LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA RIVERSIDE ,^7^ ^^ /^^r^^y^ -^ ^^ «^ y^iy ^ I! () y E l> A Y O y L Y . TUESDAY. DECEMBER 30th, AT TWO O'CLOCK. A.N KNTIKEI.V .NEW .'\ND OKIGINAI, By Messrs. W. S. GILBERT and ARTHUR SULLIVAN, entitled THE PIRATES OF PENZANCE, OR I^OYE AND DUTY Being its first production in any country. .Mk. RICH.^RD .\1.-\NSFIELD Mr. FEDERICI Mr. CADW.-^LADR Mah K-Gt ERAL... The Frei PiRAT E Kino (a Pirate) Ruth (Fredericl<'s Nun ACT I. ACT 11. Mb. BILLINGTON Miss PETRELLI Miss MAY Miss K. NEVILLE Miss MONMOUTH Miss l-'ANNY HARRISON Sofa Stalls, 3 - ; Second Seats, 2/- ; Area, i - ; Gallery, 6d. TICKETS TO BE HAD AT THE GERSTON HOTEL. Conductor, .Mr. Ralph Hornkr. .Acting Manager, .Mr. Herrkri Bkuok. PLAYBILL 0¥ "THE PIRATES OF PENZANCE" ACTS IN LONDON 47 mingham, Leeds, Newcastle, and Edinburgh, singing and acting in "Pinafore," "The Pirates of Pen- zance," and as J. Wellington Wells, in "The Sorcerer." In 1881 he returned to London and obtained an engagement at the Globe Theatre, appearing there, April 16, as Coquehert, in the comic opera of "La Boulangere," adapted from the French by Mr. H. B. Farnie. That piece failed, notwith- standing that the music for it had been composed by Offenbach. It was in this opera that Mansfield first introduced his clever comic imitation of a quarrel between representative singers, — prima- donna, tenor, and bass, — an expert, ludicrous, feHci- tous satire, which, elaborated and pohshed, he sub- sequently used with excellent effect, in the play of "Prince Karl." On October 8, 1881, he appeared at the Royalty Theatre, under the management of Mr. Alexander Henderson, acting Monsieur Phillipe, in a play called "Out of the Hunt" adapted by Messrs. R. Reece and T. Thorpe, from the French original, "Les Demoiselles de Montfermeil," by MM. Theodore Barriere and Victor Bernard. On November 12, at the same theatre, he acted Her- bert Colwyn, in "Dust," Mr. Sydney Grundy's adaptation of the French play of "Le Point de Mire," by MM. Labiche and Delacour. Both those plays were failures, the latter having been acted 48 LIFE OF MANSFIELD only seven times. On December 26 a play called "The Fisherman's Daughter," by Mr. Charles Gar- vice, was produced at the Royalty Theatre, and Mansfield acted in it, as Old Sherman, — among his professional associates then being Frederick A. Everill, one of the most accomplished and pro- ficient of the actors of that period, whom it was a privilege to see and whom it is a pleasure to remem- ber. With the Royalty Theatre Mansfield con- tinued to be associated until April, 1882, when he went to the Comedy Theatre, to play a minor part in M. Audran's bright opera of "The Mascotte," with which that house had been opened, on October 15, 1881. Adverting to Mr. Farnie and JNIr. Hen- derson, with whom he had been associated at the Globe and at the Royalty, Mansfield, long after- ward, talking with me, expressed strong aversion, and it is not improbable that those persons con- siderably contributed to the discomfort of his pro- fessional experience when he was striving to make his way in London at that time. In the summer of 1882, acting on the advice of his staunch friend, Eben D. Jordan, he left London and estab- lished his residence in New York. On September 27, that year, he appeared at the Standard Theatre (afterward the Manhattan, demolished in 1909) as DromeZj in "Les Manteaux Noirs," and on Si^ h^4^ ^^ . ^^' ^' ^^ MANSFIELD AS SIB JOSEPH PORTER From a Pen and Ink Sketch by Himself NEW YORK AT LAST 49 October 28, on the same stage, he appeared as Nick Tedder and as Jan Vedder, in a musical version of the old play of "Rip Van Winkle." Later he was seen, in those characters, in Philadelphia. On December 18 he acted in Baltimore, appearing as the Lord Chancellor, in the opera of "lolanthe." On December 20 he repaired to New York and joined the stock company of the Union Square Theatre, where, as already mentioned, he suddenly flashed upon pubKc attention as an actor of excep- tional power, in the part of Chevrial. From that time until nearly the end of his life he remained in the almost continuous practice of his profession. III. 1883 TO 1888. Mansfield's success as Chevrial was decisive, yet it did not promote his rapid advancement. "A Parisian Romance" held the stage of the Union Square Theatre till April 7, 1883, v^^hen it was taken on a tour of the country. The season closed on May 26, in Boston, and Mansfield went to Eng- land, where he passed the summer. On September 10, having rejoined Mr. Palmer's company, he appeared in San Francisco, acting there for the first time, still in the part of Chevrial, The farcical play of "French Flats" was there produced, on September 20, and in that he acted Rifflardini. IMansfield told me that, later, in Chicago, by private arrangement with another player, he introduced into that performance the "business," — long afterward effectively used by him in "Beau Brummell," — of receiving from another hand several letters, in suc- cession, smelling of each letter, commenting crisply on the respective perfumes exhaled by those missives, and, finally, saying to his interlocutor: "I don't know what that one is, but it's very unpleasant; you 50 OFFENDS STODDART 51 may read them yourself." The introduction of that comic "business" without notice except to one actor who was in the scene with him, wliile it made his auditors laugh, gave annoyance to some of his pro- fessional associates, and especially to the older and more prominent comedian, James H. Stoddart, who, indeed, formally objected to the innovation, depre- cating both the irregularity of its employment and the undue prominence that Mansfield obtained by it. In the autumn of 1883 Mansfield left the Union Square Theatre Company, bought the rights to "A Parisian Romance," organized a company, and, on December 6, began his first "starring tour," appear- ing at the Park Theatre, Newark, New Jersey. In that venture he was partly sustained by his friend Eben D. Jordan. He did not succeed, how- ever, and his attempt was soon abandoned. His next appearance was made at the Madison Square Theatre, New York, January 31, 1884, in a senti- mental comedy by Mr. H. H. Boyesen, called "Alpine Roses," — the love story of two blooming peasant girls, resident in the mountains of the Tyrol. IMansfield acted an adventurous nobleman, the Count von Dornfeldt, who, like the sailor in Dibdin's song, felt "How happy I could be with either, were t'other dear charmer away!" That play lasted till April 10. His proceedings during the rest of that year were 52 LIFE OF MANSFIELD merely nomadic. On December 18 Lester Wallack produced, at Wallack's Theatre, a play by Henry Guy Carleton, called "Victor Durand," and on January 15, 1885, succeeding Mr. Lewis Morrison, Mansfield appeared in it, as Baron de Mersac, — a maladroit rascal, who imperils his safety by his irra- tional conduct. Mansfield contrived to personate him in such a way as to suggest sensible motive and in a specious, plausible manner, and commended him to sympathy by making him the sincere, impas- sioned, desperate lover of a woman by whom he is detested. "Victor Durand" held the stage at Wal- lack's till February 14. Leaving Wallack's com- pany, Mansfield then joined a comic opera troupe, giving performances at the Standard Theatre, where he appeared as Nasoni, in "Gasparone." In the spring of 1885 he again visited London, and on June 22 he there participated, at the Princess's Theatre, in a private performance of "Gringoire," acting King Louis XI. On September 15 the Lyceum Theatre, in Fourth Avenue, New York, was opened, under the management of that erratic, enthusiastic genius and remarkable man, James Steele Mackaye (1842-1894) with a drama, adapted from a French original, Sardou's "Andrea," entitled "In Spite of All." Miss Minnie Maddern, now (1909) Mrs. Harrison Grey Fiske, finely personated IN BOSTON AGAIN 53 the heroine of it, and Mansfield acted in it, as Herr Kraft, a kindly, eccentric man of the world, whom he made effective by means of half earnest, half playful cynicism. That drama kept the stage till November 6 and it was then taken on a tour. Mansfield left the company in January, 1886, and accepted an engagement to appear, under the man- agement of Mr. John B. Stetson, as Ko-Ko, in "The Mikado," at the Hollis Street Theatre, Bos- ton, where his exuberant humor, combined with his brilliant abihty as a musical artist, gained for him the general admiration and a decided access of popularity. The impersonation of Ko-Ko was many times repeated. During that engagement Mans- field accepted from A. C. Gunter the original draft of the play of "Prince Karl," and in April the first production of that piece was effected at the Boston Museum. Mansfield, meanwhile, had felt disappointed and resentful because the general applause for his per- formance of Baron Chevrial was not immediately followed by a copious increase of practical pros- perity; that is to say, of rapid professional advance- ment and large financial remuneration. His embodi- ment of Chevrial did, as was ine^^table, increase his reputation as an actor: in fact, it marked him as an actor of exceptional abihty and of auspicious 54 LIFE OF MANSFIELD promise. But it is not possible that a permanent popular as well as artistic success, can be gained by the presentment of a character intrinsically repul- sive, lago would not carry the play of "Othello." Admiration is often yielded to expert, powerful embodiments of the theatrical Pescaras, Ludovicos, and Stukeleys, but not sympathy and not love. Many persons interested in dramatic art naturally wished to see Mansfield as Chevrial, because of the emphatic commendation that had been bestowed on the technical ability and startling effect of his performance; but, having once seen him in that part, few, if any, wished to see him in it again. It was not until he had appeared in several other char- acters, and had shown various pleasing and winning aspects of his nature, that he obtained a place, — in so far as he ever did obtain it, — ^in the public heart. That he deserved to obtain it, — ^his complex nature being rich in kindness, gentleness, charity, sympathy, and humanity, — ^there is no ground for doubt. But, while he merited and earnestly craved the affection of the public, he did not largely inspire it. He was loved by those who knew him well, in spite of vexing faults, and because of his intrinsic funda- mental goodness, but he was not taken to the heart of the people as Edwin Booth and Joseph Jefferson were, in America, and as Henry Irving and John PECULIARITIES 55 Lawrence Toole were, in England. ]\Ioreover, it happened that his ultimate choice of principal parts to be represented, — a choice indicative, perhaps, of an inherent temperamental acerbity, — fell often upon characters which are, in general, repellent, — such as GWster, SJiyloch, Hyde, and Ivan, — and it also happened that, in his professional intercourse with actors whom he employed, and also in speeches dehvered before the curtain and remarks published in newspapers, he sometimes evinced irritable temper. His petulance, indeed, was momentary. His resent- ments, generally, were evanescent. His occasional incivihty toward associate actors was not more harsh than that of several of the older wortliies of the Theatre had been. He was not more aggressive and dictatorial, for example, than JNIacready, For- rest, Charles Kean, and Barry Sullivan. His expressions of dissatisfaction relative to the pubUc and the press were never more explicit than those of some of his renowned predecessors in theatrical public life had been, and sometimes they were bet- ter warranted. But, as he lived in an age of mul- titudinous newspapers, when even the smallest of "small beer" was, — as it still is, — conspicuously chronicled, everything that he publicly said or did, together with much that he neither said, nor did, nor ever even thought of saying or doing, was 56 LIFE OF MANSFIELD recorded and circulated, — diffusing, far and wide, an impression that he was continually fractious, combative, sullen, and morose. That was an errone- ous and injurious impression: but it was enter- tained by many persons, and it clouded the popular understanding of him. To the end of his hfe that cloud was not, within his know^ledge, entirely dispelled. His professional identification with grim characters would have been sufficient, in itself, to vitalize such an error. A few of the parts that he plaj^ed are sweet and winning, but most of them, and those especially in which he was most effective, contain more of repulsion than of allurement, and it was in the exposition of wicked power more than in the exercise of pacific charm that he found his advantage and gained liis renown. Thoughtful examination of Mansfield's profes- sional career at once impels inquiry as to the place in dramatic art that should be allotted to tilings that are gruesome or terrible, and opens the old, per- plexing controversy as to artistic use of ugliness and beauty. In the vast, incomprehensible scheme of creation evil appears to be as necessary as good is. If there were not the one there could not be the other. Life is a struggle between good and evil, and it is through the \'ictory of good over evil that everything great and glorious is produced. RICHARD MAXSFIELD IX 1883 From a Rare Photdf/raph in the Collection of Evert Jansen Wendell, Esq. GOOD AND EVIL 57 In what proportion those antagonistic elements ought to be mingled and contrasted, in a work of art, dramatic or otherwise, judgment often finds it difficult to determine. There are, however, cases in which instant decision becomes readily possible. Monstrous and hideous things exist, that ought never to be included or considered in a play for public presentation. When Cornwall plucks out the eyes of Glo'ster and casts them on the ground, exclaiming "Out, vile jelly!" the reader of "King Lear" is repelled with a sickening consciousness of disgusting atrocity: the spectator of such a proceed- ing, seeming to be literal, would be convulsed, not with terror but with loathing. There must be a limit somewhere. Unmitigated horror or mon- strosity is absolutely barren of valuable result. One of the best examples of the wrong use of evil, in a play, is "Titus Andronicus," — that sickening rag of pollution attributed to Shakespeare. One of the best examples of the right use of evil in a play is the melodrama of "The Lyons Mail." Mansfield presented controversial examples, in Jehyll and Hyde, in Ivan, in Rodion, and in Nero; but it was not to be reasonably expected that those present- ments, however finely displayed, would enhst the affection of mankind. The interval between Mansfield's striking achieve- 58 LIFE OF MANSFIELD ment as Chevrial and his more determinate suc- cess as Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, — a period of upwards of four years, extending from January, 1883, to the autumn of 1887, — was one of incessant effort and continuous activity, but it was entirely formative. His fortunes fluctuated, being some- times propitious and sometimes adverse. The part of Prince Karl, which he acted for the first time on April 5, 1886, at the Boston Museum, although he did not highly value it, either then or later, helped to advance him in public favor. From May 3 to August 14, 1886, he acted at the Madison Square Theatre, New York, giving 117 successive per- formances of that part. It was not, however, until he had made a decisive hit with the drama of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" that he gained an authorita- tive position in the broad field of theatrical enter- prise, and at last was able to assert himself in active competition with the potential leaders of the stage. That play was first presented on May 9, 1887, at the Boston Museum, and in the following autumn, after it had undergone severe revision, it was brought out, September 12, at the Madison Square Theatre, New York. Mansfield's New York engagement, that year, began on May 30 and ended on October 1. The opening play was again "Prince Karl," but, though cordially received, it did not continue to be HIS FIRST PLAY 59 remunerative and presently he felt the urgent need of a fresh attraction, — as the following letter, addressed to me at the time, may signify: The Victoria, New York, May 27, 1887. My dear old Friend: — - ... I am afraid I cannot come to you; I wish I could — I need an outing. But I am going to ask another favor of you — I wish you to come to me. In complete despair, and know- ing that I must have a play at once, I have sat down and written one myself — two acts of it at least, and I want your judgment and I must have it. I must see you to-morrow, Satur- day, evening, or on Sunday. Pray do this for me. Perhaps the best way will be to come and dine with me to-morrow or Sun- day, eh.'' Of course I do not intend to let my name be men- tioned in connection with the work, even if you think well of it. Yours always, Richard Mansfield. W. W. The play thus suddenly devised was soon com- pleted, and on July 11 it was acted under the name of "Monsieur," Mansfield appearing in it as Andre de Jadot, and giving a bright, cheery performance, marked by characteristic touches of pathos and humor. He did not lack sympathy and encom'age- ment, in the fulfilment of his task. Victoria Hotel, July 7, 1887. My Dear Winter: — Thank you very much for your kind letter; it cheered me. This weather and the constant strain is telling. I should not 60 LIFE OF MANSFIELD be human were it not so. I am compelled, alas, to produce "Monsieur" next Monday. The people are thoroughly tired of "Prince Karl," and I do not blame them. I have been careful to take your advice and have called the play "a sketch in three acts" — it rehearses fairly well and I think it will hold the boards comfortably until the production of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," after which I hope never to have to return to trash again. Sunday evening next at seven o'clock we are to have our dress rehearsal! how would it suit you to come and see that, and avoid the crowd on Monday? Although, frankly, I would like you to come both on Sunday and Monday. ... It is terribly hard work in this summer weather — this endeavor to draw people into the theatre and when they do come I am astounded at their idiocy — and here I am asking you to do it! Well, at all events, you will know that I appreciate the size of the sacrifice. I have many things I wish to ask you. One is about Henry Dunbar. Try and come up to town, if not Sunday, surely Monday, and stay here afterward for your supper and a bed — you shall have the coolest bed in the house but the warm- est reception. . . . God bless you, dear old man — think of me as dropping, dropping, dropping gradually away and trickling off to join the great sea. Always yours, Richard Mansfield. His intention that the authorship of "Monsieur" should not be made known was soon defeated. There was, indeed, no reason why he should have wished to keep it secret; but it was one of Mans- field's peculiarities that he shunned publicity as author, or even part author, of some of the most not- able and effective works with which, as an actor, his name was associated. The play of "Monsieur," while JEKYLL AND HYDE 61 artificial and improbable, is a clever sketch, and on the occasion of its presentment at the Madison Square Theatre it pleased considerable audiences for more than two months. The Westmoreland^ New York, August 29, 1887. My Dear Winter: — I am sorry you had to run away the other evening, and I am sorry you were not feeling well. I hope it wasn't owing to the moments you spent listening to "Monsieur"? By the way, I have cut out the imbecile monologue — coute que coute, I will never do it again — I hate, loathe, and abhor it! I cannot tell you how much you have cheered me. I hope to see you very soon. Dr. J. & Mr. H. is underlined for the 12th. Yours always, Richard Mansfield. During the period that intervened between the production of "Monsieur," July 11, and the pro- duction of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," the work of revising the latter play and preparing it for presentment largely occupied liis attention. The first draft of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" had been made for him, more or less under his immedi- ate advisement, by Thomas Russell Sullivan. The play had not entirely pleased his audience in Bos- ton, yet he had faith in it and was resolute to push it to a further trial. He earnestly wished and requested that I should advise him as to the re\'ision of it, prior to its presentment in New York, and 62 LIFE OF MANSFIELD various letters on that subject passed between us, and occasionally we met and conferred about it. He was exceedingly anxious at that time, being wishful not only for immediate practical success, — as he was paying rent for the Madison Square Theatre at the rate of $21,000 for four months, — but to build a strong repertory, with a view to the future. Some of his letters are pathetic in the denotement of his restless spirit and perplexed mental condition, and all of them are instructive in their revelation of his character; his variability; his weakness and his strength; and particularly his determination to excel. As the time drew near for the fresh venture with Jekyll and Hyde his anxiety steadily increased: success in that dual per- sonation meant everything to him, for, already, he was meditating an English expedition as well as the American tour. The Westmoreland, August 4, 1887. My Dear Winter: — I sent you a note by messenger yesterday, immediately upon receipt of your kind letter — so as to save you, if possible, the trouble of coming to town. It is strange that as you did come you should have missed me. I was here all the afternoon and it appears you did not call until then — probably the people in this house whom you saw were unacquainted with my name. However, I am very, very sorry not to have seen you. I have been sick, for the last three days, and almost unable to act — the intense heat — the horrible stench from the open roads (what CONTINUAL LABOR 63 an outrage it is !) and the hard work have contributed toward this result. I am absolutely fit for nothing. My new rooms are very pleasant — they are quiet and I am partially obtaining the rest I need. I am wondering now — when shall I see you? No doubt you are disgusted and won't try again. I ought to come to you — but I cannot for I haven't the time; my busi- ness in the morning and my acting at night take up most of my time. Still I should much like to see you, there are so many things I wish to say to you. Yours always, Richard Mansfield. It is indicative of Mansfield's ceaseless activity that the labor of acting and singing at night, revis- ing and rehearsing a new play by day, and attending to miscellaneous business were insufficient to satiate his industry. He now resumed the study of the Emperor Nero, and urged the dramatist whom he had employed to hasten the completion of a play on that character. The Westmoreland, August 16, '87. My Dear Winter: — I hear nothing from you and I am so overworked I cannot come to you — I am compelled to rehearse "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" and to have it ready, for as soon as the active opposi- tion of the reopened theatres commences I may find my patron- age not so large. It is also necessary now for me to play "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" here in September, as I have accepted a fortnight at the Chestnut Street Theatre, in Philadelphia, in October. I shall confine myself to three plays, "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," Chevrial, and "Monsieur," — discarding the stupid "Prince Karl." Russell Sullivan is at work for me, on "Nero." He has 64, LIFE OF MANSFIELD two Italian plays and a French play to assist him. I shall make my Nero largely humorous. I like the character — it affords me an opportunity for just the blending of serious — the tragic and the comic, which I intensely like. Our rehearsals are always at 12.30. What do you say to attending a rehearsal — and we can make such alterations as you suggest the better then — and you too can judge better with the whole thing displayed before you in that way. It is asking a great deal, but it is your own fault if I feel that I can never offend you by asking much from you. Name your own day — and you will understand, of course, that our rehearsals are absolutely private and free from the intrusion of strangers. Always yours, Richard Mansfield. The Westmoreland, August 22, 1887. My Dear Winter: — How have I offended.^ — or have you not received my letter? I have been expecting to hear from you. Remember, do, that this continuous heat — and, alas, my health, have — what shall I say? rendered me almost incapable of anything but the work I am forced to do — and so when I would lihe to come to you I don't. Write to tell me when next you will be in town — spend the day with me — and I will put off rehearsals and all else. You must go over "Dr. Jekyll" with me, and there is so much upon which I need your advice. I am in a horrible state of uncertainty; come to help me out of it — only be sure to send me word when to expect you, so that, for Heaven's sake ! I may not be guilty of missing you again. Pray let me hear from vou at once. »i ^ Always yours, Richard Mansfield. It was at all times difficult to make Mansfield understand that other persons often were heavily ANXIETIES 65 burdened with exacting tasks and compelled to be quite as busy as himself. At the first oppor- tunity, however, I called on him, discussed with him every detail of the play of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," and suggested such changes as seemed desirable. Later I attended a rehearsal of it and wrote to him additional words of counsel and cheer, to which he replied: The Westmoreland, New York, September 2, 1887. My Dear Winter: — Thank you for your kind letter, and thank you again for coming over here to listen to a dreary rehearsal. Your opinion has encouraged me immensely and I have not felt down- hearted since. I have made the changes and adopted the sug- gestions you make in your letter. Even I have cast Miss Kate Rogers for the old hag Rebecca Moore. Emma Sheridan is still too weak to work. . . . It is quite impossible for me to play Dr. J. & Mr. H. next Saturday, simply because the scenic artists, although employing extra hands, can barely be ready by Monday. The Dress Rehearsal will be on Sunday Evening, and if you care to come and accept a bed and all else here, you know how truly welcome you will be ! God bless you, and believe me Sincerely and always gratefully yours, Richard Mansfield. But his anxiety was not allayed. Troubles seemed to accumulate. The necessity continued for vigilant thought and strenuous toil. The summer weather 6Q LIFE OF MANSFIELD was oppressive and exasperating. The members of his theatrical company, as he satirically advised me, were as nervous as himself, finding frequent occa- sion to antagonize each other; so that the time of preparation for a peculiarly critical ordeal was anything but tranquil. He made no secret of his discontent : The Westmoreland, New York, Wednesday. My Dear Winter: — Another kind note from you. I need it. I am really worn out. Why are there no competent stage people in this country? The stage management — the every detail of the production — even to the purchase of trifles, I have to attend to myself! I am utterly worn out — for I was tired before I commenced the summer season. Pray for me! Yes, do come to the Dress Rehearsal, if you feel like it. Kate Rogers did not turn out well as the hag, Rebecca, and I have had to change back again. Harkins is unteachable — he does what you suggest for a moment, but falls back into his own style the next. As for myself! — expect little from me but hard, hard work, for the present. I shall do the best I can under the circumstances, but my best will be far short of my own ideal. Let me know when to expect you. Always yours, Richard Mansfield. One incident of a humorous character chanced, at this time, to intervene, slightly diversifying the monotonous complexion of care and strife. Robert Louis Stevenson was in New York in the sum- mer of 1887, and I learned from Mansfield that "A BAD COLD" 67 each of them made several ineffectual attempts to see the other. "It happened that he was not at home when I called on him," said Mansfield, "and it happened that I was not at home when he called on me. At last, one day, I was fortunate, as I thought. I sent in my name, and a person whom I understood to be Mr. Stevenson's adopted son presently appeared, and, after the customary exchange of civilities, said that Mr. Stevenson wished to know whether I had a cold, because, if I had, he could not venture to see me. I told him to tell Mr. Stevenson, with my kindest regards, that I had an exceedingly bad cold, which I should be most happy to communicate to him, and so took my leave. We did not meet. Later I heard that Mr. Stevenson had promptly left town — probably to escape infection, — and me!" That incident is characteristic of Mansfield's eccentricity, but no words can express the humor with which he related it. The following letter, after mention of friendly counsel as to the production of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," then imminent, refers to that occurrence: My Dear Winter: — How am I to thank you for your kindness to me ? ! I will do my best to follow your advice, the wisdom of which I thoroughly appreciate. You are the only man I can turn to 68 LIFE OF MANSFIELD for such help. It is impossible to do quite what you say, for I can only depend upon myself for stage-management. I have not seen Mr. Stevenson and I do not know him. An acquaintance of his called at the theatre and asked for seats for his (Stevenson's) wife and sister, for the first night of Dr. J. & Mr. H., and said that Stevenson had instantly left town. It seems, however, that he is a great friend of Mr. Henley's — a man I do not think I should care for. When are you com- ing over? Sunday.'' Yours always, Richard Mansfield. The production of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" was accomplished on September 12, with gratifying success. Pubhc applause was abundant, and, in general, the press was favorable, in some cases even to the extent of enthusiasm. The fulfilment of my professional duty on the occasion, although a seri- ous task, was an agreeable one, because it is always pleasant to see merit rewarded with recognition, to give praise where praise is due, and to contribute, though ever so little, to the encouragement of worthy endeavor and high ambition. The feelings of the actor, were, naturally, animated, and he was quick to express them. The Westmoreland, Tuesday. My Dear Winter: — How am I to thank you and what can I say ? ! ! ! How splendidly you have proved your kindness and your friend- ship ! Such a criticism — such a magnificent review of my effort Photoyraph by J. yotman, Boston ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON WEARINESS 69 to please you above all others, is ample payment for all the work of latter years — it wipes out all disappointments and bit- terness and above all it encourages — it fortifies me — it makes me feel that with more hard work in the right direction (and I do not think you will permit me to go off on the wrong track) — I may ultimately succeed. I need hardly tell you what you know and what you meant! that you have to-day done more for me than any other man alive could do. You have my heartfelt gratitude and my absolute devotion. I must see you and speak with you; when and where shall it be? Yours affectionately and gratefully, Richard Mansfield. I understood that you could not come last night and yet I waited until three o'clock ! Name some night this week and come to supper — it is the best meal, after all! The work is done and we draw nearer together. The first run of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" in New York lasted only from September 12 to October 1, when his season ended. The weather was exceedingly hot, and Mansfield suffered much from the heat and from the severe strain imposed on his nervous system by acting the dual part. His impersonation of Hyde, upon which, at that time, he customarily expended a disproportionate volume of physical exertion, greatly exhausted him. Also his mind was busy with new subjects, and he never rested, — either then or at any time, much as he longed for rest, and often as he spoke of it. Here is an example of the fevered condition in which he lived and labored, throughout this trying period. 70 LIFE OF MANSFIELD 226 Fifth Avenue, New York. My Dear Winter: — Will you name a day (that's a funny way to begin a letter!), when you think you will have the time and the inclination to run over "Dr. J. & Mr. H." with me.'' Try and make it soon, for I must rehearse my people. I have made the alterations you suggested in the First Act of "Monsieur," and have also attended to the changes in wig, dress, etc. I cannot tell you how very glad I am for any suggestions from you. What do you say to a week's yachting? I could charter a yacht, and join it after the play, stay aboard during the day — what do you say? I am run down — nervous — irritable — tired, — in fact wretched: it would be wonderful were it other- wise, with this strain upon me, and this terrible heat — what do you say.'' Shall I charter a comfortable yacht, and will you join me for a week.'' Write and tell me at once. And advise me. Yours always, Richard Mansfield. His statement of his condition was not exagger- ated, — as this letter clearly indicates; and I think that the inducements offered to join a pleasure trip are among the most peculiar ever named! The Westmoreland, New York, September 22, '87. My Dear Winter: — The Doctor warns me that I am threatened with a nervous disease, likely to endanger my life! I cannot say that I care much — and in fact I have always shown such remarkable ability to recover from any drain upon my system, after a few weeks of rest, that I have no doubt I shall give the Doctor the lie. However, this "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" is a disagreeable nightmare to me just now, and when evening comes I assure DAY DREAMS 71 you I am anything but happy. There can be no doubt that just at present I am in a very nervous condition. We must be able to change the bill often — but with dignity and credit to ourselves — and I feel that "Monsieur/' although well enough at the time, is not the thing. I must see you and consult with you over many matters. You know I have absolutely no one — no one but you — I am forced to appeal to you in all matters of importance. Can you come to town and if so what evening? When "Nero" is finished shall we work it over together, and then will you take a trip to the other side with me and help me.'* It would be delightful and I have set my heart upon it. We will take a couple of months or so and knock about Eng- land. We'll go to the places you love best, we'll see the best men in London likely to make the proper designs for us, for the dresses, scenery, and engage the proper people. All this is in your line and mine and we'll return strong and well and with something worthy. What do you say.'* In the meanwhile what can I play that will rest me and yet be good.'' Some- thing bright, light, airy, exquisite — not necessarily modern? Let me know when to expect you. Your sincere and grateful friend, Richard Mansfield. Mansfield had determined to win the highest possible rank in his profession and he was now concentrating the forces of his mind, and all the concurrent intellectual and social aids that he could attract, upon the accomplishment of that purpose. His summer season had increased his prestige. In October he began a tour of the country, in order to earn the money necessary for the prosecution of his higher designs. The parts upon wliich he relied were Clievrial, Prince Karl, Andre de Jadot, 72 LIFE OF MANSFIELD and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde; but he had resolved on acting Nero^ he had already thought of adopting Shylock, and, secretly, he was study- ing Glo'steVj with a view to a splendid revival of "Richard III." The struggle now began in earnest, wliich was to grow more and more bitter, and was to end only, after many victories and defeats, in premature death. No observer will rightly appreciate Mansfield's formidable character, intellectual power, and persistent, tremendous labor, who omits to consider the theatrical conditions by which he was then confronted and the obstacles among which and over which he was obliged to make his way. The tide of dramatic affairs, which, since about 1860, had been slowly rising, in both Great Britain and the United States, was, in that period, as high as it had ever been, or, probably, as it ever will be. Actors of the highest order were visible, in consid- erable number, on both sides of the Atlantic. The standard of taste was severe. The public, accus- tomed to superior acting, was so exigent that even exceptional ability, being generally deemed a mat- ter of course, attracted no unusual attention. Com- mercial opportunity was ample, but the obtain- ment of specific recognition was difficult, — far more so than it is to-day. Competition was keen and A GOLDEN TIME 73 rivalry was fierce. The record of the period glows with illustrious names. Edwin Booth and Lawrence Barrett had joined their powers and were acting greatly, in great plays. Augustin Daly's star was at its zenith. His superb revival of "The Taming of the Shrew," with the regal Ada Rehan as Katherine, had been followed by his beautiful production of "A Midsummer Night's Dream," in which that great actress dignified the part of Helena, in association with the noble veteran Charles Fisher, and the delicate, exquisite comedian James Lewis. Henry Irving and Ellen Terry, attended by a superb company, now in America and now in Great Britain, were on the golden crest of success, with one of the most varied and opulent repertories ever formed, — including "Macbeth," "The Merchant of Venice," "Faust," "OHvia," "Charles L," "The Dead Heart," "Louis XL," "The Bells," and "The Lyons Mail." The lovely Helena Mod- jeska, in the noon of her genius and beauty, now alone and now in association with Edwin Booth, was charming all eyes by her refined and finished interpretations of some of Shakespeare's loveliest and greatest women, and also was exerting her magnetic charm to chasten and exalt the sentimental drama of France. Jefferson and Florence, great comedians both, and, in alhance, illustrative of a 74 LIFE OF MANSFIELD wide variety of talent and a wonderful depth of feeling and opulence of humor, were cooperating, in a performance of "The Rivals" which was supremely delightful. Mary Anderson, at the sum- mit of her bright career, filHng her tliird English engagement at Irving's Lyceum, had, with Hermi- one and Perdita, charmed great assemblies in Lon- don, and afterward also in her native land. Gene- vieve Ward, acting Stephanie de Mohrivart, had exemplified, in comedy, an art that rivalled the white gleam of ivory, the strength of steel, and the glitter of the diamond. The inventive, expert, restless, vivacious spirit of Dion Boucicault flamed in many places, like Ariel on the haunted ship. Mrs. Bowers, with her facile art, passionate tem- perament, and strangely seductive voice, and Fanny Janauschek, the incarnation of massive tragic power, had made actual the great queens of a storied past, so that Elizabeth Tudor, Catharine of Rus- sia, and Mary Stuart lived again. The great Italian actor Tomasso Salvini was traversing America, and everywhere impressing the general mind by his tremendous personality and superlative dramatic power, in Saul, Samson, Conrad, Ingomar, and Niger, the Gladiator. Other accompHshed and famous Continental actors, — Constant Coquelin, Jane Hading, Possart, Barney, and Hedwig Nie- PlKjtoijraph by Lock ami Whitfield, London TOMMASO.SALVIXI AS OTHELLO HEIRS OF FAME 75 mann Raabe, — ^were repeating or excelling, on the American stage, the triumphs they had gained at home. The handsome, sparkling Fanny Davenport, the strange, nervous, febrile Clara Morris, and the dashing Rose Coghlan were in full career and wide popularity. That perfect comedian John Gilbert, — not in our day surpassed, if ever equalled, in his particular line, — was variously visible, sometimes in "The Abbe Constantin," sometimes in " The School for Scandal," or, with Jefferson and Florence, in "The Rivals." Daly had effected his magnificent revival of "As You Like It," and Ada Rehan was giving the most brilliant performance of Rosalind that our stage has known. The British Theatre had sent to America Charles Coghlan, and Mrs. Lang- try, Mr. and Mrs. Kendal, Wilson Barrett, — acting in "Claudian" and in "The Silver King,"— and the consummate artist Charles Wyndham, acting in "Wild Oats" and in "David Garrick." Among the miscellaneous actors of the period, — all able, all prominent, and all more or less engrossive of the public observation, — were F. C. Bangs, William H. Crane, John S. Clarke, Charles W. Couldock, Mrs. John Drew, Louis James, William LeMoyne, Milnes Levick, Steele Mackaye, F. F. Mackay, Maggie Mitchell, Stuart Robson, James H. Stod- dart, Marie Wainwright, and Frederick Warde; 76 LIFE OF MANSFIELD while among the leading men, of conspicuous talent, with whom Mansfield was, necessarily and unavoidably, compelled to come into professional contrast and, therefore, more or less sharp rivalry, were Kyrle Bellew, Maurice Barrymore, John Drew% J. H. Gilmore, Joseph Haworth, Robert Mantell, Eben Plymptom, E. H. Sothern, and Otis Skinner: and not only was there a prodigal opposi- tion of great professional abihty; the repertories of the rival actors were, in almost every important instance, uncommonly rich, including every variety of drama, from tragedy to farce. Into the popu- lous, glittering, combative arena thus indicated Mansfield projected liimself, with an equipment that mostly consisted of his exceptional personaHty, resolute will, and insatiable ambition. Incidents of ^Mansfield's tour, in the season of 1887-'88, plans that he considered, notions that he entertained or discarded, Hs moods, serious or humorous, and the varying movements of his ever active mind are indicated in many letters that he addressed to me during liis absence, some of wliich are of sufiicient interest to merit incorporation in this chronicle of his life. Before he left New York, in 1887, he had told me of his inclination to attempt Sliyloch, and had not received much encouragement, but I had suggested to him, as a good subject for A BUSY SEASON 77 a play, the story and character of Beau Brummell. He went to Philadelphia on October 2. The dra- matic season was one of much activity, and it was especially signalized by the advent of Henry Irving and Ellen Terry, acting in "Faust." To those subjects there are various allusions. October 6, 1887. The Continental Hotel, Phila. My Dear Winter: — Whilst the "critics" here have been quite unable to say enough bad about us, the public, thank God, has supported us as well as they supported us in New York and Boston, and the financial showing is, therefore, a very satisfactory one, with all signs of an increasing success. We opened to the largest first night house of the season and have not fallen ofif since. Dr. Lamden's attack in "The Times" was quite brutal. Can you send me an acting edition of "The Merchant of Venice" with your notes and business marked? Yes? It would be a great kindness and help me greatly. I have had to break off here, tired and almost worn out — the weather has turned very, very warm and my consequent suffering has been great. I am praying for a change. The week has closed well and has brought me a handsome profit. How we shall do this week I do not know. Next week Hooley's Theatre, Chicago, Yours always, Richard Mansfield. Stillman House, Chicago. October 24, 1887. My Dear Winter: — Thanks for your kindness and your good advice, which I will endeavor to follow. 78 LIFE OF MANSFIELD I am glad the books pleased you. I only wish I could do something worthy of your kindness to me. We played to very large business last week in Chicago — against Booth and Barrett, and other strong attractions. I received a very kind, charming letter from Booth, congratulat- ing me — so like him. I do not think I shall play Shylock. O, for a play! I am tired and have caught cold. When you have time write to me. Tell me how to map out the four weeks at the Fifth Avenue Theatre, in New York. We commence December 19. When does Irving arrive in New York.'' I would like to send him a word of welcome. God bless you. Ever yours, Richard Mansfield. Can you tell me what week Irving plays in Boston? Irving appeared at the Star Theatre, New York, on November 7 and ended his engagement there on December 10, appearing in Boston on December 12. His remarkable presentment of Wills's drama on the subject of Goethe's "Faust" necessarily received thoughtful attention. Pittsburgh, Nov. 9, 1887. My Dear Winter: — I have read to-day with keen relish your masterly essay on Irving's "Faust." I was delighted with the views you express. I was greatly obliged to you for your telegram which afforded me the opportunity to send a dispatch to Irving, wishing him all good things. How much I was delighted with his sweet and gracious reply I need not tell you. I am more and more in love with the idea of "Beau Brum- mell." I have determined not to touch Shylock. If it is pos- PROJECTS 79 sible to have a play about Brummell I will have it. Tell me how to set about it? Who will write it for me? Can you obtain for me a life of Beau Brummell? Probably I could sketch the scenario myself. Above all I must have all the neces- sary authorities. May I task your friendship (being in the land of the heathen and the Turk myself), to obtain these books for me and to send them, C. O. D.? I am in Baltimore next week and in Washington the week following. Pray do this for me! Sullivan writes to say that he is working hard on "Nero" — you may be sure I shall do nothing with it until I have sub- mitted it to you. I am in doubt about my New York and Boston engagements and also want your advice upon these points. I have rented the Fifth Avenue Theatre for four weeks commencing Decem- ber 19th. What am I to commence with? The week before Christmas is notably a bad week — I thought as follows: tell me if I am right? Week of the 19th, " Monsieur." Week of the 26th ) ._ _ , ,, . ., tt j » „ , \ Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, u an. /J ) Week of Jan. 9th, "Parisian Romance." What do you say? The reason I place "Monsieur" in the repertoire for that week is that the week is so bad it will make little difference what we do — as "Monsieur" is trivial — light — easy — it will be like a rest for me and it will be better than doing "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" and jeopardizing the success by playing to bad houses on the first week. Boston is equally serious — for, altho' I am rejoiced to think I shall meet Irving — as an opponent I don't care to face him, and he comes to Boston on my second week ! I play two weeks at the Globe Theatre, weeks of Jan. 15 and 23 — on the 23rd. Irving comes. What am I to do? Write me and advise me. Business is splendid. Yours always, Richard Mansfield. 80 LIFE OF MANSFIELD With his purpose to act in Shakespeare's "Richard III." I had, from the first, warmly sympathized, and it was pleasant now to hear that he was earnestly preparing himself for that important venture. St. Nicholas Hotel, Cincinnati, Nov. 29, 1887. My Dear Winter: — What a place this is! — or, rather, what a place this is not!! It is very horrible, after Washington. I dressed in a filthy, draughty hole last night. The light man had to hold the moon in his arms in the second act, and he would wobble it about and finally fell off the ladder and nearly set the house on fire with the moon. And I don't think the people like "Jekyll and Hyde." I heard somebody say, last night, that it is " a hell of a play" ; and a "gentleman" called upon me and asked me to visit his house with him, as his daughter was anxious to see what I looked like, off the stage! I read about INIr. Irving at the Lambs' Club in the N. Y. papers this morning. I am glad you were not there — at least I hope you were not, and you cannot have been, for I do not see your name. To be wedged in between and — well, no matter — would not be pleasant. We will have a few choice and delicate evenings when I am in town — hein? I have so much to ask your advice upon. I am sorry, very sorry, and it is very bad for me, but I see no way out of it — I shall be compelled to play "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" December 26, the opening night of Booth and Barrett. It can be arranged no other way. I have tried to cancel a week but have failed. That was a great big week — the last in Washington — and added another two thousand dollars to my hard earned savings. I can obtain no definite reply from INIr. Palmer, about the Madison Square Theatre, but he still holds out hopes — if I Photograph ly Stereoscopic Company MANSFIELD AS RICHARD THE THIRD {Act III.) VARIOUS PLAYS 81 cannot succeed in having a house in New York what do you advise? — It seems I shall be compelled to play again all sum- mer in the city and then make another tour. But with so much good work that can be well, even finely done, in New York, it seems idle and stupid to gad about the country. I have been studying Richard the Third. It will be the great success of my life when I play it. But I see him quite, quite differently to what tradition and the modern actor tell us. As regards the scenery and effects I think too, when I come to chat it over with you, I shall surprise you, and I hope please you. Yours always, dear Winter, Richard Mansfield. Louisville Hotel, Louisville, Ky., December 7, 1887. My Dear Winter: — A thousand thanks for another kind and thoughtful letter from you. I will do as you wish — altho' as regards plays I shall have my hands full. "Nero" comes first and then, I hope, "Beau Brummell," and I intend — this quite positively, for I have been hard at work on it — to do "Richard III.," next season. I will explain my views regarding it when I see you. I feel very certain that it will be one of the greatest successes of my life, and you know I do not feel always san- guine. Of course, this is quite in confidence to you — ^because I may be laughed at for my pains. You know how glad I shall be if you will write "Beau Brummell" yourself — I think you should do it. Dramatic literature in this country requires such a filip. If things go right we will go to England together next summer and we will look up the places and the costumes, we will saturate ourselves with everything of those days. I also need sketches — sketches of interiors and exteriors for 82 LIFE OF MANSFIELD "Nero" — "Beau Brummell" and "Richard III." I think with those three plays, done as I shall do them — I am not speaking now of my own poor individual effort — I should be able to hold the fort for one season ! Anyhow, if the summer is free to me — you are mine, flesh and bone, and / am the Devil. Yours always, Richard Mansfield. In the course of this tour he acted in Philadelphia, Chicago, Cleveland, Buffalo, Toronto, Pittsburgh, Baltimore, Washington, Cincinnati, Louisville, and St. Louis. On December 19, 1887, he again appeared in New York, acting at the Fifth Avenue Theatre, where he remained till January 14, 1888. Another tour followed, but he was in New York, for one week, in February, and he returned in June. The repertory, all the while, remained unchanged, — "JMonsieur," "A Parisian Romance," "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," and "Prince Karl,"— and by his earnest, judicious, persistent use of that repertory, he was able not only to maintain his prestige but to extend it. IV. 1888 TO 1890. Mansfield, at this time, had reached a most important stage of his professional career. His immediate attention was fixed upon the enlarge- ment of his means of appeal, — ^it being his con- viction that the public is ever craving something new, and that no actor can long prosper who does not gratify that solicitude, — but his "darker pur- pose" was to seek renown beyond the ocean, to act in London, and to return home a conqueror. With that intent he determined not only to acquire new parts, especially Nero, — upon which he had long brooded, and which, though never popular, became one of his most characteristic embodiments, — but to form a strong company and challenge all com- petitors. Continental Hotel, Philadelphia, March 14, 1888. My Dear Winter: — You write to me sadly and it makes me sad. I wish I could do something to cheer you up. I think you need taking away from yourself for a while. Certainly the best thing you can do will be to go to England with me. You do nothing but 83 84 LIFE OF MANSFIELD work and think and think and work, and you expect yet to be well and cheerful?! I wish I had you with me. Everybody about me at present is on the verge of lunacy and it is I who make them so. I think I am a sort of Margrave (in Lytton's "Strange Story"). Damn this pen! I can't write with it. However, I think my eccentricities have the effect of keeping people very much alive — even if mad! I am studying Nero (also lively !) and I like it. I think I shall revel in him. I am going to make him a beautiful demon. Possessed of every lovely physical attribute and the mind and spirit loathsome only — "a, rosy apple, rotten at the core," and even that evil spirit much the natural result of his time and education. A youth of thirty, with golden brown hair with red shadows in it — a form and face as nearly lovely as I can cause them to appear, a bounding step, an agile grace and a winsome, treacherous smile. That's my Nero and I think if I partly succeed in this appearance only — half the battle's won. The play is strong but deals only with the latter days and an episode in the life of the Caesar. At the banquet I cause him to sing, and the harps to play, and roses will be showered and garlands twined. Charis, the slavegirl will dance before him, and, dancing, poisoned, die! But there — I bore you, and we will read the play together. Again!! Well, will you pass the day with me on say Tuesday week, March 27.'' I will write no more now — but be sure to say Tuesday! Always yours wholly, Richard Mansfield. In the spring of 1888, being in somewhat frail health, it became necessary for me to make a voy- age, and therefore, rather suddenly, I laid aside the pen and sailed for England. Mansfield had not been apprized of my intention to go away, although his friendly request that I should be his companion MARINE GREETING 85 in a visit to that country had been decHned. Hence the following characteristic letter: N. Y., April 23, 1888. My Dear Winter: — It was very sad to come home and find that I had missed seeing you by just one day, and that had it not been for that I might, at least, have gone on board with you, and wished you "God speed" — altho' I don't know what particular good would have resulted from such a proceeding! However, there you are a-sailing and a-sailing the wide ocean, with a reef in your mizzen-top and several (let us hope several) main-braces spliced — and here I am, pegging away at a head wind and a heavy cross sea, with a bad cold aboard and my scuppers all stopped up. As I consider this nautical language appropriate, I hope you will understand it. Seriously I .diss you, altho' I saw so little of you, but I had looked forward to this stay in town particularly because I did hope to see you — and very selfishly, because I had much to ask of you. I don't wonder you fled, and well may it become you! I am getting together a strong company, I think a very strong one, but it is the Devil's own work and fearful are the terms they all ask, being stars themselves, to support such a poor thing as myself. However, as it is a question of winning the battle, I am to lead veterans into the field and shall not trust to raw recruits — so you may look out for an array of talent. . . . More of this when it is all certain. I envy you over there. Remember me affectionately to ISIr. Irving and respectfully to Miss Terry, and believe me, dear Winter, always devotedly yours, Richard Mansfield. This is written at two a.m., and I am not sure that there 86 LIFE OF MANSFIELD is much sense in it — but, as it does no harm you might remem- ber me kindly to everybody! Boston, May 29, 1888. My Dear Winter: — I thank you for your two good letters. I cannot tell you how much pleasure it gives me to hear from you. I wish I were with you — we should have a happy time. As it is I shall not be able to come over until, probably, the end of July. Let me know if you expect to be in England.'' I have little time to write, for I am very busy — there has been no day without rehearsals — and I am playing here, in Boston, eight times a week. So far the engagement has been successful — very. I close here Saturday night, with what promises to be an overflowing house — I shall probably have to speak — but I shall confine myself modestly to "Thank you and Good-by!" I do not think I could say much of interest to them here. Next Monday I open in New York, with "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" — we act four weeks at the Madison Square Theatre, and I shall do all our repertory, in order to have the people engaged for England in good working order. ^Vhom to engage as leading lady I do not know ! Miss Cameron has decided to go to Paris and elsewhere, for study and for her health. She goes with Mrs. Stow — you remember Jack!* — his wife. I made an offer to Miss EfEe Ellsler — but, albeit she is not beautiful, she also required $400 a week — which I cannot afford to pay. I purchased a box for the Wallack Benefit and presented it to John Gilbert and Mrs. Gilbert, Mme. Ponisi, etc. They were much pleased. Gilbert has since called upon me here, but I was not in at the time. You ask me about : I only know him slightly; very slightly. I enquired about him, however, of some musical friends of mine and they tell me he is a musician of some ability — quite a good fellow. A little fast and rather in bad odor with HENRY IRVING 87 the "Bong-tong" here — which ought to be something in his favor ! I have only met him at the Tavern Club here, of which he is a member, I believe. He plays the violin very sweetly. What I saw of him I rather liked. I remember his being present at the initial performance of "Prince Karl," and his saying, after- ward, at the Tavern Club — "Et ees verra beautiful — verra beau- tiful — but what ees it all about?"; which was "verra" true! I think he is a Pole, but not a Jew. You must let me know what your plans are. It is good of you to interest yourself on my behalf. 'Tis but a poor play, as you know, and I think you are apt to look with too lenient an eye upon my shortcomings. I am a damned bad actor, and somehow I realize it more and more every day. Pray let me hear from you. Give my heartiest and warmest greetings to Henry Irving. I do not write to him because I know how much he has on his mind without being bored by my nonsense. Ever — always — ^yours, Richard Mansfield. It was characteristic of Henry Irving that he felt a lively interest in every phase of human activity and, particularly, that he was sympathetic with every courageous and novel adventure undertaken in his profession. No man could be more fervently desir- ous than Irving was that other actors, supposing them to be meritorious, should meet with the recog- nition and practical reward that merit deserves. He had known and had befriended Mansfield when that much younger actor was struggling through an 88 LIFE OF MANSFIELD arduous novitiate in London, and he failed not to observe, with sympathy and satisfaction, his intrepid and striking enterprise, as shown in the choice and practical utilization of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde." Mansfield, in meditating a pro- fessional visit to London, with his new plays, believed that if he could successfully appear in that capital, preferably at the Lyceum, his success abroad would much accelerate liis advancement at home. That belief he made known to me, and it was subsequent to my mention of the subject to Irving that a correspondence ensued between the two men, resulting in an arrangement for Mansfield's appearance at Irving's theatre, in the course of the season of 1888-'89. It had already been arranged that Irving, on his return from America, would make his re-entrance at the London Lyceum on April 14, and a contract had been made with the eminent French actress Sarah Bernhardt, providing for her advent at that house in the following July. The opening for Mansfield, who, on February 14, 1888, had leased the Lyceum for a period of several weeks, was assigned for September 4. The prospect seemed entirely auspicious, and both Irving and JNIansfield viewed their plan with pleasurable expecta- tion of a happy result. The way, however, was not to be smooth. Mansfield's prosperity with "Dr. SHARP PRACTICE 89 Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" had fired emulation, and as Stevenson's story of "The Strange Case" was not, in America, protected by copyright, several plays on the basis of it were speedily manufactured, in imitation of Mansfield's drama, — which, as already mentioned, was to a large extent his own work. One of those plays was produced in New York, on March 12, 1888, at Niblo's Garden, by Mr. Daniel E. Bandmann (1840-1905), an actor of considerable ability and long experience, and that performer afterward announced that he would proceed with it to London, intending to present it there, in advance of Mansfield's arrival. Opportunity in London, however, is not readily found. The only theatre that Mr. Bandmann seemed likely to have any chance of securing for his purpose was one called the Opera Comique. The situation, of course, soon became known to Irving, and necessary steps were immediately taken to command it. A cable message was sent to Mansfield, advising his pres- ence in London in season for the making of all need- ful preparations to appear at the Lyceum early in August instead of early in September, as first proposed, and the Opera Comique was leased by Irving, for a considerable time. I remember the amused and amusing voice and manner of Irving, when, on one of Sarah Bernhardt's "Tosca" nights. 90 LIFE OF MANSFIELD he came into the Lyceum box where I was sitting, and, showing me a slip of paper, remarked: "I have protected our friend. I have hired the Opera Comique, for some extra rehearsals. This is my receipt. If Mansfield comes over at once, we shall have no trouble." Mansfield did come over at once. From June 4 to June 30 he was acting in New York, at the Madison Square Theatre, but, after the close of that engagement, and on receipt of Irving's message, he sailed for England. It happened that Irving was, at this time, ram- bling in Cumberland, with friends, — among them the writer of this memoir, — and Mansfield presently joined the party, at the cosey old hotel at Patter- dale, on the shore of Ullswater; and I remember we sat up all night, discussing his budget of American news and his plans and prospects for a London season. The meeting was a delightful one. The relations between Mansfield and Irving were then friendly. They did not always remain so. They fluctuated, considerably; and although, at the last, the two men remained on ostensibly amicable terms of social intercourse, the feeling existent between them was that of disapprobation on the part of Irving and antipathy on the part of Mansfield. It is necessary to allude to tliis subject, because those actors, eventually, became professionally opposed, HENRY IRVING IN 1888 THE GREEN-EYED MONSTER 91 and because circumstances in the stage career of Mansfield would otherwise remain unexplained. The subject, furthermore, is an essential part of theatrical history, — a record which should tell the truth, and not be encumbered with sentimental eulogium and obscuration of facts. Mansfield had no reason to blame any one but himself for the loss of Henry Irving's active friendship. It was an infirmity of his mind that he ascribed every mishap, every untoward circumstance, every reverse of for- tune, to some external, malign influence, — never to any accident, or any error of his judgment, or any ill-considered act or word, or any fault of his own. Accordingly, when the total result of his London ventures had proved disastrous to him, as by and by it did, he accounted for it by adopting the fan- tastic, ridiculous notion that Irving, out of jealousy, had, from the first, intended to ruin him, and by great social influence and control of the press had accomplished that purpose. There has been a liberal superfluity of that kind of reproach against Henry Irving, in association with the names of several distinguished actors who have appeared in London and, according to some of their admirers, have been dissatisfied with the measure of commendation there accorded to them; — for example, Edwin Booth, Lawrence Barrett, Mary Anderson, Helena 92 LIFE OF MANSFIELD Modjeska, Ada Rehan, and Charles Coghlan. The disseminators of that frivolous gossip, meanwhile, have never explained how Irving found time to attend to liis own complex and exacting business, while attending so industriously to the destruction of professional rivals, or how it ever happened that, possessing such imperial control over the society and the press of London, he could not avoid occa- sional disastrous failures and, at times, a newspaper defamation of his own acting quite worthy of the pens of Kenrick and Pasquin. The fact is that Irving earnestly desired that Mansfield should meet with great success in London, believed that he would meet with it, and did all in his power to promote that result. Two letters that Mansfield wrote to me, one shortly before and one immediately after the arrange- ment had been made for his appearance at the Lon- don Lyceum Theatre, display in a clear light the respect and affection with wliich he then regarded Irving. The Croisic, New York, January 9, 1888. My Dear Winter: — What must you think of me? Here I have been a week and a half and not a line to you ! Day after day it has been on my mind, but it is absolutely a fact that I have not had a moment to collect my thoughts to say a word to you. "A GREAT, GOOD MAN" 93 I am in the midst of the most important work and projects, and it is necessary, dear friend, that I should see you. When can you come to me? I know how busy you are, but you know also how my work ties me down. You will be startled, I know, when I tell you what my project is, and you will, probably, tell me that I am a fool — and, frankly, I believe I am. It is good of you to give yourself this trouble for me! Yes, Henry Irving is a great, good man, and I am entirely devoted to him. He was charming to me. I received a little book from him, the other day, which I value highly. Now, rvhen will you come to me? — can't you make it Satur- day evening next? For next week, as I play in Harlem, I get home late. Always yours. Richard Mansfield. The Croisic, New York, February 17, 1888. My Dear Winter: — I expected you to breakfast yesterday and was very, very much disappointed you did not come. I am off to-morrow, for many weeks, and do not return here until Holy Week. At least I hope to see you then. This is a great thing Irving has done for me — pray God he sees the good work he intends for me accomplished! But I am a bad actor, and I feel it more and more every day. I received three books of yours, from Boston, to-day. A thousand thanks. When I return I am to see something of you, am I not? In the meanwhile, God bless you and keep you. // you see Irving, tell him horv I feel about this — it is the greatest good thing a great man ever did for a youngster. Always yours, Richard Mansfield. 94 LIFE OF MANSFIELD After our festal night at Patterdale Mansfield immediately proceeded to London, to begin rehear- sals of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde." At first he lodged at 118 Jermyn Street, "over a hen-shop," as by an early post he facetiously informed me: later he moved to 183 Piccadilly. "I think we are in a good way," he wrote, "to crush the tragedian Bandmann. At all events I have the sole rights to the play, — from the publishers, Longmans, Green & Company, to whom Stevenson sold Iiis rights. They protect me and I indemnify them. The same lawyers who succeeded in the 'Little Lord Faun- tleroy' case are engaged and very busy. Bandmann is to be met, and served with papers, upon his arrival." Long afterward Mansfield described to me the call on those publishers that he made, in company with Irving, to adjust the copyright business. Irving, who sometimes spoke indistinctly, men- tioned his name to an elderly clerk who was in attendance and who neither understood nor recog- nized him, so that he was obliged to repeat the name several times. When that dense person had left the room, to announce the visitors, Irving walked to and fro, for a few moments, musing; then, turn- ing to his companion, he said, reflectively: "Mans- field, I beheve there are some persons who are igno- AT THE LYCEUM 95 rant of the history of their own times." Irving, it should be noted, was a figure so universally known in London that, as a rule, when he happened to call a cab and wished to go to his residence, all he said, or needed to say, was "Home." Mansfield's production of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" was effected at the Lyceum Theatre on August 4, 1888. On the morning of that day he addressed to me the following letter, which indi- cates the vexations to which he had been exposed and the obstacles that he supposed to exist. His notion that rapid changes of scenery could not be made at the Lyceum Thealre, and were not cus- tomarily made there, was incorrect. It is possible, however, that the mechanics, scene-shifters, etc., did not care to make them for him. Ungenial "Sons of Martha" do sometimes behave in a peculiar manner when working for strangers, or for per- sons whom they do not like. 183 Piccadilly, London, August 4, 1888. My Dear Willie: — Just a line before undergoing execution! I am sorry to say I am hoarse, very hoarse; how could I be otherwise, with what I have undergone and the weather we have had? It would have been quite enough work for any one man to parry the attacks of Herr Bandmann. He has kept my hands completely full for the last week. Last night he announced a full dress rehearsal at the Olympic, and issued over 1,500 96 LIFE OF MANSFIELD invitations, — all without the consent of the management! Of course they stopped it, and he then had the audacity to send to me for permission to give it at the Opera Comique! Of course we were compelled to decline! All the same, he issued slips of paper to the crowd which had assembled before the Olympic, inviting them to the Opera Comique, and he would have forced his way in, had I not placed commissionaires and police around the building. Lively, is it not? I am sorry to say, like all great things and most great men, the Lyceum is not faultless. I have had, and am having, a hard time. They are, of course, accustomed to slow work — to taking months to prepare a play. They do not understand my rapid methods and swift action. There is no discipline, and crowds of loafers about the stage, who trip over one another and do noth- ing. The men are slow to obey and argumentative, and full of importance and the conviction that they know it all, or, at least, much better than we do. The company complain of the darkness of the dressing-rooms and inadequate conveniences, compared with our American theatres. Scenery which has ar- rived in St. Louis or Grand Rapids at four in the afternoon, and been used, without a hitch, at eight in the evening, and without a dress rehearsal, required all Thursday night, all day Friday, and a scenic rehearsal which lasted from eight yesterday evening until two this morning! and was the most imperfect, at that, it has been my bad fortune to attend. I am much distressed, very weary, very hoarse, and very anxious, and I have had too much work and too little play for a small boy. God bless you — I shall see you to-night. Pray God, all may yet go well! Ever yours, Richard Mansfield. The legal measures that were taken to protect Mansfield's rights to the use of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" proved decisively successful, and Mr. A FINE START 97 Bandmann's attempt to forestall him was foiled, — much to the satisfaction of all fair-minded persons. Mr. Bandmann had falsely proclaimed liimself, in America, the original representative of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde^ — the fact being that Mansfield had acted the dual part ten months before it was assumed by any other person. It should also be observed that the plan, — likewise stolen from him, — of weav- ing a love-story into the analysis of JehylVs complex nature, as set forth by Stevenson, was original with Mansfield, and that it was he who led the way, and showed other actors how thQ abstruse theme could be made practically dramatic. Four days before Mansfield appeared, Irving, who was leaving home, for a tour in Switzerland, and who had seen a rehearsal of the play, signified his auspicious view of our friend's advent at the Lyceum by this mes- sage to me: "Mansfield will be splendid." That augury was fulfilled. I remember the occasion as one of exceptional interest. The audience was numerous and of a brilliantly intellectual character. Upon his first entrance Mansfield was welcomed with two distinct, hearty rounds of applause, and he was recalled to the stage five times in the course of the representation. His voice was a little hoarse and once or twice his movement was slow and arti- ficial, because of extreme nervous excitement, but 98 LIFE OF MANSFIELD he acted with intrepid spirit and, generally, with amazing vigor. The crowning artistic charm of his impersonation was its preservation of unity. The two sides of the one nature were clearly shown, — the concrete result being one man, not two. The element of terror was made duly prominent, but the element of pathos was made to exceed that of terror. Jekyll was invested with poetic sentiment: Hyde was embodied as loathsome and venomous, but very awful. Hyde's perception of the invisible ghost of his murdered victim was made to provide a moment of truly infernal exultation, and it gave the assem- blage a thrill of horror. In the scene of the trans- formation of Hyde to Jekyll JMansfield's splendid outburst of passion, combined with his startling demeanor and ever-increasing volume of vocal power, caused a prodigious effect. Often as he afterward played that exacting dual part, I do not think he ever played it in a more inspired mood than he did on that critical and important night. He did not win the public heart: hearts are not won by horrors: but he made it clear that he was a unique actor and one entirely worthy of Iiigh intel- lectual consideration. On the next morning I sent to him this message, — interesting, perhaps, as conveying first impressions of a memorable occasion. CONGRATULATION 99 Hammersmith, August 5, 1888. Dear Dick: — I am off for Scotland. I expect to be absent for about ten days. I congratulate you on your success. The piece was thought dreary and tiresome, but you were greatly admired, and I think the public will grow to be very fond of you. Don't feel hurt at the criticisms, if any of them are sharp. The Second Act should be carried more rapidly. Miss Sheridan should be told to let herself out a bit. The hag needs more effect. There is a little too much of Jekyll's misery — and misery never was popular, on the stage, — or off! I wish you would get a new wig. Fox could make a much better one than that you now wear. And you ought to make Jekyll a more picturesque fel- low, — more "taking," — even at a sacrifice of strict correctness. He is heavy now, at least he was, last night, in act second. Your first entrance should be made striking, and there the appearance becomes of vital importance. I was delighted with your first act and with the scene of the change. Your Speech was in ex- cellent taste. Miss Cameron played better than ever before, because so moderate and symmetrical. But tell her to be dis- tinct and vigorous. She needs great care of her health, — exercise and good sleep, so that she may not be weak and seem fragile. I was surprised by the good judgment and the grace of her acting. Sullivan also was tasteful and judicious. Ever yours, W. W. After one of those Jekyll and Hyde nights he wrote to me: . . . Frith, the painter, who remembered my having been to him once, for his opinion upon some sketches of mine, came to see me last night — came to my dressing-room, after the play, — deeply moved and impressed, and said I reminded him of 100 LIFE OF MANSFIELD Macready! And he thought my voice was finer. He's a bluff old fellow, and I think he meant it. I am foolish enough to be quite happy over it! Always, dear friend, yours, Richard Mansfield. On his return from Switzerland Irving attended a performance of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," and after it had ended he and Mansfield met, for sup- per, at the Garrick Club, where one of those trivial incidents occurred which sometimes are more con- ducive than acts of positive hostility could be, to the disturbance of friendly relations between indi- viduals. Attendance at the Lyceum, large at first, had begun to dwindle, and Mansfield, dissatisfied and somewhat depressed in mind, and no doubt weakened by the prodigious exertions that he had been making, spoke much of liis discontent and of the tremendous strain imposed upon him by the act- ing of such painfully difficult parts and of the warnings given to him by physicians. Ir^^ng, at most times prone to more or less playful satire, listened observantly, and then, in his bland, piquant way, replied: "Ah — yes — interesting — very: but, Mansfield, my boy, if — if it isn't wholesome, I wouldn't do it" No unkindness could have been intended, but a sensitive man, especially one in whose temperament there is much of the woman, will TRIALS 101 sometimes remember with resentment the satirical pleasantry of a friend, long after he has forgotten a substantial kindness. It was about this time that I received from Irving (Monday, August 27, 1888), a letter in which he said: "Poor Mansfield! He's a little hipped just now, and thinks the world's against him. But I did my best to 'shake him up' and to show that he's everything to be grateful for. He's made a thorough success with the public — not every man's good for- tune. I'm very fond of him and hope his boat may ever sail as freely as it does now." The boat, however, was not sailing as freely as it might have done and as the actor's friends assuredly wished that it might do. The trend of his fortunes and the direction of his thoughts, at this time, are well evinced in the following letter, received in Paris: August 30, 1888. My Dear Winter: — I have your good kind letter: you are, thank God! always the same. Some of my idols here, however, have fallen. It resolves itself into a hard struggle, — and a struggle it shall be. I have youth and strength on my side. Our friends are rather inclined to advise me to finish up quickly and go home. I shall not finish up quickly, and I shall not go home — just yet — altho' I know that very powerful forces will be, probably, arrayed against me. Business is slightly improving and will doubtless grow better as we reach the middle of September and October. I want some charming first piece, and I am looking for it; 102 LIFE OF MANSFIELD nothing in which to appear myself, but for five or six ladies and one or two men; it is difficult to find. I should then begin, as the nights grow longer, at 7:30, and with Dr. J. & H. at 8:30. I think the play will draw a good business, in spite of all. I shall have the "Parisian Romance" knocked into shape and do it (I think at the Globe), and follow it with "Nero" and "Richard III." Voila! Please say not a word to any one: what I say to you I say to myself. Would you could be with me and by my side always ! I shall get all the money I can, and make myself as strong as possible in that particular. I have seen Irving but that one day, and heard nothing of him since. I hope Daly is doing finely in Paris. Will you remember me most kindly to Miss Rehan ? When do you return ? Always, dear Winter, Richard. Mansfield's season at the Lyceum extended from August 4 to December 1, and, financially, it was a failure. On October 1 he presented "A Parisian Romance," and gave his fine performance of Baron Chevrial. October 10 he made the mistake of pre- senting "Prince Karl" for a Benefit (for the poor of the East End), so that when it was brought for- ward, on October 13, as his regular attraction, it lacked the gloss of novelty and did not attract much notice. He had been wisely advised relative to the Benefit expedient, but the good counsel, — contained in the following letter, — of one of the most experi- enced and judicious of London managers had been disregarded : GOOD COUNSEL 103 Theatre Royal, Manchester, October 9, 1888. My Dear Mr, Mansfield: — Mr. Irving asks me to say for him that he would be delighted to aid in any way he can. He thinks, however, that to make him a patron of a performance in the Lyceum would do harm instead of good, as it would look like a "put up" thing. He quite thinks, as I thought myself, that you would do very much better not to have a benefit for a charity on your first night, as such is so often done in London that it has come to be taken by the critics and the public as a bid for favor. You make your play more important by giving it on its merits, and friends, in London, in such matters, do not count for a row of pins. Very much better have the good results of a fort- night yourself, and, as the Yellow Fever benefit seems to be off, from your having another subject, you need not have a Charity Benefit at all. We all certainly think that you would do better not to have a benefit. Yours very truly, Bram Stoker. Upon the fluctuations of business while Mansfield remained at the Lyceum, and upon the critical dis- cussion that ensued as to his impersonations of Chevrial and Prince Karl, it would be unprofitable to linger. Toward the last he wrote: Dear Old Fellow: — I think it very unkind of you not to let me know that you were back in town. Overwhelmed with work, I lost the pencilled lines you sent me, with your address, and was waiting to hear of your return. I have much to say to j'^ou, — and above all to thank you. ... A true, staunch friend ever. 104 LIFE OF MANSFIELD Things are looking very much better than at first. Let me know the moment you get back from Bath, or I shall never forgive you. During the day I love to spend some quiet hours on the river, and want you with me ! Was with Toole until late last night. You will see him in Bath. Yours as ever, Richard Mansfield. After liis season at the Lyceum had ended Mans- field acted for one week in Liverpool, by way of reinforcing his purse, and before returning to Lon- don he visited Derby and gave two performances there, for the benefit of the school which he had attended when he was a boy, and which he always remembered with affectionate interest. "I had one bright day in Derby," — so he wrote to me, — "where, at the old school, I met with a welcome worthy of a King — a packed house and endless cheers and calls. After the play the boys took the horses out of the carriage and dragged me, — they yelling Hke Comanches, — to the school. I played t\vice, and netted a handsome sum, for a new racquet court and a new chapel." To that visit his thoughts often reverted, and more than once he told me it was the one unalloyed happiness of the year he then passed in England. The Lyceum season, while it had increased his prestige as an actor, had left Iiim in debt, to Irving, for rent of the theatre and other expenses, .£2675. With that situation he had now ENTERPRISE 105 to contend. He did not lose heart, however, but determined on another and still more onerous ven- ture, — the resumption of the plan he had formed before leaving New York, of acting in London in one of the great plays of Shakespeare. With this purpose he hired the Globe Theatre and began preparations for a magnificent production of "Richard III." In the meanwhile, after a visit to various places in Scotland and Ireland, during which time I lost sight of him, I had returned to New York, and the first authentic news from him came in this letter: Long's Hotel, New Bond Street, London, December 16, 1888. My Dear Winter: — A merry Christmas, dear old man, and a happy New Year! If I have not written before, you know how wild with work and how driven to death and worried I have been. Had I good news of myself I should have written often, but to drone out the same old story, of bad houses and poor business, is as bad as playing to them, and Heaven knows that is bad enough. I received a charming book of poems from Scotland, — poems of yours; and, when I have a moment, I sit down at the piano and try to sing them, to extemporized music. Irving is in town, but he cometh not to me. We open the Globe on Saturday. Well, all blessings be upon you for the New Year; sometimes write to me, and don't forget altogether Your true and grateful friend, Richard Mansfield. 106 IJFE OF MANSFIELD He opened the Globe Theatre on December 22, 1888, with "Prince Karl," but he had not been act- ing long in that play before his voice, always very sensitive to the London climate, became practically disabled, and he was obhged to rest. An arrange- ment thereupon was made, with the accomplished English comedian Lionel B rough, to fill the time with that fine old comedy "She Stoops to Conquer," and Mansfield went to Bournemouth, where he devoted liimself assiduously to the study of "Richard III.", so that he might present that tragedy at the Globe as soon as he should be able to act. His generous friend Eben D. Jordan had come to his assistance in that formidable undertaking, and all requisite preparations w^ere now rapidly made for the worthy fulfilment of his momentous design. Among the allies whom, fortunately, at that time, he was able to interest in his enterprise were the learned and exact Shakespeare scholar, Walter Her- ries Pollock, and the accomplished antiquarian, J. G. Waller. Mansfield himself had made a stage version of the play, reverting to the original text, though making use of some of Gibber's cogs and words. Seymour Lucas was employed to design dresses and armor for the production, Edward German to compose incidental music, and William Telbin and others to paint scenery. The tragedy Photograph by Notman Company, Boston EBEN D. JORDAN RICHARD III. 107 was presented at the Globe on March 16, 1889, and Mansfield's embodiment of Glo'ster, then given for the first time on any stage, became, and for some time remained, one of the principal themes of dis- cussion in the society and press of London. His own account of the venture follows: Langham Hotel, Portland Palace, London, W., March 24, 1889- My Dear Winter: — At last and successfully ! ! Considering how much we have undertaken and what an enormous task it is to present Shake- speare here, I think we have every reason to more than con- gratulate ourselves. I am sorry your version did not come sooner, but as it is, it has been of great service to me. . . . The fools here do not know Gibber from Shakespeare — I have almost entirely done without Gibber and restored Shakespeare's lines — but because I have to a large extent fol- lowed the "scenario" of Gibber, they are under the impression that the lines must be Gibber — which they are not. However, thank God we have succeeded — and that is the main point. On the opening night — we commenced with an uproar in the pit; everybody against us or doubtful; the close was a triumph — an ovation ! Last night the house was packed and very many people were turned away. So it has come at last. I have waited a long time. I cannot tell you how I long to be at home again — England does not agree with me; I am ill and wretched; my throat has not been well for months — and the strain and anxiety is something too fearful. What would I not give to be in my rooms at the Groisic — you and I, over a glass of grog and a cigar (a big one — I have not smoked for a month), and you "in the mood"! There are more hypocrites, liars, parasites, and sycophants 108 LIFE OF MANSFIELD here to the square mile than in America to the square State. I know we have some of it in America — but here it is a recog- nized, established, and admired business, and the man or woman who does not practice it is considered a fool and liberally cold-shouldered. August! — will see me home again, please God, and it will take much to drag me thence. I am very, very busy, so I can- not write much now. God bless you, old fellow. Ever yours, Dick. Among the many personal tributes that Mansfield received, on the occasion of his performance of Richard the Third, two letters from the poet Robert Buchanan gave him much gratification. The author of such poems as "Two Sons," "The Ballad of Judas Iscariot," and "The Vision of the Man Accurst" was a person whose praise was worth hav- ing. He is dead now, and in his death a fine genius perished. Buchanan's first letter, a copy of which was sent to me by Mansfield, was first published in "The New York Tribune," April 9, 1889. London, March 26, 1889. My Dear Sir: — Outside praise is of little value to one who works from his own point of insight, but, knowing from experience that a friendly wish may be pleasure, I venture to tell you how much I was impressed by your Richard the Third. Your Shakespearean work seems to me about as fine as it could well be. I do not understand those critics who, while THE POET BUCHANAN 109 praising it, say that it is not Richard. To me it seems an absolute realization of that demoniac creature. You have one unusual gift, in addition to your subtler ones, — that of music in the voice, which makes a poor devil of a poet hunger to have his lines delivered by such an organ. I went, prepared to see an excellent piece of acting: I found a masterpiece of characterization. And what a delight it is at last to find an actor who is thoroughly alive, who is perfectly fearless in his intellectual agility, and never falters one moment in his execution of a daring conception. I just write these few words of congratulation. Later I may have an opportunity of writing to the public also. Yours truly, Robert Buchanan. To Richard Mansfield, Esq. "Leyland," Arkwright Road, Hampstead, N.W., March 27, 1889- Dear Mr. Mansfield: — This road is at the top of St. John's Avenue, and about ten minutes from the Swiss Cottage. My man can look after your fiery steed when you call, but, as I am somewhat uncertain in my movements, you might let me have a line, or a wire, to announce your advent. I wouldn't like to miss the pleasure of seeing you. Would Friday or Saturday next suit you.'' If so, I'll await your message. Pray believe me when I say that I seldom go out of my way to write letters of compliment, and that my message to you was a most unusual one, for me. I at the same time sent a line of congratulation to the sweet child who played the Prince. I mention this as there are some idiots who are always writing letters, and you might fancy me a "gusher." Indeed, when I think of it, I can hardly remember ever having done such a thing before, — from which you may gather at least one thing, that I was strongly and deeply moved. 110 LIFE OF MANSFIELD There are mean souls who bend down only to the sun in its meridian. / turn to the splendor of the dawn! If you possess pathos in any proportion to your power, I believe you will move mountains. I saw strange possibilities of pathos in sev- eral of your scenes, notably that with Lady Anne, when your face became wonderfully tender and spiritual — but your great- est conjuration will come out of your vitality: it is indeed a pleasure to find an actor so splendidly alive. With all good wishes, Yours very truly, Robert Buchanan. Richard Mansfield, Esq. Mansfield's production of "Richard III." was, by various classes and persons, in London, received with much favor. There were, of course, dissent- ing voices: nothing is ever satisfactory to every- body: but the public opinion, in general, was that of approbation. The attendance at the theatre, however, presently began to lessen, and the actor himself began to droop, in weariness and discontent. Social attentions were bestowed upon him in abundance: they always are, in such cases — that is, when an actor has, for any reason, become a sen- sation of the hour; but often they were insincere and insignificant, and to him, certainlj^ they afforded little if any pleasure and no compensation for the lack of sufficient public support. He continued to present "Richard III." until the first of June, when liis lease of the Globe Theatre expired and his Lon- HOME AGAIN 111 don season was ended. His thoughts and feehngs all tills wliile, can be divined from the following let- ter, one of several to the same effect, that he sent to me, in the course of that engagement: Langham Hotel, Portland Place, London, W., May 18, 1889- My Dear Willie:— I had your letter — always kind and thoughtful, and I wish all the world were like you. Read the extracts and your essay with great interest and will reserve my opinion until we meet, when we will have a discussion from 12 to 6 a.m. — altho', of course, you're quite right. — The discussion will be in the shape of sparkling wine and fragrant Havanas. I have much to tell you, but it had better not be written. You are not coming over this summer? ... I shall be glad, very glad when the season is over — and I may quit these beautiful but inhospitable shores and this apathetic people. The amount of courtesy I have received from my brother actors, etc., here would not fill a pea-nut shell ! The lying — backbiting — intrigu- ing — slandering, underhand dealing and robbery would, on the other hand, require a very large store house. No, — the people are not pleasant. Yours ever, Richard. In July, 1889, he arrived in America, crowned with the laurel of distinction, heavily laden with debt, somewhat impaired in health, much distressed in mind, but resolute to attempt new ventures, to pay his debts, to set liis affairs in order, and, by redoubled exertions, to win the leadership of the American stage. From that time onward, during a period of 112 LIFE OF MANSFIELD eighteen years, till the close of his career, his activity was great, his labor was incessant, and he continu- ously occupied a conspicuous position, not only in the public gaze but in the critical mind, — for in the realm of the Theatre he seemed to be everywhere present and always doing something new. His first presentment in America of his version of "Richard III." and his fresh view of GWster was made at the Boston Globe, on October 21, 1889, and it was the cause of much discussion. Immediately after the performance, that night, many of his acquaintances assembled, by his invitation, in a parlor of the Parker House, for supper, and I remember that the decorum of the occasion took at first the impressive form of frosty silence, which at length was broken by a cheery voice, saying, "Mansfield, where did you get that dreadful music?" Long afterward he playfully referred to that incident, as typical of a kind of critical candor that might well have been spared, — particularly as the music, far from being "dreadful," was exceptionally fine. Congratulation, however, was not withheld from him, either then or later. His peculiar theory as to the character of Glo'ster, a theory based more on his- torical studies than on Shakespeare's play, was not generally accepted, — being, in fact, viewed, for the most part, with indifference, notwithstanding that he INNOVATION 113 made it ingeniously effective by novel treatment, — but the sustained power of his performance and cer- tain special beauties of it were recognized and warmly commended, by many pens in many cities: for on the first night of Mansfield's Richard the Third, in Boston, many of the leading news- papers of the country were represented in the audience, and there was an eager disposition to sustain him in his earnest and valiant endeavor. Four days later he wrote to me, recording his prosperity : Boston, October 25, 1889. My Dear Old Fellow: — Your article was indeed superb, and I do not know, and cannot imagine, when you found time to write so thoroughly, so finely. Praise from you is praise indeed, and as fine and lasting as a monument. I wish — I wish I could play up to it. I have quite realized what you say about lack of incisiveness and I find the difference apparent to myself in my acting since the first night. A twelve hours' rehearsal and the anxieties of a first night are not inducive to fine and precise expression, nor can Richard be played upon Apollinaris. I think a little Hungarian wine with seltzer helps me. The houses have been very fine: $1,200, $1,100, $1,400, $1,500 (I am leaving out the odd dollars). I think this is good busi- ness, and it bids fair to be better still. Please God it may. I will and have borne in mind all you say about Irving — I will have none but the kindest feelings: the business part of it shall be at once attended to. 114 LIFE OF MANSFIELD And now, thank you, thank you, thank you, for the good — the great, great good you have done me ! ! Yours quite, Richard Mansfield. It was remarked by the representative sage of English criticism that fame is hke the shuttlecock, which must be struck at both ends in order that it may be kept up, and, fortunately for Mansfield, there were adverse as well as propitious reviews of his performance; and, although he did not like them, they contributed to liis advancement. Boston, October 27, 1889- Dear Old Fellow:— . , . The Boston critics are tearing the flesh from oflf my bones — but we played to $10,000 all the same! $3,000 yester- day in the two performances. God bless you, old fellow — I shall never, never be able to repay what you have done for me. Ever, ever. Yours, Richard Mansfield. A little later the business had begun to decline and he became desirous of a change of bill. Toward the end of his Boston engagement he made his first experiment with the Ibsen Drama, having been per- suaded to that fad by Miss Beatrice Cameron, then the leading actress in his company, as she long con- tinued to be. On October 30 an afternoon per- RICHARD MANSFIELD IN 1889 'Look with a gentle eye upon thin wretch'' Hi: XII V VI., -\ Act III., Sc. 3. (Quotation selct'tefl by himst'lf) BEATRICE CAJNIERON 115 formance was given of "A Doll's House," Miss Cameron appearing as Nora, and acting that part exceedingly well. Parker House, Boston, November 1, 1889- My Dear Winter: — Thank you for another kind letter. I am much troubled to find another play. I am very tired of being the ruffian always and feel that it is absolutely necessary to my health and the well-being of my mind that I should play once a week, at least, some genial character. I can find nothing — nothing; and it must be something that will cost nothing in production. Can you not think of something for me? I shall be in New York on Monday morning — indeed I shall arrive late on Sunday, leaving here at 3. If you are in town on Monday morning come in to the Croisic — but do not drag yourself there for me. I realize all you say to me, and I will endeavor to follow your advice. The weather is very trying and the strain great. Business is good. Miss Cameron has made a marvellous success — as great as it was unexpected; she was as near great as I ever saw an actress — it was a revelation and an amazement to me and to the audience. I need not tell you what this sudden development means to us — for a charming and brilliant actress, such as she proved herself to be, is what we have sought and we can now really push her forward without the slightest fear. I speak absolutely sincerely and without favor regarding Miss Cameron. Even old Clapp gushed. I am, always, always yours gratefully, truly, Richard Mansfield. His engagement at the Boston Globe was closed on November 1, and the ensuing five weeks were 116 LIFE OF MANSFIELD devoted to performances in Philadelphia, Washing- ton, and Baltimore. I had advised him against need- lessly antagonizing rivals in the professional race, and was wishful, in particular, to promote friendly relations between him and Jefferson, Lawrence Barrett, Augustin Daly, and other such leaders, and especially desirous that he should not, — as eventually, he did, — by rancorous talk, affront and alienate Henry Irving. I knew that harmony among those chieftains, all of whom were accustomed to open their minds very freely to me, relative to each other, would be in every way beneficial. From Philadelphia he wrote: Continental Hotel, Philadelphia, November 7, 1889. My Dear Old Fellow:— . . . I do not know either Mr. Barrett or Mr. Daly — I have never met either — and of course I should be delighted to be friendly with them, but I do not think they care a damn about me. I have met once, and he was very drunk and very friendly; I afterward called upon him when he was sober — ^but he refused to see me; I think he is a very intelli- gent person. I have tried for many years to make a friend (and a sincere one) of P but he has not got it in his nature to be a friend to any man — and he has always played me some trick for my pains — he is a very sly and untrust- worthy person. I treat him always with courtesy — but I cannot trust him. To Irving I always, — my thoughts always, — turn with affection, and no matter what he might do, I do not think my affection for him would change. I cannot explain BAD BUSINESS 117 this — unless it is what there is of the woman in my nature. As for you — as long as I have a roof over my head it is for you also, and, if you hadn't a son I should ask you to adopt a fine healthy child with a good appetite and plenty of animal spirits ! The Philadelphians are very indifferent and don't care a damn about this fine presentation of Shakespeare's tragedy. I note what you say about wearing heavy cloaks — I quite understand. Where can I get a copy of "The Man of the World".'' Always all yours, Richard Mansfield. Philadelphia, Pa., November 18, 1889- My Dear Winter: — Thank you for your last kind letter. Things here are not what they should be — nor do I ever expect them to be, in Philadelphia. There is not and never will be, to my thinking, any interest in Art here — and I am quite sure I should have done better with "The Rag Baby" or "The Tin Soldier." I shall be glad — glad — when I am out of the place. We are playing to about $1,000 a night less than in Boston. I begin to think I can bear the Boston critics but not the Philadelphia houses ! I am greatly obliged to you for introducing "The — " to my notice. Altho' in many ways I think badly written and capable of very much improvement, it is finely conceived and appeals strongly to me. I shall do it, and that very shortly. I am extending — and that at once — my repertory. Your old idea of "Beau Brummell" is being worked out now by me, with the assistance of a young man named "P'itch." I should be very grateful to you, old fellow, if you will write a preface for me to "The ," short and pithy; something that I can publish in the programmes: 118 LIFE OF MANSFIELD who and what and how, and everything about him: he was contemporary of , was he not? Or am I an ignorant brute? Will you do this for me? Do you think "The — " for a first and "Sir Charles Coldstream" for a second piece would be a good bill? I should not use the title "Used Up," and I should alter somewhat the play itself. Sir Charles is a capital character; the question is — would it be risque for me to do it now? should I be going back? Would it be bad policy? Then too as I am to do Brummell would the characters strike you as in any way alike? What do you think of Young Wilding, in "The Liar." Would that not be better? You know I look to you for advice always and I am sure you will give it. Our business in N. Y. must be great and, please God, it may be. Would you advise much advance advertising? Washing- ton and Baltimore prospects look good, — and it seems that I am to be feted in Washington: how different from this place — where I am treated with studied indifference, I may say rude- ness. You seemed from your last letter to have dropped back somewhat into melancholy — this must not be: you were so well and cheerful. In three weeks I shall be with you, and we iwill have high times! I have found some old play-books here for you. Yours always, Richard Mansfield. Rennert's Hotel, Baltimore, December 5, 1889. My Dear Winter: — What is the matter? I hope you are not offended with me about "Beau Brummell"? I won't do it at all if you say so — and I certainly shall not do it without your approval. We are compelled to open on the l6th, with "Richard" — a postponement to the 25th would cost me $4,000, which I can- RICHARD AGAIN 119 not afford. I have also thought well to raise my prices (in the orchestra seats) to $2.00. Wallack's — or rather, Palmer's — holds but $1,200 when quite full, so it would not pay me, with my enormous expenses. My success or failure in New York will mean everything to my future and the direction my work will take: if America wants a new actor — new enterprise — new work, and a man who will spend freely all that is given to him, they may encourage me. If they don't — I shall give them comedy and keep my money to myself. I shall be in New York on Sunday — and I am looking for- ward so much to seeing you again — what say you to Monday evening.'' At the Croisic.'' — seven o'clock? Always, always, yours, Richard Mansfield. On December 16, 1889, he appeared in New York, at Palmer's Theatre, presenting "Richard III." Palmer's Theatre had been Wallack's and now, 1910, it is Wallack's again. His engagement there lasted till February 15. "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" was revived on January 20, 1890, "Prince Karl" on January 27, and on February 5 he acted Humphrey JLogan, in a melodrama called "Master and Man." His production of "Richard III.", manifestly, was the most important of those proceedings. In its fidelity to historic fact and in its opulence of acces- sories and magnificence of picture that production surpassed all previous presentments of that tragedy on the New York stage. The garniture with which the play was invested, — the paintings and the dresses, 120 LIFE OF MANSFIELD — reflected, not literally but in a vein of delicate exaggeration, suitable to a work of art, the aspect and condition of social affairs in England, in the time of "the unpopular king." As a spectacle the presentment was a triumph of archaeology. Mans- field, though, was not content with showing only a sumptuous historic pageant: he acted Glo'ster in a vein of interesting originality. His theory as to the development of the character, whether sound or unsound, was thoughtful and it stimulated thought. His method lacked, especially at first, the tumultuous, propulsive expedition which is requisite for the supremely effective acting of Richard, but it was not that of a stage parrot. He showed himself to be an actor of intellectual contrivance and startling force, and he impressed veteran observers with a deep sense of formidable personality and admirable art. Among others, that great woman and great actress Mrs. G. H. Gilbert, who knew all the stage traditions of the part and remembered all the notable assumptions of Richard^ from the time of Forrest, Brooke, and Davenport to that of Edwin Booth and Henry Irving, was emphatic in her approval of his performance, an approval of excep- tional value and significance. He did not, however, please everybody. That well-known remonstrant who intends to ejaculate "Louder!" when he hears HIS LETTERS 121 the trumpet blast of the angel Gabriel is always present in a theatrical audience, and he constantly writes to, or for, the newspapers. But such an actor as Mansfield could not be suppressed by the niggardly intolerance of implacable detraction. After the strangeness had ceased to be strange, and after the prattle had died away, his acting was judged by itself, and not by the standard of con- ventionality, and it justified itself by its intrinsic worth. Letters that Mansfield addressed to me, from time to time, in the course of this engagement at Palmer's Theatre, are interesting, since they show the activity of his mind and the fluctuations of his fortunes and moods, record incidents that concern his welfare, and give piquant denotements of his character. He had been pleased with remarks of mine on his pro- duction of "Richard III." He had resolved on having a play on the subject of "Don Juan," and he proposed that we should cooperate in writing it: "When we produce it," he added, "we will say 'Don Juan, a Comedy, by Deux Autres,' which will be capital." He had considered plays based on Scott's novel of "Woodstock" and on "Peter Schlemihl." And he had again presented "A Doll's House" (once only, December 20), Miss Cameron giving her ingenuous performance of the child-wife, without 122 LIFE OF MANSFIELD arousing public interest. The necessity of turning from Shakespeare to the old repertory had been urged upon his attention, and because of monetary stringency, he deemed it expedient to associate him- self with INIr. T. Henry French, in bringing for- ward a current London "sensation" play. "I am going to tack a little, and do a melodrama," he wrote, referring to "Master and Man," "but I will get into port just the same. It is a little dishearten- ing, sometimes, that's all." His book of songs, afterward published under the name of "One Evening," Hkewise now occupied some part of his attention. The Croisic, New York, December 17, 1889. My dear, dear Winter: — How nobly — how generously — how greatly you have written! I do not think words can ever repay you and I am afraid / can in no way ever — unless it be to deserve your commenda- tion. How well and beautifully all is said that you have to say! I thank you, I thank you, with all my heart. God knows whether the people will come to see us — but if they do not — at least your writing will be the fine monument that will stand where I fell. — I am worn out to-day. Ever your true, devoted, and obliged friend, Richard Mansfield. The Croisic, New York, December 29, 1889. My Dear Old Fellow:— It seems such a hollow mockery, — when we had no Yule log, no Christmas tree, no children around us, no dance, nor no Photograph hij Stereoscopic Companij, London "RICHARD III." Mansfield as Glo'ster; Beatrice Cameron as Lady Anne (Act I.) CHRISTMAS 123 snap-dragon, ifb halls full of merry people, — to wish anybody a jolly Christmas, that I refrained. I didn't have one myself and I didn't see why anybody else should and I smarted when- ever one of the stage-hands, with a significant hand in his pocket and an expectant look said: "Merry Christmas." But don't think that I had forgotten you — only when one plays Richard the Third 500 times in one week, one hasn't any time even for one's truest friends! Damn Ibsen! Who cares for Ibsen? Only I would wish, for that dear sweet girl's sake, her heart being so warped to that buoy, that it had not been entirely dragged away from her. I know — I feel, how she looked forward to a success here; I think her whole life was in it; too much so and it militated somewhat against her doing herself complete justice. She has been very ill ever since and it nearly breaks my heart to play my scenes with her at night. And now I send you a little New Year's gift — tho' I fear you will not perhaps care for it: an old battered ring, with my father's crest upon it. I wore it for many years, and hammered it out of all shape trying to impress people with this or that — I preferred sending it to you as it is; but I will have it made round and smooth again for you if you wish. WiU you wear it for my sake, dear old fellow, who have done me such great good.'' Ever yours, R. M. V. 1890 TO 1892. The votaries of art, commonly, are possessed of acute sensibility, — fortunate for them, in the main, because without it they could accomplish nothing, but unfortunate for them in at least one respect, because it makes them keenly sensitive to criticism. The actor is especially sensitive, and naturally so, because the exposition of his art involves the present- ment of his person, and that condition of circum- stance inevitably promotes a vigilant egotism, watch- ful of praise and censure. Mansfield, devoured by ambition and eagerly anxious to please, was par- ticularly observant of remarks in newspapers, and his spirit was alternately exalted and depressed by them. January 9, 1890. My Dear Winter: — I have read your article in "Harper's" with great interest and especially have I recognized the truth of what you say regarding my appearance in unpleasant characters only — altho' you do forget that pleasant characters which are strong char- acters are very scarce — and the "Prince Karl" and "Monsieur" both are very sweet. However, so convinced am I of the truth of what you say and perhaps somewhat by the fact that 124 IN MEDIAS RES 125 "Richard III." is, financially, a disastrous failure, that I have determined to bestow upon the Public, in the future, the small- est amount of artistic labor with the largest possible financial profit. I seek now only a pleasant character and a popular play, and I shall devote myself in the future to that class of work which distinguishes the Monkeys of the Drama, — it amuses the audience and does not fatigue the player. I am a sick, tired and beggared man and out of the ashes of my aspirations will rise a mean, sordid ape. I am, always. Yours very truly, Richard Mansfield. The Croisic, New York, My Dear Winter:— Sunday, Jan. 19, 1890. I am in medias res with my little book of songs — I think of connecting them by some few words a la Boccaccio, making the whole an entertainment and calling it "In the Evening: being an entertainment of songs, sketches, suggestions, and bur- lesques, by Richard Mansfield," and containing the following — each to be illustrated by a good artist: A suggestion for a National Air. A Children's Waltz. A Song Without Words. "The Broken Harp" (The Poem by William Winter). "The Curfew" (The Poem by H. W. Longfellow). "The sea hath its pearls" (The Poem by Heine). "Star of my heart." "And love me still." "In the twilight." "Sad is my heart." "Asleep" (The Poem by William Winter). "Will you tell me, artless maiden?" How I came to be a King: A Burlesque. An English Opera: A Burlesque. 126 LIFE OF MANSFIELD The Marmoset Monkey. "Good Night and Good Morning" (The Poem by Lord Houghton). "The Silent Pianist" (being a sonata played in silence). An air for the violoncello. Etc. I do not know how to set about publication — what to do? I am so busy it is impossible for me to go down town to Harper's — every moment of my day is occupied. Can you, will you, assist me.'' Yours ever, Richard Mansfield. The Croisic, New York, My Dear Winter: — January 30, 1890. "Master and Man" is here and we are constantly rehearsing. It is no use disguising the fact: I am in the depths of abject misery — for here is a part that I must study without bringing to it the first symptom of interest or pleasure. Three times I have tried to break off my arrangement with French — but in vain. Destiny. However, it may make so much money that we can do something fine finely, shortly: if it doesn't make money, nobody will be gladder, or drop it in a greater hurry, than your very true, your ever devoted and grateful friend, T - ., , ^ . , Richard Mansfield. 1 have gotten the Grippe ! The melodrama of "Master and Man" was with- drawn after a run of two weeks and Mansfield's engagement at Palmer's Theatre was then concluded. A brief tour ensued, with "Richard III." and the old repertory. One letter that he wrote, in the course of that tour, is especially expositive of his indomitable resolution to achieve great renown: BRUMMELL 127 Palmer House, Chicago, March 16, 1890. My Dear Winter: — When I am in bad luck I feel so like shrinking into my shell — I always feel so keenly that nobody wants to know me — that you will understand why I have been cold and disagreeable to you — my best of friends. Things have taken a turn and we are playing to crowded houses — for which I thank God! I am playing nine times a week, and if I can only keep it up I shall soon be myself again. Work has never terrified me — THAT you know — but it did seem as if the good God had quite forgotten me — or was angry with me — so bad and so sad have affairs been with me of late. . . . The press here has been more than kind, and has acclaimed me far beyond my deserts. I think everything is possible to me, if I am helped, and I feel, more and more, that the future — ^the immediate future — of the American Stage lies very much in my hands. At all events, I intend laying violent hands on it — coute que coute! I have a most tempting offer to go to Berlin; and I think I shall accept — because I can go there and do great things "right off," without question — and when I've done them there it will appear natural to people here that I should do them. I have no time to potter backward and forward here, at the whim of the people. Life is too short and too uncer- tain to waste it in doing small things. I am about to produce a play called "Edmund Kean," in Boston. Just to try it, that's all. I have two weeks at the Boston Theatre, and need a play dealing with large effects, and "Edmund Kean" turned up in the nick of time. "Lord Dunmersey" (if I do it at all) I shall reserve for the Madison Square engagement. Next week St. Louis — the Olympic, where I play four plays in one week, opening in "Richard III." Since I have written so much about myself — write me something about yourself. Always, always, yours, Richard Mansfield. 128 LIFE OF MANSFIELD On May 5, 1890, he again appeared in the capital, beginning an engagement at the Madison Square Theatre, with "A Parisian Romance." In the meanwhile, as shown by letters already quoted, he had been making a play on the life and character of Beau Brummell. The design of a comedy of manners, on that subject, which I had suggested to him long before, was now, after a fashion, fulfilled, and on May 19 he brought forth the drama with which he was to earn much money and largely to augment his fame. That drama lacks substance, is encumbered with triviahties, and is disfigured by caricature of manners and platitude of colloquy; but it is embellished with striking traits of char- acter and with amusing equivoke, it provides an affecting contrast of prosperity and adversity, and it is supplied with two or three moderately effective theatrical situations, such as the experience and ingenuity of an actor might naturally be expected to suggest. It proved a serv^iceable vehicle for the display of Mansfield's personality and accomplish- ments, and his acting carried it to success. The story of the origin and manufacture of the play of "Beau Brummell" is singular and instructive. Early in 1887 Mansfield applied to me, asking for a list of such plays as I might con- sider expedient for revival, and, in reply to A SCENARIO 129 his request, I directed his attention to several old comedies, long disused. In particular, I mentioned the comedy of "Beau Nash," by Douglas Jerrold, and I sent to him a copy of it, to read. That play contains the well-drawn character of Richard Nash J "the Tiberius of a silk stocking" and "by the grace of impudence. King of Bath," — in his day a remarkable man, of whom there is a biography attributed to no less an author than Oliver Gold- smith, — and also it contains an amusing story, comic incidents, good equivoke, and various pungent examples of the caustic pleasantry for which Jerrold was distinguished. Mans- field read "Beau Nash," and, although he decided that it was not practicable for his use, he derived from it the idea of acting a Beau, — an idea which had not previously occurred to him. When next we met the subject was discussed, and I then suggested to him that incidents in the Ufe of another beau, the celebrated Beau Brummell, might be utilized in a dramatic form. I particularly specified a passage in Captain Jesse's elaborate memoir of Brummell, in which there is a suggestive record of Brummell's re- ception of phantom guests, when he was a demented, impoverished exile, at Caen, in France, and I said that it could be expanded into a dramatic and pathetic closing scene. JNIansfield expressed cordial approba- 130 LIFE OF MANSFIELD tion of the subject and of the scheme, and earnestly- requested that I would write a play for him, with Brummell as the hero of it. I did not promise to comply with his request, but said I would consider it, and, a few days later, I sent to liim, in writing, the plan of a drama. The scene was to be laid partly at Oatlands, near Weybridge, in beautiful Surrey (Oatlands being a mansion that was once a palace and now is an hotel) , partly in London, and partly at Caen. Brummell was to be represented as a noble person, irreproachable in character, magnanimous in spirit, stately and elegant in manners, and the fable was to be suited to the man. Brummell was to intervene in an affair of gallantry, and, under romantic circumstances, to rescue a beau- tiful girl from the persecution of his friend the wanton Prince of Wales, afterward King George the Fourth, and in that way to incur the enmity of that royal profhgate. Then he was to become enamoured of the girl, and, upon his impassioned solicitation, she was to give him a promise of marriage, dictated by her grateful sense of obligation. Later he was to ascer- tain, by chance, that, secretly, her affections were fixed upon a handsome and accomplished but im- pecunious young man, and thereupon he was to make the welfare and happiness of the girl and her lover the chief object of his solicitous, practical, paternal PLAN APPROVED 131 care. He was, incidentally, to rescue the youth from the peril of the gaming table, — a device which would have permitted a sparkling representative scene at Watier's, Brookes's, or White's (it is recorded that once Brummell actually did thus befriend a lad) ; then to provide a competence for him ; and then, with firm, stoical abnegation of self, to procure the betrothal of the young lovers: finally, having inci- dentally encompassed his own financial ruin, he was to go to Caen, in France, there, in penury, to endure the pangs of want ; there, at a phantom feast, to wel- come the phantom shapes of noble lords and ladies, the companions of his better days; and there to expire, after ha\dng been found by his old friends. Upon that plan I believed that a practicable play could be written. I was not then aware that the authentic incident of Brummell's insane reception of imaginary visitors had been used in a play, but long afterward I read a two-act piece by Blanchard Jer- rold, — a trivial fabric, of no practical use, — in which the incident of the phantom guests is employed. Mansfield, pleased with my plan, reiterated his request that I would write the play, but, being bur- dened with other tasks and duties, I declined to under- take that labor, and so for a while the project slept. It had, however, taken firm root in his mind, and, ultimately, he determined to write the play liimself, — 132 LIFE OF MANSFIELD which he was well qualified to do; but, as he was acting, he would not devote himself to a literary pursuit, and presently he employed Mr. W. C. Fitch, who had been commended to his attention by his friend Edward A. Dithmar, the esteemed journalist, at one time dramatic editor of "The New York Times," and, changing my plan, without improving it (a plan which liis assistant, meanwhile, read), Mansfield fashioned the play of "Beau Brum- mell," dictating to that assistant the greater part of the colloquy contained in it, but allowing Mr. Fitch to write dialogues from notes and from memory of his talk. That statement was made to me, by the actor, in explanation, with marked emphasis, over and over again, in speaking and in writing, and upon Mansfield's authority I repeat it here: he said, also, that the play was composed mostly at the Continental Hotel, Philadelpliia. Some of the more piquant lines in the dialogue in "Beau Brummell" were taken from Captain Jesse's biography; others were taken from earlier plays; others were supplied by Mansfield, who had a particularly happy knack of odd witticism. One colloquy was "conveyed" from Peacock's "Nightmare Abbey," — a book that I once mentioned to Mansfield as among the most quaint compositions in our language. The plan of choosing Brummell as the subject of a drama GEORGE BRUMMELL, THE FAMOUS BEAU, IX YOUTH From an Old Pr'nit LIKE SHEEP 133 and the plan of idealizing his character were mine, and so was a general scheme for the conduct of the plot. Mansfield and his amanuensis possessed my original written outline of story, together with the substance of many hints and suggestions made to the actor, in conversation and in various letters, upon which to build, and it was, and is, my opinion, that they might have built upon that basis with better judgment and better taste. Brummell, in actual Hfe, was a voluptuary. For the purposes of a drama it was imperative that he should be rehabiU- tated. That I had prescribed, and that was done. Mansfield's acting, even in a caricature of manners and circumstances, made him a magnanimous gentle- man, and invested him with a romantic and pathetic charm, while the long-continued success of the play, — in which, while Mansfield lived to present it, Brummell was always an attractive figure, — made Mr. Fitch, who contributed to it scarcely anything except clerical labor, a prosperous dramatist. There came a time, so Mansfield told me, when that writer had so thoroughly convinced himself that he was the "creator" of "Beau Brummell," that, in INIansfield's presence, and in that of Mr. and Mrs. W. H. Kendal, he gravely informed his auditors that, originally, he had intended the play for Henry Irving! It should be mentioned, also, as 134 LIFE OF MANSFIELD one more of many examples of the sheep-like char- acter of most actors, that as soon as Mansfield had made a hit with Beau Brummell, a crop of Beaus sprung up, all over the stage. H. Beerbolim-Tree, in particular, brought forth, November 3, 1890, at the Haymarket Theatre, London, a play called "Beau Austin," by Robert Louis Stevenson and W. E. Henley; and even Blanchard Jerrold's thin play was revived. Letters from Mansfield substantiate this account of the origin and composi- tion of the drama of "Beau Brummell." The state- ments here made, on this subject, were widely pub- lished during the Hfetime of Mr. Fitch, and they were not, and could not be, successfully disputed, either by him or by any other person. Mr. Fitch died, at Chalons-sur-Marne, France, on September 4, 1909. He was a man of talent and he wrote several serviceable plays, but he was not the author of the play of "Beau Brummell." The opinion of the actor on this subject is inti- mated in the following letter, written twelve days after the first performance of the play, when the success of the production had been confirmed by continued good attendance and a generally favorable press, and when it seemed hkely that his present- ment of the Dandy was destined to have a long career; TESTIMONY 135 The Croisic, New York, May 31, 1890. My Dear Winter: — You are quite right — only too right in what you say about Fitch — and he has not even had the grace to thank. If he is capable — fortune is now within his grasp. But he has acknowl- edged to no one his indebtedness to me or to you. Of course I can say nothing. I am so glad — so very glad you liked the sketch in Harper's — praise from you is praise indeed. Indeed I have thought of your poem — it is always on the music rack on the piano, and I will play over to you what I have attempted, when we meet — which pray let be soon. Thank God there is no truth in the paragraphs about Beatrice! She is much better and getting stronger. She injured her health in playing that accursed Ibsen, and in the many years of constant hard work and travelling. She is in Berne. Send me word when to expect you, — so that I may be quite free. Always yours all, Richard Mansfield. The time came when Mansfield, because of a vituperative attack upon him, relative to the author- ship of "Beau Brummell," felt at liberty to make a public statement on that subject, and did make it, — in the form of a letter, published, on April 15, 1891, in which he said: Boston, April 13, 1891. ... I owe it, perhaps, to Mr. William Winter, in the face of Mr. C. Fitch's letter to "The Boston Evening Transcript," to say that Mr. Winter's statements are absolutely correct. 136 LIFE OF MANSFIELD "_?Mr. Fitch's letter to "The Transcript" is a disfiguration of facts. Mr. Fitch was engaged by me to write the play of "Beau Brummell/' and I promised to use his name as author. He would still be figuring as such but for his own folly and ingratitude. / Mr. Fitch did not write "Beau Brummell" — except with ^ his pen. . . . Mr. Fitch has only to be asked these questions: Did you invent the plot? Did you invent any single situ- ation.'' Did you invent or create any one character? Did you have any single original idea for any one of the characters? .' Did you even give names to the characters? Did you invent i the climax of any act or scene? Did you invent any i bit of business? How many of the speeches now spoken are i yours? i Mr. Fitch's position has been a preposterous one. His in- j gratitude has been amazing. One sample alone suffices: Mr. * Fitch carried my play and my property with him to London, and read it to Mr. Beerbohm-Tree — who, thereupon, produced "Beau Austin." Your obedient servant, Richard Mansfield. The Brummell season at the Madison Square Theatre in 1890 lasted from May 19 till October 25. "Beau Brummell" was acted 150 consecutive times, and was then taken on a tour of other cities, Mans- field's impersonation of the Dandy being every- where received with favor. He was not, however, contented; he wished for something new, and he again took up the subject of "Don Juan," renewing his request that I would cooperate with him in writing a play upon that old story. With that A PHANTOM CABAL 137 request I did not comply, and it may as well here be said that I had nothing to do with his tragedy of "Don Juan," as it was finally fashioned, except to admire it and to recognize and celebrate its merit. At this time he first thought of assuming the cares of managing a theatre in New York, and, inci- dentally, he conjured up one of those bug-bears of professional antagonism with which, throughout hfe, his fancy was too readily oppressed: Leland Hotel, Chicago, December 8, 1890. My Dear Winter: — Your delightful book — your charming essay in Harper's — both received, and I thank you for remembering me — I hope you are not working too hard. Could you not leave for a little holiday, and spend next week with me here, in Chicago, and do some work on "Don Juan"? I have written out the first act roughly, and it is ready for you. But the play needs thorough discussion. Also we must talk over plans for the future — and everything for which I like to come to you for guidance. Pray come if you can — and I am sure it will do you good. ... I am aware of a cabal (with ghoul at its head) to keep me from the throne I am striving for — in this cabal are Palmer, Frohman, Daly, Barrett, and Booth — the latter may be innocently. Their object is to establish an English actor named Willard, in New York — but I cannot for the life of me see what particular good he is likely to do anybody; his coad- jutor is Hatton. These people are all after dollars — that is the alpha and omega of their ambition and their existence. I may take a trip to California, but I shall be in New York shortly, for I play in Brooklyn and at Hammerstein's in February. In October I shall open my new theatre. You 138 LIFE OF MANSFIELD have always been my best friend — I have leant upon you largely for advice in the past — I want to know if you will be heart and soul with me in the future? I shall never do any- thing to disgrace you, but I must say I need your earnest, your true support. I cannot work all alone, and I am all alone. Do come on here if you can possibly manage it, and we will talk of everything. What about Christmas? Where do you spend it? Bring the boy, and spend it with me? God bless you, old fellow. And believe me. Always yours, Richard Mansfield. j|( The English actor, Edward S. Willard, to whom such ungracious reference is made in the above letter, made his first appearance in America on November 10, 1890, at Palmer's Theatre, in Henry Arthur Jones's excellent play of "The Middleman," and, in the character of Cyrus Blenkarrij gave one of the noblest impersonations that have ever, in our time, been set before the pubHc. There was no occasion for Mansfield, or any other self-respect- ing actor, to be troubled on this subject, for the success of such an actor as Mr. Willard, which then and later was decisive and abundant, could only result in dignifying the stage and intensifjang the public interest in it, — a consequence manifestly advantageous to all its votaries. Early in 1891 Mansfield again acted in New York, tliis time at the Garden Theatre. The "A DOLL'S HOUSE " 139 engagement was a short one, beginning on January 5 and ending on January 31, and it was devoted to "Beau Brummell" and to an improved version of "Prince Karl." An afternoon performance of Ibsen's play of "A Doll's House" was, incidentally, given, and Miss Cameron repeated her good per- sonation of Nora. The play of "A Doll's House,'* which, apparently, was written for the sapient pur- pose of declaring that a wife should be her husband's companion and friend and not his plaything, is mawkish and tedious, but Miss Cameron infused a winning personality into the part of Nora, and commended a dull theme to acceptance by her piquant and sustained vivacity, her occasional intima- tions of sentiment and of maternal feeling, and, in the moment of the hysterical dance (the only dra- matic passage in the play), her truthful simulation of artificial glee conflicting with genuine terror. Letters which follow refer to that incident and also to a musical experiment that Mansfield made, in Washington, to which city he repaired, beginning another tour, as soon as his New York engage- ment had closed. February 7, 1891. My Dear Winter: — Thank you — thank you — thank you, for your great kindness to me; you are always the same true friend. And thank you 140 LIFE OF MANSFIELD for your encouragement of Beatrice — she has talked of nothing else since. How great to be able to bestow so much happiness ! Next Thursday afternoon there is to be given at Albaugh's Theatre, Washington, a Concert of Songs, Grave and Gay, written by myself. Two songs of yours will be sung and a new National Air dedicated to the People of this Country is to be sung by a boys' choir and played by a full orchestra. It will be an interesting event, I think. I hope for the President and his wife — all the Foreign Ministers — Congress and Society — will you come, my dear friend, and be my guest, — come on Thursday. The songs of yours will be "Asleep" and "The Broken Harp." I shall say in the programme "the poem by William Winter." I dislike "the words." Say you will come. It will be delightful. Ever yours, Richard Mansfield. The concert in Washington, devised partly to please himself and partly as an expert scheme for attracting a more considerable pubhc attention, duly occm'red, was attended by a fine audience, and gave much pleasure. As usual, I could not accept Mansfield's invitation to be present, and therefore, as on many similar occasions, incurred his censure, — for he was always particularly resentful upon the declination of any proffered hospitality. Later he described the performance: Buffalo, New York, February 20, 1891. My Dear Winter: — My little Concert amusement cost $1,000, and the songs were so wretchedly sung that I left the house. The effect upon the "ONE EVENING" 141 people, however, seems to have been quite at odds with mine own feelings in the matter, and everybody was loud in praise, and the audience remained calling for me for fully fifteen minutes. The man who sang "Asleep" murdered sleep — and the woman who sang "The Broken Harp" (it should have been sung by a man), had no heart. But you cannot give these people their feelings at $50.00 a song, and I could not afiford a Scalchi or a Patti or a Santley. There you are: in future I'll sing them myself — voice or no voice ! However, your songs were very much admired and vous voila ! I am over head and ears in work. Pray are you doing anything on "Don Juan" — I may need it first; in fact if I can only get it ready; if I only have the time, I think it is a safer venture than ' The Man Without a Shadow," which in any case would only go for a very few weeks — } Let me know what you think.'' If you would dis- patch the First Act to me — but no; I shall be in New York Holy Week, March 23, and that will be time enough, or in Philadelphia, March 9th. God bless you, old fellow! I am. Quite yours, Richard Mansfield. Friends of his have reason to remember that, on many a festal night, in later times of happy com- panionship, he sang those songs, for which he had written such lovely music, and, commingling frolic with feeling, caused the hours to pass swiftly, — for he sang with deep feeling as well as consum- mate skill, and when in a genial mood his companion- ship was delightful. The programme of that concert was the basis of his book, called "One Evening," to wliich he refers in the following letter: 142 LIFE OF MANSFIELD Colonnade Hotel, Philadelphia, March 5, 1891. My Dear Winter: — All your kind letters rec'd. I am compelled to finish "Don Juan," in case the other and lighter plays should not be ready. I intend to print "Don Juan" and before doing so I want you to correct my English, and make suggestions. I shall be in New York Holy Week — do try to keep it open for me — I must see a great deal of you. If there is a hotel at Tompkins- ville, near you, I think I will come and stay there for a day, near you, if I may, and we can talk over everything . . . I like the weird story you sent me — but to make a success- ful play I am leaving out as much as ever possible of any such element. For the Third Act I am stealing the situation with the Duchess de Guise in "Henry III." (Dumas). "Don Juan" will be a strong play — a new play. I shall not open with it, if I can help it. If "The Man Without a Shadow" proves too thin — and it looks that way now — I am thinking (but 'tis to be kept secret at present) of a dramatisation of Rudyard Kipling's "The Light That Failed," a most sweet, pathetic story. . . . My little book I can give no thought to at present — I am so hard worked that I have not been in the fresh air for five days now. I have left my rooms only to go to the Theatre. In the summer months I shall have ample leisure to bring it out. . . . I should particularly like it to be understood that the Garden Theatre is now my house of production, as Daly's or Palmer's by arrangement with Mr. French, that my company is a stock-company, not a merely supporting organization, and that we only leave the Garden Theatre for a short time as all stock companies do. I occupy the Garden Theatre until my own house uptown is completed. Ever gratefully your friend, Richard Mansfield, y THE STOCK-COMPANY 143 This idea of a "house of production" and a "stock-company" was, undeniably, judicious, but the suggestion of it by Mansfield, though absolutely sin- cere, could only be viewed as a pleasing fancy. His theory was correct. Every theatre should be man- aged by an actor, or else by a person possessing the actor's temperament, and in every theatre there should be a good stock-company. But Mansfield could not have conducted a stock-company, nor could he have long remained associated with one, — for he lacked both tact and patience. No actor has appeared, in our time, who more decisively exem- phfied the peculiar theory of democracy so con- cisely stated by King Louis, in the play: "All sub- jects! — all subjects; except me!" In that respect, though, he was not entirely singular. Colonnade Hotel, Philadelphia, March 16, 1891. My Dear Winter: — I have decided to open at the Garden on May 18th with a transcription of Rudyard Kipling's "The Light That Failed." I had nothing to do with this transcription — it has been done entirely by Miss Cameron and Miss Sprague. / have been too busy with "Don Juan" — in whom I am very much interested. I will read to you what I have written. As "Don Juan" would need much costuming, and is a work of some importance (so I venture to think), I do not wish to do it at this season — but to wait until the fall. I hope "The Light That Failed" will prove successful — I shall play Dick: Miss Cameron Maisie: Ferguson Torphenotv. Have you read the book.'' It 144 LIFE OF MANSFIELD is a clever and touching story and I think taken from real life — indeed, I believe I know the people. With all affection. Ever yours, Richard. His fancy for plays about "The Man Without a Shadow" and "The Light That Failed" was soon discarded. The wish for novel subjects, though, was continuously present in his mind, and many themes for plays, and sometimes new plays them- selves, were considered, temporarily approved, and then rejected by him. At this time he had nearly decided to produce a play called "The Great House of Vanbrough," appearing in it as a typical old New York merchant, and at another time his preference inclined toward a play called "Gentleman Waiffe," based on Bulwer-Lytton's novel "What Will He Do With It?" He also thought of act- ing Cardinal Mazarin and Dean Swift, It was surprising that Mansfield did not, at this period of his career, lose heart and utterly break down. He was oppressed with a huge burden of debt; he had been disappointed, to a grievous extent, by the public neglect of liis costly revival of "Richard HI."; he was acting eight times a week; he was diligently occupied in the writing of his play of "Don Juan" (and much annoyed VARIED ACTIVITIES 145 because I would not favorably respond to his fre- quent requests for assistance in that task) ; he was acutely anxious about the unfinished tragedy of "Nero," and was urging his friend Mr. Sulhvan to complete that work; he was studying the part of Dickj in a play about Mr. Kipling's story of "The Light That Failed"; and frequently he was the object of harsh disparagement in newspapers, — an injustice which, naturally, prompted resentment and the disposition to "strike back." It was no wonder that he suffered, that he was often ill, and that his temper was exasperated. One speci- men of the abuse that followed him is here quoted, because its pubhcation was the cause of the explicit disclosure, already cited, of some of the truth relative to the authorship of "Beau Brummell": ... I suppose that Mansfield will devote all his time to "Beau Brummell," in which Boston people will take great interest, as, in a way, they claim its author. Besides that, many people here heard "Beau Brummell" read before Mans- field's manager read it. They will be interested to see how much truth there was in that nasty little report which was circulated in New York to the effect that Mansfield wrote much of that piece. I never heard much about Mansfield's cleverness with his tongue, though it is notorious that he can use it with effect when he is angry. However, it is not a part of his reputation — cleverness of speech. If he has tampered with the play, unless he has changed his humor, he should have written something in that would have enabled him to show his shapely figure, of which he used to be very 146 LIFE OF MANSFIELD proud. At least one must infer it from the fact that a few years ago, when a writer was at work on a play for him, he stipulated that the end of the act should be so arranged that he could come on in his bathing dress. . . . — From "The Boston Home Journal," March 28, 1891. The spiteful tone of that contemptible paragraph, commingling falsehood with meanness and malice, aptly exemplifies the insolence and mendacity with which, for some years, Mansfield was assailed in a section of the American press. The idea of "Beau Brummell" had been suggested to him early in 1887, and the first written document on that subject is dated November 26, of that year, — long before Mr. Fitch had ever met Mansfield or ever heard of "Beau Brummell." Reference to the "contract" (reproduced elsewhere in this memoir), which, in his indiscreet, heedless amiabihty, Mans- field gave to Mr. Fitch, will discover that it was dated November 11, 1889. Brooklyn, N. Y., April 4, 1891. My Dear Winter: — I enclose, of course, the clipping from the (Boston) "Home Journal," and I am looking forward with fiendish delight to your answer — (and which it is like your kindness and gen- erosity toward me, always, to write). You will certainly burst the frog! The paragraph about my desire to appear in a bathing-suit is extraordinary! I never discussed a play with anybody in Boston but T. Russell Sullivan and I am, I think. A LITERARY FEAT 147 the very last man to desire to appear in a bathing-suit. Heaven forfend! It's bad enough at Narragansett ! But this discloses the fact that the author of the paragraph at one time or another probably sent me a play which was declined. . . . You have no conception how greatly your visit yesterday has cheered and encouraged me — of how much good you have done me ! — and what result your words will have on my future ! You are my dearest and best friend, and I hope I may never in my life be forgetful of your kindness! Ever yours, Richard Mansfield. Before the end of April the tragedy of "Don Juan" was finished by Mansfield, while in Boston, where, this time, he prospered, and the completion of his task seemed to set him up in hope. The Brunswick, Boston, April 22, 1891. My Dear Winter: — The play is finished — I sat at it all day yesterday, Sunday — from nine in the morning until six and completed the last act. I locked myself in and remained without food — Beatrice came then to hear me read it to her and I broke down and became hysterical. I think I shall never attempt any such task again. Please God it may be a success. Beyond altering the close of the Second Act and rehearsals, study and the playing of it, nothing now remains to be done. . . . "Don Juan" ends sadly — it would be impossible for me to close the work otherwise, and death dignifies the whole. I have given him a touch of Ophelia (in one of the wanderijigs of his mind I have stolen a description from your lovely book) — what a sweet beautiful book it is — I hope we may both be spared to take those rambles together. I cannot write this 148 LIFE OF MANSFIELD morning — my head buzzes — my hand trembles — there is a dis- sipation in work as in pleasure. My writing of "Don Juan" will be bitterly attacked — I see that articles are being spat out concerning the relations of author and actor, and the actor is being told that he thinks a great deal too much of himself. He always did — poor Devil! he never could get anybody else to think about him at all. Come on, and let us sit and abuse this very pretty world, for the people that are in it. Come on! Yours ever, Richard Mansfield. The "Home Journal," "The Saturday Evening Gazette" (Wolff) attack me with much and bitter venom. We have, however, so far, played to very fine houses. The dramatic critic of the "Gazette" at that time, was Benjamin E. Wolff, since deceased, — a man of exceptional talent, rigorous in judgment and often severe in censure. He was also a dramatist, and he is remembered as the author of "The Mighty Dollar," in which play that excellent actor, the late William James Florence, gave so much pleasure and gained so much popularity, as Hon. Bardwell Slote. His criticism of Mansfield, probably, did no harm. "Paper pellets" do not injure any man who is using such talent as he possesses, in an honor- able manner, for the good of others as well as of himself, but it was ever difficult to persuade him to disregard them, although, in later years, he avoided, to some extent, the reading of newspapers. COUNSEL 149 New Brighton, Staten Island, April 23, 1891. Dear Richard: — I am delighted to hear that your play of "Don Juan" is finished. Your decision to end it with death is, unquestionably, wise. There could be no other artistic close. I think there ought to be a slight, vague, evanescent tone of omen, — perhaps in an occasional strain of music, — all the way through the piece. I regret you have been made ill. Be very careful of your health. Don't read newspapers, and don't write any more let- ters or allow any interviews. . . . Do not mind the words that are written against you. It is only fruit-trees that are stoned, — as the wise Spanish proverb says. Read your "Don Quixote" and be happy. I have every confidence in the success of Juan. I wish I could read it before you produce it: but I cannot come to Boston. I cannot leave my work. I am surrounded with difficulties. We all are! Do you begin at the Garden Theatre with "Don Juan".'' and on what date.'' I am glad you like my "Gray Days," and I wish we could ramble together in that lovely land. Always truly yours, William Winter. The Albion, Baltimore, „ _ April 29, 1891. My Dear Winter: — ... I return to town next week. I shall produce "Don Juan" either May 18 or May 25. We may not be ready before the latter date. I find the Second Act needs re-writing in part, and it worries me. However it has to be done — please God it may be a success, so that I may rest a little — I am almost tired out. . . . I hear that "Frederick Lemaitre" was a mass of rubbish founded upon a good little story taken from a French news* 150 LIFE OF MANSFIELD paper. The language, I hear, is empty persiflage — and that is all that young man can do; he is a windbag. . . . He has gone to Europe to produce "all his plays"! The beautiful weather sets me a-longing for the country. I am ever cooped up within doors. I never see the trees and the flowers in the country (unless thro' a railroad carriage window). I am weary, weary. Pray come to town as soon as I get back — I need you. I am disgruntled and I have one of my "throw everything away" moods upon me. Yours ever, Richard Mansfield. Early in May he once more appeared in the capital, beginning, at the Garden Theatre, with "Beau Brummell." On May 18 he presented "Don Juan," for the first time on any stage, and he acted the hero of it with consummate skill, splendid vigor, and touching effect. The occasion was one of uncommon interest. The audience was large and not only genial but enthusiastic in its denotements of approbation. The verdict of the metropolitan press, on the next day, was, with some exception, favorable. Yet the play immedi- ately languished, and, after a few neglected repre- sentations, it was withdrawn. My first impression of it, which, after careful reading of the piece (it was pubHshed in November, 1891), remains unchanged, was expressed to Mansfield in the fol- lowing note: A RUEFUL AUTHOR 151 After the Play, May 18, 1891,-3 o'clock in the morning of the IQth. Dear Old Friend: — I have only time to write a word. It should be one of congratulation to you, on your brilliant success. You have made out of the old story of "Don Juan" a beautiful play, — in which there is no blemish. And your performance is full of loveliness and thought. I have begun the making of a version of for you, but you won't want to do it for a long time yet. Make the most of your success and bt^ppiness. God bless you! Faithfully yours, William Winter. R. M. On this note, — wliich, with others used in this biography, was returned to me by Mrs. Mansfield, after her husband's death, — the rueful author had written, with pencil, these words: "This play was an awful failure: not a soul came to see it! ?" "Don Juan" deserved a better fate, since it is a novel and interesting play. Instead of helping him to pay his debts, however, it served only to retard him in that business, — to which, meanwhile, he had been giving diligent attention. When with- drawn, it was succeeded by revivals of the well- worn plays of Iiis old repertory, on which he could still depend. On March 26, 1891, Mansfield and his company had come to Staten Island and given a perform- 152 LIFE OF MANSFIELD ance at the theatre of the German Club, at Staple- ton, for the benefit of the Arthur Winter Memorial Library, in the Staten Island Academy, appear- ing in "Prince Karl." This was an unasked, but gratefully appreciated, act of kindness, — ^that Library having been founded to commemorate a deceased member of my family, and being an object of my solicitous care. One of the comedian's auditors, at the representation of "Prince Karl," was the eminent orator and writer, George William Curtis, who, speaking to me, after the performance had ended, aptly designated Mansfield's embodi- ment of the whimsical Prince as "the perfection of fooling," and warmly extolled the vigor, the sus- tained vivacity, and the fine finish with which the part had been acted. Mr. Curtis also lauded the performance, in one of his peculiarly graceful Easy Chair papers, in "Harper's Magazine." That com- mendation became known to Mansfield, and natu- rally, it gave him pleasure to be praised by one of the most accompHshed men of our time. The Croisic, New York, May 28, 1891. My Dear Winter: — I was honored and delighted with the kind and generous words of Mr. Curtis, and I take the liberty of enclosing a note to him, which perhaps you will be kind enough to forward? "Don Juan" is much improved I think — in appearance cer- "AT NERO" 153 tainly and I hope you will think so. I have been bitterly and cruelly attacked — so much so that for some days I trod the stage with almost shame. The hesitation and doubt of myself has not passed away. Ethel and Beatrice have been very good to me and constantly tell me all manner of flattering lies to keep up my courage and self-esteem — so needful to the miserable play-actor. Something else should be put in rehearsal at once — for we cannot afford to lose any money: $167;,000 is enough in any one man's lifetime, and the wolves who are howling for my blood should know that. I am thinking of a Dickensonian character: you once sug- gested that: what say you now.'' Will you come and talk it over? Yours, Richard Mansfield. The spring season of 1891 was extended into the summer, when the tireless actor allowed himself to pause, — but not for long. Early in the autumn he reappeared. The next new production that he effected was that of "Nero," the tragic play which his friend Sullivan had for some time been occupied in composing, under his counsel and urgency, and which was performed, for the first time on any stage, at the Garden Theatre, New York, September 21, — winning some critical favor, but failing to win the necessary practical support of public approbation. It happened to me to be abroad, for a while, in that year, and our interchange of letters became less frequent. He failed not, however, to write to me about "Nero," and in one letter he sent glad tidings of the most fortunate event of his experience. 154 LIFE OF MANSFIELD September 4, 1891. My Dear Winter: — I can only send you one hasty word of thanks for your kind, beautiful letter. I am in all the turmoil of preparation for the production of "The Tragedy of Nero/' and it is with serious concern that I learn of your postponed return to this country. It seems to me that America becomes more and more a province of England, and that everything that is good and beautiful here seems to yearn to live there. I do, and I am both good and beautiful! "Nero" will be played Septem- ber 21 and is a Tragedy, pur et simple, and the people will probably damn it. I announce to you my engagement — or the engagement to me of — of sweet and beautiful Beatrice. We shall be married in England next summer and I trust I may prevail upon you to accompany us. Beatrice has refused me seven times seven. Ever your friend, Richard Mansfield. In your wanderings see what you can find for me, in the shape of some lovely spot by the sea-coast where we may dwell in peace? You know what I like. In his domestic life Mansfield was peculiarly fortunate. On September 15, 1892, while acting at Daly's Theatre, he wedded the actress known on the stage as Beatrice Cameron, — ^in private life Miss Susan Hegeman. The marriage occurred at the Church of the Redeemer, Eighty-second Street, in New York. With that companion, — an affec- tionate, devoted wife, appreciative of his virtues, sympathetic with his ambition, careful of his health, tolerant of his idiosyncrasy, helpful in his labor, and provident in his interest, he passed the remainder Photograph lij KutUl BEATRICE CAMERON {Mrs. Mansfield) MARRIAGE 155 of his days, in as much happiness as it was possible for his restless spirit to know. Without his wife's counsel, comfort, and guidance, indeed, Mansfield, probably, would have become even a more bitter cynic than the Alceste whom he represented so well, and, almost certainly, he would have worn himself out much sooner than he did, by injudicious ventures and by hopeless warfare with the world. They had one child, a son, born August 3, 1898, named George Gibbs, — the name of George having been given to him in compliment to the daughter of one of their intimate friends. Soon after the marriage Mansfield wrote to me, November 8, 1892: ". . . You are right. Beatrice and I are, — at least / am, with her, — completely happy. She is more beautiful every day. She is completely and absolutely good. I can find (and I am a severe critic) in her not one fault. She is the soul of goodness, and appears to possess every virtue. I am lost in wonderment that any being can be so. ..." Another glimpse of the gentle spirit of his Beatrice is here afforded: Pla7a Hotel, New York, My Dear Winter: — November 7, 1891- We go to Boston on Sunday by the 11 o'clock train from the Grand Central, and I stay at the Copley Square Hotel (a new house). Poor Beatrice went to Troy on Wednesday — to the bedside of her dying brother Byram. The enclosed telegram tells its 156 LIFE OF MANSFIELD own sad tale. Byram Hegeman was only sixteen years old, and Beatrice was deeply attached to him. She had sent him to school and had taken all the cares of his education upon her- self. He seems to have been beyond others bright and gentle and affectionate. She took great pride in him. It is a terrible blow — an incomprehensible ordaining. It seems that those beautiful words, "Es ist bestimmt in Gotte's Rath" — it is ordained by God's decree that those who love must parted be — are true. I feel the blow for Beatrice's sake almost as keenly as she must — and I fear she is almost heart-broken. I would you were with her. I can write no more just now. . . . Ever yours, Richard Mansfield. As he had prognosticated the doom of "Nero," — namely, that, being a tragedy, it would be damned, — he might, perhaps, have been expected to meet the catastrophe with some degree of philosophic composure, but he had built a golden hope upon that play, and the ill-fortune which it encountered greatly annoyed him. His impatience was freely expressed; sometimes in a way to exacerbate already existent newspaper animosities. In the winter sea- son of 1891-'92, he made a tour, using the old plays, but, privately inciting and assisting the com- position of new ones. The subjects upon which his choice then fell were Samuel Warren's fantastic novel of "Ten Thousand a Year" and Hawthorne's solemn, pathetic, heart-rending romance of "The Scarlet Letter." Plwtograph by Path Bros.. \riv Yorl; MANSFIELD AND HIS SON GEORGE GIBBS MANSFIELD VI. 1892. Early in 1892 Mansfield's book of music called "One Evening" was published. It contains fourteen compositions, alternately serious and humorous; it provides, in the hands of a competent performer, a complete entertainment for a miscellaneous audience, and it is particularly felicitous in playful satire of musical conventionalities. Some of its melodies, suggestive of the style of Dr. Arne, are delicious in their tenderness of feehng and their simplicity. The characteristics of the work are refinement, piquancy, vigor, and grace, and it is strikingly indicative of poetic fancy and versatile faculty of expression. The first theatrical novelty that he furnished to the public in that season was the drama of "Ten Thousand a Year," written for him, at his sugges- tion and under his advisement, by Miss Emma V. Sheridan. On board Private Car, "Pilgrim/' My dear Winter: — February 6, 1892. .... I am going away now, for a week only, and then return to the Garden Theatre — an engagement I dread, not 157 158 LIFE OF MANSFIELD only because I seem to arouse the animosity of most of the writers on the N. Y. dailies, but on account of , who dislikes me as much as I despise and abhor him. He is a low brute — lower, I think, than any animal our natural histories have made us acquainted with! This coming week I go to Troy, Norwich, Hartford, and for three nights to Providence. Owing to the bad hotels and the much work I have on my hands I shall live on the car. . . . I should like you to go with us to San Francisco. We start April 11, from New York. I shall have my own car, and a good cook; we shall have a bath, piano, etc., all the comforts of home — and I have thought you might write an amusing book, of the trip — a book written in a whimsical vein — remarks by the way; of our adventures, of all that befalls us; about people and places. We should both have odd fancies and ideas. What do you say? Regarding "Ten Thousand a Year," I fear it's not much in your vein; altho' I do not know why — it's quaint and comical, and with a touch of pathos, born of Tittlebat's true love for Terese Tagrag, the daughter of his former employer. Tessy will be played by Beatrice, of course. I can't send you the play to read, for it's all in shreds and patches, like a quilt. But I return, February 15, to New York, and surely you can find one hour, after the play, for me? My first week at the Garden I shall devote to repertory — Wednesday "The Weather- vane," my new name for "Don Juan," since the old one fright- ened the ladies. God bless you, dear old fellow; I wish I saw more of you — what a demnition grind it is ! Yours always, Richard M. On February 15, 1892, he appeared at the Gar- den Theatre, as Beau Brummell, and on immediately succeeding nights he acted Prince Karl, Don Juan "TEN THOUSAND A YEAR" 159 (then called by the new name of "The Weather- vane"), Chevrial, and Jekyll and Hyde. A special rehearsal of "Ten Thousand a Year" was, I remem- ber, attended by his admiring friend Col. E. A. Buck, — one of the best of good fellows, — and by me ; and because neither of us expressed enthusiastic approval of the play, Mansfield, on the eve of pro- duction, resentfully remarking "You can pick even 'Othello' to pieces, if you choose to make fun of it," dejectedly declared that he would discard his new piece. The venture had, in a financial way, been made; the play was ready, the opening had been announced, and it was essential, having gone so far, to go on to the end. Yet Mansfield, impulsive and mercurial, could with difficulty be reassured and persuaded to give the performance. The cause of his doubt was that, although interested in the character of Tittlebat^ he knew, from the beginning, that it was useless for the stage, and he found his secret judgment ratified. His performance was a capital exposition of the technical art of acting, but it won no public support. The play was presented on February 23, and it had a career of three weeks. The rest of the engagement, which lasted till April 9, was devoted to repetitions of old parts. Twice he reverted to "Titmouse," but the play was always a disappointment to him. 160 LIFE OF MANSFIELD 4 West 28th Street, New York, March 11, 1892. My Dear Winter: — . . . "Ten Thousand a Year" was put on a week too soon, and it is no doubt great rubbish, but it was the only thing that offered — there was absolutely nothing else, and to have attempted a tragedy would have meant a great financial loss. Heaven only knows what we are drifting to — nobody writes plays, and everybody but you discourages sincere and ambitious effort — it is quite enough for me to announce a new play for the hornets to gather. I shall, probably, have to give up any attempt in this city. I should like to consult with you — can you find time to come to my new ranch? . . . Always your grateful friend, Richard Mansfield. It was made known to me, at this time, that Augustin Daly (1838-1899),— long the foremost of American dramatic managers, as he continued to be till his death, — ^had thought of forming a com- bination that would directly compete, in serious drama and in tragedy, with the powerful alliance of Henry Irving and Ellen Terry. No motive is more conducive to excellence in the dramatic art than that of ambitious emulation, and as soon as Daly spoke to me on this subject, wliich he did very earnestly, my sympathy was enlisted. His purpose, not positively defined but clearly indicated, was to present Miss Ada Rehan in more massive characters than any that she had yet assumed, and he discussed with me the expediency of her appearance as Queen ALLIANCE 161 Margaret, in "Henry VI." and "Richard III.," as Lady Macbeth, and as Cleopatra, in sumptuous revivals of Shakespearean tragedy. An imperative prehminary to the accompHshment of such a pur- pose was the engagement of an actor of proved abihty in tragic parts, and of commanding reputa- tion. It seemed to me that, beyond question, Mans- field was the actor, but I doubted if he was the man. His pecuharities and those of Daly were known to me. With Mansfield, always, where Mac- gregor sat was the head of the table. Daly, one of the greatest of stage-managers, was, neverthe- less, prone to over-scrupulous interference with his actors, in matters alike of ideal and execu- tion. Nevertheless I ventured to suggest to Mans- field the idea of a professional union with Daly. He seemed much pleased, at first, declaring that such an association, if practicable, might relieve him from the cares of management, of wliich he was very weary, and at the same time open a wide field of artistic opportunity. He had not then acted Shylock, and he especially remarked on the possi- bility of appearing in that character, with Ada Rehan as Portia. After considerable meditation on the subject, — for he was a little hesitant about maldng an overture, — JNIansfield wrote to me as follows : 162 LIFE OF MANSFIELD 4 West 28tli Street, New York, March 13, 1892. My dear Winter: — ... I now wish to ask you if you would see Mr. Daly for me. I am greatly hampered for want of a theatre and at the same time I fear to load myself with its responsibilities, when I have already so much on my hands. It occurs to me that the following arrangement could be made: That Mr. Daly should divide his seasons equally between Miss Rehan and myself: i.e., that he should produce, for a part of the season, plays in which Miss Rehan would be prominent, and that she should then (greatly to Mr. Daly's advantage) visit the principal cities, — when I would come in and produce, in conjunction with and under Mr. Daly's management, such plays as we might mutually agree upon and devise. I think in this way great plays could be done at Mr. Daly's Theatre. We could go into all the arcliaeology of the things, and we could paint and dress our plays as they have never been dressed and painted before. I should be associated with a man who is certainly sincere in his devotion to the Arts. Of course Miss Cameron would be with me as my principal support — but, outside of that, Mr. Daly's forces would assist me: — i.e., Mr. Daly would have a sufficiently large army to support both ]\Iiss Rehan and myself, and he would be able to change them about in accordance with the exigencies of the plays produced. I draw very large houses in the country, and I would, of course, give Mr. Daly a handsome percentage of my earnings out of the metropolis. If such an arrangement as I propose could be effected with Mr. Daly I should be, of course, under Mr. Daly's management and we could always play to advanced prices in the country, and I think Mr. Daly would be master of the two most power- ful organizations in America. What do you say.'' Will you, as a mutual friend, submit to Mr. Daly this project.'' DALY 163 When shall I see you? With all good greetings Truly always your grateful friend Richard Mansfield. N. B. — I may add that I am urged to this combination with Mr. Daly very largely by the fact that upon every side new Theatres, managed by speculators only, are springing up, and that Mr. Daly is the only man in this country who seems to have the interests of art at heart, and that I must stand shoulder to shoulder with the older man. In submitting that letter to the attention of Daly I suggested that it might prove feasible to form an alliance with Mansfield for a term of years and to begin with a splendid production of "The Merchant of Venice," and supplement that with a magnificent revival of "Antony and Cleo- patra." But, with my private opinion of what was hkely to happen when Mansfield came upon Daly's stage to rehearse, and Daly began to direct, I asked the latter: "Do you think that you and Mansfield can work together in harmony?" "Oh, yes," he repHed; "I shall have one grand row, at first, as I did with Fechter, and after that there will be no trouble. It has always been so." Knowing both men exceedingly well I could not take that rosy view of the probable event. Mansfield, however, was apprized that Daly wished to confer with him, and during two or three months negotiations were pending between them. 164 LIFE OF MANSFIELD 4 West 28th Street, N. Y. March 23, 1892. My Dear Winter: — I am very grateful to you for your kindness in speaking to Mr. Daly for me, and I should much like to meet him. But any arrangement which would leave out Miss Cameron would, of course, be impossible, in view of our approaching alliance. I am anxious to see Lord Tennyson's play, and I hope to be able to do so. I fear Englishmen will take a poor view of Americans, and their reception of Lord Tennyson's work, from "The Herald," which, I am sorry to say, is more read in Eng- land, and more quoted, than any other journal from here, — and it is to be deeply regretted that such an incompetent and conceited and brutal numskull should be allowed to write as he does of the noble work ]\Ir. Daly has so beautifully and gener- ously produced. . . . Yours always, Richard Mansfield. The play, by Tennyson, to which this letter alludes, is "The Foresters," which was produced at Daly's Theatre, New York, March 18, 1892, and was performed there, much to the enjoyment of the public, till the afternoon of April 23, — the season closing that night, with "As You Like It." In "The Foresters" Ada Rehan acted Marian, and gave a beautiful performance. That play was originally written for Henry Irving, who suggested to Tennyson the introduction of the Fairies, and had intended to act the gallant and generous outlaw, Robin Hood, wliile Ellen Terry would have assumed the character of Marian: but, ultimately, Irving HIS CLUB ROOM 165 did not find the drama practicable for liis use. Later it was obtained by Daly, who, with the author's reluctant consent, made changes in it, — transposing an act and providing ingenious and beautiful pageantry, with lovely music, by Sir Arthur SulU- van, — and successfully produced it. Various obstacles prevented an immediate meeting between Daly and JNIansfield, though both were wishful that it should occur. Meanwliile the actor wrote as follows: 4 West 28th Street, March 28, 1892. My Dear Winter: — I suppose I ought to have been more explicit in my telegram to you, or did you, perhaps, never get it? I suggested a meet- ing for last evening, and I hoped you would come; refused some invitations, and passed a solitary and doleful night, — most mournful. I should be very happy to meet Mr. Daly, if it can be done, and have a good long talk with him, — but we are both busy men; / especially so, just now, with all these preparations going forward. But any night you say — here, where no one will see us; after the play; we three, and pipes, in my Club Room. (I have a Club Room all to myself — it is my own Club — I have elected you President — it is called "The Winter Club" — we have churchwarden pipes — at least I have — and drinks; there are three pictures on the wall in the room: Winter, the Prince of Wales, and myself — and I'm d if I know which of the three is the greater villain !) If this — if anything — is to be done in this matter, it must be brought about at once, as otherwise I shall have to close with the Fifth Avenue Theatre; stay out of New York altogether I 166 LIFE OF MANSFIELD cannot. I want to see you at once, on many subjects. " Nero," of course, you can read — if you want to: / shouldn't! Will you come up to-morrow? — if so I'll sleep until four in the afternoon, and get up to receive you. I have lost about $8,000 this time, in New York, and I am feeling particularly light and buoyant; there is no heavy, weighty, bloated, ponderance about me! I'm all for lightness and airiness; in fact, I shouldn't wonder if I went up — up — up, altogether. Come and see me. Would Mr. Daly drop all ceremony, and come with you .'' Or must we all be Dry-as-dusts .'' Ever your grateful friend, Richard Mansfield. An appointment was made. The high contract- ing powers were to meet. Good results might have followed. I cannot tell, nor does it signify now. Mansfield, always quick at taking fancies, was at times suspicious and prone to believe himself the object of wily intrigue. I was not surprised, accord- ingly, to receive the subjoined letter, which suffi- ciently indicated that these negotiations would reach no practical result. 4 West 28th Street, April 1, 1892. My Dear Winter: — I am sorry I could not meet Mr. Daly on Wednesday, for I play a matinee on that day. It would be out of the question for me to give up my position as an actor and enter Mr. Daly's company. Why should I.'' My profits, according to my books, show $2,000 a week. If I spend it, that is my business. But it will be time enough when I am a failure to think of stepping down from my perch. I desire to do great plays and to do them greatly, and I desire to do new things. The world must A CORRESPONDENCE 167 move on — on — not back, and I shall move on also; perhaps up — perhaps out. Always yours, Richard Mansfield. N. B. — I need not say that I shall be most happy to meet Mr. Daly — I have long desired to know him. Mansfield and Daly met and talked, for an hour, on April 6, — not in my presence, but I was sub- sequently informed of their interview. Notliing came of it. JNlansfield, however, at that time, declared Daly to be a delightful man. Each pos- sessed strong will, dogged determination, and great self-confidence. Both could be charming, when they wished to be ; neither was readily compHable with cir- cumstances. They never could have agreed. They continued to correspond, however, for some time, and this episode of theatrical liistory is instructively illustrated by the letters that Mansfield addressed to Daly, while the project of their alliance was under consideration. 4 West 28th Street, New York, April 8, 1892. My Dear Mr. Daly: — We are in such a rush and whirl of work, and I have such a peculiarly hard day's work before me, that I cannot come across to see you, as I sliould wish to do. And I do not even know that I can very clearly reply to your question. One thing is very distinct in my mind, and that is the impossi- bility and the inadvisability of making an appearance here other- 168 LIFE OF MANSFIELD wise than as a star of the first magnitude. I owe that much to the managers of other cities, who render me 65, 70 and 80 per cent, of the receipts. Otherwise I am glad and happy (more happy than I can say) to make any arrangement whereby I should gain the benefit of your advice and experience and your admirable management. It seems to me that, as I should have to travel with the production, instantly upon the termination of the season at your Theatre, I should be supported by the company that has played with me there. It seems to me that that company should be selected and engaged by you, and that they should be under your direction: of course this company should be engaged with a view to its ability to play my repertoire, as many cities require me to play such plays of mine as have become popular, and in very many cities I have not yet appeared at all — I think I should like: "Mr. Richard Mansfield supported by Mr. Daly's Company and under the management of Mr. Augustin Daly." It seems to me that, with my strength in the country, this combination would be as successful as the late Barrett and Booth arrangement — and more satisfactory — in New York proper. Whenever I play at your Theatre I am satisfied with a salary — or any arrangement you would make. I should stipulate that Miss Cameron should always appear in my support, if there is any suitable part. It's a great pity I may not see you. I do not think letters are satisfactory — there is so much to be said pro and con. I leave to-morrow, at 4.30, from Weehawken. If you would be very gracious and take a day off? I have my car and we could settle everything and chat quietlj^ — but, as I have already said, any arrangement whereby I am enabled to give all my attention to acting, and which does not lessen my position but which must heighten my position, is satisfactory to me. With kindest regards and a thousand apologies for this inco- herent scrawl. Most truly yours always, Richard Mansfield. AUGUSTIX DALY IX 1892 GOOD INTENTIONS 169 On Private Car. Los Angeles, May 20, 1892. My Dear Mr. Daly: — I thank you for your letter, and which I was awaiting with impatience. I quite comprehend all you say, and I wish with all my heart that it could be otherwise. I would very gladly give up a large share of my profits to be with such a master as you, and to be guided and directed by you. But I cannot sink my identity, and I cannot give up the little I have accom- plished in the past years of incessant labor. My name must be upon my banner as the actor; — the management, and all authority and authorship, I will joyfully relinquish. I am exceedingly ambitious and I confess it. I desire to produce great plays and to play them greatly, and with God's aid I shall accomplish this. If I could have such a man as you by my side it would be accomplished sooner. I have no Theatre, I have no workshop, I have little or no management. I should like to acquire the management and the workshop and I should like advice and guidance. I cannot very well see myself always — which is as unfortunate as it is fortimate. The scheme I had in mind does not seem to mieet with your approval. It was simply that, when your own special company was away from your Theatre, you should play me and my company, or me supported by a company of yours. But, failing this, I shall be glad to play in your Theatre, and I shall be very glad and very grateful for your advice. If this meets with your approval all that remains is for us to arrange the time, and to settle on the play. If for the latter you can advise me, or if you can supply me, I should indeed be glad. I had almost ventured to hope that you would take sufficient interest in me to find the play and the company, and whatever terms you might indicate I should be most happy to accept. ]\Iy books are always open to you, and you will see that I make an average profit (with an expense of $2,200, — $2,300 a week), of from $1,000 to $2,000 a week; my responsibilities in the past have been very heavy, and are so still, and I could 170 LIFE OF MANSFIELD not therefore afford to do less well than I have been^ and am, doing. Please believe me to be, dear Mr. Daly, with great regard. Always yours truly, KicHARD Mansfield. To Augustin Daly, Esqr. Portland, Ore., Monday, June 6, 1892. My Dear Mr. Daly: — I am in receipt of your letter, for which accept my best thanks. I have said I shall be delighted to play with you and under your direction. With regard to M. Coquelin's version of "The Taming of the Shrew": it occurs to me that it would be quaint to play a Frenchman's version of Shakespeare translated back into Eng- lish. It seems to me "une chose impossible." I might play it in French and I should be glad to do so — but in English, No • — it would be too queer. I fear there could be but one cry: What is the matter with Shakespeare? Then, too, who could play Katharina after Miss Rehan? Who would? I fear this is not to be done, unless — as I have said — I did it in French. Jerome's translation of "Die Ehre," on the other hand, seems an excellent idea, and one I should be glad to entertain, if, after reading the play, I find the character I should have to present suitable and interesting, — which, since you think it so, no doubt it is. (I interject a little idea here — some day, when we want to sweep the country, let us play "The ^lerchant of Venice," — Miss Rehan as Portia, and for me Shyloch, with an ideal Venice. Lewis as Launcelot Gobbo, etc., etc.) The terms you mention are perfectly satisfactory. It would be, in my opinion — and I speak from experience — idle to open with "Beau Brummell/' or any of my well-worn plays, in New York. We need more than a success d'estime, — we need money, and "Beau B." will not, for a year to come, draw one dollar NAPOLEON 171 in New York. Nor any of my plays, excepting "Richard III./* and of that I have no longer the scenery. I have an idea, which I advance with considerable hesitation, and which has been in my mind for some years, and in which, from what I can gather, there is a large amount of money, but it will, in its execution, demand an enormous amount of care and thought, some literary effort and some money. It is "Napoleon Bonaparte." I should call the play simply "Napoleon Bonaparte," and I should deal with the subject from the period of his assumption of the imperial purple to the time of his lonely death on the Island of St. Helena. I wonder if you would help me with this? It would make a great popular play; it would appeal to all classes and all peoples. I should make Mme. Rdcamier the heroine. I should introduce the beloved Queen Louisa of Prussia, Josephine, and Marie Louise of Austria. I beg you, in any event, to consider this suggestion absolutely confidential, and it is, I feel, hardly necessary for me to say this. I do not know where to address this, so I send it to the Hollis Street Theatre, in the hope that it may reach you. I do earnestly hope I may be able to arrange to play in your home, but it has to be swiftly decided, as others are waiting to hear from me with regard to that time (in September). Most truly yours, Richard Mansfield. After this affair had passed, as there was no secret about the matter, I chanced to mention to Irving my propitious view of a professional alhance between Mansfield and Miss Rehan. He smiled, in his satiric manner, and playfully remarked: "Very interesting — ah, yes, very. So you wanted to put another Richmond in the field, eh? Daly's 172 LIFE OF MANSFIELD been up to that for a long time: he wanted Terriss to leave me and come over to him." Well; there cannot be too many Richmonds in the field; every good actor in a position of influence is a stimulant to other good actors, and so I told him, and with that rational proposition he fully agreed. The only practical result of the correspondence was an agreement that Mansfield's next appearance in the capital should be made at Daly's Theatre. Daly did not abandon his plan of forming a pro- fessional combination to oppose that of Irving. He not only negotiated with William Terriss, — an actor whose performances of Squire Thornhill, in "Olivia," and Henry the Second, in "Becket," had he done nothing else, were such as entitle him to honorable remembrance in theatrical annals, — but also con- templated a proposal of the project to Herbert Beerbohm-Tree, and he once thought of effecting it with Mr. Kyrle Bellew — who, indeed, in association with Mrs. Cora Urquhart Potter, acted under his management, in the season of 1895-'96. At the last it was his purpose to accomplish this design by the choice of some young, rising actor, who might prove amenable to his instruction; and he encouraged high expectations as to the future of both Sidney Herbert and Tyrone Power. His untimely death, however, blasted that plan, together IN CALIFORNIA 173 with many other plans and hopes for the advance- ment and welfare of the stage. In the spring of 1892 Mansfield made a visit to that romantic section of our country, California. He had been seen there as Rifflardini and Chevrial; his advent, in new characters, was warmly welcomed. He became, in time, exceedingly fond of CaH- fornia, bought an orange ranch there, and even thought of making his home there; but his first impressions of the Golden State were not favorable, and he communicated them to me, in a highly char- acteristic strain of banter and censure. He knew that I possessed a little cottage in the San Ber- nardino Valley, near the wonderful Sierra JNIadre range, to which I had expressed the intention to retire, in order to spend, in peaceful seclusion, the last days of a long, laborious Hfe, — a purpose which he did not then deem wise. His California engage- ment began on April 18, at the Baldwin Theatre, San Francisco, with "Beau Brummell." This was his first letter from the Pacific coast: On my car. Valencia & 25th Streets, San Francisco, April 26, 1892. My Dear Winter: — Just a line to say all's well. Business not what many people would have one imagine at a distance — but exceedingly good; 174 LIFE OF MANSFIELD good enough to make a very handsome profit, and I don't believe that anybody does any better. They are queer people here, and very primitive; as for critics, there are none, — but lots of flies; and one side of the street is hot and the other side is cold, and there is an eternal wind blowing, like the tide of doom — I suppose it's the trade- wind. Earthquakes too, we have — and they're very funny; nobody seems to mind them at all. I am living on my car — it's like a yacht, and they have moved me out to Valencia — twenty minutes' ride, by cable car, from the Theatre. The air is good and there are flowers growing all around. I am happy and comfortable, out of the noises and the dust and the crowd and the jangle. San Francisco is the noisiest and most depraved city I have ever been in — it is quite horrible; and it takes a good deal to shock me. . . . Chinatown is interesting — it is a bit of old China trans- planted — even the houses are Chinese: in the Theatre there, they tell me, if an actor displeases, the audience shoots him ! Civiliza- tion has not advanced as far as that with us — thank Heaven ! . . . Always Your true and grateful Richard Mansfield. While in San Francisco he gave performances of Chevrial, Prince Karl, Titmouse, Nero, Jekyll and Hyde, and Don Juan. He subsequently- acted at Fresno, Los Angeles, Stockton, Sacra- mento, Tacoma, Seattle, Portland, Ogden, Salt Lake City, Denver, Lincoln, Sioux City, and Omaha, ending his tour, at the latter city, on July 2. From Los Angeles he wrote, in a vein of acrid discontent, — yet the place in which, not long afterward, he was DISCONTENT 175 inclined to settle and reside, is not a hundred miles distant from that hospitable and charming city: On Private Car; Los Angeles, Calif., May 20, 1892. My Dear Winter: — . . • Redlands may be very beautiful — but Los Angeles is not. It is red hot just now, and the town is suffering from scarlet fever and a religious meeting or convention: a person of the name of Mills is exhorting the miserable wretches, to the extent of 10,000 a day, to give up rum and everything else he doesn't like. The city itself is not beautiful, and everything is very primitive. The most painful feature of the city and its immediate vicinity is the lack of foliage — there are no trees, at least, very few, and therefore no shade. It is all sunshine and dust. Irrigation costs a lot of money, and there is no water. England will suit you better. The eye has no rest here — the mind no peace. Everybody is bragging — because there is nothing to brag about; the beauty of the country, — its mar- vellous resources; etc., etc., — is dinned into your ears with painful insistence, until you long to say, "Damn your coun- try !" — only one doesn't, and the result is that they really are beginning to believe in their own lying. Redlands may be a Paradise — but again, all this country is volcanic — earthquakes are constant — the country shook again yesterday, and that has an unpleasant sense of uncertainty and insecurity. Give me England — give me its lanes and hedges, its fields, the skylark, the soft blue sky, the purple haze on the middle distance, the pools and brooks, the rush-fringed rivers, the poplar and the willow, the old cobble church, the ruined arch above the village street, the simple rustic, the country inn, the home-brewed ale — give me England ! — and damn these electric cars and cable cars, in a damned hot wilderness, where you can't drink the damned alkali water, and where every man 176 LIFE OF MANSFIELD has a right to spit upon your boots, slap you on the back, and brag in your ear; where ignorance and arrogance own the day, and where your gentleness, learning, or gentility are cursed and derided ! You won't like it — you won't like it ! Sell it, and come and live with me and mine, in dear, still old England. Ever yours, Richard Mansfield. On his arrival home from the West he entered immediately upon preparation for a presentment of "The Scarlet Letter." A plaj'' had been written for him by the English novelist Joseph Hatton, and that subject, which he had long been consider- ing, now engrossed his thoughts. In this case, as in several kindred cases, he deemed that the play required revision and alteration, and he revised and altered it, preparatory to a private reading of it, at my home. 4 West 28th Street, New York, August 9, 1892. My Dear Winter: — It is hard work that keeps me here in mid-summer, and it is for that reason that I have not yet made my trip to Staten Island. I cannot come to you to-day, but I shall be with you to-morrow evening (Wednesday), without fail. I see no earthly reason why "The Scarlet Letter" should not be put upon the stage, especially if we cling close to Hawthorne. Surely there can be no ridiculous squeamishness concerning the subject — there is hardly a great play that does not deal with the same question, and "The Scarlet Letter" is given to school-girls to read. A FINE READING 177 As concerns Hawthorne, I have touched his work with great reverence. As concerns my playing Dimmesdale, it is as it may be. Yours ever, Richard Mansfield. The reading was duly given, on that August evening, the theme was much and freely discussed, and the spirit of the actor, always supersensitive, was, as far as possible, cheered and encouraged. I did not, however, and could not, believe that the subject of "The Scarlet Letter" would become widely popular when presented on the stage; I perceived not any exceptional felicity in the treat- ment to which it had been subjected; and I did not express the ardent conviction that the play would fulfil all his hopes and wishes. Mansfield, usually impatient under dissent from his opinions, did not conceal his annoyance that the play was not received with unbounded enthusiasm. His reading of it, meanwhile, was dehghtful, — far more interesting than any performance of it ever given: his sug- gested impersonations, in particular, of the two old beldames, Hartley and Barlow, were among the most life-like, natural, and effective that it has been my privilege to see; but he was not pleased on being told that they were preferred to his suggested imper- sonation of the wretched Dimmesdale, nor was he 178 LIFE OF MANSFIELD tolerant of even the slightest douht of the avail- ability of Hawthorne's story for theatrical illustra- tion. There is no "question" in "The Scarlet Letter," no "problem," no obtrusion of sophistical reasoning about unclean subjects, under the pre- tence of that sickening humbug the moral "lesson." The tale is one of domestic tragedy. Objection to it, for the purpose of the stage, in so far as objection could be made, or has been made, rests on its minutiae of mental analysis, its metaphysical nature (for drama should concern itself more with physics than with metaphysics), its pervasive atmosphere of still and mute agony, and its dense, unreheved gloom. It should be said, though, that Mansfield accomplished more with this theme than has been accomplished by any other actor that ever touched it. The play was produced by him on September 12, at Daly's Theatre, where it had a run of three weeks. His embodiment of Dimmes- dale was, from the first, deeply interesting to stu- dents of acting, but it was not, at the outset, the rounded, compact, sympathetic performance which subsequently it became, — for, in time, it largely gained in authority, distinction, and finish, and, at its best, was deeply impressive by reason of its melan- choly beauty, its pathos, and its thrilling outbursts of tragic emotion. Photoyraph, Elite Studio VII. 1893. Aftee the close (October 1, 1892) of his engage- ment at Daly's Theatre in "The Scarlet Letter," theatrical enterprise in New York being uncom- monly active and dramatic attractions being many and strong, Mansfield deemed it expedient to make a long tour, and he was not again seen in the capital until the autumn of the following year. In the meantime he acted in many cities, through- out the South and West, and made another visit to the Pacific coast; and it happened that, in the spring of 1893, we met in California, under circum- stances that were especially agreeable. San Francisco, on Private Car at Valencia & 25th Streets, May 4, 1893. My Dear Winter: — I was both delighted and surprised to hear from you and to discover that you are so near — and yet so far. Certes I must see you! You will see from the enclosed that we shall shortly be in your neighborhood, and where will you join us? It would, I presume, be futile to ask you to come here? Shall it be in Riverside? How I envy you — and yet rejoice to know of — that rest and peace you will find at Mentone. I should 179 180 LIFE OF MANSFIELD like to visit you and peek into it all; but I must hammer, ham- mer, hammer, on the hard, hard road! and there is no rest. Moreover I am awake day and night, wondering what I am going to do next. Since nobody writes plays, and nobody cares for those that have been written, I am in the utmost despair. To present Shakespeare requires a fortune, and I will not risk the little I have saved, in one venture. More- over, it is time Somebody did a little acting, and if I'm to give out my money I would rather bestow it where it will accomplish some lasting benefit and not squander it in paint and canvas and tinsel, of which I have already a vast store- house full, the contents of which won't fetch $5.00 and for which I pay $700 a year rent — like a d fool! And spent $40,000 or more on the d ed stuff. It's like that elephant you told me of: "That damned beast eats a ton of hay for breakfast!" I'm for plays without scenery — and without costumes, and in the latter respect I think I shall be hitting the fancy of the present day on the very head! How- ever, join me, and we will curse and damn everybody and everything to the Queen's taste — if she has any. . . . Yours ever, Richard Mansfield. They tell me Clement Scott has been here, and met a lady by appointment, and married her, and is full of curious ideas concerning Japan, — where he spent a day; he has also acquired a great and sudden admiration for America and Americans. Thank the Lord he isn't here now; or I might see him — and I don't imagine anything more horrible, for he always gives me the impression of a person who is just about to burst. We met at Riverside, where he acted before a numerous and enthusiastic audience, and from that place travelled to San Bernardino, and being then MENTONE 181 only twelve miles from my California home I was able to persuade him to come, with Mrs. Mansfield, and pass a day in our village. They came, accord- ingly, in his private car, which was placed on a side- track till evening, — when it would be needful for him to return to San Bernardino, to give a per- formance. Mentone is situated near the eastern extremity of one of the most beautiful valleys in the world. Eastward and northward the prospect is bounded by magnificent, rugged, snow-capped mountains. Southward there is a rolling country, backed by a view of distant mountain peaks. West- ward the spacious, widening valley, — here sprinkled with wild flowers and blooming with orange groves and vineyards, there bleak with broad, uncultivated stretches of "brush," — slopes gradually to the ocean, about ninety miles away. Mansfield no sooner saw the place than he became fascinated by it. The day was the 18th of May. The sunshine was glorious. Great masses of white cloud, — infrequent in those summer skies, — were drifting over the mountains. The cool air was fragrant "with the odor of roses and lemon blossoms. The landscape was perfec- tion. Flights of gleaming blackbirds winged over the valley. The sweet, liquid song of the meadow- lark was heard, mingled, now and then, with the low, soft double call of the nesting doves. At that 182 LIFE OF MANSFIELD time luxuriant rows of splendid trees fringed a fine stream of rushing water, a few rods from our dwelling. The whole region seemed a paradise. For an hour or two the delighted actor amused himself by rambling in the adjacent flower-spangled plains. Then, having returned to the house, for luncheon, he suddenly announced, "I must own a ranch here!" No one could, at first, believe that he was in earnest. "Is there a ranch for sale any- where about?" he asked. Orange groves were, gen- erally, "for sale" in California at that time, — it is even possible to purchase them now, — and he was informed that several neighboring groves were in the market, and that the nearest one, comprising twenty acres, had only lately been offered, at a price which was deemed reasonable. In an instant he rose, seized his hat, and started for the door. "Come with me, and let me see it," he said; and, of course, his wish was gratified, — since it was not, and could not be, supposed that he would, at once, without the least examination of the matter, precipitate himself into the business of raising oranges. The grove in ques- tion, duly burdened with the inevitable mortgage, was in possession of an old man and his wife. The quiet little hamlet had been much excited by the arrival of the distinguished actor, currently supposed to be another Croesus, and those old persons were A PIG IN A POKE 183 equally startled and enraptured on suddenly finding him at their door, intent on buying an estate which they were only too glad to sell. To them the advent of Mansfield, as a purchaser, seemed nothing less than a special providence, for they looked on him as another Vanderbilt or Huntington, the pos- sessor of fabulous wealth. Their genuine awe, in the august presence, did not, however, so far dis- sipate a sense of thrift as to prevent them from instantly raising the price of the property to a figure much higher than had previously been named. The moment it was mentioned Mansfield, without the slightest demur, agreed to pay it. A whispered warning, that he was being imposed upon and should pause and consider, was brusquely disregarded. "The affair is settled," he said: "Z am buying this ranch. Besides, these old people want to sell it, and they need the money. I like old people. I am always sorry for them. They need sympathy. We shall all be old, if we live long enough. Let us go and tell Beatrice." The agreement to buy an estate having been thus calmly and rationally made, — without a preliminary glance by which to ascertain anything about its condition, or even an inquiry as to how much of the land was under cultivation, — Mansfield accepted an orange, a "Mediterranean sweet," — the only orange, as it happened, that ever 184 LIFE OF MANSFIELD came to him from his ranch, — and, returning to my cottage, announced to Mrs. Mansfield, in the deep, booming voice he sometimes used when pleased and playful: "Bee-ah-trice, you are now the owner of an orange grove!" A day or two later, at Los Angeles, the legal obhgation, unhappily, was assumed, — Mansfield paying $1,000 and signing a contract to pay the rest, or forfeit his investment. He was earnestly, urgently, and in good time advised against this rash transaction, — for the judgment of Mrs. Mansfield, and of all his friends, was opposed to it : but he would not be prevented. The most that friendly interposition could effect was a reduction of the price stipulated, from $15,000 to $13,500. The ranch proved to be in a bad condition, — a consider- able part of it not having been even cleared of "brush" and stones. The price charged for it was, under then existing conditions, exorbitant. The ultimate result of the business was not only Mans- field's loss of the property and more than $3,000 that he had paid, but a protracted, wearisome, vexatious, iniquitous litigation. The season of 1893-'94< was full of troubles for him. His losses were heavy. His health was seriously impaired. He could not make the payments that he had agreed to make. The orange grove which thus distressed him and thus sHpped out of his hands has since been well culti- A SPECULATION 185 vated and has become very valuable. He called it "Mansfield," and, for a time, built golden dreams upon its ownersliip. It is marked, to this day, by a flower-covered pyramid of stones, in front of a crazy old house, — a relic of the beginning of abortive plans for a beautiful garden. I have always regretted that he ever saw the geranium hedges, the oleanders, and the red and yellow roses of beauti- ful Mentone. His proceedings, on the occasion of his visit to the retreat, however, afford an illumina- tive, authentic glimpse of his impulsive character and heedless prodigality. Mansfield's purchase of that orange farm, in such a haphazard way, was manifestly injudicious, yet beneath its recklessness there was a practical purpose, and one which, under favorable conditions, might have been prosperously effected. Later he dis- closed that purpose to me, speaking to this effect: "We will send to Scotland and secure, from the Dundee Company, the services of some man experi- enced in the manufacture of marmalade. Tons of it are eaten in this country, every year. It can be manufactured here better than in Scotland: here is the fresh fruit, and good markets are within reach, and even New York is no further from us than from them, — though the freight is higher. We will estab- lish our factory here : we will build up a business and 186 LIFE OF MANSFIELD gradually expand it; acquire more groves; put out lemons, olives, and figs, and, under the name of Mansfield, establish a fine paying industry. If we fail elsewhere, we have then this retreat: if we suc- ceed here, we have a source of income to sustain us in theatrical enterprise when we wish." — In his sanguine speculative mood this dreamer omitted to consider that, if the ranch as well as the acting were to fail, he would indeed have an elephant on his hands, and one that would, in the matter of "hay for breakfast," require considerably more than one ton. At the time of his purchase at Mentone it was not easy to restrain him from other rash ventures of the same kind. In one of his letters, after leaving California, he wrote: "I think if an offer were made of $1,000 cash, for ten acres, adjoining my property, toward the Santa Ana river, it would be accepted, for what they all want is Cash! I do not know who owns that land, but I should like to extend my property that way, for I think the land is just as good there, and I want to grow things, and not to speculate. If it can be done, a check for $1,000 can be had from me, on receipt of the title. On this ten acres I should like to have a pond built, and olives planted." As Mansfield did not know by whom that land was owned, and as he was absent from the scene. EDWIN BOOTH 187 it was possible to restrain his alacrity of invest- ment in agricultural enterprise, but for a few weeks he continued to be wildly enthusiastic about his orange grove. Some of the plans that he made during the continuance of that day-dream indicate both the generosity of his disposition and his innate love of beauty. I know not with how many impe- cunious veterans he purposed to populate his dominions in Mentone; they were numerous; and he dwelt with evident feehng on the prospect of the comfort they would find there. Nothing came of either his business scheme or his philanthropy, and it was a blessed rehef for all when finally he relinquished that property and freed himself from the harpies of legal persecution. In this year, 1893, died that great actor and greater man, Edwin Booth, one of the noblest and gentlest human beings that ever I have known. More and more, as the years have passed and as I have studied the men, the actors and the acting made known in their passage, my conviction has been deepened of his greatness in the dramatic art and of the beauty of his character, the dignity of his hfe, and the sweet influence that he exercised, and left. Mansfield, leaving California and pro- ceeding on his tour, was apprised of this bereave- ment, and was moved thus to mention it. 188 LIFE OF MANSFIELD Butte, Montana, June, 13, 1893. My Dear Winter: — . . . I sympathize with you greatly, in the loss of your friend — but you should not say he is the last. What I — I — I, am I — nothing? Do you bite your thumb at me? There is much drivel being written about the last actor. If there is demand there will be supply. For my part, let me cultivate oranges and not opinions. You should have stayed with us on the car — it's your own fault you didn't. We are here in snow and ice — it's awful. I'm so cold I can barely write. (Whew! "barely," how that word makes me shiver — I'm sorry I used it.) Yes, the plain, the mountains — were all covered with snow, this morning. It's a d , dreary — desolate — dirty place. All furnaces and factories and mines, mines, mines — and dirty Indians and smutty- faced miners, and the greed of gold in every eye. Crowded house last night — but I do not know what they thought of Brummell — I fancy they opinioned he was a d fool! I enclose a few penny and shilling curses, for you to dis- tribute among your friends, and I desire finally to say that, if you will have the decency to join us, on June 24, in Colo- rado Springs, I will show you the finest sight on God's earth — to wit "The Garden of the Gods," which there is nothing more sublime in the way of spectacle: and we will then carry you East with us, nolens volens. With more curses. Yours faithfully ever, Richard. his seal! The most painful chapter in the history of Mans- field's professional career began with his return to the Atlantic coast and his re-entrance in New York in the autumn of 1893. He was bitterly dis- "THUS BAD BEGINS" 189 satisfied with the circumstances of his fortune; he considered himself the victim of reprehensible pubKc neglect; and he had become greatly incensed against foreign actors, and especially against Henry Irving, whom he now determined professionally to oppose, by producing "The INIerchant of Venice" and acting Shylockj and, immediately afterward, producing "Twelfth Night," and acting Malvolio. It was, of course, right that he should choose those parts, or any other available part, irrespective of the achieve- ments of other actors. With "Twelfth Night" he might have prospered: as Malvolio, that greatly conceived, intricately wrought, and man^ellously sustained and expressed personification of self- love, he would have given a great performance. On the other hand, it was unwise to choose Shylock, at that critical time, when the memory of Edwin Booth's potential and thrilUng persona- tion of the part still lingered, and when Irving's wonderful embodiment of it possessed a prodigious popularity and was actually in public view. This point is equally beside consideration of either Mans- field's aptitude for the character or his rank as an actor: it is one of management, — which he liked to call "generalship," and in which, con- trary to his belief, he was often at fault. However excellent and deserving as an actor he may then 190 LIFE OF MANSFIELD have been, public opinion had not accepted him as another Booth, and it had accepted Irving's per- formance of Shyloch as representative and incom- parable. The time, furthermore, was unpropitious for any costly enterprise, the business of the whole country having been prostrated by "panic." It was known, for example, and Mansfield knew it by per- sonal experience, that "people, and rich people, were paying for theatre tickets with i. o. u.'s." Only a few months earlier he had explicitly declared his aversion to the making of a revival of Shakespeare, and risking his savings in one venture, saying, "If I am to give out my money, I would rather bestow it where it will accomplish some lasting benefit." That preference was wise, for the situa- tion had become perilous, and in theatrical circles, all over the land, there was an anxious sense of insecurity. The theatre-going public had but little money to spend on "amusements," and, naturally, that money was expended for the pleasure of seeing such exhibitions as were then the most prominent and celebrated. Henry Ir\ang and Ellen Terry, with elaborate and beautiful productions of diversi- fied and interesting plays, and with an exceptionally fine dramatic company, were traversing the country, and, as it happened, the tide of popular interest was flowing more strongly and steadily in their favor than IMPRUDENCE 191 in that of any of their competitors. Ellen Terry's acting, — especially her superb personation of Portia, much the best that has been seen in our time, — would, in itself, have been almost sufficient to have caused that effect. A more inauspicious moment, surely, could not have been selected for the making of a costly Shakespearean revival and for the present- ment of a new Shylock, — a character possessing no intrinsic charm, but, when truthfully embodied, being barbarous and repellent, the victorious theatrical employment of which has always been found to depend either upon colossal power or marvellous intellectual subtlety in the actor of it, or upon super- latively fine acting in the auxihar parts, or upon splendor of environment, or upon all these com- bined. Yet that was the moment and that was the character selected by INIansfield, for a venture, which, even under favorable circumstances, might have seemed of dubious expediency. On October 9, 1893, he began an engagement in New York, at a little theatre called Herrmann's, in the second story of a building at the southwest corner of Broadway and Twenty-ninth Street, — a theatre well adapted for the exhibition of a conjuror's tricks, for which it was intended, but absolutely unsuitable for the pre- sentment of a Shakespearean play, — and there, after acting, in rapid succession, Brummell, Chevrial, 192 LIFE OF MANSFIELD Dimmesdale, and Jekyll and Hyde, he produced "The Merchant of Venice," October 23, and for the first time performed Shyloch. By what means he succeeded in placing his elaborate production upon that diminutive stage it was difficult to under- stand. At a later time, when Herrmann's Theatre had become the Princess Theatre, and the stage had been rebuilt and enlarged, the proscenium open- ing was only twenty-five feet wide, the distance between the curtain-hne and the back wall was only twenty-three feet, and a "forty-foot drop" could not be used on the stage. Mansfield's scenic dis- play, accordingly, was mutilated. His performance of the Jew, which is described and commemorated elsewhere in this memoir, wliile, necessarily, it lacked clarity and completeness, was remarkable for sus- tained vigor and for points of exceptional merit. The presentment, however, as a whole, was inade- quate, and it did not arouse the ardent enthusiasm that he had expected it to inspire. My profes- sional duty as a dramatic reviewer was minutely, thoughtfully, and zealously fulfilled, and Mansfield's acting of Shyloch received at my hands a liberal measure of sympathetic recognition. He thought otherwise; he decided that he had been treated with malicious injustice; "deserted"; "neglected"; "persecuted"; "damned!" His letters to me became Photoijraph h.n Windoir and drove, London ELLEN TERRY AS PORTIA HARD WORDS 193 insufferable, and, at last, I felt constrained to request him not to write to me again. "A friend should bear a friend's infirmities," but there are times when the most inveterate patience tires. Mansfield had been driven into a sort of frenzy, by failures, disappointments, care, and incipient sickness. The following is a mild specimen of his epistolary pro- ductions at that time, addressed to me: . . . Damn your criticisms ! No man can keep me back for long! You can injure my pocket, and you certainly have — on occasions ! I had a deuce of a time getting our only patrons, the Jews, to come and see "The Merchant," because you made me out a fiend and a vulture. $8,000 more of my hard-earned dollars gone; and you impractical Devil — what do I — am I — can I, live on? Air? Do you think I am eternally to sweat and labor for no earthly return? . . . I have been harassed and worried and hounded, beyond all endurance. It seems I must even suffer in silence! It seems that I must never look forward to anything but a life of work ! . . . Irving has been feting the critics here (in Chicago) and I have again found the trail of the serpent and its slime! I have even an accurate and verbatim report of his conver- sation with them, — one of his not least amazing declarations being that he is to present "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," in London. That being the play in which I should make my re-entree there, his Snake-ship will, snake-like, forestall me! ... In other letters he vented his resentment of fancied injuries, in language still more intemperate, 194 LIFE OF MANSFIELD not to say vituperative. He had not, in fact, been represented as either "a fiend" or "a vulture," in his performance of Shylock. On the contrary, his ideal of the part, in so far as it could be clearly discerned, had been designated as correct, and por- tions of his expression of it had been highly extolled, — as they deserved to be. It had not, however, been stated that he made Shakespeare's Jew a noble, righteous, virtuous, admirable, sympathetic person, whom the Hebrew inhabitants of the country should eagerly hasten to behold; and eventually I learned that the omission of some such testimony as that was his principal "grievance." If he had so represented Shylock his performance would have deserved, and would have received, explicit condemnation, for the Jew of "The Merchant of Venice" is a specious, treacherous, mahgnant, bloody-minded person, and all theories that conceive of liim as anything else are chimerical, — ^being unwarranted by the text of the play. At one time, long ago, I was misled, in the study of that subject, by the ingenious com- mentaries of Ludwig Borne and Victor Hugo, and by various old records, such as those wliich glow- ingly commemorate the acting, in Shylock, of such chieftains as Edmund Kean and James William Wallack. Shakespeare's text is the only true guide, and it leads, inevitably, to a different and very "REALISM" 195 clear conclusion. It is, unquestionably, true that an actor who would evoke public sympathy with Shylock must emphasize a human side of the char- acter, and that is what Mansfield, probably, intended to do, and thought that he had done. What he actually did, however, was to present Shylock, sub- stantially, in the manner that is prescribed by the Jew's words and deeds, and by the words and deeds of persons who are associated with liim, — blurring his performance, from time to time, by an incon- gruous effort to arouse compassion. An objectionable feature of Mansfield's assump- tion of Shylocky as first displayed, was realism of treatment : at the words, for example, with which the Jew greets Antonio, "Your worship was the last man in our mouths," he expressed Shylock's "loath- ing" for the Merchant by literally spitting upon the stage, — a kind of "business" of which he then approved, but in the customary use of which he, happily, did not persist. He was versatile and ingenious in his artistic method, from the first, but it was not until he had matured his art, by years of practical experience, that he discarded, — in so far as he ever did discard, — the expedients of reahsm. In giving his first performance of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," for example, — when that play was produced in Boston (1887), — at the moment. 196 LIFE OF MANSFIELD in the first act, when Hyde leaps upon Sir Danvers Carew, hurls him to the floor, and strangles him, Mansfield lost control of himself and so maltreated the representative of Sir Danvers^ the late Mr. Boyd Putnam (1865-1908), that the injured victim of realism fainted, repeatedly, and was with diffi- culty recovered. At another point in the same play, when Hyde interrogates the hag, Rebecca Moore, as to the personal appearance of a man who has called to see him, Mansfield suddenly turned up toward her a distorted, hideous, diabolical counte- nance, and, growhng forth the inquiry, "Like me?'\ druled at the mouth. Such "real" expedients are not only unnecessary but unartistic. Acting is not Nature, but the imitation of Nature. "Real tears," for instance, which some players can readily pro- duce, are not effective, unless they are perfectly controlled. When blows are given, the semblance of a blow is all that is required. Many years ago that raw, crude, boisterous actor, John Wilkes Booth, who had heard of some of the crazy actions of his father, the great Junius, and thought they should be imitated, drove an antagonist in a stage conflict completely over the foothghts and into the orchestra pit. His brother, Edwin Booth, on the contrary, one of the greatest artists that have adorned the stage, — and, specifically, the greatest tragedian ARTISTIC GROWTH 197 of his time, — when he had occasion to strike a blow, seemed to dehver a stroke that was tremendous, but, in fact, when his hand touched a confederate actor the actual touch was as soft as velvet. That process illustrates acting. Art is free from extravagance; is the product of perfect self-control. Mansfield was slow in learning that truth, but he did learn it, and, to a large extent, his mature acting exemplified it. Indeed, a gradual progress of development, such as attends the experience of all fine actors, was especially notable in his acting. Every part that he played was polished by continuous work upon its details and in the process of repetition. His style grew more and more refined as the years passed and as experience broadened his view and chastened his taste. His ambition, furthermore, was not deadened by either disappointment, trouble, sickness, or sorrow. Had his life and health been spared a little longer he would have attempted the great characters of Macbeth and King Lear, and it is not unreasonable to believe that, in those colossal fabrics of imagination and feeling, he would have gained substantial and lasting renown. "Damn your criticisms," it has been noted, was his fervent ejaculation on finding that his SJiyloch had not been hailed as a heavenly Hebrew father, and, especially, had not been acclaimed as superior to 198 LIFE OF MANSFIELD the Shyloch of Irving. His propensity to brood upon what he considered malign influence pro- ceeding from that foreign actor was now much intensified, and it kept him in a continual state of seething exasperation. In this he was singu- larly unfortunate and radically mistaken. Irving, many years older than Mansfield, had earned and gained the leadership of the English stage, and had obtained international renown, before Mans- field's star arose, and, at the time when they met, he was at the summit of a great and abundantly prosperous career. He never considered Mansfield as a rival, any more than Edwin Booth did, and he would not have tried to injure him or to thwart his progress, even if he had so considered him. Mansfield had planned to act Richard the Third, before resolving to go to London, and his present- ment of that tragedy in the British capital, — an expensive enterprise, — was not undertaken by advice of Irving or of anybody else, but solely by liis own will, and the outcome of his London season, 1888-'89, first at the Lyceum and afterward at the Globe,— the loss, that is to say, of $167,000,— was not due to the hostile machinations of any indi\adual or any combination of individuals, but to the simple, decisive fact, which is the cause of all theatrical disasters, that the pubhc did not award to BICKERING 199 his costly productions that amount of practical sup- port which was imperatively necessary for the pay- ment of his large expenses. When he left England, in 1889, he was in debt to Irving, and it seems to have been his conviction that his lack of sulSicient public patronage had been caused by the insidious hostility of that actor. The notion was as deplor- able as it was fallacious, and, eventually, it caused much unhappiness. Mansfield was impulsive, and, when excited, prone to reckless speech. There is no reason to doubt that he believed what he said, at the time he said it, when he attributed his ill- fortune to enmity on the part of Irving; but he had no reason to believe it, his talk was wild, and more than once, after his arrival home, in 1889, I besought him to restrain liis words, to discard his delusion, and to make all possible haste in the settle- ment of the Lyceum business. That counsel he then received in kindness: "I will, and have borne in mind all you say about Irving" (so he wrote, October 25, 1889) ; "I will have none but the kind- est feelings: the business part of it shall be attended to at once." His sensible resolution did not prevail over his fretful ill-humor. He continued to inveigh against the phantom foe of his angry fancy. His censorious words drifted to Irving's knowledge, — calumny, as usual, being carried by "the birds of 200 LIFE OF MANSFIELD the air," — and that actor (a loyal friend and a "good hater"), bitterly resentful of injustice, retaliated by taking legal steps for the recovery of the money that Mansfield owed to him, and also by purchase, from the London publishers, of the rights to use the story of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" on the Eng- hsh stage. The debt was paid. Mansfield, much as he sometimes grumbled and vapored, never intended to wrong Irving, or to wrong anybody else. The following entry, copied from the Ledger of the London Lyceum Theatre, appears in the copious, minute, interesting "Life of Henry Irving," by Austin Brereton: £1675 lef Also £1000 Lo ; owing by an. loan and rent and law fees . Mr. Mar interest . interest, sfield for rent. .£1180 16 8 .£1476 14 10 £2675. 1894 Recv'd 1896 Recv'd Less £2675 11 6 The good news of the adjustment of tliis affair, by the removal of an irksome cause of mutual dis- content, was communicated to me by Mansfield, and was recognized with these words: AS TO FRIENDSHIP 201 I received your letter, this day, about your relations with Mr. Irving. I am very glad to hear that the money is paid and the business part of it settled. Perhaps you and he will, one day, understand each other. I hope so. I never heard him say an ill word of you. I wish that the papers had not represented you as saying hard words of him. It is a great pity that two men, whom God has blessed with such genius, and such power for the good of the stage and society, should not agree, and get on in kindness. But, in Heaven's name, never open your lips about him again, for any paper to hear! W. W. It was, for a time, one of Mansfield's erroneous impressions, of which he had many, that my views, not only of his acting but of the acting of other mem- bers of the stage, were fashioned and guided by friendship. A word on that subject, personal to myself, will not, perhaps, be considered inappropri- ate. I have been a writer about the sta^e for more than half-a-century. In the course of that time I have discussed the performances of hundreds of actors and have written many columns of recognition and of praise; but I have never written a line of praise that I did not believe to be deserved, and I have never written a word of commendation of any person because I was fond of that person or because that person was fond of me. I have never sought the friendship of any person, nor have I ever been influenced by it. I have had friends: most of them are dead: but their affection has been mine, — for 202 LIFE OF MANSFIELD which I am profoundly grateful, — not because it was solicited, and not because they thought they had anything to gain by it, but because, out of their goodness and gentleness, they were pleased to bestow that blessing upon me, and thus to brighten my life. Some observers maintain that the profes- sional critic of acting cannot write impartially about actors if he is personally acquainted with them. To me it has always seemed that accurate personal knowledge of the actor is distinctly propitious to an ample and minute appreciation of the acting. Each observer must judge for himself. It is the chief privilege of the critic to recognize, to foster, and to encourage. The necessity may, and sometimes does, arise for explicit censure, but the most salutary province of criticism is commendation, — that thought- ful, rational, kindly treatment of artistic endeavor which tends to help. During a lifetime of literary service to the Dramatic Art I have labored in accordance with that conviction, — knowing many actors, — and I am wishful to believe that I have not labored in vain. A man who occupies a posi- tion of critical responsibility to the public must, it seems to me, be signally deficient of individual character if he supposes that he cannot write the truth about acting when the actor happens to be a personal friend. I was fond of Mansfield, and CRITICAL ATTITUDE 203 frequently I commended his acting; not because of friendship for the man, but for the simple, suffi- cient, imperative reason that frequently his acting was good, and sometimes it was magnificent. On the other hand I never hesitated to condemn his faults; and, although he was resentful, angry, and acrimonious, in response to censure, I retained his friendship till his death. In writing this biography, which, necessarily, involves many intimate personal recollections and impartments, I have found it impossible to avoid reference to myself, and for that I would ask the reader's indulgence. The famihar quotation from Virgil is not irrelevant: "Quceque ipse misserrima vidi, et quorum pars magna fid." Whenever Mansfield merited praise, — and that was often, — he always received it, from at least one pen. When he made himself amenable to censure he did not escape from it. By some writers he was slan- dered and traduced. By some he was misunderstood and was treated without appreciation if not with willful injustice. His habit of indiscreet speech was known, so that sometimes even his nearest friends were constrained to trust the authenticity of splenetic remarks purporting to have been made by him. Thus, when a regular dispatch from a Western city had reported him as having indulged in con- temptuous abuse and condemnation of a contem- 204 LIFE OF MANSFIELD porary actor, with whom he was known to be at variance, the following article, written by me, was pubhshed on the editorial page of "The New York Tribune": MR. Mansfield's wrath. Mr. Richard Mansfield's recent colloquy with himself, at Cincinnati, was conceited, rude, ill-bred, and foolish, but there is a comic side to it. "What is Irving.?" asked Mr. Mansfield; and, himself responding to his inquiry, he replied "He is no better actor than I am." This recalls one of the Ellenborough anecdotes. "Now, my lords," said Lord Westmoreland, "I asked myself a question." "Yes," said Ellenborough, unconsciously murmuring his thought, "and a damned stupid answer you'd be sure to get to it." Mr. Mansfield's answer, however, is doubt- less satisfactory to himself. Persons who have observed and studied the stage for a longer period than Mr. Mansfield has lived would answer his question in a very different manner. They would tell him that Henry Irving is a great actor — one of the greatest actors that have ever appeared, and the best stage manager of whom there is any record in the history of the English Drama. They would say, furthermore, that Mr. Irving is not only a better actor than Mr. Mansfield, but so much a better actor that no comparison between them is for a moment possible, and that nobody but Mr. Mansfield himself would think of making it. They would add that Mr. Irving, since he leased the London Lyceum Theatre, has, perhaps, done more than any man of our time to maintain a high standard in dramatic matters and to educate and advance the public taste — his sole rival in that good work being, not Richard Mansfield, but Augustin Daly. And they would take the liberty to mention that when Mr. Mansfield stigmatizes Mr. Irving as "a stage mountebank," and as "a theatrical diplomat," whose professional conduct "savors of the SILLY WRATH 205 actress who 'loses' her diamonds once a year," he insults the intelligence of the community and stultifies his own. Explosions of petty spite and silly wrath on the part of Mr. Mansfield have become too frequent. He should be told, and he ought to remember, that it is equally unmanly and sense- less for anybody to growl and grumble because other persons do not accept him at his own valuation of himself. The way to win admiration is to deserve it, and to go on deserving it, whether it is accorded or not. Abler men than Mr. Mansfield have gone through the world, doing their best, and deserving fortune and homage, — and have died unrecognized and unre- warded. Mr. Mansfield's rare abilities, on the contrary, have been acknowledged and applauded everywhere, and the only thing that has ever stood in his way is his inveterate propensity to carp and snarl at other persons. He cannot injure Mr. Irving. His hysterical ebullitions only injure himself. When "the boys" in a Western settlement were riding a sap-headed young clergyman out of the place on a rail, the ringleader summarized the situation with one brief but expressive remark: "We ain't agin' religion here," he said, "but we do hate to see a cuss spilin' it!" Indignant denial, by Mansfield, that he had ever spoken the words attributed to liim, promptly fol- lowed the publication of that article. The spirit of those words, as well as the words themselves, was exactly accordant with the spirit of words that I heard him speak, in general company, and had earnestly asked liim never to utter, because alike unwarranted, undignified, and wrong. Then, as always, though, it was my earnest desire that he should be justly and kindly treated, and there- 206 LIFE OF MANSFIELD fore, upon receipt of his denial, I wrote and pub- lished an article, of wliich this is the essential part: It is an old established principle that nothing is ever settled luitil it is settled aright. Mr. Mansfield repudiates, in explicit terms, the language ascribed to him in the press dispatch from Cincinnati that was published in this journal, and later was made the subject of editorial comment. Mr. Mansfield declares that the interview designated in that dispatch never occurred, and that the words attributed to him were never spoken. Under those circumstances the strictures on Mr. Mansfield were not warranted. It is just, however, to say that the Cincinnati dispatch appeared, on the face of it, to be authentic, and that belief in it was natural. Publications, signed with Mr. Mansfield's name, are in existence, expressing his disfavor toward foreign actors, and, during several years, the newspapers, in different parts of the country have, from time to time, contained accounts of speeches and conversations, wherein Mr. Mansfield has appeared as a person with a grievance. . . . Reputation affects belief. If, for example, the language ascribed to Mr. Mansfield had been imputed to Mr. Jefferson it would have been discredited at once, as preposterous and absurd. Alleged as the utterance of Mr. Mansfield it seemed credible, because it was harmonious with antecedent publications. . . . Duquesne Theatre, Pittsburg, Pa. My Dear Winter: — I thank you, with all my heart, for the more than "amende honorable." . . . You are perfectly right — that I have felt sore and that to you, as an old friend, I have often unburdened myself. That is no reason why I should do so in Public. Moreover, I have grown wise in my generation. Do you fancy I really had no cause for anger? I suffered MISREPRESENTED 207 a loss of $167,000 — actual figures. I was not fairly treated, and Mr. Irving's last action was to buy "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," to prevent me from playing it in London. He also caused me to be attached, in a small New England town, late on a Saturday night. I have paid him every cent I owe him. I forgive him any intentional or unintentional harm he may have done me. I have been — I was, his most devoted friend, his ardent admirer. I believed in him implicitly. I have bestowed upon him many gifts and tokens of friendship. He accepted every- thing coldly, and never made any return. I am hasty and quick-tempered — but I harm only myself. I would rather be so, than cold, calculating, and insincere. Even the St. Louis speech, so much referred to recently, was an outrageous fake. I made but one speech, which was forced upon me — the audience would not have it otherwise. There was not one serious word in that speech; it was entirely comic, and accepted as such by the audience. Some cad, three days afterward, published, to our utter amazement and consternation, a series of remarks, purporting to have been uttered by me, which were a string of ridiculous lies. Upon these the New York papers commented seriously. I have written to Irving — I ought to write to Tree. I have abused neither of these men. They are welcome to all the honor and glory and money they can acquire. . i^^-"" Always Richard Mansfield. Pittsburgh, Penna. My Dear Winter: — I can only at this moment thank you for your generous let- ter. I read for the first time the press dispatch from Cincin- nati. The scoundrels must have simply manufactured it, for it has not even the basis of truth which some equally dangerous but garbled reported interviews and speeches possess, and I 208 LIFE OF MANSFIELD can't imagine how anybody could really believe that I talked like a fish-wife. Certainly I have spoken and written to you in a mood of bitterness. You, who are a poet and must have a poet's moods, best know how the arrows of outrageous fortune torture a man's mind, and how an enfeebled constitution and a nerve- racked frame will make a fellow shriek, as hope after hope and ambition after ambition is thwarted, and fades, and dies. But I do not talk cheap trash like a common scold. You are quite right about Jefferson — nobody would believe that he had said anything of the kind. But there is this dif- ference — that / produce four or five plays a year, and have spent thousands on new and old plays, such as "Richard" and "Nero" — and that I am striving, striving, studying, and have been starving. Mr. Jefferson is a dear, lovely fellow, who likes a small company and a jog trot. Every man to his taste, Irving is twenty years my senior. I admire him very much; I am, personally, his friend, and if he needed my friendship he could have it, and every copper I am likely to make, to back it up. Politically I am his opponent. He does not believe in Reciprocity. I do. I think it's an infernal shame that a man who has won his spurs in this country should not be esteemed a Knight in England — that it should be a practical impossibility to make a dollar over there, . . . I like all these fellows — I am still fond of Irving: but I do think there should be a fair, square chance all roiuid. Basta — that's all. Let the dead bury the dead. . . . Talking of the dead, Sol Smith Russell is here and has got "The Heir at Law" by the ears and is galvanizing the old fellow "with songs contributed by Mr. Joseph Jefferson!" Has Jefferson been warbling, too ? We nearly died over your review of "Mr. John A. Dreams," and "Mr, Titus A. Peep." I marked it as coming from your pen, and dispatched it at once to Bernard Shaw. . . . Beatrice has gone to New York. You'll find her at 104 West 80th Street. I shall be there Sunday evening. At the house THE FOREIGN ACTOR 209 there is a high-backed chair, in which Cardinal Borgia was wont to disport himself, which now belongs to you, and in tire theatre there will also be a chair which will have "W. W." beautifully embroidered upon its back. When you write scathing editorials about me, please recol- lect that it is simple madness to nourish and cherish a plant, and watch it, and water it, and whiskey it, and so forth and so forth and so forth — and, just as it shows promise of blos- soming, to j ump upon it with both heels ! Why, more than half such success as I enjoy is born of you, and doesn't everybody know it? Wretched man! you have brought forth a Frankenstein ! ! Ever yours, Richard Mansfield. It is not unreasonable, certainly it is not unnatural, that the American actor following his vocation on the American stage, should be discontented, when he finds himself neglected and, at the same time, per- ceives that the foreign actor is extravagantly admired and la\ishly rewarded. The provincialism or the snobbery which, for many years, in America, has accepted and acclaimed the acting of foreign per- formers, — especially those speaking French or Ital- ian, — often for no better reason than because it is foreign, may well have been a cause of disgust and resentment to American actors of proved ability and worth. It would, however, be unjust and deplorably illiberal to oppose the advent, upon our stage, of foreign actors of authentic talent and renown, only 210 LIFE OF MANSFIELD because they are foreign. Mansfield was inclined, in this matter, to apply the doctrine of Protection. On December 31, 1900, he said, in "The New York Herald"; "... We have no stage in America. The American stage is the stage for all stages. Everybody comes here, and every- body is welcome. Herein lies the difference between New York and Paris and London and other foreign capitals. Foreign actors make a great deal of money in America. It would be difficult for an American actor to make any money in London, or Berlin, or Vienna, or St. Petersburgh. American stage craft is not honored abroad. It should be. Concerning art, the American is neither patriotic nor exclusive. The foreigner is. . . ." That is hardly a just or an accurate view of the subject. Old civilizations, indeed, are, naturally, conservative: they know, and they instinctively remember, that certain great things in art have been thoroughly and perfectly done, and they are not readily moved to enthusiasm about newcomers: but American actors have been received with acclama- tion in European cities, and have been practically rewarded as well as honored there; and therefore the statement that no reciprocity of art exists between Europe and America is incorrect. Edwin Forrest prospered in Great Britain. So did James H. Hackett. Charlotte Cushman, who went to London in 1844 (with a capital of less than $500), RECIPROCITY 211 was successful there. Success attended Mr. and Mrs. Harry Watkins, Mr. and JNIrs. Barney Williams, and Mr. and Mrs. W. J. Florence. Jefferson's "stage craft" was not only admired but liberally rewarded abroad. Indeed, his great personation of Rip Van Winkle was recognized at its true value in London before it was in New York. Jefferson first acted Rip, in Boucicault's greatly improved version of the earlier play, at the London Adelphi Theatre, September 4, 1865, when the representation was much commended; and he again acted the part in London, at the Princess's Theatre, from Novem- ber 1, 1875, to April 29, 1876. John McCullough was heartily welcomed in England. ]Mary Ander- son's career on the British stage was, in every way, one continuous triumph: "The Winter's Tale," for example (first produced by her at Nottingham, April 23, 1887), occupied the stage of the Lon- don Lyceum, without interruption, from September 10, 1887, to March 24, 1888. Lawrence Barrett, who gained fame, would also have gained money, in London, but for the death of a member of the English royal family, which caused a mourning court and deterred his peculiar audience from the theatre. Edwin Booth, who made three ventures in England, speaking about liis reception on the British stage, said (June, 1881) : "I was never more 212 LIFE OF MANSFIELD heartily received than by the audience drawn together when I played in London. I have had a most dehghtful experience, socially, professionally, and in every respect, with the exception of the unfortunate illness of my wife. . . . My engagement with Irving was one of the most agreeable I ever played. He is one of the most delightful men I ever met; always obliging, and always kind in every possible way. ..." Ada Rehan, who was introduced upon the British stage by Augustin Daly (at Toole's Theatre, London, July 19, 1884), became as great a favorite there as even the admired Helen Faucit had been, and, as long as she continued to act, main- tained an equal position with that of Ellen Terry, the leading English actress of her time. Miss Rehan was also successful in Berhn, Hamburg, and Paris, where she filled three engagements. Augustin Daly built and managed Daly's Theatre (opened June 27, 1893) in London, and was decisively successful there; for example, "Twelfth Night," with which he opened that house, was acted one hundred and eleven times, and in the same season "The School for Scan- dal" was acted more than fifty times. On the Con- tinental stage a large acceptance of acting in the English language could hardly be expected; yet Edwin Booth was received in the cities of Germany with greater homage than had ever been shown EDWIN BOOTH IX 1883 BOOTH IN GERMANY 213 toward him, even by the most friendly pubhc of his native land! At Berlin he received a silver wreath of laurel leaves inscribed: "To Edwin Booth, the unrivalled Tragedian, in kind remem- brance of his first engagement in Germany, January and February, 1883. Presented by the Directors and the ladies and gentlemen of the Residenz Theatre." At Hamburg the actors gave him a branch of sil- ver bay leaves, — the veteran Herr Formes making the presentation speech. At Bremen the actors expressed their admiration by giving him a silver crown of laurel. Another silver wreath was given to him at Leipsic. He was received with kindred favor in Vienna. Wherever he acted his audi- ences were large and were wildly enthusiastic in their applause. The German press teemed with tributes to his genius. "I have just accomplished" (so he wrote to me, January 11, 1883) "the one great object of my professional aspiration. 'Tis after one o'clock in the morning and I am very weary, but cannot go to bed ^vithout a line to you. When I am cooler I will try to give you a full account of the night's work. The actors as well as the audience were very enthusiastic, many of the former kissing my hands, and thanking me over and over again, — for what I know not, unless it was 214. LIFE OF MANSFIELD because they recognized in me a sincere disciple of their idol, Shakespeare. ..." It is not because "American stage-craft is not honored abroad" that American actors find it diffi- cult to earn much money there. All actors find it difficult. The same custom of lavish pubhc expendi- ture on theatres that prevails in America does not prevail in Europe. Irving, the most greatly esteemed and widely followed actor of his time, on the British stage, was obliged to earn in America the money needful to maintain his vast enterprises at the Lyceum, London, and, speaking before the curtain in New York, he testified that without the generous support of the American public he could not have carried on his work. Herbert Beerbohm- Tree, a representative London actor and manager of the present day, has found it very difficult to support the great burden of his theatre. America is the best market-place in the world for the actor, — yielding far larger profits than can be obtained in Europe, — but it does not follow from this fact that "the foreigner is exclusive" as to American actors and acting. There are other forces beside churlishness and insular prejudice that affect the interchange of art between America and Europe. Several months passed before my "Franken- stein" presented himself to my view, and when at STORMING THE FORT 215 last he did appear his advent was accomplished in a manner not inharmonious with the character that he had playfully assumed. It was on a peaceful Sunday morning, in April. I was, by chance, alone in my somewhat sequestered abode, in Staten Island, — as solitary as Manfred in his tower, and bent on being quite as unsocial; for an exacting literary task engrossed my thoughts and made me impatient of interruption. There are strange beings who, — wishful to go upon the stage, or to publish verses, or to present plays, or to reform man- kind, — feel that nothing can be done without a preliminary conference with some person associated with the press, and from those importunate enthu- siasts rigid seclusion provides the only means of escape. It was, accordingly, my custom to keep the doors locked and to make no response to the knocking or ringing of callers. "Fast bind" is a good proverb, for others beside old Shyloch. On that particular day I had determined not to admit anybody; whereupon, by perversity of fortune, the applicants for admission became more than usually numerous, — all, however, unheeded, passing away. At length, after a considerable period of silence, I became aware of a peremptory ringing of the bell, succeeded by emphatic blows upon the front door. Here, evidently, was a besieger acquainted 216 LIFE OF MANSFIELD with my custom of fortification. The ringing was resumed, and it became a continuous peal, for several minutes. The thumps were renewed. Then still- ness. Then more blows, this time upon a door in the western side of the building. Then, finally, a thunderous "knocking at the south entry," the sound of which reverberated through the empty house. About ten minutes later, the clamor having ceased, and the visitant, as I supposed, departed, I descended to my library, on the lower floor, in quest of a book. My arrival proved timely. As I entered the room, at one end of it, I saw that a window at the other end had been raised, and that Mansfield, blooming in fine, fashionable rai- ment, as was his custom, was projecting himself through the aperture, at the same time, at sight of me, exclaiming, in stentorian tones, — rich, hearty, jovial, exultant, — "So you are at home! I thought so! My dear Winter, how are you?" I beheld him with amazement. "Come in, Mansfield," I said, or rather whispered — for I was almost speechless, with cold. "Come in," he shouted: "Do I look as if I were not coming in? Here he is," he continued, "this wicked old man; this old gray fox that must be dug out; who never minds his door-bell: he thought he could elude me: he cannot: he must listen to me, for hours and hours, and he cannot PLEASANT HOURS 217 even reply. He whispers: he cannot be heard. JNIiserable man! you have brought forth a Franken- stein!" He was like a happy boy, abounding in joyous mischief, and dehghted with it. We sat together for the rest of the day, and all the while he discoursed to me, of his plans, his dreams, his prospects, his recent experiences, his friends and foes and fancied foes, and the vicissitudes of his fortunes. His smile was winsome, his voice cheery, his mirth exhilarant. He seemed the personification of happiness. He sang for me. He mimicked the faddists of the hour. He read aloud from the manuscript of his book of nonsense, — afterward published under the name of "Blown Away." He told anecdotes. He was at his best of geniality and droll humor. No man could be more engaging than Mansfield was, as an entertainer, and that day, as I remember it, he excelled himself. It was a rare occasion, and it marked the complete dis- appearance of whatever shadow of resentment might have lingered between us. The financial adversity which attended liis pro- duction of "The IMerchant of Venice" disappointed and depressed him so much that he abandoned his design of producing "Twelfth Night," and he never recurred to it. A long time passed, indeed, before he could bring himself even to think of a new 218 LIFE OF MANSFIELD venture in Shakespeare. His production of "Rich- ard III.," which had been for four years included in his repertory, though not frequently employed, was again used in 1898, but it was not until 1901 that he once more raised the standard of the great- est of dramatists, — this time winning a brilliant victory, — with his magnificent revival of "Henry V." The gloomy engagement at Herrmann's Theatre lasted only four weeks (October 9 to November 4, 1893), and Mansfield then made another tour, extending far and wide through the West and South. The part of Shyloch was retained in liis repertory, and from time to time it was repeated. Good fortune did not favor him, though, and his health, which gradually had been impaired by excessive exertion and incessant worry, presently failed; he broke down, and for some time he was seriously ill. VIII. 1894 TO 1899. In the spring of 1894, writing to me from a city in the West, Mansfield, now improved in health, dwelt earnestly on his wish that his flurry of anger, when suffering from grip, should be forgotten. "I was never so ill in my hfe," he said, refer- ring to that culmination of his troubles; "I did not act for three weeks, and ought not to have played for seven." He also expressed the pur- pose of visiting London, in quest of new plays, but that purpose was not accomplished, — possibly because the English censor had, meanwhile, declined to sanction the play of "Beau Brummell," so that any design he might incidentally, have entertained of acting again in the British capital was frus- trated. It was not easy (at least, I have not found it so) to cherish unkind feeling. No person who knew Richard ^Mansfield well could long remain seriously offended with him, for, in some ways, he was like a tired child. "Don't be mad ^vith me," he wrote; "I only cried out to you, and against 219 220 LIFE OF MANSFIELD you, as to a father or brother who wouldn't under- stand." 104 West 80th Street, New York, August 2, 1894. My Dear Winter: — ... I am only in town for a couple of days, and I should dearly like to shake you by the hand — will you come and dine and spend the evening? I am all alone, and dine at seven. If you feel like going away for a few days, — I shall start from here, on my little boat, on Sunday, and I can make you com- fortable and give you a week's cruise. I think you would enjoy it: again I am entirely alone on the boat, barring the crew, and I make a point of going to nobody and seeing nobody. If you like sailing I am certain it would do you good, and the sight of the New York Yacht Club fleet, — whose cruise I intend to follow, from Glen Cove to New Haven — from New Haven to New London — from New London to New- port — will be delightful. You can sprawl on your back and gaze at the sky. What do you say.'* I left Beatrice at New London, for a few days, with friends. Yours always, with kindest regards, Richard Mansfield. That kind invitation was necessarily declined, and, on August 29, requiring rest, I sailed for Scotland. 104 West 80th Street, New York, September 1, 1894. My Dear Winter: — Your kind letter, written on board the Britannic, was a sorry surprise to us, for we had hoped to have seen much of you here, in our home, before we started on our annual jaunt. But if you are ill it is well indeed that you should be able to get away — above all to Bonnie Scotland. How, how I BLUNTSCHLI 221 wish we were with you! May it be for next summer! I have promised Beatrice a trip thro' all the lovely spots of England and Scotland, and perhaps some parts of Germany and Switzerland or the Tyrol. Perhaps you may be persuaded to join us? . . . I am as far off from the goal of my ambitions as ever — and I see no improvement. I open the new Herald Square Theatre on September 17, with a satirical comedy, of no particular weight — clever enough ; containing no part for me. In fact, in the second act (there are three) until the end of it, I do not appear. My one hope is that somebody may write something. If you see Irving, greet him from me, and tell him I have forsaken the errors of my youth and heartily sympathize, and am in sympathy, with him, I am here until the 29th of October. Give my love to your wife and children, and believe me As ever very devotedly yours, Richard Mansfield. In the autumn of 1894 he appeared, September 17, at the Herald Square Theatre, New York, and, for the first time, acted Captain Bluntsclili, in Mr. George Bernard Shaw's satirical play "Arms and the Man." No play by that author had previously been presented in America, and, although that novelty did not attract much attention, the success obtained by Mansfield, as Bluntsclili, eventually launched Mr. Shaw upon a tide of publicity which has not yet ceased to flow. A more notable event was the representation, October 27, of a series of pictorial scenes, — a sort of theatrical panorama, — 222 LIFE OF MANSFIELD illustrative of the life of Napoleon Bonaparte, — Mansfield personating the meteoric emperor. Napoleon has figured in the English drama for nearly, if not quite, a century. A spectacle play, called "The Fall of Moscow," was long popular in London, at Astley's Amphitheatre and elsewhere, and Edward A. Gomersal (1788-1862) was admired for his presentation of the famous Corsican. Readers of Bon Gaultier will remember the ballad of "The Midnight Visit," descriptive of Lord Castlereagh's consternation on beholding Bonaparte, — supposed to have escaped from St. Helena, — and of the relief of that statesman, when the phantom vanished, and he read, in the "mystic scroll" which had been left upon his table, "Napoleon, for the Thousandth time, by Mister Gomersal." In recent years the conqueror has largely figured on our stage as the domestic despot in the ingenious drama of "Mme. Sans Gene." Mansfield was always especially sympathetic with the character of Napoleon, and indeed, — however extravagant the statement may seem, at first glance, — liis personality comprised some of the attributes of that character, — stalwart courage, vaulting ambi- tion, inflexible will, resolute self-confidence, great capacity for labor, iron endurance, promptitude of decision, propensity for large schemes, and pas- sionate taste for profusion of opulent surround- Courtcfi!/ of liohcr Art Gallery, Cohimbiid, Ohio MANSFIELD AS ^'APOLKOS BONAPARTE NAPOLEON 223 ings. Like Napoleon, also, he was sensitive to weird imagery and to far-off musical, melancholy- sounds, and especially fond of children. The wish to act Napoleon had long been cherished by him. He often mentioned it to me. In 1893 he wrote that he had planned certain scenes wliich he thought could be acted, but which, in representation, would need to be conjoined by an interlude of prose nar- rative, for recitation, — somewhat after the model of the Greek Chorus; and he asked me to write that interlude — a dubious expedient for modern theatri- cal use, wliich I declined to furnish. He also, as already mentioned, proposed the subject to Augustin Daly, but without, at that time, practicallj" inter- esting that manager. Daly produced a version of "Mme. Sans Gene" January 3, 1899, at his theatre in New York, Ada Rehan acting Catherine, after- ward Duchess of Dantzig, and George Clarke (1840?-1906) appearing as the Emperor. The piece about Napoleon that Mansfield ultimately obtained and presented was a cluster of episodes, representa- tive more than dramatic, contributory to a pictorial outline of the Emperor's life, and it enabled him, at least, to gratify himself by assuming, — as he did, with a keen perception of the man and with striking effect, — several aspects of Napoleon, mental no less than physical. The pubhc response to his exliibition 224 LIFE OF MANSFIELD of that great historic person was not considerable. His acting, indeed, was admired: his play, "a thing of shreds and patches," was rightly considered tedious. The first presentation of "Napoleon Bona- parte" occurred on the last night of his New York engagement. On October 29 he began another tour of the country, and this, happily, was remunera- tive, — although his gains were lessened by his ill- judged persistence in presenting, from time to time, both "Napoleon Bonaparte" and "Arms and the Man." He was now to undergo another painful experi- ence of labor wasted, ambition thwarted and hope bereaved. Early in 1895 a serious illness befell that clever, genial, winning Irish comedian, Edward Har- rigan, and he presently felt constrained to relin- quish his theatre, which had been very prosperous, but which had greatly declined in public favor. Mansfield, who for several years had entertained the project of managing a theatre in New York, heard of the opportunity thus opened, and immediately resolved to take advantage of it. On JNIarch 7, writ- ing to his devoted friend and wise, conscientious, faithful legal adviser, A. W. Gleason, Esq., he said: "It is imperative that I should become the lessee — if not the proprietor — of that theatre. It is just the place for me. GARRICK THEATRE 225 I can run it very inexpensively, and I can make it a simple and dignified temple of art. . . . We rarely do less than $5,000 per week. I will either buy or lease the theatre, at a fair price; we always pay our rent — and if we don't they can kick us out! I must have it, and it must be ready by Easter Monday, April 15. Mansfield finally obtained a lease of Harrigan's Theatre (in West Thirty-fifth Street), refitted it, at large expense, called it The Garrick Theatre, — by wliich name it is still known (1910), — and straightway beguiled himself with rosy dreams of achievement and prosperity. "I shall work like a beaver," he wrote to me, March 17, 1895; "I shall endeavor to do my duty! I shall try to conciliate all; I shall be truly glad of your advice." His spirit was intrepid, and no friend could fail to sympathize with him and encourage liim, — especially since he had already irrevocably committed himself to the undertaking; but the conditions under wliich he embarked in that new enterprise were, to the last degree, unpropitious. Nothing, indeed, was favor- able to it, aside from his genius, indomitable cour- age, and high reputation. The season of 1894-'95 had been very laborious for him, following his loss and disappointment in the production of "The ]Mer- chant of Venice." He was not in robust health. His company was not very strong. The theatre that 226 LIFE OF MANSFIELD he had chosen was situated aside from the main theatrical thoroughfare of the city, and it was asso- ciated in the pubhc mind with Harrigan's Irish- German-Negro farces, — good entertainments of their kind, but not such as had invested the house with a high character, commending it to the favor of the educated community. He had determined to begin, not at the opening, but at the close, of the regular dramatic season, and to begin with a play which did not possess either intrinsic importance or the allure- ment of novelty. That play was "Arms and the Man," at its best a dilution of "Used Up," garnished with satirical additions, and Mansfield had already acted the chief part in it. Captain Bluntschli, at the Herald Square Theatre, where although his acting had been much admired, as it richly deserved to be, the play had proved practically a failure. It chanced, also, that summer resorts, called "roof- gardens," had grown in number and likewise in favor, establishing a formidable competition, at that season of the year. Mansfield's active repertory, indeed, was a good one, — comprising "A Parisian Romance," "Prince Karl," "Beau Brummell," "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," "The Scarlet Letter," "The Merchant of Venice," and "Napoleon," — and it provided him with some parts in which he could put forth his powers with splendid effect: but for a A GLITTERING HOST 227 summer season in New York it lacked novelty where it did not lack lightness and mirth. In the general state of dramatic affairs, further- more, there was much to obstruct any effort which, under existing local conditions, he might be able to make. During the period extending from the autumn of 1893 to the spring of 1896 Mansfield was, from season to season, under the necessity of contending with a professional opposition and rivalry of extraordinary force, — a host, indeed, scarcely less potent than that marshalled against him at the time of his production of "Richard III." Augustin Daly was managing a superb company, with Ada Rehan at the head of it, and, with a repertory containing "Twelfth Night," "The Taming of the Shrew," "The Two Gentlemen of Verona," "The School for Scandal," "The Critic," "Heart of Ruby," and various rollicking farces. Edward S. Willard, associated with specially able auxiliar play- ers, was acting in "The Middleman" and "Judah," two of the best plays of that accomplished dramatist, Henry Arthur Jones. Henry Irving and Ellen Terry, with the formidable Lyceum corps, were pervading the country, in a marvellous repertory, which included "Becket," "Charles L," "Ohvia," "Much Ado About Nothing," "King Arthur," "The Merchant of Venice," "Macbeth," "The BeUs," 228 LIFE OF MANSFIELD "Nance Oldfield," "Louis XL," "The Lyons Mail," "Waterloo," and "Don Quixote." Helen Modjeska was the cynosure of many eyes, in her noble and touching embodiment of "Mary Stuart." The eminent French actor, Jean Mounet-Sully, was conspicuous in "Hernani," "Edipus Rex," "Ruy Bias," "Hamlet," and "The Cid." Mme. Rejane was delighting all beholders by her sparkling per- formance of Mme. Sans Gene and by her piquant coquetry in "Divor9ons" and "Ma Cousine." Joseph Jefferson was visible, in the affluence of his perennial popularity, acting Rip Van Winkle, Acres j and Caleb Plummer, and diffusing the charm of his exquisite art, of which the public never grew weary. Mr. and Mrs. Kendal could be seen in "The Ironmaster," "A White Lie," "A Scrap of Paper," and other plays, and to see them was a perfect pleasure. Rose Coghlan, in her prime, was acting brilliantly, in "Diplomacy" and "Forget Me Not." Wilson Bar- rett had gained an American no less than an Eng- lish following, in "The Manxman," "Virginius," "Othello," and "The Silver King." Herbert Beer- bohm-Tree was performing, in "The Red Lamp," "Gringoire," "The Merry Wives of Windsor," "Hamlet," and "Captain Swift"; and that superb artist, John Hare, as Goldfinch, in "A Pair of Spec- tacles," was adorning the stage and brightening life GREAT EXPECTATIONS 229 for all who saw him. Those citations only barely indicate the strength and variety of theatrical attrac- tion, on the American stage, by which that period was marked, — an embattled array which JMansfield was obHged to meet, and which, with supreme self- confidence and undaunted spirit, he bravely set himself to encounter. The plans that he had formed and the hopes by which he was buoyed, in entering upon the manage- ment of his theatre, are denoted in letters that fol- low, — sad and forlorn in effect now, remembering that nothing came of all his dreams and earnest labors but disappointment and sorrow: Pittsburgh, Pa., Private Car 3977. March 22, 1895. My Dear Winter: — Your letter, your Memoranda received. How can I thank you? I will bear it all well in mind, and it will be invalu- able to me — if, — if — I can only manage to be so good and wise!? I cannot call the theatre "Mansfield's." My instincts are all against it. Maybe the shade of Garrick has something to do with it. You see, there is Abbey's, and Miner's, and Hoyt's, and there was Harrigan's, and there is Palmer's. Garrick did just the sort of thing I should like to be able to do; Tragedy and Comedy, and even a song or so. ... I want to call it "The Garrick" because it's as good a name as any other: "Mansfield's" would be beastly, and when I went out they'd change it, of course, and call it Jones's or Sniggins's. Moreover, if it turns out a failure — which may 230 LIFE OF MANSFIELD God prevent! — I don't want Mansfield to suffer any more than I can help. Garrick is still a name to conjure by — and if he was English, what's the odds? A great actor is for all the world — not for one little spot — eh? As soon as the place is fumigated, cleaned (a theatre by any other name would smell as sweet!) painted, recarpeted, and seated (by which I mean new chairs) you and I will sit down in it and talk it all over. The company shall be the finest in the world: it will take a little time to accomplish that. I have engaged a woman, by name Janet Achurch — she is now on her way here. My brother Felix, who comes over to assist me, is bringing her with him. Felix is my elder brother — a highly educated man of good manners, accomplished and tactful. I am sorry to say he is not very strong physically, and he wears a glass in one eye — but this latter may prove an attraction ! I have seen Janet act, and I fancy that, after Ellen Terry — perhaps a long way after — she is, by far, the cleverest actress in London. Any leaning she may have toward Ibsen and cult I will straighten swiftly. I am in grave doubt as to whether I had best open the theatre with a week or so of repertory, and gather in thus all classes of people (for, with certain plays, such as "Brummell," "Jekyll and Hyde," etc., we are sure of full houses) or whether it would be best to commence with a new play, and a possible — nay, likely, failure? I could commence with "Brummell," "A Parisian Romance," "Prince Karl," "The Scarlet Letter," "Arms and the Man," "Napoleon," and "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," which is my repertory in Harlem this coming week, March 23. If I open with a new play it would, probably, be "Candida," by Bernard Shaw, if the play, on arrival here (I shall see it on Monday), proves to be clean — if not, with "The Errant King," by Charles Leonard Moore, a Philadelphian. The story is clean and pretty — a romantic King (modern) who wan- ders away — turns actor — falls in love with a beautiful girl, SUGGESTIONS 231 an actress; the language is good^ and all is sweet and clean and pretty, and not lacking in humor. I also have "Galeotto/' much spoken of in Europe, where its success is very great. I should call it "Public Opinion." The story is also clean. Here, you see, we have three new plays. I have also "The Philanderer," by Bernard Shaw. It is an extraordinary thing. It turns Ibsen inside out, and the spectacle, as a result, is not a pleasant or agreeable one. All your wise counsels I will endeavor to follow and to impress upon my people. I fear ISIrs. John Wood could not be engaged, under an enormous salary, — probably $400 or $500 a week. Would she be worth that? And could we find parts for her? Most of the other people you name would be gravely insulted if I ojBfered them engagements in my company — not one of them that does not think himself or herself a star of the first magni- tude, and certainly much greater than your poor R. M. You are not going to retire to private life for the next hundred years, and it is no use your talking about it. When, when, when, shall I see you? I cannot tell you how greatly I feel your goodness in sending me all these golden words. As ever your Richard. It had been a pleasure to propose for liis considera- tion various measures that seemed propitious to his success, and in proposing them I said: ... I have set down, as well as an aching head will let me, a few impressions as to your conduct of your new theatre. They are offered in response to your request, and merely as suggestive, and in no way presuming to intrude or advise. If I am here, I shall do whatever I can to help you. Everything 232 LIFE OF MANSFIELD will be done for you that intellectual sympathy can dictate, in any case, for every intellectual man in this community wishes you to succeed. W. W. Normandie Hotel, Washington, D. C, April 10, 1895. My Dear Winter: — Your good letter received. Your suggestion with regard to Shakespeare's birthday is a capital one — the idea had not occurred to me and I should like to realize it; but all our costumes and scenery for "The Merchant" were burnt, in the store-house fire. I shall, however, set about it at once, and see what may be accomplished. I have discarded play after play, and I am in despair. I cannot present — I cannot act, the sickening rot the play- wright of to-day turns out. Shaw's "Candida" was sweet and clean — but he's evidently got a religious turn — an awaken- ing to Christianity; and it's just two and one-half hours of preaching, and I fear the people don't want that. Also, there is no part for me but a sickly youth, a poet, who falls in love with Candida — who is a young lady of thirty-five and the wife of an honest clergyman, who is a socialist! There is no change of scene in three acts, and no action beyond moving from a chair to a sofa and vice versa. O, ye Gods and little fishes! I am now for "The Peruvians" ("The King of Peru"), which I think will be the right thing. Light — bright — simple — honest; a good bill for this time of the year. I have arranged with Mr. Watt — who came over on purpose — for the right to have dramatized and to use all Stanley Weyman's works — "A Gentleman of France," "Under the Red Robe," etc., and Mr. Watt is also arranging for me with all the other important authors for whom he is agent. This is strictly entre-nous — it would not be wise to put Frohman on the scent. I simply want to let you know that I disregard none of your advice. AN IDEAL 233 The Garrick Theatre — as a theatre — will be absolutely charming; I know of nothing prettier or more tasteful in New York City. I would, however, rather keep it closed than open badly, i.e., with the wrong sort of thing. In time I can train a Company to something like artistic excellence; and in time I can produce play after play; and I can, in time, find good plays. It is possible that I may prove — please God, I may — an incentive to good men to write for the stage. One thing is cer- tain — I will do absolutely nothing at the Garrick Theatre that a young girl may not venture to see, and I shall try to cater to YOUNG people principally. I shall try to avoid all morbid, etc., etc., etc., etc., subjects: you can fill in these words, for you know just what I mean. I shall try to bring things back to a healthy, virile tone — to make life brighter and better, and give honor and courage a fresh start. I'm for a lance, with a bow of my lady's ribbon! I don't like to talk of all my plans and all my hopes — my boat, with youth at the helm and hope in the bow, may come a ship-wreck — still, I shan't be disgraced for trying. I shall commence very quietly and modestly. I am in no hurry to open — we've all the year before us; perhaps ten years. . . . The whole scheme of decoration in the house is very simple. The character is Italian Renaissance — the scheme of color is a study in reds; everything is red, and the lights will cast a pleasant, rosy sheen over everybody and everything. The wood panelling is black oak. From the foyer a staircase leads below to the Ladies' Dressing Room and a Pompeian room, which is also devoted to them, and in which a fountain will make a soothing plashing of water. Here M. Maillard, the celebrated confectioner, will provide a cup of tea or coffee, or an ice. Women who come to the theatre from a distance suffer often from lack of refreshment, and as I have already said, this theatre of mine is to be for youth and beauty and comfort and courtesy. A lady may travel from Orange or Staten Island, and spend a comfortable hour, before the play, in the theatre. 234 LIFE OF MANSFIELD There will be no magnificent ushers — a dozen bright boys in buttons will show you to your seat and obey your nod. If they do not behave — they are paid to take a kick. The func- tionary in the box-office will smile and say "If you please," like Sir Joseph Porter. There will be no brass in the orchestra — no drum. Occa- sionally, Miss Marguerite Hall, or somebody else with a beauti- ful voice and an admirable method, will sing for us between the acts of the play, some old ballad that we all know and love to hear. The Theatre will not be a cold, musty, dusty, dismal place that smells of gas and ill-conditioned drains, but a pleasant place where men and women may turn in and rest, and go away brightened, furbished, and refreshed. Ever yours, Richard Mansfield. Mansfield's association with the Garrick Theatre extended over a period of about eight months. He opened that house on April 23, acting Captain Bluntschli, and, personally, he was cordially wel- comed. Quick changes of bill ensued. An insig- nificant drama called "The King of Peru" was produced on May 7 and withdrawn on May 12. A revival of "Prince Karl" was made, and that was supplemented with other selections from Mansfield's old repertory. On June 1 he closed his first engage- ment, and on June 3 he presented a burlesque, entitled "Thrilby," — a verbal and musical skit at Du Manner's fanciful story of "Trilby," at that time a subject of considerable public interest, — in I'liotoyruph h\j Pack Bros. RICHARD MANSFIELD IX 1895 FANCIED FOES 235 the representation of which, of course, he did not participate. The performance of that burlesque was, in various ways, meritorious, but the community was indifferent to it, and after a losing career of six weeks it was laid aside, July 13, and the theatre was closed. Mansfield's health had, all the wliile, been failing, and he now completely broke down. He was attacked by typhoid fever and for several weeks it seemed Hkely that the attack would prove fatal. Once, indeed, rumor signified that he was dying. He ral- lied, however, to the great relief of his friends, and in the autumn he went to Lakewood. At the time of his opening of the Garrick Theatre Mansfield had seriously entertained the singular, inexplicable fancy that a social faction had arisen, in New York, to oppose and injure him. He did not name the members of it, nor did he specifically designate its character or its method of proceeding. That it was in existence and would be maliciously operative he felt assured, and he resolved upon such measures for its defeat as he beheved would be decisive. Before presenting any play, in the course of his business, he would give "three public Dress Rehearsals" of it, to which admission could be bought, and those representations, necessarily imper- fect, should be followed by the first regular perform- ance. By that means the faction was to be discom- 236 LIFE OF MANSFIELD fited; and he seems also to have believed that the newspaper press, — which has been known to fore- cast and even to anticipate "news," rather than wait a few hours for the fact, — would wait three or four days before publishing any comment on his proceed- ings. His plan, of which no friend could approve, was set forth in these words: 104. West 80th Street, New York, May, 1895. My Dear Winter: — I'm sorry you don't like the idea of the Public Dress Rehearsals. It is, at least, nothing new, and I intend to make this arrangement always. First nights are hideous — especially in this town, where a certain class of persons have monopolized the theatre upon these occasions, and not to the advantage of Art. These people are not friendly to me — it is a faction. This move of mine, if it does not destroy the enemy, — at least cuts their army into three parts, and leaves each part uncertain where to meet me. But this is not so important as the fact that these creatures have made a first night a terror to the actor: it was always bad enough, but these ghouls have multiplied its horrors. Many managers have, recently, in part overcome the diffi- culty by presenting the play out of town in the first instance. This method is not expedient for me. My dress rehearsals, — a plan which I shall, now, always follow — will take away a great deal of our nervousness, and will make a first night virtually the third performance of the play; and we shall have discovered mistakes in author, in delivery of lines, in mise-en- scene, etc., which can be corrected. It also affords the reviewer an opportunity, if he wishes to become thoroughly "DRESS REHEARSALS" 237 acquainted with the work. When applied to really important productions it will be generally appreciated and largely followed. 1 have to study next Sunday, and get a few words into my head, otherwise I had intended coming over. I called on Jefferson, at the Fifth Avenue: he cannot play at our house. He has a contract with Palmer, at the Garden Theatre. He is coming to "Prince Karl" this evening. Yours always, Richard Mansfield. The performances of "The King of Peru," given, in pursuance of his futile plan, as "Dress Rehearsals," were not, in any essential particular, different from customary performances, and he did not again resort to that abortive expedient for attracting public atten- tion. In calling on Jefferson he had followed a suggestion which I had ventured to make, that it would prove advantageous for him to persuade the famous comedian to act at the Garrick, in the autumn, presenting "The Rivals." The prodigious popularity of Jefferson might have operated to avert disaster, and so might have saved the for- tunes of the house for the young manager to whom the enterprise was so important and so dear. The condition and feehng of the actor, under the strain of misfortune and sickness, were indi- cated in a letter that he wrote, after leaving town : 238 LIFE OF MANSFIELD Lakewood, New Jersey, October 27, 1895. ... I am at present at Lakewood Asylum — where I think William Winter should join me. I am dwelling in a cottage, alone. William will only have to write one exhaust- ive review this week, that of the new play "Macbeth," which is to be presented at Abbey's Theatre, and then, in order to avoid all disagreeable comment, he can come down here. A slip from " " was sent me recently — cut out care- fully and marked with a red and blue pencil, referring to William's (not William Shakespeare's but W. W.'s) annual pilgrimage to the tombstones and graveyards of merry old England; but as there was an even more unpleasant reference to me upon the same page, I failed to be amused: if there had been nothing disagreeable said about me I should, no doubt, have been hugely entertained. Beyond these few brief facts I know nothing — which is the plainest and truest statement I have ever made! I have been in a bed-room so long that my ideas have narrowed down con- siderably, and since then I have crawled about with a stick, and an ardent desire to beat somebody, for something or other that somebody must have done to bring about such a condition of affairs. You don't suppose, do you, that a fellow, just as he is baring his arms and straightening his legs for the fight, can be knocked over, and stay knocked over for ten weeks, unless somebody hit him — do you? Do you believe that evil wishes hurt people? If William will come here, and stay here awhile, in this sacred spot, he will find an amiable and pacific idiot, brooding over the Past — instead of a rampageous and belligerent ass, braying defiance at the world. Let him come, and let him see! The little cottage is delightful; the walks through the oaks and pine refreshing. I have not been recognized here by a mortal being — neither will he! Let him come? I retire at nine. I RODION 239 rise at seven. If you take the 1.40 train, you arrive here about 4.30. Yours always truly, Richard Mansfield. By the way, W. W. might bring Henry Irving down here with him, to spend Sunday. I promise to be very agreeable; — also Miss Terry and Mr. B. Stoker. As soon as he had measurably recovered from dis- tressing and dangerous illness he resumed his pro- fessional labor, appearing, November 25, 1895, at the Chestnut Street Opera House, Philadelphia, as Brummellj, and giving, in the course of one week, several selections from his repertory. Meanwhile he had arranged for the re-opening of the Garrick Theatre, and that house was occupied from Sep- tember 2 till October 28 by Edmund Milton Hol- land, Joseph Holland, and a company, under Mansfield's management, performing in "The Man with a Past" and "A Social Highwayman." On December 3 Mansfield reappeared at the Garrick, acting, for the first time, the part of Bodion, in a drama derived, indirectly, from a Russian novel called "Crime and Punishment." His acting, in one scene of that play, was remarkable for its afflic- tive exhibition of a state of mental torture, — Rodion, who has committed a murder, being shown as repeat- ing, in delirium, the commission of that crime, and exhibiting the tremor and misery of his terror and 240 LIFE OF MANSFIELD remorse. The scene of the enacted murder was recognized as a rough variant of the Dream Scene in the well-known play of "The Bells," and Mans- field's acting in it did not suffice to mitigate the repulsiveness of literal horror inherent in a shock- ing story prosily told. The play was a failure, as it desei'ved to be, and as such nightmares invariably are. The adverse result was attributed by the actor, not to its obvious cause, — the dreary, obnoxious, repellent character of the subject and the drama, — but to the hostihty of those inveterate sinners, "the critics"; and, brooding upon that mistaken notion of injustice, he became much embittered. In a magazine article that he published, several years afterward, his views and feelings relative to this melancholy subject were thus made known: "... The saddest spot in the sad life of the actor is to be forgotten. . . . Every character he creates is a child he bears. There is labor and there is pain. He has bestowed upon it his love and incessant thought, and, sleeping and waking, it is with him as with a mother. When it is born it is born like the children of the King, — in public. . . . Sometimes, when the people have acclaimed it, those whose business it is to sit in judgment on the child condemn it on first sight, and it is buried in its little coffin, and only its mother weeps over it. . . . Poor, wretched, fever-wrought Rodion stands before me. . . . After the scene of delirium, in which Rodion kills his imagined victim, I broke down. The curtain had fallen; the audience sat perfectly still; there was not a breath of applause. I had l'hijt()ijnti)h hij Hiilh \i'ic York E. M. HOLLAND SOTHERN AS RODION 241 failed. I was carried to my room. Then there came to me the thunder of approval. It woke me — it revivified me. I went before the curtain, again and again. My child had triumphed! All my troubles, my sickness, my losses, were forgotten. But there is no mercy in these matters. The next day my child was killed. The next night he was dead of neglect, and there was no one at his funeral. ..." The pathos of that lament is somewhat vitiated by remembrance of the fact that the newspaper notices of Mansfield's performance of Rodion were, in general, favorable. The "child" languished, and ultimately expired, because the public was not inter- ested by it, and the pubUc was not interested by it because it was not interesting. It may not be amiss to mention that twelve years later, in the sea- son of 1907-'08, a drama on the same subject, called "The Fool Hath Said— There Is No God," by Lawrence Irving, was presented by Edward H. Sothern, who acted the same part — with the same result, public avoidance and financial loss. Yet Mr. Sothern's impersonation of Rodion, the homicidal fanatic, — considered as to its technical merit, — was an exceptionally fine piece of acting; a minute study of morbid mentahty, clear, consistent, and deftly finished. The character of Rodion is an image of disease and the play is a horror. Mansfield, in choosing to act that part, undoubt- 242 LIFE OF MANSFIELD edly reasoned that since Matliias, in "The Bells," had been made effective, Rodion^ in "Crime and Pmiishment," could likewise be made effective. Both are murderers. Both suffer remorse. Both rehearse the action of a murder. But there is a radical difference in the story, in the investiture, in the conduct of the plot, in the treatment of the details, and, above all, in the quahty and fibre of the character of the murderer; and for that radical difference no allowance was made. Mansfield gave his last performance at the Gar- rick Theatre on December 14, 1895, relinquishing the lease of that house to Mr. Charles Frolmian, and once more resorting to "the hard, hard road." From that time, till the time of his peculiar good fortune with Rostand's drama of "Cyrano de Ber- gerac," — a welcome prosperity, which came to him in October, 1898, — his professional experience was, comparatively, uneventful, being only that of monotonous and mostly thankless labor. His quest of fresh subjects for stage treatment meanwhile did not cease. He thought of acting Frederick the Great and also, if he could obtain a novel drama on the subject, Henry the Eighth. In the autumn of 1896, he produced, in Chicago, a new play, called "Castle Sombras," by Mr. Greenough Smith. In NEW PLAYS 243 the autumn of 1897 he brought out, in Albany, "The Devil's Disciple," by Mr. G. B. Shaw. In the spring of 1898 he presented, in Boston, "The First Violin." In "Castle Sombras" he personated an austere nobleman, grim and gloomy, of the stormy, picturesque period of Charles I., — by name Sir John Somhras, and by nature misanthropical, though philosopliic and magnanimous in mind. That was a failure. Mr. Shaw's play afforded to him the part of Dick Dudgeon, a humorous, reckless youth, the terror of a sober New Eng- land community. The play of "The First Viohn," based on the novel of that name by Jessie Fother- gill, enabled him, as Eugene Courvoisier, to set forth a romantic ideal of manhness, fortitude, and noble self-sacrifice, in a winning image of gentle personality. The most popular of those three new plays was "The Devil's Disciple," wliich, when introduced on the New York stage, in October, 1897, at the Fifth Avenue Theatre, had a run of sixty-four consecutive performances. He again ventured, several times, with "Richard III." in the course of this period, and his venture, — undertaken with gloomy foreboding, — was, to his surprise and delight, well rewarded. In November, 1896, while acting, at the Garden Theatre, as Glo'ster, he wrote to a friend: 244 LIFE OF MANSFIELD I am pleased and flattered that you should have liked Richard — but it was far from my liking that evening. I do not remember when I have felt more strange and out of place on the stage. It was one of my wooden nights, when nothing less than two cases of champagne would have roused me; as they were not handy — I went to sleep ! What a hideous profession it is, that compels us to produce ourselves, and create, when we are "not in the vein"! There was, too, an imbecile brute in the orchestra who, with a strong yellow light upon his countenance, was fatally determined upon bobbing up and down and turning over sheets of music, and he always did so just as I was going off into a trance. . . . We have met, so far, with wonderful and imexpected suc- cess. I had the gravest doubts concerning the result, when I accepted the Garden Theatre arrangement. The house has been full, every night. I am glad to be able to say that / have not! . . . In the season of 1897-'98 he employed, as "man- ager," Albert Marshman Palmer (1838-1905), sar- castically alleging a vindictive motive for that ami- able action. Palmer, who had been one of the most successful and influential of theatrical managers in New York, was infirm in health, poor in cir- cumstances, and broken in spirit, and Mansfield's purpose, in giving him emploj^ment, was that of practical kindness, and not that of "vengeance," as he grimly stated to me that it was. Mansfield did not like Palmer, for the reason, as he intimated to me, that when a member of the Union Square stock-company, he had suffered under the harsh J'Initiiiiriiiili I'll i^driiuij. Xcii- Vdil: ALBERT M. PALMER A. M. PALMER 245 exercise of that manager's authority. But Mans- field was kind-hearted, and he did not often cherish enmity. He spoke only the truth of him- self when he said that he was "sorry for old people," and he was exceptional, as the world goes, in remem- bering that persons who, in the noon of their ability and opportunit}^ have done much and good service, are entitled to consideration in the decadence of their powers and fortunes, and in the twihght of life. It was characteristic, likewise, of his con- tradictory, perverse nature to ascribe to himself a bad motive for doing a good deed. Palmer became, in fact, his agent, in wliich capacity sev- eral other persons were also employed at the same time. But Mansfield managed his affairs himself, and, to the last, permitted no interference with his business schemes and policy. The theme of "The First Viohn" had long been attractive to him, the peculiarly German sen- timent and atmosphere of the story, no doubt, appealing strongly to his German taste. That theme, and many others, we had discussed, and I had named to him various plays that it seemed practicable to revive. Some of his comments exhibit his astute consideration of dramatic mate- rial and his thorough practical knowledge of liis profession : 246 LIFE OF MANSFIELD 104 W. 80th Street, New York, March 5, 1897. My Dear Winter: — Thank you for your kind letter and all your kindly interest. I believe, with you, that " " is a good thing to do, and I will underline it for next season. . . . "The Man o' Airlie" will do as it is. Perhaps, if a good play were written around Ohenreizer, it might be advisable to do it — altho' I begin to think the less we do disagreeable things the better; however, all depends on the play, does it not? "No Thoroughfare" strikes me as being a bad play. . . . "Yorick's Love" will need re-writing; it is talky to a degree, and, moreover, a mistake, to my thinking, has been made, in placing the period in Shakespeare's time. There is no change of costume for the Tragedy, and the spectator is puzzled, thereupon, to know whether the scene is being acted on the stage of the Globe, before an audience, or what not. Concerning the Du Maurier story, now running in Harper's — I fancy that has already been disposed of, and grabbed by some manager ; yet there can be no harm in trying to secure the rights. "The First Violin" is safe to do well, with a fairly good version — with Eugene as a character, and the love-story strong. I don't think we want much singing or piano-playing. Unless these are done by a Master (and I am none), they are best left alone. . . . It is not an easy subject (for a play). Everything depends upon the character of Courvoisier. I think he ought to be made an actual and a strong type — but how, I cannot tell. ..." R. M. Two or three plays on "The First Violin" were critically examined by him and were rejected, but at last he obtained one that he deemed satisfactory by making it himself, in cooperation with Mr. J. I. C. Clarke. That piece was first acted, April 18, 1898, USE OF MUSIC 247 at the Hollis Street Theatre, Boston, and a week later was brought to the Garden Theatre, New York, where it had a prosperous career of five weeks. The pen name assumed by the actor, on that occa- sion, was Meridan Phelps. JNIansfield's protest as to "singing or piano-playing," — an embelHshment entirely appropriate to a play about a musician, — was prompted by an odd notion of his that by using those expedients he would too much "entertain" his audience, and thus detract from the estimation in wliich he wished to be held as an actor. He knew perfectly well the peculiar value of music, when rightly used, in association wdth drama, and he was Hkewise aware of his exceptional ability as a musi- cian. But he had once been an "entertainer," and decidedly he wished not again to appear in that capacity or to do anything to invite that designation. Sometimes, indeed, he would use music, both vocal and instrumental, and his use of it would be superbly effective, arousing lively dehght and winning whole- hearted applause; but at such times he would view the result with mixed emotions, being at once irri- tated and gratified by the enthusiastic admiration that his musical accomplishment had evoked. Music, accordingly, was not made conspicuous in his pre- sentation of "The First Viohn." It seems strange, in the retrospect, that Mans- 248 LIFE OF MANSFIELD field did not produce "Othello." At almost any time in his career a production of that play would have commanded public attention, and, even when he was most loath to approach a heavy undertaking, "Othello" did, sometimes, come into his mind as an alternative. After he had become recognized and established as the leader of the American stage, — a position which, in later years, was generally con- ceded to him, — a revival of that tragedy, with alter- nate assumptions of Othello and lago, would cer- tainly have been expedient for him, and, probably, it would have prospered: for, terrible though it is, and inexpressibly pathetic and cruelly harrowing to the feelings, that play, technically considered, as a piece of dramatic construction, is the greatest in our language, and it provides boundless opportuni- ties for acting, and exerts a tremendous influence upon an audience. Mansfield's active spirit was ever chafing under the ardent desire of doing fine tilings, and many were the projects that he considered (1897), pursued for a while, and then cast aside. More than once he thought of acting Hamlet, but from that undertaking I earnestly dissuaded him. Hamlet is a part to which he was entirely unsuited, and, happily, he never experimented with it, though several times he had almost determined to announce that he would play it: VALJEAN 249 104 W. 80th Street, New York, November 11, 1897. My Dear Winter: — Will you dine here with me next Sunday evening, at seven? It is necessary I should see you — and I can't get over to the island you inhabit. Life is full of vexations, trials and disappointments — nothing survives but the memory; and let it be the memory of happy hours ! . . . We put " " into rehearsal. It's too deadly — it won't do ! — we'd starve ! ! I want a version of "Henry V.," and some day I'll have to do Hamlet. You understand, the living will do these things. It's expected. You may as well accept these things as necessary evils — and let me have a good version, and coach me. At present I know nothing about it. Say Sunday.'' Yours ever, R. M. Another subject for a play upon which he medi- tated was Victor Hugo's great novel, "Les Mis^ra- bles." That story, as all readers know, is won- derfully interesting, profoundly humanitarian, and inexpressibly pathetic, but practically it is not dramatic. A play based upon it was submitted to his attention, but ultimately he decided that the part of Valjean would prove gloomy and dreary, besides being an exhaustive tax upon his strength, and so he wisely relinquished the idea of acting it. His views relative to heavy productions on the stage were expressed to me, in reference to that 250 LIFE OF MANSFIELD piece, which, indeed, I had tried to edit for his use, when he was considering the subject: My Dear Old Fellow:— I do not think that I could undertake a heroic part, and I could not put on an expensive production — nothing like Paris during the Revolution, and with such scenes as a fight at the barricades would entail. And then Five Acts and a Prologue — I am afraid we won't find any audience to stand that, no mat- ter how good the play may be — unless the acts are very short. We never commence in New York until 8.30, and you know we must be out at eleven. We allow seven minutes for the setting of a scene — altho', in these days, it generally takes 12. Therefore, the modern play-goer gets, practically, one and a half hours of solid play ! It is on this account, partly, that I have been so strenuously opposing productions, of late. This scenery is ruining me — scenery, and dresses, and heaps of people! Here I am with a salary list of $1,800 a week. By April I shall have paid out $53,000 in salaries alone! If we were to play only in New York or in London — with occasional trips into the larger cities of the Provinces, I should be all right, and able to produce many plays finely, but I go from Oshkosh to Kalamazoo — I have no abiding place, and I live on the railroad track ! The railway expenses for people and scenery are enormous; railroads last week, $1,256! If I am ever to make money I must follow Jefferson's example, and find a powerful character with an inexpensive cast, and no scenery. A really fine play may run to decent business for one month in New York — all the rest is a loss and an advertisement for the Provinces — and they no longer accept a New York verdict — they judge for themselves, and the little writers of the local papers are striving to form local judgment. If we want to make money we must have a great character, in the simplest setting. And I do not desire to appear always INCUBUS OF SCENERY 251 as an old man — I want a simple story, and a strong love interest, and no scenery. I must use my youth whilst it lasts — it is nearly gone — and convince the girls that I know how to make love, and show them that I have some fire and passion. I shall be in New York in three weeks, and we look forward to seeing you. Yours ever, Richard Mansfield. Mansfield's disapproval of the use of elaborate, heavy, and costly scenery was, unquestionably, judicious, because the investiture of a play should always be subordinated to its intrinsic interest and dramatic power, meaning, and value. It happened, however, strangely enough, that his final relief from a crushing burden of debt, and likewise his acquisi- tion of almost unrivalled popularity throughout the country, ensued from a production of the heaviest kind and a play of ephemeral interest. A little while before "Valjean" was suggested to him, — mention of Hugo's novel having been made because of his known desire for great and impressive sub- jects, — he had written to me: I am THE man — and I intend to stay there, I have no small ambitions, and if I find it impossible to do good and noble work I shall do none at all. My purposes are to present great historical plays, to depart from tradition, to instruct while I entertain. I have in view Napoleon Bonaparte, Frederick the Great, Henry the Eighth (not Shakespeare's), and, for lighter work, I shall present fairy tales for children, but fairy tales 252 LIFE OF MANSFIELD that have a powerful moral, such as "The Man Without a Shadow." I need new plays — that's all! Early in 1898, while prosperous with "The Devil's Disciple" and while preparing to produce "The First Violin," he heard of the success that Constant Coquelin had achieved abroad with "Cyrano de Bergerac," and he considered the expediency of offering to his public an English version of that French drama. His season in New York ended on June 14, and in July he went to London, where he saw, at the Lyceum Theatre, the performance of that play, given by Coquelin and a French com- pany. Whatever doubt he might have entertained as to the feasibility of acting the Rostand romance in English was dispelled, and, returning to America, he immediately began active preparations for its presentment. It was not protected by American copyright, and he could not acquire the exclusive control of it, but he hoped and expected to prevail in holding it, by his priority, his commanding posi- tion, and the splendor of scenic adornment with which he would invest it. The result measurably justified his expectation. "Cyrano de Bergerac" was produced by him at the Garden Theatre, New York, on October 3, 1898, and it proved an affluent, unequivocal success. On the same night, in Phila- CYRANO 253 delphia, another version of the play was produced by Augustin Daly, — Ada Rehan acting Roxane, and Mr. Charles Richman acting Cyrano; and soon a bounteous crop of bulbous-snouted lovers over- spread the stage, as if some Cadmus had been sow- ing noses instead of dragon's teeth all over the land. Mansfield retained Cyrano in his repertory for more than a year, acting it almost continu- ously, and drawing crowds of interested spectators wherever he appeared. It was not until December, 1899, that he deemed it advisable to revert to selec- tions from the repertory in which he had already been accepted. The germ of the central idea contained in "CjTano de Bergerac" could have been found in Balzac's novel of "Modeste Mignon": at all events, it occurs there. The heroine of that fiction begins a correspondence with Canalis, who turns the affair over to his sec- retary, L,a Brier e, and the latter, in the assumed personality of his patron, makes a noble showing of himself, and fascinates, and ultimately wins, the lady. Rostand's play is not directly based on Bal- zac's novel, — since it uses a different set of char- acters, and illustrates its theme in a different way and pursues it to a different conclusion. But the theme has been exhausted by Balzac, whose treat- ment of it is exceedingly felicitous. The late Mr. 254 LIFE OF MANSFIELD Paul Leicester Ford, long an esteemed friend of Mansfield's, treated the same postulate, in a modi- fied manner, in a composition called "The Story of an Untold Love." Still another tale relative to this idea was written, many years ago, by Mrs. Frank McCarthy, entitled "Wanted — a Soul." Mansfield's production of "Cyrano" conferred the "luxury of woe" on thousands of such persons as are inter- ested in the troubles of true love. Its course, as usual, did not run smooth. In January, 1899, Mans- field, when acting in Chicago, was sued, conjointly with Edmond Rostand, for royalties on "Cyrano de Bergerac," and was enjoined from further presentment of the play, but later the restriction was removed. The plaintiff in the suit was Mr. Samuel Eberly Gross, who charged that Rostand's play was a plagiarism of a drama by him, called "The Merchant Prince of Cornville," which, he declared, had been acted at the Novelty Theatre, London, as long ago as November 11, 1896, when Rostand might have seen it or heard of it. The decision in the case, ratified, by Judge C. C. Kohlsaat, in the United States Circuit Court for the Northern District of Illinois, was favorable to Mr. Gross. Careful study of Mr. Gross's play and comparison of it with that of M. Rostand, did not then, and does not now, discover any adequate reason Photograph by E. \V. Uistcd, A'cr- York RICHARD MANSFIELD IN 1898 ROSTAND 255 for supposing that M. Rostand had an acquaintance with Mr. Gross's drama, when he wrote "Cyrano de Bergerac." The protagonist of the play was one of his countrymen, recorded and described in French biography, and the learning of M. Rostand had so impressed Coquelin as to cause that actor to say "He knows everything." There can be no doubt that he possessed ample knowledge of the history of his native land and was under no necessity of seeking inspiration or information about Cyrano from a writer in Chicago. The probable indebted- ness of M. Rostand to Balzac has already been intimated. The author to whom, obviously, he is indebted is Shakespeare. Mansfield, however, was obliged to pay royalties to Mr. Gross, for the use of M. Rostand's drama, and that payment he made, as long as he continued to act in it. IX. 1899 TO 1906. With the production of "Cyrano de Bergerac" the tide of pecuniary emolument turned in Mans- field's favor, and in his favor, thereafter, it con- tinued to flow. No play that he subsequently pro- duced could be accounted a total failure, while several of his later productions were abundantly remunerative. "The Misanthrope," indeed, did not prove popular; but he did not lose money by it, and his recourse to Alceste was advantageous to his professional reputation. "Don Carlos" was not largely attractive; but the revival of it gratified the German public, and by his picturesque, pas- sionate impersonation of its hero he augmented his renown. "Peer Gynt" did not obtain the lucrative acceptance that he had hoped for it, — thinking, as he did, that the public was eager for sometliing bizarre; but his fine acting sustained even that dreary burden for a httle while, his popu- larity averting disaster from the representation of nebulous gammon. The other productions that he made were munificently compensated. With "Henry 256 PROSPERITY 257 v.," "Beaucaire," "Julius Csesar," "Old Heidel- berg," and "Ivan the Terrible" he was triumphant, and in Iiis later years his well-tried repertory was "a tower of strength." A serious illness interrupted his industry early in 1899, and kept him from the stage for three weeks, February 13 to March 6, and, in the spring of 1900, he was obhged to close his season earlier than he had intended, because of a disabling affection of the throat; but he met with no other serious impediment. The prosperity that then attended his professional labor not only enabled him, as time passed, to pay all his debts, — an adjust- ment of worldly affairs in which he found great satisfaction, — but to accumulate a considerable property, which he destined for the wife and child whom he idolized. His view of himself as a man of business was ingenuously expressed to me, about that time, 1899, on an occasion when I had ven- tured to remonstrate with him, upon some apparent extravagance: "You are mistaken," he said; "I am not extravagant. Some of the greatest financiers have been extravagant, — witness Fouque. But I am not. Most of the persons whom I employ think I make money easily, and that there will be extravagance, and that money is to be easily made out of me. But they are mistaken. I am, in fact, a very close calculator, or I should not be ahve 258 LIFE OF MANSFIELD to-day. I am always ready to give freely, but I can only do that by watching closely every dollar that I earn, or that is rightly mine, and I do so." That was an amiable delusion. He did not "watch his dollars," — unless, indeed, he watched their flight. "There goes a man," he said to me, one day when we were strolHng in the avenue, "whom I could send to prison. He is a thief. He has stolen at least $50,000 of my money." Mansfield's losses were large. During his theatrical seasons in Eng- land, in 1888-'89, as certified by himself, they amounted to $167,000. Between that time and 1895 he suffered other heavy losses, — although also he earned much money, and "paid as he went." His sickness in 1895 cost him $80,000, but, as he then wrote, "I have saved my theatre," — ^meaning the Garrick. He had not saved it for long, however, and while he continued to retain it his losses were increased. In short, he must have carried, for some time, a debt verging to nearly half a million. By 1901, through one agent alone, he had paid more than $200,000, squaring accounts with various creditors, but it was not till the end of the season of 1904-'05 that he was completely clear of debt and could think of his possessions as free from encumbrance. Those facts indicate the magnitude of his ultimate professional popularity and of the FIDELITY 259 compensation that he obtained for his professional exertions. Prosperity on the stage had enabled him to make profitable investments that helped to unshackle liim. It was prosperity richly deserved; for Mansfield made splendid productions; he put forth all his strength; and, in dealing with the pub- he, he was never niggard of either his money or himself: he was never known to slight a perform- ance, however trivial the part that he assumed or however unimportant the place in which he hap- pened to be acting. The noble achievements of his later years imply an opulent yet sorrowful sug- gestion of the great things that he would have done, if sufficient wealth had come to him earlier in life. No actor has ever proclaimed a more generous ideal of management than Mansfield avowed, on the last night of his presentment of ''Richard III.," at Palmer's Theatre, in 1889. "What I take from the public with one hand," he said, "I will give back with the other." A German proverb declares that "Living is striv- ing." Up to the point where he gained affluent financial success with "Cyrano de Bergerac" Mans- field's professional life, as shown in many details of it and as indicated in some of his letters, was one of incessant toil, carking anxiety, and fretful contention. From that point onward, although liis 260 LIFE OF MANSFIELD high endeavor was not abated nor his strenuous exertion relaxed, he advanced more easily, he acquired more sincerity, he dwelt more in the sun- shine, and he was happier than before. Success did not entirely tranquillize him nor remove all asperity from his character and manners : no man ever escapes from himself: but it made him more gentle, con- siderate, and philosopliical, and gradually it turned his thoughts, and perhaps his wishes, toward dis- continuance of the struggle. In one of his letters to me, half playful, half serious, written in the season of 1899-'00, that inchnation was indicated: "I fully realize what you say about the twilight of our lives, but some of us — and you are one — have calciums in our 'in'ards,' that can brilliantly illumine our days, to the end. Therefore, be of good cheer. I should greatly Hke to see you. I have set the limit to this business — five more years, and then a cottage, and honeysuckle, and jasmine, and all the sweet flowers of the garden, and a whiff of the ocean, in dear old England! I am sick to death of the sawdust that the doll is stuffed with." He was, nevertheless, still eager for novelties. "We are, unfortunately, without a new play," he wrote, "because the French gentleman (?), to whom I paid $5,500 for a play, has kept my money, but has delivered no MS, These foreign people treat every- Pliotoyiapli by licutlin EDMOND ROSTAND "KING HENRY V. " 261 thing about us with great contempt — excepting always our money." The disappointment was not without its compensation, for it hastened his resort to an earlier choice, and caused him once more to try a Shakespearean revival. The imposing his- torical play of "Henry V.," which had not been acted in New York since 1875, — when Charles Calvert produced it, at Booth's Theatre, with George Rignold as Kirig Henry, — was wisely selected for that venture. He had long been thinking of it. "I am very anxious," he wrote, "that you should edit a playing version of 'Henry V.' Both Charles Kean and Calvert cut the play — notably the speeches of Henry — all to pieces. I have restored all the fine passages. I desire, particularly, a Preface from your pen. Appleton will publish the book." It seemed to me best that he should himself edit the play and write the Preface, since that labor, exacting nice discrimination as to every detail, could not fail to deepen the concentration of liis thought upon the subject, and fortify his command of it. "I am more sorry than I can say," he answered, replying to my refusal, "that you cannot under- take to write the Introduction to our version of 'Henry V.,' because, just at tliis time, there exists a condition of affairs the like of wliich, I suppose, is unknown in theatrical liistory — and it would be 262 LIFE OF MANSFIELD well for the 'bosses' to know that they cannot boss all of us. We have had unheard-of trouble in stag- ing 'Henry V.' After signing the contracts for the Garden, the Frohmans arranged with Mr. Sothern to come in, for a fortnight, before us, and gave him the use of the Theatre throughout the entire summer. We have been forced to rehearse, to build, to paint, anywhere — even in Brooklyn!" All obstacles were surmounted, though, and on October 3, 1900, at the Garden Theatre, New York, he accomphshed a magnificent representation of that superb drama, acting Henry of. Monmouth for the first time, and giving a performance of extraordi- nary vigor, variety, and beauty. His book of the play, with a thoughtful, interesting Preface and Notes, by himself, and with Notes on the Heraldry of the play, by Alfred J. Rodwaye, F.R.H.S., was published in the same season. In his presenta- tion of "Henry V." scrupulous attention was given to details, yet, strangely enough, in the Battle Scene, during the early performances, the royal standard of Great Britain was reared, a banner not adopted till nearly three hundred years after Henry V. had been laid in his grave. The season of 1900-'01 was devoted exclusively to "Henry V.," and then, on October 7, 1901, inaugurating a new theatre in Philadelphia, called "BEAUCAIRE" 263 The Garrick, he brought out a new play, entitled "Beaucaire," which had been made for liim bj^ jNIr. Booth Tarkington and Mrs. E. G. Sutherland, and in that he gave a light, bright, charming per- formance. The play was derived from a sparkling narrative, largely infused with colloquy, by Mr. Tarkington, in which, contrary to custom in tales of romance, the lover renounces his idol, upon find- ing that she is a selfish, worldly, time-serving woman, unworthy of love. That point was waived in the drama, conformably to the accepted theory that "a happy ending" is indispensable to a love-story on the stage. The play is a compound of the usual conventional incidents, — love, misunderstanding, impediment, peril, rescue, explanation, -sdllainy defeated, virtue rewarded, and ultimate connubial bliss. It provided Mansfield with an opportunity, which he ably improved, of manifesting liis remark- able skill in light comedy, and it became so popu- lar that he was enabled to use it, during the season of 1901-'02, as the principal feature of his reper- tory. "Beaucaire" was presented in New York for the first time on December 2, 1901, at the Herald Square Theatre, where it held the stage till January 25, 1902, and thereafter it was taken on a tour, southward as far as New Orleans and northward as far as Montreal. 264 LIFE OF MANSFIELD New St. Charles, New Orleans, My Dear Winter: — February 4, 1902. I was more than sorry that during my visit to New York I could not see you — that I could not come to you and that you could not come to me ! It is a great pity that two hearts that beat as .one should have to beat so far apart! — And that we can't smoke churchwardens and guzzle and chatter and nod and be Goldsmith and Garrick and all the rest of it: — "I where the lights are shining, You, all alone, in the gloom." It's time we had a little fun ! Next year — next summer — I go abroad. Beatrice leaves shortly for England, to find a home — will you go up to see her, and tell her about places — you know all about it, and can give her the most valuable advice. It is to be a cottage, all our own, where love and comfort and a modest competency are to attend our declining days — without regard to the nobility and gentry of the neighborhood. It is to be hoped that you will come and occasionally sojourn with Micawher! If you'll come to us in England, we will arrange to write "The Humorous Life of Mansfield," By an Eye-Witness. My love to you, R. M. The purpose of establishing a permanent home for himself in England had long been in liis mind, but it was never fulfilled. At the close of this tour, which ended at Montreal on July 4, he sailed from that port, and he passed several weeks at Wey- bridge, one of the loveliest retreats in the lovely county of Surrey — a land that lures the tired mortal to stay in it forever. In the meantime he thus cheerily recorded liis doings and impressions. ; ■si.'TL^-.' ' '. >-iT^ -^•■■Ty3suT-'>p&fliieaHMSHSsHrHSi3rr-:wstr RICHARD MANSFIELD "WORKING FOR MONEY" 265 St. Nicholas Hotel, St. Louis, April 10, 1902. My Dear Winter: — Sorry you are not quite all right — but I suppose California will quickly make you well. Sorry too that you are not going to England this summer. Beatrice will be sailing on the sea before you get this. She leaves on Saturday, by the Minne- haha. She, the boy, and the governess. She will find a place in England, and I shall — D. V. — join her in July, leaving from Montreal, where I close my season. If you had been on the other side, need I say how glad we should have been to have had a long visit from you.'' I will send your letter to B. and perhaps some of the places you mention may attract her — but I fancy she will want to be nearer London. Some of the so-called authors want to interview me about plays — ^which become more and more diffi- cult to obtain. No one knows what to produce. Shakespeare's plays have to be so garnished that the cost of production and the subsequent cost of transportation of scenery and company eat up all profits. In London Mr. Tree is producing "spectacles" only. "Ulysses" seems to be a sort of Christmas pantomime. "Herod" was disgusting, and "Paola and Francesca" futile. Also, as there are no actors in England, there are no authors. Irving tells me he will do nothing new. I am thinking only of saving enough money for B. and the boy to live on. If nothing good comes along I shall revive, next season, a large repertory of plays, tvell done as to scenery and costumes. This will, probably, pay as well as anything else, and, after all is said, we are working for money, and if it doesn't come in we are simply not successful. is sailing (and so is Mrs. ) on the Minnehaha, with B. and the boy, so B. will not want for company. Mrs. is an energetic Lady who is always starting some new enterprise and then dropping it. She coquettes with Fortune and is so fickle that she is eternally dropping the bone to pick 266 LIFE OF MANSFIELD up the shadow. Her last venture was a millinery establish- ment — her next may be a livery stable or a Tea Garden. How- ever it keeps her amused, and guessing! I hear Miss Adams is to play Juliet, all next season: Sothern Hamlet, Goodwin Othello and lago, Hackett King Lear, and Faversham Gilbert Parker's "Right of Way/' and all the novels of the season are to be dramatized. The Bible (The Syndicate has discovered that this book is well-known) is being largely employed for Dramatic purposes. / have had three plays about David — who seems to have been a very disreputable person — and even the Lambs Club has produced a comic opera on the subject of our Lord! I don't know what will happen next! The success of "Ben Hur" has set these people going. Cheer up! and believe me always yours, R. M. On Tour, Duluth, June 23, 1902. My Dear Winter: — It was a great pleasure to hear from you. This season has been somewhat unduly protracted by fat managers who sit and smoke cigars and "book dates." I have been travelling for weeks and weeks — sometimes I have been bumped for thirty- six hours at a stretch. A letter which I wrote to "The Herald" regretting the publicity accorded every wretched "faker" who doesn't want to work, or can't act — and thus encouraging incompetency, idle- ness, and cheap advertisement — has been largely circulated amongst "the profession," and "The Herald" has requested Mr. Tree's opinion, etc., etc., as to the decadence of the stage. Mr. Tree and the rest of that lot, both in England and here, are of the opinion that / am an ass (in which I entirely agree with them!) and that nobody in the world ever lived who could act as finely as Tree and his lot do ! "The Herald" has been very careful to avoid asking the opinion of anybody that "THE GRANGE" 267 knows anything. Irving, Wyndham, Coquelin, have all recently bemoaned the fact that it is almost impossible to secure even a decent actor or actress, for a reasonable compensation. I am trying to make up a cast for "Julius Caesar," but it is very difficult. I shall have to play Brutus. And he is, after all is said — the man. I am sailing from Montreal on July 5, on the Allan Steamer (the name of which is uncertain, as, just as soon as I have engaged a passage on one of the line it is instantly engaged by the British Government to import Boers or deport mules!). However, I sail on the 5th of July, and, if you are on the dock, with your bag, early — very early — I will take you along with me. I spend a couple of months at Wey bridge on the Thames. Yours always, Richard. On his return from England, in August, 1902, he went to New London, Conn., and, taking a fancy for that picturesque, interesting old town (the region was, many years ago, declared by Humboldt to be exceptionally blessed, as to soil, air, and water, with all the natural conducements to perfect health), he bought the first of the three estates there of which ultimately he was the possessor, and, styling it "The Grange," determined that it should be his final residence, and soon, by alteration and embellish- ment, converted it into a veritable Baronial Hall, such as he had often dreamed of possessing, in some peaceful English rural nook, "far from the mad- ding crowd's ignoble strife." 268 LIFE OF MANSFIELD Mansfield's passionate desire to be everywhere recognized as, absolutely and indisputably, the great- est actor of his time was in no respect abated, but rather was intensified, by every success that he achieved, and, to the end of his days, his ambition was never satisfied nor his mind ever wholly at rest. Supremacy in the impersonation of the great char- acters in Shakespeare was the prerogative at which he aimed. He was not an imitator of anybody, but, like many other of the actors of his generation, he had observed the careers of Edwin Booth and Henry Irving, and, unlike the mere servile imitators of those chieftains, he had early determined not only to emulate but, if* possible, to surpass them, in breadth of policy, audacity of adventure, and scope, variety, and importance of acliievement. He had noted Booth's wisdom in a steadfast adherence to Shakespeare, and he had considered the success attendant upon Irving's choice of weird characters and great historic themes. In itself original and inclined to take new paths, his mind was much stimulated, as well as instructed, by those examples, and his quest for untried subjects and for parts not less novel than important was, accordingly, never pretermitted. Several characters, out of the beaten track, have already been named, upon which his fancy looked with an approving eye, but wliich o