The life and art of Edwin Booth and his contemporaries

Contents

Miss Mary Anderson .

Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft Mr. Lawrence Barrett Mr. Edwin Booth.

Mr. and Mrs. Dion Boucicault Mr. J. S. Clarke .

Index

PAGE

William L. Keese • I William Archer , . 19 William M. Laffan . 37 Lawrence Barrett . 55

Benjamin Ellis Martin 77 Edw, Hamilton Bell . 95 Laurence Hutton . . 113 J. Ranken Towse . 131

H C. Bunner . .153 William Archer . .175 Jeannette Leonard Gilder 193 Clinton Stuart . .211 George H. Jessop . .229 Geo. Edgar Montgomery 247 Walter Hen ies Pollock 265 William Winter . .283 • • . 301

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

Edwin Booth as Hamlet .... Frontispiece Mary Anderson as Galatea in " Pygmalion and

Galatea" . . . 14

Lawrence Barrett as Cassius in " Julius Caesar " . 39

Edwin Booth 57

Dion Boucicault 79

Agnes R. Boucicault 86

W. J. Florence 115

Mrs. W. J. Florence 126

Henry Irving 133

Henry Irving as Mathias in "The Bells" . . 136

Joseph Jefferson as Bob Acres in "The Rivals". 158

Mr. and Mrs. W. H. Kendal 177

Ellen Terry as Henrietta Maria in "Charles I." 249 Lester Wallack as the Prince of Wales in

" Henry IV." 285

MISS MARY ANDERSON.

Beautiful lady from a far-off land, In whose fair form rejoicingly we trace The loveliest features of a kindred race

That bids thee welcome with an outstretched hand, Which lingers lovingly in clasped embrace, Until our deep emotions, in flushed face,

Thou mayest read, and reading understand Our passionate love of purity and grace ;

Springing spontaneous from thy generous heart !

We pray Heaven guard thee in thy noble art, Where art is lost ; — made so to intertwine

With purest nature, as to form a part Of thine own being — as entirely thine

That but one word expresseth it — it is Divine !

Francis Bennoch.

MISS MARY ANDERSON.

Since the death of Charlotte Cushman, the American stage has waited for an actress whose aspiration and endeavor might foreshadow an imperial rule. Women have appeared during the last ten years who have distinguished themselves in certain parts and won renown in the portrayal and expression of certain emotions ; but therein were equally revealed their powers and their limitations. The manifold attributes of mind and character, developed by serious purpose into a noble harmony, have not been clearly exhibited on our stage by any actress of recent years. To say this does not lessen the fame of any artist now before the public ; the assertion plucks no laurel from any deserving brow. I have said that actresses have become famous through certain impersonations, and I am well aware that not without thought and study were the portraits conceived and executed. But I do not regard the emotional expert as entitled to come under the head of Richelieu's phrase of " entirely great." Because a certain actress, for instance, has been exceptionally effective as Camille, it does not follow, I think, that equal identification would attend a new assumption. Would not a change of part rather be something of the nature of a fresh experiment ? — not the assured donning of a becoming mantle. As a rule, it is the opportunity for effective realism that appeals to the dramatic specialist, and just so far as the realistic possibilities of any given part accord with the ambition, temperament, and unique personality of the player, so far will be the measure of the success. It is noticeable that the performances of the specialist afford few, if any, felicitous contrasts. The acting is likely to be on the same plane of thought, feeling, and expression, and it compels interest and admiration by a sustained physical and emotional strain. I may be asked if the oculist and surgeon are not important adjuncts to the medical profession ? I answer, they are, of course ; but then we never expect to be blind nor to have a limb taken off, however frequently we know we may need the doctor.

The achievements of the actress whose name heads this paper demand a consideration far beyond my present limits ; but I think no consideration is needed to say that she has kindled a greater hope and gives a brighter promise than any American actress since the death of Charlotte Cushman. Perhaps she it is for whom the stage has been waiting. Something in her early aspiration; in the manner of her first appearance ; in the steps by which she has advanced ; in her patient yet energetic acquirement of the details of her art ; in her devotion to high ideals ; in her refined taste and nobleness of spirit ; in her painstaking zeal ; in her endowment of intelligence and beauty ; in her self-respecting nature ; — something in all these seems to point to a bright fulfilment of the present hope and promise.

Miss Mary Anderson was born on July 28, 1859. Her birthplace was Sacramento, California, but she was still an infant when her parents moved to Kentucky. The record of her early years is full of interest for those who study the careers of women of genius ; and it may be noted that she was wayward and restless under school and domestic restraint. Her nature was truthful, her disposition such as to make her a favorite wherever known, and she seems to have been the idol of her playmates. It is confessed that her school-learning was of small account, and her conduct under tuition often refractory. It was on leaving school, at the age of thirteen, that she began to study ; but her book was Shakspere, and the poet opened the gates of dream-land to her, as he has to so many others, before and since. We are told that the poet was an education to her, and that her intellectual development was rapid. The male characters of Shakspere interested her most at this time ; she studied with ardor the parts of Hamlet, Romeo, and Richard III. ; and while thus engaged she also employed herself in cultivating her voice. Her passion for the stage seems to have been inborn, and her first visit to the theatre was an event which held the seal of destiny. In her fourteenth year she saw Edwin Booth in Richard III., and the performance, as may well be imagined, was a revelation to her. Later she visited Miss Cushman, and received from that great actress an encouraging opinion of her powers, accompanied with the advice to place herself in study and training for another year before making an appearance in public. This advice was followed. For dramatic instructor the late Mr. Vandenhoff was selected, and he gave her ten lessons, which is said to have been her only professional training. Her first appearance was made at Macauley's Theatre, Louisville, on Nov. 27, 1875, m tne character of Juliet, the play-bill reading " by a Louisville Young Lady." It is on record that competent judges regarded this first performance as indicating great natural talent. From that time to the present Miss Anderson has steadily pursued her professional path, not without a share of the vicissitudes and disappointments that beset a theatrical career, and her progress has been watched with more than ordinary interest by the American theatre-going public.

Her first regular engagement was at the Louisville Theatre, in the January following her debut, and in the course of it she played Evadne, Bianca, Julia, and Juliet. This engagement was succeeded by her appearance in St. Louis, New Orleans, Washington, and San Francisco. A New York audience welcomed her for the first time on Nov. 12, 1877, when she appeared at the Fifth Avenue Theatre as Pauline, in the * Lady of Lyons.' She successively played Juliet, Evadne, Meg Merrilies and Parthenia. She made a first visit to Europe in 1878 (not a professional one), returning the same year, and playing again at the Fifth Avenue Theatre in a round of her chosen parts.

It is not needful to chronicle here the professional engagements of Miss Anderson from year to year. Let it suffice that she has played in all the principal cities of the Union, and in 1883 made a second visit to Europe, this time professionally, where she remained until the autumn of 1885, adding largely to her dramatic laurels by her performances in the United Kingdom, and winning great popular esteem by her personal worth. In August of 1885 she played

RosalincUhcr first appearance in that character) at Stratford-on-Avon, for the benefit of the Shakspere Memorial Theatre, and the proceeds of this performance may be seen in the beautiful sculptured emblems of Comedy and Tragedy which now adorn the front of the Memorial Hall where ' As You Like It ' was acted. On Miss Anderson's return to her native land she began the season of 1885-6 with Rosalind, at the Star Theatre in New York. This season, which embraced an extended tour of the United States, ended in May, 1886, and in June following the actress sailed again for England.

Eleven years have passed since Miss Anderson's first appearance. Her progress has shown a steady increase of dramatic comprehension and power, and her professional life has been marked by thoughtful study and conscientious work. She has added to her repertory from time to time, and her list of characters presents an array which tested many of her great predecessors. Free and beautiful, she stands before us as the foremost American actress, and her career from first to last, viewed in whatever light, is one of which we have every reason to be proud. It is worthy of all regard that from pure and sincere professional devotion Miss Anderson has never swerved.

But the time has not yet come when the lists may be closed and the crown awarded. Something is due to tradition — to famous actresses of the past who found the path to fame no royal road. An acute critic, writing in 1880 on the recognition of the increasing merit of Miss Anderson's performances, after a summary of what he judged were her merits and defects, used these words : " Here, in brief, is more tragic impulse than human tenderness ; more of physical strength and force of will than of spiritual intensity ; more of the ravishing opulence of youthful womanhood than of the thrilling frenzy of genius or the dominant grandeur of intellectual character. Yet, what a wealth of natural power is here ! what glorious promise ! what splendid possibilities ! " Doubtless many of the lines of limitation here suggested have been obliterated by growth and development ; but Miss Anderson does not claim to be a prodigy and will be willing to wait for those teachings of experience that have their part in rounding and perfecting all human effort. Not to have suffered is a lesson of life missed. The " glorious promise," the "splendid possibilities," remain, and there our hope shall rest.

It may be of interest to place on record Miss Anderson's present repertory : Juliet, in ' Romeo and Juliet ' ; Evadne, in ' Evadne ' ; Bianca, in ' Fazio ' ; Julia, in the ' Hunchback ' ; Parthenia, in ' Ingomar ' ; Pauline, in the ' Lady of Lyons ' ; Meg Merrilies, in * Guy Mannering ' ; Lady Macbeth, in ' Macbeth ' (sleep scene) ; the Countess, in ' Love ' ; Duchess de Torrenucra, in ' Faint Heart Never Won Fair Lady ' ; Ion, in ' Ion ' ; Galatea, in ' Pygmalion and Galatea ' ; Berthe, in ' Roland's Daughter ' ; Desdemona, in ' Othello ' ; Clarice, in ' Comedy and Tragedy ' ; Rosalind, in ' As You Like It.'

William L. Keese.

We can scarcely bring ourselves to speak of the young actress who came before the footlights last night, with the coolness of a critic and a spectator. Our interest in native genius and young endeavor, in courage and brave effort that arrives from so near us — our own city — precludes the possibility of standing outside of sympathy, and peering in with analyzing and judicial glance. But we do not think that any man of judgment who witnessed Miss Anderson's acting of Juliet, can doubt that she is a great actress. In the latter scenes she interpreted the very spirit and soul of tragedy, and thrilled the whole house into silence by the depth of her passion and her power. She is essentially a tragic genius, and began really to act only after the scene in which her nurse tells Juliet of what she supposes is her lover's death. The quick gasp, the terrified, stricken face, the tottering step, the passionate and heart-rending accents were nature's own marks of affecting overwhelming grief.

Miss Anderson has great power over the lower tones of her rich voice. Her whisper electrifies and penetrates ; her hurried words in the passion of the scene where she drinks the sleeping potion, and afterwards in the catastrophe at the end, although very far below conversational pitch, came to the ear with distinctness and with wonderful effect. In the final scene she reached the climax of her acting, which, from the time of Tybalt's death to the end, was full of tragic power that we have never seen equalled. It will be observed that we have placed the merit of this actress (in our opinion) for the most part in her deeper and more sombre powers, and despite the high praise that we more gladly offer as her due, we canio MISS MARY ANDERSON.

not be blind to her faults in the presentation of last evening. She is, undoubtedly, a great actress, and last night evidenced a magnificent genius, more especially remarkable on account of her extreme youth ; but whether she is a great Juliet is, indeed, more doubtful. We can imagine her as personating Lady Macbeth superbly, and hope soon to witness her in the part. As Juliet, her conception is almost perfect, as evinced by her rare and exceptional taste and intuitive understanding of the text. But her enactment of the earlier scenes lacks the exuberance and earnest joyfulness of the pure and glowing Flower of Italy, with all her fanciful conceits and delightful and loving ardor.

The Louisville Courier, Nov. 28, 1875.

Not long afterwards Mary Anderson's dramatic powers were submitted to the critical judgment of Miss Cushman. The great actress, then in the zenith of her fame, was residing not far distant, at Cincinnati. Accompanied by her mother, Mary presented herself at Miss Cushman's hotel. They happened to meet in the vestibule. The veteran actress took the young aspirant's hand with her accustomed vigorous grasp, to which Mary, not to be outdone, nerved herself to respond in kind ; and patting her at the same time affectionately on the cheek, invited her to read before her on an early morning. When Miss Cushman had entered her waiting carriage, Mary Anderson, with her wonted veneration for what pertained to the stage, begged that she might be allowed to be the first to sit in the chair that had been occupied for a few moments by the great actress. Miss Cushman's verdict was

MISS MARY ANDERSON. II

highly favorable. " You have," she said, " three essential requisites for the stage : voice, personality, and gesture. With a year's longer study and some training, you may venture to make an appearance before the public." Miss Cushman recommended that she should take lessons from the younger Vandenhoff, who was at the time a successful character teacher in New York. A year from that date occurred the actress's lamented death, almost on the very day of Mary Anderson's dibut.

J. M. Farrar : ' Mary Anderson : the Story of her Life,' chap. 2, pp. 13-14.

Her works are growing in symmetry — but neither in unity nor in splendor. She still [March, 1880] wins as a beauty, impresses as a prodigy, and startles as a genius. The word has not yet been spoken which is to give her soul its entire freedom, arm it with all its powers, and make the forms of art the slaves of her will. The triumph of Miss Anderson now is the triumph of an exceptional personality shrined in a beautiful person, but not yet the triumph of a consummate actress.

With a superb voice, here is a defective elocution ; with a magnificent figure, here is a self-conscious manner in the attitudes ; with a noble freedom and suppleness of physical machinery, here is a capricious gesticulation ; with a full and fine sense of opportunity for strong and shining points, here is but an incipient perception of the relative value of surrounding characters and the coordination of adjuncts ; with a brilliant faculty for stormy and vehement declamation, here, as yet, is an imperfect idea of the loveliness of quiet touches, verbal shading, and suggestive strokes ; with a vigorous, and often grand, manner of address, here is a frequent lack of concentration in listening ; with wonderful intuitions as to the wilder moods of human passion, here is a restricted sympathy with the more elemental feelings — from which naturally ensues a certain vagueness in the effect of their manifestation. Here, in brief, is more tragic impulse than human tenderness ; more of physical strength and force of will than of spiritual intensity ; more of the ravishing opulence of youthful womanhood than of the thrilling frenzy of genius or the dominant grandeur of intellectual character. Yet, what a wealth of natural power is here ! What glorious promise ! What splendid possibilities !

William Winter : The ' Stage Life of Mary Anderson/ chap, i, pp. 30-2.

Now, as to the acting. You will at once ask me how is it possible for any one to adequately represent the part of an intensely virtuous, highly respectable and honorable couple, of whom one, the wife, plays the part of the decoy, and the other, the husband, the rdle of a bully ? A virtuous and respectable Becky Sharp is a contradiction in terms ; but Miss Mary Anderson having chosen the part for herself, plays it, and assumes the responsibility of the interpretation.

She looks it to perfection, and from a certain point of view, which must be her own, or she would not have selected the piece, plays it admirably. I can imagine what Sarah Bernhardt would have done with it, but she could never have enlisted the sympathies of the audience as an honest wife ; but the actress who can enlist the sympathies of the audience by acting as a Lucretia could but imperfectly portray the seductive caresses of a Phryne. Miss Anderson sacrifices the Phryne to the Lucretia, and her consistently impossible character is entirely in keeping with the utterly artificial and purely theatrical situation. The recitation with which Clarice attempts to entertain her sprawling guests (it must have been the dullest party conceivable) has been ingeniously devised and cleverly written. It is at once the tour de force of both author and actress. Punch, London, Feb. 9, 1884.

In ' Ingomar,' Miss Anderson was instinct with force and with simplicity. She had just the delicate yet firm touch which the character in its main lines demands ; and it is a character made up for the most part of broad outlines. Yet here and there comes a passage where fine shading is wanted ; and such a passage is the rejection of the tricky Polydors suit. Then Miss Anderson was absolutely, hopelessly as it seemed, at fault. She had to reject the disgusting old man with a laugh, and the impression produced was that the actress had learned a laugh, — not the laugh necessary for the circumstances and situation, but simply a laugh, — and that she reproduced this echo of an abstract laugh with an accuracy which made its sound all the more incongruous and insincere. Also, — but this is a fault of a different kind, — the diction was frequently very indistinct. Yet, with all faults admitted, the acting was full both of promise and of performance, and of broad conviction that Miss Anderson had won the admiration of American audiences by something more than beauty and grace alone.

So, again, in the 'Lady of Lyons,' an eminently artificial piece, with an eminently artificial heroine's part, Miss Anderson was graceful, statuesque, intelligent, or more than intelligent and charming. But there was, so far, nothing to show whether she had a claim to be considered as an actress in the true sense of the word. If her power of impersonation seemed faulty, or even altogether wanting, why, that might be the fault of the plays rather than of the player.

Then Miss Anderson appeared as the vivified statue in Mr. Gilbert's ' Pygmalion and Galatea,' — one of the very vulgarest and commonest plays ever written by an author of cleverness ; and in this she set herself a hard task. The result of the experiment is the spectacle of a lady, gifted with singular grace and earnestness, delivering lines which are anything rather than graceful with a manner so opposed to the whole notion of the piece that the effect is indescribably odd. It is as if a pretty and harmless tenor were suddenly to attempt some swaggering baritone, without a perception of the swaggering element. This is, however, a merely general impression. Going into particulars, I find that wherever Mr. Gilbert has been unable or uncareful to coarsen the beautiful legend, and wherever trusting to a fine and simple perception of the legend's poetry is enough for the acting's needs, there Miss Anderson is charming, and singularly charming. Such a moment is the first awakening of the statue, which could hardly be bettered in voice, manner, or look. But when the complex emotions come into play, then, even when one makes fullest allowance for the

MARY ANDERSON

As Galatea in " Pygmalion and Galatea.'

MISS MARV ANDERSON". 15

common and stupid inconsistencies attributed by Mr. Gilbert to the statue, and for an actress's difficulty in glossing over their stupidity, I think Miss Anderson fails for want of perception, and for want of " instruction " in the French, rather than the English, sense of the word. Here she underplays and there she overplays her difficult part. . . . The very first scene and the very last are, to my thinking, out of eight, the best, so far as Miss Anderson is concerned. But the fact remains that when all its faults are counted up, the performance has charm and, I think, talent which might become very remarkable if its possessor were not in great danger of being spoilt by unthinking applause.

Walter Herries Pollock, in the Century Magazine, June, 1884.

Miss Anderson's Rosalind deserves much praise. She looked and did her best. In appearance she nearly realized Lodge's glowing description of his Rosalynde : " All in general applauded the admirable riches that Nature bestowed on her face." When she was disguised in buff jerkin and hose as Ganymede, it was impossible to do other than commend Phoebe's fickleness. Miss Anderson's faults are well-known, and many of them were still present. Her pathos in the early scenes sounded artificial. The proud scorn with which she replied to Duke Frederick's accusation of treason was the only speech in the first act which she delivered with any approach to real feeling. In the forest scenes she appeared to far better advantage. In her interviews with Orlando she proved herself in sympathy with the spirit of the comedy : full of youthful vivacity, she kept well within the limits of womanly reserve. She bantered Phoebe with the crudest ease, but her manner as the mocking censor of the rustic coquette was quite free from the touches of anxiety which she sought — often successfully — to impart to her raillery of her lover. Miss Anderson delivered the epilogue with great naturalness and spirit, and dismissed her audience in the best of humors.

Sidney L. Lee, in the Academy, London, Sept. 5, 1885.

It is not three years since Miss Mary Anderson first came among us, a young American girl, heralded only by undeniable evidence (the sun being witness) of her striking beauty, and conflicting rumors as to her talent. She is now returning to her native land an artistic and social notability of the first magnitude. Her success is all the more remarkable — certainly all the more creditable — in that it has been gained entirely by her own unaided efforts in the art she professes. She had no social notoriety to launch her on her career, nor did she take any pains to acquire it. She shunned rather than courted personal publicity. She did not ride on fire-engines or sleep in coffins. Scandal, even in this malevolent world, held aloof from her, and if silly gossip now and then gave her " the puff oblique," it was without her connivance and to her no small discomfort. It may even be said that she was deliberately and injudiciously contemptuous of all personal means of propitiation. To some people, unable to dissociate the two ideas of " dramatic artist " and " eccentric bohemian," her attitude appeared unwarrantably repellent, and she suffered in more ways than one from a certain unapproachableness which was construed as the feminine form of that foible which in the stronger sex we call priggishness. Even criticism was not unaffected by this feeling, and she was treated, I do not say with injustice, but certainly with scant cordiality. She has won the public with little help from the press, and that, in these days,

is of itself a remarkable achievement

Let us pass, then, to Miss Anderson's latest and most interesting effort — her Rosalind. The critics who criticise before the event were full of doubts as to her capacity for comedy. Juliet's scene with the Nurse should have banished any such doubt. It proved Miss Anderson's possession of a fund of delicate playfulness which could not but stand her in good stead in the part of the sprightly Ganymede. This quality was, indeed, apparent throughout ; but, as Lady Martin remarks, it is a " strange perversion " to suppose that Rosalind can be adequately performed by actresses " whose strength lies only in comedy." There is in her a " deep womanly tenderness," and an "intellect disciplined by fine culture," which must be made apparent through all her sportive vivacity. In the " deep womanly tenderness " Miss Anderson was, perhaps, a little lacking. Her Rosalind was girlish rather than womanly, but it was so brightly, frankly, healthily girlish that to have quarrelled with it would have been sheer captiousness. In the opening scenes (it must be remembered that I speak of her first performance of the part, a most trying occasion) she had not altogether warmed to her work, though even here she was intelligent and charming. Her speech to the

Duke, culminating in the line, " What's that to me ? My father was no, traitor ! " showed traces of her early and unpolished manner. It lacked nobility and loftiness. Its indignation was too loud. It was invective rather than self-restrained and scathing sarcasm. Not till she appeared in the first forest scene was Miss Anderson's success assured, but then a very few speeches placed it beyond question. Her appearance was ideal. No actress whom I have seen in Rosalind, or indeed in any " doublet and hose " part, wears these trying garments with anything like the ease, grace and perfect good taste displayed by Miss Anderson. In most Rosalinds the woman obtrudes herself upon the physical as well as the mental eye. We cannot get rid of the feeling that Orlando- must inevitably see through this masquerade from the very first. In Miss Anderson's case we meet with no such stumblingblock. A cleverly-designed costume, modest without prudery, combined with her lithe, well-knit and in no way redundant figure to make her a perfect embodiment of the " saucy lackey." Her beauty, which is essentially feminine, was the only circumstance which need have made Orlando suspect the woman in her, if (to oblige Shakspere) we suppose it possible that he should fail to recognize her as the identical Rosalind of the wrestling-match. Her claret-colored mantle, exquisitely handled, gave her the means for much significant by-play through which she prevented the audience from forgetting her sex, without in any way suggesting it to Orlando. Its tastefulness was perhaps the great charm of her Rosalind.

William Archer, in the Theatre, October, 1885.

MR. AND MRS. BANCROFT.

(Miss Marie Wilton.)

Dramatic flowers they gathered by the way, And chose the brightest wheresoe'er it grows ;

Never disdaining to contrast in play, French tiger-lily with the English rose.

With kindly Robertson they formed a ' School,' Rejoiced in ' Play ' after long anxious hours ;

* Caste ' was for them, and theirs, a golden rule, And thus by principle we made them ' Ours.'

Clement Scott.

MR. AND MRS. BANCROFT.

Marie Effie Wilton, known since her marriage as Mrs. Bancroft, was born at Doncaster about 1840. Her father and mother were both on the stage, and when little more than an infant she used to recite in public. After playing children's parts on the Norwich circuit, she was engaged with her parents, at the Theatre Royal, Manchester, then managed by H. J. Wallack, where she appeared, Oct. 5, 1846, as Fleance in ' Macbeth.' She remained for some years in Manchester, playing, among other parts, GoneriVs page in ' King Lear,' Mamilius in the ' Winter's Tale,' the Emperor of Lilliput in a pantomime of 1 Gulliver,' Hymen in ' As You Like It,' and Arthur in ' King John,' — a part in which Charles Kemble saw and admired her. From Manchester, she passed, while yet a child, to the Bristol and Bath circuit, and did not make her first appearance in London until Sept. 15, 1856, when she played the boy Henri to Mr. Charles Dillon's Belphegor, at the Lyceum, and on the same evening created the title-part in W. Brough's burlesque ' Perdita ; or the Royal Milkmaid.'* Her success was immediate, and she was soon in great request.