 the front or behind the scenes for at least a few 
 minutes at every performance. 
 
 It was in Milwaukee, Ned and I were idly stroll- 
 ing the street, when we passed a confectionery 
 store. In the window were a number of cakes cov- 
 ered with white icing, and a notice reading: "Any 
 inscription made on these cakes to suit the pur- 
 chaser." We bought a cake and had it inscribed: 
 "You take it, John," had it packed in a very at- 
 tractive box, and wended our way to McCullough 's 
 dressing room in Nunemacher's Grand Opera 
 House. 
 
 John was changing his dress when we entered.
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 199 
 
 He greeted us cordially and inquired what we had 
 been purchasing. 
 
 After an assumption of embarrassment, I said: 
 Ned Collier and I had received much consideration 
 and many kindnesses from him and we wished to 
 make a slight acknowledgment, handed him the 
 box and prudently backed near to the door. 
 
 I felt some remorse as John feelingly deprecated 
 any generosity, but he opened the box and then 
 we flew! Boots and other reachable articles fol- 
 lowed us down the stairs to the accompaniment of 
 several emphatic but uncomplimentary remarks as 
 we rapidly made our exit, realizing the truth of 
 old Jack Falstaff's philosophy: "The better part 
 of valor is discretion." 
 
 John McCullough was a good sportsman and 
 took our jest good-naturedly; but at night we 
 found a notice posted on the callboard by the man- 
 agement, to the effect that members of the com- 
 pany out of the bill were not to be allowed in the 
 theatre during the performances. 
 
 We played all of the large cities in the east, ex- 
 cept Boston, then in the middle west and revisited 
 the south and Texas. 
 
 The feature of the season was a four weeks' en- 
 gagement at the Fifth Avenue Theatre, New 
 York, where McCullough received the complete in- 
 dorsement of the metropolitan press, which had 
 hitherto been denied him, as well as the enthusias- 
 tic acknowledgment of the audiences. 
 
 We closed our season earlier than usual, as Mc- 
 Cullough had made arrangements to appear at
 
 200 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 Drury Lane Theatre in London. I had been en- 
 gaged to accompany and support him, but at the 
 last minute Augustus Harris, the manager of the 
 London Theatre, decided to play the opposite parts 
 and I accepted the situation. 
 
 I had almost forgotten a by no means unimpor- 
 tant member of the company, Robert Pritchard, 
 familiarly known as Bob, Mr. McCullough's body 
 servant and dresser. 
 
 Bob was an Irishman, short of stature but strong 
 as an ox. He could take up a ladder in a pair of 
 silk tights, make a Roman armor or rivet a boiler 
 with squal skill. He stood in wholesome awe, but 
 was devoted to "The Goov'nor," as he always 
 called Mr. McCullough. 
 
 Bob was very popular with the members of the 
 company to whom he was always ready to render 
 any assistance; but his bete noir was the mana- 
 ger, who reviewed his expense accounts and cut 
 down his charges for alcohol. 
 
 The amount of this fluid that Bob claimed he 
 used weekly for the lamp to heat his curling tongs 
 for the "Goov'nor's" hair would have been suffi- 
 cient to provide a steady flame for a month. 
 
 Bob occasionally appeared on the stage. In 
 Macbeth, there are a number of small parts, offi- 
 cers and servants who speak one or two lines. 
 Bob was cast for a messenger who brings Macbeth 
 the news of the approach of the English army. 
 He enters rapidly, expressing fear and excitement. 
 Macbeth angrily asks: "Where got'st thou that 
 goose look?" The messenger replies: "There is
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 201 
 
 ten thousand." "Geese, villain?" asks Macbeth, 
 to which he should answer: "Soldiers, sir," but 
 Bob was very nervous and when McCullough an- 
 grily asked the question: "Geese, villain?" Bob 
 promptly answered, "Yes, Sor!" 
 
 I don't know what became of Bob after McCul- 
 lough 's death. The last time I saw him he was 
 working in a trench on Broadway, New York, ap- 
 parently repairing the pipes that always seem to 
 be in need of attention on that busy thoroughfare. 
 
 Looking back over the two years I spent with 
 John McCullough, I cannot but marvel at his 
 achievements in spite of his early privations and 
 lack of mental cultivation. A man of little or no 
 education or capacity for character analysis, he 
 played the great parts of Shakespeare, Knowles 
 and Lytton with wonderful effectiveness. 
 
 His Virginius, Spartacus and Othello were re- 
 flections of the elements of his own nature, and the 
 portrayal of their various degrees of suffering 
 made a direct appeal to his own straightforward 
 manly instinct. The same may be said of some 
 parts of his King Lear; but the subtlety of Riche- 
 lieu and the philosophic reflections of Hamlet were 
 beyond him; yet he played Richelieu and Hamlet 
 with a dramatic effect that more than satisfied an 
 average audience. 
 
 His intimate friends were men of broad culture, 
 literary eminence and public prominence who re- 
 ceived and treated him with both deference and 
 honor and deemed it but a fitting tribute to his 
 worth and merit.
 
 202 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 I regarded him with great affection and cherish 
 his memory as that of a sincere friend, an excellent 
 actor and an honor to the profession that he so 
 conspicuously adorned.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 First Experience as a "Star.'* 
 
 Mr. James A. Herne had made an adaptation of 
 an old English play, "The Mariner's Compass," 
 and called it "Hearts of Oak," playing it with 
 considerable success in the eastern cities. 
 
 Mr. David Dalzell, who was the husband of Miss 
 Dickie Lingard, prepared another version of the 
 same play and called it "Oaken Hearts." 
 
 I was engaged to play the leading part, Mark 
 Dawson. We opened at Pope's Theatre, St. 
 Louis, early in May. During the week Mr. Herne, 
 through his manager, Mr. Bert, sought an injunc- 
 tion restraining our production of the play. Miss 
 Lingard, Mr. Dalzell, Mr. Frank Pierce and myself 
 were summoned as witnesses in the case. It was 
 practically proved at the first hearing that "The 
 Mariner's Compass," under existing laws, was 
 common property in this country, but the case was 
 adjourned to the following week for a further 
 hearing. The witnesses were ordered by the court 
 to appear at the adjournment, but were privately 
 told by the attorneys that there would probably be 
 no further proceedings; so upon the conclusion of 
 our engagement in St. Louis, the company went to 
 Chicago and opened at Hooley's Theatre. 
 
 203
 
 204 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 During the week Frank Pierce and I were ar- 
 rested by a United States marshal and taken back 
 to St. Louis to answer to a charge of contempt of 
 court. 
 
 The marshal was a good natured fellow and did 
 not submit us to any indignity, but it was a very 
 embarrassing position; however, on appearing be- 
 fore the judge the following morning, we explained 
 the circumstances, apologized for any disrespect, 
 and were released. 
 
 No further legal proceedings were taken, the 
 play not proving worth an expensive legal battle. 
 "Hearts of Oak" continued a success for Mr. 
 Herne, but "Oaken Hearts" ceased to exist as a 
 dramatic attraction. 
 
 On returning to New York I played lago to the 
 Othello of Mr. William Stafford, for a week at the 
 Windsor Theatre on the Bowery. Mr. Stafford 
 was a young man with a worthy ambition, but like 
 Macbeth's, it o'erleapt itself and fell on the "other 
 side." Miss Anna Boyle, a very promising young 
 actress, was the Desdemona of the occasion. 
 
 At this time Mr. John J. Collins, our stage man- 
 ager, with Mr. McCullough, made a proposal to an- 
 nounce me as a star attraction in a repertoire of 
 Shakespearean and classic plays. After fourteen 
 years' active experience, conscientious study and 
 considerable success in many of the characters, he 
 proposed that I should play. I felt justified in ac- 
 cepting the proposition. 
 
 Our contract was made for three years. The 
 plays were to be selected by mutual agreement and
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 205 
 
 Mr. Collins was to provide an efficient company 
 and equipment. It was also arranged that I 
 should hereafter be advertised as "Frederick 
 Warde," omitting B, the initial letter of my moth- 
 er's maiden name of Barkham that I had used 
 hitherto. 
 
 It was an important period in my career and a 
 hazardous undertaking, too, as I fully realized. 
 
 I spent the summer in preparation and study. 
 
 Henry Aveling, a young English actor who came 
 to this country with Daniel Bandmann, was en- 
 gaged as leading man, Miss Florence Elmore as 
 leading lady. The company also included Leon- 
 ard Outram, L. F. Rand, James Curran, W. S. 
 Marion, 0. W. Blake and Miss Marian Clifton, all 
 capable and experienced actors. Counting our 
 subordinate members, the company numbered 
 twenty-one in all. 
 
 We selected an extensive repertoire, including 
 Hamlet, Othello, Richard III, Merchant of Venice, 
 Macbeth, Romeo and Juliet and The Lady of 
 Lyons, afterward adding Virginius and Damon 
 and Pythias, and later Richelieu. 
 
 We began our season on Friday, Sept. 2, 1881, 
 at Moberly, Mo., opening the new Carmody Opera 
 House, playing two nights and a matinee, as a pre- 
 liminary try-out. 
 
 We gave Hamlet the first night, The Lady of 
 Lyons for the matinee and Richard III the second 
 night. 
 
 I vividly recall my feelings on that eventful 
 Friday night. Moberly was not an important
 
 206 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 dramatic centre, nor did I expect any analytical 
 criticism from the audience ; but it was my first ap- 
 pearance in the character of Hamlet, my first 
 appearance as a star, with a company entirely new 
 and strange to me, and the opening of a new the- 
 atre. 
 
 I realized that not only my personal future 
 largely depended on the success of the perform- 
 ance, but that the success of the enterprise de- 
 pended on me. I felt the responsibility of the di- 
 rection of the play and the company. I had 
 learned obedience to authority and discipline, but 
 it was a new experience to take command myself. 
 
 I went to the theatre early, dressed leisurely 
 and walked about to accustom myself to my cos- 
 tume, which was new. I was speedily bathed in 
 perspiration, for it was an abnormally hot night. 
 Then sat in my dressing room and waited, solac- 
 ing myself with the actor's philosophy, "Twelve 
 o'clock must come.*' 
 
 An address by a local politician preceded the 
 performance. The gentleman eulogized every- 
 thing and everyone connected with the theatre, in- 
 cluding the owner, the architect, the builder, the 
 painter, the gasfitter and myself, in a lengthy dis- 
 course that made Hamlet's soliloquy seem like a 
 casual remark; and then the play began. 
 
 Hamlet does not appear until the second scene 
 of the play and does not speak until after the King 
 has given Laertes leave to return to France. 
 
 Most of the Hamlets I have known made their
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 207 
 
 entrance on the scene at this point, thus securing 
 recognition and a reception from the audience. 
 
 I preferred to be discovered at the opening of 
 the scene when the King, Queen and the full court 
 are assembled and disclosed. I took a position 
 standing by a window apparently gazing into va- 
 cancy and remained there till I was personally ad- 
 dressed by the King. The result was, I was not 
 recognized by the audience till I advanced and 
 spoke my first line: "A little more than kin, and 
 less than kind." 
 
 A splendid greeting was then given me, and, en- 
 couraged by the hearty welcome, I proceeded with 
 greater confidence and by the time I reached the 
 first soliloquy, beginning: "Oh, that this too, too 
 solid flesh would melt!" I was master of myself. 
 
 All went well until my first scene with the Ghost, 
 where Horatio and the soldiers endeavor to re- 
 strain the prince from following the spirit. Ham- 
 let breaks from the grasp of his friends and draw- 
 ing his sword, exclaims: "By heaven, I'll make a 
 ghost of him that lets me. ' ' But my sword got en- 
 tangled in the hanger and refused to draw; in 
 spite of every effort it stuck in the scabbard, and 
 there I had to leave it. 
 
 Nothing more of moment occurred to mar the 
 success of the play, which was admirably acted by 
 the company and received with much enthusiasm 
 by the audience. 
 
 Congratulations and good wishes from friends, 
 prophecies of a successful season, a little supper, a
 
 208 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 tired body but a happy heart, sanguine with hope, 
 and the night was over. 
 
 The two performances on Saturday went off sat- 
 isfactorily and served to demonstrate the excel- 
 lence of our company and their ability to do jus- 
 tice to our extensive repertoire. 
 
 The performances in Moberly had been in the 
 nature of a preliminary episode to enable the com- 
 pany and myself to get acquainted with each oth- 
 er's personality and methods. The regular open- 
 ing of the season was an engagement at Pope's 
 Theatre, St. Louis, for the following week. 
 
 Hamlet was our first bill, followed by Othello, 
 Merchant of Venice, Richard III, Romeo and 
 Juliet and Macbeth. 
 
 I was no stranger in St. Louis, and I received, as 
 I had anticipated, a most cordial welcome. 
 
 The weather was intensely hot. Our business 
 suffered in consequence but the week as a whole 
 was satisfactory. 
 
 The following extract from the weekly review of 
 dramatic events in the Sunday edition of the St. 
 Louis Republican of Sept. 11, aptly describes the 
 conditions under which the engagement was 
 played, and records the general verdict of the au- 
 diences: 
 
 "The meteorological conditions were of a character 
 to point out infallibly who are the best friends of dra- 
 matic art in our city. The weather all week was so 
 insufferably hot that nobody could think of going to 
 the theatre for mere amusement. W aide's audiences
 
 Louis James
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 209 
 
 went through the test of fire and made their record as 
 the best friends of the drama. Many of its cool weather 
 patrons had not returned from their summer wander- 
 ings; but notwithstanding this melting and thinning 
 process Warde's audiences were good better, much 
 better than even he or the management could have ex- 
 pected. In the nature of the case they represented the 
 very best dramatic culture and critical taste, and their 
 verdict is substantial. There was no claque or clap- 
 trap about it, and it may as well be said now that it 
 pronounced emphatically both an artistic and popular 
 success for Frederick Warde. Under all the disadvan- 
 tages attendant upon beginning, together with the 
 drawbacks already noted, the actor commanded atten- 
 tion and forced his way to public recognition and in- 
 dorsement. This is glory enough for the initial engage- 
 ment of his season, and it will shine before him and 
 illuminate his pathway wherever he goes. . . . And 
 thus Frederick Warde has come to the legitimate drama 
 triumphantly, and in his coming there is a wealth of 
 promise and the bright star of hope." 
 
 On the Sunday evening following my engage- 
 ment, I was by special dispensation, initiated into 
 St. Louis Lodge, No. 9, of the Benevolent and Pro- 
 tective Order of Elks, of which lodge I have ever 
 since been a member. 
 
 John W. Norton, manager of the Grand Opera 
 House, and a very popular actor who had sup- 
 ported Mary Anderson for some seasons, was the 
 Exalted Ruler and presided at the ceremonies, 
 which were beautiful and impressive.
 
 210 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 There were then only fourteen lodges in the or- 
 der with a limited membership. Today there are 
 more than a thousand lodges in the country and a 
 membership of more than six hundred thousand. 
 Then, I was No. 118 on the roster; now I am No. 
 3 in point of seniority in my lodge in St. Louis. 
 
 On leaving St. Louis, we began a tour that took 
 us to the west, the southwest and to Texas, where 
 I was most cordially received and liberally pa- 
 tronized. Returning through the southern coun- 
 try, I again experienced the native proverbial gen- 
 erosity and practical appreciation, especially in 
 Nashville and Memphis. Then, to the middle 
 west, closing our season at Joliet, 111., on April 
 14, 1882. 
 
 The result of our first season was: Thirty-two 
 consecutive weeks of extended travel with the loss 
 of only one night, Sept. 20, on which we closed 
 the theatre out of respect to the memory of Presi- 
 dent Garfield, who had died the night before. 
 
 We had played an extensive repertoire of classic 
 plays to fair audiences who had given us the warm- 
 est encouragement. The press had unequivocally 
 recognized my claims to stellar prominence. We 
 had booked a complete tour for the following sea- 
 son that included dates in almost all of the towns 
 we had already visited, and had secured time in 
 many of the large cities. Even though Mr. Col- 
 lins and I had not made a fortune, we were happy 
 and content. 
 
 A party of friends, including 0. W. Ruggles, of 
 the Erie Railroad, Mr. Hamiin, of the Grand Opera
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 211 
 
 House, Chicago, and David Dalzell of the "News 
 Letter," had come from Chicago to congratulate 
 us on the successful result of the season, and to- 
 gether with the principal members of the com- 
 pany, who had been re-engaged for the next sea- 
 son, we enjoyed a farewell supper and parted for 
 the summer vacation. 
 
 A pleasant but somewhat embarrassing incident 
 occurred on my arrival in the afternoon. Mike 
 Moran, who had formerly been John McCul- 
 lough's boss in the gas works at Philadelphia, was 
 now an Alderman of the city of Joliet. He de- 
 sired to show his regard to the man who had sup- 
 ported his friend on the stage, and he had engaged 
 an open carriage and a full brass band to meet me. 
 
 On my arrival at the depot, I was conducted to 
 the carriage and escorted by the band, in bright 
 red uniforms, to the hotel to the accompaniment of 
 national airs and the cheers of the omnipresent 
 small boys of the street. 
 
 Good old Mike Moran, who rode by my side, was 
 a proud and happy man, but while I appreciated 
 his tribute of regard, I did not share his enthusi- 
 asm. 
 
 A well earned vacation followed, interrupted 
 only by a week's engagement at the Park Theatre, 
 Boston, playing Julian Gray, to the Mercy Mer- 
 rick of Clara Morris in "The New Magdalen." It 
 was my first appearance in Boston, and I had 
 every reason to be proud of my reception by the 
 public and the press. 
 
 Two more seasons followed under Mr. Collins,
 
 212 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 covering practically the same route as the first, 
 but playing in some of the larger cities, with vary- 
 ing fortune. 
 
 Some changes occurred in the company, notably 
 Miss Anna Boyle was the leading lady, and Mr. 
 John Malone replaced Mr. Aveling as the leading 
 man. 
 
 We played the same repertoire strongly featur- 
 ing Virginius, in which character I had been very 
 successful, and adding Shakespeare's Julius Cae- 
 sar, and John Howard Payne's tragedy Brutus, or 
 "The Fall of Tarquin." 
 
 Sedalia, Missouri, at the time of which I write, 
 was a small town, its population composed almost 
 entirely of railroad employees and their families, 
 it being an important division point. 
 
 The alleged "Opera House" at Sedalia was a 
 long, narrow hall upstairs and over two stores fac- 
 ing the railroad station. 
 
 It had a gallery at one end and a small stage at 
 the other. The triangles formed by the prosce- 
 nium were the only dressing rooms. 
 
 The audience was a comparatively large one and 
 the play of Virginius, with its intense human sym- 
 pathy and admirable construction, interested them 
 greatly. 
 
 It may be recalled that Virginia, daughter of 
 Virginius, is claimed and seized by Vibulanus as a 
 slave. The claim is contested by Virginius with 
 all the indignation of an outraged father, and the 
 cause is brought before Appius Claudius as chief 
 Decemvir for trial. The unjust judge decides
 
 Louis James as Falstaff
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 213 
 
 against the father and orders the girl to be given 
 into the possession of Vibulanus. As this decision 
 means the dishonor of his daughter, Virginius 
 seizes a whittle from a butcher's stall and stabs his 
 daughter to death before the assembled multitude. 
 He afterward strangles Appius Claudius to death 
 and dies himself from grief and the excitement of 
 the terrible tragedy; but, Vibulanus, the subordi- 
 nate villain of the story is not disposed of by the 
 dramatist and the play concludes with the death of 
 Virginius. 
 
 At the conclusion of the play in Sedalia the audi- 
 ence remained in their seats while I and the other 
 actors in the mimic tragedy went to our dressing 
 rooms to remove our make-up and transform our- 
 selves from ancient Romans to modern American 
 citizens. 
 
 I had removed my toga, tunic and upper gar- 
 ments and was busily engaged with soap, water 
 and towel when a knock came to my dressing room 
 door. I inquired, "Who's there?" A voice re- 
 plied, "Me the manager." "What's the trouble?" 
 I asked. "The people won't go out," he replied. 
 "I am sorry," I said, "but the play is ended," and 
 suggested that he put out the footlights to indi- 
 cate that the entertainment was concluded, and 
 continued my ablutions. 
 
 A few moments later he came again to my door, 
 saying, "I turned out the lights but they won't 
 move. What shall I do?" "Go in front of the 
 curtain and tell them the performance is over," I
 
 214 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 suggested. "I wouldn't go in front of that cur- 
 tain for a hundred dollars," he protested. 
 
 The novelty and humor of the situation then ap- 
 pealed to me, and I volunteered: "Wait a minute 
 and I'll go and tell them myself." 
 
 I still had on my fleshling tights and Roman 
 sandals, so I put a bath towel round my neck and 
 enveloped myself in a long Ulster overcoat. My 
 face being ruddy with the recent friction of the 
 towel and my hair gloriously dishevelled from the 
 same cause, my general appearance must have in- 
 dicated Puck grown up and in winter clothes. 
 
 I stepped before the curtain still impressed with 
 the humor of the occasion, and addressed the audi- 
 ence: "Ladies and gentlemen, the play is over. I 
 am dead, Virginia is dead, Dentatus is dead, Ap- 
 
 pius Claudius is dead " when a voice from the 
 
 back part of the gallery exclaimed in clear, bell- 
 like tones that reached every corner of the build- 
 ing: ' 'What have you done with that other son of 
 a gun?" 
 
 I disappeared and the audience dispersed. 
 
 It was at Topeka, Kansas; I had played Brutus 
 in Julius Caesar. Archibald Forbes, the celebrated 
 English war correspondent, had lectured on a 
 local lyceum course the same evening. After his 
 lecture he came to the Opera House and witnessed 
 the two last acts of the play. After the perform- 
 ance we enjoyed a cigar and an hour's chat in my 
 room at the hotel. 
 
 The costumes worn by our Roman soldiers in the 
 play were a compromise between the ancient and
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 215 
 
 medieval, and consisted of brown leggings, a tunic 
 and a cape with a hood covering the head. The en- 
 tire dress was liberally ornamented with metal 
 concaves. The dress was effective and serviceable 
 if not archaeologically correct. 
 
 During our discussion of the play and its cos- 
 tuming, Forbes said to me, in the peculiar English 
 drawl, characteristic of his speech: "Warde, you 
 gave me some information tonight that has hith- 
 erto escaped me. I knew the Romans had ex- 
 tended their conquests to Gaul and Britain, but I 
 did not know they had impressed the Esquimaux 
 into their armies." 
 
 One Sunday in the fall of '83, I was en route 
 from Detroit to Flint, Mich., and stopped over in 
 Milwaukee to see John McCullough, who had not 
 been well for some time. I had a pleasant visit, 
 took luncheon and sat chatting with him in the of- 
 fice of the Plankington Hotel. He suddenly ex- 
 cused himself and left me. He was leaving with 
 his company for Chicago in the afternoon, and I 
 thought he had gone to his room for something he 
 had forgotten. I waited as long as I could, but he 
 did not return and I had to leave for my train. I 
 never saw McCullough alive again. 
 
 I learned afterward that when his carriage came 
 to take him to the depot he was nowhere to be 
 found. But in the evening at about eight o'clock, 
 a farmer brought him to the hotel in a buggy. He 
 had met McCullough aimlessly wandering on a 
 country road some six miles from town, recognized 
 and addressed him, found him incoherent, induced
 
 216 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 him to get into the buggy and brought him to 
 town. 
 
 The following week while playing at McVick- 
 er's Theatre, Chicago, McCullough's illness in- 
 creased, his mentality failed and he was compelled 
 to close his engagement. Subsequently he was 
 taken to the asylum for the insane at Blooming- 
 dale and died about a year following his break- 
 down. 
 
 I saw his poor remains at his former home. I 
 followed them to the grave and with his brother 
 Elks dropped a bunch of forget-me-nots on the cas- 
 ket as it lay in its last resting place in the cemetery 
 in Philadelphia, where a worthy monument was 
 erected to his memory. 
 
 Dear old comrade and friend! In spite of his 
 success, his life had not been without its sorrows, 
 but he found rest at last. 
 
 The inscription on his monument is a just trib- 
 ute to the actor, but could I have written it, I 
 would have said of the man: "Those who knew 
 him best loved him most." 
 
 In March, 1884, an unfortunate estrangement 
 occurred between Mr. Collins and myself on both 
 personal and business grounds and I left the com- 
 pany and his management. It was a drastic meas- 
 ure to take but I felt at the time, and still think, 
 my action was justified. Recriminating law suits 
 followed, harassing and vexing, without satisfac- 
 tion to either side, until time and reason ended the 
 litigation.
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 217 
 
 In April, '84, the second Dramatic Festival took 
 place at the Springer Music Hall in Cincinnati. 
 
 The Festival had been inaugurated the year pre- 
 ceding, with Edwin Booth, Lawrence Barrett, 
 John McCullough, James Murdock, Mary Ander- 
 son and others. This year Madame Modjeska, 
 Fanny Davenport, Thomas W. Keene, Stuart Rob- 
 son, W. H. Crane and myself, were the principals. 
 
 The Springer Music Hall is a very large build- 
 ing with an immense stage, and the plays were 
 produced 'on a very elaborate scale. 
 
 Enormous houses were drawn to the Festival, 
 not only from the city of Cincinnati, but from 
 many points quite distant from which special ex- 
 cursion trains were run. 
 
 The programme of plays and cast of principals 
 were as follows: 
 
 Monday, April 21st Julius Caesar. 
 
 Brutus Frederick Warde 
 
 Cassius Barton Hill 
 
 Marc Antony Thos. W. Keene 
 
 Portia Constance Hamblin 
 
 Calphurnia Anna Warren Storey 
 
 Tuesday, April 22d Twelfth Night. 
 
 Viola Madame Modjeska 
 
 Olivia Mary Shaw 
 
 Malvolio Barton Hill 
 
 Sir Toby Belch W. H. Crane 
 
 Sir Andrew Ague-Cheek. .Stuart Robson
 
 218 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 Wednesday Matinee, April 23rd Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 Romeo Thos. W. Keene 
 
 Mercutio Frederick Warde 
 
 Friar Lawrence Frank Clements 
 
 Juliet Madame Modjeska 
 
 Nurse Mrs. A. Pennover 
 
 Wednesday Night The Comedy of Errors. 
 
 Dromio of Ephesus Wm. H. Crane 
 
 Dromio of Syracuse Stuart Robson 
 
 Antipholus of Ephesus Frederick Warde 
 
 Antipholus of Syracuse. . .Barton Hill 
 
 Adriana Miss Marie Prescott 
 
 The Abbess Miss Mary Myers 
 
 Thursday, April 24th As You Like It. 
 
 Rosalind Fanny Davenport 
 
 Celia Mary Shaw 
 
 Orlando Frederick Warde 
 
 Jaques Thos. W. Keene 
 
 Touchstone . . . ., Stuart Robson 
 
 Duke, in exile Barton Hill 
 
 Friday, April 25th Othello. 
 
 Othello Thos. W. Keene 
 
 lago Frederick Warde 
 
 Cassio Barton Hill 
 
 Desdemona Madame Modjeska 
 
 Emelia Mrs. Agnes Booth
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 219 
 
 "As You Like It" was repeated for the Saturday 
 matinee, and on Saturday night, April 26th, the first 
 part of King 1 Henry the Fourth. 
 
 King Henry the Fourth. .Frank Clements 
 
 Prince Henry Frederick Warde 
 
 Hotspur Thos. W. Keene 
 
 Falstaff John Jack 
 
 Lady Percy Anna Warren Storey 
 
 An interesting incident occurred during the per- 
 formance of "As You Like It." Mr. W. H. 
 Crane, or as he is affectionately known, "Billy" 
 Crane, was in the audience and Stuart Robson, his 
 associate, was on the stage, playing Touchstone. 
 It suddenly occurred to "Billy" that it was the 
 first time since the association of Robson and 
 Crane that one had appeared on the stage without 
 the other. "Billy" didn't like the idea; he came 
 to the back of the stage, found the costumer, pro- 
 cured a pair of large russet boots, a hunting tunic 
 and a spear, cajoled one of the foresters to let him 
 take his place and astonished us all by making his 
 entrance in one of the scenes in the forest and 
 proudly speaking the one line of his part: "He 
 saves my labor by his own approach." And thus 
 the association of Robson and Crane was not inter- 
 rupted.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 I Visit Many Places and Meet Many People. 
 
 In the interim between seasons I took part in a 
 performance of some interest at Haverley's Thea- 
 tre, Brooklyn, then under the management of 
 W. A. McConnell. It was on the afternoon and 
 evening of May 17, 1884, for the benefit of the at- 
 taches of the theatre. 
 
 In the afternoon I played Romeo to the Juliet 
 of Mrs. Alice Chapin Ferris, a prominent lady in 
 Brooklyn society. In the evening Richelieu was 
 the bill. I was the Cardinal; W. A. McConnell was 
 De Mauprat, and the then prominent young busi- 
 ness man and amateur, now the popular and deb- 
 onair star in modern drama, Robert C. Hilliard, 
 was the Count de Baradas. I believe this was Bob 
 Hilliard 's first appearance with professional act- 
 ors. 
 
 The following June, I was engaged by Williams 
 and Tillotson, to go to San Francisco, accompa- 
 nied by Miss Kate Forsyth, to produce two mod- 
 ern plays, of which Mr. Tillotson was the author, 
 called "Lynwood," and "Queena." It was my 
 first visit to the Pacific coast since "Diplomacy," 
 and I anticipated the trip with pleasure. 
 
 The plays, however, were not successful so the 
 
 220
 
 Frederick Warde and his son Ernest as King Lear and his Fool
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 221 
 
 management substituted Ingomar and Virginius, 
 with Kate Forsyth as Parthenia and Virginia, and 
 I played Ingomar and Virginius. 
 
 Both parts were familiar to Miss Forsyth and 
 myself, and our performances were a great suc- 
 cess. It is perhaps one of the few instances when 
 two old legitimate plays redeemed the failure of 
 two modern dramas and brought success to the en- 
 terprise. 
 
 I trust I may be pardoned if I quote with pride 
 the following opinion of George Dinsmore, the 
 veteran dramatic critic, in the San Francisco Eve- 
 ning Bulletin, published the day after the per- 
 formance of Virginius: 
 
 "Mr. Ward's Virginius places him in the first rank 
 of living tragedians. To those who have only seen 
 him in the melodramas produced at the California 
 Theatre some weeks ago, his masterly impersonation of 
 the "Roman Father" was a revelation. No one sup- 
 posed he possessed such tragic power, or to have given 
 the higher range of characters the study their success- 
 ful impersonation requires. Mr. Booth as lago, in the 
 last act of Othello, was supposed to have reached the 
 limit of the capacity of the human countenance to ex- 
 press emotion, but Mr. Warde's last act of Virginius is 
 equally great. In some respects it was greater, as the 
 play of expression was more varied. While the third 
 and fourth acts were grand, as exhibitions of tragic 
 power, the fifth was the artistic triumph. The delinea- 
 tion of the working's of the disordered mind, the dis- 
 cordant laugh followed by a mental glimpse of the
 
 222 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 past which suffused his eyes with tears, the terrible 
 realism of his call for his dead daughter, with the 
 thrilling whisper of the -lines 
 
 "I hear a sound so fine 
 That nothing lives 'twixt it and silence," 
 
 were examples of tragic acting we have not seen in 
 many years. The last scene in which the death-stricken 
 face of Virginius is seen upturned while the hands 
 clutch the throat of Claudius was a fit crown for this 
 superb performance. 
 
 The success of Miss Forsyth and myself in the 
 two plays was so marked that the management de- 
 cided to take us to Portland, Oregon, and to return 
 east over the Northern Pacific R. R., stopping at 
 several points on that road. 
 
 We repeated our success in Portland and pro- 
 ceeded to Spokane Falls, as it was then called, 
 where we played over the fire engine house to a re- 
 markably cultivated and appreciative audience. 
 
 Thence to Butte, Montana, then quite a rough 
 and primitive mining camp. 
 
 Miss Forsyth and I had letters of introduction 
 from Mr. J. B. Haggin, of San Francisco, to Mr. 
 Marcus Daly, his general superintendent; the re- 
 sult was a very cordial welcome and an opportu- 
 nity to see everything of interest in the camp, our 
 experience including a descent to the 800-foot level 
 in the celebrated Anaconda copper mine. 
 
 The manager of Henshaw Hall in Butte, which 
 was used as a theatre, was John Maguire, a good-
 
 FIFTY YjflARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 223 
 
 natured Irishman whose chief pride was his re- 
 semblance to Lawrence Barrett, the tragedian. A 
 suggestion to that effect secured you his friend- 
 ship. 
 
 Mr. Maguire spoke with a strong Irish accent, of 
 which he was, of course, unconscious: he had been 
 an actor but had given up the stage to take the 
 management of the halls and theatres on the Mon- 
 tana circuit and was exceedingly popular through- 
 out that part of the country. 
 
 John was a man of many eccentricities, generous 
 to a fault, loyal to his friends, fond of good com- 
 pany and ready to recite at every opportunity. 
 His favorite selections were: Tennyson's "Charge 
 of the Light Brigade," Hood's "The Bridge of 
 Sighs," and "Shamus 'Brian," all of which he 
 gave with intense earnestness in his native accent. 
 
 John's resourcefulness and ready wit to meet 
 emergencies were keenly developed by his experi- 
 ences in the early days of Montana when he trav- 
 elled from camp to camp as an entertainer. 
 
 I can remember one instance in particular that 
 capitally illustrates this fact. I was touring the 
 West with King Lear as my feature play and was 
 booked to appear in that noble old character at 
 Butte. Maguire was manager of the theatre. 
 My son Arthur was my advance agent. Just as he 
 was about to leave the town John noticed that no 
 newspaper cuts had been left and asked for them. 
 My son replied that the only stock he had on hand 
 were cuts of "Rinaldo, in The Lion's Mouth," an 
 Italian youth of eighteen; "and they would never
 
 224 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 do for King Lear, who was eighty years of age," 
 said Arthur. "Well, leave me one, anyway," in- 
 sisted Maguire. "What's the use?" said my son. 
 "Tut, tut, leave one, anyway." And my son left 
 him "one, anyway" to quiet the old boy. 
 
 A few days later I was astounded upon picking 
 up the Butte Sunday Miner, to see the Rinaldo cut 
 in the centre of .a big descriptive story of King 
 Lear, and underneath the inscription, "King Lear 
 when a boy." I recognized John's ingenuity, and 
 had a hearty laugh, but when" we met protested 
 that King Lear could never have looked like that. 
 The only satisfaction I got was, "Well, who's to 
 prove it, my bhoy?" 
 
 John Maguire passed away some time ago, 
 mourned by many and none more than by me: but 
 his honest heart and cheery greeting of "Fred, 
 me bhoy, how are ye? Let's go over to the club 
 and have a schmall bottle," still lingers in my 
 memory. 
 
 Our last stop was at Helena, a city with a most 
 romantic history. Originally a surface mining 
 camp known as Last Chance Gulch, from which 
 millions of dollars in gold have been taken, it is 
 now a beautiful city of fine buildings, picturesque 
 homes on the doping mountain side, and is the 
 capital of the State of Montana. 
 
 On returning to New York, I made arrange- 
 ments to resume my annual tours under new man- 
 agement. 
 
 Mr. Henry Aveling was again my leading man 
 and Miss Mittens Willett my leading lady. Later
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 225 
 
 they married and retired and Mr. Clarence Handy- 
 side and Miss Eugenia Blair took their places. 
 
 Four years of itinerancy followed. 
 
 During that period I appeared in nearly every 
 state and territory in the Union, playing in every 
 kind of building from a Grand Opera House to a 
 skating rink, even in an unoccupied store any- 
 where in fact, where a platform could be erected 
 and a performance given. 
 
 My experiences were many and varied. 
 
 We were touring New Mexico. There had 
 been trouble with the Apache Indians and a rising 
 was feared. The citizens throughout the terri- 
 toryit was not then a State were all armed in 
 anticipation of raids, and the towns and their ap- 
 proaches were patrolled. 
 
 Tn Silver City, I played Virginius in a newly 
 built store. The male portion of the audience 
 came armed with rifles, revolvers and belts of 
 cartridges to be in readiness if an alarm should be 
 sounded. No interruption occurred, but at the 
 close of the performance the citizens insisted on 
 providing an armed guard to escort the company 
 to the hotel. 
 
 The next morning an armed guard accompanied 
 the train on the narrow gauge railroad that took 
 us to the main line, which we reached without in- 
 cident but with great relief. 
 
 We continued on the Santa Fe railroad to Ari- 
 zona. In Tucson, the Opera House was built of 
 adobe. It had a stage and some scenery, but no 
 seats. The box sheet was marked like a checker
 
 226 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 board, space was sold in squares and the audience 
 brought their seats with them or sent them in ad- 
 vance. The effect was unique. Every kind of 
 chair and stool was brought into requisition, from 
 an upholstered rocker to a school bench, and as the 
 time for the performance approached, groups of 
 people might be seen coming from different direc- 
 tions carrying stools or chairs as if it were a gen- 
 eral moving day. 
 
 Pigeons in large numbers had made their home 
 in the loft above the stage. Our advent had dis- 
 turbed them, but they came home to roost. The 
 action and dialogue of the play did not affect 
 them, but when the audience applauded, the flap- 
 ping and rustling of hundreds of wings above our 
 heads by the frightened birds sounded like rush- 
 ing water. The effect was somewhat disconcert- 
 ing to the actors, but we became used to it and the 
 play proceeded successfully to its conclusion and 
 the birds were left in peace. 
 
 Returning east on the same tour, we played sev- 
 eral towns in the State of Oregon. 
 
 At Pendelton, several Umatilla Indians were in 
 the gallery. The play was Virginius. The In- 
 dians were apparently interested and were very 
 quiet until the fourth act, where Virginius kills 
 his daughter; then, one of them called out, "Skoo- 
 kum, Virginius, Skookum," and the other Indians 
 took up the cry. The audience applauded, and 
 there was no further demonstration. 
 
 Major Moorhouse, the Indian agent, told me 
 afterward that "Skookum" was the Umatilla
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 227 
 
 equivalent for "good" and that the Indians in- 
 tended it as an expression of their appreciation. 
 
 Bismarck, North Dakota, is located a few miles 
 east of the Missouri River, which at the nearest 
 point is bordered by precipitous cliffs, and on the 
 western side by a long stretch of low lands and 
 marshes as far as Mandam. The marshes afford a 
 prolific breeding place for very aggressive mosqui- 
 toes. 
 
 We played Virginius at Bismarck, in a skating 
 rink illuminated by oil lamps. A western breeze 
 sprang up that lifted the mosquitoes from their 
 nursery and brought them east. Their first stop- 
 ping place was Bismarck, and the brilliantly (?) 
 lighted skating rink their objective point. 
 
 They came in swarms, attacked the exposed 
 arms and necks of the actors, and punctured their 
 fleshing tights, mistaking them for bare skin. 
 The result was a continuous slapping of the points 
 attacked; a smack punctuating almost every sen- 
 tence of the dialogue. 
 
 The body of Dentatus was brought to me on a 
 bier covered with a mantle. The business of the 
 play compelled me to remove the mantle; then, the 
 mosquitoes attacked the corpse with such ferocity 
 that it came to life and piteously begged: "Cover 
 me up, Governor, cover me up, or they'll eat me 
 alive." 
 
 The audience suffered in proportion. The la- 
 dies covered their heads and faces with their veils, 
 the gentlemen wore their hats, inserted their hands
 
 228 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 in their sleeves and masked their faces with their 
 handkerchiefs like burglars or train robbers. 
 
 Our misery did not cease with the performance; 
 the mosquitoes preceded us to the hotel. A light 
 was to invite an influx of them. I managed to find 
 my bed in the dark, but two of the ladies who had 
 been indiscreet enough to light a lamp, were so 
 badly stung by the insects and their faces so 
 swollen, that in the morning they were unable to 
 see until they had resorted to liberal applications 
 of witch hazel and other remedies. 
 
 I have visited Bismarck since, now the impor- 
 tant capital of the State of North Dakota. Fortu- 
 nately the wind was in the other direction and the 
 mosquitoes travelled westward. 
 
 As these incidents recur to my mind I recall an 
 interesting experience that had its inception in an- 
 other part of the country but during the period I 
 am now recording. 
 
 At Delaware, Ohio, there is a Wesleyan College. 
 According to the rules of the institution, the stu- 
 dents were not permitted to attend dramatic en- 
 tertainments at the Opera House; but the rule was 
 not enforced when a Shakespearean or high class 
 play was presented. 
 
 I was announced to play Richard III at Dela- 
 ware. 
 
 Had the students attended without consulting 
 the Faculty, no notice would have been taken ofi 
 the matter; but one of their number went to the 
 President, and specifically asked if the students 
 would be permitted to attend the performance.
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 229 
 
 The President, thus cornered as it were, was com- 
 pelled to answer, "No, the rules of the college must 
 be obeyed." 
 
 In spite of this inhibition, many of the students, 
 disguised with wigs, beards and mustachios, did 
 come to the performance and the fact was duly re- 
 ported to the college authorities. 
 
 At chapel the following morning, being placed 
 upon their honor, the students who had disobeyed 
 the President's decree, admitted their guilt and 
 were punished. The juniors and sophomores were 
 deprived of privileges and the seniors were ex- 
 pelled. 
 
 Among the latter was a student named Guy Pot- 
 ter Benton. 
 
 Some twenty years later I was invited to deliver 
 a course of lectures at Oxford, Ohio, by Dr. Ben- 
 ton, the President of Miami University, who enter- 
 tained me as his guest during my stay. 
 
 At a dinner with the Faculty the President sur- 
 prised me by asking if I knew why I was invited to 
 the University. I replied: "To deliver my lec- 
 tures, I presume." "Yes," returned the Presi- 
 dent, "and to gratify a long deferred revenge. 
 You were the cause of my being expelled from the 
 Wesleyan College at Delaware twenty years ago, 
 and I thought the most Christian revenge I could 
 take would be to invite you to come to my col- 
 lege." 
 
 Dr. Guy Potter Benton then told me the story I 
 have related and detailed his subsequent reinstate- 
 ment and career. The last communication I re-
 
 230 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 ceived from Dr. Benton was from the State Univer- 
 sity, at Burlington, Vermont, of which institution 
 he was the honored President. 
 
 During the period now recorded, I produced 
 two new plays, both of which were successful and 
 I retained them in my repertoire for several sea- 
 sons. 
 
 The first was a Roman tragedy Galba the 
 Gladiator, a free adaptation from Saumet's "Le 
 Gladiateur," by Leonard Outram and Richard A. 
 Purdy. The original play was one of the features 
 of the repertoire of Signor Salvini, on his tour of 
 this country, and was given in Italian. 
 
 My second production was "Gaston Cadol," a 
 romantic drama by Celia Logan, adapted from a 
 French play called Jean D'acier. The leading 
 part bore a strong resemblance to the character of 
 Claude Melnotte in "The Lady of Lyons"; in fact, 
 the critic of the Boston Sunday Courier wittily 
 wrote: "The same pack of cards from which Bul- 
 wer dealt The Lady of Lyons have been shuffled 
 and redealt for Gaston Cadol." 
 
 The verdict of a Boston audience has always 
 been regarded by actors, authors and managers 
 as of the greatest importance. 
 
 I had appeared there as Julian Gray, in "The 
 New Magdalen" with Clara Morris, and achieved 
 a complete success, but in the Fall of '87, I made 
 my first appeal to their critical judgment as a star 
 in a repertoire of classic plays. 
 
 I appeared at the Hollis Street Theatre as Vir- 
 ginius, Galba, Damon and Gaston Cadol. The re-
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 231 
 
 suit was a triumph. The entire press devoted so 
 such space and lavished so much eulogy on my per- 
 formances that my managers (Messrs. Hudson and 
 O'Neil) published the reviews in a pamphlet of 
 twenty-five pages and distributed them over the 
 country. 
 
 I again presume to quote an extract, this time 
 from the Boston Evening Transcript: 
 
 "As has already been said, Mr. Warde achieved a 
 triumph. The audience was inclined at first to be 
 cynical and apathetic; but how marked the change 
 upon the appearance of Virgmius. He laid hold of the 
 sympathies of his hearers instantly, and held them cap- 
 tive to the end." 
 
 I commenced the season of 1888-9 under the 
 management of Mr. Joseph Brooks, with an ex- 
 ceptionally strong company that included Henry 
 Aveling, James F. Dean, Henry Weaver, Jr., Adele 
 Belgarde, Emma Maddern, and that splendid 
 actress, so long with the New York Union Square 
 company, Miss Ida Vernon. 
 
 We opened our season at Brooklyn, New York, 
 with an elaborate production of Galba the Gladi- 
 ator, and later included Virginius, Damon and 
 Pythias, Gaston Cadol and Richard III in our rep- 
 ertoire. 
 
 At Baltimore I produced "William Tell," mak- 
 ing a new arrangement of the play, taking Schil- 
 ler's drama, the opera, and some historical facts 
 for my material. We played Boston and renewed 
 my success of the preceding season.
 
 232 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 Pittsburgh followed; but when the time to com- 
 mence the performance on Monday evening came, 
 the scenery and baggage had not arrived. An ac- 
 cident on the railroad had detained it. Virginius 
 was the play advertised. A large audience had as- 
 sembled which we were loth to disappoint and 
 lose. What was to be done? At length, Mr. 
 Phelps, the acting manager of the theatre, sug- 
 gested that we give the play with the stock scenery 
 in the theatre and in our ordinary street clothes. 
 After some discussion we decided to do this. I 
 called the company together, explained the situa- 
 tion, pointed out the humor of it, urged them to be 
 serious and earnest, apologized to the audience 
 and the play began. 
 
 It was somewhat incongruous to see men and 
 women in modern travelling dress acting as Ro- 
 man citizens and to hear them speaking the 
 declamatory blank verse of Sheridan Knowles; but 
 all of the company complied with my request and 
 acted their parts with the same sincerity and ear- 
 nestness as if they were garbed in the graceful 
 tunic, toga or peplum of the ancient Romans. 
 
 The audience took the performance seriously, 
 applauded at the usual points and seemed deeply 
 interested. 
 
 By the end of the third act the baggage arrived 
 and we arrayed ourselves in Roman costumes, set 
 up appropriate scenery and so brought the per- 
 formance to a conclusion. 
 
 Several friends of mine who had witnessed the 
 play expressed regret that we had not continued
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 233 
 
 the performance in our modern dress. They had 
 found it both unique and interesting. 
 
 From Pittsburgh to Philadelphia at the Acad- 
 emy of Music for two weeks. 
 
 In Philadelphia there are many societies and or- 
 ganizations that by an arrangement with the local 
 managers of the theatres take a large number of 
 tickets at reduced rates and dispose of them to 
 their members. This has the double advantage of 
 increasing the attendance at the theatre and aug- 
 menting the revenues of the societies. 
 
 Under such an arrangement I gave fourteen per- 
 formances to enormous audiences at the historic 
 old building on Broad Street in that city. 
 
 An accidental and delightfully unconventional 
 meeting with Sir Edwin Arnold, the poet, was an 
 interesting incident in Philadelphia. Sir Edwin 
 and Major Pond, his lecture manager, came into 
 the dining room of the Lafayette Hotel, where 
 Mrs. Warde and myself were taking breakfast. 
 Being an old friend, Major Pond brought Sir Ed- 
 win to our table and joined us. A little later 
 George W. Childs, the editor and philanthropist, 
 came in: he also joined our little party, which in- 
 cluded Henry Guy Carleton, the author. 
 
 Sir Edwin Arnold was greatly interested in the 
 care of children and he and Mrs. Warde were soon 
 discussing the subject. 
 
 Mr. Childs, the Major and Sir Edwin were on 
 their way to Camden to visit Walt Whitman, "The 
 Good Grey Poet," who at the time was quite ill at 
 his home there. The party gave me a cordial in-
 
 234 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 vitation to join them which, greatly to my regret, 
 I was compelled to decline, having an important 
 rehearsal I could not postpone or dismiss. 
 
 I was familiar, of course, with the life and works 
 of the author of "The Light of Asia," but had not 
 anticipated the privilege of meeting him. In 
 stature he was under medium height: in appear- 
 ance and costume more like a successful American 
 farmer than a poet. His expression quietly 
 genial, until aroused to interest; then his eyes 
 fairly shone with enthusiasm. His face seemed il- 
 luminated and you felt yourself in the presence of 
 a man of intense magnetism and unlimited imag- 
 ination. 
 
 It was with great reluctance that I rose from the 
 table to go to my rehearsal and left the Poet, the 
 Philanthropist and Major Pond to their interest- 
 ing pilgrimage. 
 
 On January 10, '89, I produced "The Mounte- 
 bank" at the Grand Opera House, St. Louis. 
 
 I had acted in an old play called "Belphegor" 
 some years ago, in England, with Charles Dillon, 
 and had been impressed with its sympathetic hu- 
 man interest and the acting opportunities of the 
 leading character. Several versions of the piece 
 existed; I collected them all and evolved from them 
 the version I produced. 
 
 The play was an instantaneous success, and the 
 part of Belphegor suited me admirably. I played 
 it for many seasons, and to this day I am fre- 
 quently asked: "Mr. Warde, when are you going 
 to give us 'The Mountebank' again?"
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 235 
 
 In the Spring", Mr. Brooks resigned my man- 
 agement. I undertook the direction of my own 
 business affairs, and carried a long and successful 
 season to a satisfactory close. 
 
 "The Mountebank" proving so attractive, I 
 made it the feature of the following season, when 
 it surpassed my expectations in drawing power 
 and satisfaction to the audiences. Miss Adele 
 Belgarde continued in the position of leading lady, 
 which she filled with personal charm and great 
 ability. 
 
 Two other interesting members of my company 
 were: Mrs. Henry Vandenhoff and Mr. Wilfred 
 Clarke. The former was the widow of Henry 
 Vandenhoff, a cadet of a distinguished theatrical 
 family of England; the latter a son of John 
 Sleeper Clarke, the American comedian, and a 
 nephew of Edwin Booth. 
 
 Mrs. Vandenhoff played the "Grand Dames" 
 with the convincing effect of ability and experi- 
 ence and Mr. Clarke demonstrated the inheritance 
 of the comedy talent of his distinguished father.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 The Genesis of the Warde-James Combination. 
 
 I had long entertained an ambition to play the 
 part of Cardinal Wolsey, in Shakespeare's King 
 Henry the Eighth. I recalled the pathetic dig- 
 nity of the performance of the Cardinal by Samuel 
 Phelps in the early days of my dramatic experi- 
 ence in England, and later I had seen Mr. George 
 Vandenhoff and John McCullough in the part. 
 
 I learned that Mrs. D. P. Bowers, an actress of 
 distinction and long experience, was at liberty, 
 and after brief negotiation succeeded in engaging 
 her as a co-star, to play the part of Queen Kather- 
 ine and other prominent characters in my reper- 
 toire. 
 
 The play was given quite an elaborate produc- 
 tion and the cast of principals, which I append, 
 was most efficient. 
 
 King Henry VIII Mr. B. C. Turner 
 
 Cardinal Wolsey Frederick Warde 
 
 Duke of Buckingham Chas. D. Herman 
 
 Duke of Norfolk H. C. Barton 
 
 Cromwell Harry Leighton 
 
 Queen Katherine Mrs. D. P. Bowers 
 
 Anne Boleyn Miss Catherine Coggswell 
 
 236
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 237 
 
 I achieved my object in the production of the 
 play and my performance of Cardinal Wolsey was 
 well received, but Henry VIII is rather a pano- 
 rama of historical incidents than a drama, and 
 while the play was received with interest and the 
 acting of Mrs. Bowers and myself highly praised 
 by the press, it failed to arouse sufficient enthusi- 
 asm to fill out our engagements in the large cities. 
 I was, therefore, compelled to select a repertoire 
 in which we both could appear to more advantage. 
 
 Macbeth, The Merchant of Venice, Galba the 
 Gladiator and Damon and Pythias were the plays 
 selected, and they proved very attractive. 
 
 Mrs. Bowers' performances were remarkable. 
 I liked her Lady Macbeth better than Miss Gush- 
 man's. It was less domineering, more womanly. 
 A wife who loved her husband, gloried in his 
 strength, knew his weakness, and advanced her 
 arguments with a foreknowledge that would con- 
 vince. 
 
 I have always contended that Lady Macbeth 's 
 ambition was not for herself but for her husband. 
 There is not in the part a single reference to her 
 own advantage; it is always "Our"; "Our nights 
 and days to come," "Our desire," etc., and I hold 
 that she deliberately sacrificed her peace on earth 
 and hope of the hereafter, for the sake of the man 
 she loved. Such was the Lady Macbeth Mrs. 
 Bowers presented. 
 
 It would seem a matter of some difficulty for a 
 lady sixty-four years of age to give a satisfactory 
 presentation of Portia, in "The Merchant of Ven-
 
 238 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 ice," but Mrs. Bowers' skill in make-up, buoyancy 
 of carriage, faultless reading and dramatic instinct 
 together with personal distinction, completely dis- 
 guised all evidence of physical maturity and you 
 saw only the living embodiment of the young and 
 fair "Mistress of Belmont." 
 
 Mrs. Bowers bore admirably the fatigues and 
 discomforts of a tour that extended from coast to 
 coast, missed but one performance through a tem- 
 porary indisposition, and gave to me and the pub- 
 lic the loyal service of a conscientious artist. My 
 memory of Mrs. D. P. Bowers and she is now but 
 a memory to all of us is that of an estimable lady 
 and a splendid actress. 
 
 Prior to the opening of the season, a young Eng- 
 lishman, named Walter E. Bentley, applied to me 
 for an engagement. His appearance was not im- 
 pressive, but I was influenced by his apparent sin- 
 cerity and engaged him for small parts. Some 
 time after the season had begun, my business man- 
 ager complained to me that Mr. Bentley was carry- 
 ing baggage far in excess of the usual allowance 
 and that the baggage agents objected to handling 
 his heavy trunk. He had protested to Mr. Bent- 
 ley without satisfaction and asked me to take the 
 matter up with him. 
 
 I sent for Bentley and inquired the necessity for 
 such heavy baggage. He said he was carrying 
 books. "Books?' ' I asked. ' 'Why, can't you get 
 the books you require from the public libraries in 
 the towns we visit? " ' ' No, " he replied. ' ' They 
 are works I am studying preparatory to entering;
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 239 
 
 a theological seminary, with a view to becoming a 
 minister of the Episcopal Church." I became 
 deeply interested, discussed the subject of his stud- 
 ies with him and arranged a division of his bag- 
 gage that avoided any further trouble in that di- 
 rection. 
 
 Mr. Bentley did enter the New York Theological 
 Seminary, was subsequently ordained a minister 
 and after serving as curate to several prominent 
 clergymen, became pastor of a small parish in 
 New York State, and finally rector of the Church 
 of the Ascension in the eastern district of Brook- 
 lyn, where he still officiates. 
 
 Mr. Bentley never lost his love of the stage and 
 the drama. His great ambition was to bring into 
 closer relations the church and the stage. To that 
 end he enlisted the co-operation of the late Bishop 
 Potter, of New York, in the project, and in con- 
 junction with that broad and liberal churchman, 
 founded the Actor's Church Alliance, an organ- 
 ization that is now in active operation and has 
 chapters and chaplains in almost all of the cities 
 and larger towns in the United States. 
 
 As a matter of fact, four former members of my 
 companies became ministers of the Episcopal 
 Church: Rev. R. E. Lee Tanner, deceased; Rev. 
 Wilson Tanner, of Homer, N. Y,; Rev. Lambert, 
 of Syracuse, N. Y., and Rev. Walter Bentley, of 
 Brooklyn, N. Y., who have all acknowledged their 
 dramatic training and experience has been of the 
 greatest service to them in their later calling. 
 
 Through the good offices of a mutual friend, I
 
 240 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 was introduced to Henry Guy Carleton, a journal- 
 ist of note and former editor of "Life." 
 
 Mr. Carleton suffered from the worst impedi- 
 ment of speech I ever heard. In the pronuncia- 
 tion of a consonant he commenced with a stutter, 
 followed it with a gurgle and concluded with an 
 eructation that produced the necessary sound. 
 He was not at all sensitive to his affliction but hu- 
 morously declared: "People say I stutter. I 
 don't. I only punctuate peculiarly." 
 
 I found to my surprise this condition to be con- 
 tagious. 
 
 Carleton spent some three weeks as my guest at 
 my country home; before the end of the first week 
 my entire family was stuttering. It was only a 
 slight stutter and fortunately temporary, but it 
 was in evidence. 
 
 Carleton had a remarkable faculty for the ac- 
 quisition of knowledge. Without calling him a 
 learned man, I have met few men better informed 
 on general subjects. 
 
 Carleton had written a play called "The Lion's 
 Mouth," which he read to me. In spite of the vocal 
 difficulties of his reading, I was greatly pleased 
 with it and contracted for its production. 
 
 It was an Italian romance of the sixteenth cen- 
 tury, written in fine English blank verse, ad- 
 mirable in construction and redolent with poetic 
 imagination. 
 
 I produced it at the California Theatre, San 
 Francisco, on March 16, 1891. It was an un- 
 qualified success, and the next morning the San
 
 Ernest Warde as the Fool in "King Lear"
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 241 
 
 Francisco Chronicle said in the first paragraph of 
 a lengthy review: 
 
 "Considering the fact that Henry Guy Carleton is an 
 American, that he has been trying vainly for some years 
 to have his work produced in the east, and that it is a 
 blank verse play, the reception given to 'The Lion's 
 Mouth' last night at the California Theatre by a 
 crowded house may be set down as a triumph." 
 
 My acting and that of the whole company was 
 also highly commended by the entire press of the 
 city. 
 
 I found the dramatic merit, interest and novelty 
 of "The Lion's Mouth" sufficiently attractive to 
 make it the feature of the following season and 
 have retained it in my repertoire for many years. 
 
 In the spring of 1901, I played an engagement 
 at the National Theatre, Washington, D. C. On 
 the Friday of the week, May 15th (I remember the 
 date as it is a family birthday), I called at the 
 White House to pay my respects to President Mc- 
 Kinley, whom I had known for many years and 
 had met frequently in terms of cordial friendship 
 when he was in Congress from the State of Ohio. 
 
 The President gave me a hearty welcome, greet- 
 ing me with the salutation: "Well, you apostle 
 of the west," referring to my enthusiasm over 
 that rapidly developing section of our country. 
 
 We talked of old times, old friends and finally 
 of Shakespeare. He asked me what plays I was 
 presenting on my current tour. I named them and
 
 242 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 amongst them Shakespeare's play of King Henry 
 the Eighth. 
 
 The President ' expressed the greatest disap- 
 pointment that his engagements would not permit 
 him to witness a performance of that play, telling 
 me he had found in the text of Henry VIII a pas- 
 sage that he had adopted as the motto of his life. 
 
 I inquired what particular passage he referred 
 to. He recited the following lines from Cardinal 
 Wolsey's parting advice to Cromwell in the third 
 act: "Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy coun- 
 try's, thy God's and truth's." 
 
 I followed with the lines of the text, slightly 
 paraphrasing them: "Then, if thou fall'st, 0, Mr. 
 President, thou fall'st a blessed martyr." 
 
 The President smiled and said: "Yes, those 
 are the words." 
 
 I left him and never saw him again. 
 
 The following summer the President made the 
 trip to the Pacific Coast that I had so long advo- 
 cated. As I had foretold, it was a triumphal 
 march that was only curtailed by the illness of 
 Mrs. McKinley. On the President's return to the 
 east, he visited the Exposition at Buffalo, New 
 York, where he was shot by an assassin and died a 
 few days afterward. 
 
 When the news of President McKinley 's death 
 reached me, I recalled our interview and conversa- 
 tion only four months before, and reviewing the 
 facts of his life and the conditions of his death, I 
 think it must be conceded that he had been true to
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 243 
 
 the motto he had chosen; that all the ends he had 
 aimed at had been for his country, his God and 
 truth. His name and memory will live in the 
 minds and hearts of his surviving countrymen as 
 "A blessed martyr." 
 
 I made my annual visit to Richmond, Va., in the 
 Fall. In my room in the old Ballard-Exchange 
 Hotel I was interrupted by a colored servant, who 
 announced that two gentlemen desired to see me 
 in the office. Being busily engaged with cor- 
 respondence, I asked for their cards.or names. The 
 man replied: "Dey didn't give no name nor 
 keard, but I specs you had better come down and 
 see 'em." Noticing his disturbed condition, I fol- 
 "owed him to the office. Two men in plain clcthes 
 approached and inquired if I was Mr. Warde. I 
 answered, "Yes." They exhibited their shields 
 and told me to accompany them, as I was under ar- 
 rest. To my astonished inquiry as to where and 
 for what offence, they replied that I would know 
 in good time. They then escorted me to the Gov- 
 ernor's Mansion, opposite the Capitol, and 
 knocked at the door. It was opened; they directed 
 me to enter; I did so. They left me and I was 
 shown into a reception room. In a few minutes 
 Mrs. Lee, the wife of the Governor, came in, 
 greeted me cordially, and chatted on general sub- 
 jects; still I was in the dark as to my restraint. 
 Then General Fitzhugh Lee, the Governor, came in 
 from the Capitol, and laughing heartily, ex- 
 claimed: "So you are here, are you? You're a 
 nice fellow! You've been in town two hours and
 
 244 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 didn't come to see me, so I had two of my officers 
 arrest you." 
 
 A delightful family luncheon delayed my cor- 
 respondence still further, but left the memory of a 
 pleasing episode and happy association with one 
 of the distinguished soldiers and men of the coun- 
 try and his delightful family. 
 
 The sudden death of Lawrence Barrett brought 
 the very successful association of Booth and Bar- 
 rett to a close. 
 
 I made a proposition to Mr. Booth to resume his 
 tour the following season with the support of Mrs. 
 Bowers, myself and a very popular leading lady; 
 in reply to which Mr. Booth wrote me: 
 
 "Narragansett Pier, 
 
 "Sept. 7th, 1891. 
 "My dear Mr. Warde: 
 
 "Your offer is very tempting 1 , but unfortunately I am 
 not free to entertain it; even were I able to resume 
 work this season which I do not contemplate attempt- 
 ing for at least a year. 
 
 "With sincere wishes for your continued success, 
 
 "I am truly yours, 
 "Edwin Booth." 
 
 Mr. Louis James and Miss Marie Wainwright 
 had been starring together for several years; but 
 an unfortunate estrangement had separated them, 
 and Mr. James was playing in a melodrama called 
 "The Soudan." It occurred to me that an asso-
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 245 
 
 elation with such an actor, and such a man as I 
 knew Louis James to be, would be very congenial 
 and give strength and dignity to any plays we 
 might decide to give. 
 
 I opened negotiations with him, and after a brief 
 correspondence I engaged him on mutually satis- 
 factory terms for a period of three years. Mr. 
 James' final telegram closing the matter, singu- 
 larly characteristic of the man, was in the follow- 
 ing words: "All right. We double. Toil and 
 trouble. Yours, Louis," and that was the only 
 contract between us. 
 
 In the meantime Edwin Booth had decided to 
 permanently retire, and I purchased from the ex- 
 ecutors of the Barrett estate the elaborate scenic 
 equipment, properties and costumes used by the 
 Booth and Barrett Combination. 
 
 I also secured the rights to George Boker's 
 great play, Francesca da Rimini, in which Mr. 
 James had made such a profound impression as 
 Pepe the Jester. 
 
 I engaged quite a large and efficient company. 
 Charles D. Herman and Howard Kyle were the 
 leading men, and Miss Edythe Chapman, a beau- 
 tiful woman and a splendid actress, was the lead- 
 ing lady, remaining with us for three years. 
 
 Thus equipped and with a repertoire that in- 
 cluded Julius Caesar, Othello, The Lion's Mouth, 
 and Francesca da Rimini, we opened our season 
 at the New National Theatre, Washington, D. C., 
 on Sept. 12, 1892, and for three consecutive sea- 
 sons toured the country, making some additions to
 
 246 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 the repertoire of plays, producing one new one, 
 meeting with substantial patronage and receiving 
 the most flattering evidence of appreciation from 
 our audiences. 
 
 Not a single note of discord marred the happy 
 relations between Mr. James and myself during 
 that period. In business he was loyalty itself; 
 and nothing could be more delightful than the 
 complete comradeship that existed between us. 
 
 Louis James was a splendid actor, but seldom 
 took life, his profession or himself seriously. He 
 had a keen sense of humor that served as a pallia- 
 tive for care, but it sometimes marred the effect 
 of his best professional work and militated against 
 his personal dignity. 
 
 At heart he was a soldier, and I am inclined to 
 think the loss of the opportunity to enter the mili- 
 tary service when it offered was the disappoint- 
 ment of his life. 
 
 Louis James was born in Illinois. His father 
 was Probate Judge of the county. In his youth 
 he studied and became very proficient in Upton's 
 Tactics, then the standard authority on the manual 
 of arms. It was at the period of unrest prior to 
 the Civil War between the North and South. Mili- 
 tary companies were formed in the various town- 
 ships and young James was called upon, on ac- 
 count of his proficiency, to instruct them in their 
 drilling, etc. War was declared. President Lin- 
 coln issued his call for men. Several of the com- 
 panies were mobilized into a regiment and Louis 
 James was elected Major. The regiment was or-
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 247 
 
 dered to the front but Louis was under the legal 
 age and his father would not permit him to go. It 
 was a bitter disappointment and made more so by 
 the fact that the Lieutenant- Colonel of the regi- 
 ment was killed in the first engagement and the 
 Major who had taken Louis' place was promoted 
 to that rank. 
 
 Louis remained at home until he became of age, 
 then enlisted as a private in a regiment of New 
 York artillery, saw considerable active service, 
 and was promoted to the rank of Sergeant. At 
 the close of the war he joined Ellsworth's Zouaves 
 and toured the country with that organization, 
 giving exhibition drills. The Zouave company 
 disbanded at Baltimore and Louis James obtained 
 an engagement at Ford's Grand Opera House in 
 that city and became an actor. 
 
 He never lost his interest in the army or in mili- 
 tary matters. His greatest pleasure was a visit 
 to an army post to see a dress parade. During the 
 Boer war, he carried with him a set of military 
 maps of South Africa, and on a table in his room 
 would follow the movements and activities of the 
 contending forces with colored pins, as they were 
 reported in the press dispatches. 
 
 Mr. James' humor sometimes took the form of 
 practical jesting on the stage, which proved em- 
 barrassing to the other actors. He played Brutus 
 in Julius Caesar, and played it admirably. I usu- 
 ally played Marc Antony, but one season I found 
 the cast to be more effective by playing Cassius. 
 Near the close of the first act, Brutus, after a long
 
 248 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 dialogue with Cassius, clasps his hand and takes 
 his leave with a parting speech slightly transposed 
 from the text, commencing: 
 
 "Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this: 
 Brutus had rather be a villager, &c." 
 
 Before the scene began James would search the 
 stage and property room for some small article 
 that he could conceal in his toga, and when he 
 reached the words: "Chew upon this," would 
 leave it in my hand. Sometimes it would be a 
 stage screw, an apple, a nail, or a tomato, even a 
 match-box, anything he could find. I had to hold 
 it and keep it concealed while I spoke the soliloquy 
 that concluded the act. It disconcerted me at 
 first, but I grew so accustomed to it that it became 
 merely a question: What will he give me to chew 
 on to-night? 
 
 When playing Othello, standing by the bedside 
 of Desdemona in the last act, apostrophising her 
 sleeping form, he took some of the dark color of 
 his make-up and marked a moustache and imperial 
 on the face of the sleeping figure. It was un- 
 noticed by the audience, but later, as other actors 
 came upon the scene and saw the face of Desde- 
 mona lying on the pillow wreathed in golden hair 
 but disfigured by apparent hirsute tufts over her 
 mouth and chin, they were convulsed with laugh- 
 ter and the effect of a great tragic scene was de- 
 stroyed. 
 
 In the course of our second season I made quite
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 249 
 
 an elaborate production of the first part of Shakes- 
 peare 's "King Henry the Fourth." Beverley 
 Turner played the King, Guy Lindsay Hotspur, 
 Edythe Chapman Lady Percy, myself Prince Hal 
 and Louis James, Falstaff. 
 
 How James did revel in the humor of the old, 
 fat Knight. He had a capital make-up, a trifle 
 too neat and clean perhaps, but the ready wit, the 
 fun and the merriment of the old reprobate were 
 delightfully portrayed. He infused an exhilara- 
 tion in us all by the spirit with which he invested 
 his part. The unctuous humor with which he de- 
 livered the soliloquy on honor was perfect. I can 
 see his face and hear his voice as I repeat the 
 words: 
 
 "Well, 'tis no matter; honour pricks me on. Yea, 
 but how if honour prick me off when I come on? how 
 then? Can honour set to a leg? no; or an arm? no; or 
 take away the grief of a wound? no. Honour hath no 
 skill in surgery, then? no. What is honour? a word. 
 What is in that word honour? what is that honour? air. 
 A. trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o' 
 Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no. 
 'Tis insensible, then? yea, to the dead. But will it not 
 live with the living? no. Why? detraction will not 
 suffer it. Therefore I'll none of it. Honour is a mere 
 scutcheon: and so ends my catechism." 
 
 William Greer Harrison was a prominent busi- 
 ness man of San Francisco, president of the 
 Olympic, and an active member of the Bohemian
 
 250 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 Club. Mr. Harrison had considerable literary 
 ability, had written a play called "The Prince of 
 Ulster," for that splendid actor, James O'Neill, 
 and had arranged several local pageants and spec- 
 tacles. 
 
 Discussing dramatic matters one evening in the 
 Bohemian Club, Harrison said: "Warde, I should 
 Hike to write a play for you." I replied: "AIL 
 right, do it." He asked: "What subject?" 
 "Robin Hood," I answered; "make it in four acts, 
 locate all of the scenes in Sherwood Forest, and 
 represent the four seasons." "I'll do it," con- 
 cluded Harrison. 
 
 This conversation occurred in the latter part of 
 April and by the end of August the complete man- 
 uscript of "Runnymede" was in my hands. Mr. 
 Harrison had followed my suggestions and the 
 result was an historical romance, poetically ex- 
 pressed and affording an opportunity for a beauti- 
 ful sylvan setting. 
 
 I accepted the play. Solly Walter, a distin- 
 guished artist of San Francisco, designed the 
 scenery and costumes and Dr. Humphrey Stewart 
 composed the incidental music. 
 
 Being essentially a San Francisco production, 
 I gave the first performance of "Runnymede" at 
 the California Theatre in that city on Feb. 18, 
 1895. - 
 
 The cast included Louis James as Friar Tuck, 
 Walter Walker as Richard Cceur de Lion, Guy 
 Lindsay as King John, Brig-ham Royce as Little- 
 John, Beverley Turner as Bishop Langton, Edythe
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 251 
 
 Chapman as Maid Marian, Fanny Bowman as 
 Marjorie, and of course I played Robin Hood. 
 
 The occasion was a social event in San Fran- 
 cisco, the house was packed and the play and the 
 acting met with every mark of appreciation. The 
 press notices were all satisfactory, and after a 
 week's run, which concluded our San Francisco 
 engagement, I put the play and the production in 
 reserve for the following season.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 King Lear. 
 
 At the close of our third season and the termina- 
 tion of our contract Mr. James thought that his 
 interest and prospects would be better accom- 
 plished alone; and the very happy association of 
 the past three years came to an end. 
 
 Our final performance was Julius Caesar, the 
 same play that had inaugurated our alliance, and 
 was given at the Schiller Theatre, in Chicago, May 
 18, 1895. 
 
 We parted the best of friends and with sincere 
 good wishes. 
 
 The Chicago Inter-Ocean of the following morn- 
 ing recorded the circumstances, the quoted lines 
 accurately expressing our mutual sentiments: 
 
 "Frederick Warde and Louis James made their final 
 appearance as joint stars last evening on the stage of 
 the Schiller in 'Julius Caesar/ the event calling out a 
 large and appreciative audience. Histrionically the per- 
 formance was one of unusual power and brilliancy and 
 found enthusiastic favor with the audience. The speech 
 of Mr. James as Brutus had rare pathos. 'Forever and 
 forever farewell, Cassius. If we do meet again, we shall 
 smile. If not, why, then this parting was well made.' 
 Mr. Warde as Antony was singularly moving and pa- 
 
 252
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 253 
 
 thetic at the side of his companion in arms, with the 
 final sentiment, 'This was the noblest Roman of them 
 all.' " 
 
 As a matter of interest I append a table pre- 
 pared by my stage-manager, of the length of the 
 season, the cities visited, the plays and the num- 
 ber of performances given. 
 
 Length of season 34 Weeks 
 
 Number of cities visited 86 " 
 
 Number of performances given 246 " 
 
 Matinees (included in above) 39 " 
 
 Henry IV, performed. 98 Times 
 
 Francesca da Rimini 33 ' ' 
 
 Julius Caesar 34 " 
 
 Othello 23 " 
 
 Richard m 21 " 
 
 The Lion's Mouth 14 " 
 
 Richelieu 14 " 
 
 Runnymede 9 " 
 
 I opened my next season at the Columbia The- 
 atre, Brooklyn, with Runnymede, but found that 
 it did not attract or interest the public and was 
 therefore compelled to fall back on my old reper- 
 toire of Virginius, The Mountebank, The Lion's 
 Mouth and Damon and Pythias, which succeeded 
 remarkably well. 
 
 In February '96, I achieved a long-cherished 
 desire by producing Shakespeare's tragedy of 
 King Lear, and playing the part that for three 
 centuries has been the aspirations of the genius of 
 the stage.
 
 254 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 For several seasons friends had suggested this 
 character to me, and the suggestion coincided with 
 my ambition; but up to that time I did not feel 
 that I had yet mastered the complex emotions of 
 what I consider to be the greatest character that 
 Shakespeare has drawn. 
 
 Certain personal experiences, however, had 
 made me realize the relations between a parent 
 and his adult children: the period when the judg- 
 ment of the parent and the child may differ, and 
 in spite of paternal and filial affection must be 
 considered, and then I felt that I could better 
 comprehend the conditions that existed between 
 King Lear and his daughters. 
 
 With that understanding I approached the 
 character, and with, I hope, pardonable pride and 
 satisfaction I may say, achieved a most gratifying 
 success. I had prepared a substantially good pro- 
 duction of the tragedy, with new scenery and cos- 
 tumes. My master carpenter and the electrician 
 designed and perfected some admirable effects for 
 the storm scene, the company was efficient and 
 altogether it was a most satisfactory production. 
 
 Of my performance of Lear, the Salt Lake Her- 
 ald said in a lengthy review of the production: 
 
 "Mr. Warde's achievement was marvelous. The cru- 
 cial test is, of course, the great curse scene, and in this 
 he rose to great heights. The mad scenes were not less 
 pathetic and powerful, and throughout Warde gave 
 evidence of being entirely able to cope with the great 
 character he has added to his repertoire."
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 255 
 
 The other papers were equally, and some even 
 more enthusiastic over the performance. This 
 was the more gratifying to me as Salt Lake City 
 had for years been an important dramatic centre. 
 
 In the early days the Mormon settlers had built 
 the fine old Salt Lake Theatre, the materials for 
 which, it is said, were brought across the plains 
 in ox-carts, and which still stands a monument to 
 their appreciation of the drama. For many years 
 these early settlers supported and encouraged a 
 fine stock company that gave regular perform- 
 ances of standard drama under able direction, and 
 several of our popular actors obtained their early 
 training there. 
 
 To-day, the best amateur dramatic and musical 
 society in the United States is to be found in Salt 
 Lake City. It is composed mainly of members of 
 the Mormon Church, some of them prominent in 
 business and financial circles, who give several 
 performances during the season, not only in Salt 
 Lake but in other cities in the State of Utah. In 
 fact, in no part of this country is the drama more 
 liberally patronized and intelligently appreciated 
 than in the valley of the Great Salt Lake. 
 
 The success of King Lear in Salt Lake City was 
 repeated in Los Angeles, San Francisco, Sacra- 
 mento and Portland, Oregon. 
 
 In the last named city a most elaborate dinner 
 was tendered me by Mr. Frederick V. Holman, at 
 the Arlington Club. Mr. Holman, a student of 
 Shakespeare and a great lover of the drama, was 
 a friend of many years' standing, and one of the
 
 256 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 first to suggest my taking up the character of 
 King Lear. 
 
 The Menu, a pamphlet illuminated and bound in 
 parchment, was most unique and the quotations 
 so apt and ingenious that I think the reproduction 
 will be found interesting. 
 
 MENU 
 
 of a Dinner given to 
 Mr. FREDERICK WARDE 
 
 by 
 Mr. Frederick V. Holman 
 
 at 
 The Arlington Club, Portland, Oregon, 
 
 March 29, 1896, 
 
 In honor of the first performance by Mr. Warde, in 
 Portland, 
 
 of 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 "Well, sir, I'll bring you to our master, Lear." 
 
 Amontillado Sherry and Angosturo Bitters. 
 "You we first seize on." Act n, Scene I. 
 
 Bhoalwater Bay Oysters. 
 'Canst thou tell how an oyster makes his shell." Act 
 
 I, Scene V. 
 
 Schloss Johannisberger, 1855. 
 1 ' Ay, every inch a King. ' ' Act IV, Scene VI. 
 
 Consomme Printanier. 
 'With harlooks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers,
 
 Louis James as Calabau in "The Tempest'
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 257 
 
 Darnel, and all the idle weeds, that grow 
 In our sustaining corn. ' ' Act IV, Scene IV. 
 
 Musigny Vougeot, 1874. 
 "Come, Noble Burgundy." Act I, Scene I. 
 
 Crawfish a la Bordelaise. 
 "The body's delicate." Act III, Scene IV. 
 
 Musigny Vougeot, 1874. 
 
 'Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire 
 On flickering Phoebus' front." 
 
 Terrapin a la Maryland. 
 "You should be ruled and led by some discretion." Act 
 
 II, Scene III. 
 
 Musigny Vougeot, 1874. 
 
 "Peace be with Burgundy." Act I, Scene I. 
 
 Sweetbreads Perigueux, 
 
 Asparagus au Gratin. 
 
 "The art of our necessities is strange." Act in, 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 Chauvenet, Club Imperial Brut, 1884. 
 
 'If I like thee no worse after dinner, I will not part 
 
 from thee." Act I, Scene IV. 
 
 Roman Punch. 
 "Tom's a-cold." Act III, Scene IV. 
 
 Saddle of Mutton. Green Peas. 
 "Better than thou, yourself." Act n, Scene I. 
 
 Chauvenet, Brut, 1884. 
 
 'A royal nobleness; I must embrace thee." Act V, 
 Scene III.
 
 258 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 Lettuce Salad. 
 "Striving to better, oft we mar what's well." Act I, 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 Olives, Celery, Roquefort and Sierra Cheese. 
 
 "Whereof, perchance, these are but furnishings." Act 
 
 III, Scene I. 
 
 Omelette Souffle. 
 "Do it carefully." Act I, Scene 1 
 
 Chateau Yquem, 1885. 
 "Here I stand your slave. ' ' Act III, Scene II. 
 
 Liqueurs, Brandy, Coffee. 
 
 Cigars, Cigarettes. 
 'And tell old tales and laugh." Act V, Scene II. 
 
 "Fairies and gods prosper it with thee." Act IV, 
 Scene V. 
 
 King Lear was the feature for the balance of 
 the current and the following seasons. I grew to 
 love the character of the old King, and greatly 
 enjoyed the exhilaration of its performance; par- 
 ticularly during the last season when the Fool 
 was played by my son, Earnest, who realized to 
 me the poet's conception of that much misunder- 
 stood character and gave it the keen satire, the 
 helpless sympathy, the voluntary suffering and 
 the exquisite tenderness that is combined in the 
 part. 
 
 In spite of the appreciation of King Lear, I 
 found at this time that the taste of the general
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 259 
 
 public inclined to a lighter form of drama; that 
 modern progress, science and invention necessi- 
 tated new methods, not only of dramatic writing 
 and construction, but in presentation. That ideals 
 of the past and poetic expression must give way, 
 if not entirely, to plays of contemporaneous inter- 
 est, at least to a more direct appeal to modern 
 ideas. That metaphor and simile must be re- 
 placed by language more simple and matter of 
 fact. 
 
 I found the polished periods of the writers of 
 the early part v of the last century received with 
 smiles and the polysyllabic exaggeration in the 
 fclank verse of the still earlier dramatic poets 
 openly laughed at. 
 
 The age of materiality was approaching and 
 however lofty the sentiment or intense the emo- 
 tion, it must be expressed in terms that could be 
 readily understood or the acting, however perfect, 
 would lose much of its effect. 
 
 With these conditions in view, I approached Mr. 
 W. D. Eaton, of Chicago, a dramatic writer and a 
 master of modern English, to write for me or 
 suggest a romantic play that would conform to 
 these conditions. 
 
 Romance though dormant is still attractive, but 
 the knight errant and wandering troubadour must 
 have some more definite purpose than moonlight 
 serenades and random chivalry. Mr. Eaton sug- 
 gested Benjamin D 'Israeli's story, "The Rise of 
 Iskander."
 
 260 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 I reread it and found it admirably adapted for 
 dramatic purposes. Mr. Eaton completed the 
 adaptation and called it "Iskander." I gave it 
 an elaborate setting and rehearsed it carefully, but 
 a series of unfortunate circumstances delayed its 
 production, which was finally made at Lancaster, 
 Pa., on October 14, 1897. 
 
 The part of Iskander, Prince of Epirus, seemed 
 especially suited to me; the supporting cast was 
 excellent and included William Redmond, a fine 
 impressive actor; Charles D. Herman, my leading 
 man for many years; B. W. Wallace, an admirable 
 comedian, and Miss Beatrice Lieb, in the leading 
 parts. But the play was not successful. 
 
 Mr. Eaton, a practical student of the drama for 
 many years, had constructed something splendid 
 that appeared to me, to my literary and profes- 
 sional friends and to all of the company, to have 
 every essential for popular interest. Time, money, 
 research and study had been lavishly given to its 
 accurate and effective presentation. A very effi- 
 cient company had acted their parts with earnest- 
 ness and ability. The public said it was a very 
 good play but , and but was the rock on 
 which Iskander was wrecked. It was another in- 
 stance of the fact that the only sure test of the 
 approval of a play is a public performance. 
 
 I am reminded of an incident reported in the 
 experience of the late Mr. A. M. Palmer, when 
 he was the manager of the Union Square Theatre, 
 New York. He had produced a play that was a 
 flat failure. A friend said to him: "I am sur-
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 261 
 
 prised that a man of your experience, culture and 
 intelligence should have accepted such a play. 
 Even if its reading interested you, surely the re- 
 hearsals must have shown you how worthless it 
 was." To which Mr. Palmer replied: "If you can 
 find me a human being who can, by reading a 
 manuscript play, watching or taking part in the 
 rehearsals, tell me positively whether it will be a 
 success or failure, I am willing to guarantee that 
 individual an income of fifty thousand dollars a 
 year as long as I remain in management." 
 
 Had I been wise I should have at once with- 
 drawn the play, but I liked the part of Iskander, 
 I believed the piece had possibilities, and I was 
 loath to acknowledge a failure; so we amended, 
 curtailed, reconstructed and patched up the manu- 
 script in the hope of final success; but all to no 
 purpose. After struggling along for nearly three 
 months I was compelled to close the season, which 
 I did in Chicago, and having no material in re- 
 serve, disbanded the company. 
 
 During the period of inactivity that followed 
 the closing of Iskander, I remained in Chicago, 
 staying at the Auditorium Hotel. Joseph Mur- 
 phy, the Irish comedian, was a guest there at the 
 same time. 
 
 Joe, though wealthy, had the reputation of be- 
 ing very penurious, but I found him an entertain- 
 ing pleasant companion, and always ready to meet 
 his share of the evening's entertainment. He had 
 known want and privation, and experience had
 
 262 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 taught him prudence, with resulting competence 
 and comfort. 
 
 Angling was his favorite pastime. A five-ounce 
 rod, a reel and a book of flies on a trout stream 
 was the height of his enjoyment, and as I enjoyed 
 the same sport we had much in common. 
 
 We would meet in the smoking room in the 
 evening and exchange experiences. Mine covered 
 Great Britain principally, but Joe had travelled 
 in Australia and spent much time in California, 
 in fact his early life had been passed in that state, 
 'at the time of the gold excitement in the early; 
 fifties. 
 
 By trade, Joseph Murphy was a blacksmith, but 
 he could sing a good song, dance a jig and play the 
 snare drum, three accomplishments that induced 
 him to say farewell to the anvil and join an itin- 
 erant minstrel show that was in want of attrac- 
 tions. Joe made good and for a time all went 
 well, but defections from the company, the vary- 
 ing fortunes of the camps and lack of novelty 
 brought bad business, and finally dissolution; un- 
 til finally, after many vicissitudes, Joe found him- 
 self in Sacramento without an engagement, lodg- 
 ing or money and in much want of food. 
 
 Dejectedly walking the main street one evening 
 he stopped at the corner where the Golden Eagle 
 Hotel now stands, to allow a rapidly driven car- 
 riage to pass. Joe was close to the curb, and in 
 his 'weakened condition the rapid motion of the 
 hack caused him to stagger and fall. As he strug- 
 gled to his feet, his right hand struck a coin; he
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 263 
 
 grasped it, took it to the light and found it to be 
 a twenty-dollar gold piece. "When I realized my 
 good fortune," said Joe, "then and there I swore 
 I would never again be without a dollar as long 
 as I should live," and continued he, ' 'I never have 
 been." 
 
 Joe's first investment with his new-found wealth 
 was a meal; the best a restaurant could furnish 
 a good steak, fried potatoes and coffee, rare 
 luxuries at the best of times, but to that hungry 
 boy! a royal feast. 
 
 After the meal came a bed and rest, and, oh! 
 joy unknown for so long: rest on a full stomach. 
 
 Joe took a bed in a rooming house; but after so 
 long a fast his weak stomach could not assimilate 
 such a heavy meal. Sleep would not come, nor 
 would his internal discomfort permit him to lie 
 down; so poor Joe had to walk the streets again 
 until his food was in some degree digested. 
 
 The night life of the city was in the saloons 
 and gambling houses, located on the street by the 
 side of and above the levee of the Sacramento 
 River, whose waters rise and fall with the tide. 
 
 These places were all brilliantly lighted and 
 usually thronged with patrons. Thither Joe 
 wended his way, not for the night life but the cool 
 air by the river side. 
 
 As he walked along the levee he noticed, what 
 at first seemed to be a bundle lying half submerged 
 in the gently rising tide. He approached and 
 found it to be the body of a comparatively well- 
 dressed man. He tried to drag it up the bank
 
 264 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 out of the water, but his strength was unequal to 
 the task, and he ran to the nearest saloon. Aid 
 was quickly found and the apparently lifeless body 
 was carried into the saloon. 
 
 Restoratives were applied, brandy poured into 
 not unwilling lips, the body roughly shaken and it 
 came to life, opened its eyes looked round with 
 maudlin indignation and demanded: "Who had 
 dared to interrupt his slumbers?" The man was, 
 recognized. His weakness was well known. He 
 was taken to an hotel, put to bed, carefully tended 
 through a resulting illness and to the day of his 
 death was, I believe, unconscious of the narrow 
 escape he had from being drowned, or of the name 
 of the man who rescued him from the rising tide 
 of the Sacramento River. 
 
 Suspicion was easily aroused, judgment hastily 
 given and penalties quickly exacted in those early 
 days in California. Joe Murphy was at first sus- 
 pected of foul play. He was searched and the 
 change of his twenty-dollar gold piece found on 
 him, but he told his story convincingly, the facts 
 sustained him and he was permitted to go to his 
 bed and enjoy the long-deferred rest his now di- 
 gested meal allowed him to take. 
 
 The foregoing incident related to me by Mr. 
 Murphy was corroborated by a gentleman I sub- 
 sequently met in Sacramento, then the Mayor of 
 the city, who was present at the occurrence, and 
 the name of the man who was rescued from the 
 river was Edwin Booth, then a young and popular
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 265 
 
 actor in the mining camps and subsequently the 
 leading tragedian of the American stage. 
 
 It must be remembered that this occurred many, 
 years ago in a new country where youth and 
 strength were battling for fortune and its exuber- 
 ance was unrestrained. The folly of youth fre- 
 quently develops into the wisdom of manhood 
 and in no instance is this better exemplified than, 
 in the case of Edwin Booth, whose subsequent 
 career was marked by a complete victory over, 
 inherited weakness, a dignified manhood and an 
 honorable maturity. 
 
 After a period of rest and recuperation I or- 
 ganized a company with Miss Sarah Truax as 
 leading lady and with the old plays: Virginius, 
 Ingomar and Damon and Pythias, made a 
 pleasant and profitable trip to the Pacific north- 
 west, playing a number of small cities that I had 
 not before visited. 
 
 In no part of this country is the sentiment of 
 patriotism more sincere than in the great states 
 of the west, but the words of our national hymns 
 are not always familiar. 
 
 There was a military fort at Boise, Idaho. The 
 troops were about to leave for Cuba, war with 
 Spain having been declared. Several of the offi- 
 cers were members of the order of Elks. It was, 
 arranged by the Boise City Lodge to give them a, 
 parting entertainment. I was selected chairman 
 of the occasion. At the close of the programme, I 
 called on all present to stand and sing the national 
 anthem. There rose about seventy members and
 
 266 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 guests, but of all that company only one person 
 in the room knew the words of the national song, 
 and he was a naturalized citizen of German birth; 
 hence, the greater part of the anthem was a solo 
 with a strong Teutonic inflection, but the con- 
 cluding lines a full voiced chorus, unmistakably 
 American.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 Renewed Association with an Old Comrade. 
 
 Lincoln A. Wagenhals and Colin Kemper were 
 young actors in Augustin Daly's company. They 
 were ambitious to become managers and producers 
 of worthy plays. They pooled their resources and 
 became partners. Their first essay in manage- 
 ment was with a Lyceum Play, "Young Mrs. Win- 
 throp"; later they undertook the management of 
 Louis James in "A Gentleman from France." 
 They were successful 'and desirous of enlarging 
 their operations. They designed a combination of 
 three stars in standard plays and selected M'lle 
 Rhea, Louis James and myself as the trio; but a, 
 change was made necessary by the death of M'lle 
 Rhea, and Miss Katherine Kidder was engaged, 
 to take her place; so the "Triumvirate," as we 
 were called, consisted of Louis James, Katherine 
 Kidder and Frederick Warde. Mr. Kemper di- 
 rected the productions of the plays and Mr. 
 Wagenhals attended to the business management. 
 
 We opened our season at New Britain, Conn.,, 
 on Sept. 14, 1898, in Sheridan's comedy, "The 
 School for Scandal," with the following cast of 
 principals: 
 
 267
 
 268 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 Sir Peter Teazle Mr. Harry Lang-don 
 
 Charles Surface Mr. Louis James 
 
 Joseph Surface Mr. Frederick Warde 
 
 Sir Benjamin Backbite Mr. Colin Eemper 
 
 Sir Oliver Surface Mr. Frank Peters 
 
 Careless Mr. Norman Hackett 
 
 Crabtree Mr. Barry Johnstone 
 
 Mrs. Candour Mrs. Henry Vandenhoff 
 
 Maria Miss Aphie James 
 
 Lady Teazle Miss Katherine Kidder 
 
 The performance of the old comedy was admir- 
 able; the lines were given with a clear enunciation 
 that brought out the pungent wit and keen satire 
 of the author to the full; the elegance of carriage 
 was well sustained and the traditional business 
 of the old comedy sufficiently modified by Mr. 
 Kemper's direction, was given with marked effect. 
 
 Mr. Kemper had designed a unique and effective 
 scene with fluted columns and curtains of figured 
 silk that served as an appropriate setting Tor the 
 comedy and preserved the atmosphere of the 
 eighteenth century. 
 
 Mr. James revelled in the light-hearted gaiety 
 of Charles Surface, Mr. Langdon was substan- 
 tially impressive as Sir Peter. Mrs. Vandenhoff 
 brought all the traditions of the comedy to her 
 performance of Mrs. Candour, while Miss Kath- 
 erine Kidder was a keenly intelligent, yet withal 
 elusively charming Lady Teazle. 
 
 In such company it was a positive pleasure to 
 act a part like Joseph Surface, and I shared in 
 the success of the combination.
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 269 
 
 Mr. James and myself had been so long asso- 
 ciated with the tragic drama that, in spite of the 
 success of The School for Scandal, the manage- 
 ment deemed it advisable to present a repertoire 
 in the large cities, so Julius Caesar, Macbeth and 
 Othello were given, and later, Hamlet. 
 
 In Julius Caesar, Mr. James played Brutus, one 
 of his most effective parts, I played Marc Antony 
 and Barry Johnstone distinguished himself by 
 an admirable performance of Cassius. 
 
 It is a long step from the sparkling comedy of 
 Lady Teazle to the impressive tragedy of Lady 
 Macbeth; but Miss Kidder was fully equal to the 
 task and gave a splendid performance of that 
 much discussed character. 
 
 Mr. James' Hamlet was without any striking 
 features but a most interesting performance 
 worthy of such an accomplished actor. 
 
 The business of the first week or so of the sea- 
 son was not as good as we all had hoped, but it 
 improved rapidly as we reached the south and 
 west and the season closed with a very handsome 
 profit for Messrs. Wagenhals and Kemper, laying 
 the foundation for the very substantial fortune 
 these gentlemen finally achieved after a compara- 
 tively brief managerial career that was conspicu- 
 ous for self-respecting enterprise, business acumen 
 and scrupulous integrity. 
 
 While in Denver, Colorado, I made an address 
 on the study of Shakespeare to the faculty and 
 students of the High School. On the following 
 day a very youthful student of the school called
 
 270 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 on me and expressed a desire to go upon the stage. 
 Such applications were not uncommon, but this 
 applicant, little more than a boy, had an assurance 
 and persistence in spite of my discouragement, 
 that attracted me. He replied frankly to all of 
 my questions, realized the gravity of the step he 
 desired to take; told me the conditions of his life 
 and referred me to his mother for confirmation. 
 
 The lady called on me the next day, indorsed 
 all that her son had told me, approved of the 
 boy's ambitions and the result was I engaged him 
 for my company for the following season, to lead 
 the supernumeraries and to play such small parts 
 as his capacity and appearance would permit. 
 
 The youth was of rather less than average 
 height but of athletic build, with frank attractive 
 features and his name was Douglas Fairbanks. 
 
 Douglas remained with me two years and fully 
 justified his ambition to become an actor. His 
 work was earnest and sincere, his personality 
 agreeable and his energy and ambition unlimited. 
 
 That same ambition and energy has character- 
 ized his subsequent career and Douglas Fairbanks 
 is probably, to-day, with one exception, the most 
 popular moving picture actor in the world. 
 
 Mr. Espy Williams, of New Orleans, had writ- 
 ten a play called "A Gentleman of France," 
 which Louis James had produced and played for a 
 season with considerable success. I wanted a 
 new play. Mr. Williams suggested an adaptation 
 from Dumas' novel La Dame de Monsereau. I 
 commissioned him to make the adaptation and
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 271 
 
 the result was a very excellent romantic comedy 
 which we called "The Duke's Jester." Mr. 
 Williams had closely followed the story of the 
 great French novelist but had changed the locale 
 from France to Italy, and all of the characters 
 from French to Italian. Henri the Fourth of 
 France became the Duke of Milan, and Chiquot the 
 King's fool was Cecco, the jester of the Duke. 
 
 The part of Cecco gave splendid opportunities 
 for a wide range of expression from the sardonic 
 humor of the court jester to the deep emotions of 
 a noble passion and furnished me, in one brief 
 scene, with the novel experience of wearing female 
 apparel. 
 
 The incident was essential to the plot and some- 
 what of a sensation, but was quite a shock to many 
 of my friends who had only seen me in the digni- 
 fied manhood of the Shakespearean and classic 
 parts. 
 
 "The Duke's Jester" served as a capital vehicle 
 for two successful seasons under the management 
 of Clarence M. Brune, whose wife, Minnie Tittel 
 Brune, acted as leading lady. 
 
 I again assumed my own management and inau- 
 gurated the season of 1901-2, with a production of 
 a new Roman tragedy by Miss Verna Woods, of 
 Sacramento, California, called Horatius, founded 
 on the somewhat legendary story of the rivalry of 
 the Horatii and Curiatii. 
 
 The tragedy was admirably written. I pro- 
 duced it with every care and attention to detail. 
 It was acted by an excellent company that in-
 
 272 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 eluded Charles D. Herman, Barry Johnstone, 
 Francis McGinn, Antoinette Ashton and Virginia 
 Drew Trescott, but it failed to please. I withdrew 
 it after a few performances and found my reper- 
 toire of King Lear, Virginius, Julius Caesar, and 
 The Mountebank still attractive. 
 
 In May, 1902, I took the company to Honolulu, 
 Hawaii, and played for three weeks at the Royal 
 Hawaiian Opera House in that city. It was a 
 lucrative and most interesting venture. 
 
 The island of Oahu on which Honolulu is lo- 
 cated, is fitly called "The Paradise of the Pacific.' ' 
 The city itself bowered in foliage is exquisitely 
 beautiful, nestling at the feet of rugged hills, al- 
 ways green from their "Liquid sunshine." The 
 island, surrounded by the blue waters of the 
 Pacific Ocean, is indeed a veritable emerald set 
 in a sapphire sea. 
 
 Life in Honolulu passes like a dream. Every- 
 thing is done leisurely. The morning stroll, the 
 noon siesta, the evening concert and the prome- 
 nade lasting into the cool tropical night. 
 
 The Royal Hawaiian Opera House is a compara- 
 tively modern theatre. On our opening night it 
 was packed with the elite of the island, both native 
 and foreign. The gentlemen in evening dress, the 
 ladies in elaborate decollette costume, jewels 
 gleaming on their dusky shoulders. It was like a 
 grand opera audience at the Metropolitan. 
 
 We gave only four performances a week, so we 
 had leisure to see the many attractions of the
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 273 
 
 island and enjoy the hospitality that was so gen- 
 erously accorded us. 
 
 It needs a far more eloquent pen than mine to 
 do justice to the charm of the Hawaiian people, 
 the beauty of their island homes, and their lavish 
 hospitality. My visit to and reception in Hono- 
 lulu is a cherished memory that is shared by my 
 wife and daughters, who accompanied me on the 
 trip, and that memory is constantly revived by 
 the many gifts and souvenirs from Hawaiian 
 friends that have a permanent place in, and adorn, 
 my home. 
 
 On leaving Honolulu, the Hawaiian Lodge of 
 Elks tendered me an imposing tribute of farewell. 
 They chartered the large ocean-going tug of the 
 Harbor, entwined the rigging with the colors of 
 the order, purple and white, engaged the Royal 
 Hawaiian Band and with a company of eighty, 
 comprising the members of the lodge and their 
 families, accompanied our departing steamer ten 
 miles to sea. 
 
 We ourselves were garlanded with flowers, the 
 leis (pronounced lays) wreathing us almost to 
 our feet; a beautiful national custom to welcome 
 and bid farewell with flowers. 
 
 It is not without emotion we reached the part- 
 ing of the ways. The lines were cast off, our loyal 
 friends returned to their island home and our own 
 vessel speeded back to the United States as the 
 melody of Auld Lang Syne receded in the violet 
 haze of the coming twilight. 
 
 On our return to San Francisco, we played a
 
 274 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 summer season of several weeks at the California 
 Theatre. 
 
 While I was playing in San Francisco, the Bo- 
 hemian Club gave a Sunday morning breakfast to 
 Henry M. Stanley, the African explorer. He had 
 not then been knighted. I was a guest. The 
 breakfast was scheduled for one o'clock. The 
 arrangements were unique and characteristic, as 
 all Bohemian Club functions are. The table was 
 outlined in the form of the map of Africa, the 
 menus hand painted by artist members in appro- 
 priate designs. The guests numbered forty. Mr. 
 Stanley, accompanied by Major Pond, his lecture 
 manager, was received by Captain Macdonald, the 
 President of the Club, introduced to the guests and 
 escorted to the table. 
 
 At the proper time the President proposed the 
 health of Mr. Stanley. It was enthusiastically 
 acclaimed by the company, standing. Mr. Stan- 
 ley, who had maintained since his arrival an ex- 
 pression of boredom and weariness, rose to reply 
 and in a perfunctory tone said in substance: 
 "Gentlemen, thank you for your compliment. I 
 am very glad to meet you Thank you," and sat 
 down. 
 
 An almost audible groan came from the assem- 
 bled guests and for a moment it looked as if our 
 African breakfast would be a fiasco: but Mr. 
 James D. Phelan, affectionately known in the club 
 as "Jimmy" Phelan, and now as The Honorable 
 James D. Phelan, United States Senator from Cal- 
 ifornia, took the chair and command of the situa-
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 275 
 
 tion, and in a short time eloquence, wit, humor 
 and music restored the spirit of the occasion. 
 
 The speakers of course eulogized our chief 
 guest, but the last one, Uncle George Bromley, the 
 High Priest of Bohemia and the best loved mem- 
 ber of the club, had a grievance. He had formerly 
 been a sea captain and he complained that the club 
 had failed to recognize him as an African explorer, 
 and related several incidents that he claimed en- 
 titled him to that honor. It was a humorous 
 speech not entirely free from satire and it kept the 
 company in roars of laughter. 
 
 Mr. Stanley had been listening with gradually 
 awakening interest to the proceedings, and at the 
 conclusion of Uncle George's address asked per- 
 mission from the chairman to speak. It was read- 
 ily given. After apologizing for his early indif- 
 ference, which he ascribed to a misconception of 
 the character of the club and its membership, he 
 entertained us for nearly an hour with an interest- 
 ing account of his travels, related many unpub- 
 lished adventures and entered into the spirit of the 
 occasion with a zest that completely reinstated 
 him in the admiration and esteem of the company. 
 
 He inspected the club library, inscribed his name 
 in several of his books and heartily accepted an in- 
 vitation to an impromptu Bohemian dinner at the 
 Cliff House. 
 
 A messenger was sent to that famous resort with 
 the necessary instructions, ten carriages were or- 
 dered for our transportation and a memorable oc- 
 casion closed with a dinner where wit, wisdom and
 
 276 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 conviviality brightened the passing hours and 
 ushered in a new day in the calendar. 
 
 At the close of our San Francisco engagement I 
 came East to appear again under the management 
 of Wagenhals and Kemper in an elaborate produc- 
 tion of "The Tempest," and to resume association 
 with my old comrade Louis James. 
 
 "The Tempest" was a very beautiful production 
 with many novel and artistic effects conceived and 
 directed by Mr. Kemper. The company was a re- 
 markably good one and the performance gave the 
 greatest pleasure and satisfaction. 
 
 As a matter of interest and record I append the 
 cast of the principal characters: 
 
 Prospero Mr. Frederick Warde 
 
 Caliban Mr. Louis James 
 
 Ferdinand Mr. Norman Hackett 
 
 Stephano Mr. Wadsworth Harris 
 
 Trinculo Mr. Thomas Coffin Cook 
 
 Miranda Miss Teresa Maxwell 
 
 Ariel Miss Edith Fassett 
 
 Our first performance of The Tempest was 
 given at Lansing, Mich., on September 1, 1902. 
 
 Mr. James' Caliban was a wonderful piece of 
 acting, and his make-up as half beast, half man, 
 effective in the extreme. 
 
 Prospero gave me an opportunity to present the 
 dignified figure of a loving father and a noble na- 
 ture serenely conscious of integrity with the power 
 that knowledge and experience gives over the de- 
 based and ignorant.
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 277 
 
 Miss Teresa Maxwell was beautiful and tender 
 as Miranda, Wadsworth Harris gave amusing 
 prominence to Stephano, the drunken butler, and 
 Mr. Cook effectively rendered the vapid folly of 
 the "Pied-ninny" Trinculo. 
 
 Our season with "The Tempest" lasted thirty- 
 seven weeks. We crossed the continent four 
 times and our travelling approximated no less 
 than thirty thousand miles. 
 
 Unfortunately I contracted a cold in California 
 that threatened pneumonia, and for practically the 
 first time in my career, was unable to play. I 
 then realized the distress of being confined to my 
 bed in helpless restraint while the company pro- 
 ceeded on its way. My recovery, however, was 
 rapid. Mr. Wadsworth Harris played Prospero 
 for a few days and I then resumed the part. 
 
 A new play by Rupert Hughes and Colin Kem- 
 per entitled "Alexander the Great," was the fea- 
 ture of the season 1903-4. It was a classic 
 tragedy, picturesque and full of incident, written 
 in modern prose. 
 
 Mr. James played Alexander, I was the Perdicus 
 and Miss Margaret Bourne the leading lady. The 
 company was practically the same as the preced- 
 ing season. 
 
 Accustomed as we were to the blank verse of 
 Shakespearean plays we had some difficulty in har- 
 monizing the dignity and bearing of the great 
 characters of antiquity with the modern colloquial 
 language in which Alexander was written, but we
 
 278 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 finally overcame it. The play was interesting but 
 achieved no permanent success. 
 
 Later in the season Miss Alma Cruger replaced 
 Miss Bourne as leading lady, and Othello and 
 Macbeth were given in conjunction with the new 
 play. 
 
 A humorous incident occurred during a per- 
 formance of Alexander. A very beautiful effect 
 was produced by the curtain rising on a mountain- 
 ous scene in a heavy snow storm. The effect of 
 falling snow was obtained by means of a mechan- 
 ical contrivance, revolving like a moving picture 
 camera in the front of the house, and reflected on 
 the scene. It was usually very effective; but one 
 evening the operator reversed his cylinder. The 
 result was that the snow appeared to be rising 
 from the earth instead of falling from the clouds. 
 The error was soon discovered and remedied but 
 not before it had caused the actors some embar- 
 rassment and furnished considerable amusement 
 for the audience. 
 
 Wagenhals and Kemper had purchased a pic- 
 turesque tragedy of ancient Carthage, by Stanis- 
 laus Stange, called "Salambo." It had been 
 played by Miss Blanche Walsh and Charles Dalton 
 in New York with considerable success. The man- 
 agers thought the principal parts were admirably 
 suited to Miss Katherine Kidder and myself, so, 
 Mr. James having made other arrangements, they 
 engaged us for a joint starring tour, with Salambo 
 as the prominent dramatic feature. 
 
 Mr. Kemper gave the play an elaborate spectac-
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 279 
 
 ular setting, the company was excellent and both 
 Miss Kidder as Salambo, and myself as Matho, the 
 barbarian, were successful in our respective char- 
 acters. 
 
 Matho was a very effective part, somewhat like 
 Ingomar in his general characteristics, but infi- 
 nitely more strenuous. In the final catastrophe, I 
 had to die at the summit of quite a high flight of 
 steps and roll down to the stage, near the foot- 
 lights. I found this to be quite an acrobatic feat; 
 however, I accomplished it, but at the price of 
 many abrasions of my elbows and knees and much 
 application of arnica and court plaster. 
 
 We opened our season quite early (August 20th) 
 and practically traversed the entire country from 
 New York to California and from Northern Mich- 
 igan to Texas. 
 
 During a former season, Miss Kidder had been 
 very successful in the dual parts of Hermione and 
 Perdita, in "The Winter's Tale." She was anx- 
 ious to repeat the performance. It was an oppor- 
 tunity for me to play Leontes, a part in which I 
 had never appeared, and I welcomed it. Mr. Kem- 
 per directed the production with excellent taste, 
 the cast was adequate and the performance of the 
 play admirable. 
 
 Miss Kidder fully justified her ambition; she 
 gave a delicate charm and sweetness to both parts 
 with a striking contrast of characterization. 
 Wadsworth Harris was a fine Polixines, and 
 Thomas Coffin Cook brought out the comedy of
 
 280 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 Autolvcus, that "Snapper-up of unconsidered 
 trifles." 
 
 I received many compliments from the press for 
 my Leontes, but I was not satisfied with my per- 
 formance. Othello's jealousy is aroused by the 
 cunning suggestions of lago, who produces some 
 evidence to justify them, but in the case of Leon- 
 tes, his jealousy is not only groundless but abso- 
 lutely without reason; it is not only injustice but 
 folly bordering on insanity, and I found great dif- 
 ficulty in presenting these phases of the character 
 satisfactorily to myself. 
 
 For some seasons past I had been in the habit of 
 delivering addresses and lectures on the study of 
 Shakespeare to the High and Public Schools of the 
 various cities I visited. These lectures had at- 
 tracted the attention of the Lyceum and Chautau- 
 qua managers, and I received a very flattering 
 offer from an important Bureau to appear on the 
 public lecture platform for a season. 
 
 I had noted for some time a diminishing patron- 
 age for dramatic representations of Shakespeare's 
 plays on the stage and an increasing interest in 
 their study and analysis in our schools and literary 
 societies. 
 
 I was very reluctant to leave the stage that for 
 nearly forty years had been the sphere of my ac- 
 tive life, but Wagenhals and Kemper had decided 
 to produce modern plays. I did not feel justified in 
 assuming the responsibilities of management and 
 production; so I accepted the proposition that 
 would still keep me before the public, if not by the
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 281 
 
 impersonation of Shakespeare's characters, at 
 least by the exploitation and discussion of his 
 plays.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 The Chautauqua and Lyceum Platforms. 
 
 My first experience on the public lecture plat- 
 form was a summer of Chautauqua work. 
 
 Few people who reside in the larger cities of the 
 country have any idea of the institution of Chau- 
 tauqua, but it is welcomed as an attractive factor 
 of entertainment and instruction by those who 
 live in small communities. It gives them an op- 
 portunity to see and hear men and women of na- 
 tional and international reputation in the world of 
 education, thought and achievement, to hear great 
 music and to be entertained by eminent artists 
 that only such an institution could bring to them, 
 and at a trifling cost. 
 
 Chautauqua meetings continue from three days 
 to two weeks according to the size of the com- 
 munity. The meetings are usually held in a pa- 
 vilion, some of them permanent buildings specially 
 constructed for the purpose, and at other times in 
 large tents. The meetings are in the hands of a 
 committee of local residents and the lectures and 
 other entertainments are under the direction of a 
 platform manager. 
 
 . The entire proceedings are informal. There are 
 no reserved seats. The audiences, as a rule, are 
 
 282
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 283 
 
 quite large and very attentive. They go and come 
 at will, and many remain at the termination of the 
 lecture to chat with the speaker and extend to him 
 their hospitality. 
 
 Chautauqua meetings are non-sectarian and 
 local churchmen are generally very active in the 
 work. 
 
 At Lincoln, Nebraska, there is quite an impor- 
 tant annual Chautauqua gathering. On a Sunday 
 evening I was delivering an address called 
 "Shakespeare, Apostle of Christianity." An au- 
 dience of more than three thousand persons was 
 before me. Behind me, on the platform, was 
 seated a semicircle of local and visiting clergy- 
 men. I could feel their attention and interest in 
 my subject, but as I made my arguments and 
 quoted various passages from the plays to support 
 my premise, I was startled to hear at intervals, 
 voices behind me saying: "Amen, Amen." 
 
 I was considerably embarrassed at first, but 
 finally grew accustomed to it. My entire address 
 was punctuated, at the conclusion of every period, 
 with the Hebrew endorsement: "Amen, Amen." 
 
 Chautauqua committees are very proud of their 
 "Talent," that is the technical term for their at- 
 tractions, but they are not always familiar with 
 their personality. At the Chautauqua at Bartle- 
 ville, Oklahoma, the chairman of the committee 
 introduced me to the audience. He spoke of my 
 reputation as an actor, an orator, a man, and eulo- 
 gized me from every point of view, concluding his 
 panegyric with: "I now have the extreme pleas-
 
 284 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 ure of introducing you to ' ' and turning to me 
 
 asked, sotto voce, "What name, please?" 
 
 My Chautauqua trip was delightful. The travel 
 was constant but it was summer-time and the 
 country was beautiful. 
 
 My experience was a revelation of an institu- 
 tion and a form of instruction and entertainment 
 I had never before conceived. I was brought into 
 contact and association with many men of learn- 
 ing and broad constructive views of life. I had 
 met and come into closer touch with truly Amer- 
 ican audiences than ever before. 
 
 I had visited the homes and enjoyed the hospi- 
 tality of scores of people to whom I was hitherto 
 unknown, and I had enriched myself with many 
 friendships founded on mutual appreciation and 
 esteem that compensated my itinerancy and sweet- 
 ened its memory. 
 
 Travel during the fall and winter season to 
 fill engagements on Lyceum lecture courses was 
 quite strenuous. In arranging a lecture tour the 
 Bureaus do not make a consecutive route, or con- 
 sider the length of the journey; the only point is, 
 Can the lecturer get there in time to keep his en- 
 gagement? 
 
 In consequence some of the journeys were very 
 long, and frequently included road, river and rail. 
 
 Many towns were on small branching lines, the 
 running schedule being: One round trip a day with 
 stops to suit the passengers. At times a freight 
 train was my only means of transportation, and I
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 285 
 
 became quite as much at home in a caboose as in 
 a Pullman car. 
 
 Gross country trips in an automobile, at night 
 after the lecture, to catch a passing train at some 
 distant point, were not unusual, and on more than 
 one occasion an honest old horse and buggy have 
 carried me to my destination. 
 
 I especially recall one journey in Texas which I 
 will endeavor to describe. 
 
 "How is the I. and G. N. south?" I inquired of 
 the station agent at Hearne. 
 
 "Why, Mr. Warde, what are you doing here? 
 Where's your company? Not actin'? Lecturin'! 
 Well, I swan! Quit the stage, hev ye? Where be 
 ye goin' to lectur to-night? Cameron?" came in 
 rapid succession from the agent who happened to 
 recognize me. 
 
 "Well, ye won't get there to-night if ye go by 
 rail: the train's bulletined three hours late, but be- 
 tween you and me it 's indefinite. " " Can I get a 
 special?" I inquired. "I reckon not," said the 
 agent. ' 'We're mighty short on rolling stock just 
 now; and there ain't a spare engine nigher than 
 Palestine." 
 
 "Is there no means by which I can reach Cam- 
 eron by eight o'clock?" I asked. "Not as I know 
 on," said he, "unless ye drive over." "How far 
 is it?" "Well, it's thirty miles by rail, but it 
 may be a little shorter by road." "Is there a liv- 
 ery handy?" "Well, there's Bill Dickson, he's got 
 some rigs; ye '11 find him on the platform. I guess 
 he '11 take ye over. " " How long will it take to get
 
 286 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 there?" "Well, a fair team ought to make seven 
 miles an hour it's nigh on to three o'clock now. 
 I reckon he can get yer there by seven or half past. 
 I guess, though, the roads are a little bit heavy; 
 it's been rainin' some both last night and this 
 mornin'." 
 
 I found "Bill" Dickson: a good-natured mu- 
 latto, who undertook to have a team ready in 
 twenty minutes and to get me to Cameron by eight 
 o'clock, sure. I telegraphed the local Committee 
 and waited for the team. 
 
 "Bill" Dickson kept his word. The team ar- 
 rived at the time promised. A strong, neat little 
 buggy, but a pair of ill-assorted, scraggy little po- 
 nies that looked as if they would blow away in a 
 strong wind. 
 
 "Those poor brutes will never make that jour- 
 ney," I said. "Oh, yes, they will," replied Dick- 
 son. * 'We can't use those big fat horses here that 
 you have up north. Them ponies may not be 
 much to look at, but they are good 'uns to go." 
 
 There was nothing to do but accept his assur- 
 ance though I was not convinced and had very lit- 
 tle confidence in reaching my destination in time 
 for my lecture, for by this time it was nearly half 
 past three o'clock and we had twenty-eight miles 
 to drive through the "Black wax" roads of the 
 Brazos bottoms. 
 
 I climbed into the buggy and the ponies started 
 off at a good gait. Then I looked at my driver. 
 A more unique and characteristic figure of his race 
 I had never seen. He was a coal black negro,
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 287 
 
 spare but muscular, with a deeply furrowed face, 
 a bald head, and a fringe of ragged, gray kinky 
 whiskers. He wore neither shirt, coat nor hat; 
 just a ragged vest and an undershirt with the 
 sleeves torn off above the elbows, showing his bare 
 forearms which shone like polished mahogany. 
 
 He drove well: he didn't use a whip but just 
 talked to the horses as if they were human beings, 
 called each horse by name, and encouraged, ad- 
 monished, approved or reproached them as cir- 
 cumstances demanded. They seemed to under- 
 stand every word he said and responded promptly 
 to his voice. 
 
 By this time I had gained a little confidence and 
 got into conversation with my driver. 
 
 He told me his name was Antony Organ; that he 
 had been in Texas thirty-five years, was seventy- 
 two years of age and was born a slave, on a plan- 
 tation in the state of Mississippi. He had been 
 happy as a slave, had a good master who didn't 
 work him at night or on Sundays which appeared 
 to be the criterion by which masters were judged. 
 
 His comments and views on existing conditions 
 and current events were most interesting, showing 
 evidence of close observation and sound common 
 sense, coupled with an uniqueness of expression, 
 impossible to set down in type. 
 
 The satisfaction of starting and the interesting 
 driver made the first few miles pass pleasantly, 
 but we were getting further from town and the 
 mud was pretty bad. Our wheels were one solid 
 mass of thick waxy soil, like the wheels of an an-
 
 288 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 cient Roman chariot, but beneath the surface mud 
 of the road the long preceding drought had formed 
 a solid foundation into which the moisture had not 
 penetrated, so, with the exception of being well 
 bespattered, we suffered little inconvenience. 
 
 We were now in the Brazos bottoms; one of the 
 most fertile cotton growing districts in the world. 
 On either side were vast fields of the long staple, 
 the last pickings still on the plants. Rich green 
 foliage marked the course of the river, while the 
 deep crimson of the now declining sun made a 
 combination of landscape and color that gave sig- 
 nificant beauty to the close of an autumn day. 
 
 We passed a few white men on horseback, who 
 nodded to us good-naturedly, and several vehicles 
 driven by colored men who all greeted my driver 
 respectfully and addressed him as "Mister" Or- 
 gan, which apparently pleased him greatly. 
 
 We reached and crossed the Little Brazos, then 
 our way lay through the flat level of more bottom 
 land till we came to the Big Brazos, a broad yel- 
 low stream, on the far side of which rose a wall of 
 red and ochre sandstone; and we had accomplished 
 about one-third of our journey. 
 
 The country began to rise now and the soil be- 
 ing hard and the sand tightly packed, we got along 
 famously. Mister Organ chirped to his horses and 
 assured me that he would get me to Cameron by 
 half -past seven "If nothing broke." 
 
 The possibility of such a calamity alarmed me 
 somewhat, but we were making very good time and 
 I speedily forgot it. The air was cool and brae-
 
 Frederick Warde as Fray Junipero Serra, Founder of the 
 Missions. In the "Mission Play"
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 289 
 
 ing, the kaleidoscopic changes of light and color 
 in the landscape, now deepening with the gather- 
 ing shadows of evening, was pleasant and soothing 
 to the senses and it was only the constant urging 
 of the horses by Mister Organ that kept me alert 
 to the conditions and possibilities of the time. 
 
 Now through scrub oak woods, then in the open 
 with a cabin and a small patch of cotton, at inter- 
 vals, then more woods and we began to descend 
 again into the bottoms and black land. 
 
 My lunch had been scanty. I began to feel hun- 
 gry. I asked if it were possible to obtain a cup of 
 coffee or a glass of milk at any wayside place, but 
 Mister Organ emphatically informed me: "Dar 
 ain't nothin' like dat to be gotten round yere." 
 
 The road now began to get heavy again and the 
 horses to show marked signs of fatigue. Dark- 
 ness had fallen. There was no moon, but a few 
 stars, and our only means of keeping in the road 
 was to watch the black streak between the long 
 dried grass that grew on either side and had been 
 blanched from its natural color to a light gray by 
 the weather. 
 
 The strain on the horses was very severe and we 
 had frequently to stop and rest them. A man on 
 horseback appeared out of the darkness. We 
 eagerly inquired the distance to Cameron. "Oh, 
 about five miles," he replied. This encouraged 
 us and we urged the horses to another effort. I 
 had lost all sense of time and had purposely re- 
 frained from lighting a match and consulting my 
 watch, fearing my engagement was already lost,
 
 290 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 but now I did so and found it wanted a quarter to 
 eight o'clock. 
 
 Startled by an exclamation from Mister Organ: 
 "Look thar, boss," I looked up and there on a rise 
 in the distance I saw a dim light. "Bar's the 
 town!" exclaimed my driver, "we'll get dar yit!" 
 
 My spirits rose, and I offered Mister Organ my 
 sole remaining cigar. He didn't smoke; so, with 
 great satisfaction I lit it myself and was enjoying 
 the fragrance of the first puff, when, as the horses 
 made an extra effort to get through a particularly 
 bad place, something snapped, and we came to a 
 dead stop. 
 
 "What's the trouble?" I asked of Mister Organ, 
 who had descended as rapidly as his age would 
 permit. "The trace done broke, boss," he said. 
 "Good Heavens, that does settle the matter! ' ' I ex- 
 claimed. "No, it don't, boss," replied he, "I'll 
 git you thar yit. Git me dat dar hitchin' rope 
 from under dat seat." I groped around, found it 
 and handed it to him. Skillfully he substituted 
 the rope for the trace, fastened it firmly to the col- 
 lar and the buggy, and we were on our way once 
 more. 
 
 The delay in replacing the trace had taken some 
 ten minutes, but had given the horses a rest, so we 
 started off well and shortly found ourselves in the 
 outskirts of the town. "Whar shall I drive ye 
 to?" asked Mister Organ. "To the Public 
 Square," I replied. Scarcely a light was to be 
 seen there and not a soul to give any information. 
 "Drive to any building that shows a light," I said.
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 291 
 
 He drove round the Square and in the extreme op- 
 posite corner were two dimly lighted lamps. It 
 was the Opera House. 
 
 Two gentlemen, both wearing white ties, were 
 standing at the door, peering anxiously into the 
 gloom. "Where is Mr. Warde to lecture to- 
 night?" I asked. "Here we are waiting for him," 
 one of them replied. "Well, here I am," I said, 
 and no I did not leap from the buggy. I de- 
 scended slowly and painfully. My limbs had been 
 cramped in practically one position for nearly six 
 hours, and but for assistance I should have fallen. 
 
 "What is the time?" I asked. "A quarter to 
 nine. We have been waiting for you since eight 
 o'clock." "Well, give me five minutes more and 
 I will be ready." 
 
 There was a hotel next door to the Opera House, 
 so I dismissed Mister Organ with cordial thanks 
 and a substantial reward, and entered the hotel. 
 Could I get a cup of coffee? No! A glass of 
 milk? No! A glass of water? "There's the 
 bucket and dipper; help yourself." I did, and 
 sluiced my face and hands as well; then in my 
 travelling clothes thickly bespattered with the 
 mud of the Brazos bottoms, I went on the platform 
 and for nearly two hours, to a surprisingly large 
 and very attentive audience, I discussed the plays 
 of Shakespeare, and forgot my hunger and fatigue. 
 
 It was an interesting experience that I hope I 
 may not be called upon to repeat; but, if I am, I 
 could wish for no more loyal entertaining guide
 
 292 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 and companion than Mister Organ, who "got me 
 dar" even when "the trace done broke." 
 
 In Greeley, Colorado, I lectured in the Opera 
 House. At the back of the stage was a large 
 double door for the admission of scenery and bag- 
 gage. Near this door, a donkey, or, as they are 
 called in Colorado, a burro, had been tethered. I 
 was in about the middle of my address, and with 
 some emphasis said: "I am about to make an as- 
 sertion. It may surprise you, but with me it is a 
 
 conviction; and that is " At this instant the 
 
 burro let out a loud bray He Haw! He Haw! He 
 Haw! that was heard as distinctly by the audi- 
 ence as if the animal had been on the platform. It 
 commenced fortissimo and continued in a diminu- 
 endo to its conclusion. Of course, the audience 
 laughed uproariously. 
 
 I tried to counteract the effect of the interrup- 
 tion by a quotation from The Hunchback 
 " 'Twas Clifford's voice if ever Clifford spoke," 
 but the audience was not familiar with that old 
 play, and it fell flat. I proceeded with my lecture, 
 but without making any impression, and I greatly 
 fear, the voice of the burro will be remembered 
 when mine has been forgotten. 
 
 During the five years I remained upon the lec- 
 ture platform, I visited many of the State and 
 other Universities, and lectured to the faculty and 
 students, notably: the Universities of California, 
 Oregon, Washington, Illinois, Kansas, Virginia, 
 North Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, Florida, Lou- 
 isiana and Arkansas. Also Cornell, at Ithaca,
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 293 
 
 N. Y.; Leland Stanford, at Palo Alto, California; 
 Notre Dame, Indiana; Georgetown, D. C., and 
 Suannee, in the Cumberland mountains of Ten- 
 nessee. 
 
 It was a great satisfaction to find so much in- 
 terest taken in the drama, not only from an educa- 
 tional point of view, but as an important factor in 
 the study of the problems of life. 
 
 Shakespeare was, of course, included in the 
 study of literature, and I was very proud to know 
 that many thoughts and views that I had ex- 
 pressed in my lectures were accepted and adopted 
 by many professors in that department of study. 
 
 My theory has ever been, and is, that Shake- 
 speare wrote his plays to be acted on a stage, and 
 for that purpose only. That the intent and mean- 
 ing of his words is perfectly plain; except in some 
 isolated instances where the language of the time 
 in which he wrote is unfamiliar to modern readers, 
 and that their profundity exists only in the minds 
 of misdirected students. 
 
 My endeavor has been to point out the simplic- 
 ity and beauty of the poet's works, his human 
 philosophy and his fidelity to nature. I am happy 
 to think I have in some measure succeeded. 
 
 Among the many speakers I met during my ex- 
 perience on the platform, I pleasurably recall the 
 Hon. George Wendling, a man of great amiability 
 and culture, whose lecture, "The Man of Galilee," 
 was a masterpiece of correctly studied English. 
 William J. Bryan, so many times the unsuccessful 
 candidate for the Presidency of the United States,
 
 294 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 John Temple Graves, broadminded, eloquent and 
 impressive, Senator La Follette of Wisconsin, 
 whose addresses were mainly political, supported 
 by lengthy extracts from the Congressional Rec- 
 ord, Adam Bede, a member of Congress, a very 
 practical man with a fund of homely humor, Opie 
 Reed, author of a number of charming stories of 
 Southwestern life, whom I introduced to an audi- 
 ence at Evansville, Ind., and I think with justice, 
 as the "Charles Dickens of America," and "Sun- 
 shine" (I have forgotten his first name) Hawks, a 
 most entertaining little gentleman whose ad- 
 dresses were filled with optimistic philosophy ex- 
 ampled by entertaining anecdotes told with an 
 ever present smile that captivated his audience 
 and justified his sobriquet. 
 
 In spite of many attractive conditions of the 
 public forum, I was not contented. I enjoyed the 
 mental exhilaration of addressing and holding the 
 interest of large audiences. I enjoyed the close 
 association with the people that the Lyceum and 
 Chautauqua platforms afforded. There was a sat- 
 isfaction in convincing the intelligence of my au- 
 dience by precept, argument and logic, but I 
 missed the strong appeal to their emotions that the 
 drama makes; the invisible but manifest current 
 of sympathetic attraction that the actor produces 
 in his impersonation of character. I missed the 
 association and companionship of the members of 
 my company, their broad sympathy, their opti- 
 mism and light-hearted gaiety. I was very lonely, 
 
 I don't think I fully realized the complete com'
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 295 
 
 panionship that exists in a travelling dramatic 
 company until I found myself compelled to take 
 long daily journeys alone. Occasionally I would 
 be recognized and addressed and a pleasant con- 
 versation would follow; but it was the exception, 
 not the rule. 
 
 Here let me in simple justice pay a long de- 
 layed but deserved tribute to my fellow artists 
 the actors of the stage and I use the term artists 
 advisedly, for each and every one is inspired with 
 the art instinct from the first moment they enter 
 the profession and that instinct is fostered by as- 
 sociation and environment. I speak now, not of 
 the stars who have achieved fame and fortune, but 
 of the rank and file of the profession whose work 
 is so essential to the complete artistic entity of a 
 performance those whom I have described in the 
 earlier chapters of my story as utility men and 
 women, walking gentlemen, ladies in waiting, sec- 
 ond old men and women, soubrettes, comedi- 
 ans, in fact, all. They who, like "The man who 
 carries the gun," are the very vital and important 
 factors in the play, yet whose praises and accom- 
 plishments go often unrecorded and unsung. 
 
 It has been my good fortune to travel far and 
 wide, to meet all classes of men and women in 
 every walk of life yet never in all my experience 
 have I encountered a group of people so loyal, so 
 generous, and considerate of each other, so im- 
 bued with the principles of true comradeship as 
 the actors and actresses of both the English and 
 American stage. Their sincerity of purpose and
 
 296 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 worthy endeavors are often obscured from public 
 appreciation by the exploitation of their lesser 
 weaknesses in prose and verse, cartoon and song 
 by cheap wits, who for lack of mind and matter, 
 too often, hold honest men and women up to ridi- 
 cule, and mislead the public if not by facts, at least 
 by suggestion and innuendo. 
 
 The itinerant life of an actor precludes the ob- 
 servance of conventionalities and an atmosphere 
 of Bohemianism exists amongst them; but it ema- 
 nates from a source that is founded on personal es- 
 teem with a full appreciation of fundamental du- 
 ties and mutual obligations. 
 
 True, occasionally little jealousies and petty dis- 
 agreements will arise, such as are common in all 
 large families, but beneath the surface is the same 
 affection and concordant loyalty that exists in 
 family relations. 
 
 The faith of the actor in his manager, more so 
 perhaps in former days than now, was almost 
 childlike in its simplicity. 
 
 In what other profession or calling would the 
 people engaged in it go weeks without receiving 
 their salary, or possibly only a portion of it, live 
 at inferior hotels, suffer hardships themselves and 
 deprive their families of adequate support, in loy- 
 alty to a manager employer, who sometimes proves 
 unworthy of their confidence and leaves them 
 stranded in a strange city without funds? Hap- 
 pily such conditions are now uncommon, but they 
 have occurred, and in spite of past experience and
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 297 
 
 the safeguards that have been secured for their 
 protection, may occur again. 
 
 Is it to be wondered at that I was lonely and 
 missed them when for years I had been the object 
 of their respect and affection? I was the sharer 
 of their labor, their hopes and ambitions, "The 
 Gov'nor," as they loved to call me, and vied with 
 each other to make my travel pleasant and our 
 work effective. 
 
 Under these circumstances it can readily be un- 
 derstood that after repeated urgings and requests 
 from managers, editors and personal friends to 
 round out my active life in the sphere in which I 
 had begun it, I finally yielded and decided to re- 
 turn to the stage. 
 
 This did not mean that I should abandon the 
 platform entirely, but that my work thereon 
 should be subordinate to the stage, where long ex- 
 perience, earnest study and general recognition 
 justified my claim to be called "An actor."
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Close of the Story. 
 
 It is the consensus of opinion of scholars and 
 critics that Timon of Athens was left an unfinished 
 play by Shakespeare, and that it was completed by 
 an unknown writer or writers contemporary with 
 the editors of the first complete edition of the 
 poet's plays and published in the year 1623, seven 
 years after Shakespeare's death. 
 
 Timon of Athens has been produced only at in- 
 frequent intervals. 
 
 During my engagement at the Prince's Thea- 
 tre, Manchester, England, Mr. Charles Calvert 
 made quite an elaborate production of the play 
 which was received with great interest by his pa- 
 trons, though I cannot assert that it was a popular 
 success. 
 
 Mr. Calvert gave such a splendid performance 
 of the princely and afterwards misanthropic Ti- 
 mon, that it made a deep impression on me. I 
 played a comparatively small part, but determined 
 when the opportunity came, to make a production 
 of the play and act the part of Timon myself. 
 
 I ascertained that Timon had not been acted in 
 this country for more than seventy years, so what 
 
 298
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 299 
 
 more fitting opportunity would present itself than 
 my return to the stage after an absence of some 
 time to make the production and give modern au- 
 diences an opportunity to see and hear a perform- 
 ance of this infrequently acted play. 
 
 Following Mr. Calvert's example, I reduced the 
 number of scenes, concentrated the action and in- 
 terpolated some lines to clarify the motives and 
 arranged an appropriate tableau to bring the play 
 to an effective conclusion. After careful and ade- 
 quate rehearsals I produced the play at the Fulton 
 Opera House, Lancaster, Pa. 
 
 As a matter of interest and record I append the 
 programme and cast of the first performance. 
 
 FULTON OPERA HOUSE, 
 
 Lancaster, Pa. 
 Monday evening, Oct. 3, 1910. 
 
 Engagement of 
 
 MR. FREDERICK WARDE 
 
 Presenting Wm. Shakespeare's Play 
 
 "TIMON OF ATHENS" 
 
 (A Tragedy in Five Acts) 
 
 FREELY ADAPTED, arranged for modern presen- 
 tation, and produced under the direction of Frederick 
 Warde. 
 
 New Scenery by P. Dodd Ackerman, Valentine and 
 Jonn Young Studios. 
 
 Costumes by Miss Textor. 
 
 Properties by Joseph Turner. 
 
 The pantomime of "The Senses" and Greek dance in
 
 300 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 First Act, arranged by Miss Atalanta Nicolaides, from 
 
 authentic sources. 
 
 Timon, a Wealthy Athenian Mr. Frederick Warde 
 
 Lucius, ] T j j -m * f Mr- Andrew Rogers 
 
 _ ' Lords, and Flat- L, _ ., _ ' 
 
 Lucullus, I ' m . 4 Mr. Leopold Lane 
 
 terers of Timon ) ,, _ , , _ . 
 
 Sempromus, J [Mr. John J. Burke 
 
 Ventidius, one of Timon 's false friends 
 
 Mr. Wm. Carruthers 
 
 Apemantus, a churlish philosopher. .Mr. Ernest Warde 
 Flavius, steward to Timon Mr. Horace Porter 
 
 Flaminius 1 _. , fMr. D. C. Percival 
 
 _ ... I Timon 's servants J__ _, ., ~ . 
 
 Lucilius J [Mr. R. C. Carvel 
 
 Alcibiades, an Athenian General. . .Mr. Brig-ham Royce 
 
 An Old Athenian Mr. H. C. Barton 
 
 A Poet Mr. Arthur E. Hohl 
 
 A Painter Mr. Holland Hudson 
 
 A Merchant Mr. R. W. Bruner 
 
 A Jeweler Mr. Joseph Eendal 
 
 A Senator of Athens Mr. Joseph Knudstone 
 
 Two Other Senators . .Messrs. Wheatley and Meagerson 
 
 Two Thieves Messrs. Fenton and Young 
 
 Two Strangers in Athens. . . .Messrs. Bassill and Knight 
 Servant to Ventidius Mr. Henry Travers 
 
 Titus 
 
 Hortensius 
 
 Varro 
 
 Lucius 
 
 Isadore 
 
 Servants to Timon 's 
 Creditors 
 
 Mr. Bruner 
 Mr. Hohl 
 Mr. Burke 
 
 Mr. Kendall 
 Mr. G. Bennett 
 
 First Soldier Mr. Burnett 
 
 Page Miss Marie Naskow 
 
 Philotus Miss Sylvia Ratcliff 
 
 Cupid Miss Gerta J. Sutherland
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 301 
 
 Timandral _ . , -.,.,., fMiss Olive Thorne 
 _, ^Friends of Alciabiades -{ __. __ . _. 1A 
 
 Phryma J [Miss Helen Hilton 
 
 Ladies of Athens, Dancers, Guests of Timon, etc., etc. 
 SYNOPSIS OF SCENERY. 
 
 ACT 1. 
 
 Scene 1. A room in Tim on 's House in Athens. 
 Scene 2. Timon 's Banquet Hall. 
 
 ACT 2. 
 
 Scene 1. Room in Timon 's House. 
 Scene 2. A street in Athens, with view of the Acropo- 
 lis. 
 Scene 3. Room in Timon 's House, as before. 
 
 ACT 3. 
 Timon 's Banquet Hall. 
 
 ACT 4. 
 
 Scene 1. Another room in Timon 's House. 
 Scene 2. The woods near Athens. Timon 's Cave. 
 (Summer.) 
 
 ACT 5. 
 The woods and cave, as before. (Late Autumn.) 
 
 The performance was in all respects admirable. 
 The company played their parts with exceptional 
 ability. My son Ernest realized Apemantus, the 
 old crabbed philosopher and Mr. Horace Porter, 
 Arthur E. Hohl and Leopold Lane gave sterling 
 performances of their several parts, but to my 
 great disappointment Timon of Athens did not 
 arouse the interest I had confidently anticipated. 
 
 The public admired the beauty of the produc- 
 tion but could find no sympathy for Timon, who 
 bestowed his wealth so foolishly.
 
 302 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 The play was unfamiliar to the Shakespeare 
 clubs, unknown to the general public and did not 
 attract students of literature. 
 
 As an instance of the general ignorance of the 
 play: an acquaintance met me with the greeting, 
 "Well, Warde, I see you have a southern play this 
 season." I asked his meaning. ' 'Why, Timon of 
 Athens," he replied. He thought the play was lo- 
 cated at Athens in the state of Georgia. 
 
 An intelligent compositor on a certain news- 
 paper set up the title of the play in the advertise- 
 ment as "Timothy of Athens," and so it appeared. 
 He evidently thought the play was Irish. 
 
 In the sanguine hope that these conditions might 
 improve, I continued tHe presentation of Timon 
 for several weeks at a great financial loss, but 
 finally resolved to withdraw it and substitute 
 Julius Csesar. My company was adequate to the 
 cast of Csssar, and it was no great task to change 
 the Athenian to Roman scenery: so the streets of 
 Athens became the streets of Rome and Timon's 
 banqueting hall was transformed into the Senate 
 House. 
 
 My son, Ernest, had made great progress in his 
 profession and I entrusted him with the part of 
 Cassius. He more than justified my confidence. 
 I played Brutus, and it made quite an unique con- 
 dition of which I was very proud: Father and son 
 as Brutus and Cassius. 
 
 The substitution of Julius Csesar for Timon of 
 Athens changed the aspect of affairs. Csesar is 
 one of the most popular of Shakespeare's plays,
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 303 
 
 familiar to all, giving an efficient company of 
 actors opportunities to appear to great advantage. 
 It has a strong appeal in its magnitude of man- 
 hood and patriotic sentiment: and our tour con- 
 tinued with gratifying success till the middle of 
 the following June, completing a season of thirty- 
 seven weeks. 
 
 Walter Browne's symbolic play, "Every- 
 woman," had been produced in New York and 
 achieved a great success. Mr. Henry W. Savage 
 desired to send it to the other large cities of the 
 country with as distinguished a cast as in New 
 York, and made me a very flattering offer to play 
 the part of "Nobody." I hesitated for some time 
 as I was then in the West and had no opportunity 
 to see the play or learn the nature of the part, but 
 on my return to New York and after witnessing 
 the performance, I accepted the invitation. 
 
 It was a most satisfactory and delightful en- 
 gagement from every point of view. My associ- 
 ates in the company were men and women of dis- 
 tinction who had won their places in public favor 
 by artistic achievement and sustained them by 
 conscientious devotion to their work, notably: 
 Miss Marie Wainwright, who played the part of 
 "Truth." 
 
 Some years before gallantry forbids me to say 
 how many I had played Romeo to the lady's 
 Juliet on her professional debut at Booth's Thea- 
 tre, New York, and it was indeed a pleasure to be 
 again professionally associated, not only as old 
 and valued friends, but with an accomplished ar-
 
 304 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE -BELIEVE 
 
 tist who grasped her character with the convinc- 
 ing impress of cultured intelligence and delivered 
 her lines with a refined enunciation that empha- 
 sized their significance and made their meaning 
 clear. 
 
 "Everywoman" was played by a delightful 
 actress and a charming and beautiful woman, Miss 
 Jane Oaker, who realized both in appearance and 
 acting the ideal of the author. 
 
 A pretty little lady, Miss Dorothy Phillips, 
 played the part of Modesty with a dainty grace 
 that was irresistibly attractive. She is now 
 prominently featured as a moving picture star, 
 but none of her admirable work upon the screen 
 can eradicate the memory of the sweet simplicity 
 of her acting as Modesty in "Every woman." 
 
 Nestor Lennon, an actor of sterling ability and 
 ripe experience, played "Wealth." Mr. Lennon 
 has since passed to the great beyond; but his 
 genial personality, pleasant companionship and 
 unfailing good humor is still a gentle memory. 
 
 The "Everywoman" company under the man- 
 agement of Mr. Savage was one of the most com- 
 plete and perfectly conducted organizations with 
 which I had ever been associated and our entire 
 tour was a personal and professional pleasure. 
 
 A deeply pathetic interest attached to the play. 
 The author, Walter Browne, for years a struggling 
 journalist, had originally written the play as a sa- 
 tirical burlesque. It had been submitted to and 
 was rejected by several managers. A friend in- 
 duced him to reconstruct it in a serious vein: the
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 305 
 
 result was a symbolic play of modern human life 
 and its experiences founded on the plan of the old 
 Morality plays. 
 
 It was accepted, produced with generous elab- 
 oration by Mr. Henry W. Savage and was an in- 
 stantaneous success: but as the sound of the ap- 
 plause of the audience, confirming that fact, filled 
 the theatre, the mortal spirit of Walter Browne 
 passed away at his home, and he died in ignorance 
 of the triumph he had achieved. 
 
 It is, however, a pleasure to record that through 
 the generosity of Mr. Savage, his surviving family 
 still enjoy the substantial results of his work. 
 
 Moving pictures had become a very popular 
 form of public entertainment and many prominent 
 actors had followed the example of Madame Sarah 
 Bernhardt and acted plays in which they had ap- 
 peared, before the camera. 
 
 A company had been incorporated to present 
 Shakespeare's tragedy of Richard the Third in 
 pictures and I was selected to play the Duke of 
 Gloster. 
 
 Richard the Third had been one of the popular 
 plays in my repertoire for many years. I had 
 played Gloster frequently and the idea of record- 
 ing it by moving photography interested me 
 greatly. 
 
 An unoccupied estate on City Island, New York, 
 was the location of our labors. There the Tower 
 of London, Guildhall and other historic buildings 
 were reproduced, and the charming landscapes of
 
 306 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 Westchester County served as the green fields of 
 midland England. 
 
 I found the action of the camera necessitated en- 
 tirely different methods of acting from the stage. 
 Spontaneity must be replaced by deliberation and 
 concentrated expression take the place of words. 
 I had much to learn and considerable to unlearn 
 but the director and photographer were very con- 
 siderate, although my ignorance of the necessities 
 of the camera must have tried their patience al- 
 most to the limit. 
 
 Many vexatious yet humorous incidents oc- 
 curred. A picture of Gloster's ride from Tewkes- 
 bury to London was required. Most of the roads 
 in Westchester county are flanked by telegraph 
 and telephone poles. That would not do for Eng- 
 land in the fifteenth century, but our director dis- 
 covered a lane that had not been disfigured by 
 modern utilities, and would serve the purpose. A 
 negative was taken, but a refractory horse made 
 several retakes necessary; however, we finally se- 
 cured a very good picture only to find on examina- 
 tion, a modern nursemaid wheeling a baby car- 
 riage, with two small children, had come into the 
 background unseen by the director but largely in 
 evidence on the screen. 
 
 In spite of many discouraging conditions, the 
 picture was completed and my first appearance in 
 moving pictures was voted a success. 
 
 An Orientally beautiful and picturesque comedy 
 called, "A Thousand Years Ago," by Percy 
 Mackaye, a poet of distinction, and a son of the
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 307 
 
 late Steele Mackaye, was produced in New York 
 and ran for some weeks. It was a very unique and 
 artistic production. I played the Emperor of 
 China, and accompanied the play to Providence, 
 Boston, Albany and Philadelphia. Miss Rita Joli- 
 vet, Mr. Cooper Cliffe, Jerome Patrick and Franlj: 
 McCormack were in the cast. The attendance, 
 however, was not in proportion to the heavy ex- 
 pense of the production and the play was discon- 
 tinued. 
 
 The moving picture industry was growing rap- 
 idly. Mr. Edwin Thanhouser, president of the 
 Thanhouser Film corporation of New Rochelle, 
 made me the offer of a year's engagement to ap- 
 pear in a number of pictures under the direction of 
 my son, who had become quite an efficient director. 
 The offer was liberal, the association exceedingly 
 pleasant and the results very satisfactory. 
 
 We made pictures of Shakespeare's tragedy of 
 King Lear, George Eliot's novel of Silas Marner, 
 Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield and several mod- 
 ern subjects, all of which were popular successes. 
 The leading characters gave me an opportunity to 
 utilize the experience of so many years upon the 
 stage, while the liberality of the management and 
 skill of the director enabled me to appear at the 
 best advantage, and the work that at first was not 
 entirely to my liking became agreeable as the pos- 
 sibilities of the camera became apparent. 
 
 America's interest in the European war had de- 
 veloped a large number of plays on the subject. 
 Among them a comedy-drama called "Over
 
 308 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 There." It had quite a run in New York and was 
 then sent "en tour" with an advertised quin- 
 tette of stars: Miss Mary Shaw, Miss Pauline 
 Lord, Miss Amelia Bingham, Mr. Thomas W. 
 Ross and myself. Our tour took us to the South, 
 where we met with great success until we were 
 halted by the epidemic of Spanish influenza and all 
 theatres and places of public assemblage were 
 closed. We were practically quarantined in San 
 Antonio, Texas, for four weeks until the theatres 
 were permitted to reopen. Then we resumed our 
 tour, but shortly thereafter the armistice was de- 
 clared, the war was won and our play had no 
 longer any significance and we closed the season. 
 
 Finding myself at liberty I decided to gratify a 
 desire to again visit California. Mrs. Warde and 
 I went to Los Angeles, where we had many warm 
 and sincere friends. 
 
 I had scarcely arrived and my presence in the 
 city become known when I was approached by a 
 representative of John McGroarty, author of "The 
 Mission Play," and invited to appear as Junipero 
 Serra in the forthcoming annual production at 
 San Gabriel. 
 
 "The Mission Play" is a dramatized story of 
 the early settlement of California by the Francis- 
 can Fathers from Mexico; their struggles and suf- 
 ferings, the establishment of the Missions, the con- 
 version of the Indians and the development of the 
 country from San Francisco to the Mexican bor- 
 der. The author, John McGroarty, is a journalist 
 a poet; a man of sincere faith and firm convic-
 
 FIFTY YEARS OF MAKE-BELIEVE 309 
 
 tions that are expressed with beauty and imagina- 
 tion. His heart and soul are reflected in "The 
 Mission Play." I do not think I ever read a 
 manuscript that made such a deep impression 
 upon me as this simple, unconventional, dramatic 
 composition. 
 
 The supreme dignity of a spiritual purpose that 
 dominates physical weakness and overcomes mate- 
 rial obstacles is woven into a picturesque histor- 
 ical romance that awakens the interest, exalts the 
 imagination and gratifies the senses by the beauty 
 of its environment. 
 
 The part of Junipero Serra appealed to me with 
 a force I had not felt since I studied the charac- 
 ter of King Lear, and I eagerly grasped the oppor- 
 tunity to vitalize into being this great priest, hero 
 and martyr. 
 
 The character is so completely sympathetic and 
 full of dramatic possibilities there is little credit 
 due for my success, but I will confess that I felt 
 particularly gratified when John McGroarty pub- 
 licly announced that when he was writing the play 
 I was in his mind for the part. 
 
 "The Mission Play" is an annual production. 
 In 1919 it ran for fifteen consecutive weeks. It is 
 acted in the unique and picturesque Mission Play 
 House, especially constructed for the purpose in 
 the very shadow of the old San Gabriel Mission, 
 on ground where the sandaled feet of the old 
 Franciscan Fathers often trod. 
 
 The bells they hung one hundred and fifty years 
 ago in the Mission belfry are still there and call
 
 310 PIFTY YEARS OP MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 the worshipers to Matins and to Vespers as the 
 story of their lives and work is presented by mod- 
 ern actors to modern visitors by the art of paint- 
 ing, the beauty of poetry and the power of the 
 greatest of all arts, the drama. 
 
 
 
 And this brings us down to the present day 
 through "Pifty Years of Make Believe." 
 
 I have used the personal pronoun so frequently 
 in the preceding pages that it is with some hesita- 
 tion I resume it in a parting word. 
 
 I have told the story in my own way. The ob- 
 ject has been to gratify the expressed wish of 
 many friends. Of my success they, and you, my 
 friend the reader, must be the judges. 
 
 It is a plain unvarnished tale of a life's drama 
 that happily is not yet ended. New scenes will be 
 set, new incidents occur and new characters ap- 
 pear before the last word is spoken and the final 
 curtain falls. 
 
 So, good friend, as we have come so far together, 
 for fifty years is quite a lengthy journey even in 
 the land of so-called Make-Believe let us not end 
 our friendship here. 
 
 If Summer's gone there still are many Autumn 
 days before the snows of Winter fall. 
 
 On Autumn evenings golden sunsets glow and 
 waken memories that renew the joys of Spring. 
 
 Then let our parting be as on an Autumn eve, 
 a memory to be cherished until we meet again.
 
 The Romance of 
 
 American Petroleum 
 
 and Gas 
 
 First Volume Completed 
 Second Volume on the Press 
 Third Volume in Preparation 
 
 The Standard work on the Great American 
 Oil Fields and of the Outstanding Figures 
 in the Industry. 
 
 An interesting History of the Nation's 
 most Fascinating and Profitable Product. 
 
 Of particular interest to Oil-men, Scien- 
 tists, Libraries and the Press. 
 
 ROMANCE OF AMERICAN PETRO- 
 LEUM AND GAS COMPANY 
 
 (M. M. MARCY, MANAGER) 
 TRIBUNE BUILDING, NEW YORK CITY.
 
 The 
 
 Story of Electricity 
 
 The distinguished electrical journalists, 
 
 T. Commerford Martin 
 and Stephen L. Coles 
 
 have each spent a quarter of a century 
 in this field of literary work. 
 
 The Story of Electricity, the first 
 volume of which is now complete, is a 
 product of their combined experiences, 
 as well as a number of other able writers. 
 
 The work is a practical history of the 
 science of electricity and of the famous 
 men and pioneers in that field. 
 
 Six hundred pages of type and one hun- 
 dred and fifty full page plates. 
 
 Electrical Men, Scientists and Libraries 
 will find it of much value. 
 
 THE STORY OF ELECTRICITY CO. 
 
 (M. M. MARCY, MANAGER) 
 TRIBUNE BUILDING. NEW YORK CITY.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY, LOS ANGELES 
 
 COLLEGE LIBRARY 
 
 This book is due on the last date stamped below. 
 
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