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 SAN 
 
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 No. 6 
 
 Gallery 
 
 OF 
 
 Players 
 
 FROM 
 
 The Illustrated American 
 
 (With 22 full-page pictures and over loo portraits in character.; 
 
 Edited by 
 
 MARWELL HALL 
 
 CnpvRic.HT, iSt)s, i)v L()RILLAR1) SPF.NCER, 401-40^ Hast Twi nty-thirp Strhft, New York
 
 CONTEXTS 
 
 lACK. 
 
 
 PAGE.. 
 
 - 4 
 
 Burr McIntosh, 
 
 26. 
 
 6 
 
 Kathrvn Kidder, 
 
 - 2S 
 
 - S 
 
 William Faversham, 
 
 30. 
 
 lO 
 
 Virginia Harned, 
 
 - 32- 
 
 - 12 
 
 Ji-'iiN Maloxe, 
 
 34- 
 
 M 
 
 May Irwin, 
 
 - 36- 
 
 - i6 
 
 J. H. Barnes, 
 
 38 
 
 iS 
 
 Mathilde Cottrellv, 
 
 - 40- 
 
 - 20 
 
 Harry Woodruff, 
 
 42: 
 
 22 
 
 Rosa Sucher, - 
 
 - 44 
 
 - 24 
 
 Max Alvary, 
 
 46. 
 
 Adelaide Nkii.son, 
 h. j. mo.ntagie, - 
 Bessie Tyree, 
 John Le Moyne, 
 Mrs. Gilbert, - 
 Wilton Lackaye, 
 Marie Burroughs, 
 E. M. Holland, - 
 Annie Myers, 
 W. J. Ferguson, - 
 Kate Claxton, 
 
 The publisher begs to acknowledge his appreciation of tlie e.xcellent? 
 work of the following photographers, whose cameras have contributed to. 
 the success of this volume : 
 
 Falk, New York. 
 Sarony, Xew York. 
 Schloss, New York. 
 Prince, Xew York. 
 Rockwood, Xew York. 
 Kurtz, Xew York. 
 Pach, New York. 
 
 Baker, Columbus, O. 
 Morrison, Chicago, IlL 
 Barraud, London, England. 
 Mendelssohn, London, England.. 
 Thors, San Francisco, Cal. 
 Phillips, Philadelphia, Pa. 
 Chickering, Boston, Mass. 
 
 .\ll photographs in the Gallery of Pl.\yers can be secured. at Charles^ 
 Ritzmann's, 945 Broadway, Xew York.
 
 I^UBLISHHRS NUTH. 
 
 ON issuing llic ihiiil miiiilxT of ihc G.u.LKKV ok I'lavkrs the publisher 
 lakes llic opportunity of tliaiikiujj tlie public for the liberal wav in 
 which it has patronized its predecessors. 
 Mr. Charles Kdc. Nirdlingcr, who edited the preceding number, was unable to 
 undertake this one and the services of Mr. Marwell Hall were engaged. "I have 
 broken the rule laid down by the gentlemen who edited the two preceding num- 
 bers of the (;.M.l.Ki;V III' I'l.AVKU.s. " he writes, "in that 1 have entered to a certain 
 e.Ktent into biographical details. My impression is that playgoers wish to know 
 something about the lives of their stage favorites. Lord X'erulam has it that ' the 
 authority of the many doth contravene the disdain of the few. ' .\s he was a very 
 wise man I have generally tried to obey his rule in my short criticisms; but in a 
 few cases where I have thought the minority had a right to protest against • the 
 authority of the many,' I have given them a hearing." 
 
 I.iikll I AKll Si'K.NCER. 
 
 Office of'VHV. Ii.i.lsi KA rKi) .A.mkrican.
 
 
 ^,;^(V^^^ \^ 
 
 % ■^-■'. * 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 SIBYL 
 SANDERSON. 
 
 w 
 
 ^'*K 
 
 r 
 
 HEX in 1889 Miss Sibyl 
 
 Sanderson made her debut at the Opera Comique in Massenet's 
 " Esclarmonde," she was scarcely known in Paris. Even in the 
 American colony comparatively few persons had met her. It was 
 rumored among artists that Massenet had written an opera for a 
 (air Californian who was being trained by the master to play the title 
 part, and that he was wont to go into raptures over her wonderful 
 voice and promise as an actress. And some had seen Massenet 
 dining at a restaurant m the Rue Daunou with an American girl accom- 
 panied by a lady who, judging from the likeness of the two, was prob- 
 - -' ably her mother. Then came her debut, and all Paris was talking about 
 
 " la belle Sanderson" and the extraordinary range of her voice. " Esclar- 
 monde " ran for one hundred nights, and on the occasion of its hundredth performance 
 Massenet wrote to a friend in this country that the success of his work "is due to the 
 unique, incomparable artist who has created the role. I owe it to an American, to Miss 
 Sibyl Sanderson, of San Francisco. The girl has an extraordinary voice (from the G 
 below the treble clef to the G in the fourth line above), and it is not only the compass 
 which is extraordinary, but the art of singing, the originality and the dramatic effect." 
 Critics differ as to the beauty of that G in alt. It is known among the Parisians as the 
 "Eiffel Tower note." In addition to this great compass of voice Miss Sanderson is a 
 rata az'is in opera — she is a finished actress, the only American woman singer of the 
 first order on the stage to-day who can be called so, and one of the very few of all 
 '..?• nations. At the present moment we can think of none other save Calve and one or two 
 of the Wagnerian singers. Her Juliette is conceded to be far superior to that of any 
 '•-T- "■ of the artists who have played Shakespeare's heroine to the accompaniment of Gou- 
 nod's music and her performance of this part placed her before the eyes of the world 
 among the great artists of the day. But sometime before this she had become the most popular 
 singer in Fans. She had become a public character, not in the world of fashion, where she is 
 comparatively unknown, but among the people who enjoy music for music's sake and do not go 
 to an opera house to gossip or to see what their neighbors wear. Very beautiful to look at ; with 
 a voice that was phenomenal; a dramatic force that, as we have already said, was possessed 
 by few on the operatic stage; known to be one of the best dressed women in Paris and with a 
 reputation for generosity to her less successful brother and sister artists, the pi'/i/ bourgeois wor- 
 shipped "la Sanderson." But of course her success produced jealousies. It was in the early part of this 
 year that she made her debut at the Opera House in Paris — the Academic Nationale de Musique. Massenet 
 had written for her the title role in " Thais." The press unanimously condemned the piece, but could not help 
 praising the American artist and she drew crowded houses. Persons who were envious of her success and had predicted her voice 
 could not till Garnier's great auditorium, now consoled themselves with the belief that when she tried one of the standard grand operas 
 she would prove a failure. But their hopes were dashed to the ground when last June she appeared as Juliette — a part she had 
 already sung at Brussels and Nice. Unwillingly they had to confess that she had proved herself an artist of the very first rank. It 
 was this success — a success that not one of the Paris critics denied — which led to Miss Sanderson's engagement to sing opera in this 
 country the coming season. 
 
 Miss Sanderson was born in Sacramento, Cal. Her father, the late Judge S. W. Sanderson, was Chief Justice of the State Su- 
 preme Court. She joined the Conservatoire, in Paris, ten years ago, and it was there Massenet "discovered" her.
 
 
 n^^O 
 
 THi )SE who saw Charles Coghlan act in comedy when he was in his 
 prime know tliat there was no more finished player on the English- 
 speaking stage. He had received his dramatic education in a 
 school which is denied to the young actors of the present day. There was no 
 better training ground for the mummer forty years ago than the old King Street 
 Theatre, at Bristol, England. The work was very hard, the discipline was equally 
 severe ; but it turned out Kate Terry (Mrs. Lewis), Ellen Terrv, her sister, Madge 
 Robertson (Mrs. Kendall, Marie Wilton (Mrs. Bancroft) and Charles Coghlan to win 
 their laurels in London. For in those days the theatre public knew that even the 
 greatest actors did not spring .Athene-like fully equipped for the stage. It would not 
 stand crude amateurs posing as professionals. And the result of this severe training 
 is that when Charles Coghlan was behind the footlights he never appeared to be acting. 
 He was so easy, so natural. .Many there were who did not recognize that his acting 
 was not mere nature, but art ; for there are many who imagine that it is as easy to 
 take a seat on the stage as it is in a parlor. Sardou was asked by an American 
 actress what was the most difficult thing in acting. "To sit down," he replied. And 
 the next? " To get up again," was the answer. And Charles Coghlan gave to the 
 most simple action of everyday life npon the stage an appearance of spontaneity and 
 naturalness which no actor of his day could equal. But in addition to his art he had 
 a hue stage presence and a rich voice to help him. 
 
 Wlien the late Harry Montague left the Prince of Wales's Theatre, Charles Coghlan 
 
 took his place. It was there that all liobertson's plays were first produced, and its 
 
 company occupied a unique position in London. None of its members attempted 
 
 \ to eclipse his fellows, to monopolize the space on the boards or the attention of 
 
 ^^ the audience. No piece was ever presented there that had not been thoroughly 
 
 prepared, and there was no slovenliness even in the least important accessories 
 
 of the play. It was an e.xcellent finishing school for Coghlan and he soon 
 
 shared with that most delightful of stage lovers, Harry Montague, the name 
 
 of being the best yVz/z/e' premier on the English stage. In 1872 he played 
 
 the part of Alfred Evelyn in a grand reproduction of "Money," at the 
 
 first performance of which the venerable author was present. Charles 
 
 Coghlan made a great hit and his fine performance distinctly advanced his 
 
 reputation. The following year the same company produced "The School 
 
 for Scandal," and Coghlan's Charles Surface was as near perfection as it 
 
 could be. But alas! when it came to his playing .Shylock to Ellen Terry's 
 
 Portia, we have a very different tale to tell. He had overreached himself. He 
 
 deliberately avoided not only traditional points, but all points whatever. Where 
 
 emphasis was naturally suggested, it seemed that he purpo.sely shunned it. 
 
 ^ f i "^ M ¥ ■ '" ''»'"• '^°''''"^'^y hs h'ld often held his forces in reserve with great effect. 
 
 U0^ /, , 8 ' ' \ Here -he did it to such bad purpose that his performance nearly ruined the 
 
 ^ — '-^ '7x ■' ' -/ Bancrofts, the owners of the theatre. Soon after Mr. Coghlan severed his 
 
 connection with the Bancrofts and came to try his fortunes in this country. 
 
 whither his sister Rose had preceded him. When he returned to England 
 
 he found the Bancrofts had taken the Haymarket and there he appeared 
 
 as Loris Iffanoff in "Fedora." He has since then spent much of his 
 
 life in this country, where he was for some time received with much 
 
 favor, but of late years he appears to have lost the public esteem. He 
 
 never played better than in " Diplomacy" — many finding his Henry Beauclerc 
 
 superior to that of the late Lester Wallack — when his sister played the Countess Zicka, 
 
 at Palmer's Theatre, New York, a couple of years ago. Mr. Coghlan, besides being 
 
 an actor, is a playwright of more than ordinary talent. Many years ago he made an excellent adaptation of " La Morte Civile," in 
 
 which he played Salvini's part, and he also wrote •■ Lady Barter," in which he has acted with Mrs. Langtry and Miss Rose Coghlan. 
 
 .-=:&i- 
 
 -6-
 
 barged with 
 
 % 
 1 
 
 M 
 
 ^- 
 
 H: 
 
 lowing account of Miss 
 Delia Fox appeared in Thk 
 Illustrated American' of 
 September 5, 1891. As I wrote it myself I canm 
 giarism if I reproduce it in these pages : 
 
 •■ Miss Fox made her debut in this wicked world of ours not twenty 
 years ago, and St. Louis was the city selected for the scene of her first 
 triumph. She was a wee little toddler when her parents gave her an 
 opportunity of growing into a stage-struck girl by allowing her to 
 appear on the amateur stage as the midshipmite in Gilbert and Sul- 
 livan's 'pinafore,' her fellow performers being prmcipally taken 
 from the church choirs of St. Louis. The glare of the footlights. 
 1, . the charm of being a kind of public character, the cheers that 
 the little midshipmite in 'Pinafore' always does get as he 
 paces up and down the hurricane deck of Her Majesty's ship — 
 these helped to turn the child's head, and much to the hor- 
 ror of her parents, she determined to become an actress. 
 Small though she was, she was bright and clever and 
 often got an opportunity to appear in some play with 
 amateurs. From time to time she would manage to 
 ■ wheedle her parents into letting her play a child's role 
 with some professional troupe. When only nine years 
 '~^''*. ^^^K ^'P^ ■^ %.'^ \ old Delia Fox played for a week in St. Louis with James 
 
 liff^ .^^^^B V^ '^"''ft ^1^ /^^ ^ O'Neill in 'A Celebrated Case.' She became more de- 
 
 ''«vj'--\_i termined than e\er to go on the stage. But little girls are not 
 
 ; always allowed to choose for themselves — even in the United 
 
 States, that paradise of the small child. Mi.ss Fox's parents held a 
 council of war. It was decided that it was high time that their daughter's 
 mania for the stage should be checked. A verdict was rendered that the 
 child should be packed off to a boarding school. The weeping Delia vainly 
 •remonstrated. Her tears and the stamping of her little foot proved of no 
 avail and to school she went. There, in the company of a number of 
 bread and butter misses, she inked her chubby fingers, poked them 
 into her eyes, strummed through her piano exercises, solved the myster- 
 ies of the multiplication table and learned a certain amount of French 
 ■of Stratford-atte-Bowe.' It was harsh treatment on the part of her 
 ,, parents, she thought, thus suddenly to close the brilliant career she saw 
 before her, and often would she relate to her wondering fellow pupils 
 tales of her former triumphs. Being a dutiful daughter, she did 
 manage to get through a certain amount of the daily task set for 
 her, but she continued to dream of the stage, and she had only 
 been at school a very few years when she closed her desk, 
 threw aside her books and was once more treading the boards. 
 This time she got an engagement with Miss Marie Prescott 
 and travelled with that lady's companv for five weeks, playing minor parts. It was rather uphill work and poor pay at first, for Miss 
 Delia found, like many another beginner, that opportunities for greatness are not always at hand." Later she joined DeWolf Hop- 
 per's forces and caught the town as Mataya in " Wang." She has sinc^ been raised to the position of a star in the theatrical firma- 
 ment. Whether she will prove a shooting star or not remains to be seen.
 
 Hv 7m'AV*'*Vtj _
 
 
 HENRY 
 
 DIXEY 
 
 1 IE greatest curse that ever befell 
 Henry E. Dixey, so far as his 
 dramatic career is concerned, 
 was tlie unparalleled success he had 
 in that " perversion of common sense," 
 Adonis." Since he has joined Mr. Daly's company 
 he has shown he is made of sterner stuff than most burlesque ac- 
 tors. Meanwhile he has wasted his talents for ten years upon one 
 farrago of nonsense after another. That he will ever be a good 
 comedian is hardly probable. If he does he will be an e.xception 
 wliich tests the rule that good mimics never make first-class actors. 
 Uiit, as Adonis, he was inimitable. Good-looking, a wonderfully 
 gr.icefnl dancer and full of dry humor, he kept his audiences in fits of 
 l.iiighter for years. He supplied the deficiencies of tlie piece and kept it 
 on tlie stage for over a thousand nights. He certainly did not obey the 
 directions given to players through the mouth of Hamlet by that poor ac- 
 , the late Mr. Shakespeare : " Let those that play your clowns speak no 
 more than is set down for them." Had he done sc the public would have 
 taken a very early farewell of "Adonis." Di.\ey felt it was his special mis- 
 sion to jirovoke laughter; to do so he trusted not to the author of the play, 
 but to his own resouices, h.is natural fountains of humor and to his extem- 
 poraneous wit. There was a famous physician — long since dead — whose 
 'avorite prescription for dyspeptic patients was that they should go to the 
 iheatre and laugh heartily. If dyspepsia is really to be cured by imbibing 
 draughts of merriment, then "Adonis" Dixey was or many years a great 
 improvement on pepsine cV /V/. 
 was originally produced in Chicago and was first played in New York 
 Opera House on the night of September 4, 1884. The great hit made by 
 jrned him at once into a personage of national importance and the idol of the 
 public. His comings in and .goings out were duly noted ; his ideas upon 
 every kind of subject, whether he knew anything or not, were widely chronicled ; he 
 was even interviewed upon art, and that archangel of literary purism, Mr. William 
 Dean Howells, invited him to write an article for his magazine. His opinions of 
 .\merican statesmen were quoted, and had his popularity not waned by then he would 
 have doubtless given the .Senate some good advice about the tariff bill last session. 
 His twenty-seventh birthday and the five hundredth performance of "Adonis" were 
 celebrated in New York, on January 7, 1886, by a ball at the Metropolitan Opera 
 House which was largely attended. In the spring o( the following year, when he was 
 on the point of starting for England, a banquet was given to him at Delmonico's, and 
 there was as much excitement on the wharf when he sailed as if he had been John L. 
 Sullivan. His arrival in London was celebrated by another banquet which was at- 
 tended by the American Minister, and Americans were almost as much interested in 
 what Dixey was doing across the water as in the engagement of president Cleveland, 
 which had just been announced. But London, though it admired Dixey, did not care 
 for " Adonis," which it called a " harlequinade of pantomime minus wit." However, 
 another banquet, at which the late Carter Harrison presided, celebrated the one thou- 
 sandth performance of the piece. In 18S9 Di.xey appeared at the Standard (New 
 York) in "The Seven Ages." In the last age he rose above the level of caricature 
 and gave an admirable sketch of a jollv, genial old grandfather. In 1890 he appeared in '■ Rip." ISut "Adonis" Dixey was no more. 
 New favorites had arisen, and when lately he has appeared in his former success, Dixey has failed to draw. The American theatre- 
 going public is not a loyal one — almost as fickle as the Paris public. But Mr. Dixey has boldly put his shoulder to the wheel in a 
 higher plane of acting than he has hitherto attempted. He has so far done well. With hard work he may yet regain his hold on our 
 playgoers and we sincerely trust he mav.
 
 ■-5«^ 
 
 (Kniinii )ihi>li»^riit>)t I»y Siiroiiy, New \'i»rk )
 
 \^U 
 
 r^ . 
 
 ^&:^ 
 
 
 A 
 
 y 
 
 / 
 
 LOTTA. 
 
 T was in the iate fifties that a little girl of about eleven years of age 
 danced and sang herself into the hearts of the ••forty-niners" at 
 San Francisco. Her father, bitten by the gold fever, had migrated 
 from New York to the Pacific and was engaged in hunting for the yel- 
 low metal, and his tiny daughter became the pet of his brother miners. 
 Whenever she appeared at Gilbert's Melodeon, gold instead of bou- 
 quets was thrown to her, and often she would pick up from the stage 
 a thousand dollars' worth of dust and small nuggets. Such was the 
 commencement of Miss Lotta Crabtree's most honorable career on the 
 stage — a career that has been closed — temporarily, we hope — by severe 
 sickness. Lotta was sui\(^i-!!ei'ts. She created a style of acting which has 
 since been frequently imitated, but never equalled. A vivacious Jittle 
 creature full of ine.xhaustible ebullitions of animal spirits and droll char- 
 acter — no one else — at any rate on the American stage — has ever 
 been able to play the pranks to \vhi('h this little lady gave free rein 
 without falling mto coarseness. There was a roguishness of innocent 
 childhood about her which was perhaps the most winning quality of 
 her acting. _ Her imitators have tried, and we think in vain, to as- 
 sume her childlike innocence on the stage, but have only managed 
 to don a very thin veneer. The innocence of the child degenerates 
 into the archness of the coco/if. Whereas with Lotta the rogu- 
 ery always appeared .-spontaneous, with her imitators it 
 seems to have been well thought over and carried out with 
 the aid of .--tage trickery. When Lotta appeared at her best 
 she made the audience forget the stage and its accessories. 
 It was not in pathetic parts that she was at her best. Take, for 
 instance, the two roles she played in "The Old Curiosity Shop." 
 Little Nell and The Marchioness. As the first she was a charmingly 
 pretty child, but artificial and ineffective; but as Dick Swiveller's card 
 opponent she was eccentric, droll, mischievous, sometimes touching and 
 invariably characteristic. She could not express pathos. She was out of 
 place in deatn scenes, but as the sharp-witted, half-starved maid of all work she 
 showed with subtle skill the gradual change from a state of physical depletion to 
 a state of good health and comeliness. One of her cleverest performances was 
 in the play " Mam'zelle Nitouche, " in which she assumed three parts. It was 
 not as artistic a performance as Madame Judic had given in the same piece, but 
 it was full of sprightliness and never flagged. .More farcical than subtle. Lotta 
 threw herself into the frolic with such relish and abandonment, her glee was so 
 superabundant, her agility so impish, that should she ever appear again on our 
 stage Nitouche will be one of her leading parts. 
 
 Lotta's career on the American stage has been a most successful one. The 
 
 one bitter disappointment of her life as an artiste was her failure in London. 
 
 This was principally caused by the injudicious way in which her first appearance 
 
 had been heralded. She was announced as " the representative American comedienne" 
 
 and as the "dramatic cocktail," and the British public was told of her virtues, her wealth 
 
 and dazzling talents; how her coming would be a sort of revelation to London, which had never 
 
 seen anvthing so great from America before. Then she appeared as Musette, the worst part in 
 
 fier repertoire, and the result was a. fiasco. The critics appreciated her talent, though they damned the 
 
 play she appeared in. The London "gods" are very outspoken when they don't like a play or a player; 
 
 Musette was hissed and the company guyed. It soon returned to its native heath. Lotta was born in New York, on November 7, 
 
 1847. She returned from California in 1863 and made her first appearance in the East at Niblo's (iarden. New York. Her first 
 
 great success was made in the " Fire Fly," in the same year, at the Star (then Wallack'sj Theatre.
 
 (l-nmi :i phulDKrapli by Snrnnv, New York.)
 
 ' ^^^2^W'MrO^M^ 
 
 
 ■^^^0 
 
 MR. ROliEKT i;. .MAXTKLL is to-day one oi 
 the most graceful ami refined of actors on tlie 
 American stage. This he has only become 
 by dint of hard work. He has great natural advan- 
 tages. He is so well proportioned that one does not realize that he is over 
 si.\ feet in height: he has a remarkably handsome face ^nd a good voice. 
 Hut when he first appeared among us he was rather awkward in action and 
 ungraceful in deportment. That was in 1874, when he appeared in the 
 company of Madame .Modjeska. He had made an attempt four years be- 
 fore to get an engagement at the ISoston Museum, but had failed and returned to 
 England. 
 
 About five years have passed smce his appearance here. Sardou's "Fedora" is 
 
 being produced for the first time in this country, at the Fourteenth Street Theatre, 
 
 New York. In the middle of the third act Loris Ipanoff enters and recites to the 
 
 assembled guests how he had killed Fedora's betrothed. \"ladiniir. with his own 
 
 hand. It is a great scene and one that would be wholly spoiled by a false step. 
 
 But on this occasion the actor was .so noble of bearing and so refined in demeanor ; 
 
 told the story of how the treacherous Vladimir had fallen by his hand with so 
 
 much realism and such an intense passion, which was never torn into tatters, that 
 
 the audience was electrified. Such a spectacle had never been seen before 
 
 in a New York playhouse. From the stalls to the gallery arose screams, sobs 
 
 and hysterical laughter. .And the young actor who was the cause of all this 
 
 unwonted excitement was Robert B. .Mantell. 
 
 During the years that had elap.sed between his New York triumph and his 
 first appearance with Mnie. Modjeska, Mr Mantell had gained great ex- 
 perience on the stage in the L'mted Kingdom. Scotland is his native 
 lieath, and he was born at Irvine, Ayrshire, on February 7, 1S54. His 
 father, however, had come from across the border, but his mother was 
 a Scotchwoman. \Vhen he was a child his family moved to Belfast, and 
 there soon after he left school he made his first appearance on the amateur 
 stage as De Mauprat in "Richelieu." He had been stage-struck while 
 he was yet a schoolboy, much to the detriment of his classical studies, 
 which he neglected in favor of plays. His success as an amateur soon led 
 to his adopting the stage as a profession, which did not please his God- 
 fearing, church-going parents; and he appeared as a professional in 1874 un- 
 der the name of Hudson. When he returned from Boston he played for four 
 \ears through the English provinces with various theatrical companies, thereby 
 ^, gaining invaluable stage experience. .-Vfter his engagement with Mnie. Mod- 
 ^ jeska was concluded he played for a year and a half as Dicky Freely to the Otto 
 of the late George S. Knight. In "Forbidden Fruit" he played Cato Dore to 
 ivnight's Buster. 
 
 Once mure we find him in the English provinces playing tragedy, comedy and 
 nielodrama. For some time he was leading man to Miss Wallis, who was in those 
 (lays a great favorite in legitimate parts in the provinces. With her he played 
 Romeo — and a very charming Romeo he made — Macbeth, Charles Surface, Bene- 
 dick, lago, Othello, Young .Marlowe, and it is said even tried his hand at Richard III. He was about twenty-.seven years old when 
 his engagement with Miss Wallis came to an end. Few if any actors of his age could boast of such an extensive repertoire as he. 
 Then he supported Marie de Grey, a very beautiful woman but a very wretched actress, as Leicester in " Kenihvorth." 
 
 Miss Fanny Davenport brought him back to this country to play Ipanoff. When his performance became the talk of the town 
 that lady determined to engage another leading man. She did so and he played the part well ; but nobody could do it as Robert 
 .Mantell had and the public refused to go and see " Fedora." So .Mantell once more thrilled his audiences as Loris. 
 
 -14-
 
 t^KK 
 
 (Kruin a |>liuto|;raph l>y Saroiiy, New Vork.)
 
 ^rrr:^rr^^ 
 
 S 
 
 H 
 
 ISABEL IRVING. 
 
 I )\\" our ancestors would stare could they but rise 
 from their graves and see the social position now 
 occupied by the nineteenth century representatives 
 of those whom they used to class with " vagrom-men. " How much more would 
 such of them as lived in the Elizabethan age — for all of us must have had ancestors 
 Hving at that period, though we may not know their names — be astonished did they 
 learn that every year the stage is becoming a more popular means of livelihood 
 among young women of gentle birth and relined education. Astonished they well 
 might be considering that in their day women's parts were always taken by young 
 men or boys. Most of us have heard how Charles II. -of England became impa- 
 tient one night at theatre to have the play begin, and Davenant — Shakespeare's 
 reputed son — explained the delay by saying, " Sire, they are shaving the Queen." 
 It was not until the latter part of the seventeenth century that a W'oman — a certain 
 Mrs. Betterton — playetl for hire on the English stage. Attires joins aiitrcs imvitrs. 
 Even within the last twenty years a great change has taken place in this respect. 
 Whereas a quarter of a century ago the adoption of the stage by a young woman 
 of birth and breeding would have made a sensation and been published to the world 
 by the newspapers with startling headlines, nowadays such an event is oftentimes 
 not chronicled at all, and if it is, has not more than a "stick" devoted to it. But 
 in these latter days our female population has grown to be enormous and we have 
 emancipated ourselves to a great extent from conventional trammels, so that there 
 is a wider range of employment for women of intelligence and independence. Most 
 parents are reluctant to see their children adopt the profession of the stage, but the 
 fact remains that a considerable number of well-born and well-educated girls have 
 become actresses during the last few years, both in this country and in England. 
 The fashion does not appear to have reached any other countries. There is no 
 reason why it should not be so. Why should the stage, which demands more spe- 
 cial qualifications than many of the occupations now being adopted by emancipated 
 woman, be shut to those who possess characters and capacities to fit them for the 
 career ? The question has been asked. Why should its perils be necessarily more 
 imminent than those which attend the life school and the Bohemian intercourse of 
 artist life ? And the answer given is. The female doctor, the hospital nurse, the 
 district visitor — there is no calling to which admirable women devote themselves, 
 and which philanthropy commends, that is not e.xposed to misapprehension and 
 danger. Their safeguard lies in the strong shield of purity and truth and devotion 
 to their cause, which wards ofT the shafts that would assail them. And so it has 
 been, so it may be, on the stage. .An actress devoted heart and soul to Iter cause, 
 a girl with a high standard of right, electing the clean and noble walks and not 
 the filthy alleys of theatrical life, can keep herself as unsullied from the mud as in 
 any other position. But the worst of this change of sentiment with regard to 
 the stage is that it has introduced on our boards a number of young women 
 who possess no particle of divine instinct and inspiration, as Tully says, and 
 s,^^™™^, ^- -:»,^^ ■- will never be anything but mere sticks behind the footlights. An exception, 
 
 ^1^^^^ , i*^!**^' however, must be made in the case of Miss Isabel Irving. Born and bred in 
 
 ^I'^^ ^JUBBSy^ ^-^.t" X Bridgeport, Conn., she spent her young days amid refined surroundings. When .she 
 
 of J , 1^ _'-^«-> "ji'ja reached years of discretion she made up her mind to go on the stage. She had had no experi- 
 
 ence whatever, but she had heard of the kindly heart of the late Rosina \'okes and to her she 
 applird for an opening. Mrs. Clay was much taken with the tall, fair-haired, handsome girl and presently 
 engaged her as an understudy. In January, 1SS7, the lady who was playing the role of Gwendolin 
 Hawkins in " The Schoolmistress " was unable to appear and at twelve hours' notice Miss Irving played 
 the part, and so much to Mrs. Clay's liking that she remained in the company for a year. In November, 1888. she joined Augustin 
 Daly's company and played Failh in ••The Last Word," Audrey in "As Vou Like It," Maria in ••The School for Scandal," Susan 
 in "A Night Off," Oberon in ".-X Midsummer Night's Dream" and Helen in '•The Hunchback." She is at present under the man- 
 agement of Mr. Frohman. .Miss Irving has a future before her. .She is very fair to look upon, and she is intelligent.
 
 ^v 
 
 JAMES LEWIS. 
 
 although we 
 lives — maybe 
 It is because 
 
 'i!)UNG and old, we all call him "Jimmy, 
 may have never spoken to him in our 
 have never even seen him off the stage, 
 when he is playing he appears to treat each member of the 
 audience as an acquaintance, that before the piece is over we 
 end by imagining that we know him intimately. The buoy- 
 ancy of his spirits is so catching, his manner so overflows with 
 good nature and enjoyment, that he continually suggests to 
 you that he is not actmg but simply amusing himself and a 
 mixed company of friends. Whatever he plays, he is always 
 James Lewis, but you never grow weary of his quaint, whim- 
 sical humor and his broad dashes of comedy. Vou r;now full well 
 that no other individuality, however strongly or lumorously it be con- 
 ceived, can be so agreeable as that of this great comedian, who has no 
 superior and few equals on the dramatic stages of the world. It has been 
 truly said of him that " he slips into a character as into a transparent garment, 
 allowing his own comical personality to shine through it." He puts his whole self ' , 
 
 into a part. When he explodes a jest his whole mmd has been given to it. With V^j, 
 
 him a few words are sufficient to express what would need whole sentences to i f 
 
 others ; he can make a syllable serve for a sentence, a look suffice for a paragraph. \ i - ,, 
 
 And what a wonderful gallery of portraits lies in that heart-easing, mirthful face \ 
 
 of his! How easily, out of that abundant, good store of spirits which he pos- 
 sesses, can he tickle your sense of the ridiculous! How dry his humor! How 
 sly his fun ! 
 
 It was an accident that gave James Lewis a chance of helping to relieve the 
 world of some of its dull care. He was a lad of nineteen, teaching school at 
 Troy, N. Y., where he was born in 1840. An actor friend who was playing at the Museum 
 asked him to fill his part — a small one — while he ran down to New York for a night or two. 
 Lewis, who had a weakness for the stage, consented, learned the part in a few hours and 
 played it satisfactorily. The fascinations of New York appear to have been too much for 
 the friend, for he did not return to the city of collars and cuffs, and so James Lewis slipped 
 into his shoes at the Museum. He kept his counsel to him.self, and his family began to won- 
 der where "Jimmy " spent his evenings. One night his sister went to the theatre. We can wel 
 imagine her astonishment when she recognized in the comic man, her brother. But she said noth- 
 ing about her discovery to anyone save their mother, who regarded this new departure as a boyish 
 ■" " • escapade and thought it wiser not to interfere, never doubting that her son would soon get tired 
 
 of the stage. Master James, in the meanwhile, was remaining under the happy delusion that he 
 , had not been found out. The denouement came at last. There was a scene. The lad refused 
 to give up the profession of an actor and soon drifted out West with a strolling company. 
 Mr. Lewis gained his first recognition in New York city as a member of Eliza Holt's burlesque 
 company while playing the role of Lucretia Borgia in a burlesque of that name. He convulsed the 
 town with his humor and for a whole season kept the house packed by his impersonation of that much wrongly abused lady. This 
 engagement had been preceded by one at the Olympic Theatre, New York, then under the management of the perennial I\irs. John 
 Wood, which his friend Artemus Ward had obtained for him. Before that he had been playing in the South and was present at the 
 inauguration, in 1861, of Jefferson Davis, as President of the Confederacy, at Richmond. He escaped from Savannah by the last 
 steamer that was allowed to leave that port for the North. 
 
 It was in 1879 that Mr. Lewis joined Augustin Daly's famous company of comedians, and he has ever since remained faithful to that 
 manager, never having been touched by the starring craze. At Daly's Theatre he proved himself unequalled in his particular line of 
 comedy, and when the company has been in London the critics have recognized him as unequalled on their stage. Whether it be in 
 one of these rollicking farces which Mr. Daly translates from the German, or in a Shakespearean play, Mr. Lewis's brilliant comic 
 powers are equally telling. No one has in our day shown us such a Touchstone — who •' was his folly like a .stalking horse and under 
 his presentation of th: t shows his wit " — as he. Verily, to quote what Hazlitt said of Mrs. Siddons, " it is pride and happiness enough 
 for us to have lived at the same time with " Mr. Lewis. With him among us we need not despair of the .American stage. 
 
 «««*,■ 
 
 — 1 8—
 
 A scandal did not 
 
 IXTY years ago the English-speak- 
 ing stage was a very severe 
 school. Without fear of a charge 
 of being unduly hiiidator iciiiporis acti, one may state 
 it produced a far better average of "mummers " than 
 that same stage can show to-day. Sixty years ago 
 the player commenced his career at the bottom rung 
 of the ladder and worked his way laboriously up. 
 
 make a star in those davs; the revelations of a divorce court did not supply the lack 
 V of sacred fire, nor a costly wardrobe the want of training. The pernicious star sys- 
 tem had certainlv been introduced some time before by Sarah Siddons, but stars 
 were few and far between and only reached that rank in the theatrical firmament 
 after years of toil had developed an e.Ktraordinary talent. Stock companies flour- 
 ished, 'and in those days theatrical managers put all their strength into these com- 
 panies. It was not at all uncommon for a stock company to consist of thirty or 
 forty persons. At the principal theatres each member was excellent in his or her 
 specialtv. Three weeks was considered a long run for a piece. As a rule the bill 
 was completely changed each night. It generally consisted of three plays, the last 
 being a farce, and between the acts a song or dance was performed. Of course, 
 this continual change in the bills gave the members of these stock companies a 
 great deal of work, but it also gave them an enormous amount of experience, and 
 they were ready at the shortest notice to fill a part m any of the standard plays. The 
 pit held the true censors of the drama. There sat men who attended every first 
 night, made a regular study of the drama, and had the tradition of the stage at their 
 fingers' ends. Thev could'make a play or mar an actor, and woe betide the careless 
 player who sought' their verdict. That an actor should not know his part was an 
 impossibility then, for managers insisted that the members of their companies should 
 be word-perfect at the first rehearsal of each play. 
 
 Such was the English-speaking stage when that evergreen actress, Mrs. John 
 Drew, first appeared on it. She was a tiny tot when she made her debut in 1S24 
 as Agib in •• Timour the Tartar," at the Liverpool Theatre, for she had been born 
 in London but six years before. Her mother, Mrs. Kinloch, who died only a com- 
 paratively short time ago, brought her to this country. In September, 1827, " Little 
 Louisa Lane," as Mrs. Drew was then called, made her first bow to an American 
 audience at the Walnut Street Theatre, Philadelphia. She played the Duke of York 
 to the Richard III. of Junius Brutus Booth, whom the rivalry of Edmund Kean had 
 • '; driven out of London. 
 '■ That stage excrescence, the "infant prodigy," was then as much in vogue in this 
 country as it has been during the last few years, and the small Louisa had a great success, 
 playing in one piece as manv as five different parts. In 1833 we find her a member of the 
 stock companv of the old Bowery Theatre, in New York, where she took part in a constant 
 round of legitimate pieces and laid the foundation for that fame she has since gained of being 
 the finest woman exponent in this country of old comedy parts. Five years later she re- 
 turned to the Walnut Street Theatre and married Henry Hunt, a well-known vocalist of that 
 day. At Walnut Street she became the leading juvenile lady, and there in 1S39 played the 
 part of Julie de Mortemar on the first production of BuKver Lytton's •• Richelieu " in this country. Edwin Forrest took the part of 
 the Cardinal which Mrs. Drew will tell vou she considers one of his finest performances, as he was less robust in it than in others. 
 And she will perhaps add that in her opinion Macready, whom she supported in later years, was far the tiner actor of the two and a 
 man of infinitelv superior education. During the season of 1S41-42 Mrs. Hunt was playing in the old standard comedies at the Chest- 
 nut Street Thektre, in Philadelphia, and in 1^848 became the wife of Mossop, the Irish comedian. He died, and in 1850 she married, 
 at Albany, John Drew, who was a favorite both in this country and in England.
 
 
 -••» 
 
 i*^^.--'-'- 

 
 '^imi 
 
 
 CRANE. 
 
 I-IOUT eighteen months ago Mr. William H, Crane was entertained 
 by the Society of .American Play\vrigh:s — which has a very strong 
 foreign element in it — in appreciation of what he had done in fur- 
 thering the interests of the "native dran.atists. " Mr. Crane says he be- 
 eves in a great future for the .American drama, and the result of his belief 
 that he has presented the American public with a remarkable gallery of na- 
 ional portraits. On this occasion the famous comedian was modest enough 
 to say that he owed his success to the American playwright. But the world 
 at large differs with him. Even the Senator, the best of the five characters 
 provided for him by "native" brains since 1890, would not have proved the 
 great success it was and is in other hands. It was Messrs. David D. Lloyd and 
 -Sidney Rosenfeld who sketched Mr. Hannibal Rivers, and very cleverly they did 
 it ; but it was William H. Crane who boldly added the color to the canvas which 
 makes the Senator the cleverest national portrait of the day. And nowhere 
 was his power of making a living picture out of a feebly drawn sketch so well 
 shown as in his creation of John Hacket, in Miss Martha Morton's "Brother 
 John." The play is illogical and insignificant. Mr. Crane's acting gives it 
 meaning and coherence, and even the appearance of power. He may not be a 
 giant in his profession, but he has succeeded in gaining as great a hold on the 
 .American theatre-going public as any comedian on our stage. Indeed, we are 
 not sure if he has not a greater one, especially in the South and West. He has 
 comic force and waggish drollery with which he covers without concealing the 
 energy of his character nor the strength of his emotion. This is essentially an Amer- 
 ican attribute. It was what that most typical of Americans, Abraham Lincoln, pos- 
 sessed so largely. .And the reason that William H. Crane is so popular with thor- 
 oughly American audiences is that he has it, too. Mr. Crane is without exception 
 the most thoroughly .American of our actors of the first rank, and he shows his good 
 ;ense in creating native portraits out of the sketches provided for him by "native " play- 
 rights, even if they do not always happen to be citizens of the United States. 
 Mr. Crane hails from Leicester, Mass., where he was born in 1845, but Boston claims 
 the honor of having educated him, and it was in the Hub that he joined the Young Camp- 
 bell Minstrels about i860. But what was really his first appearance on the stage did 
 not take place till 1863, when he played the small part of the notary in Donizetti's 
 " Daughter of the Regiment," at Utica, N. Y. He had become a member of the Holman 
 Opera Company, a very well-known organization in those days, and with it he remained 
 seven years on a very small salary. After that engagement he procured one with Alice 
 5, with whom he remained until 1874, when he went West and played at Hooley's, San 
 ancisco. In 1876 we find him back in New York acting Dick Swiveller to Lotta's Mar- 
 ness, and soon afterward he made his first hit as Le Blanc, the notary in Rice's " Evan- 
 
 We now come to a very important epoch in ;Mr. Crane's life, and one that will ever remain 
 notable in the annals of the .American stage. That is the time when he entered into partnership 
 with Stuart Robson. They first came together in "Our Boarding House," at the Park Thea- 
 tre, New York, in 1877. Both had been engaged to play the same part and there nearly came 
 a falling out over it, but the affair ended amicably and they entered into their famous partnership 
 As the two Dromios in a somewhat perverted " Comedy of Errors " they made a great success. 
 As Sir Andrew and Sir Toby they had been a success in "Twelfth Night" and did not care now to relapse into vulgar farce. They 
 appealed to Bronson Howard to supply them with an American coined)-. For over a year the dramatic partners played in "The 
 Henrietta " with immense success, and then they decided to dissolve partnership. Since then Mr. Crane has produced " On Probation," 
 "Papa Perichon." "The Senator," "For Money," "The American Minister" and " Brother John. " 
 
 which lasted for nearly twelve years.
 
 [ ■■-.?'^(i:3i,«8R:;.; 
 
 VIOLA ALLEN. 
 
 ISS ^■IOLA ALLEN is one of those charming women who 
 upsets all one's theories as to the necessity of a long train- 
 ing to make a successful ' ' mummer. " She is one of those 
 exceptions who tests the rule that an actress, to be a success and a 
 lasting one, must start from the very beginning of her profession and 
 gradually work her way up. Twelve years ago, when her schooling was 
 hardly ended, when she had seen probably -not more than half a dozen 
 plays, she took the place of Annie Russell at the Madison Square 
 Theatre in "Esmeralda." She had had no preparation for the stage, 
 unless you may call her appearance as a child without a word to say in 
 a play at Halifa.x a preparation, and yet she was a success. True, she 
 came of theatrical stock. Her father, Leslie Allen, is one of the best 
 "old men" on the American stage and is a very clever character actor. 
 Her mother, who is known to the dramatic world as Mrs. Brutone, is 
 a good actress, but that ought not, if our theories are correct, to be 
 sufficient to make Miss Allen the good actress she is. Miss .Allen's stage 
 career reminds one of that of Fanny Kemble. She, too, came of the- 
 atrical stock and had had no dramatic preparation when she appeared 
 on the stage and turned the heads of our father? and grandfathers. 
 Mrs. Kemble has told us how she was brought out in three weeks from 
 the time her father decided to make an actress of her. "Three weeks 
 was not much time for preparation," she writes in that delightful 'Record 
 of a Girlhood,' "of any sort for such an experiment, but I had no more, 
 to become acquainted with my fellow actors and actresses, not one of whom 
 I had ever spoken with or seen — off the stage — before ; to learn all the tech- 
 nical busiiuss, as it is called, of the stage; how to carry myself toward the 
 audience, which was not — but was to be — before me; how to concert my move- 
 ments with the movements of those I was acting with, so as not to impede or 
 intercept their efforts, while giving the greatest effect of which I was capable to 
 my own." 
 
 Miss Viola Allen's early stage e.xperiences were much the same, and when she 
 first played Esmeralda she was no better than was Fanny Kemble as Juliet, who, 
 as Macready said, did not then know the elements of her profession. But both were 
 successes, and each proved by her later work that she deserved to be a success. 
 Miss Allen's Esmeralda was very crude. Her latent creation, Rosamond, in Sydney 
 Grundy's "Sowing the Wind," was one of the most artistic performances of the sea- 
 son. Read what Mr. William Winter, the celebrated dramatic critic, had to say of the 
 performance: "Miss Viola Allen was more eagerly and earnestly acclaimed by the 
 audience for her playing of Rosamond than for anything which she had done before in 
 this city [New YorkJ. This piece, in fact, afforded her a distinct and conspicuous per- 
 a f sonal triumph, which was not approached by any other person in the cast. Her touch 
 
 * ; was true and fine in all the important passages, and she brought tears to many eyes by 
 
 her unaffected pathos in two of the strong scenes. Her acting last evening makes a 
 notable advance for her in her profession, and between the acts and after the play the 
 theatre and the lobbies rang with her praises." 
 
 " Recommendation from Sir Hubert is praise indeed." 
 
 The South can claim Miss Allen as its daughter, but her father and mother joined the 
 
 Boston Museum stock company when she was a child and so she got a Bostonese education. 
 
 .•Vfter her success in "Esmeralda" she appeared in ".-Mpine Roses." The late Lawrence Barrett 
 
 procured her services for a time, and she left him to become leading lady to the elder Salvini. 
 
 In the summer of 1886-7 Miss Allen was playing leading parts at the Madison Square Theatre. 
 
 Since then she has played with Jefferson and Florence in "Aristocracy," in " Liberty Hall," in " The 
 
 Councillor's Wife " and in "Gudgeons." 
 
 #■•
 
 OME years ago there was produced 
 in a Xew York theatre a play in which 
 Madame Modjeska acted the part of 
 the heroine and ^Maurice Barrymore was the hero. On its first night 
 a reporter on the A'f7i> \'or/; Hc-rahi was detailed to send "notes" 
 to his paper. When the play was over the reporter and the author 
 of the play adjourned to a chop house and were discussing old- days 
 when they were "cramming" for Indian Civil Service at Walter 
 Wren's in London. Maurice Barrymore dropped in and joined 
 the party. "What, were you fellows at Wren's? "he asked. 
 "So was I. Don't you remember Herbert Blythe ? " 
 
 Of course they remembered Herbert Blythe, a sort of fleeting 
 shadow who had the reputation of being a brilliant scholar, of 
 knowing how to manage his "dukes" better than any amatuer 
 bo.xer of his day and of never attending any class save when ^ 
 the late Prof. Thorold Rogers was talking scandal against 
 Queen Elizabeth. It was a strange reunion, this meetmg of 
 of Wren's pupils, twenty years or so after they had left Powis 
 Square and thousands of miles away from their native heath. i!ut 
 pleasant as it was strange; for Maurice Barrymore is a delight- 
 ful companion and has this advantage over most of his fellow 
 players — he is educated. He was at Cambridge before he 
 went to Wren's, and when he gave up all idea of serving 
 the Kaiser I. Hind ui India he "ate his dinners" and be- 
 came a barrister. But soon got weary of Blackstone and 
 Broome and being a born Bohemian — although his father 
 was a clergvman of the Established Church — he drifted 
 on to the stage. He came to this country and ma ' 
 his first appearance at the Fifth Avenue Theatre, Ne\ 
 York. At once he was accepted by the public — espe- 
 cially the female portion of it — as one of the best of 
 the \m^o\-titA jt-iines fircmn-rs and Maurice Barrymure's 
 photographs sold like wildfire. Splendidly built and 
 very handsome m face, he could easily have stepped 
 into the shoes of Harry Montague who, charming ac- 
 tor that he was, was never what Maurice Barrymore 
 could have been had Barrymore so chosen. But 
 " Barry," as his intimates who have known him since 
 he adopted the stage as a profession call hun, " Her- 
 bie," as he is called by those who knew him before, 
 did not chose. He has rarely shown the public what 
 ' ' ' his capabilities are. There is no man on the American 
 stage to-day who can play the melodramatic hero better than he if he wants to ; 
 none his superior in refined comedy would he only give his mind to it. When one, 
 knows what a really brilliant man Maurice Barrymore is, how far ahead he is in talent of most of 
 the successful actors on our boards, one feels inclmed to kick him as he shambles through his part. 
 The great trouble, however, about kicking him is that, in prize ring parlance, he would very soon send 
 his kicking critic "to sleep." 
 
 Barrymore is a playwright as well as a player. His " Nadjesda," written for Madame Modjeska, is a very powerful plav, but there 
 was an incident in the plot which the public, at the time it was produced, could not digest. So it failed. The public stomach has 
 since these days become very strong and, had we a Sarah Ikrnhardt to play the title part, we imagine " Xadjesda " would now draw- 
 crowded houses. He also wrote the book of "The Robber of the Rhine," which was utterly unworthy of his talents. 
 
 w 
 
 ','1 
 
 —26-

 
 AN SEN. 
 
 the contemporary theatre there stands a certain 
 little tigure that, to my mind, has seldom been surpassed in 
 winsomeness, piquancy, verve and a rude sort of grace ; the 
 igiire of a \vholesome-lool<iinf, mischievous-eyed youth, with damask cheek 
 and rosebud mouth, throui;li whose constant smile two rows of tiny teeth peer 
 out ; a figure of plump and sturdy lines set lightly on tapering ankles and 
 poised on a pair of French heels. For outer habiliment it wears a suit of pea 
 green silk cut in Persian fashion, and on the chestnut locks, close-cropped but 
 curlv, perches a cap rich with gold in embroidered arabesques. It is in that form 
 and in that garb that I shall always thuik of Marie Jansen: and, possibly, be- 
 cause of the charm of that particular presentment, her performance in "The 
 Oolah " — the operetta in which she shared stellar honors with Francis Wilson — will 
 always remain in my memory as her most delightful achievement. Of course, a sin- 
 gle characterization of that kind, where much, if not all, of effectiveness and beauty 
 springs from the purely personal qualities of the performer, the accidents of physique 
 and temperament, does not constitute a passport to fame or even to a really consid- 
 erable position in the (jrofcssion of acting. It may be doubted, indeed, whether any 
 of Miss Jansen's theatric attainments, up to the present moment of her stage career, 
 compel for her the title of actress — using the word in its e.xact significance. She has 
 been for some years one of the most attractive and pleasurable identities in the Amer- 
 ican theatre — but she has never been anything but Miss Jansen ; a pretty young wom- 
 an — by no means beautiful — of a manner refreshingly free from affectation, and, best 
 of all, possessed of a voice of particularly fetching intonation. Not so much a 
 singing voice as the voice of a t//sc'!isi; one peculiarly adapted to the rendition of such 
 ballads and ditties as belong to the roles that have fallen to Miss Jansen. There is elo- 
 quence, graphic illustration and illumination in the nuances, the shadows of Miss Jan- 
 sen's voice. Who that remembers her singing of "Be Good, Sweet Maid," fails to 
 recall the sweet, almost pathetic, suggestion of words and tune in themselves com- 
 monplace and risque. If I have dwelt insistently on these details as the essential 
 characteristics of ^liss Jansen's theatric potency it is because they constitute the sum 
 total of her worth as a performer. Attributes, not attainments, are her agencies or 
 causes of charm. Save in such comparative excellence as comes from long famil- 
 iarity with her calling, she is not better to-day, with all the added glamour of a 
 " star," than she was five years or more ago, when she twinkled on the boards of 
 the Casino in the company of a score of luminaries, each quite as important pro- 
 fessionally as herself. Indeed, having cut song and dance from her resources of en- 
 tertainment, it may be questioned whether she has not given over a material part of 
 her worth of attraction. Nor has she compensated for their surrender by any ad- 
 vance in the art of her calling. In the neat little farces especially prepared for her 
 advantageous exploitation, she is not called upon to attempt heights of miming far 
 beyond her reach, and as a consequence the public finds her quite satisfying. Much 
 success, I believe, has followed Miss Jansen's adventure in the independent circum- 
 stances of a "star" and in view of her material prosperity she is justified, perhaps, in 
 hazarding no uncalled-for efforts toward becoming a veritable artiste. Possibly, the 
 public might not like her if she did anything of that sort. The public resents any inter- 
 ference with its own established notions regarding the limitations of a player. Having 
 long since made up its mind as to the character and quality of the work in which Miss 
 Jansen is pleasing, it would probably refuse to consider her in anything more ambitious than 
 the adapted farces that are built around her. 
 
 -28-
 
 HOPPER. 
 
 'HETHER any amount of hard 
 work would have made Mr. 
 DeWolf Hopper such an art- 
 ist as was the late Fred Leslie and is Francis 
 Wilson, we would not venture to say. But Mr. 
 Hopper, when he first appeared as a member of 
 Colonel McCauU's comic opera company, displaved 
 such decided talent that he was hailed with delight 
 by the critics and the public. .Since then he appears 
 to have made no progress in his calling, if indeed 
 he has not fallen off. We imagine that had he paid 
 less heed to the fulsome praise of his friends ; had he 
 paid no attention to the newspaper paragraphs which 
 were continually recording his sayings and doings and applied 
 himself seriously to his art, he would now be in the first rank in 
 his profession. He is still young, however. He can yet rise above 
 his surroundings and save himself from becoming, while still in the 
 prime of his life, a "back number." Unfortunately, Mr. Hopper and a 
 number of other young players who began their dramatic experiences with 
 every promise of success, have not yet learned that there is no golden road to it, that 
 It is not in mortals to command success; they can only deserve it, and that by hard work. 
 The majority of this class of mummer study only the dramatic papers or the criticisms about 
 themselves and their friends in the daily journals. For what the world beyond the dramatic 
 stage is doing they care not a snap of the fingers, and the whole of good literature is to them a 
 sealed book. They belong to a mutual admiration society, to which they admit such outsiders only 
 as will loudly laud their alleged witticisms. And there are in every community plenty of men 
 whose ambition it is to call a player by his Christian name and consider it an honor to be seen 
 drinking with him or slapping him on the back. But such an atmosphere stifles art, and the actors 
 who live in it generally go to the wall sooner or later. Into.xicated by a first success, their vanity 
 overreaches them; they trade too much on' the good nature of the public; the public wearies of 
 them, leaves them alone and they join the ranks of failures. We do not say such a fate has over- 
 taken Mr. Hopper and W'e trust it never may. We do not deny his popularity with lovers of comic 
 opera inanities. But we do warn him of the danger in store for him if he insists upon hiding his 
 talents under a bushel. 
 ■ Mr. Hopper, who was born on March 30, 185S, is the son of a New York lawyer who died when his 
 
 only chilci was si.K years old. It was intended that Wolf should follow his father's profession, but al- 
 though he had no theatrical blood in his veins he early developed a taste for the drama, and before he was 
 out of his teens he was well known on the New York amateur stage. Mr. Hopper is very tall ; his legs are 
 abnormally long and so are his arms. As everyone knows, arms and legs become very unruly members 
 when their owners know they are being watched, and our youthful amateur found it very hard to accommo- 
 date his on the stage. However, he eventually managed to get some control over them and then announced 
 his determination to desert the law for the drama. As .Arthur Middlewick in "Our Boys" he made his first public debut, and so 
 delighted his admiring friends that they formed a company for him and he started on the road with a piece called "A Hundred 
 Wives." This proved a failure. The ambitious young actor, moreover, lost every penny he had in the enterprise. He soon after- 
 wards got an engagement at Harrigan's Theatre, in New York, and then went to the Madison Square Theatre to play the part of 
 Pittacus Green in " Hazel Kirke," which he did admirably. He also plaj'ed in "May Blossom" and while doing so attracted the 
 attention of that excellent artist, .Madame Cottrelly, who recommended him to Colonel McCauU. .-Xs a member of Colonel McCauU's 
 forces he became immensely popular and then joined the great army of "stars." 
 
 His favor with the public seems to grow with each season and each new characterization that he contributes to the stage. .-\s 
 "Wang," as " Panjandrum," and, most recently, as " Dr. Syntax," he has been accepted by theatre-goers throughout the country 
 with enthusiastic — and profitable — acclaim. He still remains, however, the gawky, shambling buffoon, utterly wanting in artistic 
 discretion and woefully lacking in artistic taste.
 
 
 
 % .-4-M 
 
 
 T 
 
 Cy-~ 
 
 J 
 
 GEORGIA CAYVAN. 
 
 HERE is not on the American stage to-day any woman more pop- 
 ular than Miss Georgia Cayvan, leading lady of the stock company of the 
 Lyceum Theatre, New York. It is not that she is superior either in personal 
 appearance or talent to her sister artists, but she possesses a personal magnetism which 
 appears to have given her that place in the hearts of the American people — and espe- 
 cially of the female portion of it — which was once oicupieu by Helena Modjeska. Whether 
 it be in New York or San Francisco, Boston or Denver, in Chicago or St. Louis, Miss 
 Cayvan's name on the bill is sure to draw crowded houses, with the female element largely 
 predominating. And of course, the name of Herbert Kelcey must be on the same bill, for 
 the .American theatre-goer has come of late years to consider the two as inseparable. A 
 Lyceum play in which Miss Cayvan and Mr. Kelcey are not husband and wife, or at any 
 rate betrothed in the last act, would seem, as it were, untrue to nature. It may be that 
 future generations will see them cast in dramatizations of "Darby and Joan" and Che- 
 valier's " Dear Old Dutch." 
 
 Miss Cayvan has gained the prominent position she now occupies not only through her 
 personal magnetism, but also by good, honest, hard work. In an article she wrote some 
 years ago in a Brooklyn magazine on " \Voman and the Stage," she gave much good 
 advice to the stage-struck young girl. She told her that she must not be led astray by the 
 delightful triumph of a one-night performance on an amateur stage, but must remember 
 - ^ how the gilt would be worn off the gingerbread by its repetition night after night, by continual 
 
 " rehearsals and by the incessant study necessary to improve upon the original. And as she has 
 preached so has Miss Cayvan practiced. In her earlier performances, although there was always a 
 marked individuality about them, her style was very hard and formal. She had before she adopted the 
 V - stage as her profession been a reader and had a good reputation as such in the New England States. It took 
 — her some years to get rid of her somewhat mechanical gestures and a rather pedantic way of delivering her 
 ' lines. But she struggled hard and triumphed at last. To-day, although she is in the first rank of dramatic art- 
 ists, she works almost as hard as she did then. 
 Miss Cayvan comes from Bath, Me., where she was born about thirty-five years ago. Having, as we have already stated, been 
 originally a professional reader, she took to playing and made her first appearance as an actress in April, 1879, at the Boston Theatre. 
 Hebe in "Pinafore" being her initial role. Soon afterwards she got an engagement at the .Madison Square Theatre, New York, to 
 play the part of Dolly Dutton in " Hazel Kirke," which had just started on its long and successful career. In 18S1 she was promoted 
 to play the part of the heroine of the same piece in a road company, and enjoyed all the hardships of travelling about the country for 
 some months. Then came those e.xtraordinary performances of " Qldipus Tyrannus " at the Boston Theatre, and at Booth's, New 
 York, in which George Riddle, representing Harvard, played the King in Greek and the rest of the performers their parts in the best 
 English they could muster. Miss Cayvan was cast for the role of the unhappy Jocasta, which Mme. Segond-Weber recently played 
 with Mounet-Sully in this country. She acted the part more than fairly, but, truth to tell, the performances were not interesting. Miss 
 Cayvan now found her way to Haverly's Fourteenth Street Theatre, New York, where she played Lisa in " The White Slave," among 
 other parts, and was the original Lura in this country in " The Romany Rj'e." 
 
 / About this time the unfortunate Sara Jewett, who had for years been one of the most admired actresses in the country, left the 
 Union Square company and Miss Cayvan replaced her in some of her roles, such as Marcelle in "The Parisian Romance." It was 
 as Marcelle that she wore her first liccoUctc evening dress, and it took the New England girl some time to get accustomed to such a 
 thing. The position of leading lady of the Union Square in those days was rather a thorny one. To make a long story short. Miss 
 Cayvan thinking discretion the better part of valor, betook herself to the Madison Square and made a great hit in the leading part of 
 David Belasco's " La Belle Russe." The time she spent at this theatre, which was then the connecting link between Church and 
 Stage, was of the greatest benefit to Miss Cayvan, for she had the late Steele Mackaye to give her points in the Delsartian method, 
 and David Belasco is a master in the art of stage education. She then took the part of the heroine in " May Blossom" — the light- 
 hearted country girl who becomes a wife and then a mother laden with sorrow — and after playing for a short time with Dion Bouci- 
 cault signed with Mr. Daniel Frohman in 1S86. Since that time she has never left the Lyceum stock company which has given so 
 many excellent performances of first-rate comedies to the country.
 
 (I'n.inii piiMh'^i.ipii t»y >:ir'Miy, N<u \..ik.)
 
 
 
 JOHX DREW. 
 
 unequalled 
 will recocni. 
 
 OHX DREW did an eminently wise thing when he withdrew from 
 
 Augustin Daly's company. From a financial point of view it is 
 
 understood he has bettered himself; from an artistic point of view 
 
 he has decidedly made an improvement since he became a " star." Of course 
 
 he has been very lucky in his plays and his support. Commencing his career 
 
 as a star in •' The .Masked Ball," he then played in " The Butterflies " and is 
 
 now acting in "The Bauble Shop." Each is a good play; each has been a 
 
 success and in all three Mr. Drew has found a part admirably suited to his 
 
 talents. But he is a far better actor to-day than he was three years ago. 
 
 His love-making was e.xceedingly awkward then. It had become a habit with 
 
 him to swing one arm while he made amorous speeches to Miss 
 
 Rehan swinging her two. Now his love-making is more natural 
 
 and his comedy of a higher order. To be sure, he still has his 
 
 faults, of some of which he will probably never be able to correct 
 
 himself. He walks as badly as ever and he continues to roll his 
 
 eyes as if he had been playing understudy to a codfish in the last 
 
 agonies of death. But he is a fine comedian in spite of this. The 
 
 story goes that when Maurice Barrymore, his brother-in-law, 
 
 wished to rouse the ire of the Drew family he would call his small 
 
 boy to say his prayers, one of which began, " Pray God bless papa 
 
 and mamma," and ended with "make Uncle John an actor." 
 
 The child's prayer has been answered. 
 
 When John Drew decided to sever his connection with the Daly 
 company — that was in May, 1S91 — and signed a five years' con- 
 tract, beginning on the first of the following .May, with Charles 
 Frohman, there were many who prophesied that without Miss 
 
 ?_, ^^^r^i^™-'- ' -^^^m.' Rehan he would prove a failure. But the boot appears to be on 
 
 '(,/ JZl—^Bt^^^bffSlHBB— ■ ^^^^ other leg. Mr. Daly has not yet succeeded in finding a suc- 
 
 r-i^^^^^^^^arBK'^j^^L^i^^; cessor who can supply the place of John Drew, nor has Miss 
 
 ■~ X, ^ ^\1' Rehan made any great hit since they parted company. 
 
 John Drew's first appearance in New York as a star was a 
 great event \n the theatrical world. So closely connected had he 
 been with the Daly company since 1879, in this country, in En- 
 gland and in France, that much curiosity was e.xcited as to how he 
 would succeed away from it. His performance of Paul Blondel 
 'n "The Masked Ball " allayed all fears his friends might have 
 had, and his Lord Clivebrooke in " The Bauble Shop " has silenced 
 all detractors. 
 
 " John Drew served a long apprenticeship and his success has 
 
 been due not only to inherited talent, but also to hard work. He 
 has a fine, expressive face and a voice of ample power. He is 
 on our stage to-day in passages of merry banter and good-natured cynicism. Those who have seen Charles Mathews 
 ze in John Drew that nimble dexterity which the English comedian possessed to so remarkable a degree. 
 
 —34—
 
 N 
 
 '»• *w 
 
 '"-iK
 
 OON after Gounod's death his 
 then ahnost forgotten but dain- 
 ty opera comique, " Philemon and Baucis," was produced b)- the 
 Duff (Jpera Company, at Herman's Theatre, New Yorl<. The part of 
 Baucis, whom Jupiter and \'ulcan rejuvenated out of gratitude for her 
 iiospitable treatment and with whom the King of the Gods afterwards tried 
 to get up a Hirtation, was cliarmingly sung and gracefully acted by a Miss D. 
 Eloise Morgan. She received almost unstinted praise from the critics, but 
 who she was and whence she came none could tell, although one did recall 
 having seen her take the part of Marguerite in a performance of "Faust" 
 given the year before by the pupils of the National Conservatory. When, a lit- 
 tle later, " Philemon and Baucis " was produced at the Metropolitan Opera House, 
 Sigiid Arnoldson essayed the heroine's role. Hut although the "Danish Night- 
 ingale " is accepted as a prima donna in ICurope, it was generally acknowledged 
 by those who had heard both singers in the same part that Miss Morgan's Bau- 
 cis was superior to that of Mme. Arnoldson. " I don't know," wrote one well- 
 known critic after he had heard her in the part, " who Miss D. Eloise Morgan is, 
 but she was certainly a surprise. She sang with the deliberate assurance of an 
 Italian opera artist, and her voice is magnificently cultivated, pure in tone and sure 
 in touch." Miss Morgan's voice is a light soprano; it is very flexible and of wide 
 range, and she possesses a high note — G in alt — that is phenomenal. Moreover she 
 is young, graceful and pretty — all commendable qualities in heroines of an opera com- 
 ique, but, alas! too rarely possessed by them. 
 Miss Morgan, who hails from California, played in " Natural Gas" with Donnelly and 
 Girard a few years ago under the stage name of Ollie Archmere. She later made quite a 
 hit as one of the three rosebuds in Paul Potter's original edition of " The City Directory." 
 Then she was engaged to play in Hoyt's "A Trip to Chinatown " and spent some time in 
 that company. But she had an ambition that rose above farce comedy and joined an 
 opera company which toured through the country for two summers, and with it gained some valu- 
 able experience. Four years ago slie went abroad to study singing, and having been recommended 
 to Mme. La Grange, spent some months in Paris enjoying the tuition of that excellent trainer of the voice. She returned to this 
 country, studied at the National Conservatory and then made her successful appearance as Baucis. When the Bostonians produced 
 Mr. "Tom" Thome's "The Maid of Plymouth," Miss Morgan took the part of Priscilla, and a very winsome New England girl 
 she proved to be. In the early part of this ( 1894) fall season Gilbert and Sullivan's delightful masterpiece, "The Mikado." was 
 revived at the Fifth Avenue Theatre, New York, and Miss Morgan appeared as Yum Yum. 
 
 — ;,6-
 
 (From a « npyri)<lil iiliiHnyrapli I>y It. J. Kalk, N. V.)
 
 ::- OTIS 
 
 SKINNER. 
 
 TIS SKINNER is consid- 
 ered in his profession to be 
 one of the promising ex- 
 ponents of the legitimate drama 
 among the young actors on the ■' 
 American stage. He has ambi- '- 
 tion and plenty of intelligence wherewith 
 to carry it out. He has a tine stage presence, 
 a good voice, and bred as he has been amid polite t/V". 
 rroundings, he is able to bring to the boards that re- 
 linement usually lacking in actors not "to the man- 
 ner born." After many years of apprenticeship on 
 the stage ; after acting in every class of play from 
 burlesque to melodrama, from comedy to tragedy, he 
 as made his debut as a star in Clyde Fitch's "His 
 Grace de Gramont." I have not seen him in the piece, ■" 
 but imagine that Mr. Skinner would give an excellent 
 representation of that brilliant, light-hearted young 
 Frenchman, whose r/sgues " Memoires " have delighted stu- 
 dents for nigh three hundred years. Mr. Skinner was born at 
 Canibndgcport, Mass., on June 28, 1857. His father, the Rev. Charles A. Skin- 
 ner, is a Universahst minister well known in 
 New England. For three generations back 
 the Skinners had been clergymen, and Otis's 
 father wished him to study for the ministry; 
 but when he had finished his education at 
 Hartford, Conn., he drifted into a commis- 
 sion house in that city. Skinner had a soul that 
 rose above dry goods and soon began spouting 
 Shakespeare instead of attending to his cler- 
 ical duties. When he was a little over twenty 
 he obtained an engagement at Wood's Mu- 
 seum, l^hiladelphia, and there made his debut 
 I in a small negro character part in a play 
 called "Woodleigh." As his salary was 
 only eight dollars a week and as he was not 
 always sure of being paid even that owing 
 to the exiguity of the theatre treasury, it is a 
 good deal to his credit that he worked hard 
 for his employers and quickly won his way 
 ''' to recognition. He spent a summer season 
 at the Chestnut Street Theatre, in the same 
 city, and then went to the Walnut Street Thea- 
 tre. The next year he appeared at Niblo's, New 
 York, and in the winter of 1879 he spent a short 
 season supporting Edwin Booth at Booth's Theatre. 
 The season of 1880-81 found him at the Boston Theatre, and for the following three seasons he supported Lawrence Barrett. In 
 1884 he became a member of .Xugustin Daly's famous company. He remained with this organization for five years; he then sup- 
 ported Margaret IMather and Madame Modjeska in succession. 
 
 
 ^ -TS- 
 
 
 -38-
 
 (Friini iiliolo, copyright 1893 by II. .1. Talk, N. \.)
 
 
 '"^ 
 
 M^-< 
 
 IT is not often that *^ a youns; actress of twenty finds herself 
 in the position that Miss Mand Adams did on the morn- 
 ing of October 4, 1892. The night before she had ap- 
 peared in New York as leading lady to John Drew, in the part 
 of Suzanne Blondel, the heroine of •' The Maslied Ball." and the next 
 _g^ morning she awoke to find herself famous. She had made the hit of the 
 y^ piece. Hers was no easy part, for she had to feign intoxication, and this she 
 did in an exquisitely comic manner without being in the least offensive. 
 .Miss Adams was born in Salt Lake City not quite twenty-two years ago. At the 
 time of her birth her mother was leading woman in a stock company at the Mor- 
 mon capital, and the child made her first appearance on the stage when she was 
 only nine months old. It seems that the young lady had become very cross one 
 evening over the teething process and refused to be comforted. The nurse took the 
 child to the theatre to see what effect maternal authority might produce on her ob- 
 streperous cliarge. Mrs. Adams was playing in a piece called "The Lost Child." 
 The infant who usually played the title role did not happen to turn up that night and 
 the manager was in desperate straits when the .Adams Ijaby arrived. He tore it from 
 the nurse's arms, popped it on a tray ; and in this fashion did the charming Jessie Keber 
 of the future make her theatrical debut. She made her next appearance with the late 
 J. K. Emmet, who her mother was then supporting. .Much against the will of her 
 .Mr. Kiskadden, who said he would "not have the child make a fool of herself," she 
 played for a short time with Emmet and was then packed off to school. There she remained 
 until she was sixteen, when she joined Mr. Daniel Frohman's excellent company at the Ly- 
 ceum Theatre, New York. When "A Midnight Bell " was produced at the Bijou her 
 manager allowed her to take the part of a New England schoolgirl in it, and upon the 
 withdrawal of the piece she joined the theatrical forces of Mr. Charles Frohman. In 
 "A Midnight Bell" Miss Adams had made an excellent impression. That im- 
 pression was more than confirmed by her performance of an iits^eniie role 
 . ^ in " Men and Women," and when her creation of Nell, the crip- 
 
 - ______ pled working girl in "The Lost Paradi.se" was seen, it was 
 
 generally acknowledged that she was one of the most promis- 
 ing young actresses on the American stage. I!ut it was not 
 until she appeared as Suzanne Blondel that it was uni- 
 versally conceded that Miss Adams had taken a position 
 in the first rank of her profession. Could she retain it ? 
 I think Miss Adams has shown that she could and has 
 proved by her performance in " The Bauble Shop " that she is 
 quite as good in pathetic parts as she is in humorous. She can 
 move to tears as well as rouse laughter. What greater contrast 
 can there be than that which lies between the two characters of 
 Suzanne lilondel and Jessie Keber? And yet Miss Adams 
 was as mirth-inspiring in "The Masked Ball" as she is 
 touching in " The Bauble Shop." It is very rarely that in a 
 - _ modern play one comes across so pretty a piece of po- 
 
 etical prose as the description Jessie gives to Mat- 
 thew Keber of the cottage Lord Clivebrooke has 
 bought for her and her drunken father — that 
 "sweetest little cottage in the world," in whose gar- 
 den are "curious old apple trees with crooked, 
 ke pretty girls hanging round crabby old fathers' necks and 
 
 It is rare, too, to 
 
 jM^,^^ 
 
 V- 
 
 stunted branches and roses climbing up them and choking them like 
 
 the pink blossoms are scattered all round — that's the tears the apple trees have shed because they are so happy 
 
 hear such a charming sketch so charmingly delivered as it is by .Miss Adams 
 
 —40-
 
 {Krnin :i phntoKraph by Sur.my, New \nrk.)
 
 -5-<^^ 
 
 
 /--^^.v 
 
 ^^^— 
 
 \ 
 
 ''■" ~ i* SS5 i«^i^|iEB ai' ■ I ^" — 
 
 rR 
 
 / 
 
 \ 
 
 FRANZ EBERT. 
 
 AXZ EBERT, the leading '^'x/' ^ 
 ^ • comedian of "the Liliputians." \ 
 
 is the concentrated essence of humor. He 
 is a deliglitfully quaint, droll little fellow, 
 with a face that is comedy in itself. His 
 method is simplicity and quietude. Vou 
 do not find him sinking to burlesque ; he never 
 descends to gymnastics. He accomplishes all his ef- 
 fects with a look, sometimes helped out with an into- 
 nation. He possesses a marvellous smile. That na- 
 ture gave him ; but he gained through art a walk 
 which tells more than a ten-minute soliloquy. Franz 
 Ebcrt, who was born in the Furstenwalde, a suburb 
 of lierlin, about thirty years ago, is one of eight 
 children, of which family he is the only dwarfish 
 member. He came to this country with the Lili- 
 putians in 1890 and appeared for the first time at 
 Niblo's (harden. New York, on September i 5 of 
 that year. It was the intention of the company 
 to play for si.K months in the United States, but 
 so great has been their success that they have 
 remained here four years. 
 
 ^J 
 
 jlwsS- .. _„«>SZ''5''**^' 
 
 J,' 
 
 f 
 
 -4^-
 
 (Fniin n |ili.i|..>:r.iiili !■> I'ai h, Nivv York.)
 
 
 EMMA EAMES. 
 
 'HE fairy godmother that attended the birth of Madame Emma Eames- 
 Story was very bountiful in her gifts to the future operatic star. She 
 gave her beauty of no common order and endowed her with a magnifi- 
 cent vocal organ. But one gift she forgot to bestow and that was dramatic instinct. 
 When Gounod first heard Miss Emma Thursby sing, he described her as a '•beauti- 
 ful icicle." That is the trouble with most of our sopranos. They are usually so cold. 
 They have sweet and fie.xible voices, often of extraordinary range, but they lack soul 
 and they are stiff on the stage. Alboni had a most ungainly figure and never at- 
 tempted to ar/ in opera, because she couldn't ; but she had what the French term 
 " tears in her voice," and as she swayed awkwardly to and fro her audiences forgot 
 Alboni's physical defects in the deep pathos of her voice. Miss Emma Eanies charms 
 one with her rare beauty, with her glorious voice; but she does not touch you. She 
 never gives you the impression that she feels the part she is playing. She has been 
 likened to Mary Anderson — a half-awakened Galatea — and it has been said of her "she 
 sings like a siren and looks pale, pure and remote as a star." It may be she wears what 
 \V. D. Howells has called the "Puritan mask." She was born in China, it is true, but 
 she was bred in Boston, Mass., and has New England blood in her veins. In former 
 days artists in grand opera were not expected to be able to act ; but Wagner has done so 
 much to drive Philistinism from the musical stage that nowadays we need dramatic in- 
 stinct as well as beautiful voices. It is Calve's acting and not her voice that has made 
 her a star of the first magnitude. However, Miss Eames does make a very beautiful 
 Marguerite; and if it be not the Marguerite that Pauline Lucca showed us, it is at any 
 rate as passionate as was Christine Nilsson's and infinitely more pleasing than Patti's. 
 Gounod's Juliette is not a very powerful dramatic role and Miss Eames is quite up to its 
 demands; as the Countess in the " Nozze de F"igaro " she is very charming; but that, too, 
 is a part which calls for no great dramatic power. It is when .Mi.ss Eames attempts such 
 roles as Elsa in " Lohengrin " that one discovers how much she lacks the divine spark. 
 Then even her beauty and the sweetness of her voice fail to cloak her shortcomings. 
 
 Miss Eames sang in public as a young girl in Boston. Her mother, who was a fine 
 amateur singer herself, recognized that her daughter's voice was out of the ordinary and took 
 her to Paris to study with Madame Marchesi. She was anxious to make her first appearance 
 in opera at the Theatre de la Monnaie in Brussels, where Melba and many another celebrated 
 artist have first been heard. She might have appeared there several times as an understudy, 
 but was persuaded by friends not to make her debut in public until she could do so as 
 a prima donna. In 1889 she appeared at the Grand Opera with great success as Juliette 
 and later with equal success as Marguerite and in "Ascamo. " Miss Eames was engaged 
 by Sir Augustus Harris for the London operatic season of 1891. While visiting London she became the wife of Mr. Julian Story, 
 second son of the well-known American sculptor. During the operatic season of 1891-2 in New York, Mi.ss Eanies made her Ameri- 
 can debut as Juliette. The critics did not give her the unstinted praise she had received in Paris. When she reappeared in this 
 country two years later she had made great strides in her profession and is now accepted in the L'nited States as well as in Europe as 
 one of the great singers of grand opera. 
 
 
 v;4 
 
 ) 
 
 -44-
 
 iFrum u copyhKlH |>lioto}|:ra|ih by I!, j. I .tik, N. \ .)
 
 ) Ji*^^. ,i^ 
 
 RESZKE. 
 
 HK Ue Reszkes are the most celebrated family of singers of mod- 
 ern times. Indeed, we do not recall any family that has pro- 
 duced so many illustrious musical members since the opera was 
 recognized as an established form of art. The De Reszkes are from 
 Warsaw. Their mother was a distinguished amateur and to her early 
 teachings they owe their fame. The eldest of the family is Jean, the 
 subject of this sketch. Besides him there is Edouard, the basso: Jo- 
 sephine, who had considerable success as a soprano in most of the 
 capitals of Europe, but retired from the stage on her marriage, and another 
 brother, the youngest of the De Reszkes, who is reported to have a mag- 
 nificent tenor voice. 
 
 Jean de Reszke was born at \Varsaw on January 14, 1852, and when a boy of twelve 
 was delighting the good people of that city by the charming way in which he sang 
 solos in the cathedral. He took lessons from Ciaffei and then went to Turin to study 
 under Cotogni, who took him to London to hear Mario, the greatest operatic tenor of his 
 generation, if not of all times. Mario was sixty years old at the time and was bidding 
 farewell to the public. He was still a consummate artist and to have heard him even in 
 his old age, to have seen him act, was a lesson in itself to any singer. He made his 
 last appearance on the London stage amid intense enthusiasm as Alfonso in the " Favor- 
 ita," and it was this part that Jean de Reszke — under the name of De Reschi — selected for 
 his debut at Venice in January, 1874. It was a very successful "first appearance," and a 
 few months later he was introduced to a London public in the same part. He was then 
 taking baritone parts, but the London critics, who spoke of his future expectations in 
 the highest terms, called attention to the fact that his voice was more a low tenor than 
 baritone. After having sung with some success at the Italiens in Paris, he made his 
 tenor debut as Robert, at Madrid, in 1879, having meanwhile studied under Professor 
 Sbriglia, who recognized that De Reszke's former singing masters had placed his voice 
 wrongly. Madrid went wild over the new tenor who, though not as good an actor as 
 he is to-day, had much improved since he first appeared at Turin, when he was exceedingly 
 awkward. In 1S84 he played in Paris the part of John the Baptist in " Herodiade," his 
 ^ brother Edouard acting the role of Simmone Boccanegra. Alassenet was so delighted 
 with Jean's performance that he procured for the tenor an engagement at the Opera House 
 to create the part of Le Cid. It was produced in November, 1885. From that production 
 dates the world-wide fame of Jean de Reszke. He was now acknowledged to be the best stage tenor 
 that had appeared since the days of Mario, and created a great furore when he appeared as Faust, 
 Edouard playing Mephistopheles and Madame Patti .Marguerite, on the live hundredth performance of 
 "Faust ' in November, 1887. In the summer of the same year he had reappeared in London and 
 played Lohengrin, Faust and Raoul and again met with unbounded success. On December 14, 1891, he made his first appearance 
 in New York at the Metropolitan Opera House in Gounod's "Romeo et Juliette." His brother was Friar Laurence and Miss Eames 
 played Juliet, but it was Edouard who made the hit of the evening. The following Christmas night Jean appeared as Faust, Miss 
 Eames playing Marguerite, and a most delightful Faust he proved to be. His first season in this country made him a favorite, but 
 when he appeared again in the season of 1893-94 his good work and the marked improvement in his style raised him into the position 
 of an idol of the opera-going public. 
 
 -46-
 
 |Kn>m a photoKrnpli liy Nudar, TuriK.)
 
 ^ 
 
 e3# 
 
 
 JULIA ARTHUR. 
 
 
 ^c^^'i::;^ 
 
 IN circumstances conducive 
 to the full development 
 of her natural gifts. Miss Arthur 
 would become one of the great- 
 est actresses of this genera- 
 tion — the peer, I am almost 
 persuaded, of Madame Bern- 
 hardt and Signora Duse. 
 Under the conditions, though, 
 that have hitherto attended 
 the most notable period of her 
 stage career, and in the pe- 
 - ' culiar paltriness and mate 
 
 rialism that dominate the 
 theatre here and now, it is 
 possible that her fine talents 
 will dissipate in inconsiderable 
 achievements. How potent for ar- 
 tistic demoralization are these malefic forces is evident from 
 what they have wrought in the case of Miss Arthur. In innate 
 aptitude for superb accomplishments, as well as in the outer 
 essentials of theatric effectiveness, she is endowed no less richly 
 than any actress of her time, excepting not even the most splen- 
 did light of the French and of the Italian stage. Temperament — and with that an actress 
 may go far ! — she has to a degree that it pervades her entire manner and presence with a 
 sombre yet sympathetic magnetism. .\ seeming soulfulness — by no means hovering merely 
 on the sweeping lashes of a pair of midnight eyes — shines out in every feigned emotion to 
 which she gives e.xpression. With that quality alone there is little in the range of the ro- 
 mantic and heroic drama that a woman may not venture to attempt. When added to that 
 are certain physical excellencies such as Miss Arthur possesses, one is justified in the positive 
 assertion with which these comments begin. Her face is as lacking in prettiness as is Bern- 
 hardt's or Duse's, and it is likewise as impressively beautiful as cither's. A voice richer 
 in music and meaning is heard nowhere. If it be true that there is color in tone, then 
 one may look for gorgeous hues in that voice — for cardinal and scarlet and purple, the 
 hues, surelv, of romance and heroics. The qualities and qualifications of Aliss Arthur 
 are all the more interesting in their identity with those of the greatest artistes, because 
 of their unexpectedness. Temperament such as hers, a personality not only suggest- 
 ing but expressing the quality of tragedy, eyes such as hers, and beauty and voice like 
 hers, we associate somehow with meridional countries, with southern France and 
 Spain and Italy. To find them born under the chill, gray skies of a Canadian town 
 surprises us, and possibly makes us timid to recognize them for their full significance 
 and worth. But they are all there in the young woman whom we think of only as a 
 capable ■' leading lady," and 1, for my part, make bold to write of them as enthusiastic- 
 ally as if they had come from lands of story and sunshine. Of Miss Arthur's gifts one 
 should write the more unreservedly, because of the fact that they have been put to 
 such poor account and because the condemnable spirit that pervades the American 
 theatres threatens eventually to put them to nothingness. It was amazing to see in 
 her most recent performance, in a play called "Sister Mary, " the same faults that 
 marred her work in the days of her metropolitan apprenticeship. It tried one's 
 patience to find the same general crudeness of method, the same bungling em- 
 ployment of that magnificent voice, the same disregard of the value of detail. 
 The voice was persistently monotone, the whole impersonation monochrome, 
 with apparently a studied avoidance of light and shade. (Ine was tempted to 
 ask if, after all, there was anything there but temperament, resonant voice, and 
 great black eyes; and if laudatory insistence on these virtues had brought her 
 to rely solely on them for her effects ? That has happened to many of our 
 actors. It will not answer to attribute the stubborn blurs and blunders of Miss 
 Arthur's performances to want of intelligence or taste ; the reading of her lines 
 and the spirit of her conception of character indicate the possession of both in 
 an adequate degree. Where, then, is one to look for the source of her artistic 
 failings if not in the conditions and circumstances of her professional endeavors .' 
 She is a distinguished victim of the regrettable system pursued in the conduct 
 of the theatre of to-day : the system of incompetent instruction or no instruction 
 at all, of long runs and prolonged provincial tours, and of regard merely for the 
 criticism of the box office. We boast in the metropolis of the number of our 
 stock companies. As a matter of fact, we have several theatres employing 
 regularly a number of experienced actors indispensable to the production of 
 plays. The manager, assisted by London precedence, experiments until he has 
 found a play that will run for a year or two, and after its metropolitan popularity 
 is exhausted, the play, with the so-called stuck company, is sent into the provinces. If it catches the fancy of the provincials 
 it sojourns among them for a year or two — and that's the end of the stock company ! Something of this very sort happened, I 
 believe, to Miss .Arthur. She was a member of Mr. A. M. Palmer's stock company that produced '• Lady Windermere's Fan." 
 It was a charming play and pleased the town and country — the latter so much that the company remained away from New 
 York many months. In the ineantime i\lr. Palmer discovered the drawing power of six-daily-hints-from-Paris, a female im- 
 personator, and the living pictures. .And that's the end of ///s stock company I These are not conditions conducive to the full 
 development of artistic possibilities. Still Miss Arthur has temperament — and a woman may go far with that. 
 
 —4—
 
 
 (From a phntournph by Tlmm, Snn Francisco, Cal.)
 
 
 
 Boston Museum, was watching Joseph Jeffer- 
 son's performance of Bob Acres with an ex- 
 pression of intense amusement. " Remarkable piece of work, isn't it ? " 
 someone observed to Warren. "Yes, indeed," he returned, "a bnUiant 
 and fascinating impersonation — ' and Sheridan twenty miles away ' ! " So it 
 is with Mr. Robson's Dromio. The skill and imagination and person.nl 
 idiosyncrasies of the player have added so much to the suggestion of the 
 playwright, that the Dromio whom he presents to us is a fellow at once more 
 fantastic and realistic than the Dromio of Shakespeare. Doubtless it is some- 
 tliing in the nature of leze majesty to assert such things in connection with the 
 sovereign of dramatists; but it so frequently happens in the case of Shake- 
 speare — that actors get more out of his creations than he himself put in them. 
 Malvolio, for instance, is an inhnitely simpler character than some great actors 
 have represented him : merely a fellow of mild conceit who makes the blunder 
 of fancying that his mistress is in lo«6 with him. And yet learning and 
 philosophy have so exaggerated the significance of the character, that the actor 
 who would meet the popular expectation must endow Malvolio with a hundred 
 qualities that Shakespeare never dreamt of giving him. .And in the case of 
 Hamlet — think of the inhnity of investigation and ingenuity that has occupied 
 itself with the task of solving a problem that probably never existed in Shake- 
 speare's mind. .About a very unfortunate young man who comes home to dis- 
 cover a most shameful state of affairs in his household, and who in his woe and 
 perplexity acts pretty much as any other youth would do m the same circumstances, 
 there has been cast a halo of mysticism that, like a will-o'-the-wisp, has led many 
 great actors far afield from the truth as it existed in Shakespeare's mind. If 
 i\Ir. Robson has done something of the same sort in the case of Dromio of Svra- 
 cu-;e, he has achieved it largely by reason of certain personal peculiarities. Mr, 
 M.;ltzer, a critic of authority and, generally, of correct taste, recently described Mr. 
 Robson as a comedian with a squeak, implying that this vocal idiosyncrasy was the 
 h I a.'tor's chief equipment for his calling. Now, whatever mav be the objection of 
 
 <&» 1/ \ that squeak in other impersonations, it is certainly a most effective detail in Dromio. 
 
 To that role it adds an appropriate and distinctive feature, that may be as far away 
 from .Shakespeare as Jefferson's peculiarities are distant from Sheridan: but it is 
 none the less a delightful and valuable detail of significant illustration and illumina- 
 tiin. No Shakespearean impersonation of these days is more vividly impressed on 
 t le popular mind than this Dromio of liobson's. To a marvellous degree the actor 
 lias caught not so much the spirit of the English clown of the sixteenth century — 
 vvhich is the Dromio of Shakespeare — but of the slave of classic times, which is 
 I he slave of Plautus and of actuality. Robson's Dromio holds his quips and 
 quirks constantly in leash — as befits a slave. He is really a knowing fellow — as 
 ilie servitor of a man of the world like his master Antipholus should be — and it is 
 because of this evident knowingness that his patience in the midst of maddening 
 coiifusion and undeserved reproaches give a touch of genuine pathos to his comedy. 
 
 \i.^- ^ ' do not believe that Shakespeare ever intended Dromio of Syracuse to be anything 
 
 l)ut a clownish, fat-witted dolt, contributing the chief share to the broadly farcical 
 clement in "The Comedy of Errors." And for the fine vein of sympathy that 
 Mr. Robson puts into the character, for that perfection of comedy that takes on the 
 U f nature of real pathos, and for some splendidly illuminative detail of mannerism — among them the squeak 
 slighted by Mr. Meltzer — the dramatist is under obligations to the actor
 
 (Krom a pliotngraph by Snrnny, New York.)
 
 MELL GWYNNE lives again in the 
 
 person of Marie Tempest. P'roni 
 
 out of a past tinkling with tuneful poesy, 
 
 sparkling with the glory of palettes that limned only 
 
 beauty and grace, bubbling with the merriment and 
 
 gallantry of gay King Charlie's court, there trips down 
 
 to moderns a most convincing counterfeit of that piquant " ^ 
 
 creature. If one may tru.st imagination's ear, little Tempest 
 
 sings just as pretty Nell did : in the same tenuous, uncertain voice, with the same captiva- 
 ting tricks of tone, the same significant nuances, and the same amorous timbre. 
 Tempest talks just as Xell did, and walks with the same sturdy stride — there was 
 nothing niMicing about Xell — and. if one may trust to fancy's eye, she looks just 
 as Nell looked. I've seen Nell a hundred times, and so have you, dear reader. 
 The mere sight of that curt, pert, and jadish name — Nell Gwynne — calls up that 
 strangely alluring combination of features : the tip-tilted nose, the pouting lips, 
 the eyes of a drowsy Cupid, the confident, impudent poise of the head. None 
 of them fashioned to the taste of painter or sculptor, but forming in their unity a 
 face of teasing witchery. There is no record of Nell's artistic methods, of the 
 school of her mmietic performance, or of the style of her singing. All we know 
 of that sort of thing we must gather from the rhymes and rhapsodies of the poets. 
 Some of them wrote in prose, to be sure ; but they were poets for all that, and poets 
 are such an unreliable lot when it comes to judging such a girl as Nell. If she 
 had any art, though, I'll be bound it was like Tempest's. There is but one way to 
 '; be infinitely charming in the craft of the theatre — the eternal verities of art prevent 
 that it should be otherwise — and whatever devices of mimic mechanism Nell em- 
 ployed must have been those of her modern congener. But s/ie never studied in 
 Paris, some skeptic will say, and Tempest did ; how could Nell Gywnne have 
 mastered the lightness of touch, the exquisite refinement of gesture, the infinity 
 of significant byplay that constitute the distinctly Parisian method of Tempest? 
 To that I would answer that Tempest's method is not distinctly Parisian, that it is 
 not at all Parisian. She is a delightful artiste not because of her brief period of 
 Gallic training, but in spite of it. Elsewhere in this volume I have ventured an 
 opinion on the subject of what we have been taught to regard as the French school 
 of comic opera. That school, if we may judge of its academic principles and 
 practices by the performance of some of its most proficient graduates, has nothing 
 common with the methods of Tempest. Wanton wiles and indecent suggestion — 
 these are the essential features of that ridiculously lauded French school ; kicks and winks and ogling glances, postures of affected 
 languor, and convincing feints of vicious sophistication. Where, in all that, is to be found the simple graciousness, the 
 dainty, delicate, unobtrusive art of Marie Tempest ? To liken her to the garish product of that French school — as well liken 
 Corot's sensuous nymph of the wood to Bougereau's sensual nymph of the bath I For my own part. I don't believe Tempest 
 belongs to any school, or if she does, it is a school of which she is at once mistress and sole pupil. Indeed, it may be doubted 
 whether instruction or training has any considerable part in the charm of such a player. There are women of infinitely better 
 method — not manner — of singing and of acting; women with whom Nature has dealt far more carefully and generously in beauty 
 of face and of figure; women even in no degree inferior to Tempest in innate allurement. But this little Englishwoman, with 
 her s7vUt: form and her bewitching face of ugly features, her tricky voice that always makes one think of a thrush that has 
 caught a cold, her impertinences and patronizing ways with her audience, has about her a vague, elusive something that 
 makes of her the most fetching personality of the comic opera stage. 
 
 - 8-
 
 (From a copyright photograph by Sarony, New \ork
 
 "*-•* -^ i?s. 
 
 
 kV 
 
 N. C. GOODWIN. 
 
 COMEWHERE I have met with a play that was written by Moliere— a play in which the principal character 
 was Monsieur Molici^f, and in which that character of Monsieur Moliere was unpersonated by Moliere. 
 At this moment I cannot recall the great dramatist's particular purpose in such an egoistic enterprise, but I 
 remember that when I chanced upon the musty little brochure, the thought occurred to me that if Mr. N. C. 
 Goodwin were a dramatist he would do that very sort of thing. He might not go to the extreme to which 
 Moliere ventured and call the hero of the play by his own name ; but that hero would be Mr. N. C. Goodwin 
 in all the essential details of character, or outward expression of character, in manner and in mannerism. Moliere's 
 feat was less audacious and immodest than it might seem at first glance. He was immenselv popular with the 
 playgoers of his day — not only as a dramatic author, but as an actor. By part of the same token, Mr. Goodwin 
 would be justified if he were to imitate the deed of the famous Frenchman. He is certainly one of the most popu- 
 lar actors of the day. one of the most enthusiastically applauded by the general, and. conserjuently. one of the most 
 prosperous in the monetary sense of the word. I state those facts in the superlative way in order that any sub- 
 sequent remarks I may choose to make of Mr. Goodwin and his work may not be misconstrued as to their 
 purpose and intention. Let it be granted, too, that Mr. Goodwin has personality and. also, individuality. These 
 are the qualities on which his admirers most strenuously insist. The especial and distinctive virtue of these 
 attributes in connection with thespian achievements has never been quite clear in my mind. They are by no 
 means rare or utterly distinctive virtues. It will occur to anyone who gives the matter the least consideration 
 that every person has personality, just as most individuals have individuality. What is meant, doubtless, by those 
 who prate of the particular personality in reference, is that it is pleasing to a large number of playgoers. And 
 in view of .Mr. Goodwin's prosperity, there may be no gainsaying that fact. But that it constitutes the 
 alpha and omega of merit 1 beg leave to doubt. Mr. Goodwin, however, is apparently of another 
 opinion. He believes himself completely winning and, naturally, he refrains from eliminating 
 any detail, be it never so trivial, from the effective entirety. No matter how obvious and inevi- 
 table may be the characteristics and idiosyncracies of the impersonation in hand, he declines to 
 attempt any complete differentiation from his own. In this he is much like that 
 Mr. \Villard who toui ;d this country recently. Possibly, the exigencies of a star 
 career compel this sort of thing — this persistent preservation of features and man- 
 nerisms that have proved themselves of "drawing" potency. For instance, 
 Mr. Goodwin must have known, when he prepared himself for the star role of 
 •'In Mizzoura," that no Missouri .Sheriff ever went with clean-shaved face. The 
 bandit-like mustache of the Western constabulary is a classic detail not only in 
 fiction, but in fact — just as much as the pointed beard is a hall-mark of a \'an- 
 dyke. The instance cited is, perhaps, trivial, and I should have hesitated to 
 employ it were it not that it so vividly illustrates my meaning. And, indeed, it is 
 all the more pertinent and permissible because of its triviality. Certain ingrained 
 liabits and manners an actor, be he never so conscientious and well intentioned, 
 may not be able to rid himself of. But that he should wittingly refuse such 
 adscititious aids to illusion as are ])rovided by the rudest mechanism of his craft — 
 that is certainly open to blame. And that he should studiously project into his 
 mimetic essavs individual and purely personal qualities — qualities of which he 
 has acquired an exaggerated esteem, through the flattery of friends and the 
 eulogy of indiscriminating criticism — that I hold to be honestly condeni- 
 nable. From .Mr. Goodwin's popularity with the general body of theatre- 
 goers it would be unfair and futile to seek to detract an iota. But that he 
 is an actor capable of merging his individuality into that of the character 
 he would portray; that he possesses that mystic gift of illusion that consti- 
 tutes the very essence of the dramatic art ; that he is, in short, an actor in 
 the sense that Mr. Mansfield is an actor, or Mr. E. J. Henley, or Mr. W. H. 
 Thompson — that, I submit, is a matter of which much may be said on both sides.
 
 dr.. in .. |,l...i...;..M.Ii l.y >..i..iiv, N. » N..rk.)
 
 
 'FHE mantle of no past mistress of the scenic art has fallen upon the shoul- 
 ders of Eleonora Duse. For her the Muses have fashioned a virgin 
 vestment, of texture more delicate, of grace more exquisite, in fancy richer 
 than any that ever yet adorned a woman of the stage. While Bernhardt 
 but renews the traditions of Rachel — adding, perhaps, a refinement of 
 method, and illuminating them with an intelligence more subtle, a 
 temperament more sensitive than those of her predecessors — Eleo- 
 "^ nora Duse discovers to us that rarest quality of genius, the gen- 
 
 ius of surprise. Some, dreading the conviction of their idol's sub- 
 ordination, would deceive themselves and us that this new deity is of another 
 cult : they seek consolation in the pretension that Bernhardt and Duse are of 
 J different schools, and that whatever superiority contemporary criticism may 
 adjudge the Italian springs rather from the method of art, of which slu- is 
 the exponent, than from any finer quality in the artiste herself. The subter- 
 fuge is pathetic, but paltry. It is an oft-used shift of inferiority to evade the proof 
 and penalty of surpassed excellence. One may question, indeed, whether, in the nice 
 discrimination of the day in all that pertains to theatric art, there could exist schemes and systems of dramatic impersonation 
 distinctly varied, and yet deserving of equal regard. Granting even the possibility of this indecisive criticism, the truth remains 
 that the twain of comediennes in reference tread in identically the same path of mimetic method : they both strive, along the 
 same course, for the same goal. But the race has gone to the Italian; she outstrips her Gallic rival with such facility and 
 felicity that amazement invents fanciful conditions to account for the startling defeat. We had not supposed that ingenuity of 
 intelligence or faculty of dramatic invention could go beyond the " business " with which Bernhardt indicated the phthisical 
 ailment of CamiUe. To touch the lips, in constant question, with a limp kerchief, positively took on the dignity of a classic in 
 the traditions of the stage. The hectic Hush of Clara Morris, the hacking cough of Modjeska, at once discovered their mean- 
 ness in the presence of the cambric contrivance of the French actress. With that square of flaxen fabric, Bernhardt was 
 deemed to have floated into the empyrean of histrionic perfection, and, henceforth, every Camille was measured by the com- 
 parative skill with which she employed the pregnant handkerchief. Her rank in the dominant school of realism was determined 
 very largely by the degree of frequency and alarm with which she touched the linen to her ashen lips. Because the Italian 
 actress, with an artistic sense vastly beyond that of the Frenchwoman, with a cunning infinitely finer, with an elaboration of 
 method grander, a faculty of expression endlessly more varied than Bernhardt's, contrives to token the wasting ailment of 
 Camille without resort to the vulgar mechanism in allusion, we are told, with something of an air, that she is of another school! 
 With every fresh example of Duse's capabilities and manner, it becomes more evident that the reason of the amazing difference 
 in the performance of the two women r.ust be sought elsewhere than in any fancied variance in their schemes and modes of 
 dramatic portrayal; it lies in the artistes themselves. Temper, not training; mind, not method; soul, not system, have pre- 
 vailed to advance the Italian to heights not dreamed of in the art philosophy of the other. Bernhardt did, indeed, attain the 
 approximate perfection po.ssible to any talent not born of mere inspiration. In anger, she was the hissing serpent whose glance 
 is stunning and whose touch is death. In hate, she was the snarling tigress; the incarnation of rampant ferocity. In love — 
 the love of which she could know — Bernhardt brought into play the tireless lust, the seductive languor, the entrancing enervation 
 of her Oriental blood, and added thereto all the wiles and witchcraft of the practiced courtesan. In the d splay of the deeper 
 emotions, the stronger passions, Duse surpasses the Parisian no less utterly than in the expression of the softer, sweeter senti- 
 ments of humanity. In Bernhardt's wrathful anger there is always the suggestion of the termagant; Duse seems the enraged 
 Juno. Bernhardt's jealousy always hints of the slighted wanton : Duse's of offended womanhood. Bernhardt piqued is a 
 snappish shrew; Duse a proud spirit tortured. Bernhardt counterfeits grief admirably; Duse is grief itself. And yet, I repeat, 
 the methods employed by the two actresses are identical in kind: their difference is only in degree. In the instance of Bern- 
 hardt the infinity of niceties and devices, ingenious, elaborate though they be and at times even e.squisite, are ever and obviously 
 tricks and counterfeits. Duse imparts to these same passes of mimicry a mystic, elusive quality that merges them into reality 
 beyond suspicion. In truth, the Italian conceals her art so completely and securely that one is tempted often to doubt whether 
 it is by art that she accompli>hes her magic of dramatic deception. One recalls Monsieur Taine's comment on the genius of 
 Shakespeare — a genius, in his opinion, independent of circumstance, unconscious of environment, or law, or rule; evolving its 
 marvels from pure imagination.
 
 nose and a pair of Grecian legs, \ 
 he would have made a tragedian of ^ 
 himself. For a long time, indeed, he 
 contemplated defying the traditions of 
 the stage in regard to these details, and pur- 
 posed to woo the tragic Muse despite her known 
 objection to waywardness in the features men- 
 tioned. I'robablv, Mr. Wilson still cherishes 
 the confidence that his talents would have gone best in the heroic 
 buskin; just as Sarah Siddons maintained to the end of her days that 
 she was the greatest comic singer in the world, a notion that was fully 
 shared and actively encouraged by her brother, the mighty John Philip 
 Kemble. It would seem, at the first glance, that Mr. Wilson has fallen far 
 out of the line of his natural theatric inclination, as he conceived it ; but in 
 reality he hasn't. Being funny is serious business — very serious, indeed. To 
 make the world, or any considerable part of it, laugh and grow fat is no joke. 
 It is a mighty responsibility, rather, that one undertakes; a task pregnant with 
 tragic consequences if it be done avi'kwardly and unsuccessfully. For if there 
 is anyone to be pitied more than the tragedian who is laughed at, it is the 
 comedian who is not. There is a notion prevalent that the funny man need 
 only be himself in order to excite the risibilities of his auditors. liut, in point of 
 fact, great comedians are generally sad and sombre fellows. You know the 
 story of the irresistible Grimaldi. During his unprecedented vogue in London, 
 it became the fashion for physicians to send hypochondriacs and dyspeptics to 
 the witty clown's performances, in the firm belief that a cure would ensue. One 
 day a famous practitioner received a patient who appeared to be in the last stages 
 nf melancholia. "The Black Devils have got hold of you," the physician said, 
 after hearing his caller's symptoms; "you need to be taken out of yourself. You 
 go and see Grimaldi." ".\las," came the sombre response, "/am Grimaldi." 
 There are, doubtless, men on the stage peculiarly gifted with a quality of infectious 
 humor, simple in its composition and vet defying analysis; working without rule or 
 method, and dependent entirely for effect on the sympathy of the audience. Such a 
 man was the late Mr. Charles Reed, whose merest utterance, without any appar- 
 ent device of vocal inflection or accent, without any attempt at facial illustration 
 or gesture of any sort, would set the house a-roaring. Mr. Peter Dailey and Mr. 
 Otis Harlan also occur to me, at the moment, as possessors of this crude but 
 effective faculty. That it is capable of refined development for the higher uses 
 of the theatre has not been proved, though I believe Mr. A\'il]iam Winter has 
 proclaimed that the art of the minstrel Charles Backus — who, like the others 
 mentioned, had but to open his mouth to make people hold their sides — was not 
 essentially different from that of M. Coquelin. It is quite another matter when 
 one comes to consider the humor of Mr. Francis Wilson. Here it is evident 
 always to the student of his methods and effects that nothing is left to chance; 
 nothing to the mirthful sympathy of his audience. Wilson brings to his work 
 in comic opera the care of the student as well as the spirit of the artist. The 
 enunciation of every line indicates discrimination and a nice sense of comic propor- 
 tion. He would seem to have investigated the anatomy of merriment, as Burton did that of melancholy, and to have learned 
 every muscle, joint, and nerve in the make-up of jollity. The seeming spontaneity of his humor only proves the more the 
 thoroughness of his mechanism. He is something more than the buffoon and clown : he is a character actor. Therein lies 
 the chief source of his superiority over other performers of his kind. To all legitimate intents and purposes, Wilson's Cadeaux 
 would be ju;>t as effective in a dramatic performance as in the surroundings of comic opera. In all the essential virtues of 
 consistency, illusion, and appropriate detail, it is an impersonation to the last degree dramatic. .And the same holds true of 
 his Merry Monarch, Lion Tamer, and other characterizations. They are intelligently conceived and skillfully wrought-out 
 impersonations : the works of an actor, not of a mere minstrel. Mr. Wilson owes much of his popularity and prosperit; 
 to the fun that was born in him ; but all that is best in his achievements he owes to the zealous and intelligent care with 
 which he has imparted to his work qualities that do not ordinarily attach to endeavors of comic opera. 
 
 — 14—
 
 r 
 
 m 
 
 
 (From a phnUtjiraph by (".in>c-it & timon, Pliiladclphin, Pa.)
 
 
 ^ 
 
 BERTHA WALTZINCxER. 
 
 A THEATRICAL enterprise like that conducted by the Messrs. 
 Barnabee, Karl, and MacDonald serves an excellent purpose be- 
 yond the primary one of providing public entertainment. There is 
 no subventioned theatre where individual talent is more promptly recog- 
 nized, more zealously assisted and encouraged than in the opera com- 
 pany of The ISostonians. From its ranks have come such pleasing and 
 skillful artistes as Geraldine Ulmer and Zelie De Lussan, both of whom 
 subsequently put to excellent advantage in foreign capitals the fine training 
 and experience gleaned in the company of The Bostonians. From the success 
 that has attended the brief career of Bertha Waltzinger as a member of the 
 organization mentioned, it would seem as if she were destined to follow in the 
 fortunate footsteps of former prima donnas of The Bostonians. She certainly 
 has made astonishing progress in public notice and in professional consideration 
 within the comparatively few months of her stage career. It is to be presumed, 
 too, that she has advanced correspondingly in proficiency in her calling. Her rapid 
 accession to roles of the first importance, in a cast as scrupulous and well equipped as 
 that of The Bostonians, would clearly indicate as much. Miss Waltzinger's first essay 
 with that company was in the part of Annabel in "Robin Hood." So brilliantly did 
 she acquit herself that she was presently intrusted with the dignity of Maid Marian. 
 The management of The Bostonians evidently had the fullest confidence in Miss 
 Waltzinger's ability to carry off successfully any role that might fall to her, for during 
 their last important engagement in New York she was called upon to create such 
 diverse parts as the excessively-knowing Primrose and the prim and prudish Priscilla 
 in the opera of " Maid of Plymouth." In these roles, as in the role of Marian, Miss 
 Waltzinger seems to have evinced unusual gifts as an actress and to have won distin- 
 guished favor as much by reason of dramatic aptitude as through the possession of a 
 voice of delicious quality and wide range. I write of Miss Waltzinger from hearsay 
 from the published opinions of many critics of consideration. Unfortunately, I have 
 missed the pleasure of seeing and hearing this young woman, of whose genuinely artistic work, 
 however, I am convinced by the singular unanimity of the commentators on her work. Each 
 appears to find some especial grace or attainment to commend, and all agree in according 
 her a voice of sympathetic timbre, employed with taste and precision. Mr. Huneker, a 
 critic for whose judgment 1 have the highest esteem, includes in Miss \\'altzinger's attributes 
 " excellent stage presence, ... a high soprano voice of great compass and sweet- 
 ness, . . . and the additional advantage of a decided histrionic talent." Another 
 critic, whose evidently untempered enthusiasm makes me hesitate to quote his judgment, 
 says: "Miss Waltzinger has come forward with astonishing rapidity — with too much 
 rapidity, perhaps, to allow either her vocal or dramatic genius its utmost possible display. 
 ISut her versatility and chic, her strong passion, expressive gesture and countenance, the 
 enthusiasm which fires her method, and her admirable technique are the main factors of 
 popular light opera, and when combined, as they are, with a pure, full, and flexible soprano, 
 make up an equipment such as is possessed by few operatic singers in this country. Miss 
 Waltzinger belongs to the select fellowship of American artistes, for whom D'Oyly Carte, 
 of the London Savoy, has always shown a professional penchant." It must not be 
 supposed that all these good things came to Miss Waltzinger by mere chance. Rather 
 are they the results of several years of trying and devoted study and a persistent determina- 
 tion to hold to that which is true in her art. What is to become of this fine spirit now 
 that Miss Waltzinger is to join a burlesque conipaiiy — the one headed by Mr. De Wolf 
 Hopper! — I should not care to prophesy. 
 
 — 1 6—
 
 (From a phoioj^rnph by Prince, <•( New V.trk.i
 
 pOR many years the leading men of American theatres of the first 
 rank have been Englishmen ; but let us hasten to add that that 
 is a mere accident or coincidence, wholly without genuine significance. 
 I feel quite safe in asserting that Mr. Daniel Frohman, of the Lyceum 
 Theatre, in selecting Mr. Herbert Kelcey for the position of leading man in 
 his school of players, was moved in no degree to this choice by the circum- 
 stance of the actor's British nativity. No more was Mr. I'almer prompted bj 
 Anglican partiality when he placed Mr. Maurice Barrymore or Mr. E. J. Henley 
 at the head of his once admirable organization. It is a mere play of chance, 
 too, that an Englishman leads the company at Mr. Charles Frohman's Empire 
 Theatre. The late Lester Wallack openly expressed his preference for London 
 bred actors, and to his confessed prejudice the public was indebted for the im- 
 portation of a memorable line of leading men. But in the case of the managers 
 of to-day, I repeat my conviction that the circumstance that their leading men 
 are Englishmen is without meaning. In point of unintermitted service, Mr. Kel- 
 cey is the doyen of the leading men of the metropolis, having played in New York 
 for ten or twelve successive seasons. His first appearance here was in the melo- 
 drama, "Taken P'rom Life," done at Wallack's in 1882. He had prominent roles in 
 the productions of " Lights o' London " and "Youth " at the same theatre, and was 
 the Count Orloff in the brilliant performance of Sardou's "Diplomacy," a performance 
 which in distinction of ensemble has never been surpassed in this country. From Wallack's 
 Mr. Kelcey went to the Madison Square Theatre. His most important work, however, 
 has been done at the Lyceum Theatre, of which he has been the leading man since 1887. 
 The complete success that attended a certain kind of plays — plays abounding in what is com- 
 monly deemed "heart interest," but what is really arrant bathos and puerile, mawkish senti- 
 mentality — threw both the managerial policy and ihe mimetic manner of this theatre into a 
 rut from which the public seemed unwilling that they should emerge. One had begun to 
 despair for example of ever seeing Mr. Kelcey in any role other than that of a grieving 
 husband or a doubting lover. Hut, finally, Mr. Frohman determined that his clientage 
 should have something new. .A fig for their prejudices, and as much for the traditions 
 of his theatre! To that decision we owe the production of Fmero's ".■\mazons," and 
 the most exquisite comedy presentation of recent years. Mr. Kelcey 's Lord Litterly 
 made us forget all about the tearful husband of " The Wife " and the dominie of " The 
 Charity Ball. " The part fitted him like a Pool coat ; he was the confident, debonair 
 e.xquisite of the London variety to the very life, with just enough of well-bred rakishness 
 '' to top it off nicely. Mr. Kelcey's admirers can never be sufiiciently grateful to Mr. 
 
 Pinero for having written " The Amazons " — I don't know what a few more " heart interest " plays would have done for him 
 as well as the others of the Lyceum company. 
 
 The monotony of his characterizations was beginning to pall even on those who find most to praise in his work. But, per- 
 haps, it is only fair to suggest that this fault may have been due in part to the persistent sameness of the roles he was called 
 upon to interpret. At any rate, he contrived to throw off much of what seemed an ingrained mannerism when he essayed 
 lately the part of Carew in "A W'olt in Sheep's Clothing." It was a virile, if not vigorous, impersonation, and one into which 
 the actor projected far less of h'S own personality than has been his wont. 
 
 In Lord Litterly, again, he had, apparently, but to let himself go in order to realize fully Mr. Pintro's idea of the character. 
 For parts of this sort Mr. Kelcey is peculiarly qualified, both by nature and, it is to be presumed, by breeding. 
 
 In appearance, carriage, and manner — in this last, even to the nice employment of vocal devices — Mr. Kelcey is convincingly 
 like the high-bred, self-compl.-cent, ea.sy-going man of fashion that the author had in mind when he set out to picture a fellow 
 who should storm and capture, politely hut firmly, the heart of the queen of "The .Amazons." 
 Apropos, I believe Mr. Kelcey was originally intended for the Guards. 
 
 -18-
 
 (I'roin u pliotogmph by iNirony, Ni-w \ i>i'k >
 
 
 w 
 
 of 
 he 
 
 EFFIE SHANNON. 
 
 IT was the poet Herrick, I believe, who Hkened each 
 of his admirations to some dehcious blossom. If 
 the conceit were not so distinctly his own, 1 should like 
 to say that Elfie Shannon always suggests to me a spray 
 of peach buds. There is something so faintly pink and ten- 
 der and dewy about the young woman who for three or four 
 years played the. iiij^etuw roles at JNIr. Daniel Frohman's Ly- 
 ceum Theatre. .She played them very well, too. and to the 
 complete satisfaction of the generally fastidiou-i clientage of 
 what is in many respects the best conducted theatre in Amer- 
 ica. As to the roles themselves, they were — well, they were 
 5 y excellent models of what has for some time been the classic />;- 
 
 >- !^e'/i!/i' in the theatre m this country: the pouting, puttering, gig- 
 
 gling young woman, whom the dramatist directs to do all sorts of silly, 
 fresh, and froward things, from crushing the presumptuous villain, to coaxing 
 an avowal from the bashful idiot whom the exigencies of the plot compel 
 her to marry in the last act. O! a wonderful creation is this iitgcnue, 
 whom several of the most popular playwrights of the day have evolved 
 from their virgin imaginations. The like of her is not to be met, in real 
 life, in any land known to man. Lately there have been signs of a pass- 
 ing of this nondescript of fictitious femininity, this torturing of sweet six- 
 teen into a companion piece of Simple Simon ; for which the Destinies give 
 joy to the playniakers I 
 
 When Mr. Frohman's admirable theatre broke away from the school of 
 plays for which New York playgoers evinced for a time a stubborn pre- 
 dilection. Miss Shannon came into opportunities of showing her real worth. 
 1 recall particularly her neatly drawn and vigorously e.xecuted performance of 
 A'iolet .Armitage in •• Nerves," and her skillful treatment of Kate Merriweather 
 in "The Idler." To the impersonation of Meg in "Lady Bountiful." and to 
 that of Hetty Thorpe in "Squire Kate," she brought the qualities of sentiment 
 and poesy with which, if one may judge from physical attributes, she is gener- 
 ously endowed. Notwithstanding these evidences of fine dramatic capacity, 1 
 confess that I was surprised to see the strength and certainty of Miss Shannon's 
 Dora in Sardou's matchless "Diplomacv. " Unfortunately, 1 have seen none of 
 the famous Doras of stage tradition, but it is not easy to fancy how in point, mere- 
 ly, of winsomeness and true ingenue intent they could have materially surpassed 
 Miss Shannon's impersonation. Before joining Mr. Daniel Frohman's company, 
 ' Miss Shannon hid her light under the bushel of .Augustiii Daly's theatre — that 
 
 bushel on which sit so heavily Mr. Daly and his gifted leading lady. Her most recent 
 appearance in a metropolitan production of considerable interest was in "A Woman 
 No Importance," the polylogue that Oscar Wilde tried so hard to make completely and consistently indecent, a task in which 
 certainly succeeded to a degree calculated to satisfy the most vicious.
 
 % 
 
 % ^ 
 
 m 
 
 •••^ 
 
 (rr.iin a |>liol..>;rapli by Siirciiy, New Vnrli.)
 
 (/, CHAKESPEARE is no longer the fashion. Actors 
 a' and managers recognize the hopelessness of the ; 
 
 ^ attempt to win laurels of bay and of gold from urban 
 "* communities through the medium of the master drama- 
 , list's works, except m extraordinary circumstances. Henry 
 ' lr\ing, of course, will be instantly cited in contradiction 
 of this statement. But the concluding words — " in extra- 
 ordinary circumstances " — fully explain the seeming e.x- 
 ception. 'Ihe success of the Englishman in the direction 
 indicated is due quite as much to the spectacular quality of hi.s 
 productions as to the merits of his own performances. He is 
 not only an extremely interesting actor, but he is also a most 
 ingenious showman. A combination of the two is required, 
 repeat, to conmiand the admiration of most playgoers in thi 
 
 chief centres of theatrical activity. It was because Edwin "^ — 
 
 Booth disregarded the attendant details of his .Shakespearean 
 
 presentations in the matter of supporting cast, scenery, trappings, and other adjuncts of spec- 
 tacular effect, that his latter efforts met with decreased patronage and blunt blame. For much 
 the same reason has Mr. Keene failed to command his deserts as a consistent, intelligent, and 
 k'coted protagonist of Shakespearean tnigedy. In his persistent fealty to that " old school " 
 ihat made little account of the pageantry of the stage, Mr. Keene has missed opportunities that 
 would have compelled even frivolous criticism to accord him his due place m the splendid realm 
 of tragic acting. That he is a player of the very first order, I would not assert. Indeed, at 
 times he has blundered egregiously. His Richard III., for instance, made the judicious both 
 to grieve and to laugh — so extreme was it in its grotesque outlines and crude coloring. But 
 one error of this sort does not take from an actor his essential competency and superiority in 
 other roles. Mr. Irving's Romeo, for instance, was one of the tragic jokes of contemporary 
 stage history. I believe, however, that in Mr. Keene's own opinion, whatever of lasting fame 
 may come to him by virtue of his lingering in a held of endeavor that has been abandoned by 
 ilmost every .American actor save himself, will rest on his impersonation of the Crook-back. 
 This notion probably arises from the inordinate popularity of his impersonation among less 
 sophisticated and more robust plavgoers of the provinces. There the measured strut and rhythmic 
 rant of the "old school," the noise and turmoil and sputtering violence are still in favor. And 
 who shall decree that they are utterly wrong ? There were men and women of taste and erudi- 
 tion before the end of the nineteenth century, and record and tradition attest that they applauded 
 to the echo the very methods that we smile at, some of us. in Mr. Keene. It is largely personal 
 fancy and prevailing custom that set up the standards of theatrical perfection. At the moment 
 caprice runs to quiet effect and suppressed emotion — convenient phr.ise ! When the hero is called upon to denounce his best 
 friend for some deed of ineffable treachery, we would have him do it in dainty epigram and while engaged in rolling a cigarette 
 or adjusting his dinner cravat. Or if he is offering choice of arms to his mortal foe, on field of battle or duelling ground, we 
 expect him to do it in much the same tone of voice that he would employ in asking him if he'll have ice in his ordinaire. 
 The faults most usually found in Mr. Keene's Richard are by no means so conspicuous in his other chief impersonations. His 
 Hamlet is a much more finished creation, and creation it is — in so far as divergence from precedent and stage tradition can 
 make it. His Shylock is impressive, well colored, and full of character. His Othello is picturesque and virile, though lacking 
 in subtle shading in the earlier acts — a fault atoned for in a measure by the strength of the sombre fatalism with which he 
 envelops the character after the death of Uesdemona. His further repertory includes Richelieu, Macbeth, Bertuccio, Claude 
 Melnotte, Romeo, and Louis .\1.
 
 (Krom ;i i.||.ilo>;r;iph l.y l:iik.r, I ..liniiluis. 1 Mil...)
 
 JULIA ^lARLOWi:. 
 
 is an interesting and suggestive fact 
 that Julia Marlowe does not venture to tilt her 
 talents against the prejudices and frivolities of the metro- 
 politan stage. " 1 should so much like to appear in New York," 
 the actress said recently, with pathetic frankness; "but they won't have me 
 there." In almost all of the other chief cities of the United States the advent 
 of Miss Marlowe is one of the genuine events of the play season; but in New 
 York the critics either flout her efforts or write of them patronizingly. As 
 for the public — on the sparse occasions that the actress has bid for their favor 
 or consideration — they have passed her by with .scant encouragement and im- 
 material patronage. One may state these truths bluntly and unreservedly be- 
 cause they are so infinitely to the discredit of the taste of New York and so 
 utterly wanting in significance as to the real merits of Miss Marlowe's per- 
 formances. There is something droll and mirthful in the conceit of a com- 
 munity turning up its nose at gifts so rare and gracious as those of Miss 
 Marlowe. \Vhere, here and now, is to be found the peer of this actress in 
 Shakespearean impersonations ? She may be lacking in the physical pulchritude 
 that gave to Adelaide Neilson a touch of divinity; in majesty of port and in 
 classic severity of style she wants the splendid impressiveness that belonged 
 to Mary Anderson; the e.xquisite intelligence and nice mechanism that in- 
 formed Modjeska's work in other days are less conspicuously present in Miss 
 Marlowe's. And yet, in spite of these deficiencies, she stands notably beyond 
 even the very front line of the most brilliant of the mediocrities who wculd 
 laim equal rank with her. 1 spoke in thi.s strain recently to a friend of niirf — 
 a critic of fine reputation and consideraBle worth as well — and when he sccfftd 
 airily at my enthusiasm, I silenced him by asking him to point out another 
 artiste in the American theatre who so nearly approached real greatness. 
 He admitted, by the bye, that Sara Bernhardt had e.xpressed the opinion 
 that in Marlowe the .-Xmerican stage possessed an actress of marvellcus 
 promise. Now I would not be understood as deeming the subject of these 
 lines entitled to unqualified commendation. As yet, indeed. Miss Marlowe 
 has by no means exceeded the promise of the very first years of her high 
 endeavors, even if she has appro-\iinately fulfilled it. Either through want 
 of courage on her own part, or through lack of enterprise on the part of her 
 exploiters, she has not made the hazard of new creations. Nor has she 
 even traversed the entire way trod and beaten by her immediate predeces- 
 sors. Beyond the cut and dried repertory of Juliet, Rosalind, Pauline, 
 lulia, \'iola, Parthenia, and Galatea, she has not ventured. She has not as yet contributed to the 
 thespian annals of her time one such glorious impersonation as Mary Anderson bequeathed to the 
 stage in Perdita — that wondrous vision of intelligence, grace, and sentiment that must forever bide 
 in memory as a creation in art that took on tfie dignity of an inspiration. Miss Marlowe is still comparatively young — probably 
 not more than thirty years of age. But she must be up and doing. The race of talent has become intense; the runners tread 
 on each other's heels. Woe to those who stop to tie their shoe strings — to change Mr. Carlyle's phrase. Not only has this 
 actress of superb possibilities neglected to create new roles or to add a fresh glory to worn ones: she has not materially im- 
 proved her impersonation of those that she essayed in the very beginning of her career- Tender, dainty, sympathetic, and 
 adequately magnetic she has been always. Correct taste and an apparently keen intelligence were noticeable in that matinee 
 performance of Parthenia in which she first made a tentative presentation before a New York audience some seven years ago. 
 But, much as I admire Miss Marlowe, and an.xious as I am that merits like hers should take their rightful precedence in oo] ular 
 esteem and material reward before the artful pretensions, affectations, and outriglit meretricities of some stagers, both of native 
 and foreign origin — whom New York does not refuse to "have" — yet in honesty must I declare that, in my opinion, she has 
 profited by her experience and prosperity in the provinces only in a disappointing degree. In her Rosahnd, in her Juliet, Par- 
 thenia, and Julia, there is still the curse of imitation — unconscious, possibly, but still imitation. The odor of the midnight oil 
 may not hang about her work — it is facile, smooth, confident to an extent that almost convinces one of its spontaneity — but 
 there does inhere the tang of instruction — one still detects the thumb marks of the taskmaster. 
 
 \6
 
 (1 I, .in .1 |,h..i...:,,,|.|, 1.1 1 .1,1,, N. « \ ...k
 
 VV/HEX the author of " Held by the Enemy " was 
 gathering what he deemed the properest cast 
 for the production of his play, he selected Charles 
 Dickson for the role of Bean, the war correspondent. 
 Mr. Dickson was at that time an actor of slight e.xpe- 
 ■ience and no particularly noteworthy achievement; but 
 Mr. Gilletie considered that the youth's natural breeziness 
 of manner, quick intelligence, and brisk mode of speech cut 
 him out for the comedy element of the piece. The event 
 ', roved the correctness of his judgn-.ent, for Mr. Dickson prompt- 
 ly scored a hit. The war correspondent of the stage is never 
 anything like the war correspondent of the field — not in the least 
 ike — but neither dramatists, actors, or the public are aware of 
 that, and Mr. Dickson's Bean was accepted antl applauded 
 as an unusually verisimilar characterization. His clever- 
 ness won for him a considerable amount of popularity, 
 and when Mr. Frohman formed the company of the Ly- 
 ceum Theatre, he chose him for the position of light come- 
 dian. As Jack Dexter in "The Wife," Mr. Dickson had 
 . a part that the authors of the play probably devised espe- 
 cially for him. His impersonation of the tvpical — stage 
 typical, of course — young collegian pleased the town vast- 
 -X ly; ana, in truth, one does not often see a more amusing 
 ' bit than the scene in which Mr. Dickson and Miss Dillon, 
 I think it was, got into trouble because of the smoked 
 glass through which they were to view an approaching 
 solar eclipse. Mr. Dickson's seemingly independent suc- 
 cess induced him to make the hazard of a stellar career, 
 and for the past few seasons he has been travelling througfi 
 the country as a star with varying but doubtless-satisfac- 
 tory orosperity. For two seasons, indeed, he headed an 
 entertainment of marked popular attractiveness. "In- 
 cog," the title of the play in reference, was by no means a 
 piece in which consistency was sacrificed to the advantage of 
 the star; but it gave Mr. Dickson ample opportunity for the 
 exercise of his especial qualities. During the past year he Dro- 
 duced several new comedies — "Admitted to the Bar" and "Wil- 
 lie " among them — but none of them contained a role that enabled 
 Air. Dickson to repeat his former successes. It is proba'oly on the cards, though, that he 
 will eventually attain a place of the first distinction among the comedians of the day. He 
 certainly has the comedy sense developed to an unusual degree; he possesses a considerable 
 command over the risibilities of his audience, and he is, best of all. scrupulously careful in the proper employment of every de- 
 tail that could add to the effectiveness of his performance. 
 
 -:(=,-
 
 
 ^J 
 
 (Fmin .1 phoioyntph Iiy Uiikrr, rnhiinhii!*. *>hin.)
 
 1-|AI) it 
 Ettie 
 
 ELLSLER. 
 
 not been for " Hazel Kirke," 
 Ellsler would, in all probability, 
 occupy a niucti prouder position in the 
 world of the theatre than that with which 
 she has apparently contented herself. Her 
 amentable success in the title role of that play 
 of mawkish sentimentality — a role that she act- 
 ed almost without intermission for three years, 
 and which she abandoned only upon the impera- 
 demand of her physician I — lured her from at- 
 j tempting heights to which she had every right and reason 
 
 to aspire. The inordinately prolonged identification with the 
 one part must necessarily have stunted the development of 
 talents innately fine, and seriously have hampered the play of 
 temperamental processes. If only the double stage and the 
 cooling machines of the Madison .Square Theatre had refused 
 to work; or if the relentless miller had uttered his melodramatic 
 curse less effectively; or if Miss Ellsler's physician, in a mo- 
 ment of inspiration, had divined the ultimate effect of that curse on 
 her nerves a year or two before the crises actually came — what a 
 wealth of delightful creations Miss Ellsler might, and in all likeli- 
 hood would, have contributed to the stage. She started under the 
 most favoring of all conditions for one of her calling : she was born 
 of theatrical parents. She knew much of her craft before she was 
 born. She was bred in the atmosphere of the playhouse, breathed in 
 her childhood the air of the theatre, in a horizon bound by painted 
 skies and fantastic back-drops. Possibly when she begged a sugar 
 plum she did it in the tones and accents ordained by the thespian 
 Muse — just as the predestined poet lisps in numbers. When three 
 years old she made a hit as the Genius of the Ring in "Aladdin." 
 A year later she was hailed as a prodigy for her performance of 
 Eva in "Uncle Tom's Cabin." As she grew in grace and beauty, 
 ; her parents decided that she should trip to fame and profit as a 
 
 p;-t-miere daust'ust: ; so for some years, while receiving her education at an 
 Ursuline convent, she went through the trials of being "turned for dancing." 
 At fifteen she resumed her dramatic endeavors and became a member of the 
 stock company conducted by her father at Cleveland, Ohio. The good reports of her 
 gifts went abroad from this provincial playhouse, and even those skeptical of youthful gen- 
 ius came to hope for fine things from this child who, at si.xteeii. played Juliet and Rosalind 
 with rare charm, if not with nice precision. To think of such possibilities put to naught by 
 the concatenation of a double stage, a cooling machine, and an aged miller who cursed to the 
 accompaniment of slow music and an artificial rain storm ! F"or those were essential ingredi- 
 ents in the success of " Hazel Kirke." and I have already intimated how the success of " Hazel 
 Kirke " outwitted the destinies that designed Effie Ellsler to be one of t!ie radiant figures in the 
 American theatre.
 
 IT was Mr. William D. Howells who rather startled us all a few years 
 ago by announcing that none of us had been taking Mr. Edward 
 Harrigan seriously enough. We were admonished by the novelist that 
 instead of merely being amused when we went to Harrigan's Theatie, we 
 should be mstructed as well, and go through such other mental processes 
 as are supposed to acpompany the aspect of serious works of art. Har- 
 rigan was a dramatic Dickens, according to Mr. Howells — a Hogarth of the 
 theatre A careless community had for years been looking upon Mr. Harrigan 
 as a deft compiler of familiar odds and ends of the variety stage and minstrel 
 ' hall. They were grateful to him for the many merry hours they had passed with 
 
 the Mulligans, McSorleys. Reillys, and Old I-avender. They had taken Cordelia 
 to their hearts and sympathized with her aspirations. The catching marches and 
 hauntuig jigs that accompanied the action of Mr. Harrigan's skits, sketches, and com- 
 edies lingered long after the medium of their introduction had been withdrawn frt m 
 the boards. It was all so rip-roaring, rollicking, and jolly — this entertainment that a 
 popular comedian had been giving the town — that no one suspected that it was really 
 high art. But one night Mr. Howells uas induced to go to a playhouse, and happy 
 chance took him to the one where Mr. Harrigan held sway. The very ne.xt day the 
 novelist, carried away by the novelty of his emotions, sat himself down and proclaimed 
 his discovery. Long before this, however, Mr. Harrigan had won for himself a dis- 
 tinguished position in the favor of metropolitan theatregoers. His career has not been 
 without its reverses ; but I can recall no one who has achieved distinction equal to his 
 in the triplicate quality of player, playwright, and play exploiter. The critic chill 
 and conservative already referred to has decreed him almost the first place in the tile 
 of native dramatists; general opinion — I will not say the best — regards him without 
 a peer in some certain forms of mimetic personation, and the prosperity of his meth- 
 ods of theatrical direction is attested by the handsome theatre known as Harrigan's 
 and devoted exclusively, until within a very recent period, to the pre.sentation of plays 
 of his own devising. In writing of Mr. Harrigan, one is somewhat at a loss whether 
 to consider him chiefly as an actor or as a dramatist. His most valid title to fame lies, 
 I believe, in his achievemenis in the latter quality. As the impersonator of the whole- 
 souled, honest-hearted, good-natured Irishman of exuberant humor, flowing wit, and 
 ready retort — the conventional Irishman of the stage — Mr. Harrigan meets all the re- 
 1 quirements imposed by the popular taste and the traditions of the local theatre regarding 
 
 that particular form of characterization. But the limits of his achievement in this direction 
 are so circumscribed, and they are so frequently attained by other mummers of no especial 
 ;' " merit, that I think it obvious that the source of Mr. Harrigan's reputation must be sought in 
 
 his dramatic compositions. Here he stands quite alone. Many have sought to imitate the 
 manner of the entertainment concocted by Mr. Harrigan ; but no one has succeeded in presenting 
 such convincing semblances of certain phases of life. At the first glance, one might be tempted 
 to regard the "types" which make up the dramath pcrsoncr of his works as grotesques and e.x- 
 travagances ; but it is asserted, by persons fit by experience and observation to judge, that the author 
 has gone, in the main, but little beyond the actualities in depicting the color and movement of the 
 town's lower life. Certain it is that in almost every one of his plays, no matter how unconvincing or im- 
 possible It may be in its general scheme, there is to be found some genre bit that fully justifies the existence 
 of the entirety. "The "tough girl" of " Reilly and the 400" could easily bear on her poor rounded shoulders, showing beneath 
 that transparent jersey of shiny black, a vastly less entertaining play than that in which she moved. So wonderfully skillful, 
 indeed, is Mr. Harrigan in the preparation and fit adjustment of such colorful and picturesque details as the one -ust mentioned, 
 that it is not always easy to tell where reality ends and art begins. No wonder he fooled Mr. Howells. 
 
 iW*<l4«
 
 ll-r.M»,i i.li..l..nra,.li l>y I ..Ik. N.w ^.'^1<J
 
 
 
 
 
 oil 
 
 
 -f 
 
 GRACE GOLDEN. 
 
 "THE conspicuous cliarni of Grace Golden's performances 
 is their lack of " Frenchiness." That statement, used 
 in connection with the art and artifice of a comic opera 
 singer, may seem somewhat parado.xical ; but if you will 
 recall for a moment the trite and hackneyed modes and 
 manners that have come to be regarded as indications of 
 spirit and traininij distinctly Gallic, Parisian, you will under- 
 stand the intent of the phrase. For some time now. the 
 comic opera stage of this country has been suffering from this 
 evil of transplanted affectations. Some essayists ot the stage 
 have written so applaudingly and alluringly, and with such an 
 air of authority of those indefinable qualities learned tiniMa/e, 
 Lantiillerie, chic, and what not untranslatable, that every candi- 
 date for the honors of light opera has thought it necessary to im- 
 itate not only the Aimees and 'I'heos and Ji.dics, but the Fougeres 
 and — uid the Xayas, even. We have had, in consequence, such a rash 
 and reckless employment of leery winks, facial innuendo, and pedal 
 suggestion, as one could never see even in the French capital outside of 
 the Moulin Rouge or a ball in the Latin Quarter. The dominance of this 
 so called French "school," with its constant suggestion of the practiced 
 grisette and the mischievous flower girl, has worked serious detriment not 
 only to many young artistes of naturally excellent methods, but also to the 
 fit and accurate interpretation of the works of some composers. No matter 
 what might be the real character of the role impersonated — be it Cuban se- 
 horita, Itaii;in donizella. native Hiawatha, or swarthy Cingalese — she is 
 pretty sure to wink the other eye, flutter her panniers, tip-tilt her skirts, 
 and do the half-dozen other tricks prescribed and foimulated by that 
 precious French '* school." It is genuinely refreshing to meet with an 
 artiste who, either unwittingly or from design, refrains from these in- 
 effective sophistications; for to do so, tokens at once individuality and 
 independence, attributes of the utmost valu» in artistic endeavor. It 
 was Miss Golden's performance of Lola in •' Cavalleria Rusticana " that 
 most distinctly marked her freedom from the failings referred to. Her 
 Lola was not the woman of the Latin Quarter or the Cafe des Ambassa- 
 deurs or the Bouffes Parisiennes, as she is only too often represented to 
 be. She was the Lola that Verga had in mind, the Italian woman of 
 rather naive wickedness, of rather transparent coquetry, with no other 
 Wiles and witcheries than those given by Nature and learned in the 
 rustic circu ustances of a Sicilian village; the Lola that you may see 
 chatting with a gondolier in the piazzetta San Marco, or chaffing a cab- 
 man on the Corso, or waiting for the return of some favorite's boat 
 on the quay of Santa Lucia; the real Lola, in short, and not a Giro- 
 fle or a Parfumeuse. Miss Golden's superiority in the detail that 
 I have pointed out evidences the advantage of proper training and 
 appropriate apprenticeship. She studied for a time at the College 
 of Music in Cincinnati — not the best school in the world, of course, but 
 one where much that is good and very little that is false may be acquired 
 by an earnest student. Subsequently, she came under the direction of Madame 
 Vlaretzek, and later of Madame Fursch-Madi.
 
 (Kriim a plii>lo!{ra|ili liy lalk, New Yiirk.)
 
 ALEXANDER SALVINI. 
 
 IF Alexander Salvini ever learns to speak English he may 
 become a very satisfactory actor. He doubtless has 
 natural aptitude for the calling of the theatre, certain phys- 
 ical attributes of great advantage to the player, and some 
 acquired graces as well. But at present he labors under the 
 same difficulty as that zealous Portuguese actress. Made- 
 moiselle Rhea — or is it Belgian ? Their dialects are marvel- 
 lously like. I cannot but admire the — the — the confidence and 
 the artistic zeal of these gifted foreigners who do not hesitate to en- 
 ter the lists of a strange country and try conclusions with rivals to the 
 manner born. It is really a delicate compliment that they pay us; 
 it indicates such high appreciation of our taste and patience. One 
 never hears of American actors doing ambitious things of that sort — 
 no, indeed ! They don't go to Italy and Portugal — or is it Belgium ? — and 
 France and Germany, and undertake to act in a language with which they 
 have only a garbled acquaintance. The enterprise of players like Mr. Sal- 
 vini and Mademoiselle Rhea is all the more courageous and commendable 
 in view of the fact that precise and proper employment of the vernacular is 
 one of the cardinal demands put upon the theatre by tradition and tenet. A 
 player, therefore, that is brave enough to snap his fingers at this demand and 
 trust to other qualities to ci)mpensate for his public onslaught upon the speech 
 of the land should be dealt with kindly. And it is proof of our cosmopolitan- 
 ism that we tolerate and even encourage this unwitting violation of lingual 
 integrity. I have heard a German actor, who belongs to one of our most es- 
 teemed stock companies, rail at the critics for obchecting to his pronunziation 
 off de Engglish langvidge; I have heard him appeal to unprejudiced friends 
 whether it vas not onpossible to detegt de slidest Cherman accend in hiss 
 speech. But it is only in rare cases that such liberties with the purity of the 
 vernacular on the part of foreign born actors are rebuked. Indeed, in most in- 
 stances, what is commonly termed an accent is regarded as a real attraction, carry- 
 ing novelty, piquancy, and impressiveness. Mr. Salvini, I am sure, has suffered 
 ' nothing in the esteem of his audiences because of the obtrusive reminder of his 
 Italian nativity and breeding. There are moments in his performances when trip- 
 ping and stumbling and curvetting about in the unfamiliar sounds and idioms of 
 i,K our language he becomes quite unintelligible; but in the case of Mr. Salvini that 
 lt-,Sv only adds to the fire, the impetuosity, and abandon of his impersonation. What 
 have such dashing, swash-buckling, up-and-at-'cni fellows as D'Artagnan, Ruy 
 Bias, and Don CKsar to do with proper English ? They were men of action, not 
 of words; then, why concern oneself with Mr. Salvini's manner of speech in his 
 \\ counterfeits of those heroes .' Even in the role of Romeo — where, in the case 
 L,y of ordinary actors, speech does count for much — Mr. Salvini's reckless disre- 
 J/ gard of the language of Shakespeare is deemed by many persons a distinct 
 ornament, imparting illumination and realism to the characterization. Does not 
 his accent constantly remind us — as a provincial critic suggests — that he is of the 
 same race and land as the storied Montague ? He is " the real Romeo "—to quote 
 this same critic — "an Italian youth, fired with passion and with love, handsome 
 as a picture ; who could compare with him in making love to his Juliet ? " Mr. Salvini, however, 
 has more valid claims to popularity than his tempestuous abuse of the English language. He 
 ^^ is of picturesque appearance, of vigorous phvsique, and is endowed with an obvious wealth 
 ..^ ^ ^' ^~Va °^ spirits, of great use in the impersonation of the romantic and heroic characters that 
 
 "'"^^'^ he affects. He is a man of education and culture, too, and his work bears the dis- 
 
 tinctive mark of intelligence, even if it betrays the want of a nice sense of proportion. Possibly he might achieve more refined 
 and exquisite results in a language with which he is really intimate. Indeed, I wonder he has never tried to act in Italian and 
 in Italy. 
 
 —34—
 
 ( I rem a photograph by Kalk, New \ .irk '
 
 Vi' 
 
 /f 
 
 / 
 
 
 
 I have 
 had occasion to refer to the excel- 
 lent service rendered by such an organi- 
 zation as the Bostonian Opera Company 
 in training young singers and in en- 
 'iiuraging them, by fitting advance- 
 ment, toward proper ideals in their 
 ng. Elsewhere, too. 1 have taken 
 occasion to point out the gross care- 
 k-ssness, on the part of critics, public, and 
 layers, that suffers much splendid prom- 
 ise to dissipate in paltry achievement for 
 want of proper instruction and ordering. '^ ' 
 It is, therefore, a genuine satisfaction to record 
 the sincere and studious career of Miss Cleary, 
 who apparently has omitted no pains to improve 
 to the full whatever inherent qualifications may 
 have fallen to her. During her early youth in the 
 Canadian convent of Notre Dame she devoted her 
 chief attention to musical studies, with the result 
 that in all the yearly contests the prizes for instru- 
 mental music were awarded her. Upon leaving the 
 convent Miss Cleary went to Boston where she came 
 to the notice of Reuben .Merrill, an esteemed in- 
 structor of voice culture, who thought that a voice of 
 such bird-like quality as was his young pupil's, and one 
 which, in its comparatively undeveloped state, was ca- 
 pable of such high notes, merited more than ordinary at- 
 tention. Eager for the career upon which she had determined, Miss Cleary en- 
 tered the chorus of the Boston Ideals, at that time under the direction of the 
 shrewd and discerning Miss Ober. By her Miss Cleary's talents were quickly 
 discovered and the young singer, within a few weeks after joining the company, 
 was given the role of Lady Ella in "Patience." When "Victor, the Blue Stocking" — a 
 delightful operetta, in which Zelie de Lussan was infinitely charming — was produced. Miss 
 Cleary created the role of Friquet, a gamin, with much success — so much, indeed, that it 
 required considerable self-will on her part to forego the advantages of her new favor and to 
 carry out a purpose she had always maintained of studying abroad under one of the ap- 
 proved masters of singing. In pursuit of this determination Miss Cleary went to Paris. 
 u here she became a pupil of the maestro Sbriglia. Devotion to her work ruled every 
 moment of her tutelage with .Sbriglia. and when she presented herself in London to the 
 manager of the Savoy Theatre she quickly proved her capability for a place in that scru- 
 pulous establishment. Mr. D'Oyly Carte selected her for the role of Gianetta. at that 
 time being sung by Geraldine L'lmer, and, according to some of the chief London the- 
 atrical critics, whose word may be relied on, the substitution in many respects com- 
 pared favorably with the original. After her season at the Savoy, Miss Cleary returned to 
 Paris and once more resumed her studies, probably with the purpose of fitting herself for 
 grand opera. Unfortunately, however, the natural limitations of her voice must bar her 
 from the e.xalted realm to which she aspires. L'pon returning to this country some months ago. Miss Cleary was at once en- 
 gaged by the Bostonians for the role of Annabelle in "Robin Hood." To add to the importance of the role, a ballad was 
 especially written for Miss Cleary by Mr. De Koven — a tuneful number particularly fashioned by the composer for Miss Cleary's 
 voice and method. Her voice, as has been intimated before, is by no means powerful ; but it is a very sweet one, and is 
 managed with rare skill. 
 
 f
 
 A s.ui.ll.iul. New York.)
 
 ^-^ 
 
 0-^- 
 
 ^■ 
 
 WALTER JONES 
 
 jyjESSRS. A. M. PALMER and E. E. 
 
 Rice, the exploiters of the so-styled 
 burlesque, " 1492," must often be at a loss to de- 
 termine which one of the numerous component 
 features of the entertainment has played the lar 
 gest part in its extraordinary and unreasonable sui 
 cess. Now it is the homely, touching singing 
 Miss \'aughn that seems to have caught the 
 lasting favor of the town ; now the mingled daring 
 and daintiness of the living pictures; now the curi- 
 ous counterfeits of metropolitan characters — police- 
 man, sharper, gamin. i5ut none of these has made 
 so distinct an impression as the now famous tramp 
 of the show. His utterly disreputable appearance, 
 so frankly desperate in its extremity ; his unfailing 
 optimism of spirit: his quaint songs and dances, 
 combine to give to Walter Jones's ugly conceit the 
 dignity of effective individuality. The tramp of 
 " 1492." with his pretentious rags of doeskin, his 
 comic assumption of elegance in the arrangement of 
 his frowsy locks, his cracked voice, and general sug- 
 gestion of impending physical collapse, and. above 
 all. his thoroughly gypsy-like philosophy, will doubt- 
 less stand as the classic for imitation on the stage 
 and in humorous literature. Walter Jones, the creator 
 of this genre bit. is not yet twenty-four years old ; but half 
 jf his life has been occupied in fun making. When a boy, 
 he ran away from home to tra\'el with a circus. For a year or 
 two he tumbled about in the ring, covering himself with sawdust 
 rather than glory. When he was twelve years old he was in- 
 trusted with the responsibilities of a baby clown, and achieved 
 such distinction that his whereabouts became known to his family and 
 he was returned, vi et armis, to the parental roof. The memory of his 
 career in the ring was, however, ton strong for him. and at a convenient 
 opportunity he resumed the fasci- nating life under the canvas. Of 
 
 his work in the theatre, it will J>, suffice to quote the following 
 from a biographical sketch ,gf^^ ^W -^ already published of Mr 
 
 ones : Seven 
 essayed h i s 
 niatic part, that 
 coachman, in a 
 e." He next J 
 
 years ago he 
 
 first dra- 
 
 'i an Irish 
 
 play called 
 
 joined W. 
 
 c o m - 
 
 A. Mestayer's 
 
 pany in "We, 
 & Co." After a season as 
 "The U. S. Mail," he re- 
 playing the opposite part .,,, 
 Bag." Next he ap- fe*^' 
 part with George Mun- *|' 
 et's Baby." and the sea- V\ 
 him in "The Pulse of ^\-? 
 he was kept busy essay- «^ *' 
 It was here that Mr. 
 as a shrewd discoverer 
 clever performers, saw 
 him for " 1492." Mr. _ 
 in this burlesque at 
 
 New York, as Ferdinand. King of Spain, and in the Madison Square scene he interpolated hi; 
 characterization that soon became the talk of the town. 
 
 Major M c G i n n i s in 
 joined Mestayer, 
 to him in " The Grab 
 peared in an Irish 
 roe in "Aunt liridg- 
 son of 1892-3 found 
 New York," where 
 ing six characters. 
 E. E. Rice, noted 
 and developer of 
 him and engaged 
 Jones first appeared 
 Palmer's Theatre, 
 tramp specialty, a unique bit of
 
 ^>B, 
 
 -v^v 
 
 
 all artistic endeavors there may be a kind of artlessness and 
 a\vl<\vardness that is vastly grateful and refreshing, produ- 
 cing impressions no less pleasing than those of practiced skill and 
 careful grace. It is the quality that gives to memoirs and personal 
 correspondence a charm that the most scrupulous pursuit of literary form 
 often fails to catch. Marie Bashkirtseff contrived to impart that same quality to a 
 picture that became the admiration of all Paris at a time when she scarcely knew enough 
 of painting to stretch a canvas. And it is to that same sympathetic simplicity — for that is the 
 essence of the charm — that Eleanor Mayo owes a considerable part of the extraordinary success 
 that has attended her brief career on the stage. Less than a year ago her name was quite un- 
 known in the world of the theatre. To-day her services are in greater demand for comic opera 
 than those of any other American prima donna, with possibly one exception. At a single step, 
 and really almost without effort, she has reached that enviable position where she practically names 
 her own salary. These merely material facts may not be decisive as to Miss Mayo's merits, but they 
 are conclusive as to her favor. I am told that she can sing well, but I know that she does not. Of 
 acting it is plain that she knows nothing; but one should add in fairness that Miss Mayo seldom attempts •;^, 
 
 \ to act. Sometimes, in the course of an impassioned number, she will extend lirst one arm and then 
 O the other; or if the song is of an especially emotional nature, she may extend both arms together; but 
 beyond that her miming rarely ventures. Her voice, in its. present state of cultivation, is by no means 
 remarkable except for a peculiarly soothing timbre, delightful rather than delicious. She sings, though, in the 
 manner of an untutored dilettante, utterly unfamiliar, apparently, with the rudest mechanics of singing. It is said that she 
 has had excellent teaching ; but either she has been an indocile pupil or else she is studiously disregarding the precepts of her 
 masters. It may be true that she is saving her voice — as is hinted by her most partial admirers — but that does not excuse 
 complete contempt of such rudiments as phrasing and clear enunciation. And yet. despite these palpable failings, Miss Mayo 
 is winning. Such is the authority of ner allurement that it has availed to secure the vogue and prosperity of an utterly incon- 
 siderable comic opera. Anything more stupid, trivial, or inchoate than "Princess Bonnie" has seldom lingered on the boards 
 after a fortnight's performances: a hodgepodge of puerile twaddle and pilfered tunes. But for Miss Mayo, this mere puff-ball 
 of a comic opera would have promptly disappeared into oblivion; now, carried along on the breath of her favor, it floats 
 serenely into the dignity of a hundred-night run. Xor is this prosperous event due in any considerable degree to the splendid 
 beauty of Miss Mayo. She is good to look at — in more senses than one: a Phidian model of noble lines and fine coloring, a 
 really delightful scheme of drawing and tinting; but her pulchritude is not of the sort to captivate the general. If, then, as 
 we have seen, the potency of her attraction lies not in her beauty, nor in her acting — of which device she is quite innocent — 
 nor in her singing — that least of all, for .Miss Mayo knows nothing of the art — it must be sought in the novelty of her manner 
 and presence. In every way she is unlike the stage figure which we associate with the idea of prima donna of comic opera. 
 
 So far from evincing any anxiety to please her audience, to cozen the acclaiming hand. Miss Mayo displays an obvious in- 
 difference which I am quite certain is genuine and wholly unaffected. I have observed her curiously how she stood in the 
 midst of deafening applause that demanded a repetition of some lilting waltz song: glance, mind, heart, apparently — of course, 
 one can judge of such things only from appearance — leagues removed from the environment. It may have been mere listless- 
 ness, or inappetency, or the spirit of the artiste latent within her contemning the triviality of her immediate occupation. Be 
 the impulse what it may, though, the result was always completely effective for charm and delight: commanding success, even 
 if not deserving it. It were fatuous, however, to expect these conditions to endure. There must come a time when even such 
 beauty as Miss Mayo's will require the make-up with which it now dispenses with no disadvantage to its theatrical purposes. 
 Her manner, too, must inevitably take on the make-up of consciousness and sophistication in the stead of the artlessness and 
 awkwardness that are now its finest adornment. Then the world may well lament the cruel kindness that encouraged the sac- 
 rifice of magnificent possibilities to satisfying actualities. Unless I am greatly in error, the criticisms passed upon Miss Mayo 
 during her current vogue in Philadelphia have been eulogistic practically without qualification. At any rate, it is certain that 
 no one has ventured to tell her bluntly and with kind cruelty that she cannot sing. Upon her first public appearance in New 
 \ork, a few months ago, two or three of the most equanimous and authoritative critics of the metropolis proclaimed the pro- 
 digious possibilities of her gifts, but warned her against their continued employment under improper guidance. They promised 
 her a career infinitely prouder than that of a queen of comic opera provided her talents were taught the way they should go. 
 But, apparently, the laudatory platitudes of others have prevailed to make Miss ;\Iayo quite content with herself. It must be 
 admitted, too, that for a novice to receive such substantial rewards as Miss Mayo commands is not without its convincing ar- 
 gument. I suppose, in a communistic society, in an artistic Utopia, such talents as hers would have been treated as State 
 property and educated accordingly for the general delectation. In existing circumstances, though, one can do nothing but 
 lament the probable undoing of splendid potency. 
 
 —40 —
 
 ^■?-y* 
 
 r 
 
 
 
 ■JW*, 
 
 4 
 
 r 
 
 
 
 
 
 '■:\:^ 
 
 
 % Ik 
 
 
 
 (I'rom a phnlii>;raph by Surony, New Viirk )
 
 ^ 
 
 AMES A. 
 HERNE. 
 
 IF precedence had any part in the order- 
 ing of this series of critical records, 
 then James A. Heme should have a place 
 among the very first of the players. For 
 he is one of the few of the really great ac- 
 tors and artists in the American theatre. 
 It is only within a very recent period, a 
 shamefully recent period, that he has begun 
 to take anything approaching his proper 
 rank in popular and critical esteem. For 
 the major portion of his stage career of 
 thirty-five years, this man has steadfastly 
 pursued all that is best in his calling, and 
 he long since reached a point sufficiently 
 to entitle him to the bravos of the 
 vos of the populace. And yet for 
 been quite outdistanced in the race 
 critical consideration by a score of 
 tithe of his talent, his skill, or his no- 
 bility of purpose, though as much may not be said of their 
 pretensions. Indeed, it is only within the current season that Mr. 
 Heme has been accorded the dignity of appearance in a n etropolitan theatre 
 of the first class — as that phrase is generally understood. During the de- 
 cadence of the American theatre that set in some ten years ago Mr. Heme 
 was as utterly disregarded as was learning before the Renascence. Now, deo 
 gratias, that we are emerging from the ignorance, puerility, and crass preju- 
 dice of that benighted period, his worth shines out to conscious eyes. If 1 
 seem to write dogmatically, or too fervidly of this matter, it is because it is a 
 weariness to the soul and an irritation to the temper to contrast tlie recep- 
 tion of this native-born artist to that accorded certain mouthing munmers 
 and pedantic posers — the Wilson Barretts, the Willards- — whose chief claim 
 to distinction was their foreign nativity. If a German, or a French, or an 
 English actor had brought us characterizations of folk-life in Bavaria, or 
 Brittany, or Yorkshire, such as Mr. Heme has given us of the folk-life 
 of our own country, we should have hailed the stranger as a creature of 
 inspiration and sent him home with letters of exchange to the value of a 
 fortune. We are marvellously keen for an outlandish sensation. Had Mr. 
 Heme devoted himself undividedlv to the profession of acting, he might 
 possibly have advanced more rapidly and directly to his due place among 
 his peers. But his efforts and achievements in the domain of playwriting have dis- 
 tracted general and critical attention from his mimetic genius. His acting in his 
 play of ••Shore .Acres," for example, is considered quite secondarily to his work of 
 dramatic composition, despite the fact no plaver of our time has created a more ani- 
 mate, colorful, and powerful identity than that of Nathan'l Berry. His fame and for- 
 tune as a player have suffered in association with the popular misadventures of his plays. 
 '•Drifting -Apart," and "Shore Acres" were so amazingly out of the ordinary that the disconcerted 
 senses of the spectators could take no note of Mr. Heme's individual efforts as an actor. Now that a forced run of the last 
 of these plays, at a theatre of the most fastidious clientage, has aroused the community to a realization of its fine merits, there 
 has come a simultaneous appreciation of Mr. Heme's thespian genius. 
 
 "Margaret Fleming,"
 
 (I'r.im u pluiliiKniiih liy C.illicTt .V llaicui, riiiluiU-Iphia. I'ji I
 
 f.'~ 
 
 »v^^- 
 
 a'«> 
 
 
 X 
 
 v^ 
 
 ) 
 
 MARIE 
 WAINWRIGHT. 
 
 XA/HEN Mr. Uoker's romantic 
 and picturesque play of 
 " Francesca da Rimini" was produced 
 some years since by the lamented Lawrence Barrett — an actor 
 of such noble aspirations and splendid purposes that it seems the 
 unkindest of fates that he was not endowed with gifts correspond- 
 ing to his fine ambitions — there were in the cast four players who 
 appeared as if especially designed to fulfill the author's ideals of the 
 chief characters of his drama. They were Mr. I>arrett himself, in the 
 role of Giovanni; Mr. Otis Skinner, as Count Paolo; Mr. Louis James, in the 
 character of the Jester, and, finally. Miss Marie Wainwright, 
 than whom the storied Francesca herself could not have pos- 
 sessed a more alluring presence or a more seductive personal- 
 itv. Viewed through the possibly softening vistas of retrospect, 
 Aliss Wainwright's impersonation of the beautiful and erring 
 bride of Rimini appears to me as one of the most exquisitely 
 conceived and sympathetically e.'cecuted performances that has 
 ever come within my experience. If Miss Wainwright has 
 never surpassed her achievement in that notable instance — 
 indeed, if she had never accomplished another effort of 
 importance in her calling — she might still claim a con- 
 spicuous place in the theatre of our time; just as the 
 painter is entitled to supreme consideration who adds 
 one really great picture to the world's gallery of cher- 
 ished canvases, or the sculptor who leaves one perfect image 
 of his skill, or the lyrist who turns one remembered song'. 
 There was a poetic quality in Miss Wainwright's counterfeit of 
 Francesca, a delicacy of touch, a general suggestion of sweet- 
 ness and light, that I have mi.ssed in her subsequent efforts, 
 tier Viola, as I recall it now, was a creature of sensuous beauty, 
 replete with animation and adventurous spirit, but rather froward 
 and hoydenish withal, wanting the gentler sentiment and delicious 
 melancholy that pervade the poet's Illyrian conceit. It was at 
 all points a performance of intelligence and of force, but it 
 lacked continuity, atmosphere; it was something too human 
 and material in its sensual effects. "Twelfth Night" is es- 
 sentially a gossamer-like fancy, a fairy story of a land of 
 which the poet knew nothing save what he conjured from his 
 ethereal imagination : a land where dwells the Orsino who feeds 
 his love with music and moons and sighs upon beds of Howers ; 
 where 'V'ioia hides her love to " let concealment, like a worm i' 
 the bud, feed on her damask cheek " ; a land "full of shapes and 
 high fantastical." In such environment, a Viola spruce and sturdy 
 as that of Miss Wainwright seems not quite at home. The forest of 
 Arden would prove more congenial ; there she would twit and chaff an 
 Orlando with easier grace than that which attends her .sad humility in Orsino's 
 love. Miss Wainwright was something happier in her impersonation of "Amy Rob- 
 sart." The merely feminine rather than poetic tenderness of the character was easily 
 within the range of the player's temperamental qualifications. She was a very winsome and 
 womanly Amy rather than the martyr-like figure of history or the melodramatic one of Walter 
 .Scott's novel. One conceived such a lively fancy for Leicester's sweetheart that one rejoiced 
 in the good nature and daring craft of the playwright who discomfits .Vmy's foes utterly and 
 assigns her all the material joys of a brilliant and applauded match. Historv suffers in the deed, perhaps, but the spectator is 
 vastly pleased; Miss Wainwright's .■\my is such an attractive girl. Apparently, Miss Wainwright has found little popular de- 
 mand for the drama of poetry and romance. During these latter years of her career she has devoted her efforts to the imper- 
 .«onation of what are styled, in the argot of the theatre, society heroines. 
 
 I I « ' '«. ^ 
 
 
 
 -44—
 
 (Kr«>m ft plioioj^'rnpli by Samny, New York.)
 
 r' 
 
 -^ 
 
 >*>• 
 
 NELSON 
 WHEATCROFT. 
 
 ]yjR. WHEATCROFT is 
 
 an English actor wlio 
 has for the past eleven years 
 , made America his field of labor. 
 
 For four years he was one of the 
 most popular members of the Lyceum 
 Theatre stock company of New York. 
 He has travelled throughout the United 
 States, and was engaged by Charles 
 Frohman for the original stock 
 company organized for the % 
 opening of the new Empire 
 Theatre. A year ago, in association with 
 
 the management of that theatre, he under- .^ 
 
 took to establish an institution for the 
 
 training of students for the dramatic 
 , profession and founded the Empire 
 
 Theatre Dramatic School. The result of the first term is most gratifying to 
 Mr. VVheatcroft and Mr. Frohman; the latter has .selected for important engage- 
 ments next season si.x of the students whose portraits appear on this page. This 
 is substantial encouragement, indeed, and promises well for the future of the 
 graduates of Mr. W'heatcroft's school. Miss Carrie Lavinia Keeler [i] has been 
 engaged for the light comedy part, originally played by Miss Agnes Miller, in 
 •'Sowing the Wind," in which she will tour the principal cities next season. 
 1 Miss Keeler belongs to New York city, and studied for two years under Mr. 
 Wheatcroft previous to entering the Empire Dramatic School. Miss Margaret 
 Moore [2] is a Canadian. She never studied for the stage or appeared upon the 
 stage before entering the school. She stepped at once into the foremost 
 ranks of the students. Mr. Frohman has selected her for one of the promi- 
 nent parts in his forthcoming revival of "Shenandoah." Miss Alice Gordon 
 Cleather [3] is an English girl who has been in New York with her family for several 
 years. She held a prominent place in the New York Comedy Club until deciding to 
 adopt the stage as a profession and entered the Empire School. Next season she will 
 play one of the leading characters in Brandon Thomas's comedy, "Charley's Aunt," 
 under the management of Charles Frohman. Miss Stella Zanone [4J has also been retained 
 for one of the new productions to be made next season under the same management. She 
 comes from St. Louis, and in that city made many conquests as an amateur actress and 
 reciter before taking the course of training for the professional stage. Mr. John Sorentz | 5] and Mr. John P. Whitman 16| both 
 came from the West to try their fortunes in the East, with the enviable success which a two years' contract with Mr. Charles 
 Frohnian's stock company implies. They have both played small parts at the Empire Theatre during the season, while study- 
 ing under Mr. Wheatcroft and his associate instructors. . . . 
 
 Of the value to the profession of acting of such an institution as the one conducted by Mr. Wheatcroft under the auspices 
 of the Empire Theatre, there can be no cioubt. It must not be supposed, however, that every pupil graduated from such a 
 school is certain to win conspicuous success; no more does a course at a great university assure for a youth a subsequent 
 career of prosperity and distinction. But the young man or woman who learns the mechanics of a calling is far more likely 
 to win a considerable position than one who assumes to despise the assistance of such instruction. There appears, on the 
 surface, no reason why every encouragement should not be given Mr. Wheatcroft and his school. In the absence of such in- 
 stitutions as State theatres and conservatories, an establishment like the one in reference may come to serve as an excellent 
 substitute therefor, provided, of course, that something more than a concern for the merely material [prosperity of the enter- 
 prise regulates its conduct. The writer does not know what qualifications are demanded of candidates for admittance to the 
 privileges and opportunities of the school, but it is to be presumed that certain due limitations are imposed in regard to intel- 
 ligence, sincerity of purpose, and reasonable natural equipment. 
 
 -46-
 
 Iroili n i>li(it"Krupli by I'laU, ChituKc, 111.1 
 
 k
 
 ADELAIDE 
 NEILSON. 
 
 No English-speaking actress of modern times has created such a sensation in this country as did Adelaide Neilson when she made 
 her debut at Booth's Theater, New York, m the winter of 1872, as Juliet. Her success was immediate; the critics and the 
 public accepted her impersonation of the character with praise and enthusiasm. "Miss Xeilson's Juliet," wrote one of the 
 critics, "is a young, beautiful, passionate Italian girl, impetuous in all things, proud but gentle, fiery but tender, capricious but true — 
 to whom mere existence is an ardent joy and to whom first love comes like a revelation from heaven." Her Rosalind was judged to 
 be perfect, and when in later years she added Viola, Isabella and Imogen to her repertoire, the critics could scarcely find words suffi- 
 ciently strong to express their'adniiration of the actress. That Adelaide Neilson was an actress of the very first rank I never thought, 
 but there was a personal fascination about her which no other actress I ever saw, unless it were Aimee Desclee, possessed. She was 
 very beautiful, too; slight, with a small and perfectly shaped head. She had lustrous dark eyes and a wealth of dark-brown hair, 
 which, at the time of lier death, had become golden. I recall as one of the most charming scenes I ever witnessed, Adelaide Neilson 
 walking down Rotten Row one morning, a few months before she died, between Mrs. I.angtry. then in the zenith of her glorious 
 beauty, and Mrs. Cornwallis West. Miss Neilson had just returned from a triumphant tour through the United States, and was 
 playing Juliet to Conwav's Romeo to crowded houses. Fashionable London, which had hitherto neglected her, went into raptures 
 over the fair Neilson. A few m.onths later her body lay in the Paris morgue. She had gone to Pans to play the part of Nana in 
 French, for she spoke that language as perfectly as she did English. On a sultry afternoon, while driving through the Bois, she drank 
 a quantity of milk, which produced spasms, and she died in a restaurant in the park. The news of her death in this country created a 
 tremendous sensation at the time, showing how idolized she was by the American theater-going public. William Winter wrote of her 
 in the New York Tribune: "For many a long day the stage, which has lost forever her radiant presence, will seem a desolate 
 place; and to those who knew her well and saw the 'loveliness of her disposition, the gentleness of her spirit, the large generosity of 
 her mind, and the radiance of cheerfulness and grace that she diffused, life will never again seem as bright as once it was." This 
 remarkable woman had arisen from the dregs of the people to a position of wealth and public honors. Her mother was a Yorkshire 
 dressmaker and her father an actor. It is "believed that she was born in Saragossa, Spain, somewhere about 1850. It appears that 
 as a child she showed a great talent for mimicry. Lizzie Ann, as she was known in Guiseley, worked as a factory girl, but avoided 
 her fellow hands, whom she treated as inferiors'. She became a nurse, and suddenly, owing to some ill-treatment she had received 
 from her stepfather, she disappeared from Guiseley. The next thing her Yorkshire friends heard of her was that she had appeared in 
 London as Juliet, and that the critics had compared her with Rachel. It was in 1872 that she first visited this country. 
 
 —4-
 
 (Trom A photograph by Sarony, New York.)
 
 -^1 
 
 THERE was in Harr>' 
 Montague just that same 
 delightful personality 
 that Adelaide Neilson pos- 
 sessed. Neither was great as 
 a player, but each left a vacant 
 place on the stage that has 
 never been filled. And when 
 the news that JMuntague had died 
 suddenly of hemorrhage of the 
 lungs at San Francisco was tele- 
 graphed all over the country, one might 
 have supposed from the feeling displayed that the nation had lost a favorite son instead of 
 an actor who was a foreigner, and who had only been in this country for four years. He 
 was idolized by the women and beloved by those men who knew him. It used to be told 
 how a New York girl had turned her closet into a shrine and burned candles around his 
 picture, but his head was never turned by such adulation. He was modest and gentle- 
 manly off the stage as well as on. He had such a generous, loving, sympathetic disposi- 
 tion, that men and women, children and dogs all took to him by instinct. He loved 
 art as well as sport; would go into raptures over a fine picture, and was in his seventh 
 heaven when on a yacht with a piping breeze. No one enjoyed a joke more than he, and 
 in a romp he was a perfect boy. It was he that organized the Lambs' Club of New York, 
 with the purpose of attracting members of the dramatic profession, artists and other sym- 
 pathetic natures, and to-day his name is kept there in loving memory. As a boy he was 
 intended for the church, his father being a clergyman of the established Church of Eng- 
 land, who had a livmg in Cheshire. There Montague, whose true name was Henry John 
 Mann, was born m January, 1843, and as he died in .^.ugust 1878, he was not thirty-si.\ years old 
 at the time of his death. But the lad did not care to become a clergyman, so he entered a bank- 
 ing house in London. Dion Boucicault seeing him play in some private theatricals advised him 
 to go on the stage, and while awaiting to find him an opportunity to make his debut, appointed him 
 his private secretary. Under the name of H. J. Montague he appeared at Drury Lane as the Minister 
 in "Jennie Deans." He was then twenty years of age, exceedingly good-looking and exhibited a 
 fair amount of talent. He made a slight hit' in "For Her," which led to his being engaged at the 
 Trince of Wales' Theater, by the Bancrofts. Here he acted in " Play " and " School" and some- 
 times as George D'Alroy in "Caste." He left the Bancrofts to 'oecome a co-partner with James and 
 Thorne at the \'audeville. His most successful role was Jack \Vyatt in Abbey's "Two Roses," in which 
 performance Henry Irving made his first London hit as Digby Grand. Montague made a most delightful 
 lover as Jack Wyatt, and for two seasons he toured the English provinces with the play. Then he be- 
 came manager of the Globe Theater in London, but his management did not prove a financial success. In 
 1874 he came to New York to try his luck, but he had procured no engagement in advance. Dion Bouci- 
 cault introduced him to Lester Wallack, and he made his first appearance in Byron's " Partners for Life. " His 
 --. fresh, easy, unconventional acting was something new to New Yorkers, and he at once established himself as 
 <.'^ a favorite. Then came " The Romance of a Poor Young Man," which added to his success, and the " Shaugh- 
 . raun," which crowned it. He was paid $1,000 a week to accompany Boucicault, with the " Shaughraun," to 
 
 San Francisco. It was two days before the close of his engagement there that he died. Few actors have enjoyed such popularity 
 as did Harry Montague during the few years he was in this country. His social success was as great as his success before the foot- 
 lights, and he counted almost as many friends in the drawing-rooms'of fashionable New York as he did admirers among the frequenters 
 of Wallack s Theater. There was about him a quiet charm and a gentleness of manner that proved an open sesame" in circles where 
 men of his profession seldom penetrated in those days. 
 
 —6—
 
 (Kroin a phtilonnipli by Sunuiy. New Yi»rl(.)
 
 
 X 
 
 
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 V. ' «'> ' /. ' 
 
 "_«K5i*"vr7-;7- 
 
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 T 
 
 BESSIE 
 TYREE. 
 
 HERE is no 
 
 young actress on 
 the American 
 stage to-day who gives better 
 promise of doing good things 
 than Miss Bessie Tyree. It is to be 
 hoped that the success she has met with 
 in her early dramatic career will not mal<e 
 . her careless, for nature has endowed her 
 with remarkable talent as a coiiicdienne ; 
 but it is only by means of cultivation and 
 hard work for many years to come that Miss 
 Tyree can hope to reach such a point of per- 
 fection as mortals are permitted to attain. She 
 has one disadvantage — that is an unpleasant 
 voice. If she could only learn to talk through 
 /wr iiost' — we use the e.xpression advisedly, for 
 the so-called "nasal twang " is the result of not 
 asing the nostrils, as anyone can discover for him- 
 self by closing his — no American actress would 
 be better equipped than she. We do not un- 
 derstand why actors should not consider it as 
 necessary to cultivate the speaking voice as 
 singers do the singing voice. It was in the 
 "Amazons" as Lady Thomasin Betturbet. commonly 
 known as " Lord Tommy," and the most lively of Lady Castle- 
 jordan's three daughters, that Aliss Tyree made her first con- 
 spicuous and artistic hit. Not only did she look well and disport 
 herself gracefully in costumes which a year ago, before the bicycle 
 craze had set in, were stiange to our eyes, but she played the part 
 with such a saucy air and with so much skill that a role which, in 
 the hands of most actresses, would have become exceedingly vulgar, 
 was made by Miss Tyree one of the principal hits of a thoroughly re- 
 fined performance. It was a rare bit of luck that the young lady, who 
 had had so short a stage experience, should be cast for such a part in 
 so good a play and at so prominent a theater as the Lyceum (New York). 
 She proved herself deserving of it. Miss Tyree, who is of Scotch descent, 
 is a \'irginian by birth, and all her early associations were those of the 
 peaceful home-life of the South. Circumstances made it necessary that she 
 should earn her own livelihood, and she adopted the theatrical profession in 
 preference to becoming a governess. She studied for a time at Franklin Ser- 
 geant's dramatic school in New York and then obtaineil an engagement as an 
 "'-■ understudy in the stock company of the Lyceum, of which she has ever since 
 
 been a member. Her first part was Phyllis in the "Charity Ball, "in which 
 play she also took the role of Bess. This part she played for ten months, and 
 it proved her versatility, for the two roles are diametrically opposed to one an- 
 as a girl of thirteen, then she was seen as Lucille in ■■ The Wife." The limit of space 
 Suffice it to say that for the last four years Miss Tyree has appeared 
 
 Other. In " Merry Gotham " she appeared 
 
 will not permit of our mentioning all the parts she has played. 
 
 in nearly all, if not all, the Lyceum stock company's productions, and has never done but well 
 
 — S-
 
 (Kriiin a photoKf"!''' ^y ''■'"'' "^^^ ^'"^■>
 
 
 t 
 
 >w 
 
 LE MOYNE. 
 
 THE \v r i t e 1' s of good 
 plays — plays that will 
 
 have more than ephemeral existence — do not shape their stories for an 
 
 individual man or woman. They are written to develop certain ideas, and one 
 
 -.» of the ways of developing ideas, is by portraying human thoughts and feelings 
 
 in their relation to the events of time. That makes the play. The actor who 
 
 would act the play must understand the thoughts, must understand the feelings, and 
 
 must not be content uith the mere outward signs of them ; that is, he must be an 
 
 actor and not a mimic. In the order of nature, thoughts come first; expression 
 
 second. So it is in the art of the actor. He must have thoroughly studied what 
 
 are the thoughts of the character he is playing before he can give proper expression 
 
 to that character's emotions. Art is so long that few plavers can attain perfection 
 
 in this before they have reached the sere and yellow leaf. But the young actors of 
 
 ..^^^^•^^^^^^, -J— »• .», to-day, with few exceptions, as Richard Mansfield. Robert Taber and Wilton Lack- 
 
 ( II^^H^^^K^^K jl^^V W''-..V aye, do not even attempt to study the thoughts and feelings of their characters. How 
 
 B\ u ^^^K^^^^^HjI^MHr z^.,^} then, can they expect to attain such perfection in their art as has been reached by that 
 
 consummate artist, Mr. John Le Moyne, who has been doing this for over forty years ? 
 Of course Mr. Le Moyne had the advantage over the younger player of having to act in 
 one season as many different roles as the latter may in a whole lifetime; but with all his 
 experience he is to-day as careful a student of what we have already stated to be essential 
 to an actor as he was in the heyday of his youth. During that youth he played with such 
 stars as Forrest and Charlotte Cushman. who managed their own rehearsals, so that the 
 members of stock companies had as their instructors all the great players of the country in turn. 
 Uid he will tell you how he has played every part in " Hamlet " except the title role and Laertes, for 
 understudies were unknown, and a member of the company not in the current cast was liable at 
 moment to be called upon to fill any kind of a role. .Mr. Le Moyne, as his name implies, is of French 
 descent. He was bom in Boston in 1831. He made his first professional appearance at Portland. 
 Me., in 1852 as the First Officer in the " Lady of Lyons." For a short tirne he was playuig old men's 
 parts at the Troy Museum, and then traveled through the countrv with "Uncle Tom's Cabin," in 
 , , _^ - which he played the role of Deacon Perry, a character that was written especially for him. He was a 
 
 ^^^, .. - /""^J member of the Boston Howard Athensum Company when the war broke out. He obtained a commis- 
 
 sion m the Twenty-eighth Massachusetts Regiment and was a captain at the battles of James Island, 
 Sjcond Bull Run, Chantilly and South Mountain. In the last he was severely wounded, and being incapa- 
 citated for further service was honorablv discharged. He returned to the stage and in 1S71 appeared 
 at the old Fifth .Avenue Theater, New York, under the management of .Aujiustin Daly. He returned 
 to Boston for three seasons and then permanently settled in Xew York, first playing at the L^nion Square, 
 then with Daly's, for five seasons at the Madison Square, and he has now closed his fifth season at the 
 Lyceum. You will not find in Mr. Le Moyne. as you are liable to find in most of his brother actors, 
 a man who can talk of nothmg else save the mummer's art, and especially his own achievements in it. He avoids "shop," and, 
 like a true man of the world, prefers to discuss the persons who are shaping history; books and the men who write them. He is a 
 charming companion, vvhose society is much sought after by men and women of cultivated tastes, and still retains the buoyancy of youth 
 in bearing and in thought.
 
 'ERV remarkable old lady is Mrs. Gilbert, who, in spite of the 
 seventy-four years that have passed over her head, is as sprightly 
 as a young girl in conversation, and if of late she has grown 
 bent in figure, moves along the crowded streets easily and without 
 assistance. On the stage she is as rollicking as ever in Daly's farces 
 1^ and shows no sign of her increasing years. In New York she is a 
 ^ personage, for, for thirty-one years she has held sway over the hearts 
 " of its people, young and old, and New Yorkers claim her as their own. 
 She remains to-day what John Brougham called her a long time ago, "a 
 bundle of spasms." She is never at rest on the boards, though she is 
 artistic enough never to spoil the picture by her restlessness nor to attract 
 attention to her performance to the detriment of the other players. She is always 
 very funny, and her fun is never other than intelligent. Even in the most serious 
 subjects she appears bound to place a cotiiic feature, so bubbling is she with spirits. 
 Her sense of humor is the same as Dickens' was, and so great an admiration has she 
 for the author, that she reads right through his works once every twelve months and has 
 done so for many years past. Withal, she is the very essence of naturalness, and, when 
 she makes a quaint remark, one would imagine she had been saying nothing else all her 
 life. Mrs. Gilbert was born in Rochdale, Lancashire, England, in 1S21. Her maiden 
 name was Hartley. She made her [lebut as a dancer, and in 1846 married Mr. Gilbert, 
 who belonged to the same profession. Three years later the Gilberts came to this 
 country and she made her American debut as a fairy in "The Cricket on the Hearth," 
 at Milwaukee. While they were playingat the Cleveland Theater in 1857, Mrs. Gilbert 
 made up her mind that she would cease to become a liivisftist' and turn her attention to 
 making herself an actress. One of her first parts was that of Lady Creamlev in "A Serious 
 Family." She made her first New York appearance as the Baroness in '• Finesse " at the 
 Olympic Theater. She then went to the old Broadway Theater. As the Schoolmarm in 
 Brougham's "Pocahontas" she made a great hit. When "Caste" was first produced in 
 New York she acted the role of the Marchioness so effectively as to make it one of the features 
 of the piece. Then Mrs. Gilbert joined Augustin Daly's company and has remained with it evet 
 since. Indeed, Daly's without Mrs. Gilbert would seem as strange as Daly's without Ada Rehan or " Jimmie " Lewis.
 
 I I'n.in ii pin -I. (graph by Sarony, New York.)
 
 He was in Daly 
 accepted Mr. A 
 
 's company for a brief period 
 M. Palmer's offer to play Svengali 
 
 LACK A YE. 
 
 HEN it was announced that Paul Potter would 
 dramatize "Trilby," the critics all over the Eng- 
 lish-speaking world, including those of New 
 York, Kalamazoo and t)skosh, and Mr. Clement Scott of 
 -" London town, rose up in their wrath and denounced him as 
 
 the desecrator of a subject that had become — in this country at 
 least — almost a religious cult. How Mr. Potter recognized a greater 
 dramatic possibility in .Svengali than in Trilby, made a play which 
 may bring more to Du Manner's exchequer than his novel will, and 
 how the critics were turned into modern Balaams, is ancient history, 
 me add this anecdote to Trilbyania: I met Mr. Potter just after one of 
 the early rehearsals of his play. He was enthusiastic over the Svengali. "The 
 man does not play it as the majority of stage villains would. There is nothing 
 cringing about his villain. AH through the play Svengali shows himself conscious 
 of his superiority over those around him. When he says ' I am Svengali ! ' he is 
 great." It was Wilton Lackaye who made this impression on the dramatist. 
 That the public should have been surprised at Mr. Eackaye making such a suc- 
 cess in the part only proves that the public has a short memory. His Duroc in 
 aul Kauvar" was original in that it differed entirely from the old-fashioned 
 stage villain. It was at the time accepted as one of the best bits of stage villainy 
 ever seen in this country. But Mr. Lackaye has won his spurs in other than 
 villains' parts. As Demetrius in "A Midsummer Night's Dream," which he 
 played in Chicago during the summer of iSSS, as Gilchrist in " Bootle's Baby," 
 he was excellent, while as Jefferson Stockton in ".Aristocracy," he made a sym- 
 pathetic success out of a role written with exaggeration. And this records but a 
 few of his hits. Born in Virginia, near Washington, on September 30, 1862, 
 Mr, Lackaye graduated at the Georgetown L'niversity, His earliest ambition 
 was to become a priest, but he deserted theology for law, only to tind that 
 Blackstone suited him no better than Thomas Aquinas. He had tried his 
 hand at private theatricals in Washington, and when the late Lawrence 
 Barrett offered him an engagement in 1883, he accepted it. His first op- 
 portunity in New York came when he played Robert le Diable in Admiral 
 Porter's " Allan Dare." In that role he made his hrst " palpable hit." His 
 next was as Duroc, and then as Saviani in "Jocelyn" he made yet another, 
 has been a member of the Lyceum company and had been engaged to "star" when he 
 
 -14-
 
 it "l>yriKliI, i^'(s, !'>■ >.ii>'iiy. New \i
 
 
 MARIE 
 BURROUGHS. 
 
 ISS LILLIE ARRINGTON, of San Francisco, 
 was yet in her teens '.vhen she became stage- 
 striiclc. Her ambition to become an actress was 
 received with the maternal frown, but it did not pre- 
 vent Miss Arrington from playing Juliet to an imagi- 
 nary Romeo and Pauline to a Claude Melnotte com- 
 posed of air. One day she was practising Juliet's 
 appeal to Tybalt, "Stay, Tybalt, stay!" She re- 
 peated the words again and again, and got so excited trying 
 to impress upon a sand-hill the proper force of the lines, that 
 she did not notice that an old carpenter was at work close at hand 
 he shouted out, •• Oh ! give Tybalt a rest ! " This did not dis- 
 courage her, for a short time afterward, when the late Lawrence 
 Barrett visited San Francisco, she paid him a visit and told him of her 
 determination to become an actress. She recited the curse scene from 
 the Forsaken." and the result was that Mr. Barrett got her an engage- 
 ment at the Madison Square Theater, New York, tlien under the mar{agement 
 of Dr. Mallory. There she made her debut under the name of Marie Bur- 
 roughs as Gladys in •' The Rajah," and her success was instantaneous- — more, how- 
 ever, the result of good looks than of good acting. Her next appearance was 
 as Irene in "Alpine Roses." She was still a raw amateur, earning only ten 
 dollars a week, but Dr. Mallory thought he detected talent in her, and placed her 
 in the charge of Mr. Louis Massan, who first gave her lessons in the art of play- 
 ing and then married her. When "Elaine" was produced in 1887 at the Madi- 
 son Square under the management of Mr. A. M. Palmer, Miss Burroughs ap- 
 peared as Queen Guinevere. She was specially adapted to this part, and 
 with her rich dark beauty, made a striking contrast to the pale, spiritual- 
 looking Annie Russell, who took the role of Elaine. When Mr. Palmer as- 
 sumed the management of the theater he renewed the engagement of Miss Bur- 
 roughs for leading and juvenile parts. She appeared in "Saints and Sinners" 
 and other plays with some success. But it was not until the arrival in this country 
 of Willard, the English actor, that Miss Burroughs really showed what was in her. 
 As Mary Blenkhorn in "The Middleman " and as ^■ashti Dettrick, the factory girl 
 in " Judah," she astonished her friends with the improvement she had made in her 
 art. She also played with Mr. Willard Kate Norbury in "John Needham's 
 Double," and Lucy White in "The Professor's Love Story." It was un- 
 „ fortunate for Miss Burroughs that those friends were so indiscriminate in their 
 
 praise, for it determined the young lady to join the army of stars, and a very 
 excellent leading lady was lost to the stage. With Pinero's " Profligate " she 
 has met during the past season with considerable success. .Some evil genius ap- 
 pears to have inspired her with the idea that she was destined to step into Kate 
 'Bateman's shoes, and she played "Leah." It was a dreadful yfijjrt;. However, Miss Marie Burroughs is now accepted as one of the 
 ■leading actresses of the American stage. That she will ever rank among the greatest actresses of the world, not even her most de- 
 voted admirers can expect, but she is so painstaking and so devoted to her profession that with each succeeding season she shows 
 ■some improvement in her art. 
 
 — 16—
 
 ERE it possible to have in this 
 country a dramatic school on the 
 lines of the Paris Conservatoire. Mr. 
 E. M. Holland wotild assuredly be one of the lead- 
 ing professors. If aspirants to dramatic laurels would 
 carefully study Mr. Holland's artistic methods, they 
 could receive liberal education in the art of acting; their ob- 
 servations, if intelligent, would go a long way to make up for the 
 want of a public conservatory. It was in stock companies 
 that Mr. Holland learned his art. and a member of a stock 
 company he has always remained. If there were such a 
 thing as a born actor, he would have been one, for he is 
 the son of the late George Holland, the light comedian 
 whose death in 1870 was felt by all theatergoers in this 
 country as a personal loss. His great grandfather, 
 Charles Holland, was an admired actor in London 
 in the days of David Garrick, and his grandfather 
 was a valuable member of the Urury Lane com 
 pany during the Elliston sway. Mr. Holland, 
 therefore, inherited the right to become an 
 actor. But Dion Boucicault once very 
 truly said : " No man is a born actor, yet 
 he may be born to be an actor if he stud- 
 ies hard enough and long enough." Mr. 
 Holland was born in Xew York in 1848. 
 and commenced his theatrical life in 1.S63 
 as a call-boy at Mrs. John Wood's Olym- 
 pic rheater on Broadway, New York. In 
 1 866 he went to Barnum's Museum, where 
 he played small parts, and in the following 
 year was engaged as a member of Lester Wal- 
 lack's stock company. For thirteen consecutive 
 seasons Mr. Holland was associated with all the 
 celebrated artists with whom Lester Wallack surrounded 
 himself. He joined the .^L^dison Square company in 1S82, 
 under Daniel Frohman, and continued with it under A. ^L Palmer, 
 .•ith whom he has remained up to the present time. 
 
 -i,S-
 
 M 
 
 com 
 coiintrv and in London in 
 
 ISS ANNIE MYERS 
 is. properly, Mrs. 
 Myers ; but for some rea- 
 son managers of comic opera do not 
 like their prima donnas to appear on 
 the bills as married, even if. as in 
 the case of Miss Myers, the lawful 
 husband is a member of the company. 
 Miss Myers was born Jarbeau. Baltimore 
 was her birthplace, and she comes of French 
 descent. While yet in her teens. Miss Annie 
 Jarbeau became the wife of .Mr. Henry Myers, 
 a Baltimore lawyer. One day Mr. Myers threw 
 up his law practice to accept a good position in 
 1 bank; but. unfortunately, the bank failed to 
 ■;eep its promise. Mr. Myers found himself with 
 a pretty young wife, a baby and no chance of 
 finding anything to do. A good-natured oper- 
 atic manager hearing of his plight and knowing 
 he had a good voice, offered him a position in 
 the chorus of a traveling company. He had to 
 accept it. Mrs. Myers and the baby came to 
 the depot to see him off. and m the manner of 
 young wives she broke into sobs when the mo- 
 ment for parting came. The kind-hearted 
 opera manager, who was our old friend. 
 
 "Charlie" Ford, finding the reason of "^ 
 this How of tears, told Mrs. Myers to dry 
 them up and that he would look after 
 her and the baby if she would only come 
 ' along. A few hours later the two were in 
 .^-^ hot pursuit of the opera company; and that 
 
 V^ j is how .Annie Myers started to become a 
 
 5^;" I prima donna. She had played before in 
 
 private theatricals — and had even played 
 Hebe in "Pinafore." With the Ford 
 company she first played a small part 
 in the " .Mascot, " and then obtained 
 small parts with other companies. It 
 was not till she met the late Colonel 
 McCauU that she had a chance of doing 
 something. At that time she was play- 
 ing the role of the old nurse. Martha, in 
 " Faust," at Baltimore. The Colonel was 
 so pleased with her voice that he at once 
 engaged her. Miss Myers opened with 
 the McCaull opera company at Pittsburg 
 in iSSj. playing Puebla in "Don Ca?sar." 
 It was her first hit and placed her among the queens 
 
 ^<,. 
 
 of the .'American 
 ir opera stage. She afterward joined Miss Lillian Russell's company and made a great hit both in this 
 rile Ouecn of the Brilliants."
 
 / 
 
 \ 
 
 \ 
 
 W' 
 
 '^\m^ 

 
 FER- 
 
 GUSON. 
 
 Ox that fateful night 
 of April 14, I1S65. 
 .1, 
 
 i 
 
 -^ 
 
 the subject of our 
 sketch was playing a minor part in "Our American 
 Cousin," at Ford's Theater, Washington. Young Fer- 
 guson — he was but a lad at the time, a call-boy who had at 
 the last moment been called upon to till the place of an absentee — 
 was standing with Laura Keene in the wings, directly opposite the 
 President's box, when \\ilkes Booth tired the bullet that killed Abraham Lincoln. The sound of the 
 shot, he will tell you, did not attract his attention much, for he thought that probably the property 
 man was firing off some of the pistols used on the stage in an alley behind the theater. But the 
 crash of the fall of John Wilkes Booth on the stage a second or two later caused him to look round. 
 / "- Booth, whom i\lr. Ferguson knew personally and therefore recognized, was kneeling on the stage. 
 f Before anybody could realize what had happened he had rushed past Miss Keene and the young actor and 
 out of the stage door. Mr. Ferguson will tell you, that so far as he can recollect. Booth, as he jumped on 
 the stage did not cry out " Sic scmpa- iyrainiis." But this fiction of history will probably never die. In 
 187 1, Mr. Ferguson became a member of Conway's stock company at the Park Theater, Brooklyn, and two 
 years later he was engaged by Lester Wallack, with whose famous company he remained for a long time. ' 
 When "Colonel Sellars " was produced, Mr. Ferguson created the role of Clay Hawkins. In "The 
 Mighty Dollar" he played the part of Lord Cairngorm in the original cast. He then introduced a character, 
 now very familiar on the American stage, but in those davs altogether unknown — that is the tramp. This 
 I's " Fairfax." About this time Mr. Henry .Abbey established his stock company at the Park Theatre, New 
 York. In the company were Mr. Ferguson and James Lewis, now of Daly's, who shared the comedy parts, and .Agnes Booth. In 
 the early days of the Madison Square Theater, Steele Mackaye engaged Mr. Ferguson for comedy roles, and he played the part of 
 Pittacus Green in "Hazel Kirke." In "Called Back" at the Fifth .Avenue Theater he took the role of the Italian Macari and made 
 a great hit. He was the original Mortimer in "Beau Brummel." Over a year ago he was engaged by Charles Frohman. In "Charlie's 
 Aunt " he made another "palpable hit" as the amorous lawyer, and in "The Fatal Card" he has been equally successful as a villain. 
 
 
 f^ 
 
 was in Bartley Campbell
 
 
 ., -r^^ '|4. -^^ - 
 
 KATE CLAXTOX, 
 
 MISS CLAXTOX made her 
 first appearance (in the stage 
 in Chicago with Lotta's com- 
 pany. Ill the fall of 1S70 she appeared 
 under the management of Augustin Daly at 
 the Fifth Avenue Theater, Xew York, in the 
 
 play of ".Man and Wife." She failed to attract much attention, except 
 when playing the part of Sebastian to the \'iola of Miss Agnes Ethel in 
 "Twelfth Xight." The resemblance of the two was so great that .Miss Cla.xton 
 often received the ovation intended for the other lady. After spending two years 
 and a half with Mr. Daly's company. Miss Claxton went to the Union Square 
 Theater, then under the management of Mr. A. M. I'almer, and the home of a 
 brilliant stock company. The first hit Miss Claxton made was in 1873, when she 
 played the role of Mathilde in "Led Astray." But it was in 1S74, as Louise, the 
 blind girl, in the "Two Orphans," that .Miss Claxton made tlie great success of her 
 dramatic career. It was her first emotional part. She was playing that role in the 
 Brooklyn Theater on the night of December 5, 1876, when the theater was burned 
 down. About three hundred members of the audience lost their lives, and two of the 
 company were also killed. Miss Claxton showed a great deal of coolness in her elTorts to quiet 
 the audience and to prevent the rush to the doors. She barely escaped with her own life, and 
 was terribly bruised in the struggle to get out of the theater. The story of the fire and of Miss Cla.x- 
 ton's narrow escape was of course widely discussed all over the country, and the young actress became 
 the popular player of the day. It was an evil day for Miss Claxton's chances as an artiste. The 
 vogue she gained by this adventitious advertisement of her Louise betrayed her into believing that 
 her forte lay in emotional parts, and she has been playing them ever since, becoming more whimper- 
 ing and whining with each successive role. As a light-comedy actress she showed such promise in 
 her early days that it is a pity she did not stick to her last. As if she had not had enough experi- 
 ence with fire at Brooklyn, she afterward found herself in the Southern Hotel in St. Louis when it 
 was burned down, and again displayed great coolness and energy, saving her brother's as well as 
 her own life and escaping by a burning staircase that fell just after her foot had left the last 
 step. .After this, a great many superstitious persons thought her so unlucky that they refused 
 to attend theaters at which she played. Then she took to starring. She had previously been 
 married to Isidor Lyon, a Xew York merchant, but in 1878 she procured a divorce from her 
 husband and married Charles K. Stevenson, a handsome young Irishman, who had been leading juvenile at Wallack's. 
 
 — :;4—
 
 BURR McINTOSH. 
 
 BURR WILLIAM McINTOSH was one of the first of the rapidly increasing number of college-bred men to go upon the stage. 
 Mr. Mcintosh was born August 21, 1862. His first ten years were passed in Cleveland, Ohio, and from that time until he left 
 Princeton College in 1883, Pittsburg was his home, where for a number of years his father was president of the largest bitumin- 
 ous coal company in the country. In the fall of 1880 Mr. Mcintosh entered Lafayette College, Easton, Pa., and while there was the 
 college champion sprinter and hurdler, catcher on the college nine, president of his class and of the college athletic association. Later, 
 at Princeton, he held the offices of vice-president and secretary of the Intercollegiate Athletic Association. After leaving Princeton, 
 neither the allurements of the coal business, nor the attraction of the Pittsburg Club, the smart Tuesday Night Club, as a member of 
 which he did his first acting, were sufficient to keep him there. He was ambitious. Wishing to start slowly but surely, he went to 
 Philadelphia, where Major Moses P. Handy, then editor of the A\ic's, gave him a start. He made a record within si.x weeks by e.\- 
 posing, in several columns of daring matter, several of the worst thieves' dives in the city. While there Hartley Campbell offered the 
 young man a position in his " Paquita " company, and a successful debut was made at the Fourteenth Street Theater, New York, 
 August 31, 1885. Since then Mr. Mcintosh has left the stage three times to return to journalism, holding good positions on the 
 Philadelphia Press and Tunes and Pittsburg Times. He has now rolled into a position on the stage which he will hardly forsake. 
 As an actor he has always been connected with the best companies. His greatest successes have been as Tippy Brasher in " Nancy 
 & Co.," with Augustin Daly's company in London, as Col. Calhoun Booker, with E. S. Willard in "John Needham's Double," as 
 Colonel Moberly in "Alabama," as Joe \'ernon, the mighty blacksmith, in " In .Mizzoura," and now as Taffy in the original produc- 
 tion of "Trilby." Here he will probably remain for the coming year at least. Mr. Mcintosh, although the acknowledged head of 
 Southern dialect comedians and successful as he is, is ambitious for playwriting honors. Already five successful one-act plays have 
 come from his pen. As a card manipulator and raconteur, Mr. Mcintosh is well known. He is also a politician. During the reform 
 movement last fall Mr. Mcintosh persuaded over two hundred actors and managers, who had not voted before, to vote the Republican 
 ticket. While in Pittsburgh in 1888 he was the organizer, president and captain of the " Si.K Footers" Republican Marching Club, a 
 club of one hundred and twenty men, all si.\ feet tall or over. The twenty-four axemen were six feet four inches tall, and the club 
 was preceded by the "Midget Band," composed of twenty-five boys, whose average age was thirteen. It is one of the best bands in 
 Pittsburg to-day. Mr. Mcintosh was the champion pool player of the profession and probably is now. When he organized the Five 
 A's Club — Actor Amateur Athletic Association of America — he was the champion sprinter of the profession, and it is an acknowl- 
 edged fact that he can defeat any man of his weight sprinting to-day. Mr. Mcintosh's greatest pride is in the satisfaction that he is 
 the brother of Miss Nancy Mcintosh, the charming American girl who, in less than two years since her debut, is acknowledged to 
 be one of the leading prima donnas of London opera coinique. 
 
 -26-
 
 ''.^t 
 
 ^ ^•fe' 
 
 'i.L-/i 
 
 :^yf..t-^
 
 -y^ 
 
 
 KATHRYX KIDDER. 
 
 THERE has rarely been exhibited on 
 the American stage such a daring 
 piece of work as Miss Kathryn Kid- 
 der's announcement that she had bought Sardou and >Ioreau's 
 play, ••.Madame Sans-Gene. " and would appear as the washer- 
 woman-duchess. The play had made an enormous hit in Paris ; but 
 that was to be hardly wondered at. It was written to suit one of the 
 cleverest of French actresses, who had been born and brought up amid 
 theatrical surroundings and had had an actual stage experience herself 
 of over twenty years ; it was written to fit a woman whom Paris ac- 
 , cepted as a typical Parisienne and was written to fit her like a glove. 
 Showing Napoleon in an entirely new character, it was produced at 
 the height of the Napoleonic fever when persons were watching with 
 strained eyes to see if there were not some •■ man on horseback " coming 
 to save France from the mire through which the politicians were drag- 
 ging her. Of course, it was a success in France, and Madame Sans- 
 Gene Rcjane suddenly gained a world-wide celebrity. But why should 
 it be a success in the United States ? Charles Frohman, who has the 
 reputation of being one of the astutest of .American managers, refused it. 
 So did .-Vugustin Daly, who was searching for some good play to restore the 
 fortunes of his house. Then came forward Miss Kathryn Kidder, who was 
 hardly known to theatergoers, who had not been on the stage ten years, 
 most of that time in a desultory manner, and announced that she would buy 
 the American rights of the play and act the leading role. Mr. Henry Abbey, 
 who was a personal friend of ^liss Kidder's, advised her to have nothing to do 
 with it. The Napoleon craze in this country was too slight to help the piece 
 as it had in France. But she had made up her mind to play that particular 
 part, and I imagine that when Miss Kidder once makes up her mind it is no 
 easy task to induce her to alter it. .So she played "Madame Sans-Gene." 
 and all the world was surprised to find how admirably she acted the role 
 of the Duchess of Dantzig and how beautifully she had staged the piece. It was 
 a bold piece of work, but Miss Kidder's enormous success throughout the country 
 has proved that she was right and the managers were wrong. It would be a ridicu- 
 lous piece of flattery to say that Miss Kidder's Madame Sans-Gene is equal to 
 Madame Rejane's. It is not, but it is a clever copy of it, and gives one reason to 
 hope that ^Iiss Kidder may become an actress of the first class. She has plenty 
 of time before her, since she was born in 1S69. Newark, N. J., was her birth- 
 ^ place, but she was brought up in Chicago. It was in that city that she made her 
 first appearance, at the age of sixteen, as Lucy Fairweather in ••The .Streets of 
 ■^ ^ - New York." When "Held by the Enemy" was produced at the Madison 
 
 ' ^ . y " Square Theater, New York, she played the leading woman's part. Then she 
 
 ^'^W^' went to study in Paris, and on returning to this country appeared as Dearest in •• Little Lord 
 
 Fauntleroy." She afterward gamed much experience in playing with Joseph Haworth in his extensive 
 repertoire. Then she made her great coup by the purchase of ■• Madame Sans-Gene," thinking she might save herself from falling 
 into the rut that most actresses do, if she could produce a successful play in which she owned an interest. Miss Kidder has 
 undoubted ability. She may yet develop temperament. 
 
 —28—
 
 ^^^RW^ 
 
 IKE so many of our young actors, Mr. Faversham is an English- 
 man by birtli. He was educated at Eton's celebrated rival. Har- 
 row, "the school where, loud warned by the bell, we resorted to 
 pore o'er the precepts by pedagogues taught," as Lord Byron, who was 
 also educated at Harrow, wrote. But Mr. Faversham, when he was 
 eighteen, took "French leave" of Harrow, and adopted the boards 
 as a profession. Miss Carlotta Leclercq gave him his first engage- 
 ment, and with her he played principally in the legitimate drama in 
 the English provinces. A certain Miss Helen Hastings induced him 
 to come over to this country to support her in juvenile parts, but 
 unfortunately the public did not appreciate .Miss Hastings' tal- 
 ents, and after two weeks' playing ui New York young Faver- 
 sham found himself "stranded." "To his aid came Daniel Froh- 
 man. who engaged him for three years as a member of his stoc 
 company, and at the Lyceum he appeared in " The Wife " and in " The 
 Highest Bidder." Not playing continuously, and being anxious 
 to improve in his profession, he was at his own solicitation "lent" 
 to Charles Frohnian to create the part of Leo in "She." He 
 then became leading man to Mmnie Maddern, playing 
 m such pieces as "Feather Brain," " .Spite of All " / 
 and "Caprice." He was afterward seen in "The >- 
 I'rince and the Pauper " at the Lyceum, since / 
 which time, e.xcept for a season with Pitou's / 
 stock company, he has been with Charles 
 Frohman. He played in "All the Com- 
 forts of Home," made his first appearance 
 as a villain — Prince V'on Haldenvaldt — in 
 "Aristocracy," and did so well that since 
 then he has been generally selected to fill 
 such roles. Mr. Faversham has appeared 
 as Ned .Annesley in "Sowing the Wind," 
 as Reginald Ffolliott in "Gudgeons," as Sir 
 Brian Keene in " Tlie Masqueraders, " as Sir 
 Herbert Garling in " John-a-Dreams" and as 
 Algernon Moncrieff in "The Importance of Being 
 Earnest." Some of the critics find that Mr. Faver- 
 sliam is too self-conscious on the stage. That is prob- 
 ably the fault of youth, and Mr. Faversham may lay this 
 unction to his soul that that excellent artist, Mr. Kyrie Bellew, 
 was at the same age even more self-conscious. Count U'Orsay used to tell how a very self- 
 conscious friend of his was cured of this besetting sin. He was young and remarkably handsome. 
 One night he was making a very awkward e/iOre into Almack's, then the favorite resort of fashionable 
 London. .-Xn old dowager seated by the door called out to him : "Young man, you are very handsome, 
 indeed; but nobody is looking at you e.xcept me!" .According to D'Orsay's story, the youthful beau never 
 thereafter made an awkward f/i/re'c: If the recipe is of any value to Mr. Faversham and will help him to silence the captious critic, 
 we willingly place it at liis service. 
 
 1
 
 
 [T was the ambition of any number of 
 women, young and old, stout and slim. 
 
 and Miss 
 
 ugly and pretty, to play the role of Trilby 
 when public announcement was first made that Paul M. -*. 
 
 Potter had been conunissioned by A. M, Palmerto drama- 
 tize Du Maurier's immortal novel. If Mr. Palmer could only publish the letters 
 he received at that particular time — some from women who had never " trod the 
 boards," not even as amateurs — they would make mighty pretty reading. But 
 Mr. Palmer is too discreet to tell the public how he was pestered by would-be 
 Trilbys. From the very earliest he had made up his mind that the part of Trilby 
 should be taken by Miss \'irginia Harned, and the stories afloat that other 
 actresses were invited to fill the role and refused, are mere fables, probably 
 started by the actresses themselves. Miss Harned had a difficult place to fill. 
 Everyone who had read the book had formed an ideal Trilby in his or her mind, 
 such a Trilby as no woman could represent on or off the stage, and before the 
 play was produced at Boston, the wi.seacres wagged their heads and pro- 
 nounced it must be a failure, for no true Trilby could be found. But it has 
 proved one of the greatest dramatic successes for many years, 
 Harned's performance of the role of the heroine is one of 
 the best things she has done. Trilby does not by any 
 means play the important part on the stage that 
 she does in the book, and Mr. Potter might well 
 ■" have called the piece " Svengali," but the nMe is a 
 charming and pathetic one. In strong contrast to 
 It IS another of Miss Harned's successes, the part of 
 ^,_^ ^ ., ■• The Dancing Girl." Drusilla had erred as Trilby 
 ■f\^ij^J^ja erred, but she was a cold, selfish woman, a betrayer of 
 -^ * — '"■^ men. It is a curious coincidence that in these two 
 
 plays in which Miss Harned has made her principal reputa- 
 tion, she is in the one a famous dancer, in the other, a noted singer, 
 and that in neither does she dance or sing. In " The Dancing Girl " the 
 audience hears the applause given to a performance supposed to take place 
 • behind the scenes in the Duke of Guisebury's drawing-rooms. In 
 " Trilby " it has to be satisfied with hearing the rapturous plaudits that are 
 ^i, supposed to greet her marvelous singing behind the scenes in the hall of the 
 t-'^^'M Bashi-Bazouics. When Miss Harned was playing the part of Drusilla she 
 J7/^, was occupying the position of leading lady to E. H. Sothern, from which 
 -*'-' she retired two or three years ago. She is a Bostoman by birth, and in 
 Boston she was educated. She became " stage-struck " at the age of si.xteen and joined George Clark's 
 ■company. Her first appearance on the stage was in the part of Lady Despar in "The Corsican Bro- 
 thers." ' Mr. Clark's attempts as a "star" did not meet with unbounded success, and in a very few 
 ■weeks Miss Harned left his company. In 1S90 she became a member of E. H. Sothern's company.
 
 iCopyrijilu liy K. Chltkcriiin, 1895. Hy iwrniissioii u( Har|>i:r lir.j«. uud A. M. faliuur.)
 
 M, 
 
 ii<i^ 
 
 *!'f,\^>^ 
 
 
 
 -■^^^ii^ 
 
 '3 ^ 
 
 /,t7)« -^ 
 
 lOHN MALOXE. 
 
 
 -"T-i 
 
 Z^' ■• -^ ^T^ HE hist performance by a regular company of players within 
 
 I the limits of the now United States was Shakespeare's " Merchant' 
 uf \'enice," given at Wiliianisburg, \"a., in the year 1752. One of 
 the ]irincipal members of the company, and the Shylock of that notable occasion, was- 
 y a Mr. Malone. There had been a very intimate association between the old Irish, 
 family of Malone and the celebrated Charles Macklin, who. was a foster-child of one 
 household thereof, so it is not strange that our American adventurer should have chosen 
 the calling and assumed the greatest character for which his- foster-kinsman was famous. 
 Mr. John Malone, a member of the family which gave America one of her first tragedians 
 and which, in the person of Kdmond Malone, the celebrated Shakespearean scholar, con- 
 tributed so magnificently to the lasting preservation of the English drama, is a Yankee 
 Irishman, born in Massachusetts sometime in the early fifties. His parents migrated to- 
 California while he was an infant, and he therefore is considered by adoption a Californian. 
 His active life opened with a service of some years as a printer boy in the office of his 
 father, who was a journalist. He was graduated from the College of Santa Clara in 1S72 
 and admitted to the Bar of the Supreme Court of California in 1S74. He occupied the 
 position of Assistant District-Attorney of Santa Clara county four years, during which 
 time, having attracted much notice as a brilliant amateur actor,, he was offered a position in 
 the stock company at the Baldwin Theater, San Francisco. Mr. Malone finally adopted, 
 the stage as a member of that company in 1879. After a season- of varying experiences, 
 he won the attention and praise of the tragedian, \Vm., E. Sheridan, who selected him to 
 play some of the juvenile parts in his repertoire. Acting upon. Mr. Sheridan's advice and 
 encouragement, Mr. Malone came East m the year 188 1, and was immediately engaged as. 
 juvenile leading man by Mr. Frank Mayo for a season's tour, in the latter's support, of 
 S yy ' '" , Shakespearean and other standard plays. Thenceforward he continued to be very active- 
 
 ^ff/^r ■\ \ *^v^^X ''"'^ prominent in this class of work. He played several engagements with Sheridan in New York 
 
 ^ II ^ and I'hiladelphia, as well as in western cities, during which he gained generous and unstinted praise for 
 his performances of lago, Edgar and Nemours to Sheridan's Othello, Lear and Louis XI. In 18S6 he- 
 became a leading member of the Booth-Barrett company and traveled withMr. Booth, supporting the 
 latter in all his plays. During this engagement a close and affectionate friendship grew up between 
 Mr. Booth and Mr. Malone, which continued unbroken to the time of the former's death. When the- 
 i) ^ \ ■'^ <#^- '^'\5^ Italian tragedian, Salvini, made his last tour in this country, Mr. JNIalonc was his leading support, 
 Ctii>®i '^''^^^ ST*^!. P'^yiiiS ^^%S> ^'hd other parts with great success. On the occasion of Mrs. Langtry's producing 
 
 • .Macbeth" m this city, Mr. Malone shared with Mr. Charles Coghlan the honors of the support. 
 Since the passing away of Mr. Booth and Mr. Barrett, the Shakespearean drama has not been 
 greatly in vogue, and Mr. Malone has not been so much heard of on the stage as his merits 
 deserve. He has just added a notable accomplishment: to- his well-won reputation as a fine 
 Shakespearean scholar by his performance of i\Iarc Antony in a production of "Julius Caesar" 
 at the Girard Avenue Theater, Philadelphia, where he went under special engagement to Mr. 
 to superintend and direct the production as well as to play.- Ln. addition to his-reputation as an actor, 
 Mr. Malone holds a notable place in literature and is a contributor to The Century, Harper's, North American Revie-n', 
 Forum and other magazines. His pen contributed a brilliant memoir of Edwin Booth to the Annual EncYclopiedia for- 
 J3, and an affectionate and interesting tribute to the memory of that great actor which appeared in the Forum maga- 
 zine for Julv, 1893. He justly claims distinction as a poet by many verse contributions to periodical literature. 
 Like the eider Malone, he is a recognized authority in all matters of Shakespearean study, and his various papers 
 on Shakespeare published both in this country and England- have attracted much admiration. He 
 contributes with much zeal and energy to the revival of interest in the Shakespearean drama by the 
 delivery of lectures, for which work his legal as well as his dramatic training have peculiarly adapted 
 -a**" Ifi'ii- Thus it becomes clear that Mr. Malone is really a remarkable man in his calling, for few who 
 '"" devote their lives to the study of special character for impersonation can manage to find time for those 
 profounder studies whose fruit is literature. To men of this rare temperament, supplemented by in- 
 domitable industry, the world owes that kind of debt on which only the interest can ever be paid. They conserve the best traditions 
 of the stage and stimulate its highest tendencies. They fan the flame of luve for the historic and poetic drama, when it shows an in- 
 clination to die out in the breasts of those literary craftsmen who are tempted to write fur the mere applause and ducat of. 
 the moment. 
 
 —34— 
 
 't^iiSM*'
 
 1 Irom ii pliiitogrniih by Phillips, I'hiladclpliiii.)
 
 ^^ 
 
 4 *y^T/ i 
 
 
 ■-^■*:/r= 
 
 > 
 
 »»^ . 
 
 Junior 
 two seasons 
 part in " The Widow Jones." 
 
 LEST with a temper whose unclouded ray can make to- 
 morrow cheerful as to-day. " This is the temper with which 
 it has pleased Providence to endow May Irwin. She never 
 fails to carry it about with her. on the stage as well as off. She has 
 not, so tradition saj's, been known ever to say an ill-natured thing about 
 anyone except May Irwm. That she does not often do. for unlike the majority 
 of players, she rarely talks about herself, and then only when driven into a corner 
 bv some inquisitive friend. She bubbles over with good humor, a good humor 
 that is catchmg and puts everyone in her company on pleasant terms with himself 
 and the rest of the world. Miss Irwin has, although there are some malicious 
 members of the inferior sex, notably Mr. William S. Walsh, who say no woman can 
 possess it, a very keen sense of humor. In that Bohemia where men of wit con- 
 gregate. Miss Irwin holds her own with bright sallies, and there is no more popular 
 citizen of that land of unconventionality, good comradeship and mental brightness 
 than May Irwm. Of Scotch descent, born in Canada, she is practically a citizeness 
 of the I'nited States, who, when she is not playing, delights to fish and boat among 
 the Thousand Islands, where she owns a farm. She made her first appearance in a 
 variety show at liuffalo, where she sang duets with her sister Flo. Later she joined 
 
 tji^. Tony Pastor's, and for seven years she was considered one of the brightest stars of 
 y-' the variety stage. Then she felt a yearning for the " legitimate " and joined Augus- 
 tin Daly's company. She will tell you how difficult she found it at first not to in- 
 troduce "gags," as she had been accustomed to at Tony Pastor's. Her first appear- 
 ance at Daly's was in Pinero's " lioys and Girls." She created the parts of Susan 
 ' in "A Night Off" and of Lucy in "The Recruiting Officer." She remained with 
 Daly's for four years, during which period she twice visited London, where she 
 made a great hit as Susan. Miss Irwm afterward joined the Howard Athenaeum com- 
 For a season she was engaged by Charles Frohman, pl.iyed Helen Stockton in "The 
 Partner" and was a great success in her burlesque of Ophelia in "Poets and Puppetts. " For 
 she has been playing Elizabeth in "The Country Sport," and next season will play the star 
 
 
 pany.
 
 
 
 
 . CliickcniiK. II'wtiMi.)
 
 ^^^2i> 
 
 JOSEPH H. BARNES was once considered the handsomest actor on the Eng- 
 Hsh boards, and was known in that country, as well as in this, as ' ' handsome 
 Jack." He was formerly engaged in business, but deserted it for the stage, and made 
 his debut in 1871 in a small part in the ■' Bells" when it was first produced at the London 
 Lyceum. Then he was engaged by H. J. Montague, who was trying his hand at that time 
 as a manager, and had not yet come to this country, where he was to become so popular. 
 For the ne.xt two or three years Mr. Barnes was gaining experience in various London \ 
 theaters and in the English provinces. He gained the reputation of being one of the most 
 promising leading men of the day, and in 1S74 he came over to this country to support the beau- 
 tifu'. and gifted Adelaide Neilson. His first appearance in New York was made as Benedick to the 
 Beatrice of Miss Neilson. During the same season he traveled all over the L'nited States with Miss 
 Neilson. acting with her in such roles as Romeo. Claude Melnotte, Orlando and Joseph Surface. His first 
 laurels may, therefore, be said to have been won in this country. On his return to England he played with 
 Dion Boucicault, with Irving and others, and then made a great hit as Captain Crostree in ••\Villiani and 
 -Susan," Will's adaptation of "Black Eyed Su.san." At the Fourteenth Street Theater, New York, he produced the 
 same play on the night of September 19, 1S81, the night on which President Garfield died. He afterward made a tour through the 
 L'nited States in "The World." .About this time we find him in London playing Appius Claudius to the \'irginius of the late John 
 McCuUough, and Macduff and Esse.x to the Lady Macbeth and Queen Elizabeth of i\ladame Ristori. During Miss Mary Anderson's 
 first season in London, in 1883, he was her leading man, and he accompanied her in her first tour through the English provinces. 
 He returned to us once more in 1884 to take the place of the late Charles R. Thorne, as leadmg man at the L'nion Square Theater. 
 Two years later he made another great hit in London in "Antoinette Rigaud," which he played with the Kendals. .As Rigaud he 
 was considered the success of the piece. The same year he joined Miss Fanny Davenport as her leading man for a tour in the United 
 States, playing with her Loris Ipanoff, Charles Surface, Claude Melnotte, Dazzle, Benedick, etc. Again he was engaged to support 
 Miss Anderson in an English tour, and came back with her to the L'nited States. Since that time Mr. Barnes has spent a good deal 
 of his time in this country, playing with the Kendals, with the Jefferson-Florence combination, in "The Prodigal Daughter, " etc. 
 Only the principal features of Mr., Barnes' career have been mentioned. They will, however, give the reader an idea how varied and 
 extensive it has been. It is an instructive record, for it shows how much hard work has to be gone through before one can occupy 
 such a position on the English-speaking stage as Mr. Barnes does to-day. Mr. Barnes joined the dramatic profession at a time when 
 a reaction was taking place both on the English and .American stage. A French company, including Got and Coquelin, had visited 
 London during L' .\iuicc Tt-rrihle, and the undoubted merits of the comedians, their educated feeling for unity and harmony of effect, 
 therr reticence in expression, and the care they bestowed upon the smallest matters of detail, appealed to the young English aspirants 
 for dramatic laurels and received considerable attention from many actors of the English school. The way had been prepared by the 
 grace and charm of Fechter's style, which had successfully invaded the very strongholds of tradition and had shaken some of the 
 most cherished convictions of the English-speaking actor's art. As a revolutionary force, Fechter's influence upon the American 
 and English stage was perhaps the greatest that appeared at the time. His daring endeavor to modernize the characters of poetical 
 tragedy served, even in its failure, to strengthen an already growing conviction that Shakespeare was intended for the closet and not 
 for the stage, and to most of the young actors of the day this was a welcome conclusion. The idea that the poetical drama was dead 
 gave a new dignity and importance to the careful and accurate study of contemporary life and manners. And as the intellectual 
 limitations of Fechter's art tended to discourage the belief in any ideals that he was unable to present, so also, in a purely technical 
 sense, his foreign cadence, which so charmed the ears of his audience, had the effect of discrediting the principles of elocution and of 
 thus preparing English and American audiences for a faithful imitation on the stage of the broken sentences and careless enunciation 
 of the actual world. This revolution in dramatic art, begun by Fechter, was carried a step further in London by the Bancrofts with 
 Robertson's dreadfully namby-pamby comedies — comedies over which, I own, I raved in other days. But aiitres jou> s, autres /lururs. 
 Then the best players of the House of Moliere came to the rescue of English dramatic art, and Mr. Barnes had the good fortune to 
 adopt the stage just as this reaction for the better took place in London. 
 
 VS—
 
 (From n photoirniph hy Falk, New York.)
 
 tation, and for, two years she made a brilliant success of 
 the German theater. Born in Hamburg, she was, so to 
 speak, a stage-child, for her father was leader of the orchestra at 
 the leading theater. She drifted naturally into comic opera, 
 and, when she was fourteen, played the leading role in Offen- 
 bach's " La IJelle Hclene." She had become a star and was 
 playing in ISerlin when she married George Cottrelly, an 
 Englishman, who belonged to a famous family of circus peri'orm- 
 • 1^^^^^^^ -, -- k'^'Hb ^ yy ' ^^^' ■''^^ "^^ on a starring tour in Russia when he died. Then 
 
 M^^^^^^^f, ffll'fesS^* ^^ came to this country to play sonbrette and musical comedy parts 
 
 |K^ Y^ — ' under the management of Adolph Xeuendorff, at the Ciermania Theater, 
 
 *W i.^», \ now Tony Pastor's. Three seasons later she made her debut in English at 
 
 San Francisco and remained there a year. This brings us to 1S79, when she 
 leased the Thalia. Madame Cottrelly made a success of her management, 
 during which she brought Geistinger to this country and reaped a goodly 
 harvest out of the engagement. About this time she became the wife of a 
 Mr. Weste, from whom she was afterward divorced, and became a leading 
 member of Colonel McCauH's opera company. Her former managerial expe- 
 rience came in most usefully, and she practically managed that company 
 during its palmiest days. I recall the Colonel telling me how she not only would 
 rehearse the plays, but would design the costumes and set to work with an army 
 of seamstresses to cut out and make them up. But in due time there came the 
 downfall of the McCauil opera and with it Madame Cottrelly's Waterloo. She 
 found herself heavily in debt — debts which she had not incurred herself, but for 
 which the law held her responsible — and she pluckily set to work and paid them. 
 She joined the Germania Theater in Philadelphia and there played the title role 
 in " Magda, " in which she made a big hit. And then we heard of her playing on 
 the road in •'.■\donis." Madame Cottrelly is now acting the role of Madame 
 A'inard in Paul Potter's " Trilby " at the Garden Theater, New York, and her 
 performance is one of the best in an excellent cast. Mathilde Cottrelly is probably 
 the most versatile actress on the American stage to-day. She has played in high 
 comedy and low comedy and made her mark in tragic parts. She has sung in 
 comic opera, in that bastard comic opera so popular in this country to-day, and in 
 burlesque, and in all she has gained in laurels. One day she is acting in German; the ne.xt, she is performing r.o less artistically 
 in English. We do not know of any other actress of whom this can be said. And Cottrelly is the most good natured of women, 
 who, in days of prosperity, is not puffed up, and, when times are hard, never loses her good spirits. Two years ago she took to 
 herself a third husband, .Mr. Thomas J. Wilson, the son of a Philadelphia clergyman. 
 
 -40-
 
 '■l..v;i;i|ih l.y Cliii fct-riim, lliisloll.l
 
 HAT first 
 brought Mr. 
 Harry Woodruff 
 into public prominence was not any 
 particularly brilliant piece of acting 
 on his part, but his resignation from Charles 
 Frohman's comedy, in order to take a law- 
 course at Yale, with the intention of ultimately, 
 as it was reported, becommg the husband of Miss 
 Anna Gould, now Madame la Comtesse de Castellane. 
 
 This was announced in November, 1S93, when Henry Ingott Woodruff, 
 to give him his full name, was twenty-four years of age. He was born 
 in Hartford, Conn., on June I, 1S69. His father, Samuel \\ Wood- 
 ruff, then of the firm of Woodruff & Beach, is now in business in 
 r, Boston. Harry Woodruff was only nine years old when he made 
 his first appearance on the stage as a member of a juvenile " Pina- 
 fore " company chorus at the Fourteenth Street Theater, New York, 
 n 1879 Daniel Bandmann engaged him to play the part of a 
 page in "Narusso." With liooth, in 1880, he took the role 
 of the Duke of York in " Richard III." and acted pages' parts 
 in "'The Fool's Revenge" and "Richelieu." Then for a 
 short time he was a member of the JSoston Theater company. 
 At Wood's Museum, Philadelphia, he starred as Stumps, a back- 
 woods boy, in "Carrots," and succeeded Eliza Weathersby as 
 Ned. the cabin boy. in "The Black Flag." which Nat Goodwin 
 was producing in 1883. In four seasons young Woodruff played 
 the part nearly one thousand two hundred times. In 1887 he was 
 Palmer's company; then he made a tour of the world, returned to 
 New York and played Anthony in "Ye Earlie Trouble " at the Twenty-third 
 Street Theater. .Soon afterward he joined Charles Frohman's company, played Dr. 
 Pen wick in "The Girl I Left Behind Me," and was acting in "Charley's Aunt" 
 when he decided to desert the stage. In "Charley's Aunt" he had no great part 
 to play, but principally attracted attention among the female portion of the audience 
 on account of his golden, wavy hair, which recalled a mead of daffodils rippled by 
 a gentle western breeze. But to return to his engagement to Miss Gould. Jay Gould 
 objected to his daughter allying herself to an actor, although his eldest son had 
 married an actress. Thomas Byrnes, at that time .Superintendent of Police and 
 Czar of New York, had taken the Gould family under his wing — we have since 
 learned how much it was to his advantage — and sent for young Woodruff. What 
 e.xactly happened history does not relate; but Harry Woodruff no longer wooed Miss 
 Anna Gould. He left the stage and took to law, and the young lady became a 
 French countess. A fashionable Abbe of Paris has since then preached against the 
 iance of the " blue blood " of France w'ith the daughter of a man who.made his 
 fortune by wrecking railroads and bringing misery to the widow and orphan. On dit 
 the effect of that Abbe's sermon has been such that the Faubourg .St. Germain — the 
 noble Faubourg — refuses to recognize the American heiress, which must be some con- 
 solation to the wooer warned off by Superintendent Byrnes. It may be that he will in 
 the near future obtain still further consolation, when, having pleaded to a jury of "new 
 women " the cause of a jilted male, he will procure heavy damages for breach of 
 promise against a member of the overriding se.x and teach it that downtrodden man 
 has a heart which, though broken, can be mended by the mighty dollar.
 
 (I'p.m a phiitiiur.iiih by Falk, New York.)
 
 'HE operatic prima donnas formerly formed a class absolutely 
 unique in special character, as well as special genius. There 
 was nothing in the least analogous to it in any other art or pro- 
 fession, and if the "queen of song" rose apparently without an effort, 
 often m a single bound, to the utmost height of fame, fortune and rank, 
 there were inherent dangers and drawbacks in her career which a study of the class 
 shows that she but too rarely escaped. Rising, as a general rule, from the humbler 
 ranks of society, after a childhood of severe training, with vanity stimulated on one 
 hand by the admiration of friends, and on the other by the criticisms of rivals, she 
 suddenly found herself in the receipt of enormous sums, courted by the highest and 
 talked of by all. With an almost unvarying fatality, she was dazzled by her success; 
 her vanity developed into the wildest caprice ; and often profusely generous, she nearly 
 always became extravagant to the last degree; with suitors of the highest classes, and yet 
 constantly brought in contact with all the strange characters who crowd the outskirts of oper- 
 atic life, she rarely contracted a marriage in which disparity of social position, or her own 
 caprice in one case or the brutality or avarice of her husband in the other, did not prove a fatal 
 bar to happiness. Seldom, too, did good judgment attend her brilliant talents, and rarely retiring 
 from the scene in the full tide of popularity and fortune, her career of brilliant success was and is 
 to-day too often closed amidst the bitter mortificalion of finding her failing powers unable to- 
 prevent all her empire passing away to a younger rival. Such was, as a rule, the melancholy 
 tale of the prima donna's life of half a century ago. Within the limits of the present generation 
 many things have changed and lessened the dangers as well as the excessive brilliancy of the 
 "queen of song's" dominion. Professional culture has increased in extent, at least in pari 
 passu, with popular taste in music. The tendency of Wagner and his school is not in favor of 
 undue exaltation of one brilliant star to the exclusion of all others, and there seems slight prob- 
 ability of again witnessing a musical furore such as were matters of common occurrence up to 
 comparatively a few years ago. It is not likely that the sensation that Jenny Lind made will ever be 
 repeated in this country or Europe ; nor is it probable that any prima donna will ever again be able to command the prices that Patti 
 once did. In proportion as this tendency is developed, the position of the "queen of song" of the day is relatively lowered, and we 
 find now brilliant gifts of nature less frequently associated with wild and romantic careers ending in misery and obscurity. We do 
 not hear to-day of a Cuzzoni receiving the homage of the rulers of the earth and then passing her closing years in such poverty that 
 button-making alone saves her from starvation ; nor do we see the fashionable society of large cities divided into two hostile camps 
 over the respective merits of rival "queens of song," as London was over Cuzzoni and Fanatina. Rosa Hasselbeck Sucher was in 
 her prime at the very head of her profession, at least in Germany. She was acknowledged to be the best Isolde that had ever ap- 
 peared on any stage, and ranked with Materna and Lillie Lehmann as one of the best interpreters of Wagner's heroines. But hers 
 has been a quiet, humdrum life, compared with the lives of the prima donnas of old days. She has been through years of study, 
 temptation and success, and in those handsome eyes of hers you will see shining the gentle light of contentment that shows her heart 
 is as stainless, as simple, and as pure as when a little girl she listened enchanted to the singing of those who afterward in admiration 
 listened to her. Her voice is no longer what it was. It has become shrill in the upper register and somewhat worn in the medium 
 tones, but ten years ago Rosa Sucher's voice could fill the listener with the power of a divine gift that, touching the better part of 
 one's nature, lifted it up to her high conception. When her voice had ceased one felt she had. for the time, removed one from this- 
 sordid earth. She still acts as she ever did, with the worship of her art in her soul. Music she inherited. Her father was a poor 
 music teacher of the Palatinate, who devoted what little time he could spare to her musical education. But she did not like the drud- 
 gery of learning the groundwork, and was lazy. The old man took her with him one day to Leipsic. In the evening she went to the- 
 opera for the first time. Those who sang that night never had so appreciative a listener as that little girl. From that night she 
 worked hard, but she was not completely happy until, at the age of nineteen, she stood on that same stage, a prima donna, holding the 
 audience spellbound by the wonders of her voice. It is a sad pity that she did not visit the United States when she was in her prime, 
 for those who heard her last season for the first time cannot appreciate what a glorious voice she had before the strain of Wagner's- 
 operas had worn it. 
 
 —44—
 
 llr^iii ;i |ih-H..i^r.ii'ii !■)• H-ri, tt. }'-
 
 
 generations \vu 
 
 AX AL\'ARY was born with artistic 
 blood in his veins, for he is the son 
 of Andreas Achenbach, who, with 
 Adolph Schroedter and others, laughed the 
 
 old idealists out of fashion and helped to found the modern realistic school of painting 
 in Germany. He was born, too, in a city — Dusseldorf — that teems with artistic 
 sentiment, and, being the son of his father, he dwelt from his childhood among 
 artists of all kinds — musicians, painters, sculptors, architects, singers and actors. A 
 youth with temperament cannot spend his early days in one of these German cities, be 
 it Diisseldorf or AVeimar, Munich or Carlsruhe, or even in Hanover and Stuttgart, 
 without having his artistic taste discovered. In his birthplace young Max Achenbach 
 found an atmosphere which developed in his nature that high conception and true 
 standard of art which has elevated him to his present position as one of the greatest tenors of the 
 day and one of the most intelligent of operatic actors. .As a boy he had a very sweet voice, and 
 when he was at school in Paris he often sang in its churches, but took no instructions in singing. 
 Later, he studied under that wonderful jiroducer of the human voice, Lamperti. But the era of the 
 Donizzettis, the Bellinis and the Rossinis was passing away. German art had arisen, and Ma.\ Ach- 
 enbach was attracted to Wagner and his school. He foresaw greater success on the German stage 
 than as an Italian singer. He returned to his fatherland, put himself in charge of Julius Stockhausen. 
 of Frankfort, and commenced his public career as a singer in concerts and oratorio. He met with im- 
 mediate success anti eventuallv, against his father's wish, adopted the operatic stage. Under the name of 
 Max .A.lvary, he made his debut at the Court Theater at Weimar. The late Emperor William took a great 
 interest in the young tenor and frequently summoned him to Berlin to sing at state receptions. On 
 November 9, 1S87, .Max .Alvary made his first .American appearance at the Metropolitan Opera House, 
 New York, in the part of Siegfried, and in the same house, rebuilt, he made his hundredth appearance in 
 ■— ' that role on the occasion of a benefit given to him last season. Siegfried he has played in most of the 
 large German and .American cities and in London. It is as the greatest Siegfried of his day that future 
 mostly hear of him. 
 
 -46- 
 
 -y
 
 (Troin a i)hi>to>{ni[ih l)y >uroiiy. -New NurkJ
 
 company. On November 12, 1S77, she 
 
 ARY ANDERSON was 
 in the morning of h e r 
 career when slie retired 
 into private life. A self-trained girl, her 
 birth and breeding wholly uninfluenced by any 
 stage association, she burst out as a star on the 
 theatrical horizon when she was but si.xteen years of 
 age. Her youth, her grace plus belle que la beaute, 
 her intelligence and sensibility helped her in her up- 
 ward Bight, so did her beauty of feature and beauty of 
 refined expression. She had, too, a remarkably clever man- 
 ager in her stepfather. I5ut these only helped, and could not 
 have atoned for the lack of the divine spark with which alone 
 an artist can make a mark upon his generation. Mary Ander- 
 son did carry the sacred hre. True, it was hidden away during 
 the first years of her stage career, but before that career closed 
 Miss Anderson had refuted the charge of her critics that she was 
 incapable of portraying" passion. "Owen Meredith" once wrote of 
 her later Juliet — "All these delicate touches of rapidly changing emo- 
 tion are rendered with an intensity of refined and true expression, 
 so passionate, so tender and so affecting, that I am utterly at a loss 
 to understand how any of Miss Anderson's critics can justify the 
 /^ assertion that she falls off in the stronger scenes where the earnest- 
 ness of the woman is thoroughly aroused." And the author of 
 " Lucille " is generally supposed to have had sufficient knowledge of 
 women to know when and how her earnestness is thoroughly aroused. 
 But Miss Anderson deserted the tragic muse just at the time she 
 was proving that from the gods she had received the gift of genius. 
 The very critics who had absurdly overestimated her powers when she 
 was a raw amateur, had betaken upon themselves to belittle her ability 
 when she had become a finished actress, and, disgusted with the stage 
 and its surroundings, she left her native land to make her home in 
 '1 England, where, as Mrs. Antonio Navarro, she spends a quiet life 
 t, amid artistic surroundings. It was on July 28, 1859, that Mary An- 
 derson was born at Sacramento on the Pacific Slope. Her mother was 
 a Philadelphian of German descent, while her father, the grandson of an 
 Englishman, came from New York. The father fell at Mobile while fighting 
 for the Confederate cause, when Mary was three years old. Four years later 
 her mother married a Louisville doctor, Hamilton Griffin, and it was in Louis- 
 ville that the future actress spent her childhood, and was educated first at 
 the Ursuline Convent and then at a school kept by nuns. The lack of 
 space will only permit of a brief sketch of her early stage career. Charlotte 
 Cushman recommended her to take lessons in the dramatic art from the 
 younger Vandenhoff, and from him she received her lessons — strictly speak- 
 ing, the only professional training she received for the stage. She made her 
 debut on November 27, 1875, at iMacauley's Theater, Louisville, for the benefit 
 of one Milnes Levick, an English actor, who had the misfortune to find himself 
 in pecuniary difiiculties. The play selected for the debut was "Romeo and 
 Juliet," and Miss Anderson was announced in the play-bills thus: "Juliet, by a 
 Louisville young lady (her first appearance on any stage)." The theater was 
 packed, and the Louis7<ille Courier the next morning announced her to be a great 
 actress. 'The performance was. as a matter of fact, a remarkable display of 
 natural talent m spite of its violence and distortion. A regular engagement at 
 the same theater followed, and she appeared there as Evadne, Bianca, Julia and 
 Juliet. St. Louis and New Orleans received her with open arms, and Washing- 
 Mi i ton went into raptures over her, but luckily for the young actress she went to San 
 Jl ' P'rancisco, and there received her first rebuff before she had been spoiled by flat- 
 ^^^ tery. She took the lesson well to heart and set herself to earnest work with a strolling 
 made her New York debut at the Fifth Avenue Theater as Pauline in " The Lady of Lyons. "
 
 (From n photoKniph l)y \\'. mul I>. hmvnc>', l.undoii, Knulmw' )
 
 :^y^ 
 
 
 
 THE younger generation of play-goers can scarcely appreciate the impression created 
 in this country by Tommasso Salvini, the "Prince of the Stage," when he paid us 
 his second visit about fourteen years ago. He had made a previous tour through the 
 United States as far back as 1S73. It was a season of almost unexampled commercial de- 
 pression, but Salvini felt himself sufficiently appreciated to wish to revisit us under kind- 
 lier auspices. He returned, and despite the disadvantage of a very poor support from 
 - i an English-speaking company, he made a furor. He W'as hailed with enthusiasm b^' 
 -ill classes, professional and non-professional, not only throughout this continent but 
 in every part of Europe. He spoke m a language incomprehensible to most of 
 his audiences in the United States and England, and the works of Shakespeare 
 were known to him only through translations. Yet by the sheer force of his 
 inspiration, by the beautiful sound of and the perfect art of modulating his voice, 
 be succeeded in unrolling before those suppiised most thoroughly to have studied the 
 rks he created, pictures, the brilliancy, the vivacity, the life-like truth of which sur- 
 assed all that had been seen before, and created an -enthusiasm second to none — not 
 icn the triumphs of Edmund Kean, of Forrest, Booth or Macready. Salvini had 
 begun with studying and representing the great parts of the poets who illustrated 
 his own country. Then he demanded new worlds to conquer, and turned to the 
 creations of Shakespeare. As Othello, as Hamlet, as Macbeth, and in later years 
 as King Lear, he was hailed with delight by the English-speaking public, and as an 
 old man held the same sway over his audiences as he had done in his younger 
 days. From the highest to the lowest he received adulation. Victor Emanuel of 
 Italy once came upon the stage, and taking Salvini's hand said: "I bow to a 
 King." Paris, which recognizes no glory unless it has received the supreme, 
 the only consecration, baplaiie de Paris, allowed him to be incomparable, and 
 tiie poor of Montevideo subscribed to replace a lost ring which a King had pre- 
 sented to the actor. He was one of those fortunate individuals who could do well 
 everything that he turned his hand to. He had enormous muscular strength, was 
 a splendid swordsman, rider and swimmer, could dance perfectly and was an expert 
 with his needle. As an actor he was, like Adelina Patti, "The Pupil of God." He 
 had, of course, a certain amount of routine to encounter, but he was spared the usual 
 )ng and patient ordeal which most artists have to pass through. He broke down the 
 wall of habit and convention and with his very first essay succeeded in making his 
 name famous. Not of course that he was yet a finished artist, for on the stage, as in 
 all other arts,, there can be no exception to test the rule that the wise artist is the pro- 
 duct of labor and experience. But his genius was so marked that when he was but 
 fourteen years of age he was engaged to play the part of Saul which afterward be- 
 came one of his great triumphs. The lack of space will not allow a detailed story of 
 Salvini's life nor any criticism upon his principal parts. He was born at Naples on 
 January i, 1829, and was the son of a professor of literature. His mother, who 
 died when he was two years old, was an actress of great beauty. It was in 1847 
 when playing Orestes to the Electra of 1-listori that he won his title of tragic actor; 
 and he was only nineteen. When he came to this country it was as Othello that he 
 met with his greatest success. It was a part in which for a long time his country- 
 men, slaves to the Aristotelian limits of classic tragedy, refused to accept him. 
 
 V- 
 
 —6-
 
 iFrom 11 photuKnipIl liy SarDiiy. Nov Vnrli.l
 
 REJANE. 
 
 V the majority of per- 
 sons in this country 
 the name of Mme. 
 Rejane had never been heard be- 
 fore the newspapers related the 
 remarkable success she had met with in the title role of 
 Sardou and Moreau's play, " Madame Sans-Gene." But Paris 
 had for many years back recognized in her one of its greatest 
 artists, so that whenever Rejane created a new character it 
 was on the boulevards the topic of the moment. Her perform- 
 ance of the ci-devant washerwoman who became a duchess ir* 
 le court of Napoleon I. — which tried so hard, and yet in vain, 
 not to be vulgar — is not more perfect than many that have pre- 
 ceded it, but it is the one with which her name will be most 
 closely connected by the world at large. Many a time has she 
 played the heroine of low life; again and again has she repro- 
 duced the grantie daiiie of the noble Faubourg. In " Madame 
 Sans-Gene," Rejane has an opportunity, as one of her critics has 
 remarked, '• to bring all her roles into one focus, exhibit her whole 
 wardrobe and yet remain one and the same person, compress intO' 
 one evening the whole of her life." A most wonderful bit of por- 
 traiture is her Madame la Marechale Lefebvre, Duchesse de Dantzic — who, by 
 the way, was never known as Madame Sans-Gene until Sardou borrowed for 
 er the nom de guerre of Thercse Figueur, the woman dragoon of the French 
 revolution. The incidents of the play may not be history, but Madame Rejane's- 
 ^ performance, one feels instinctively, does present a true portrait of the womanwho.se 
 4\ body now lies in Pere la Chaise, "by the side of her illustrious husband," to quote 
 
 \ . from the inscription on her tomb : the woman whose peculiarities of language were 
 suitable enough to the court of Josephine, but which Napoleon would not tolerate 
 once he had married the daughter of an Emperor of Austria. But, as we have 
 already stated, Madame Rejane had become famous long before she added this char- 
 acter to her repertoire. At the Conservatoire, in Paris, she had divided a second 
 prize with Samary, of the perfect laugh, but Francisque .Sarcey, the all-powerful, 
 thought at the time that she had deserved a first, and predicted for her a great 
 future in her profession. That was enough to gain for her an immediate engage- 
 ment at the \'audeville, whose director, M. Porl, she afterward married, and where 
 ff£) to-day she reigns supreme. She was saved from the Comedie Frangaise, from the 
 depressing care a first prize might have forced her to accept under the wings of the 
 estimable director of the House of Moliere. She made her debut in " La Revue des- 
 Deux Mondes," and met with her first great success as Gabrielle in "Pierre." Then, 
 after nearly seven years on the boards of the Vaudeville, during which period she was- 
 improving with each dramatic creation, she appeared at the Theatre des Panoramas. 
 Thence to the Ambigu, where her interpretation of Madame Cezambre in Richepin's- 
 " La Glu" made a sensation; from there to the A'arictcs ; then flitting for a time be- 
 tween her first love and her latest, she threw both over to accept an engagement at 
 the Odeon. There she rather disappointed her admirers by her performance in the 
 first production of Alfred de Musset's "Fantasie." But it was not her fault. The 
 part was a bad one, the truth being that the play was written for the library and not 
 .■ for the stage. ]5ut she had won high praise from the critics for her performance of 
 the title part in Jules de Goncourt's adaptation of " Germinie Lacerteux, " written in 
 collaboration with his brother. A furious battle was waged against the author on the 
 first night, but Rejane came out of it triumphant. The \'audeville has lately recap- 
 tured the fascinating actress, whose very name (it was Reju before she went on the- 
 stage) suggests the jolly-looking woman (rejouie) that she is, and there she is queen. 
 During her visit to these shores, she has played, or will play, besides "Madame Sans- 
 Gene," Daudet's "Sapho," Nora in Ibsen's "Doll's House," in "Divor^ons," and in- 
 ' Ma Cousine." Madame Rejane has not that reverence for the Comedie Frangaise that 
 enjoys in this country. She considers it no longer has any influence on the Frencli 
 -in short, that its day is past.
 
 (I n.in ,, |.l,..t...;,..ph l.^ K. nlliM... i. 1 .
 
 WHEN Mr. Frederick Pauld- 
 ing became a play-actor it 
 was a very rare thing indeed for 
 persons who belonged to what is vulgarly 
 known as "society" to adopt the stage as 
 a profession. His father, whose name was SjCiS 
 Dodge, wrs a West Pointer. His mother was ^ 
 
 a daughter of Admiral Paulding. To be the son of a Dodge and a Paulding may not 
 have any significance in the wild and woolly West, but in Eastern New York — and more 
 so in the seventies than to-day, when the sacred barriers that guarded the blue blood 
 of the Empire State have been trampled down by iwiivfaux riches — it carried with it 
 . certain obligations of rank. To play Bertuccio in "The Fool's Revenge'' was not 
 5^ one of those obligations. It was in this part that Mr. Paulding made his first pro- 
 .'/ ■ fessional bow before a New York audience in the year of grace one thousand eight 
 hundred and seventy-nine, and "his world" received it with wild enthusiasm. The young 
 aspirant to dramatic laurels had, however, found that a prejudice against amateurs existed 
 among theatrical managers which even the published statement that he was a relative of 
 Henry Irving could not overcome. He had, therefore, to lease the Fourteenth Street 
 Theater, then known as the Lyceum, to gain a hearing. He was a mere lad at the 
 tmie, scarcely out of his teens. At his age only a heaven-born genius could give 
 ^■'^is*^ fitting expression to the profound emotions and violent passions of a Bertuccio. 
 ^Y^ * He did not succeed in reaching at one bound the position that it had taken his 
 S'C ■ '^-' relative John Henry Brodrib nearly twenty years to attain, but he showed himself to 
 % £- ' possess a great deal of talent, which only required application and training to place him 
 
 high in 1ms profession. His youthful ardor led him a week later to present himself be- 
 fore the public in the character of Hamlet, and he succeeded in giving a very respectable 
 performance. As Claude Melnotte he gave promise of better things. 
 Before his first season was over Mr. Paulding had played Macbeth, 
 Shylock and Romeo. When he returned to New York in the fol- 
 lowing year at the Union Square Theater in " The Lover's Life," 
 he had vastly improved as an actor, and was making headway in 
 his profession, but his health gave way, and for a time he re- 
 tired from the stage. On his recovery he became a member 
 of Fanny Davenport's company, and in 1S84 joined Frank 
 Mayo, creating in that year the roles of I'rince Leo in " Nor- 
 deck " and Tom Cooper in " Shadows of a Great City." For 
 the following six seasons he was Miss Margaret Mather's lead- 
 ing man, and played Romeo to her Juliet seven hundred and 
 fifty times. During this period he also appeared as Rudolph 
 m " Leah, the Forsaken," as Del Monte in "The Sea of Ice," 
 as Comparchi in "The Lily of Yeddo," and created the role o 
 Philip Heme. He then became the leading man of the Jefferson- 
 Florence combination. Mr. I'aulding fell heir to a melodrama, 
 •' The Struggle for Life, ' and produced it at the Standard Theater. 
 New York, in 1891. It was written by his uncle, William Irving 
 Paulding, who had left him a handsome sum to insure its pro- 
 duction. Frederick Paulding played the leading part, and staged 
 the jiiece magnificently. He sold it and then returned to legitimate 
 drama in the company of Thomas L. Keene.
 
 MRS. KENDAL. 
 
 PLAYERS earn greater respect when they 
 are reticent about their private proceed- 
 ings, and draw a marked distinction be- 
 tween their lives as individuals and as public persons. We 
 should not find the press poking fun at so great an artist as 
 Mrs. Kendal had she not been very obtuse in this respect, were 
 she not so weak as to make remarks on a subject concerning which 
 ^^^ theatrical audiences have no right or business to inquire. It does not ap- 
 
 "•^^ pear to strike her that if her audiences were worryinglhemselves as to 
 whether William Hunter Grimstonand .Margaret Brunton Robertson had been 
 lawfully joined together in holy matrimony and were keeping the vows they made 
 at the altar of a .Slanchester church, the dramatic situation of such a reunion, for instance, 
 as that of Lord and Lady Clancarty, would be greatly weakened. ''.Some persons," Mrs. 
 Kendal has told the public, "say they like to see us act together — that the very fact of 
 knowing that we are man and wife gives them a certain satisfaction in witnessing our per- 
 formance, which theywould not otherwise feel." Some persons are idiots. Others are not. 
 The sane amateur of the drama pays for his seat not to see Mrs. Crimston, the embodi- 
 ment of all domestic virtues, but to enjoy the art of Mrs. Kendal, one of the most finished 
 actresses of her time. How she reached that position we will relate : Margaret Robertson, 
 or '• Madge " Robertson, as she was called before she married, was born in Lincolnshire, 
 England, on March 15, 1849. Her father, a Scotchman, was a well-known provincial 
 actor and manager in his day, and her mother was an actress who bore her husband 
 twelve children. The eldest of these was " Tom " Robertson, the author of •' Caste." 
 "Ours," "School," etc. Little Madge made her debut in "The Stranger" when she 
 was only four years old, at the Marylebone Theatre, London, which her father was then 
 managing m partnership with J. W., known in this country as "The Elder" Wallack. 
 .At this time, in London, H.\"andenhoff was playing Macduff to Wallack's Macbeth ; E.L. 
 Davenport, the fatherof Fanny Davenport, was appearing in "Hamlet" and "Othello," 
 with his wife, Fanny \'ining, and T. P. Cooke was fascinating the town with his original 
 creation of William in " Black-eyed Susan." In 1S55, we find Madge appearing asEvain 
 " Uncle Tom's Cabin " at the Bristol Theatre. It was at this theater and at the one at 
 Bath, that Miss Robertson gained most of her early stage experience. There was no 
 oetter training school in England in those days. One of the company was Ellen Terry, and the two often danced or sung together 
 in burletta and burlesque. In 1863, Madge played one of the Gentlewomen in "Much .Ado About Nothing," to the Beatrice of Kate 
 Terry (.Mrs. Lewis) and the Hero of Ellen. When she was sixteen, she had become an experienced actress and made her London 
 debut at the old Haymarket Theatre as Ophelia to the Hamlet of a Mr. Montgomery. The actor was too provincial for London 
 tastes, and Miss Robertson does not appear to have attracted much attention at that time. In 1867, she joined the regular Hay- 
 market company under Buckstone's management, where she played with .Sothern. She left the company for a short space, but re- 
 joined it in l»69. In .August of that year she was married to William Hunter Grimston, known on the stage as W. H. Kendal. 
 Two months later Madge Robertson — for her maiden name still appeared on the play bills — created the character of Lilian A'avasour 
 in "New .Men and Old Acres," at Manchester. The next year commenced that series of blank-verse comedies which made the repu- 
 tations of the Kendals and of W. S. (Gilbert. " Pygmalion and Galatea, " preceded by " The Palace of Truth," and followed by 
 "The Wicked World," was the most successful, and all London flocked to see Mrs. Kendal's fascinating Galatea. Nearly a 
 quarter of a century has passed since then, but it still remains impressed on my memory as one of the most perfect creations I ever 
 beheld. After five and a half years with the Haymarket company and a short time at the Opera Coniique, the Kendals joined forces 
 with John Hare at the Court "Theatre. Mrs. Kendal's greatest success there was as Susan Hartley in a "Scrap of Paper." The 
 Kendals now went over to the Bancrofts at the Prince of Wales' Theatre and Mrs. Kendal made a hit as Lady Ormond in " Peril " 
 (" Nos Intimes ") then as Lady Gay Spanker and afterward as Dora in " Diplomacy." The Kendals returned to Hare and joined 
 him in the management of the St. James's Theatre. For seven seasons the St. James was, if not the most financially successful, 
 at any rate the most fashionable theater in London. Mrs. Kendal then achieved undisputed rank as the best of English actresses 
 within the lines laid down by herself. In 1889 she and her husband came to this country.
 
 (I'roin a phntograpli l)y S.intny, New \nrk.)
 
 / 
 
 appear to have shown any early predilection for the stage, nor 
 did any theatrical blood flow in his veins. His parents had intended him 
 for a doctor, but he preferred to try and earn a living with his pencil. It 
 was his love of drawing that led to his adopting the stage, and so be- 
 coming the husband of " Madge" Robertson. When he was a lad of 
 eighteen, he strolled one evening into the pit of the Royalty in Soho 
 and commenced to make thumb-nail sketches of the characters in 
 the burlesque being played. It happened that the manager of the 
 theater was attracted by the clever sketches of the young artist 
 and was so pleased with Mr. Grimston's talent that he gave him 
 not only the entree to his theater, but permission to go behind the 
 scenes whenever he liked. It was not long before he was bitten by 
 a desire to make a fame for himself on the boards. At first he had to 
 be satisfied with the position of a "supe." in order that he might gain his 
 stage legs, but after a short time he was promoted to the dignity 
 of a speaking part — that of a young lover in "A Wonderful 
 Woman." In the spring of 1862 he was engaged to play 
 in Birmingham, but the management failed and Kendal < 
 found himself stranded. But a few months of 
 inconvenience were followed by four years of 
 first-class e.xperience at the Theatre Royal in 
 Glasgow. Charles Mathews recognized pos- 
 sibilities in the young man and took him to - 
 London. In October, 1866, he appeared ■ 
 at the Haymarket as Augustus Mandeville / 
 in "A Dangerous Friend," and soon after ' 
 became a permanent member of the stock ! 
 company of that theater. In 1S67 he played '1 
 Romeo and Orlando to the Juliet and Rosa- 
 lind of Mrs. Scott-Siddons. On August 7. \ 
 1869. he was married at St. Savior's Church, 
 Manchester, to Miss Madge Robertson, who had 
 recently joined the Haymarket company. Mr. Ken- 
 ;" dal became Buckstone's advisor on plays, and to him we 
 owe the production of "New Men and Old Acres." It had 
 gone the round of nearly every management in London, and. 
 affording a curious instance of the short-sightedness which managers 
 ..;ially exhibit, was rejected by all. It found a resting-place at the Haymarket. 
 where, after having been pigeon-holed for some time, it came into Mr. Kendal's hands. He was 
 immensely struck by the play, and told Buckstone so, but the veteran actor would have nothing to do tss^^ 
 with it, until, wearied of Kendal's importunities, he said: "As you think so highly of it, you can play it at your -^^ 
 
 wife's benefit at Manchester." Its success was enormous. Kendal's later theatrical e.xperiences are those of his wife.
 
 v?-% 
 
 il-'roma pliuiograph by ^armiy, New York.)
 
 
 
 the wife of Mr. McDowell, 
 
 THE name of Davenport has long been connected 
 with the triumphs of the English speaking stage. In the last 
 ^■,-w-\ century, Mary Anne Davenport, the original Deborah Dowlas in 
 
 ')_ji^ "The Heir-at-Law," was among the most famous actresses of her day, 
 
 ^*'*' and her husband was a player of some reputation. Edward Loomis 
 Davenport, father of the subject of this sketch, was one of the most finished 
 actors on the American stage, and was equally successful in comedy and tragedy. 
 In 1847 he visited London, and while supporting William C. Macready wooed 
 and won Miss Fanny Elizabeth X'ining, who was a member of the same 
 company. It was in London, on April 10, 1850, that their first child, 
 who was christened Fanny Lily Gipsy, was born. The Davenports re- 
 turned to this country with three little daughters, the second of whom, 
 Blanche, was afterward well known as a singer. Fanny's early education 
 was received in Boston, her father being at that time manager of the 
 Howard Athen;eum. John i\IcCullough and Lawrence Barrett were 
 then leading men in her father's theater, and Edwin Booth was a fre- 
 quent guest at his table. Brought up amid such surroundings, with 
 theatrical blood from both sides of the house in her veins, and with the 
 buzz of stage gossip being continually drummed into her ears — for, of all 
 the people in the world, actors and actresses are the most shoppy — 
 it was only natural that Fanny should become "stage struck." 
 She was yet in the nursery when she wrote a play and acted it 
 with her sister before a most sympathetic audience of children, 
 cooks and nurses, gathered from the neighborhood. By the time 
 she was twelve she had read and re-read nearly all the hundreds 
 of standard plays in her father's library. She was still a child when 
 she made her first public appearance at the Athenaeum in " Meta- 
 mora,"and she was only eleven when she played for the first 
 time in New York, at Niblo's Garden, the role of the King of 
 Spain in "Faint Heart Never Won Fair Lady." For a time 
 she took soubrette parts with a traveling company in the South, 
 and then obtained an engagement from Mrs. John Drew, who 
 was then managing the Arch Street Theater in Philadelphia. 
 While there she attracted the attention of Augustin Daly, who 
 had lately opened the Fifth Avenue Theater in Twenty-fourth 
 street. New York. There, in 1869, he introduced Miss Davenport 
 to his patrons, and there she played with considerable success 
 such parts as Lady Gay Spanker in "London Assurance," Rosalind 
 in "As You Like It," Nancy Sykes in " Oliver Twist," Lady Teazle 
 in "The School for Scandal," and the title role in "Leah." Her 
 great success at this theater was made in the role of Mabel Renfrew 
 in " Pique," which ran for two hundred and fifty nights. In those days 
 New York's knowledge of French was very poor, and wonderful, indeed, 
 were the variations of pronounciation through which the title of the play went : pikeway, 
 pike and pick were some of them. Then Miss Davenport took to starring, and 
 ^_- became a great favorite with theater-goers all over the Union. Of late years she 
 has principally devoted herself to playing Sarah Bernhardt's most successful roles, 
 and to her we owe remarkably fine productions in English of Sardou's masterpieces- — notably the 
 latest, "Gismonda, " which has been most lavishlv and artistically staged. Miss Davenport is 
 her leading man. 
 
 -16-
 
 "■^Ss^^**.^ 
 
 BARRETT. 5p 
 
 ARLVLE has said that "it was not till the nineteenth century, whose 
 speculative genius is a sort of living Hamlet, that the tragedy of 
 'Hamlet' could find such wondering readers." Each of these 
 wondering readers" has formed an opinion, more or less differing from 
 those of the other readers, as to how the part of the melancholy Dane 
 should be played. Nearly every English-speaking actor or player of Ger- 
 man birth fancies he can throw some new light upon a character which, 
 thanks to the elucidators of the divine William's meanings, has become a 
 hopelessly mvolved dramatic problem. The result is that every new 
 Hamlet attempts to be "original," and that the variety of views on the 
 merits or demerits of the performance is only limited to the number of 
 those who have seen it or read of it. So that when l\Ir. Wilson Barrett 
 appeared as Hamlet in 1S84 at the Princess's Theatre, London, we are 
 not surprised to find that one critic .said, "it is not too much to say that 
 it restores to the stage both the text and the spirit of the play," while 
 another declared that Mr. Barrett " has " the honor of having discovered 
 that the heart of Hamlet's mystery is a certain hoiir^cois stupidity, of hav- 
 ing been the first to perceive that Hamlet is an incarnation of the lower 
 middle-class character and the lower middle-class intelligence." Mr. 
 Barrett played the part for one hundred and seventeen successive nights. 
 But the British public had accepted Henry Irving's Hamlet and would 
 have none other. Far better had it been for Mr. Barrett had he stuck to 
 his last — melodrama — in which he had gained for himself both fame and 
 fortune. .After many years of up-hill work, Mr. Barrett was, in iSSi, of- 
 fered George H. Sims's "The Lights of London." Jt had 
 been a-begging for some time, but no manager cared 
 touch it. It made thousands of dollars for Sims and 
 Barrett, and taught the world that the one had the mak- 
 mgs of a dramatist and the other of an actor. As 
 Harold Armytage, Barrett appeared for nearly three 
 hundred nights in succession, and then followed with an 
 equally big hit. Jack Hearn, the gypsy lover in ' ' Romany 
 ye." Then came " The Silver King," by Messrs. Herman 
 and Jones. It is doubtful whether any play of modern times 
 has more forcibly touched the public heart than this 
 piece, or more successfully tapped the public pocket. 
 .As Wilfred Denver, Barrett far surpassed anything he had 
 done previously, and we doubt if he has done anything 
 equally good since. " Claudiau, " by Wills and Herman, 
 and " Chatterton," followed, and then came " Ham- 
 let," with Miss Eastlake as Ophelia. His ne.xt venture 
 was as Jack Veulett in Henry Arthur Jones's "Hood- 
 man Blind," and in 1886 he produced " Clito. " " Ben 
 Ma Chree " and "The Man.xman " have also been 
 added to his repertoire, both adapted by Mr. Barrett 
 
 from Hall Caine's novels. Mr. Barrett first came to this country in 1886, and has since- 
 paid us many visits.
 
 \1 rum a i>lu>t<'^;r.-ii'li I'V l..irr.iu.l, lomioii, l.iiKiuiui.i
 
 ,-« 
 
 %■ 
 
 ,-l 
 
 «c- 
 
 
 
 V— 
 
 
 'E\V actresses don the 
 sock and buskin with 
 so many natural ad- 
 vantages as did Rose 
 Coghlan. She was 
 fifteen years old when 
 she made her theatrical 
 debut. She was fair to look 
 upon, possessed a remarkably 
 rich voice and exhibited decided 
 dramatic talent. That debut was 
 made in 1866. Since then, Miss Cogh- 
 lan has developed into one of the leading 
 actresses on the English-speaking stage, 
 
 and there was a time when, as "leading lady " at Wallack's Theatre, none was rpore 
 popular in this country than she. Born in March, 185 i, at Peterborough, England, 
 ' Rose Coghlan made her first public appearance at Greenock, Scotland, as one of 
 Aa.'mv'- '■.^Vi >■' a. ''^^ witches in "Macbeth." She drifted from tragedy into burlesque, appearing as 
 
 ,/^' , iiV-T i i^:P^^i>ii\ Cupid in " Ixion, or the Man at the Wheel." An engagement followed to play 
 
 'Sr— ^^-^3 i(lfe''>"-^^^^^i^^ soubrette parts at the Theatre Royal, Cheltenham. There she soon stepped into 
 ^^Sn--'^^v?_ *^'^ the shoes of a disgruntled "leading lady "and gained sufficient renown to entitle her 
 
 ' " to a hearing at the London Gaiety Theatre, where she made her first appearance 
 as Tilda Price in "Nicholas Nickelby." In 1871 she paid her first visit to this 
 country. She played " The Woman in White," but the piece proved a failure, and 
 she joined Lydia Thompson's burlesque company. E. A. Sothern was at that 
 time at the Star (then Wallack's) Theatre, in New York. He persuaded Miss 
 Coghlan to join his forces. Her rollicking humor as Mrs. Honeyton in "The Happy 
 Pair," and in similar light trifles, so pleased Lester Wallack that he engaged her for 
 the following season. In the meantime she returned to England, met with great suc- 
 cess in a series of Shakespearean revivals, and threw up her New York engagement. Mr. 
 Wallack, however, offered her the position of "leading lady" in his company, and 
 in 18S0 she again appeared in New York and at once became an immense favor- 
 ite with the theater-going public of the metropolis. Her Countess Zicka, in 
 "Diplomacy," was perhaps the most memorable of her performances during this 
 engagement. When Lester Wallack and his e.xcellent company moved to his new 
 " theater (now Palmer's), Miss Coghlan went with it and continued to play there 
 until 18S5. At the commencement of the season of 18S7-8S she joined the Abbey- 
 ' Wallack company, but threw up her engagement rather than play the part for which 
 she was cast in " L'.-Xbbe Constantin." She returned to it, however, to play in the 
 revivals of some of the old comedies which signalized the close of Wallack's Theater 
 as the home of a stock company. Miss Coghlan then took to starring in " Jocelyn " 
 and " Lady Barter," both written by her brother, and has added a number of new roles 
 to her repertoire. As Lady Gay Spanker, Countess Zicka and Stephani, Miss Coghlan h.as 
 no equal in this country', nor have we seen a Peg Woffington, save Marie Bancroft's, that can compare with hers.
 
 (From n photograph by Sarony, New York.>
 
 J'^X KX 
 
 on the road as C 
 
 of Augustin Daly's company 
 
 R. FRANCIS CARLYLE 
 made his first appearance 
 about thirty years ago, at 
 I5irkenhead, England. But, as his 
 parents migrated to this country 
 when he was a mere child, since 
 he was brought up at Hartford, 
 Conn., has forsworn " allegiance 
 to all foreign potentates, espe- 
 cially A'ictoria. Queen of Great 
 Britain and Ireland," and has v 
 
 • never returned to his native 
 heath ; even ' ' the Society for 
 the Protection of Native Dramatic 
 talent" — or whatever it calls itself — 
 can find no just cause or impediment wh; 
 he should not call himself an American acto'. 
 Mr. Carlvle— he changed his name with his na- 
 tionality—adopted the stage as a profession in 
 1S84, and got his first engagement from Mr. 
 Dan Frohman, who was then managing the 
 Madison Square Theater in New York. He then 
 acted for a season with Lotta, during which he 
 plaved half-a-dozen different parts, and made a 
 particular hit as Dick Swiveller in •' Little Nell." 
 He next appeared with a road company as Doug- 
 las Winthrop in "Young Mrs. Winthrop." Then 
 came a season with Arthur Rehan's company on 
 the road. When "Allan Dare," adopted from 
 Admiral Porter's novel of "Allan Dare and Rob- 
 ert le Diable." was produced at the Fifth Avenue 
 (New York) Theater, in the fall of 1887, Mr.Car- 
 lyle played the title role, Mr. Wilton Lackaye 
 taking the part of his twin brother. Mr.Carlyle 
 was excellent in the part, but the play did not ' 
 prove a success and was soon taken off the 
 boards. The same fate attended the ne.\t 
 piece in which he performed — "Rudolph, 
 Baron von Hallenstein," by Bronson Howard 
 ^^,-^ ■ ..,-. and David lielasco. Mr. Carlyle was now en- 
 
 ^iSsS^ t^'--^V gaged to play leading parts at the old California ,^ -^^ 
 .j.?^.._^0 <~ uJ^ Theater in San Francisco. He then joined the New 
 
 York Lyceum company. He has since made a great hit 
 :aptain West in "Shenandoah," and, in "In Mizzoura," created the part of Robert Travers. 
 
 mM 
 
 He is now a member
 
 Krolu ft phcito^raplt by Kiilk, New York J
 
 ISS MAXINE ELLIOTT'S rich, dark beauty is so remarkable and has been so 
 much discussed since she first made her appearance in pubhc, that most of her 
 critics, we imagine, have, while extolling her good looks, lost sight of the fact 
 that she is one of the most promising young actresses on the American stage to-day, as 
 well as one of the most beautiful. During her short experience, she has made a marked 
 progress in her art. Moreover, she recognizes how very long that art is. This gives 
 promise of even better things in the future. Speak approvingly of her performance in 
 " Diplomacy," and she will tell you that her Dora, especially in the third act, falls very 
 far short of what she feels the true Dora should be. "I have, m four years, 
 earned how little I know about acting." she will add, "and that is something 
 to have discovered." It was in a very small part in "The Middleman" 
 that Miss Elliott started on her journey of discovery in 1891, and Mr. 
 Willard was so pleased with the talent she displayed that he cast her for 
 the far more important roles of Sophie Jnpp in " Judah," and Beatrice 
 Sehvyn in "A Eool's Paradise." She had the good luck to be with Mr. 
 Willard when he first produced that idyll of J. M. Barrie, "The Pro- 
 fessor's Love Story," and so created the part of Lady Gilding. After 
 spending two years with Mr. WiUard's company. Miss Elliott took the 
 place of Charlotte Tittell as Violet Woodman in "The Prodigal 
 Daughter," and then played Kate Malcolm in "Sister Mary," with 
 ;;;^\ Leonard Boyne and Julia Arthur in the leading parts. It was the 
 '*!^ best role Miss Elliott had so far been cast for, and in it she put 
 r some excellent comedy touches. From September, 1894, to the 
 be^nning of this year, the subject of this sketch was with Rose Cogh- 
 i\ fan's company playing Dora in " Diplomacy, " Grace Harkaway in " Lon- 
 don Assurance," Mrs. AUenby in "A Woman of No Importance," and 
 Alice Verney in " Forget Me Not." Dora is a great part, and when 
 Sardou wrote the play and called it " Dora " he intended it so to be 
 considered. As Julian Beauclerc's wife. Miss Elliot proved herself a 
 very charming artiste and, as Mrs. Allenby, a very capable one. 
 She is now a member of .Augustin Daly's company and made her 
 first appearance in it as Heart of Ruby in a translation of Judith 
 Gautier's "La Marchande de Sourires. " The piece was not a success, 
 but through no fault of the company or stage manager. Miss Elliott 
 then played in the "Orient Express," and by the time this article is pub- 
 lished will have appeared as Silvia in "The Two Gentlemen of Verona." 
 
 -24-
 
 (From n photojfrnph !)>• Aiimr Itupnnt, New York.)
 
 #i 
 
 UCH glowing ac- 
 counts of Mr. Beer- 
 bohm Tree's powers 
 as an aclor had reached this 
 country before he made his 
 American debut, that only a 
 genius of the first order could have 
 saved us from disappointment. There 
 are not more than four or tive great 
 geniuses on the stage to-day, and they are 
 ...-^^ tiling nito the sere, the yellow leaf. Among 
 
 r^^^ 3^A S ''"^ younger players of our time, there is not 
 ^f^ '^^^B a one who has shown himself to possess that 
 ^^1 fl^B 1 divine spark which raised Garrick, Siddons, 
 ^^•*- ^^^^^A \ Kean, Booth, Rachel and Talma so far above 
 ^ ■ -^^^^■1 their dramatic contemporaries; none who can 
 replace a Bernhardt, a Duse, an Irving or a 
 Salvini. Possibly there may be a few wast- 
 ing their sweetness on the air of some pro- 
 vincial stage. When we were told that, in 
 London, Beerbohm Tree was considered the 
 successor of Henry Irving, we raised our 
 liopes very high, and we were proportion- 
 ately disappointed. But the injudicious 
 puffery that had preceded the actor, and 
 that he did not reach the standard of our 
 expectations, should not blind us to the 
 fact that Air. Tree is no ordinary actor; 
 that he is a highly-finished artist ; that 
 each one of his performances is worked out by the bran 
 of a man of power, and that in the art of make-up he has no equal 
 on the stage. This art is one that plays a considerable part on our modern, well-lit 
 boards, and of it Mr. Tree is a past-master. But that he lays exaggerated stress on its importance, we are led to believe by his 
 playing the hungry, lean, impassioned poet, Gringoire, on the same nights that he does the sleek Demetrius or the well-fed, sensual 
 Falstaff. "The Merry Wives of Windsor" and "The Red Lamp" is each sufficient by itself for a night's entertainment, without 
 "The Ballad Monger" being added. Artists should be above giving exhibitions of /ours ih' force. Versatility does not necessarily 
 imply genius ; nor does the mere skillful handling of the brush make an immortal painter. Mr. Tree's first season in this country was 
 much handicapped by his poor repertoire. Before it was closed, however, he had sufficiently impressed himself upon the American 
 public to make tliem wish to see him again, and there is reason to believe that he will return to us ere long with some newer and 
 stronger plays than " The Red Lamp," "A Bunch of Violets" and " Captain Swift." 
 
 Herbert Beerbohm Tree is the son of a German named Julius Beerbohm, who, about half a century ago, settled in London as a 
 grain merchant. Herbert was born in 1853, and was educated partly in England and partly in Germany. When he was seventeen 
 years old, he entered his father's office as a clerk, but, being of an artistic temperament, the counting-room was very distasteful to 
 him. He joined a clever band of amateurs known as the Irrationals, and, under the stage-name of " Tree," gained a good deal of 
 local fame as an actor. In 1S7S, he decided to take up the stage as a profession, and made his debut at a matinee performance 
 as Grimaldi. His success led to his being offered fairly good engagements, and for the next five years he played at least a hundred 
 different parts, but did not succeed in setting the Thames on fire. His first hit was made as the Rev. Robert Spalding in "The 
 Private Secretary, " and this was followed by an equally successful performance as Macari in "Called Back." In April, 18S7, Mr. 
 Beerbohm Tree leased the Comedy Theatre in London, and opened it with " The Red Lamp," in which he played the role of Deme- 
 trius. It was on this occasion that his wife, to whom he had been married for about four years, astonished her friends by her skillful 
 performance as Princess Claudia Morakoff. A few months later, Mr. Tree transferred his management to the Haymarket, one of the 
 oldest and most celebrated of the London theaters, and here, in 1891, he produced Henry Arthur Jones's " Dancing Girl," which was 
 the one success of a disastrous theatrical season in the British capital. While touring the provinces that year, he appeared at Man- 
 chester for the first time as Hamlet. It is a Hamlet that differs entirely from'any Hamlet hitherto conceived. Some like it. Others 
 ■do not. Some call it great. Others cJll it comic. Mr. Tree is an exceedingly nervous man, who, although he always knows what 
 he wants, can rarely express it in words. He is, therefore, a most trying manager, and, when he is rehearsing, nearly drives his 
 ■company crazy. But he is so charming when he is not rehearsing, that his explosions and expletives are soon forgotten and forgiven 
 by his employes. He has been called "the Apostle of Progress on the stage." If he succeeds in teaching "stars" to keep them- 
 selves within the "picture," he will not have preached in vain.
 
 (1 K.m :i |.ii.)l"i;ralili l>y Xinmy. N. " ^ "■•-■
 
 si 
 
 £}:(^1^i^^^^M:Aid6^^A 
 
 "'\ 
 
 
 t.>-^\- 
 
 ^ ,. 
 
 \ 
 
 
 ,-X 
 
 -; 
 
 ISS KATHERINE 
 FLORENCE is one 
 of the fairest of the 
 daughters of Eve. But the fatal look- 
 ing-glass does not appear to have 
 ^ spoiled her nor the voice of the llat- 
 terer made her vain. Ever natu- 
 ral on the stage, she does not 
 carry with her the airs of a 
 beauty, nor does she betray ^ 
 signs of self-consciousness. She 
 is not yet a finished artist, and no 
 actress with her short experience ever became 
 or ever will become so; but she always plays 
 intelligently, and never fails to present a charm- 
 ing picture. She has but to persevere in her art 
 and eventually she will, as the French say 
 "arrive." 
 
 Miss Florence has theatrical blood in her veins 
 Her mother, the late Katherine Rogers, was a very 
 finished and charming actress, who came to this coun- 
 try to create the role of Galatea, and we recall her 
 delightful performance in "Formosa," in which 
 Henry Irving, whose genius had not yet been 
 recognized, also played. Miss Florence's educa- 
 tion was commenced at the Convent of St. Gabriel, y 
 I j:^. I'cekskill, N. Y., continued in Paris and completed at Mon- 
 y^^ ' treal. She appears to have early developed a penchant for the 
 
 -' stage, and persuaded her mother, who was starring at the time, to let her 
 ' take the part of the child Jane in " Miss Multon." while she was still a schoolgirl, 
 but her regular debut as an actress was made in Mrs. Langtry's company in " As in 
 Looking Glass. " The following season she was engaged by Mr. Stuart Robson, and 
 hen joined the forces of Mr. W. H. Crane. During the season of 1892-93, under the 
 management of Mr. Charles Frohman, she appeared as Fawn Afraid, the Indian maid, 
 in that most successful play, "The Girl 1 Left Behind Me." Miss Florence then became 
 a member of the Lyceum company of New York, making her first appearance as Vivian 
 ' rray in Paul Potter's "Country Cousins." She was the acting success of the piece, 
 charming, too, was she as Lady Wilhelmina Belturbet in "The Amazons," and with 
 what modesty did she comport herself in male attire! As Lucy Gordon in "A 
 Woman's Silence," Miss Florence made another success. The part was a small one, 
 but she plaved it so gracefully that her performance became the talk of the town, and con- 
 firmed the opinion of amateurs of the stage that Miss Florence has a bright future before her, 
 
 :J^*
 
 (Kroin a iihuto^riiuli l>y Morrison, Chicus"! HI.)
 
 COFFIN. 
 
 'HE visit of Mr. C. Hayden Coffin 
 to America — his native heath — 
 some two or three years ago, was 
 all too short for those admirers of comic 
 opera — a different thing from buffoon opera — 
 that like to see the part of the hero played by 
 an artist who acts as a man and not as an apology 
 for one. A romance, which ended in Sir Francis Jeune 
 granting a decree nisi to a somewhat aged and celebrated sing- 
 ing master of London, was the cause of Mr. Coffin's visit to 
 this country. When the decree had been made absolute, he 
 married the heroine of the romance somewhere out West, and a few months later they 
 bade farewell to these shores. Meanwhile, Mr. Coffin's fellow countrymen and country 
 women had heard him as Waldemar in Maurice Barrymore and Charles Puerner's "Rob- 
 ber of the Rhine; " as the Chevalier Franz de Bernheim in "La Cigale," and as Alfredo 
 in Gilbert and Cellier's "The Mountebanks." None of these roles showed him at his 
 best, but still were sufficient to explain his immense success in the English metropolis. 
 Had he remained longer with us he would doubtless have become as popular in the 
 United States as he is in the United Kingdom. Mr. Coffin's father, who hailed from 
 Maine, was a well-known dentist— or surgeon-demist, as they style them there— in 
 South Kensington, which is not Mayfair nor even Belgravia. but far above Clapham^ 
 in fact a rather superior part of London. There young Coffin began to study at his 
 father's profession, but his passion for music and the unusual richness and timbre of his 
 baritone voice determined him to adopt the stage instead. He made his first appearance in 1885 
 as Cosmo in "The Lady of the Locket " at the Empire Theater, against which the " Prurient 
 Prudes" recently waged warfare. The music was composed by the late "Billy" FuUerton, son of 
 ex-Judge FuUerton of New York. The piece was not a great success, but the costumes designed 
 by Percy Anderson, now at the head of his profession as a designer, attracted great attention. Mr. 
 Coffin made his first great hit the following year as Harry Sherwood in B. C. Stephenson and Cellier s 
 "Dorothy." The opera fell rather flat at first. Mr. Cellier introduced into it the song "Queen 
 lich had been published about twelve years before, but had not attracted par- 
 
 of My Heart, 
 
 play 
 
 ticular attention. Mr. Coffin's splendid singing of this song took London by storm, and "Dorothy 
 stood the extraordmarv test of nine hundred and thirty-one consecutive performances, first at the Gaiety, 
 then at the Prince of Wales', and afterwards at the Lyric, which was built out of its profits. In 
 Mr. Coftin kept up his reputation as an artist by his singing in "Doris," and then as Leighton in " The 
 Red Hussar." Under the Carl Rosa management he appeared as Ralf in " Marjorie," and m "Captain 
 Therese " scored both as dancer and singer. He then appeared as Robin Hood in "Maid Marian, as 
 the opera was styled in London, and won further applause by his picturesque acting and finished vocahsm 
 as Vincent in "La Cigale." He later succeeded the Chevalier Scovel m the tenor role of Franz, which he 
 ;d in this country with Lillian Russell's company, but the part lost power by being transferred. 
 
 
 -SO—
 
 (Kroin a copyri'ijlit |ih"tnj:ra|>li l>y Saroiiy. Nov Vnrk.)
 
 < c 
 
 ^^B 
 
 
 w 
 
 
 m... 
 
 
 V:=^ •> 
 
 
 -^'■^i-? 
 
 dustrv, but 
 
 a conscientiou 
 
 ANNE O'NEILL. 
 
 ISS ANNE O'NEILL, the "leading lady" of William H. Crane's Comedy 
 Company, is the daughter of an old-time newspaper man, an Irish gentle- 
 man, and an American lady. She was born m Glasgow, Scotland, while 
 her parents were on a trip in 1872. Her father and mother resided in Brook- 
 yn, where she developed remarkable talent for the amateur stage, becoming 
 ft in time "leading lady" of the famous Catholic organization known as the 
 Leonardis. With it she played "Hazel Kirke " and kindred roles with 
 marked success, so marked indeed as to attract the attention of the late Steele 
 Mackaye, who predicted for her a brilliant future, and offered her a scholar- 
 ship in' his dramatic school, then just established. Miss O'Neill's first profes- 
 sional engagement was with Richard Mansfield, in whose company she played 
 in the repertoire, securing the commendation of the star and earning the sincere 
 regard of her associates. She was selected by the younger Salvini, with the 
 r-v approval of Manager A. I\L Palmer, to play with the elder Salvini and also 
 ^-^ to support Alexander Salvini in the juvenile leading parts on the off nights, 
 when the old gentleman did not act. Her youth, beauty and intelligent 
 earnestness received their reward, when, after a long and exacting season, the 
 great tragedian presented her with a photograph of himself on which he 
 wrote : " To the only Neodamia. " The Salvini season was of great benefit 
 to Miss O'Neill, as Alexander included in his schedule "Don Caesar De 
 Bazan," " Ruy Bias," " A Night in Rome," and other romanticisms, 
 affording not only him but his company full opportunity for the display of 
 talent along the line of comedy and melodrama. With Mr. Crane's com- 
 pany Miss O'Neill may now be said to be identified, having received a com- 
 -;^i|tif'4^^^^^^H 1/ pliment — all too rare m that hard-worked and little understood profession — of 
 W^'- ,-|^^^^^Hl! an engagement for five successive seasons, with improvement and advance- 
 ment in the line of work and the continued approval and sincere regard, not 
 alone of her manager, Mr. Brooks, but of Mr. and Mrs. Crane, and their several 
 organizations during that period. While in this connection. Miss O'Neill has 
 played a varied round of characters — Mabel Denman and Mrs. Armstrong in 
 "The -Senator," Sophie Hackett in " Brother John," Ida Bruce in " The Pacific 
 Mail," Sweet Anne Page in " The Merry Wives," and again the lead in Miss 
 Martha Morton's new play, "His Wife's Father." Facial and physical beauty 
 y., ,., count for much, it must be conceded, particularly in the dramatic profession, but 
 
 '^' simple charm of appearance never yet steered its possessor to substantial recognition 
 in that or any other line of work. To this undeniable factor Miss O'Neill adds a peculiar 
 adabtability to the demands of the stage, developing not only a continuity of intelligent 
 determination to do her best at all times and under all conditions. 
 
 ■y^ 
 
 —32-
 
 (Fruin a pholoKraph by M()rrisuii, l liuagn, 111.)
 
 @~ 
 
 ^ 
 
 f.r^. 
 
 S^>3i^^i:^^ 
 
 (- 
 
 ><-' 
 
 vf>^ 
 
 
 A "" 
 
 E. |. RAT- 
 CLIFFE. 
 
 GOOD many 
 ^•ears ago tliere 
 . jsag i ^^^ ^^"^^ produced 
 
 ■ a mV J ^^B in London a play called "Babil 
 
 W.f ^ ' m^K^ 1 sB^ft . -' i'^ ^"'^' Ijijou. " and written by 
 
 the late Dion Boucicault. 
 It was widely advertised 
 CjJ' that with this piece Mr. 
 Boucicault would commence 
 the reformation of the 
 English drama. But "Babil 
 and Bijou" did nothing to aid 
 this scheme of reformation, 
 for it was merely a spectacular 
 piece gorgeously staged, and it 
 nearly ruined its backers. There 
 were two striking things in it. 
 One was a body-guard of mag- 
 nificently-built Amazons, head- 
 \0^~i ed by Miss Helen Barry, who 
 
 then made her first appearance on the 
 stage. Another was a chorus of pretty little 
 boys in Watteau dresses, who sang "Spring. 
 Spring, Gentle Spring " to such a catchy air, 
 
 that for years afterward the organ-grinders drove two continents crazy with it. 
 Even to-day you may hear it being ground out in remote villages by ancient 
 "hurdy-gurdies." Among these pretty little singers was E. J. Ratcliffe, the sub- 
 ject of our sketch, who has since become one of our leading young actors, whose 
 photographs had a very large sale until the papers announced that he had surreptitiously 
 taken to himself a wife. Young Ratcliffe was, at the time he was singing the spring 
 chorus, an altar-boy at the Jesuit's Church, in Farm street, London, which has long borne 
 a well-earned reputation for its music. He later sung in the choirs of St. Paul's Cathe- 
 dral and Westmmster Abbey. His voice broke in due time, and the choir-masters- 
 needed his services no more. Presently he betook himself to India to tr\' and 
 make his fortune in indigo-planting; but before he could do so, his health 
 broke down, and he had to return to England. He found his native land 
 overcrowded with young men of education and refinement, in the same 
 predicament as himself — waiting for something to turnup; and while 
 "^ he was thus " Micawbering, " he met Miss Mary Anderson at the 
 
 ^^^ Farm street church, and from her obtained an engagement to take 
 */ ^Jk^ a singing part in "Ingoniar. " This incident is related in order to- 
 ' ' \ point a moral to young men who do not go to church regularly. Mr. 
 
 ,-- . Ratcliffe came with Miss Anderson to this country, and played in every 
 
 one of her pieces. Then he appeared in "Lost in New York," one of the early tank- 
 dramas, and for the three following seasons was a member of Stuart Robson's "The Henrietta" company. Mr. Daniel Frohnian 
 engaged him for the Lyceutii, and he took part in "The Junior Partner," "Squire Kate," "Merry Gotham," "The Gray Mare," 
 "Sweet Lavender," "Old Heads and Young Hearts," "American Duchess," etc., etc. His first great hit was made in "Shen- 
 andoah," and in "The Fatal Card," at Palmer's Theater, he has recently made an equally strong impression. 
 
 -34—
 
 From ii pholuj^nipli \>y Saruiiy, New \urk.)
 
 How sentimental was she 
 in her powder and patches ! — sentimental as became a properly-educated young 
 woman of a hundred years ago who had wept copiously over the adventures of 
 Clarissa Harlowe and sobbed as she read of the difficulties that beset the path of 
 the virtuous Pamela. Sir Joshua, who had painted the fair Sheridan as St. Cecilia, 
 could he have been at the Lyceum Theater, New York, on the night of September 5, 
 1893, would, we dare swear, have asked the fair Kimball to pose for a picture of the 
 sainted Betty ; and, peradventure, had that wily diplomatist. Lord Dufferin, been 
 present, he might have fallen head over ears in love with his great-grandmother. 
 And Miss Kimball's Betty Linley was not only a pretty bit of form and color: it 
 was also a performance that pictured the period of the play. As the young lady 
 had been but five years on the stage, her acting on this occasion surprised her 
 friends as much as it delighted the general public, and the work she has since 
 done but increases her reputation. iSIiss Kimball, who is a native of Grand 
 Rapids, Mich., was as sentimental a young woman in her earlier days as was 
 Betty Linley or any other eighteenth century girl. She was given to reciting 
 to her friends long before she took to the stage as a profession, and the more 
 melancholy the subject, the happier was she. She went to New York to prepare 
 for her career, and for some time studied with David Belasco. Her first appearance 
 was in the part of a maid in "Engaged," and then she played in "A Possible 
 Case," under the management of J. M. Hill. She went to Chicago, to take part 
 in some Shakespearean revivals produced by Air. McVicker in Chicago. As 
 Miranda, in "The Tempest," she made 
 an excellent impression. She then joined 
 one of the Madison Square (New York) 
 Theater road companies and played the 
 role of Stella Darbyshire in ' ' Captain 
 Swift." For a short time after this she 
 was with Richard Mansfield's company 
 and played the part of Agnes in "Jekyll 
 and Hyde." With Nat Goodwin she 
 took ingenue parts in '• The Nominee " 
 and "A Gold Mine," and in 1 891 the 
 leading woman's role in "Chums." The 
 following season she was engaged by the 
 Theater of Arts and Letters and made a hit 
 the Schoolmistress in "Squirrel Inn." 
 Then came the engagement as Mr. E. H. 
 Sothern's leading lady, which she still oc- 
 cupies. With Mr. Sothern, she made her 
 first appearance in "Captain Lettarblair," 
 
 and then created the part of Betty Linley. Since then she has also created the role of Madge 
 in Jerome K. Jerome's "The Way to Win a Woman," a play that did not catch the public 
 taste, but in which Miss Kimball found a part she prefers to any one she has yet acted. Miss 
 Kimball possesses temperament, without which no player can hope to gain a lasting hold on 
 the public. It is a rare gift which those who have it should cherish. 
 
 -36-
 
 (Krom n copyright photograph by Murrison, Chicago, 111.)
 
 ^fp=>^y^ 
 
 
 WILLIAM TERRISS. 
 
 A' 
 
 FIXE, dashing-looking man is Mr. William Terris, 
 
 whose handsome face and figure have gained him a large female clifiitt-lc, while his 
 love of sport has made him most popular among men. During the early part of his 
 career he was here, there and everywhere in search of adventure, every now and then trying 
 his hand at acting, but of late years he has stuck steadfastly to the stage and has brought up his 
 daughter, the fair Ellaline, in the same profession. The son of an English barrister named 
 Lewin, Mr. Terriss was educated at Christ's Hospital, London, familiarly known as the 
 "Blue-Coat School." At the age of fourteen he entered the British navy as a •' middy," but 
 three years later came into a little money and retired from the service in order that he might 
 spend it. Having succeeded in doing that, he went to India to learn the secrets of tea-plant- 
 \). ing, but the life was too monotonous for him, so he threw up his position and started for 
 home. The ship on which he was got wrecked in the Hooghlev, and young Lewin, with the 
 rest of the survivors, had to spend a very unpleasant week on the banks of the Ganges under a 
 broiling sun before they were rescued. When he reached England he turned his attention to en- 
 gineering. He soon wearied of that and took to playacting for a time. But his roving disposition 
 compelled him once more to shake the dust of London from his feet, and he started for the Falkland 
 Islands to see what sort of a sheep-farmer he would make. Si.x months proved long enough to teach 
 him that that was not his avocation, so he set sail for England in a Swedish whaler. Off the Spanish 
 ~' coast the whaler was wrecked and Mr. Terriss spent two days in a boat before he was picked up, 
 more dead than alive, by a passing steamer. Then he returned to the stage, but soon came to the con- 
 clusion that he was a born horsebreeder. With this idea in his head he went to Kentucky, only to discover that once more he had 
 mistaken his avocation. He returned to London and settled down once more to the dramatic profession, which he has not since de- 
 serted. He first came into prominence as Young Thornhill, in the original production of "Olivia," with Ellen Terry in the title role 
 and Hermann \'ezin, an American actor practically unknown in this country, as the \'icar of Wakefield. Then for a time he was 
 Henry Irving's leading man, and in 1889 he paid his first professional visit to the United States and played the dual part in '• Roger 
 la Honte." While here he was attracted by "Paul Kauvar," which he produced in London, himself playing the title role. But it 
 did not succeed in England, and Mr. Terriss returned to the fold of the Lyceum to play Hayston of Bucklaw in " Ravenswood." 
 He has since then revisited this country as a member of Mr. Irving's company, and took the part of Henry II. in " Becket, " played 
 Henry MIL to Irving's Wolsey, and in "Olivia" acted the role of Squire Thornhill, which he had created many years before. 
 
 
 -38-
 
 
 
 'HE success achieved by 
 Miss Camille D'Arville 
 in "Madeleine; or, The 
 Magic Kiss," is well deserved, for 
 she has reached it by hard work. 
 A foreigner by birth and educa- 
 tion, she had to grapple with the 
 difficulties of the English language 
 before she could get a hearing in 
 comic opera, and her career has 
 since been beset with many dis- 
 appointments that would have 
 balked a less courageous 
 woman. A native of Holland, 
 Cornelia Dykstra — that is Miss 
 D'Arville's true name — made 
 her first appearance in 1S77 on V^^'J' 
 the concert platform in Anister- /^^^ 
 dam, when she was fourteen ;r^ -i 
 years old. Having met with some \!l>%Vl * 
 - .^ success in Germany and Austria, 
 
 'J^y^\' '<l._f\ she determined to try her fortune in ^^^ ^i^' 
 England. But she found the realities 
 of London life very different to her an- 
 ticipations of it, and after having experienced 
 the utter valuelessness of the managerial promise, 
 had to be satisfied with an engagement at a music hall. After some months of uncongenial toil, she obtained an opening in comic 
 opera, and found favor with the liritish public in a piece called "Cymba." In "Rip Van Winkle" and " Chilperie" she increased 
 her popularity and at the same time added to her English vocabulary and improved her accent by hard study. She then toured the 
 English provinces with " Falka," and in 1887 returned to London to play in " Mynheer Jan." This was followed by an engagement 
 at the Gaiety Theatre, and Miss D'.Arville's position on the London stage appeared to be established, when a quarrel with the manage- 
 ment made her throw up her contract and she appeared at another theater in the title role of " Babette." She came to this country 
 and appeared in " I'epita," and returned to London to play in "Carina," of which piece her charming archness was the feature. 
 The Carl Rosa company now engaged her to take the part of Yvonne in " I^aul Jones," in which Agnes Huntington as the hero 
 had taken the town by storm. From the same company she obtained an engagement to create the title role of " Marjorie." Seven 
 years ago, i\liss D'Arville returned to the United States and made her reentree with Lillian Russell at the Broadway Theater, New 
 York, in "The Queen's Mate." The entire success of the piece was due to her share in the work. It was an eventful occasion in 
 the singer's career. Miss Lillian Russell was then the accepted queen of comic opera in this country and here was an almost un- 
 known taking the principal part, that of Anita, while Miss Russell was cast for the role of Inez. Before the second act was over 
 Miss D'Arville had completely captured her audience. The old triumphs of " Madame Angot " were then resuscitated by her Mile. 
 Lange. To London she hied herself back once more, and for a time was to be heard at the Trocadero and I'avilion. Back 
 again to the United States, and she made a great hit as Maid .Marian in " Robin Hood," with the Bostomans, who foolishly let her 
 go rather than give her a small increase of salary. She has since appeared in a revival of the " .Mascot " and in "A Trip to 
 Venus," which was not a success. In " Madeleine," judging from present appearances. Miss D'Arville has found consolation for all 
 the troubles she has gone through. Miss D'.Arville has not only a charming voice, but she knows how to use it — vi-hich can be said 
 of only a few of our renderers of comic opera — and to give artistic expression to her songs. She is, moreover, a most competent 
 actress and a very delightful woman off as well as on the stage. She is tall and beautifully formed, and altogether very handsome. 
 
 *3 --^^ ( 
 
 -40-
 
 (From ;i i.li,.i,,^,..|.l, l.y 1 .lit, Now V.irk.)
 
 \ 
 
 i^-. 
 
 
 
 M' 
 
 AUGUSTUS COOK. 
 
 R. AUGUSTUS COOK started life in Edinburgli a little over thirty-six years ago as the son 
 of an officer in the Bengal army. Ten years later he ran away from home to join a circus, 
 and now he is showing us in '■ Madame Sans-Gene " that the first Napoleon created a 
 hornet's nest in his household when he made princesses of his sisters. It is an excellent pre- 
 sentment of the victor of Austerlitz, but only one among a number of remarkably fine por- 
 traits Mr. Cook has given on the American stage during the past ten years. And 
 each one of these pictures has been entirely different from those that preceded it, 
 for Mr. Cook is as free from mannerisms on the stage as he is off. He has one 
 peculiarity, however, in private life. He carries the collar of that estimable old 
 gentleman, Mr. Gladstone. This is a remarkable peculiarity, for Mr. Cook is a 
 small man, and the G. O. M.'s collars are very big. In case any of Mr. Cook's admirers 
 are anxious to make him birthday presents, it were as well to mention that he was born 
 on January 22, 1859. Having served his apprenticeship in the circus, he obtained an en- 
 gagement from Wilson Barrett and played in "East Lynne " with Miss Heath, who, I 
 imagine, was the original Lady Isabel. Such are the turns of fortune in a provincial 
 actor's life, that Mr. Cook next found himself doing the clown in his native city; then 
 he was playing Pierre in " The Two Orphans " all over the country ; settled for a short 
 time in Liverpool to give the inhabitants a taste of his quality as the heroes of Dion 
 Iloucicault's Irish dramas; entered into partnership with another man to take the 
 and soon found himself " broke." He betook himself to Africa, played in Cape Town, 
 fought against the Boers, and got severely wounded for his trouble. Me 
 London at one or two east end theaters, and Augustus Harris took him to Drury Lane. Miss Minnie Palmer brought him to this 
 country in 1885, and, after having been for a short time Roland Reed's leading man, he scored his first success m the United States as 
 Mark Lezzard in " Hoodman Blind." His Lord Sam Slashton in "Fascination," in which he and Miss Cora Tanner, made up as 
 two youths, was another hit. He then joined the Lyceum (New York) company; played Mr. Piffin in "The Maister of Woodbar- 
 row " and David Ives in " The Dancing Girl ; " returned to Edinburgh to be reconciled to his old father after a separation of nearly a 
 ■quarter of a century, and came back to this country to create the American Napoleon. Opposite will be found a portrait of Mr. Cook 
 in the " make-up " of the " little corporal." 
 
 Theatre Royal in that city, 
 Zanzibar and Kimberlev 
 
 Me then played 
 
 —42-
 
 (t ..i>yii>;lii(;(I by Prince, 31 Union S(iimr< . Xt» \ nrk. I'iaic Nn. 3.)
 
 v 
 
 Sl 
 
 / 
 
 / 
 
 s 
 
 J 
 
 MME. 
 NORDICA. 
 
 T" 
 
 HERE was a time 
 when the critics had 
 a habit of describing 
 Mnie. Nordica as '■ that useful and ex- 
 perienced artiste." Should a prima donna fall victim to the ruthless 
 grip, Mme. Nordica was always at hand to fill her place and save 
 the desperate management from nervous prostration. She was 
 ' capable of singing the part of Brunnehilde or that of Lucia; was 
 ' equally good as Susanna in "The Marriage of Figaro" and Venus 
 in " Tannhaiiser. " In short, she was drifting into the shoes of that 
 most indefatigable replacer oi prtiiie donne Mile. Bauermeister, who has 
 been doing this heroic work for nearly thirty years. But there can be 
 nothing more damning to a singer with high aspirations than to be called a 
 •'useful artist." It injures his or her musical reputation with the public as much as 
 being called "a good-natured fellow" destroys the character of a man. Luckily, at 
 the nick of time, Frau Cosima Wagner came to Mme. Nordica's rescue and saved 
 ler from the 'plough into which she was rapidly sinking by engaging her to take 
 the part of Elsa at the Bayreuth festival of 1S94. It did not appear to trouble 
 Mme. Nordica's admirers at all that the possibilities were that Bayreuth 
 methods might ruin the singer's voice. It was enough that she would 
 bear the Wagner cachet, even if her voice were ruined at the altar of the 
 great Richard. It was true that Cosima had lately been accused of think- 
 ing more of " filthy lucre" than of the memory of her husband and true art, 
 and that among musicians the Bayreuth "hall mark" no longer carried with 
 It the value of former years ; but with the public it was as good as ever. So 
 Mme. Nordica sang Elsa at Bayreuth with great success, and when she came back 
 to her native land the critics no longer wrote of her usefulness, and treated 
 her Elsa — which to our mind was always excellent and not a bit improved 
 by Frau Wagner's instructions — as if it were inspired. Mme. Nordica, 
 although an American by birth, had gained a reputation in England long 
 before she was heard in this country as a singer of the first rank. Her true 
 name was Lillian Norton. She is a granddaughter of John Allen, of camp- 
 meeting fame, who reconciled himself to her going on the stage by saying she 
 was " no actress, but a singer." She was born at Farmington, Me., in the 
 early sixties. Both her father and mother's families were celebrated for 
 their voices, but Lillian's voice, even in her youth, proved exceptional, and 
 she was sent to the Boston Conservatory to study music. Her singing at- 
 tracted the attention of the late Patrick Sarsfield Gilmore. He engaged her for 
 , -"^ his concerts. She went with him, too. to Europe on that unfortunate tour, which 
 resulted in such financial disaster. Then Miss Norton journeyed with her mother to 
 Italy and commenced seriously to study il bel can/o. Her first appearance as an opera 
 singer was made in the character of Violetta in " La Traviata." She played soon afterward 
 in "Faust," "Lucia" and ' Rigoletto " with marked success. An engagement followed 
 '/y with Colonel Mapleson in 1887 to sing at Covent Garden, London. The good impression she then 
 made has increased each season, and she has since become a great favorite with the London public, 
 but before she appeared in London she had sang both in St. Petersburg and Moscow, and broken her 
 Russian contracts in order to accept an engagement at the Paris Opera House. While there she met 
 Frederick Allen Gower, her second cousin, who, while in the employ of Bell, the telephone man, had 
 taken a good deal of his salary in telephone stock and become a very wealthy man. He brought his 
 wife to this country, having obtained her release from the opera. jNIatters matrimonial did not move 
 with that smoothness which is always desirable. The Gowers returned to France, and one fine day 
 in 1S87 Fred Gower started in a balloon to cross the Straits of Dover, and not a trace of him has 
 since been discovered. Rumors have now and again started that he was still alive, 
 
 -J- , and persons have even claimed to have met and spoken to him. But there ap- 
 
 ^=r' ..<*J!l pears to be no doubt, whatever, that he is dead, and Mme. Nordica will in a 
 
 ^t:^^ - - ■ 
 
 short time take to herself another husband, Zoltan Doeme, the Hungarian 
 tenor. To return to her stage career, Mme. Nordica — she had adopted 
 the name when she first appeared in Italy — made her New York debut at 
 the Metropolitan Opera House as Leonora in "Trovatore, " Signor Tamagno being the Manrico. She has been a prominent 
 member of the Italian opera companies singing in this country since then. The roles in which she has made an especial hit are : Val- 
 entine in "The Huguenots" and Elsa in " Lohengrin," but there is scarcely a leading soprano part on the operatic stage which is 
 not in her repertoire. In none of them has she made a failure. She ranks among the gKaX prime donne of the day, even if she has 
 not the voice of a Melba or the fire of a Calve. 
 
 :/ 
 
 —44-
 
 PLANCON. 
 
 SAINT POL PLAXgON.or 
 
 •• Pol Plangon," as he signs liim- 
 , self and is generally called, stands 
 
 A high among the leading operatic singers 
 ' , of the day. He has a glorious bass voice, 
 ^^-^ an excellent method, and is an artist ••to- 
 his finger-nails, " as his fellow-countrymen would say. 
 He has, in addition, a very fine stage presence, being almost as tall as M. Edouard de Reszke, and a handsome face. It may be that 
 he will never succeed in effacing the memory of that other great French basso, Faure, for Faures are very few and far between, but 
 as M. Plangon is still quite a young man, there is no telling what heights he may reach within the next fifteen or twenty years. As 
 it is, he has established his reputation both on the stage and on the concert platform in this country, in France and in England, and 
 has made himself a social favorite in all the cities he has visited. M. Planijon comes of a very musical stock, but he is the first of his 
 family to adopt music as a profession. His grandfather was an amateur whose fame as an organist and violinist spread far beyond 
 the limits of his native city. His brother, who is a Professeur de Lycec in Paris, has a voice — also bass — which, were it properly 
 trained, would make his fortune; but he prefers pedagogy to the fascmations of stage life. From his very cradle, M. Planijon was 
 brought up in a musical atmosphere, and commenced humming airs before he could make himself understood in words. As a boy 
 he possessed a very clear and true soprano voice which, the parish priest recognized, would draw neighbdruig sinners to repentance; 
 and young Plangon's lovely voice soon attracted large congregations to the little church. Recognizing that there was a fortune in 
 their son's voice, his parents, after it had broken and developed into a deep bass, had it carefully trained. M. Plangon made his 
 debut in 1879, in the part of St. Bris, at Lyons, and for the following two years remained in that city as a member of the opera com- 
 pany. An engagement to smg Wagner roles at the concerts of M. Lamoureux, who was educating Paris in the "music of the future," 
 followed, and in 1883 he made his debut at the Pans Opera House in the role of Mephistopheles. The summer of 1890, he made his 
 first appearance in the same character before a London audience, and has been engaged to sing at Covent Garden every season since 
 then. For ten winter seasons he had sung in Paris, when he received an offer to come to this country, and, as artists make four or 
 five times as much in the United States as they do in Paris, M. Plangon was only too willing to accept the offer. His first ap- 
 pearance in the United States was made at the Metropolitan Opera House, New York, on November 29, 1893, in the character of 
 Jupiter in Gounod's "Philemon and Baucis." On the same night, Madame Calve made her American debut. At once, Plangon was 
 recognized by both the public and the critics as an artist of the first rank, with a splendid voice. His King in " Hamlet," his Capulet, 
 and his Pogner in the " Meistersinger," established his position. M. Plangon, like most of his countrymen, finds our language an, 
 insurmountable difficultv, and, although he has spent three winters with us, can hardly understand, and much less speak. English. 
 
 -46-
 
 ^^- 
 
 ■^ -^^7"^^^%^^^ "S^^^ VA/'HEN Henry Irving gave his famous lecture at 
 
 y--.-' >i> ~ J*^ ^ ti^e University of Oxford, he chose for his sub- 
 
 -^-^^^^''^J^A^ ject " Four Great Actors." He took Richard Burbage, Thomas 
 /i^ ''?\'^' lietterton. David Garrick, and Edmund Kean as examples of 
 If V "^ players whose eminence in their profession had been secured by 
 Nature, not by the bare exercise of art, or, more correctly speaking, 
 artificiality. To this quartet of English actors, who won their fame by 
 the observance of the laws of nature in the personation of character, a fifth name 
 may be justly added. For an actor less artificial than Henry Irving has not 
 existed. No actor has ever achieved his position in face of greater difficulties. 
 His mannerisms were so pronounced that strangers were startled on making ac- 
 quaintance with him on the stage and unable, at first, to appreciate the beauty 
 acting. No actor has been more bitterly assailed, more violently opposed 
 than he. The denunciation which was poured upon him in his early days in London 
 would have broken a heart composed of less sterner stuff. He fought on, and won. 
 For, behind his hardly-earned experience of the stage, and his magnetism, he had a 
 powerful ally. This was Nature. It was this which made his Hamlet a conspicu- 
 ous figure in the history of the theatre, not for to-day only, but for all time. His 
 Hamlet upset all previous ideas as to the rendering of the character. It did away 
 with the gloomy person on stilts who was often put forward as the Prince of Den- 
 mark. Henry Irving preserved the pensiveness of the character, he remembered 
 that Hamlet was a scholar and a gentleman, and that he lived and moved and had 
 his being in an atmosphere which was lofty and his own. Yet, though he kept 
 the distinction of Hamlet in view, he also bore in mind the fact that Hamlet was 
 a man as well as a prince. It was the humanity of Irving's Hamlet which con- 
 stituted its chief characteristic. It is that quality which has made his rendering cf 
 Hamlet popular, for over fifteen years, in Great Britain and in America. It is the 
 touch of humanity in it v.'hich has secured the admiration of students of Shakespeare 
 and the stage and the general public alike. His Hamlet is sublime, but it is human, 
 also. That is the secret of its success. That is why Henry Irving is the only 
 English actor whose Hamlet holds the stage just as firmly now as in 1878. This 
 Nature in acting — which is not to be confused with mere naturalness, often only an 
 excuse for the commonplace — is the dominant quality of his acting. His playing ap- 
 peals to the intellect, but it invariably appeals to the heart — where such an appeal is 
 possible. It has sympathy in it. His Hamlet, his Shylock, his Macbeth, his King 
 Lear, his Becket, his \Volsey, and his Dr. Primrose, are all touched in this way. In 
 other characters, where sympathy is out of question, the actor fascinates by his 
 personality. He has a larger amount of magnetism than any other actor of his time. 
 ' His individuality is so strongly marked that it, alone, enables him to invest every char- 
 "" acter in which he appears with an air quite his own. Even in following other actors — 
 in such parts, for instance, as Louis XL and Lesurques and Duboscq — there is never 
 any question of comparison, much le.ss of imitation. This personality is so strong that 
 it surrounds every part which he plays. It is a remarkable proof of the value of in- 
 dividuality to the actor. Personality has been one of the secrets of Henry Irving's stage 
 success. But the humanity in his acting is the chief reason of his preeminence as an 
 actor. This is why his name will be handed down to posterity among the greatest of 
 English players. The illustrations which appear on this page present Mr. Irving in six 
 of his most noted impersonations. In the centre, he is seen as the most human Hamlet 
 of our time. To the left, he appears as the diabolical Louis XL; to the right as the 
 murderous, ruffianly Duboscq. Below, he is pictured as Macbeth, as Eugene Aram, and as 
 the most sympathetic Shylock that the stage has ever known. 
 
 —4-
 
 THE charm of personality on the stage has never been more clearly 
 'UL I ( v^^ exemplified, or put to a nobler purpose, than in the case of Ellen 
 
 ii\^ • '■*-' Terry. She makes entirely her own each character that she plays. 
 ""■ To think of her is to think of Ophelia, of Beatrice, of Viola, of Lady 
 
 Macbeth, of Cordelia, of Portia, and of the heroines of many modern 
 dramas. Take, however, these si.K Shakespearean heroines as embodied 
 by her. Contrast, one with the other, her interpretation of these varying char- 
 acters. Think of the girlishness and the pathetic beauty of her Ophelia, and 
 then of the ripe, brilliant beauty of her Lady of Belmont. Her Ophelia moves 
 to tears, her Beatrice, bold, well-defined, and buoyant in its humor, keeps the 
 spectator in a mood of genuine mirth. Again, remember the tender, plaintive 
 grace of her Viola, and then dwell on the sportive humor of the actress in the 
 lighter scenes of '■ The Merchant of Venice," of her own infectious enjoyment of 
 them, of her spontaneity, of her own gayety. Her Lady Macbeth is not the 
 typical hard, fierce, scowling creature of the stage who rules by her head, but a 
 woman who retains her infiuence over her husband through the heart. Yet she 
 preserves the wickedness of the character, and her portraiture of this baneful woman 
 will ever live in the annals of the stage. We can hardly expect to see, in this genera- 
 tion at least, a Cordelia so exquisite, for the successor of Ellen Terry has not yet loomed 
 ^^^^^_ ,, , . . up on the theatrical horizon. The beauty of her acting, the infinite pathos of it, can 
 
 ^&I^^^Km "'"^ fjB^^^ never be forgotten by those who witnessed Henry Irving's revival of " King Lear." 
 
 vv^^^R .4^^^^^^^^^ ^ ''''" ^''^ """ '■'^^ tears which almost blinded the actress, so great was her own 
 
 emotion in the part, and I can feel the heart throb which her personation created 
 at this point. If it were a question of versatility, these Shakespearean heroines 
 would eloquently and effectively plead the cause. And. to these characters, 
 many more might be added — from Clara Douglas, Mabel \'ane, Blanche Haye, 
 Lilian \'avasour, and Olivia of the old days, to the Rosamund of " Becket ' in 
 the present. All these characters, as such, will ever be associated with her. 
 She has shown us the author in each and all of them, but she has beautified them 
 with her own personality. She is the most conspicuous proof which the Eng- 
 lish stage possesses that the idea of the player losing his own identity in the 
 part is altogether untenable. You think of her in each and every character, 
 but vou think of her. also, as herself. It is not that she is Ellen Terry playing 
 a part. On the contrary, and the fact cannot be too strongly dwelt upon, she 
 is, for the time being, the character which she adopts. But she lends to every 
 part in which she appears the additional beauty of her own self. It is individu- 
 ality, personality, call it what you will. It is not anything acquired. It is 
 not the special ability which enables an actor to impersonate adequately, or 
 even greatly. It is not the trick of the stage, or the result of training and 
 experience. It is that which is inborn and peculiar to the actress. It is not 
 physical beauty — as such a quality is commonly understood — but it is beauty 
 nf another kind — it is beauty of heart and of soul. It is the nature of the 
 woman. The beauty of womanhood pervades every part which she plays. 
 It finds expression in her face, in her voice, in her action. Whatever she 
 does, has heart in it. You feel that Ellen Terry has sounded the depth of a 
 woman's nature. Women recognize that in her acting, men know it. Henry 
 Irving has attained his proud and unassailable position by indomitable will, by a marvel- 
 lous individuality, and by the nature which he shows in his acting. Ellen Terry stands at 
 the very head and front of English-speaking actresses chiefiy by reason of the charm of 
 womanhood which is ever present in her work. In the lower of the illustrations which ac- 
 company this notice, she is pictured as Margaret in "Faust," one of her most delightful 
 impersonations. Then she is seen in private dress, and then as Ophelia. The stern look of her Queen Katharine, and the 
 cold, tragic aspect of her face as Xance Oldfield, are happily contrasted by the bright, sprightly appearance of the actress as 
 I5eatrice. Her acting of the latter character is the most conspicuous example of high comedy of to-day. 
 
 ■^ 
 
 \ 
 
 V^ 
 
 ■^'
 
 gSP 
 
 "THE I'iipid rise of this popular young actor has been re- 
 markable. Success has crowned his efforts from the outset. He has reached a high 
 place in tlie regard of the playgoers of America without the long years of arduous training 
 which usually fall to the lot of the player. Like his father, Edward Askew Sothern, he had a 
 natural predilection for the stage which could not be repressed. The first Lord Dundreary 
 was designed by his parents for the ministry, and, in turn, his second son, Edward H. 
 Sothern — who was born in New Orleans, thirty years ago — was intended by his father to 
 become a painter. But he did not take kindly to the teaching of the art school of the 
 Royal Academy of London, and he prevailed on his father to allow him to accompany 
 him on one of his visits to America. That wish granted, he ne.xt obtained his father's 
 consent to try his hand as an actor. He was but nineteen years old when he made his 
 first appearance on the public boards. It was as a member of his father's company and at 
 Abbey's old Park Theatre, New York. The story of that event has been told by the young 
 actor. His father was a severe stage manager, and the son was naturally nervous, so 
 nervous in fact that he entirely forgot his words when the cue came for him to speak. 
 " My father," he said, "was on the stage when 1 made my entrance on that, to me, mem- 
 orable occasion, and I walked toward him ; I didn't say my sentence. I couldn't utter a 
 word, and I shall never forget my sensations when I heard my father e.xclaim, in an under- 
 tone, -Why don't you say something! Can't you speak ?' It had never occurred to me before 
 that people could talk to each other on the stage and nor be overheard. I supposed, of course, 
 that the entire audience was aware of what my father said to me; my chagrin was intolerable, 
 and I got off the stage as quickly as I could. This performance only confirmed my father's 
 opinion that I would never make an actor. Still, 1 appeared with him the next night, and 
 ,,^ after much drilling succeeded in getting off my sentence." Mr. Sothern played with Ins 
 father's company for about a year, and went back to England w"th him. He speedily 
 returned to America, however, and joined the late John McCullough, with whom he went 
 on a tour. Then came the only hard experience in his career. He had to wait a long 
 time before obtaining another opportunity for the cultivation of his chosen profession. 
 But, luckily, he accepted his chance and took a small part in " Mona " at the Star Theatre, 
 New York. The narrative of that engagement is somewhat curious. The young actor 
 frequented the theatrical agencies in vain. But he was never to be seen wandering up and 
 down the south side of L'nion Square — the Rialto, as it was called, in New Y'ork in those 
 days — which was then the hunting ground of the needy actor. He was proud by nature. He 
 was almost beginning to despair of getting an engagement when he received the offer to play in 
 ' Mona." He replied that he would think the matter over, and he went home to seek the counsel of 
 his particular friend, the well-known actor, Mr. Joseph Haworth. "In spite of my varied e.xperi- 
 ences and misfortunes," Mr. Sothern will tell vou in a charming, iian'c manner, "now that I was back 
 \ in New York and particularly since I really had the offer of an engagement that I could accept or refuse, 
 ■ as I chose, I f=;lt my pride mounting; and 1 actually said to Joe, in a very self-satisfied manner, that I 
 did not think I jught to lower myself by taking such a small part in New York, and that I had, perhaps, 
 better consider the matter a little more seriously than I would consider accepting a leading part. Joe 
 turned to me in a half-contemptuous manner, and asked : ' Who are you, anyway ?' " In "One of Our Girls," which followed 
 " Mona," he made his first hit. His success led to his appearance, on May 3, 1877, in "The Highest Bidder," at the Lyceum 
 Theatre, New \ork. In this, he created so favorable an impression that Mr. Daniel Frohman secured his services. Mr. 
 Sothern is still under the same management, and his annual appearances at the Lvceum Theatre are welcome to the amuse- 
 ment lovers of New York. •■ The Highest Bidder " was followed by " The Great 'Pink Pearl," and then came "Lord Chum- 
 ley," the greatest, perhaps, of all Mr. Sothern's popular successes. He ne.xt appeared in "The Maister of Woodbarrow." 
 This was followed by "The Dancing Girl," in which he acted the Duke of Guiseberry, a character, however, in which he 
 was not seen to the best advantage. Then came "Captain Lettarblair," which was followed, last year, by " Sheridan," a 
 piece in which he has found additional favor. The success won by Mr. Sothern upon the stage has been fairly earned. He 
 has the artistic instinct, his methods are marked by refinement, and iie studies his profession with great perseverance, industry, 
 and conscientiousness.
 
 
 MARGARET REID. 
 
 pOR some reason, known only to the management, the name of Miss ^'an 
 Zandt, which had been announced in the advertisements for the role of 
 
 Ophelia in the production of Ambroise Thomas's 'Hamlet,' on P'ebriiary 
 lo, 1892, was withdrawn on the last day and that of Miss Margaret Reid 
 substituted. The audience assembled at tlie Metropolitan Opera House did 
 not seem to be specially pleased at this change. Who was Miss Margaret 
 ^' Reid, anyway } Some ambitious debutante, doubtless, whose services had 
 
 been availed of at the last moment, and who ought to be at a church choir 
 rehearsal instead of attempting to entertain an aristocratic and critical New 
 York audience. However, Lasalle, the great baritone, would be worth hearing. 
 Hamlet was the favorite part in which he had won reputation abroad. The 
 music of the opera was, moreover, a novelty, and the other artists in the cast 
 were of approved standing. So, after all, it would not much matter about the 
 Ophelia — although there were many present who remembered both Sembrich and 
 Nilsson in the part. In the earlier acts of Thomas's ' Hamlet' there is not very 
 much for the prima donna. The only aria had been heartily encored, the con- 
 certed passages to which Miss Reid's voice lent such charm had been well ap- 
 plauded. But the opera is long, and it was after midnight thai I\Iiss Margaret 
 Reid made one of the greatest hits ever known on the lyric stage. In the mad 
 scene, with which the opera closes, Ophelia appears in the white robes which 
 etiquette prescribes for all crazy heroines on the stage, her hair enwreathed with 
 fantastic garlands of ' crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples.' She has 
 the scene to herself, only an invisible chorus at times singing a gentle melody. 
 The music of Thomas is here difficult, though exquisitely sweet. It abounds in 
 difficulties and strange intervals and chromatic runs. Miss Margaret Reid looked, 
 acted, and sang this scene to perfection. The audience was entranced. The 
 curtain fell at twenty minutes after midnight, yet the singer, a stranger to almost 
 all in the house, was called five times before the curtain, the audience standing, 
 cheering, and waving hats and handkerchiefs. It was a memorable .scene, and 
 the young singer must have deemed it the greatest experience of her life. The 
 next day the affair was the talk of the town in musical circles. Here was a 
 charming and pleasing personality, a lovely, velvety voice, an excellent style, all 
 embodied in a voung girl .scarcely out of her teens, of whom few had ever heard. 
 The noble Hamlet cf Lasalle the Frenchman, the magnificent King of Edouard de 
 Reszke, the dramatic Queen of Ravogli, the Roman, were forgotten; Margaret 
 Reid was the sensation of the evening." This extract, from a metropolitan musical 
 paper, was one of the many articles that appeared after the debut of this young prima donna, and chronicles the only 
 case on record where an .American singer has been allowed to make her first appearance on any stage in her own country 
 and among such renowned and talented European artists. Miss Reid may well be proud of this, as it instantly predisposes all 
 patriotic Americans in her favor. At the close of the season at the .Metropolitan Opera Hou.se, the young singer was imme- 
 diately engaged for a number of the Seidl and Damrosch concerts; and, in the spring of 1892, returned to Paris and won 
 European laurels in " La Traviata, " "Rigoletto." "Lucia di Lammermoor," and "Hamlet." .As the prima donna of the 
 famous Bostonians, Miss Reid has added to her list of successes, showing her versatility by singing such wholly different roles 
 as Maid Marian in "Robin Hood," and Priscilla in "The Maid of Plymouth." In "Robin Hood" she is brilliant and 
 daintily coquettish, while as Priscilla she is demure and shy. Her acting is invariably characterized by a simple, quiet, 
 unpretentious, but effective manner. 
 
 y
 
 -^V" 
 
 HENRY CLAY BARNABEE. 
 
 AS a platform entertainer, as a singer, and as a comedian, Mr. Barnabee has main- 
 tained a position and pursued a career which have reflected credit upon the musical 
 and operatic annals of this country. He has, not inaptly, been described as the Jeffer- 
 son of the comic opera stage. His quiet methods, his keen sense of humor, his ability 
 to produce an honest laugh without rolling down a flight of stairs or the usual antics 
 of "knock about" comedians, or by violating the unwritten laws of good comedy 
 acting, have been, not inappropriately, compared to those of the great Rip \^an Winkle, 
 or his illustrious relative, the late William \Varren. whose methods Mr. Barnabee 
 studied assidiously long before he thought of adopting the stage as a profession. Mr. 
 Barnabee. who was born at Portsmouth, N. H., in 1833, spent the greater part of his 
 early career in Boston, where he filled in the time left vacant from business, by reading, 
 reciting, and acting as an amateur. He did not make his professional debut until 1865. 
 but, long before that, he had found much favor in the amusement circles of Boston. 
 He acquired much celebrity by his singing and his humor in an entertainment of his 
 own. which was immensely popular. A "Barnabee night" was an event of singular 
 importance to the audiences of the late sixties in Boston and the neighborhood. Mr. 
 Barnabee's long and honorable career on the stage proper dates back to 1866, in which 
 year he played, at the Boston Museum, Toby Twinkle in ".All That Glitters is Not 
 Gold," and Cox, to the Box of William Warren, at a benefit performance. Subse- 
 quently, at the Globe and Boston theatres, he acted Aminadab Sleek in "The Serious 
 Family," and Henry Dove in Buckstone's old comedy. "Married Life." One of his 
 earliest successes was made in Julius Eichberg's operetta. "The Two Cadis." In 
 " Box and Cox." and in a musical version of Betsy Baker, he was also a favorite at 
 that time. In 1870, Mr. Barnabee organized his own company and went on tour 
 with remarkable success. His rendering of such songs and sketches as "The Cork 
 Leg." •' Blue lieard," "Alonzo ye Brave," " Mrs. Watkin's Evening Party." " Brown's 
 Scren.ade," and " Monks of Old," was the feature of an entertainment that was widely 
 popular in its day. Later on, Mr. Barnabee appeared in a monologue entitled, 
 " Patchwork, or an Evening with Barnabee," in which he was much admired. The 
 iirigin of this entertainment, which for years held a prominent place on the plat- 
 form stage, was almost accidental. A call upon his services in aid of a charity, 
 made it imperative to supply an evening's amusement with as little expense as 
 possible. Ml". Barnabee had grave doubts as to his ability to hold the attention 
 of the audience throughout the entire evening, with no assistance save that of his 
 own ability; but he undertook the task, and liis stories, songs, and impersonations 
 were afterwards woven into the successful "Patchwork." Mr. Barnabee owes to Gilbert 
 and Sullivan his debut on the comic opera stage, his first appearance there having been made, 
 in 1079, in an " Ideal " cast of " H. ^L S. Pinafore." His quaint rendering of Sir Joseph 
 Porter obtained much celebrity for him. Following his appearance as the " rulee of the 
 Queen's navee," he created the Pasha in " Fatinitza." His most prominent hits of late years 
 include Don Quixote, in Mr. Reginald de Koven's opera of that name, Chrysos in "Pygmalion and 
 Galatea," and the High Sheriff in " Robin Hood." Since the formation of the Bostonians, in 1887, Mr. 
 Barnabee has. with Mr. Tom Karl and Mr. W. H. Macdonald, been intimately concerned in the fortunes and 
 management of this famous company. The success, by the way, of that organization redounds to the credit 
 of its managers and of its company, and, also, to the judgment of the public. The Bostonians aim at producing light opera 
 which is at once full of good music and harmless fun. .Mr. Gilbeit's "young lady of fifteen " might witness any of their pro- 
 ductions with much enjoyment and without so much as a single blush.
 
 ,> 
 
 f-y 
 
 
 «.w^y 
 
 "FHE late Miss Brookyn 
 
 was a well-knoun and 
 
 J accomplished actress, whose 
 
 untimely death is regretted V> 
 
 I J by many playgoers throughout this country. She was born in 
 / Cornwall. England, some thirty-five years ago. She came of 
 
 good family and was well educated. The story of her ''-—-' 
 
 connection with the stage is but that of many another member of her pro- 
 fession. From childhood, she had a fondness for the theatre. Her parents 
 were abroad, and she took advantage of their absence to join a theatrical 
 company. She was but fifteen years of age when she commenced her stage 
 adventures, and it is hardly a matter of surprise that her parents should have 
 sent her back to school. But the stage fever was strong upon her, and she 
 returned to the theatre when still young. Much hard work in the English 
 provinces preceded an offer from Mr. Wilson Barrett, who engaged her to play 
 Nellie Denver in Messrs. Henry A. Jones and Henry Herman's fine drama, " The 
 Silver King. " But, from some reason or another, she did not carry out her 
 contract, and, leaving England. Miss Brookyn found a home in the United 
 States. Here, curiously enough, the first part offered her was that of Nellie 
 Denver, but Miss lirookyn was not destined to appear in "The Silver Kng 
 The character in which she made her debut in America was that of Claire ni 
 "The Forge Master." In iS86, she joined David Bidwell's stock company in 
 New (Orleans. She travelled with Mr. Richard Mansfield, as leading lady, 
 playing among other parts, Marcelle in " A Parisian Romance." In iS88, she 
 was leading lady with the elder Salvini. She next joined Mr. A. M. Palmer's 
 stock company. She created Mrs. Page in "Alabama," and made a hit by her 
 acting as Mrs. Ralston in "Jim the Penman." The chief success of her career 
 was made as Mrs. Erlynne in " Lady Windermere's Fan." At the time of her 
 much regretted suicide — which occurred, at San Francisco, on February 15, 
 1S94 — she was still a member of Mr. Palmer's organization. Arrangements had 
 been made to include her m this players' gallery, and. on the very day that her 
 death was announced in New York, a letter, of which the following is a copy, was 
 received here : 
 
 "Your letter of January 16 has been forwarded to me here. I shall esteem it a 
 great honor to be included in your proposed publication. Kindly let me know when you 
 desire photographs and reading matter. I would much rather give you the facts and let you do the writ- 
 ing yourself. Please let me know if it is possible. 
 
 " Yours faithfully, 
 
 " M.\Y Brookyn." 
 
 Miss Brookyn's untimely end is to be regrettea on other grounds than the loss to the many people who appreciated her 
 acting. It is sad to think of the change from the artificiality of the theatre to the sorrow which is often in the life of an actress 
 and of which the public takes no account. Miss Brookyn killed herself m a fit of despondency, due to the death of a man she 
 loved and whose loss she had mourned for some months. The exact state of her mind, immediately before she took her life, 
 will never be known. But she was, to all intents and purposes, perfectly sane. She was not an hysterical woman. Her 
 death can only be attributed to a burden of sorrow which she could no longer bear. A more pathetic end to the career of one 
 whose occupation was found in pleasing the public by the exercise of her art can hardly be imagined 
 
 
 
 4 
 
 -14-
 
 ^'\ 
 
 EDWIN BOOTH. 
 
 He was seen in all 
 
 pDWIN BOOTH was on the stage from 1849 t'" '8 
 
 parts of the United States, in the Sandwich and Samoan islands, in Aus- 
 tralia, and in England, Scotland, Ireland, and Germany. He organized the 
 Winter Garden Theatre, and he built Booth's Theatre, in New York, and in both 
 he was successful. It has been customary to call Booth's Theatre a failure, but 
 in fact it was prosperous while in Booth's hands, and he would not have lost it but for 
 injudicious direction of the financial affairs connected with the building of it, and bad 
 advice at last. The public was always sympathetic with him. and it sustained what- 
 ever he produced : and that is a significant and highly creditable record, for nothing 
 was produced by him that was not good. He had the highest sense of his intellectual 
 obligation to his art and to society, and he was public-spirited and unselfish in all his 
 conduct. Booth was, essentially, a tragedian. His comedy, indeed, was good, in a 
 trenchant way, but it was not superlatively good, except in the expression of sardonic 
 or specious moods, like those of lago and Richard the Third. In tragedy he was 
 superb. He possessed, in great abundance, the qualification of power. His coun- 
 tenance, whether in repose or excitement, was wonderfully expressive. His fine dark 
 eyes seemed to emit the light, as if they were stars. His figure, although slight, was 
 naturally dignified, and his demeanor was marked by intrinsic authority and refine- 
 ment. He had a clear, sympathetic, penetrating voice, and his articulation was so dis- 
 tinct that his lowest tones were wafted easily to a long distance. His delivery of 
 blank verse was perfect in its music and in its meaning. The eyebrows were, in his 
 case, extraordinary for shape, curvature, and Hexibihty — a very valuable attribute to an 
 actor — although incidental and see.Tiingly trivial. His movements, especially when he 
 acted Richard the Third, or Pescara, or Sir Giles Overreach, were iithe, rapid, sinister, 
 and terrible, like those of a panther. He could rise to the most exacting occasions in 
 tragedy — such, for example, as Othello's passion, Macbeth's frenzy, and Lear's invective. 
 His tones were not nearly as deep as those of Forrest, who had the strongest voice that 
 has been heard upon the stage in our time ; nor, as to sonority, did they equal those of 
 Brooke or those of Salvini; but he produced an effect with them that no other tragedian 
 of this age has equalled, by reason of their sympathetic quality. They went directly to 
 the heart. His utterance of Hamlet's delirious outcry, " Nav, I know notl Is it the 
 King ? " was tremendous in its force and overwhelming with its weight of commingled 
 emotions. His delivery of Richelieu's awful menace, bursting from the artistic repose of 
 tense and quivering excitement, leapt like the lightning from a cloud, and carried all before 
 it. In the death scenes of Richard and Macbeth he was so terrible, in the viper-like fury 
 with which he braved his enemies and fought to the last gasp, that sometimes it was 
 scarcely possible to look upon him ; and no one ever saw those sights without a thrill of 
 horror. By those denotements he ju.stified his claim to the title of tragedian. He was 
 powerful wherever power was required, and the spectator of his acting never had to 
 make allowance for lack of etficiency. The effect that was needed was always pro- 
 duced. Such a situation as that in which Lucius Brutus curses Tarquin, at midnight, in 
 the tempest, awakened all Booth's tragic force, and he poured forth a torrent of imprecation 
 that seemed to shrivel his antagonist as with consuming flame. Bertuccio, pleading at the 
 door of the banquet room, and Lear, in the impotence of hall-accomplished lunacy, threat- 
 ening revenges that he has no ability to compass, gave him great opportunities that were 
 greatly fulfilled. He needed moments of that description to arouse him. He was an un- 
 even actor, and not always at his best, but when he was at his best, it was. in tragedy, the 
 best this age has seen. 
 
 WiLLi.AM Winter. 
 
 -16-
 
 HELENA MODJESKA. 
 
 XHE retirement from public life of the 
 distinguished Polish actress will be a 
 distinct loss to the English-speaking stage. 
 America, especially, which has been a home t 
 to her since 1S78, will be affected by the ab- 
 sence from its theatre of Helena Modjeska 
 who, wisely for her own sake, has decided not 
 to "lag superfluous on the stage." Madame 
 Modjeska holds her own among the great artists 
 of the world. Her adopted country owes her a 
 debt which should not be forgotten, and which can- 
 not well be repaid. She has given to America superb 
 renderings of many Shakespearean heroines and many 
 characters in the later classic plays. A woman like Mod- 
 jeska cannot be judged by any of the ordinary methods of 
 criticism. She is a distinct individuality and she imbues 
 whatever part she plays a-ith her own nature. Fortunately, 
 that nature is a fine one. It is the nature of the artist. 
 It can be seen in whatever character she undertakes, be it 
 Adrienne, Camille, Juliet, Rosalind, or Portia. She is a 
 little too feline on the stage for all parts. She has the 
 panther's undulating grace and its attractiveness. She 
 fills the stage completely, she draws and retains attention. 
 In watching her, even for the first time, you feel that a 
 woman of uncommon ability is before you. Her finely- 
 modelled, expressive face, and her quick, flashing eyes, which glow 
 with the light of intellect, illumine whatever scene she plays. 
 She is one of the few actresses of the world who have fire in their 
 composition. She gives life to whatever she touches. The radi- 
 ance of her own nature permeates the part. When she first 
 played Juliet, I was sent from London to witness her performance. 
 And, even at this distance of time, 1 can recall how she im- 
 pressed me with a sense of power, how her earlier scenes, although 
 wanting in girlishness and simplicity, gave good promise of fine acting 
 to come, and how that promise was realized by her thrilling acting in 
 the potion scene. Modjeska's training and long experience enable her 
 to keep herself well in hand, to hold her forces in reserve, not to let 
 herself go until the proper moment. She constantly suggests power, 
 but she seldom uses it. It is with her a case of the much discussed 
 "reserve force." Only, with Modjeska, the force is ready when it is 
 required. We found that out m England when she played Adrienne 
 Lecouvreur and made a fine effect by the dignity, as well as the magnif- 
 icent power, with which she acted the famous scene, in the third act, 
 from "Phedre." Londoners, who remember her chiefly by her exqui- 
 site acting in "Heartsease" — James Mortimer's clever adaptation of 
 " La Dame aux Camelias " — have seen too little of this gifted and ac- 
 complished actress. London's loss has been America's gain. It is to be hoped that 
 this actress will not be allowed to depart for her native land without a fitting testimonial 
 to her merit from her brother and sister artists and from the public. 
 
 -18—
 
 LEONARD BOYNE. 
 
 MR. BOYXE has not been twelve months here, but. 
 from the first, he estabHshed himself with the 
 American audience, and he has already become an important factor in the 
 theatre of this country. The character of Captain Harry Vernon, which, so 
 far, has been his only opportunity for showing his mettle, is not by aiiy-^ means 
 a brilliant one. But it proves what earnestness can do for an actor. ""' 
 of such a play as "The Prodigal Daughter," must be sincere "" 
 sincerity in his (ace, in his voice, in his acting; otherwise, there would be no m- 
 terest in him. This sincerity has been a wonderful help to Mr. Boyne through- 
 out his career, and it has stood him in good stead in his new home — for an actor 
 of such ability will not be readily allowed to depart from these hospitable 
 shores. Another factor in Mr. Boyne's success is an air of distinction which 
 covers all that he does. When he appears as a gentleman, he is a gentleman, 
 not an actor with the veneer of one. For this, his birth, education, and subse- 
 quent training and experience are responsible. He conies of an old Irish county 
 family. Most of his ancestors were in the army, some in the church, others in 
 the Irish Civil Service. It was while "cramming" for the army, in Dublin, 
 that he elected to enter the dramatic profession, instead of becoming an officer 
 in a cavalry regiment, a position requiring a larger expenditure than he was jus- 
 tified in making. His first successes were won in Dubhn, but it was not long 
 before London recognized his talent. For the last fifteen years or so. there has 
 not been anv more popular leading young man, or, be it remarked incidentally, 
 a more highly paid one, in London. His record there is one of unbroken suc- 
 cess. It "commenced with Midwinter in "Miss Gwilt," in 1876, and ended, for 
 the time being, with Harrv A'ernon in "The Prodigal Daughter," in 1893. In 
 the meantime, he had acted Romeo and Benedick with the best female stars of 
 the day, throughout the English provinces, where, also, he was the original 
 Harold' Army tage in "The Lights o' London," and the original Claudian. Tom 
 Jones, in Mr. Robert Buchanan's play of that name, Andreas in the English 
 version of " Theodora," and George d'Alroy in "Caste," are to be included m 
 his chief London successes. At the Adelph'i, he won increased favor as Badger ^ 
 in "The Streets of London," Harry O'Mailey in "The English Rose," 
 Cuthbert Cuthbertsone in " The Trumpet Call," and Colonel Everard m 
 " The White Rose." At London's other great melodramatic house, Drur>' 
 Lane, he was, in addition to Harry Vernon, the origmal \'yvyan Foster 
 in " The Armada." But the great'success of his career has been Captain 
 Walter Leigh in "Sister Mary," a character in which he will be seen in 
 New York in May. Mr. Boyne's high position has not been achieved 
 without hard work, added to the natural capacity for acting. He is equally 
 at home with a coach and four-in-hand and on the stage. He is a capital 
 horseman, and is known among his friends as a "good fellow." But his 
 success is not due to outside or personal influence. It has been made by down- 
 right good acting. One of the chief qualities of Mr. Boyne's acting is his 
 power of holding his audience. He has presence, but he has power, too. 
 Therein he differs from the ordinary leading young man. He impresses 
 with his earnestness, his belief in what he is doing. He holds his audience in 
 the hollow of his hand, so to speak. He has the actor's ability for depicting 
 character, but he has a strong personality, so that he stamps all his performances 
 with his individuality. And the most notable thing about his individuality is his 
 earnestness in whatever he does. It may possibly seem unnecessary to praise 
 earnestness on the stage, for earnestness is essential to acting in its highest form. 
 But many of our younger players are sadly deficient in sincerity, an element 
 which has had much to do with Mr. Boyne's success. 
 
 '^« ^- 
 
 ♦*-.;*
 
 JESSIE BARTLETT DAVIS. 
 
 Y\/HEN nature wishes to be particularly generous she selects a 
 
 beautiful woman, and, after endowing her with a lovely 
 
 voice and that touch of genius without which even the most perfect 
 
 of voices is but an inanimate thing, adds the qualities of ambition. 
 
 energy, and perseverance; a rare combination, indeed, but one that 
 
 IS indispensable if the result is to be a great artist. And to many — 
 
 probably the largest proportion — of music lovers, the acme of this 
 
 perfection is reached when that voice is the deep-toned organ of the 
 
 contralto, with its sensuous diapason of full, rich color — " Violet," 
 
 fi ,^^ George -Sand calls it — and its tender loveliness that appeals so directly 
 
 J iLj^ rfli^VA to the heart. A perfect tmbodiment of these essentials of a true artist 
 
 e ( WP'^ii^'Wt 'w^ '^ ''^^ subject of the present notice, Jessie Bartlett Davis, who stands 
 
 ' i Ml WU^ M to-day at the very head of her profession, and is a worthy successor to 
 
 the position and triumphs of the two famous American contraltos who 
 have preceded her — Adelaide Phillips and Annie Louise Gary. With 
 a voice of the most comprehensive register and incomparable beauty of 
 tone quality, Mrs. Davis combines an intelligence of the rarest order, 
 embracing, as it does at once, the musical intuition of the born singer 
 and an absolutely unerring dramatic instinct. These gifts of nature, 
 supplemented with the knowledge and experience that comes alone of 
 the most faithful application and unwearying, earnest study, have not 
 failed to win the recognition they have richly merited, and to-day Mrs. 
 Davis may be justly classed among the first favorites of our public, 
 which is always prompt to discern true merit. The early career of 
 every artist who attains distinction is one of work — much work and 
 hard work. And Jessie Bartlett Davis has not been spared her share 
 of this; the ladder of fame has not been scaled without much effort. 
 From the day of her debut — as a mere child — with Caroline Richings, 
 through her successive engagements with the Carleton company and 
 the ill-fated but brilliant seasons of the American opera, she has studied 
 and played many parts, ranging from Little Buttercup, in '• If. M. S. 
 Pinafore," to Ortrud in " Lohengrin," gathering from each new laurels 
 as a singer and new experiences of her art as an actress. Thus it 
 came that when — after an additional term of study abroad — she ac- 
 cepted the position as leading contralto of the Bostonians, she did so 
 fully equipped for the wide range of parts in which she has since 
 become famous, playing Fatinitza on one evening. Carmen the next, 
 Azucena on the third, Allen-a-dale on the fourth, and so on ; alternating 
 between comedy and tragedy with unvarying success, and singing the 
 roles of a mezzo-soprano or contralto with equal beauty of voice and 
 charm of style. Her triumphs in "Lakme," "Faust," "The Merry 
 Wives of Windsor," and other great works when she was a member 
 '"^ of the American Opera company, are part of the musical history of the 
 
 country. During the recent season of the Bostonians in New York, she has 
 been seen as an Indian girl in two pieces, first of all, in "The Maid of Plymouth," and 
 then in "The Olgallalas." This brief review may be fittingly concluded with an extract 
 from an article which appeared in T//f Ilhtsirated Aiiierican in August, 1892: "Jessie 
 Bartlett Davis is as beautiful as she is talented. Her face is of exquisite mould, with 
 eyes bright with the light of intellectuality: her figure is superb, and in organization she is loving, fervent, modest, brave — the 
 very type of a true woman's nature.
 
 /. 
 
 * *^ "^sg^ 
 
 /^ 
 
 BELLKW. 
 
 A MONG the romantic actors of to-day, Mr, Bellew easily holds the first place. 
 His roving life has not been the best possible aid to his reputation. Had 
 he remained in one of the great cities of the English-speaking playgoing world, 
 he would have held even a far higher place in public estimation than that which 
 he occupies at present. The theatrical public is the most conservative under the sun. 
 It likes to have its pet actors constantly in evidence. The longer a player stavs on 
 the same ground, the longer he may do so. His ability becomes an accepted fact, his 
 good points are placed to his account, his bad ones are forgotten. He becomes, in- 
 deed, something nearer akin than the actor. He becomes a familiar. We may not 
 know him personally, but we regard him as a friend. He establishes himself in the 
 hearts of the people, and there he may remain so long as he chooses. It is fourteen 
 years since the late Marie Litton drew all London to the Imperial Theatre — an out 
 of the way house, attached to the notorious Westminster Aquarium — to witness one 
 of the most exquisite Shakespearean revivals of modern times. The transient nature 
 of the actor's art could not be better exemplified than by a reference to that pro- 
 duction of "As You Like It." It was a poetical revival, it had, in its scenery no less 
 than its acting, the poetical atmosphere. The Rosalind of Miss Litton was a beautiful 
 performance, and the Orlando of Kyrle Bellew stepped from the very forests of Arden. 
 .A little while, however, and all is forgotten. The popular player is of the day and the 
 hour, not of the past. But there are many students of the stage and lovers of good 
 acting who have pleasant recollections of a certain Orlando and a certain Romeo 
 who has not since been equalled either in the romantic appearance so necessary for 
 those parts, or in the right reading of them, or in the superb acting of them. The 
 world at large has benefited by Mr. Bellew's restless nature, but it would have been 
 better for his own reputation had he remained, for instance, in London. He possesses, 
 more liberally than any other actor of to-day, the qualifications for an impersonator of 
 the romantic drama. His clear-cut, mobile face, his expressive eye, his lithe, supple 
 figure, and, above all, his melodious and penetrating voice, fit him in no ordinary degree 
 for his chosen calling. He has had a wide experience of the stage, and, what is better, a 
 wide experience of life. He has travelled all over the civilized world, noting men and 
 manners, with a result that he has a natural ease in whatever part he may be called upon 
 to play. Ti.i recount the various characters in which he has won fame, would be too long 
 a task. But, of my own recollection, I can speak of others than his Orlando and his 
 Romeo. His Charles Surface, his Jack .Absolute, and his Young Marlow deserve to be 
 handed down to posterity in the history of " The School for Scandal," '■ The Rivals," and 
 "She Stoops to Conquer." His David Garrick is remarkable for its polish and its light 
 touch. The refined cruelty of his Baron Scarpia in "La Tosca " has not been excelled by 
 any other player, French or English. His Claude Melnotte and his Armand Duval are 
 also to be counted among his finest performances. I have not witnessed his Antony or 
 his Hamlet. But I know that he must have distinguished himself in both characters. Al- 
 though he can play a modern part very admirably, he is at his best in costume, not on 
 account of the dress, but because he is steeped in romance and his style belongs to other 
 days. Let it not be inferred that he is stilted. (.)n the contrary, he is eminently natural, 
 but he has not the modern air inseparable from some players. He is essentially a romantic 
 actor, and the drama of to-day has little to do with romance. The mere wearing of a 
 wig, the addition of powder and patches, or the hanging of a sword, or the fashion of a 
 cloak, do not constitute an actor of romantic characters. The player of these parts must 
 possess, as Mr. Bellew possesses, the atmosphere and the feeling incidental to them.
 
 -5> 
 
 l^ 
 
 
 ' I'll 
 
 
 Vi3^ 
 
 CORA URQUHART POTTER. 
 
 " /r ASPIRANTS for histrionic fame may find 
 i|[ much encouragement in the public ca- 
 
 V reer of Mrs. Potter. They may also take 
 
 ,' from it a lesson which will depress them if 
 
 they are not possessed of vast determination. 
 For Mrs. Potter's path has not been strewn 
 with roses. The success which she has met with 
 has been great, and, in view of the obstacles which 
 she has encountered, very remarkable. I well re- 
 member her first appearance on the stage, at the 
 London Haymarket, seven years ago. As Anne -Syl- 
 vester in W'ilkie CoUins's drama, "Man and Wife," she 
 was greeted, if not with a chorus of praise, at least by the 
 discriminating approbation of a few. It was a good per- 
 formance, instinct with true feeling and marked by the air 
 of refinement which distinguishes all Mrs. Potter's work. 
 When, later on in the same season, she appeared at the 
 Gaiety Theatre in "Civil War" and " Loyal Love," she 
 was recognized by the London critics as an actress of un- 
 common ability. Her first appearance in New York, made 
 at the Fifth Avenue Theatre in October, 1887, in "Mile, 
 de Hremier, " was followed by "Loyal Love." Within the 
 ne.xt two years, she added Juliet, Pauline, Elizabeth in 
 Tuixt Axe and Crown," Kate Hardcastle, Cleopatra, and 
 _ Camille to her repertoire. She did not receive that recognition 
 here to which she was entitled by her merits as an actress. So, in 
 company with Mr. Kyrle Bellew, who had been her leading man 
 ever since her appearance at the London Gaiety, she sailed for 
 Australia under engagement to the chief management there. She 
 opened in Melbourne on March i, 1S90, as Camille. Her Austra- 
 lian experience was a bitter one. She met with hostile, and, I am 
 bound to say, unjust criticism at the hands of tlie local press, with 
 the result that her first season in Melbourne was a failure and her ar- 
 tistic nature received a severe rebuff. In Sydney, however, she had a 
 very different reception. Her methods were explained, her merits were 
 recognized. The theatre was crowded throughout the seven weeks of 
 her engagement, and she won the hearty approbation of one of the most 
 critical audiences in the world. Her first part in Sydney was Floria 
 Tosca, a character which she played with infinite grace, delicacy, and 
 no little power. Her Camille. a beautiful and exceedingly pathetic im- 
 personation, was, however, the great favorite with the Sydney audience. 
 That, and " La Tosca," drew, as they deserved to do. the largest houses. 
 But there was praise, and high praise, too, for her Frou-Frou, for her 
 Kate Hardcastle, and for her \'iolet in "David Garrick." During a 
 subsequent visit, she acted Juliet, Mile, de Bremier, and Hero in "Hero 
 and Leander. " But none of her subsequent performances eclipsed her 
 Camille or her Floria Tosca. The playgoers of Sydney have a warm regard for this 
 actress. They hold her in high estimation. Their appreciation atoned in some measure 
 for the cruel treatment which she received in Melbourne, even if it did not obliterate it.
 
 
 -^'. 
 
 V
 
 f\ 
 
 
 
 ^.^ - ^^ 
 
 EUGENE COWLES. 
 
 ' ^^^^^"B^ ■^F^ I TTHERE is no more popular member of the famous Bo.s- 
 
 tonians than its talented young basso, Mr. Eugene 
 Cowles, whose spirited singing and virile appearance make 
 him a chief attraction to that company. Mr. Cowles conies 
 from Stanstead, Quebec, one of the coldest corners of 
 Canada, where his father has practiced his profession as 
 a doctor for close upon half a century. His family was 
 musical and contained a number of good singers, in ad- 
 dition to which nearly every member was an instrumen- 
 talist, young Cowles himself being an expert upon various 
 kinds of musical instruments. When in his early teens, the subject of 
 this sketch went to Chicago, where he soon found employment in the First 
 National Bank. There he remained for several \ears, occupying a number of differ- 
 ent positions, each one better than the other. During this period of his life he gave 
 his leisure hours to the study of vocal music. He jomed various church choirs, making 
 much success therein, until, meeting with Messrs. McDonald and Barnabee at a gathering 
 of the local Press Club, he received an offer from the Bostonians which induced him to abandon 
 his business pursuits and take to the stage, where he has since become such a valuable member. 
 He made an unexpected appearance with the Bostonians at the end of November, iS88 — unex- 
 pected, for the reason that it was in a part which he had not thought within his range. The 
 then leading basso of the company was suddenly taken ill and the character of Squire Bantam, in 
 •' Dorothy," devolved upon Mr. Cowles at a moment's notice. He was much too large for the cos- 
 tume of the other basso, and the Bostonians often tell with merriment of the fantastic figure which 
 he cut on that occasion. At the conclusion of this performance, it was a matter of doubt among the meiTibers 
 of the company whether Mr. Cowles was a lion basso or a lion comique. During the season of 1888-S9, he sang several dif- 
 ferent roles, among them General Kantchukoff in " Fatinitza," the Count in " The Poachers," Beppo in •' Fra Diavolo," Lotario 
 in "Mignon," and Count Arnheim in "The Bohemian Girl." Mr. Cowles expresses a decided preference for the last two 
 operas named, although he has won more applause for the rendition of the armorer's song in "Robin Hood," which was 
 written expressly for him by Mr. Reginald de Koven after a careful study of the quality and capabilities of his voice. But he 
 has sung the armorer's song very much more frequently and in rather more critical localities where it would naturally call for 
 extended comment. Mr. Cowles has a difficult task in following Mr. Myron Whitney in the Bostonians, but he has come out of 
 the ordeal with flying colors'. He is a favorite in all the big cities of the United States. In Chicago, especially, his appearance 
 is often the subject for a demonstration. He made many friends there, and it is by no means unusual when he visits that 
 city for his old fellow clerks of the First National Bank to secure a large section of the theatre for the purpose of bestowing a 
 hearty welcome on their comrade of other days. Even in the far West, Mr. Cowles is well and favorably known, as the fol- 
 lowing extract from a leading San Francisco paper testifies. " Mr. Eugene Cowles, as Will Scarlett in ' Robin Hood," is an 
 agent for good. His perfectly graceful and sinewy figure, his general virile air, should make an impression on the young 
 men of the period as to what is possible if natural conditions of life are observed. His splendid voice — resonant, deep, and 
 penetrating — breathes manhood in its every tone. If sung by him in war time, no man with any pith and vigor would fail to 
 enlist after hearing his rendering of the armorer's song or the old ' Cross Bow.' They both suggest muscle and music." 
 
 "huzza for the anvil, the forge, and the sledge ! 
 Huzza for the sparks that fly ! 
 If I had a cup I would straightway pledge 
 The armorer — that is I." 
 
 These lines, from the armorer's song, are typical, not only of Will Scarlett, but of the manliness of the singer of them. 
 Mr. Cowles, who is still young, has a bright future in store. 
 
 -28-
 
 ~> 
 
 
 THERESA VAUGHN. 
 
 THE burlesque called " 1492," 
 and Miss Theresa \'aughn, 
 owe an obligation to one another. 
 The long run of the piece in New 
 York has enabled a delightful and 
 thorough artist to win for herself many thou- 
 sands of new admirers. And it is a matter of 
 fact, not of opinion only, that the presence of Miss 
 \'aughn has had much to do with the success of 
 the extravaganza, which, thanks largely to her ef- 
 forts, has enjoyed, and is still enjoying, a run out 
 of proportion to its intrinsic merits. The uncer- 
 tainty of theatrical affairs could not be better exem- 
 plified than by this instance. The hit of " 1492 " is made 
 in the second act by the German songs rendered by Miss 
 \'aughn in character as Friiulein, (he Waif. In the original 
 version, however, there was no such part, and Miss \'aughn 
 was confined to the first and third acts. Thanks to her own 
 idea and suggestion, she obtained a place in the second act. 
 The royal robes of the Infanta Joanna were discarded for a 
 tattered skirt and a broken hat. Miss \'aughn disguised her own 
 brunette beauty beneath a flaxen wig, and, banjo in hand, the 
 Waif was no sooner seen and heard, than she became first favor- 
 ite with the audience. The popularity of the impersonation was 
 instantly assured, the picturesque appearance of the actress, fol- 
 lowed by her sweet singing, winning her a place in the hearts of 
 the audience which Miss Vaughn securely holds. People come to 
 the theatre oyer and over again to hear her in the second act alone. 
 They are never tired of the repetition. The part originally allotted to Miss 
 Vaughn is so small that strangers, who are not apt to pay any particular 
 attention to the first act, rub their eyes in surprise when the Waif appears, 
 and wonder who the impersonator of the pretty and forlorn German girl 
 can be. All her little songs in this scene are charming, but the best of all 
 is " Annie Rooney." It speaks wonderfully for the gifts of this artist that 
 she can put new life into so old and hackneyed a number and make it the 
 more enjoyable the more frequently it is heard. Familiarity, in the case of 
 the German ".Annie Rooney, " means increased favor. The great popu- 
 larity of Miss \'aughn is largely due to an attractive personality. It is not 
 only that her face possesses character as well as mere prettiness, or that she 
 is versed in stage experience, or that she is eminently graceful in her move- 
 ments, or that her voice is clear, and deep, and sympathetic. In addition 
 to all these qualities, she has the added charm of womanliness, and of nat- 
 uralness. She is distinctly feminine, but not doll-like, and artificiality is not pos- 
 sible with her. That she has versatility, is shown by her singing of "Love, 
 .Sweet Love," in the third act, which is in direct contrast to the "character" sketch, 
 and songs, of the Waif. It seems strange to me that an artist who could success- 
 fully act and sing Tessa, in "The Gondoliers," should not have been provided 
 witii a part containing even greater opportunities for distinction than that in which 
 Miss \'aughn has so long pleased the playgoers of Boston and New York. Her 
 popularity, nevertheless, could hardly be greater than it is at present. She pos- 
 sesses the same charm which made the late J. K. Emmet so vast a favorite, in 
 England as well as in America, in his best days. Her voice, like that of the first Fritz, 
 touches the heart. And she has a delicacy, a refinement of manner, which is by no means 
 common on the comic opera stage. She was but a child when, ten years ago, she went on the 
 stage. She has youth in her favor, and a brilliant career before her. At present, she stands 
 alone amid surroundings which would depress anyone but a true artist.
 
 JOSEPH 
 
 "ERSON. 
 
 THE reason why Joseph Jefferson is so renowned and 
 so universally beloved, has been succintly set forth 
 by William Winter in his delightful "Shadows of the Stage, " volumes which 
 should be in every theatrical library. The cause of this effect explains at 
 once his acting and the honor to which it is entitled. That cause is stated by 
 the eminent critic in a single sentence: "Jefferson is at once a poetic and a 
 human actor, and he is thus able to charm ail minds and win all hearts." Jef- 
 ferson is an actor who does not confine himself to custom or conventionality. 
 He has met with abundant success as an actor, chiefly, in the minds of the peo- 
 ple, at any rate, as Rip Van Winkle, and, also, as Caleb Plummer, as Bob 
 Acres, as Dr. Pangioss, as Dr. Ollapod, as Mr. Golightly, and as Hugh de 
 Brass. A. great fund of humor and a high intellectual personality, together 
 ivith a vast deal of pathos, have helped to place him on the pinnacle of 
 fame. "When you are looking at Jefferson as Acres in the duel scene 
 in 'The Rivals'," says his biographer, "you laugh at him, but almost 
 you laugh through your tears. When you see Jefferson as Rip Van Winkle 
 confronting the ghosts on the mountain top at midnight, you see a dis- 
 play of imaginative personality quite as high as that of Hamlet, in tremulous 
 sensibility to supernatural influence, although wholly apart from Hamlet in alti- 
 tude of intellect and in anguish of experience. The poetry of the impersona- 
 tion, though, is entirely consonant with Hamlet, and that is the secret of Jeffer- 
 son's exceptional hold upon the heart and the imagination of his time. The 
 public taste does not ask Jefferson to trifle with his art. Its deep, spontaneous, 
 natural preference feels that he is a true actor, and so yields to his power, and 
 enjoys his charm, and is all the time improved and made titter to enjoy it. He 
 has reached as great a height as it is possible to reach in his profession. 
 He could, if he chose, play greater parts than he has ever attempted ; he could 
 not give a better exemplification than he gives, in his chosen and customary 
 achievement, of all that is distinctive, beautiful, and beneficent in the art of the 
 actor." Jefferson is represented here in three of his best known characters — 
 Rip Van Winkle, Bob Acres, and Dr. Pangioss. The latter part is intimately 
 associated with some of the foremost names of the stage. In America, 
 William Warren, John E. Owens, and John Brougham will never be for- 
 gotten in the jiart. And that droll comedian, John .S. Clarke, has de- 
 lighted thousands of playgoers, in England as well as in his own country, 
 by his impersonation. Jefferson first played Dr. Pangioss in New York 
 so long ago as 1S57, and it still remains one of the great attractions of 
 his repertoire. " The predominant beauty of Jefferson's Dr. Pangioss " — 
 ;■ I quote again from the critic of the A'e^i' Yor/c 'Tribuitc — "was spon- 
 
 taneous and perfectly graceful identification with the part. The felicity of 
 the apt quotations seemed to be accidental. The manner was buoyant, 
 but the alacrity of the mind was more nimble than the celerity of the body, and 
 those wise and witty comments that Pangioss makes upon life, character, and 
 manners, flowed naturally from a brain that was in the vigor and repose of in- 
 tense animation. The actor was completely merged in the character which, 
 nevertheless, his judgment dominated and his will directed. . . . No other 
 actor of the part has ever equalled him in softness and winning charm of 
 humor. His embodiment of Dr. Pangioss has left in the memory of his time an 
 image of eccentric character not less lovable than ludicrous." There is no 
 brighter ornament to the English-speaking stage than Joseph Jefferson. During 
 his long career he has given profound pleasure to the playgoers of America and 
 England, and, in the old days, to those of far-off Australia. And, always, he 
 has pleased by his truth to nature, by his simplicity of style, by his gentle humor, 
 by his real pathos. 
 
 — 32 —
 
 \^ISS RL'SSELL enjoys a popularity 
 on the light opera stage which is 
 unique. She has acquired her position 
 mainly by a beautiful voice and a blonde 
 beauty which appeals to many people. 
 She has also obtained notoriety in other 
 ways — she has often got advertisement 
 out of her domestic affairs. Such means 
 of obtaining publicity are always to be 
 deplored, but particularly, as in Miss 
 Russell's case, when they are not need- 
 ed. The voice of a singer, together 
 with the charm of her presence and her 
 acting, should be the attraction. .>\nd, 
 in reality, it is the artistic qualities 
 which draw the public, not private con- 
 cerns. Had Miss Russell been less 
 gifted, all the misconceived advertisement in the 
 world would not have secured her the prominent posi- 
 tion which she holds on the comic opera stage 
 of to-day. There was a time when notoriety, 
 secured at any cost, drew attention to a per- 
 former. Happily, that day is over. Let a 
 player possess talent, and that talent will, 
 sooner or later, be recognized by the public. For the rest, 
 I maintain that Miss Russell owes her celebrity and the se- 
 curity of her position chiefly to her voice, which is one of the 
 most beautiful that has ever graced the comic opera stage. 
 For vears, she has delighted the plavgoers of America by her 
 charming singing, and it is safe to predict that she will long'enjoy public favor. That she did not recently repeat her old 
 triumphs at the Casino was not due to any failure of her power as a singer or her personal attractiveness. The piece in which 
 she appeared during her last season in New York was not by any means brilliant. On the contrary, it was dull, tedious, and 
 commonplace to a degree. Oddly enough, also, the principal part was by no means a good one. Miss Russell had no 
 opportunity for distinction as the Princess Nicotine. But her marvellous voice repaid the spectator, in great measure, for the 
 uninteresting character which she portrayed. Miss Russell, as a singer, is a distinct ornament to the comic opera stage. 
 
 -34-
 
 WILLIAM 
 
 MacDONALD 
 
 THE popular baritone of the Bostonians is a Westerner, a native 
 of Steubenville, Ohio, where his voice, even when he was a 
 child, attracted great attention. General interest in him was in- 
 creased by his tine phj'sique which gave foinidation for the belief 
 that his voice would become a remarkable*one in manhood, and not 
 dwindle away to a silver thread as physical growth and develop- 
 ment made drafts upon his fund of strength — a promise, which, it 
 need hardly be said, has been fully realized. Mr. MacDonald had 
 the good fortune to belong to a family all the members of which 
 were musicians, and, when he was old enough for his voice to be- 
 come thoroughly settled, he was sent abroad to study. He spent 
 five years of hard work in England, Germany, and Italy, studying 
 with the leading masters of each country, and making the most 
 satisfactory progress. He made his debut in Italy, in "II Trova- 
 tore. " He was successful from the commencement of his career, 
 winning golden opinions in "11 Barbiere di Siviglia. " •' Ruy Bias.'" 
 and " Forza del Destino." . Mr. MacDonald returned to America in 
 1880. and joined the Emma Abbott company, singing the baritone roles in all the operas of a large and varied repertoire. 
 The flexibility of his voice, combined with his talent and versatility as an actor, have enabled him to appear in such widely 
 contrasted characters as the Count in " La Nozze di Figaro," Captain de Merrimac in " Olivette," Peter in " Czar and Zimmer- 
 man," Pippo in " La Mascotte," Count di Luna in •• II Trovatore," War Cloud in " The Olgallalas, " and Escamillo in " Car- 
 men." In all, he has sung in over fifty operas, covering just as divergent fields as those mentioned. Mr. MacDonald was 
 one of the Boston Ideals when, in 1887, he, in conjunction with Messrs. Karl and Barnabee, launched "The Bostonians," 
 who have made such a marked success, thus proving that artists may also be good men of business. Mr. MacDonald has 
 become a great favorite as Little John in " Robin Hood," a part that seems made for him, as he is of the same great stature 
 and fine physique as his prototype who, as our young brother will tell us. was called Little John because he was so big. One 
 sees again the old time outlaw, a lover of the greenwood and of a free life, brave, adventurous, jocular, open-handed ; a pro- 
 tector of women. And he makes us endorse the dictum of the chronicler who tells us that " Lytel John and Robyne Hude. 
 waythman ware commended gude." Mr. .MacDonald's voice is a rich, clear baritone, cultivated to the highest possible degree, 
 and his acting is in keeping with his singing. It is delightful to witness a singer who, even in light opera, keeps within the 
 picture and does not force himself on the audience. 
 
 -36-
 
 
 ADA REHAN. 
 
 'THE name of Ada Rehan is honored on both sides of the Atlantic. The 
 playgoers of England and America are united as to the merit of this 
 brilliant actress who has, indeed, met with more praise in London than 
 that showered upon her here. Miss Rehan's success in the British capital 
 .: , IS a proof, if proof be needed, that the alleged prejudice there against Ameri- 
 
 can players does not exist. She has received the enthusiastic praise of the two 
 "schools" of critics there, new and old alike, who, for once, join hands as to 
 the exceptional ability of this clever actress. .Miss Rehan, who has played over a 
 hundred and fifty parts in the course of her career, has a fund of buoyant raillery 
 which covers a great depth of feeling which especially tits her for the province of 
 the comedienne. And it is in comedy that she has made her chief hits. As the 
 leroines of old comedv, as the representative of Vanbrugh, Wycherley, Cibber, and 
 Farquhar, she is without a rival. The high comedy of her acting as Miss Hoyden, 
 ''cs.?y Thrift, Hippolyta, Sylvia, and Oriana. has not been equalled since, in 1S74, she 
 commenced to assume characters of this kind. .Another performance of rare merit was 
 rilburnia in "The Critic," a part in which she displayed the true instinct and faculty 
 of burlesque. Her acting, on the other hand, of Mademoiselle Rose in "The Prayer" 
 was remarkable for its passion, pathos, and a power that was almost tragic. The win- 
 ning sweetness of her Helena was contrasted by the vehemence of her Katharine. The 
 atter is one of the most brilliant of her impersonations in the Shakespearean field. But 
 ler Rosalind and her \'iola have elicited unstinted praise. As Rosalind, " she was 
 the image of youth, beautv, happiness, merriment, and of an absorbing and triumphant 
 iove. When she dashed through the trees of Arden, snatching the verses of Or- 
 la ido from their boughs, and cast herself at the foot of a great elm, to read those 
 i Kind messages that Rosalind's heart instantly and instinctively ascribes to their 
 right source, her gray eyes were brilliant with tender joy; her cheeks were flushed; 
 her whole person, in its graceful abandonment of posture, seemed to express an ecstasy 
 of happv vitality and of victorious delight; her hands that held the written scrolls 
 trembled with eager, tumultuous, and grateful joy ; the voice with which she read 
 ••- her lover's words made soft cadences of them and .seemed to caress every syllable; 
 and as the last rhyme, 
 
 ' Let no face be kept in mind. 
 But the fair of Rosalind,' 
 fell from her lips, like a drop of liquid silver, the exquisite music of her speech seemed 
 to die away in one soft sigh of pleasure. While, however, she thus denoted the 
 ., p.issionate heart of Rosalind and her ample bliss of sensation and exultant yet ten- 
 der pride of conquest, she never once relaxed the tension of her glee. In an ordi- 
 nary representation of 'As You Like It,' the interest commonly declines after the third 
 act, if not earlier, from lack of exuberant physical vitality "and the propulsive 
 force of sympathetic mirth in Rosalind. When Ada Rehan played the part, 
 the performance only grew richer and merrier as it proceeded — developing the 
 exuberant nature and glad experience of a loving and enchanting woman who sees 
 the whole world suffused with golden light, irradiated from her own happy heart, 
 her healthful and brilliant mind, her buoyant spirit, and inexhaustible goodness and 
 Another Shakespearean character in which Miss Kehan was delightful is that of Mrs. 
 I''ord in "The Merry Wives of Windsor." In the comedy of to-day. she acted with a charm 
 which will recall with delight such characters as Doris in "An International Match," Nisbe in 
 "A Night Off," A'alentine in "The Railroad of Love," Jenny O'Jones in "Red Letter Nights," 
 and others of that type. Miss Rehan, according to the foremost of American dramatic critics, possesses, "like her great 
 and renowned sister in dramatic art, Ellen Terry — the most distinctly poetic actress of this century, in any language, or in any 
 land — the power to personify and give the touch of reality. The yoimg women of to-day see themselves in Ada Rehan's 
 jJortrayals of them. The young men of to-day recognize in those portrayals the fulfillment of that ideal of sensuous senti- 
 ment, piquant freedom, and impetuous ardor, combined with rich beauty of person and negligent elegance of manner, which 
 they account the perfection of womanhood." As an actress of comedy. Miss Rehan occupies a position in the front rank 
 which is absolutely unassailable. 
 
 — :,s—
 
 I 
 
 I: 
 
 MANSFIELD. 
 
 [ IKE manv other actors belonging to this 
 country, Mr. Mansfield, who was born in 
 is an Englishman by birth. But much of his life 
 has been passed here, and, for the last eleven years, 
 he has been before the playgoing public of the United 
 States. He may. therefore, be fairly accounted, as he 
 claims to be, an American actor. His career has been 
 eventful, interesting, and instructive. In his youth, 
 he studied for the Indian Civil Service, but, after 
 pa.ssing the preliminary e.xaminations, he gave up the 
 idea, in order to remain with his aged mother, and 
 entered into business in Boston. That, also, he 
 abandoned, and set up as a painter in the same city. 
 He remained at that pursuit for a year in Boston, and 
 then Went to London for the purpose of pursumg his studies as an 
 artist. His success in that direction did not warrant him in continuing 
 as a painter, so he sought employment as an actor. Here, again, fortune 
 did not smile upon him. But he was highly popular in social circles, and, by dint 
 f uritmg for various publications and with entertainments which he gave occasional- 
 ly, he managed to exist. At last, in 1S77, he had an opportunity of appearing, at 
 .St. Cieorge's Hall, in the German-Reed entertainment, in the temporary absence 
 of Mr. Corney Grain. His experience on this occasion was a painful one. as, 
 owing to the hardships he had endured, he was in so weak a condition as to be 
 unable to undergo the nervous strain of appearing for the first time before a regular 
 audience, and instead of the entertainment which the audience expected, they heard but 
 a few discordant notes and saw a pale and petrified figure led in silence from the stage. 
 After another year of fighting for life in London, Mr. Mansfield secured an engagement to 
 tour in the provinces with the Gilbert-.Sullivan operas. He remained in this capacity for 
 three years, gaining much excellent experience. Returning to London, he found work, in 
 minor parts, on the light opera stage. His acting, and his careful make-up in the 
 small character of the innkeeper in "La Mascotte " led to the suggestion of a 
 friend that he should return to America. He accepted the advice, secured an 
 engagement at the Standard Theatre, New York, and since that time he has 
 been a theatrical celebrity. He made an immediate success as Dromez in " Les 
 Manteaux Noirs " — his opening part in .America — and, since that period, he has 
 had a very large following among the playgoing community. It is curious to ob- 
 serve that Mr. .Mansfield, who is justly regarded as a serious actor, has played in 
 everything, from burlesque to tragedy. The characters in which he has achieved 
 celebrity include Dromez, Nick X'edder in the comic opera of "Rip \'an \\'inkle," 
 the Lord Chancellor in " lolanthe, " the (jerman Baron in " La \'ie Parisienne," Nasoni 
 in " Gasparone," Baron Kraft in "In Spite of .All," Koko in "The Mikado," Baron 
 Chevrial in "A Parisian Romance," the French Tenor in "French Flats," Dr. Jekyll 
 and Mr. Hyde, Monsieur, Prince Karl, Don Juan, Nero, Richard the Third, and Arthur 
 Dimmesdale in "The Scarlet Letter." He has also appeared as Shylock. In regard to 
 Mr. Mansfield's impersonation of Richard the Third, "the part," it has been written, "was 
 acted by him; it was not declaimed. He made, indeed, a skilfull use of his uncommon 
 voice — keeping its tones light, sweet, and superficial during the earlier scenes, and then per- 
 mitting them to become deeper and more significant and thrilling as the man grows old in crime 
 and haggard and convuised in self-conflict and misery. " But he succeeded mainly by his revelation 
 of the soul of the character. 
 
 -40-
 
 
 ADELE RITCHIE. 
 
 • • pVERY now and then there bursts into the theatrical firmament some 
 new light so startling by reason of its unexpectedness as well as 
 because of its brilliancy that the critic can only rub his eyes in a daze of 
 admiration. A few weeks ago I happened into the Fifth Avenue Theatre on 
 an evening when it was announced that a new prima donna, freshly gradu- 
 ated from the chorus, would essay the role of Priscilla in the comic opera 
 of 'The Isle of Champagne.' A midsummer audience — perhaps the most 
 difficult and burnt-out of assemblages — had been laughed into a frivolous 
 mood by Mr. Seabrooke's bacchic eccentricities when there stepped into the 
 scene one of tiie most fetching figures that has graced the metropolitan stage in 
 this decade. A face of surpassing loveliness, joined to a rare grace of port, at once 
 -Id the spectators in amazed silence. Then followed a buzz of wonder and charm 
 that persisted until loud and clear above the concerted song there rang a soprano so 
 correct in its intonation, so fresh and sweet in quality, and so strangely sympathetic in 
 tiinhyt\ that the audience promptly resumed the quiet of intent attention. The promise 
 jf this tentative performance was more than fultilled by the debutante's subsequent 
 rendition of the solo of the ' dove song, ' and when the green baize fell on the 
 niyht's entertainment, Adele Ritchie had proved herself an artiste of the first 
 rank and a stage figure of extraordinary attractiveness. i\Ianagers promptly 
 began squabbling — it's a way managers have — for the right to her services, 
 ^ and 1 believe an incipient lawsuit was required to establish Mr. J. M. Hill's 
 claim to the new star's employment. That indomitable entrepreneur was then 
 looking about for ' taleiu ' peculiiily suitable for the fitting presentation of the opera of ' The Algerian,' 
 by Messrs. Ue Koven and MacDonough, and in .Miss R.itchie Mr. Hill thougiit to discover the very voice 
 and personality necessary to the role of Suzette in that work. The event has quite justified the manager's 
 quick prejudice in favor of the young woman's gifts and allurements. Whatever may be the defects of 
 Miss l^itchie's scenic training— or, more probably, the lack of it — it is certain that in merely natural 
 excellence of vocal equipment she has not had a superior in the memory of contemporary theatregoers. In bird-like sim- 
 plicity, in the quality of limpid ease, it reminds one much of the Russell's voice of ten years ago. The most unusual intervals 
 of composition, the nicest nuances of light and shade, appear to be as readily at her command as though she were a mistress 
 of the craft of .song as taught by a jNIaichesi or a Cappiani." The high praise thus bestowed on Miss Ritchie, by Mr. Charles 
 Fdc. Nirdlinger, in The Illusiraied American, last September, has been justified by subsequent events. Miss Ritchie has 
 rapidly risen to the rank of prima donna. For some months past she has been at the head of "The Algerian" company and 
 has been singing the role originated by INIiss Marie Tempest in such a manner as to win the praise of the critics and the 
 applause of the public in all the principal cities. 
 
 % 
 
 
 -42—
 
 HEXRY 
 
 MILLER. 
 
 MR. Charles Frohman is 
 to be congratulated on 
 his good fortune in having a 
 thoroughly admirable actor 
 for the leading man of his 
 handsome Empire Theatre. 
 Mr. Henry Miller has done 
 much good work and has 
 shown that he possesses more than ordinary abil- 
 ity for his profession. He has .several qualifications for the 
 .stage, chief of which are his earnestness and his quiet power. 
 ELsevvhere in this volume, 1 have dwelt upon the earnestness 
 necessary for the actor. To the old hand, it may seem 
 superfluous to dilate upon the very foundation of serious, 
 and, indeed, of all acting. But the stage of to-dav, judging 
 from many recent performances, is sadly lacking in earnest- 
 ness. Too many actors place themselves on pedestals. Thev 
 forget their parts in thinking of themselves. They play to 
 the audience. They smirk at their friends in front and think 
 it clever to force themselves on their audience. They forget 
 that the business of acting is to portray character. The actor 
 should not entirely lose his identity. He should retain his 
 individuality. Personality is essential to him. But he should 
 always remember that he is, for the time being, the repre- 
 sentative of the author, not of himself. It is refreshing, in 
 these days of self-consciousness and of self-advancement, to 
 see an actor so enveloped in his work as Mr. Miller. To 
 think of him is to think, not merely of a favorite actor, but 
 of certain well-defined, clear-cut characters. Call to mind 
 th.it delicate, pretty play, "Liberty Hall," as it was recently 
 acted in New York, and you instantly remember the quiet, 
 gentle character of ^Ir. Owen. This is a case where ear- 
 nestness is essential. The part demands unusual sincerity from the actor. To 
 play it lightly, or with self-consciousness, would be fatal. Mr. Miller entered into 
 the spirit of it, took it quietly, but firmly, impressively. His heart was in his work, 
 and his belief in the character made itself felt with the audience. He represented 
 the part, not himself. And he could not have done this had he not been in earnest, 
 had he not entered into the spirit of the part. Another valuable quality in lAtr. 
 Miller's acting made itself apparent in this performance. He possesses gentleness 
 and strength. Too many actors mistake the e ;hibition of physical force for the 
 display of power. There is invariably a fine manliness about Mr. Miller's acting. He 
 plays strongly, vigorously. He does not paint in little. But he never rushes to e.\- 
 ■ tremes, and he knows the value of gentleness in manhood. His Mr. Owen was a 
 perfect picture of a gentleman — of a man who understands how to be gentle and 
 re.spectful with women, dignified and firm with men. Another admirable performance is that given by .Mr." Miller in 
 "Sowing the Wind." The elderly, saddened .Mr. Brabazon is not what is considered in the line of business for a "juvenile " 
 leading man, but Mr. Miller plays it delightfully. He does not disdain to wear a white wig and line his face. He has the 
 humor for the lighter passages of the first act, and ihe pathos and the power for the later scenes. 
 
 \ 
 
 \ 
 
 -4+-
 
 -> 
 
 
 NELLIE MELBA. 
 
 M AUAME MELRA was born 
 in ^Melbourne, Australia, in 
 1865, of Scotch descent, her 
 parents being wealthy Presby- 
 terians. As a young girl, she 
 sang only in charity concerts. At the age 
 of eighteen, she was married to Captain 
 .Armstrong, and, shortly after that event, she 
 left the Antipodes for Paris, with the intention 
 of residing permanently in the French capital. 
 In Paris, she met the celebrated impresario. 
 --'' .Maurice Strakosch, who, struck by the beautiful 
 
 quality of her voice, prevailed on her to study 
 seriously with a view to a public career. She wisely 
 accepted this advice, and, in 1886. commenced her mu- 
 sical studies under Madame Marches!. Nine months 
 later, the young artist made her debut at the Theatre de la 
 Monnaie, Brussels, as Gilda in ■• Kigoletto. " She was im- 
 mediately hailed by the press and the public as the successor 
 of Patti and Nilsson. In the spring of 1888, Madame Melba 
 made her first appearance in London, at Covent Garden, and 
 ^^^^ imniediately secured a triumph. Since that time, her career 
 
 M^ ^^^^R y I has been one unbroken record of complete artistic and popular 
 ■'^^K^M I ' success. Her name alone is sufficient to draw a crowded house 
 
 _ .^BHBI^' in New York as well as in any of the European capitals. The 
 
 seal of her success was set by her appearance as Ophelia in 
 " Hamlet." at the Opera House. Paris, in 1889. Her reputation 
 as the Queen of Song was enhanced, in the following year, at the 
 Scala, Milan. Before leaving Europe for her recent engagement at 
 the New York Metropolitan Opera House, with Messrs. .Abbey, Schoeffel, 
 and Grau, Madame Melba made a tour of Holland and Scandinavia, under 
 the management of Mr. Carl Ferdinand Strakosch, with a result that had 
 never been equalled in those countries, either artistically or financially. As 
 a songstress, pure and simple, Madame Melba must be regarded as the 
 leading prima donna of the day. The only arti.st that once outshone her — 
 reference is. of course, made to Madame Patti — is now but a shadow of 
 her former self. and. among contemporary performers, the Australian 
 dn>a has no rival. .Madame Melba's voice is a high soprano, of great 
 range, and brilliant, rather than sympathetic ; of admirable timhyc. ab- 
 ■ ,- solutely true, and exceedingly flexible, a perfect instrument, in other words, 
 '' and one which Nature, helped by study, enables the possessor to use to 
 the best advantage. No more beautiful organ has been heard for years, and 
 Madame Melba uses it with a facility and surety that even the incomparable 
 Patti of the past did not excel. A voice and talent of this order naturally find 
 their best medium of revelation in what may be clumsily but clearly described 
 as lyric opera, namely, opera in which cantahile and highly embellished themes 
 are most abundant, and it is in works of this type that Madame Melba is hap- 
 piest. Thus it comes that in •' Lucia di Lammermoor " and " Rigoletto," for 
 example, the Australian prima donna is at her best, while her opportunities 
 are scarcely so great in more modern achievements in which song is made the 
 vehicle of e.xpression. rather than the sole end of the composer's art. To the 
 dilettante, sensitive to the loveliness and splendor of tone, to the connoisseur, 
 ve to the charm of vocal emission so unforced and correct that one of the artist's 
 associates has justly described it as an aiiissi'on insolentc, Madame Melba's performances 
 give the largest measure of delight and satisfaction. 
 
 -46-
 
 
 HILE Madame Bern- 
 hardt was conquer- 
 ing the new world, 
 there arose in Paris a the- 
 atrical star named Jane 
 Hadmg whose briijht 
 light for a time threat- 
 ened to dull the bril- 
 liancy of the divine 
 ,^-^^ Sarah. Bernhardt returned home only 
 
 ''%^*' to receive the cold shoulder from the 
 chauvinistic critics who could not forgive 
 her for having dared to desert the art 
 
 centre of the universe in order to gather dollars from rc.f hur/xires 
 
 Amhkaiiis. They said that in playing to such Philistines as we 
 
 were, her acting had become exaggerated ; some even suggested 
 
 that her light was waning and that she must make way for the 
 
 new planet. To add to Sarah's discomfiture she found her handsome 
 
 Greek husband was not only sharing with Madame Hading the ap- 
 
 .^-2, plause of the public in " Le Maitre de Forges," but that he had 
 
 — ^?^r actuallv become the devoted admirer of the new star. Sarah bided her 
 
 S.' A ■ time. Her Damala returned to her and before long the Paris critics were 
 
 '•^ damning Jane Hading and lauding Bernhardt to the skies again, 
 
 Jane Hading is a very beautiful woman ; the timbre of her voice is e.\- 
 quisite; the purity of her enunciation cannot be excelled ; a delightful radi- 
 ancy appears to pervade her presence ; there is a youthful dignity in her 
 every movement. Never brusque in her passionate moments, never savagely 
 ^ intense, she never surprises you nor awes you any more than a well-bred 
 '' woman of the world would were she to experience a tragic emotion in real 
 life. She is immensely clever; but she is not a great genius. 
 A Marseillaise by birth, her real name is Jeanne Hadingue. She was born in 
 r' » ,. j : ^HHr". '" ■ the dramatic profession. After making a hit in operetta in Cairo, she returned 
 
 iMBKa Stess ••'.-^j to her native town and there her youth and good looks made her a 
 
 ^^^^^H '^ ^ popular favorite. About fifteen years ago she made her Paris debut 
 
 B^^^H I "1^ (f^^ ^^ ''^^ Palais Royal in " La Chaste Suzanne," but she did not suit the 
 
 ^3^^^^^ ^- /V*^ 'S'^il^ critical Paris public. Her voice was small and she was too refined for 
 
 opera bouffe. The little singing voice she had entirely left her when 
 she was eighteen years old and she took to comedy. Then she married 
 \'ictor Koning, a well-known Parisian theatrical manager. He cast 
 her for the part of Claire in " Le Maitre de Forges," much to the dis- 
 gust of Georges Ohnet, the author. Koning's faith in his young wife's 
 Claire took Paris by storm. Every other Claire that we have ever seen has appeared fiaur- 
 .Madame Hading and Coquelin ni/n' joined forces and after visiting South America came to 
 this country. She returned to Paris and then for two years retired from the stage. The tragedy of lier life had begun. Damala 
 had gone back to his wife. Soon after it was found necessary to place him in a lunatic asylum and there he died. Madame Hading 
 made no attempt to conceal her grief. When she reappeared on the Parisian stage in January, 1891, in "La Contesse Romani " — 
 an old piece revived — she proved a bitter disappointment to her friends. She appeared to have become soured with life. Her 
 charming simplicity of manner had gone. The tones of her voice had become harsh and she had adopted the style of a tragedy 
 queen. But time heals all and when Madame Hading returned to us during the season of 1S93-94 she was once more her charming 
 self; again the great artist who could transfuse her perfect technique with deep feeling; still the beautiful woman, though somewhat 
 matured, who had fascinated us five years before. 
 
 talents proved to be well founded, 
 geoise by the side of Jane Hading's, 
 
 Her 
 
 —4—
 
 (I'r<ini a phiMoKraph l>) Thora, Sun rranciaci), C«l.)
 
 CANNOT make up my mind where to place Mr. E. S. Willard 
 in the Gallery ok Plavers — among the greatest or only on 
 the second line. I could not agree with a well-known dramatic 
 critic one night that Willard and Kyrle Bellew were about on a par, and yet I 
 vould hardly venture to rank him with Edwin Booth as he was ten years ago, 
 ith Jefferson, Barnay or Irving. He is, however, comparatively young, for he 
 was born in 1853, and therefore may become as great as they. But will he 
 ever reach the top of the ladder ? Oun'n sa/v f Meanwhile let us give him a 
 place by himself between the Dfos majort-s and the iniiwres. If we have seen 
 greater actors, I doubt whether we have seen a more original one. He is no 
 adventurer who has adopted the stage for mere money-making. His instincts 
 are too fine and artistic for that. He is not satisfied to play one character 
 especially adapted to him. but gives his audiences many, each one un- 
 like any other and all unlike E. S. Willard. When he first appeared 
 in this country at Palmer's Theatre, New York, on November 10. 1890, 
 his name was scarcely known to American theatre-goers, so modestly 
 had he made his arrival here. But the rumor had reached a few that 
 Mr. Willard had made a great impression in artistic London by his 
 performance of the part of Cyrus Blenkhorn m Henry Arthur Jones's 
 powerful play. "The Middleman," and the ne.xt morning Willard's 
 name was on everyone's lips. He had astonished his audience as much 
 as he had pleased them by his simple and sterling worth. He had in- 
 troduced to it an entirely new character played in an entirely new 
 manner, utterly free from the traditions of the old school ; as sincere as 
 it was simple. How conscientious was his work may be illustrated by the fact 
 that he lived for some weeks before he created the part among the potters of 
 Stoke-upon-Trent, and so truthfully did he play the part that the Pottt-ry Gazette 
 said of his performance that it appeared as if "some excitable and clever potter 
 had become an actor — not that an actor had, for this piece only, become a potter." 
 A month later Mr. Willard showed us by his performance of Judah Llewellyn 
 that he was no one-part actor, for no two characters could be much more dis- 
 similar as sketched by Mr. Jones, as filled in by Mr. Willard, than the honest 
 old English potter and the perjured young Welsh clergyman. Powerful "Judah" is. but 
 tliere is an unpleasant color about it. Mr. Willard, however, never for one moment lo.ses 
 the sympathy of his audience. Later he produced "John Needham's Double," and agam 
 made a profound impression by his trenchant portrayal of intellectual power slowly sapped 
 and disintegrated by the corrosive consciousness of hideous duplicity and wickedness. On 
 December 19, 1892, Mr. Willard produced J. M. Barrie's delightful "Professor's Love 
 Story " at the Star Theatre, New York. The piece is a mere literary sketch, and we know of no actor in this country who could 
 have made of Professor Goodwillie what Mr. Willard did. Indeed, I consider that he and not Mr. Barrie nor Mrs. Inchbald, from 
 whom Barrie took the idea of the piece, is responsible for that charming professor of electricity, who doesn't know when he is in love. 
 In the winter of 1893 Mr. Willard appeared for the first time on any stage as Hamlet. The performance did not add to his reputa- 
 tion as an actor. Indeed, I under.stand — for I did not see the performance — that as Hamlet he was a positive failure. 
 
 Mr. Willard was born in Brighton, England. He went on the stage much against the wish of his family, who had a horror of 
 actor folk. His first engagement was at the Theatre Royal, Weymouth, and there he had the good luck to make the acquaintance 
 of the late E. A. Sothern, who, as Mr. Willard will tell you, "was thenceforward the forwarder of my interests." Mr. Willard once 
 played the part of Judah Llewellyn before seven hundred parsons in London.
 
 'CCENTRIC and erratic 
 are the two words usu- 
 ly used to describe 
 tliat charming little beauty of the footlights. Miss Sadie Martinot ; but the world 
 she says does not know her true character. " I trip and dance and sing and wear 
 short skirts and sing f'rench songs." she once confided to an interviewer, "and 
 they think I am nothing more than a frivolous and thoughtless creature of the stage. 
 I want to be known as a woman and not as an actress. . . . F"rom the age of 
 eight to twelve, I was the inmate of a convent. The religious principles instilled in 
 me as a child have never left me during all my years on the stage. I never start to 
 make my entrance in the first scene of a new play without crossing myself and mur- 
 muring a prayer." This religious reverence, she added, had colored her whole life. 
 \, Such being the case, one cannot but wish that other actresses would hie themselves 
 , lo a nunnery. Miss .Martinot has tried her hand at almost everything on the 
 stage. She has played in burlesque, comic opera and opera comique; in farce 
 ■ as well as in pure comedy, and in each she has done extraordinarily well. How 
 much better she might have done had she selected her victicr and stuck to it, 
 w^e can only surmise. Long Island claims Miss Martinot as its daughter, but 
 she was quite a little child when her parents took her to New York city and 
 pitched their tent in the neighborhood of the Eagle (now the Standard) Theatre. 
 It was at that theatre she made her first appearance as the member of the chorus 
 in a burlesque called "Cupid." This was in 1876. For a season she joined a 
 travelling burlesque company, but it went to pieces at Philadelphia, and for a 
 short time she played in an obscure theatre in lioston. There she attracted so 
 much attention that she was asked to join the stock company of the Boston 
 Museum, which was no small compliment for so young and ine.xperienced an 
 actress. The charming way in which she and "jack" Mason played their love 
 scenes became the talk of the town, and for four seasons Miss Martinot was the 
 reigning stage favorite at the Hub. Dion Boucicault saw her play and advised 
 her to try her fortune in London. There she made a great hit as Lady Angela 
 in " Patience " at the Savoy Theatre. She returned to this country to play the 
 leading parts in Boucicault's plays and was the most fascinating of Moyas in 
 "The -Shaughraun." But tiring of the Irish drama she suddenly threw up her 
 engagement and in 1S84 kept Xew York in fits of laughter over her imitations 
 of Ellen Terry, .A.imee, etc., in a farce called "Distinguished Foreigners," which 
 was played at the Fifth Avenue Theatre. As Florence Nightingale Fletcher in 
 "Oueena." she made a still bigger hit at the LInion Square Theatre, and when 
 she played Sophie m " Dakolar " the women went into raptures over her e.xquisite 
 dresses. But greater than all these was the success she made at the Casino in 
 the title role of "Nanon," which had a prolonged run. At its close Miss Marti- 
 not took a trip to Europe in order to cultivate her voice, but was struck down by 
 fever at Florence and it took her some months to throw off its effects. ^Vhen 
 she did come back to this country to create the titie role in Chassaigne's "Nadjy" at the Casino, her admirers found her as bonnie 
 and charming as ever; but a quarrel with the stage manager caused her to sever her connection with the Aronsons. She then ap- 
 peared — this was in 1889— at Amberg's Theatre, and in the part of Bettina in "La Mascotte," which she sang in German, she 
 achieved another great success. On the opening of the Garden Theatre, New York, Miss Martinot appeared m "br. 15111 "; then in 
 1 89 1 appeared as the witty Marquise in Mr. C. F. Nirdlinger's "Pompadour." In 1893 she played Dora in "Diplomacy" with the 
 Coghlans. Since then she has sold her jewels and bric-a-brac and become Mrs. Max Figman.' Her first matrimonial' essay was 
 made in collaboration with Mr, Fred. Stinson when she was playing in Boston. It does not appear to have had more than a succes 
 dc curiosite.
 
 (Krnm n pluitojiraph by Siir<my, New Ynrk.i
 
 
 SEABROOKE. 
 
 (") one was more surprised than Thomas 
 Ouigley Seabrooke when he discovered that 
 nature had intended him for a low come- 
 dian. The discovery came about in this way. He 
 had been engai^ed l)y Mr. George Holland to play the 
 leading parts in his light comedies. After a time Mr. Hol- 
 ^ land decided to revive his old success, "Ten Nights in 
 — " a Barroom," and cast .Mr. Seabrooke for the comic role. 
 This did not at all please the young actor who, accus- 
 tomed as he liad lalely been to performing leading juvenile 
 parts, had aspirations of a higher order. He protested, but at 
 length the idea of his playing low comedy struck him as so ludicrous 
 that he consented to descend from his high horse. He played the part 
 and made a great hit. But before this hit came, Mr. Seabrooke had had to 
 hght many a hard struggle in order to gain recognition and his dramatic life 
 was as full of vicissitudes as that of almost every successful actor is. He was 
 born at Mount Vernon, Westchester County, N. Y., a httle over thirty-four years 
 ago. At the public schools there he learned the three R's and when he was only 
 eleven years old he became an ofhce boy in the East Chester National Bank, where it 
 w.is intended he should serve an apprenticeship of three years and then study for the law. 
 But if man proposes, God disposes. He did not go in for law, but remained in the bank 
 until he was twenty, when he found that too close confinement and overwork were beginning to tell 
 nil his health. Then he bethought himself of the stage as a means of gaining a livelihood. He had 
 saved a little money and he devoted it to assist a friend in putting on a company at a Newark (N. J.) 
 theatre, he being engaged to play Bertie Cecil in "Cigarette." But the citizens of Newark failed 
 to respond and in a very short time the company was disbanded and young Seabrooke's savings had 
 vanished into thin air. However, he soon got another engagement with Helen Coleman to double 
 the parts of Tom Crane and Jeff McGuire in " The Widow' Bedott." Then he found himself playing 
 the detective in " Rooms to Rent"; acted for a short time in Halifax, N. S., and in the fall of 1882 
 ,. ^ was engaged by " Will " Carleton to create the part of John Mandamus in " Irish Aristocracy." It 
 
 ' ,.. f. was in this character that he made his first bow to a New York audience, at the Academy of Music, 
 
 '■', in November, 1882. The following season he was playing for a time in "One of the Finest" and then 
 
 lie joined Jeffrey Lewis's company as leading man and opened his engagement as Tom Coatridge in " The 
 Ruling Passion." He afterwards became a member of Woods' stock company at Forepaugh's in Phila- 
 delphia, or, as it was then called, the Bijou Theatre. At the Girard Avenue Theatre in the same city he 
 '«-*3' played, in " 97-79 " under Mr. Adolph Neuendorff's management; then with "Mrs. Partington " in Boston 
 
 and Providence and subsequently with Barney McAuley in "The Jersey Man." He left Mr. McAuley to join 
 Mr. Holland's forces and. as already stated, it was under this management that he discovered what his true 
 mclier was. After this his career on the stage was a comparatively comfortable one, but he had had many a 
 hard struggle before it became so. In the spring of 1885 he played the Earl of Esmond in " Favette, " with Miss 
 Estelle Clayton, at the Union Square Theatre, New York, and afterwards went on the road with "The Danites," "'49," "After 
 Dark" and "Her Atonement." In a farce-comedy called "Aphrodite" he made another decided hit and was then engaged by Mr. 
 Samuel Colville to play Moses Jewel in "The World," at the People's Theatre, New York. Later he created Oleo Mashering in 
 George Hoey's " Keep It Dark " and then appeared at the .Standard Theatre as Gentlemanly Jimmy in Gunther's play, "A Wall Street 
 Bandit." For a short period he appeared at Sinn's Park Theatre, Brooklyn, in "A Paper Doll." " The Little Tycoon " and "A Mid- 
 night Bell." In the summer of 1892 he produced "The Isle of Champagne," and his King Poniniery found immense favor with the 
 public. His next production, "Tabasco," was not such a success. 
 
 Mr. Seabrooke's performance of the part of King Pommery became the talk of the town and owing to it " The Isle of Champagne " 
 continued to draw crowded houses even during the early part of the dog days. But at length the heat became so intense that actors 
 and audience had to resign themselves to fate and the piece was withdrawn. When it was revived it was received with equal favor 
 and it raised Mr. Seabrooke not only to a high position in his profession, but also added considerably to his bank account. The rumor 
 that " Tabasco" was backed by the company intere.sted in making a sauce of that name did not add to the actor's dramatic reputa- 
 tion. .Mr. Seabrooke, whose original name was Quigley, recently adopted his present name by legal methods.
 
 HE was a remarkably pretty 
 it tie girl. During her 
 babyhood she had exhibited no 
 particular dramatic passion except 
 when she found the sugar basin beyond her reach. In her bread and butter 
 days she hati learned to spout harmless poems of the " Mary Had a Little 
 Lamb " order for the edirtcation of persons with a tendency to drift into 
 church sociables. Before she had reached her teens she had played 
 with the Gilbert Dramatic Society of Rochester, N. Y.. the part of 
 i, Maggie McFarlane in "Engaged." Later she had developed a long- 
 ing to become an actress. Her father and mother had said "No." 
 1 hen had come along a friend who obtained the parental permis- 
 sion to take her to New York so that she might have a few lessons 
 in the dramatic art. A rumor reached her that Miss Helen 
 Barry was in searcn of a leading lady. She — that is to say 
 ', Miss Amy Busby — had then reached the age of fifteen. In 
 
 ^r , spite of the fact that she wore short dresses and her hair 
 ' " hanging down her back, she aspired to occupy that vacant 
 position of leading lady. By means of some strategy and 
 just the tiniest bit of "fibbing," she succeeded. She put 
 up her hair, borrowed a long dress, a black velvet bon- 
 net, and offered her services to the English actress. 
 •^^-«-_ '•' When asked her age Miss Busby said it was nineteen. 
 
 ;•?;;* ■ Most girls like to be thought older than they are till they 
 
 reach twenty. Then, for a year or two, young women tell the truth 
 about their age. F"or a few more years those ages remain stationary. 
 After that they grow downwards like a cow's tail. Miss Busby's "fib" 
 therefore to a certain extent pardonable. And then it was such a little one. 
 II. she was engaged and duly attended rehearsals in nineteen-year-old "get- 
 When Miss Busby joined the company on its way to Albany, Miss Barry 
 as rather startled to see her new protegee in "shorts" and with her hair 
 down her back. The cat had to be let out of the bag; all that was left for 
 Miss Busby's kind-hearted employer was to laugh and grant plenary abso- 
 lution. Thus the subject of this sketch made her first public appearance 
 in the first long dress she had ever owned, at the capital of New York 
 State, as Grace Harkaway in "London .Assurance." Then she played 
 \iola in Henry Guy Carleton's "Victor Durand." and before she left 
 Miss Barry's company had quite a nice little repertoire. When Miss 
 Cora Edsell started out as a star in "The Pembertons " Miss Busby 
 acted the second woman's part. The star shone for a brief month 
 only, then its light faded out and Miss Busby was engaged by Stuart 
 Robson, with whom she remained for two years. During her first 
 season with him she played Lady Mary in "The Henrietta," Con- 
 stance Neville in " .She .Stoops to Conc|uer " aiul ISIaiiche in " Is Marriage a Failure ?" In the second season she took the place of 
 Mrs. Robson, who was ill, and played Kate Hardcastle and Mrs. Van Alstyne in "The Henrietta." Then came an engagement 
 with W. H. Crane, and under his management she took the parts of Margaret in Paul Potter's "The American Minister," Mary 
 Marlowe in "On Probation." Helen in " Brother John." the hysterical young woman in " For Money " and Mrs. .Vrmstrong in " The 
 Senator." Then she joined Richard .Mansfield's company and was the first in this country to play the part of Louka in that brilliant 
 but unappreciated satire on human nature, " .Vrnis and the Man." Miss Busby is now a member of .Mr. Charles Frohman's stock 
 company.
 
 -<«> 
 
 ^^. 
 
 4 
 
 &. 
 
 •c. 
 
 •If—.-. 
 
 / 
 
 SJPALKo 
 
 (Iri.in H ptwili., ("pyriKlu 1894 by 11 .1. lull*. Ni" '>"'^-'
 
 JAMES H. STODDARD. 
 
 HAD any young actor of the present day made the great hit that James H. Stoddard did as Moneypenny in " The Long Strike," 
 about a quarter of a century ago, he would doubtless have at once taken to starring. But autres jours autres macurs. For 
 more than twenty years, with the exception of two seasons, Mr. Stoddard has been contented to remain a member of Mr. .A. 
 M. Palmer's stock companies, which speaks volumes both for the actor and manager. Mr. Stoddard comes of theatrical stock. His 
 father acted for twenty-two years at the Theatre Royal, Glasgow, and he was born on October 26, 1826, while his parents were 
 playing an engagement in Yorkshire, England. He received his education in Glasgow, and his father having become manager of 
 the Theatre Royal, young Stoddard there made his first bow to the public in the part of a page. When he was seventeen years old 
 he got an engagement at Aberdeen and then drifted to Liverpool, where for five years he played principally old men's parts on a very 
 meagre salary. In those days we depended almost entirely on England for our actors and actresses, and the success that some of 
 them had met with in the United States caused Mr. Stoddard to pack up his trnnks and come to this country. He arrived in Neiv 
 York in 1853 armed with a letter to the elder Wallack, whose theatre stood at the corner of Broadway and Broome street. He had 
 hoped to strike an El Dorado at once but found he had to begin again at the bottom of the ladder. Mr. James Wallack gave him 
 only minor parts to play. In the company were Mrs. John Hoey (then Mrs. Russell) and Miss Conover, vi-ho was the "singing 
 lady" of the troupe. Many years later Miss Conover became Mr. Stoddard's wife. After spending four years under the Wallack 
 management Mr. Stoddard accepted an engagement from Laura Keene, who opened her new theatre on Broadway, between 
 Houston and Bleecker streets, with "As You Like It." In this play .Mr. Stoddard took the role of Adam, which tradition has it 
 was created by the "divine William" himself. During this engagement Joseph Jefferson made his first appearance in New York as 
 Dr. Pangloss in "The Heir at Law" and as Diggery in "The Spectre Bridegroom." In the first play Vlx. Stoddard appeared as 
 Steadfast and in the latter as Nicodemus. He remained with Laura Keene until she resigned the management of the theatre which 
 then became known as the Olympic. When the late Dion Boucicault appeared at the Wmter Garden, which stood on part of the 
 ground now occupied by the Grand Central Hotel, in "Dot," Mr. Stoddard supported him for the first part of the season and then 
 played with "Joe " Jefferson for the remainder at the same theatre. For the following five seasons he was at the Olympic under the 
 management of Mrs. John Wood, the original Pocahontas, who is still delighting London audiences in spite of her years. It was 
 during this engagement that Mr. Stoddard made his first great hit in " The Long Strike." Hitherto the public had appreciated him 
 as a good and useful member of a stock company. Now they realized what a consummate actor he was. He was induced in 1873 
 to join forces with a company formed to play "The Long Strike" on the road, but it was a year of financial disaster in this country. 
 The combination proved a failure and .Mr. Stoddard, having had enough of one-night stands, joined the stock company at the Union 
 Square Theatre, and with the exception of two seasons when Mr. Palmer was abroad, has remained with that manager ever since. 
 The Union Square company was in these days as strong a company as we have ever had in this country, and Mr. Stoddard fully 
 shared in its triumphs, one of his greatest successes being in the part of Jacob Rantzau. When "Alabama" was produced at the 
 Madison Square Theatre in iSgt he played with rare skill Colonel Preston, the old Southern planter with strong prejudices against 
 the North. He continues to be a valued member of .Mr. Palmer's company, but whenever he can escape from the footlights he 
 hurries to indulge in bucolic dissipation at Rahway, N. J., where he owns a charming farm. 
 
 -14—
 
 (I'roiii i> i)ii"l"Krii|.li I'v Mmims,.!,, Clii. ..III. Ml
 
 ■HEX Miss Elsie cJc 
 Wolfe became an 
 actress, it was a 
 rare thing in this country 
 for young women of social 
 standing to adopt the stage 
 as a profession. It there- 
 fore required a good deal of 
 moral pluck on her part to 
 do so. The niuninier was 
 
 still considered to resemble more or less the portrait given in the old Eng- 
 lish statute books: "Such as wake in the night and sleep in the day and 
 hunt customable taverns and ale-houses and routs about, and no man wot 
 from whence they come or whither they go; " and there was the very natural 
 jealousy of the profession itself to fight against. Be it said, however, that 
 the profession behaved most generously to the new aspirant for theatrical 
 laurels and that society crowded to see Miss Elsie de Wolfe and to applaud 
 her when she made her public debut as Fabienne in " Therm-dor." It was 
 an unfortunate beginnmg, and Miss de Wolfe would have done far more 
 wisely had she stuck to her original idea of commencing from the bottom of 
 the ladder and joining a stock company in order to do so. At the same 
 time. Miss de Wolfe's acting did not deserve the severe criticism it secured 
 from the New York press when " Thermidor " was first produced in that 
 city in October, 1891. The part she played would have overweighted many 
 an experienced actress, but Miss de Wolfe had taste and tact enough to save 
 herself from committing any dramatic offenses. When "Thermidor" was 
 withdrawn from the stage — its failure was principally caused by the lack of in- 
 terest in its story to an American public — Miss de Wolfe very wisely accepted 
 less difficult roles and is now a very capable member of Mr. Charles Froh- 
 nian's stock company. It was by accident that she discovered she had any 
 ability for the stage. She was asked to play for charity a supernumerary part in 
 "The White .Milliner" at the Criterion Theatre, in London, under the stage di- 
 rection of Charles Wyndham. In the cast were Weedon Grossmith, who was an 
 - amateur in those days, Lady Violet Greville, daughter of the "Red Duchess," and 
 
 '>X*»^ Charles Coliiaghi. This was in 1885, while the Soudan war was going on. Just be- 
 fore the performance one of the principal actresses heard of her husband's death in battle 
 and Miss de Wolfe took her place. Her success then led to her taking part in amateur the- 
 atricals in this country and she appeared as Helen in " The Hunchback," as Lady 'Feazle, 
 Lady Clara Seymour in "A Cup of Tea," in Mrs. Burton Harrison's " Mouse Trap," in "Drifted 
 Apart " and " Contrast. " For months before appearing as a professional she studied in I'aris with 
 Mademoiselle Bartet and in London with Hermann \'ezin, probably the best elocutionist on the Eng- 
 lish-speaking stage. The .season following the production of " Thermidor " she played the parts of Constance in a farcical comedy 
 called "Joseph," Mrs. Pendleton in Mrs. Doremus's "Four in Hand" and Mrs. S'huttleworth in "The Judge," by Arthur Law, 
 Her performances in these characters displayed lack of experience, but proved that the newcomer had dramatic ability which only re- 
 quired study and application to develop. Since then she has worked most industriously at her art. This season Miss de Wolfe 
 showed she had made quite a remarkable stride in her profession by her performance of Lady Kate Ffennel in " The Bauble Shop." 
 As Lady " Charley " W'ishanger, in Henry Arthur Jones's " Masqueraders," Miss de Wolfe has not a pleasant part to play, but she 
 indicates the few traits sketched bv the author with a remarkablv delicate touch. 
 
 -16-
 
 
 ^^ 
 
 ■J^W^^/y%\'" not object 
 
 ROBERT TABER. 
 
 ' HERE are few young actors on the American stage to-daj' who take their profession 
 so seriously as does Robert Taber. In everything he does you recognize the 
 result of careful study and the study of a man who is an artist by nature. Some- 
 times his work is so refined as to be "caviare to the general," but to persons who do 
 not object to try a little thinking in a theatre, it is delightful in its finish and exquisite in 
 delicacy. He is the only Romeo on our boards, and indeed, for the matter of 
 the only Romeo on the English-speaking stage. His Claude Melnotte we have 
 seen equalled, and of his Malvolio. which we have not been fortunate enough 
 to witness, we have heard unstinted praise from competent critics. We hope that 
 ere long Mr. Taber and his charming wife will give us a taste of their quality in a 
 new play, so that their many admirers may judge them in their own creations. It is 
 a melancholy fact that as some great cities, such as New York, grow older, the less 
 their inhabitants appreciate the classics; the more the classics become things one 
 talks about a great deal but never reads. The classical drama, unless indeed it be 
 staged by an Irving, meets with little favor in the metropolis: and so the Tabers pass 
 by New York, while in cultivated Boston they are ever welcome. 
 
 Mr. Taber comes of a New York family. His father was a cotton merchant. 
 Each of his three brothers has made his mark. One is professor of higher mathe- 
 matics at Clark University and writes profound treatises on that abstruse subject 
 which only a few can understand ; another, a successful railroad man, is a member of 
 a good government club which is working hard for the regeneration of New York ; 
 ' the third is a landscape painter of great merit who exhibits at the Society of Amer- 
 ican .\rtists ; while his only sister, the wife of Henry Holt, the publisher, has a 
 great talent for decorative design. As a child Mr. Taber showed great fondness for 
 the stage, and as a youth was continually taking part in amateur theatricals in the 
 basement of the deaf-mute Church of St. .Ann. With some difiiculty he succeeded 
 in obtaining the leave of his ]iarents to join Franklin Sargent's dramatic school, where 
 he worked diligently for a couple of terms. Richard Watson Gilder introduced the 
 young aspirant for dramatic laurels to Madame Modjeska, and when in the early part 
 of i8S6 she gave a performance of "As You Like It" for the benefit of the Polish 
 exiles, he played the part of Sylvius and pleased her so much that she engaged him 
 for her company. That season he made his professional debut as Amiens in the same 
 play. Next he appeared in "The Chouans " as an officer who was killed in the first 
 act; but in the following season Madame Modjeska allotted him better parts. His first 
 recognition from the public he secured in "Measure for Measure," when he was play- 
 ^'^" ''ig Claudio to Modjeska's Isabella. In the third act, when he pleaded with Isabella 
 iv • to save his life at the price of her virtue, "the pit rose at him." The speech beginning 
 
 " Ay, but to die, and go we know not; to lie in cold obstruction and to rot," was mag- 
 nificently rendered. There was such pathos in his appeal, "Sweet sister, let me live;" 
 such desperation in his cry, " Oh, hear me, Isabella," that the audience went wild with excitement. Robert Taber had proved him- 
 self an actor of remarkable ability. The following season he was engaged to support Miss Julia !Marlowe and played such parts as 
 Claude Melnotte, Romeo, Orlando, and the Duke in "Twelfth Night." During the season of 1890-91 he played Lucien de Noir- 
 ville with William Terriss in " Roger la Honte." An engagement with Mr. Augustm Daly followed, but for a whole season he did 
 not appear. He then rejoined Miss Marlowe's forces and in the spring of 1893 played for three months with the Coglilans. In 
 May, 1894, he was married to Miss Marlowe and has since then been her leading man. One important addition he has added to his 
 repertoire since his marriage, and that is Joseph Surface in " The School for Scandal." 
 
 
 (if) 
 
 -18-
 
 
 JENNIE GOLDTHWAITE. 
 
 T seems as though it were vain for the critic with a leaning towards high art to try and raise the standard of 
 
 the drama of to-day. He preaches to the playgoer that more benefit is to be derived from Shakespeare than 
 
 from Hoyt; that "Brass Monkeys," " Corncrackers " and "City Directories" are vulgar trash unworthy 
 
 of the patronage of a sane person, and that intellectual aliment and amusement should be gathered from the 
 
 works of the Ibsens, the Hauptmanns and the Maeterlincks. And he wastes his sweetness on the desert 
 
 A dramatic Ur. Parkhurst himself would fail to bring about reform. The majority wants rubbish 
 
 on the stage — something it can easily understand; something that needs no thinking, for its brain 
 
 has been wearied by the rush of the day, and at night that brain needs rest. .And, wanting this, 
 
 the majority will have it and pay for it. Elevating the stage has proved a poorly paying business 
 
 to those who have entered it, and more especially in New York. Actors and actresses who have 
 
 started with noble ambitions have over and over again had to give up the struggle or else starve. 
 
 We do not know that Miss Jennie Goldthv.aite ever fought for high art or has any ambition to 
 
 shine as an artist in the legitimate drama; but we do know that she has exhibited a remarkable 
 
 amount of talent in such parts; has the ability to become a first-class comedienne, and that she 
 
 has elected to play in comic opera and in a role altogether unworthy of her. It seems a pity 
 
 that so clever a young woman should waste her energies on such trivial matter, for actresses 
 
 of her years possessed of real dramatic talent are few and far between. However, 
 
 it is no use grumbling. Comic opera, or rather works which style themselves comic, 
 
 and farce-comedy are the rage, and the mummer must pander to the prevailing taste 
 
 if he wishes to live. 
 
 Miss Goldthwaite, who is now playing the part of Psyche Persimmons, the sleepy 
 girl in "Dr. Syntax," hails from the Hoosier State, and it was in Indianapolis that 
 she commenced her dramatic career when she was but eleven years of age. As the 
 heroine of " Cinderella," not only her good looks but also her dramatic instinct 
 attracted considerable attention, and she was engaged to play the same part in 
 Chicago. In 1887 she toured through the West with a company having a fairly 
 large repertoire and thereby gained a large amount of useful experience. The 
 following season she played the title role in "The Little Xugget." In the season of 
 1889-90 she made a very good impression both through her acting and singing — 
 Miss Goldthwaite has a rich and well-trained mezzo-soprano voice — as Little Dolly 
 in "The Little Tycoon." During her next engagement she created the part of 
 Helen French in Bill Nye's comedy, "The Cadi," and then acted Sue Endaly in 
 " Blue Jeans." During the season of 1893-94 there was produced at the Fourteenth 
 Street Theatre, New York, an extraordinary piece by Joseph Arthur, called " The 
 Corncracker. " Nothing quite like it had ever been seen before. It was a combina- 
 tion of horse-play, farce-comedy and melodrama. It dealt with missing wills, long- 
 parted parents and children, and showed an elevator scene which was realistic 
 enough but had nothing to do with the plot. In this remarkable farrago Miss 
 Goldthwaite appeared as Maria Mail and showed what a clever character actress she was. When she appeared in the following 
 season in "A Lady of Venice," the part of a passionate adventuress, small though her opportunity was, she distinguished herself 
 greatly by the truth of her acting. Indeed, she was the one bright spot in the performance of this ill-fated piece. She then went 
 back to comic opera in Philadelphia, and, as has already been stated, is now in DeWolf Hopper's comic opera company. 
 
 It it but fair to say that "Dr. Syntax" has been received, wherever played, with a great deal of enthusiasm, and Miss Gold- 
 thwaite, in the part of Psyche Persimmons, has been much praised by the critics. She plays it in a truly humorous spirit that is very 
 catching, and she evidently studied the part as seriously as she would have done a role in legitimate drama. That she should be so 
 successful in such a part, considering that her last role was a tragic one, speaks well for the versatility of her talent. At the same 
 time it also proves how entertaining she could be in higher comedy roles, and makes one regret all the more that she does not con- 
 line herself to them.
 
 c:^-4-{— 'j. 
 
 A "STIRRING DWARF" of 
 just twenty-two years of age 
 IS Adolf z'lnk, of the Lillipu- 
 tian Company, and many a point 
 can he give to the "sleeping giants' 
 of our comic stage. How much, for 
 instance, could they learn of him in 
 the art of pantomime and in the , 
 method of his play. When he is /' 
 on the stage you are seeing pure 
 comedy through the wrong end of 
 
 an opera glass. You may not 
 understand a word he is saying. The 
 face and action of this pygmy pantomimist 
 will tell you almost everything. His talent does not 
 appear to have been inherited. His parents were poor 
 weavers of Mahrisch Neustadt in Austria. They and 
 the rest of their children were of normal 
 height, but the dwarf of the family seems 
 
 to have absorbed most of its wit 
 and at school was generally to be 
 found at the head of his class. When 
 W' jj he was nearly si.Nteen he joined the Lilli- 
 puts and at once made a hit in a comedy 
 called "Ten Girls and No Man." Since then 
 he has, under the training of the Rosenfelds, 
 developed into a remarkable comedian. 
 In " Humpty Dumpty " he divides the 
 honors with Franz Ebert and is in- 
 deed considered by many to be the 
 superior of the leading comedian of 
 the Lilliputian Company. As 
 a singer of comic songs he is 
 inimitable and he speaks the 
 slang of the New York gutter 
 snipe as if to the manner born. 

 
 t.7 
 
 f 
 
 received. 
 
 /■ VI ■ 
 
 •HEX Mr. James 
 A. Heme first 
 commenced tn 
 preach the gospel o( real- 
 ism on the stage, he was hooted at and 
 scoffed by the critics. Mr. W. D. How- 
 ells, however, stood by him and his earnest- 
 ness gradually gained him many friends. 
 Somewhere about 1890 he copyrighted a 
 play called "Shore Acres" and soon after- 
 ward it appeared under the nairie of '• Shore 
 Acres Subdivision " in the West. Re- 
 christened as "Uncle Nat" it was later 
 played in Chicago, where it was favorably 
 
 Boston did not like it, but when it was produced in October. 1S93, at tlie Fifth Avenue 
 Theatre, New York, it set the critics a thinking, if it did not altogether please them, and the public 
 showed its cariosity, if not always its appreciation, by attending the production in crowds, first at 
 ihe Fifth Avenue and then at Daly's Theatre. Miss Katherine Grey, the subject of our sketch, 
 ,-V\- took a prominent part in this memorable production, playing the part of Helen Berr\', the daughter 
 
 Jil^^ of the coarse-grained owner of "Shore Acres." She is like Mr. Heme a believer in realism on the 
 \ stage. With him and with other zealous admirers of the apostle of such realism, she has studied 
 Ibsen's dramas, though we believe she has not yet appeared in any of them in public. It is 
 doubtful whether it will not be many a long day before the American theatre-going public is yet 
 ready for what the Ibsenites are fond of calling "verity" on the stage, and I imagine that the suc- 
 cess of " Shore Acres" was rather a success of curiosity than anything else. But there is a charm- 
 ing love story in it and that pleased the Philistines. It was Miss Katherine Grey who played the 
 woman's role in this love episode, and far more interesting was her performance than the realistic way in which a dinner was 
 cooked and afterward eaten. Nothing could have been better than the scene between herself and her tender, self-abnegating uncle, 
 Nathan'l Berry (played by Mr. Heme), when she was on the point of eloping with her lover, Sam Warren. It was true to nature and 
 full of poetry, and there was nothing in it to denote Ibsenism or any other ism. Mi.ss Grey is a young woman wlio takes her art 
 very seriously. When she accepts a part, she is not satisfied with learning the words and then repeating them like a parrot, but 
 studies her every action as well. It was love for her art that made her recently throw up a contract with Mr. Henry Miner and 
 accept an engagement with Mr. Richard Mansfield, for Mr. Mansfield has not the reputation in the profession of being the most 
 pleasant of men to work for. But he does understand his art, and if the public — such as the New York public — does not appreciate 
 his good work, so much the worse for them. Miss Grey did appreciate it and knew that in joining .Mr. Mansfield's forces she would 
 not have to stick to one role for months, but would gain experience in a large repertoire. Already she has played with him : Marcelle 
 in "A Parisian Romance," Agnes in "Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde," Marie Walewska in "Napoleon," Mariana in " Beau Brummel," 
 and Louka in "Arms and the Man." Her performances in these parts have been particularly well received in Boston. Miss Grey 
 comes from San Francisco. She entered the dramatic profession in 1889, when she became a member of Augustin Daly's company. 
 After one season there she joined Charles Frohman's forces, appearing as Mrs. Haverhill in " Shenandoah " and Evangeline in ".Ml 
 the Comforts of Home." She also played in "Jane" and " Chums," and created the part of Kate Fessenden in " The New South." 
 Before playing in " .Shore Acres " she took part in a production of " Roger La Honte " in -San Francisco. In almost every role she 
 has played. Miss Grey has shown a marked improvement on the one preceding it. If she continues in her good work it will not be 
 long before she finds herself enrolled among the American actresses of the very first rank; and as she has never exhibited any desire 
 to shun her responsibilities, we have no doubt that she will "arrive," as the French have it. Miss (irey was married a few years ago 
 to Paul Arthur, but has obtained a divorce from him. 
 
 Ih 
 
 —24-
 
 \ 
 
 
 (Kmin n phoU>>:mpli by li. J. Talk. New Vnrk.)
 
 «^ - o' > 
 
 ROBERT HILLI.A 
 
 IT is not on record that Mr. Robert Milliard, familiarly known as "Bob," 
 pored much over Shakespeare when he was passing through the commer- 
 cial course at the University of Neiv York or studying at Bishop's College 
 in Canada ; nor that when he first appeared in Wall Street as an office boy, he 
 spent his employer's time in spouting dramatic soliloquies. He had reached 
 the responsible position of confidential secretary to Mr. Edward Brandon, the 
 stockbroker, before he became stage-struck. Born in New York in May, 1857, 
 he drifted to Brooklyn, which we understand on the highest authority to be a 
 city well worth visiting — once. There be was attracted by the wild fascinations 
 of private theatricals, joined half a dozen or so amateur societies, and at length 
 became president of the Gilbert, in which he and Miss Edith Kingdon, now 
 Mrs. George Gould, often played leading parts together. When the Criterion 
 Theatre was built in the " City of Churches," Mr. Hilliard was offered and 
 accepted the management, and opened it with Lester Wallack in 
 " Rosedale " ; and then, too, he made his professional debut in 
 •'False Shame." in Uhich he played for a week with considerable 
 success. During the same season William Gillette's war play, 
 " Held by the Enemy," was performed for the first time at the 
 Criterion. At the last moment Mr. Hilliard was called upon to 
 take the place of the leading man, who had been suddenlv taken 
 sick. He had but si.x hours in which to learn his part. However, 
 with the aid of "books" in every entrance and "parts" of manu- 
 script strewn all over the stage, he did manage to get through it 
 without the prompting being perceptible so far as the audience was 
 concerned. The Criterion passed into other hands. Mr. Hilliard 
 made up his mind to leave the "bulls and bears" to take care of 
 themselves and determined to tread in sock and buskin. His first 
 salaried engagement was made with Mr. Charles Frohman, and he 
 appeared in the fall of 18S6 at the Standard Theatre, New Y'ork, in a 
 play by Henri Rochefort, called "A Daughter of Ireland." Miss 
 Georgia Cayvan played the heroine and Mr. Hilliard the part of Sir 
 Richard Sweeney. It was a preposterous play, full of fustian and 
 absurdity. Mr. Hiiliard's acting, which the critics found to be ama- 
 teurish and stiff, did not improve matters, and "A 
 Daughter of Ireland" proved a glorious failure. 
 -Mr. Hiiliard's ne.\t attempt, which was made in 
 "Saints and Sinners," with Mr. Stoddard, 
 Miss Annie Russell and Miss Marie Bur- 
 roughes in the leading parts, proved more of 
 a success, and when he appeared 
 
 J^ 
 ^ 
 
 :^~ 
 
 hit 
 
 As in a Looking Glass 
 
 with Mr. and Mrs. McKee 
 Rankin at the Fifth Avenue 
 Theatre, New York, in the 
 " Golden Giant," he made a 
 then with Nat Goodwin in 
 
 For a short time he played with Mrs. Langtry in 
 " Turned Up," in the original production of "Paul Kauvar," and in the matinee production of "Elaine" when 
 -Miss Annie Russell scored her first great success. Mr. Hilliard now started on a tour with "Mr. Barnes of 
 New York," which production netted .Messrs. Sanger and Gunther, it is said, over eighty thousand dollars in one 
 season. After playing iu "The Walloon" at the New York Star Theatre, Mr. Hilliard created the part of Perry 
 Bascom in Joseph Arthur's " Blue Jeans," and received much critical praise for the mannerjiii which he did it. 
 Mr. Hilliard is the author of a one-act play called "Adrift"; of "The Fabricator," played by Roland Reed under 
 the title of "As Innocent as a Lamb," and an adaptation of Robert Buchanan's '• Fra Gi'acomo. " For the iast four 
 years of her life Miss Matilda Heron was Mr. Hiiliard's dramatic preceptress, and what success he has met with 
 on the stage he owes to her teaching. 
 
 -26—
 
 7"^- 
 
 /i^m
 
 i^'WJ^f*rws^^i'4'mm^ 
 
 SARAH BERNHARDT. 
 
 ■ HERE are few persons on the stage about 
 whose genius so much has been said 
 and written as Madame Sarah Bern 
 hardt. Comparatively httte notice has been 
 '' ■ tal;en of her perseverance and industry — the 
 
 real causes of her success. We do not suppose there is any- 
 luie to deny that she lias exceptional natural endowments; but had it 
 not been for hej" arduous training in her profession, her acquisition of all 
 ts numerous branches, she would never have become the great actress she 
 is; and to-day Sarah Bernhardt, a woman of fifty and with an experience of 
 over thirty years on the stage, studies her parts as diligently as she did 
 when she was trying to blot out the memory of the comparative failure of 
 her hrst appearance at the Theatre Kranc^ais. There are some who consider 
 her the greatest actress of the day, others who will tell you that she is inferior 
 to La Duse. We have known Parisians who often saw Rachel, declare that 
 Sarah Bernhardt was as great as she in tragic parts. On the other hand, 
 Matthew Arnold said that Rachel began where Sarah left off. Be this as it 
 may, Sarah Bernhardt continues to fascinate the public of two worlds, not- 
 withstanding the bitter attacks that have been made upon lier art and in spite 
 of the talent of her rivals. Dramatic students may with advantage ponder over 
 the artistic life of Madame Bernhardt. One lesson they will learn from it is that 
 though they maybe endowed with what are popularly known as "artistic tempera- 
 ments," nature alone will not make them actors. They will discover, too, the mis- 
 take of believing that they need no study save that necessary to learn the words of the 
 part they are going to represent, and that they have only to step from private life onto 
 the stage to command immediate recognition. 
 
 Rosine Bernhardt, for that is her real name, was born in Paris, October 22, 1844. She 
 was a Jewess of French and Dutch parentage. When she was quite a child her father 
 caused her to be baptized, and she was placed in a convent near \'ersailles. She was 
 expelled four times from the sisterhood ami as many times returned to it full of repentance. 
 One of the nuns remarked when the child took her final departure: "She is either 
 destined to become a fearful subject of scandal in this world or a tremendous light in 
 the Church." She was given her choice between becoming an actress or a nun. She chose 
 the former and was admitted to the Paris Conservatoire in 1858. Having received second 
 prizes for tragedy and comedy, she was entitled to a debut at the Theatre Francais, and 
 this she made August 11, 1862, in the part of Iphrgenie. One critic described her as 
 " hflle ft elegante." The rest either left her severely alone or deplored having had in- 
 flicted on them such crude acting. .Sarah has always had a weakness for notoriety, and 
 during her brief stay at the Frangais she started to gain it by slapping a sister actress in 
 the face. .She went to the Gymnase and made a complete fiasco. Then she disappeared 
 from Paris, but later turned up at the Odeon, where Alexander Dumas discovered there 
 was something in her. It was not till 1872, hovvever, that by her performance of IDonna 
 .Maria in " Ruy Bias" she created a furore. The Comedie Fran^aise threw open its 
 doors to her and almost took her by force from the Odeon. It was not until two years 
 later, when she and Sophie Croizette appeared together in " Le Sphin.x," that her position 
 was a,ssured. In 1S80 she severed her connection with the Comedie Fran^aise and played in London, where she became the craze, 
 and the good liritons made fools of themselves over the talented Gaul. She exhibited a collection of her paintings and sculptures, 
 more or less painful to look at, and got Mr. (Gladstone to visit her at the gallery where they were shown. The French courts con- 
 demned Sarah to pay twenty thousand dollars costs and damages to the Comedie Frangaise for her breach of contract, and she 
 travelled all over Europe, to be courted by sovereigns, feted by statesmen and lauded by literary men. In 1881 she paid her first visit 
 to this country, where, strangely enough, her self-advertising methods were frowned upon, but her genius was acknowledged and 
 not too indiscriminately praised. In April, 1882, the divine Sarah married Damala, a handsome actor of Greek origin. She soon 
 afterwards divorced him. Later they " made it up," and in 18S9 he died. But what interesting things Sarah has done during the 
 past fifty years would fill ponderous tomes. What she has not done would be scarcely worth mentioning.
 
 
 
 s 
 
 SOL SMITH RUSSELL. 
 
 OL SMITH RUSSELL is an actor of the people just as Charles 
 Dickens was the people's novelist. He is unlike any other 
 player on the American stage. He ever appeals to the better 
 feeling of his audience but never indulges in cheap claptrap. His 
 pathos is never maudlin; there is no coarseness in his drollery. At 
 one moment he moves you to laughter, at the next he will be causing 
 tears; but he does not harp upon a melancholy string. His method is 
 so simple, his play so free from all theatrical device, his style so natural, 
 that you are liable to forget that it is an artist of no ordinary talent who 
 can present to you a picture so true to nature. The success he has had 
 in his particular line took him many a long year to gain, and he lias 
 been nearly everything on the stage from negro song and dance man up- 
 ward. Mr. Russell was born in Brunswick, Mo., in 1848. When the War 
 broke out he enlisted as a drummer boy and made his first public appearance 
 on the stage in a canvas-covered theatre put up by the soldiers at Cairo, 111. 
 Here he sang between the acts and drummed in the orchestra for six dollars 
 a week. Then he was advanced to play the part of a negro girl in "The 
 Hidden Hand " and sang patriotic songs. He joined a strolling company and 
 tried to add walking on a slack wire to his other accomplishments, but 
 in this he signally failed. When he was seventeen years old he was en- 
 gaged as second low comedian at Ben. DeBar's theatre, in St. Louis, 
 laving in the meanwhile gone through pretty hard times, which, how- 
 ever, never appear to have affected his good spirits. A little later he 
 made a western tour with the Berger family and gained some reputation 
 as a humorist, comic singer and lecturer. Then we find him a 
 member of the stock company at the Chestnut Street Theatre, 
 Philadelphia, and a few years later with Augustin Daly's company 
 at the Fifth .-\ venue Theatre, New York. Mr. liussell had by this 
 time gained the name of being a first-rate comedian, and several 
 managers tried to induce him to "star" for them. His old friend, 
 Mr. Fred tl. lierger, succeeded in doing so and Mr. Russell ap- 
 peared as the star in ' ' Edgewood 
 Folks" at a salary of fifty dollars 
 a week, which in 1880 was con- 
 sidered munificent. He made an 
 instant success and for five years 
 in succession he played in the same 
 piece. He was given a third share 
 in the stock company and then be- 
 came Mr. Berger's full partner. 
 "Edgewood Folks," which was 
 written by J. E. Brown, of Boston, 
 was a very comprehensive piece. 
 In it Mr. Ru.ssell sang seven 
 songs and made ten changes, and 
 this he did for fifteen hundred per- 
 iam Warren's retirement from the stage, Mr. Russell 
 
 formances. For a short time after Mr. W 
 
 filled his parts at the Boston Museum and then issued forth as a star once more in the "Country 
 Editor" and " Pa." Then came "Bewitched," by E. E. Kidder, and ".A Poor Relation," by the 
 same author, in which play Mr. Russell played the part of Noah \'ale, the poor inventor. This 
 was followed by "The Tale of a Coat," written by Dion Boucicault during the last year of his 
 life. It was produced at Daly's Theatre, New York. It was a failure and .Mr. Clyde Fitch made 
 an entirely new play out of it, called ".April Weather," which was far more successful. 
 
 4-ii^''^^p2»'
 
 
 S^i&Oiiix-S'v.ij.ijft*!*.- 
 
 
 
 LILY LANGTRY. 
 
 To describe Mrs. Langtry as a 
 great actress or to say there is any possibility of her ever becom- 
 ing so would be absurd. But to insist that she has no talsjnt 
 y^, for the stage and has not acquired dramatic skill would be 
 
 ?--^^ equally ridiculous. As an artist she has her limitations and no 
 51 ®(f|^ one knows that better than she does herself. She has none of 
 that fascmating strangeness, that wildness of inspiration which 
 are characteristics of those human beings who bear the sacred fire; 
 but how few and far between those persons are! She is not always 
 convincing, for she rarely merges herself into the role she is playing 
 and never quite reaches the heart. But, on the other hand, how 
 delightful it is to look upon her almost perfect face, to watch the 
 graceful movements of her superb figure and to listen to her melodious 
 voice. We may not care to see her Rosalind more than once; be glad 
 at Lady Macbeth is no longer in her repertoire, and that she has ceased to 
 uliet or Julia in "The Hunchback "; but she can be exceedingly good in 
 parts, for instance, as the heroine of "A Wife's Peril," and has undoubtedly 
 great strides in her profession since she first determined to make her living 
 ;tress. Before that she had been not merely the passing figure of a season 
 held her own amid the feverish competition of London life. Rival after 
 rival had attempted to oust her from her throne but had been forced to retire into 
 the obscurity from which they came. During this time, lionized, worshipped, 
 mobbed at railway stations and even in Hyde Park, she had not only moved as an 
 equal but reigned as a sovereign in that rather nii.xed set, the entree to which is 
 most highly cov-eted in England. Her face was as familiar to the country folks 
 as that of the Queen; one of the Cairo donkeys was called "Lily Langtry," and 
 we remember in 18S1 finding a portrait of her nailed up in a snowshed on Mar- 
 shall Pass, Colorado. All this was not her doing, but society's. The wife of a 
 not wealthy Belfast man, the daughter of an impecunious Dean of St. Heliers, 
 London society insisted in placing her on its throne. It was an ordeal that might 
 have transfigured St. Agnes herself. But in IVIrs. Langtry 's case the victim un- 
 derwent no visible change. Royal academicians had protested a head more per- 
 fect had never been possessed by woman. The poets of the period hailed her 
 as the new Helen of Troy. Princes and peers prostrated themselves before her. 
 ■tS Society's verdict was so strong that it silenced the voice of feminine malignity, 
 except in the case of a few dowagers who objected to her intrusion in the Buck- 
 mgham Palace ballroom into that part reserved for duchesses and marchionesses, and 
 even they ended by joining in the general worship. And yet Mrs. Langtry, to whom 
 society had suggested the calling of professional beauty, was not greatly moved by all 
 these things. Unlike her forerunners, the Gunnings, she displayed no insolence, and to 
 the end of her brilliant reign was as courteous to city clerk as she was to heir apparent 
 .\or should there be laid to her account, as there has been, ctn&m g^aiiciurits and lack 
 of sa7)oir /aire of which an Irish rival was really guilty. But to be a queen of 
 society is an expensive affair, and the news was published that Mrs. Langtry, having 
 been a success in some private theatricals, would appear on the public stage. Her 
 debut was made in London, in December, 1S81, as Miss Hardcastle in '• She Stoops to 
 Conquer," and the Bancrofts, .seeing she could not fail to be a drawing card, 
 in "Caste." In the fall of the following year Mrs. Langtry arrived in New York and 
 was to have appeared at the Park Theatre. It was burned down a few hours before her debut was to have been made, and it was 
 at Wallack's that she first appeared jjcfore an American public, on November 6, 1882. as Hester Grazebrook in "An Unequal 
 Match." Her first season in this country netted her $102,000, her second, that of 1883-84, something near $75,000. Her third 
 was not successful, for after having staged " Macbeth " at a great expense, she found American audiences did not appreciate her as 
 Lady Macbeth. She has returned to us again still a marvellously beautiful woman, who in spite of her forty years has been able to 
 defy wrinkles and to preserve her wonderful complexion. 
 
 engaged her for the pan of Blanche Hayes
 
 
 ^S;^ 
 
 %:^ 
 

 
 failier was once 
 
 R. WM. E.GILLETTE 
 
 was born at Hartford. Conn. 
 
 United States Senator for Connecticut and one of his brothers was 
 for a time Congressman from one of the Western States. He graduated 
 at the Hartford High School and studied also at the University of the 
 City of New York and at the Boston University. As a boy he had 
 been famous among his playfellows for his proficiency in the languages of cats, dogs and poultry, and as 
 he grew up he developed a taste for the stage. He gave public readings at a number of the villages and 
 towns in his .State and was especially successful in his miitations of the elder Sothern. But his parents had a 
 thoroughly New England prejudice against actor folk and frowned upon any idea of a stage career for their son. 
 He cut the knot by running away from home. He met "Ben" DeBar, of St. Louis, who, finding that Mr. 
 Gillette was willing to work for nothing a week and buy his own costumes, engaged hmi as leading utility man 
 for his New Orleans stock company ; but as soon as the question of salary was raised he received his conge. 
 Mark Twain, who was a neighbor of the Gillettes in Hartford, obtained for him a position with John T. Ray- 
 mond, and he appeared at the Globe Theatre, Boston, in "The Gilded Age." For two seasons he was with 
 Macauley's stock company in Cincinnati and Louisville and afterwards spent a season with a travelling company. 
 He then set to work on a piece called " The Professor," taken from a character sketch. He spent a year and 
 all the money he had— "and all the money another man had," he will tell you — trying to start it. Luck turned 
 at last. .The play got a hearing, with Mr. Gillette in the tule role, at the Madison Square Theatre, New York. 
 It was a great success and ran at that theatre from the beginning of June until the end of the following October. 
 For two seasons it was played in the principal cities in the Union. "The Professor " was succeeded at the 
 Madison Square Theatre by '■ Esmeralda," in the writing of which Mr. Gillette assisted Mrs. Hodgson Burnett. 
 At the close of "The Professor's" successful run he played for a season in "Young Mrs. \Vinthrop." In 
 September, 1S84, he produced at the Comedy Theatre, New York, his adaptation of \'on Mosler's " Der Biblio- 
 ■ thekar" under the title of " Digby's Secretary." in which he played the part of the secretary, the Rev. Job 
 
 McCosh. On the same night ^Ir. A. M. Palmer produced "The Private .Secretary," Hawtrey's adaptation of 
 the same German play. Both proved successful and a lawsuit was pending between the owners of the two 
 plays. A compromise, however, was agreed upon. The best parts of each adaptation were combined and 
 Mr. Gillette played the Private Secretary with great success for about two years. Meanwhile he was at work 
 on " Held by the Enemy," which was first produced at the Criterion Theatre, Brooklyn, in 1886. Mr. Gillette occasionally played 
 the part of Thomas Bean, the special artist for an illustrated paper, m the principal cities of this country. In the following year his 
 adaptation of Rider Haggard's " She " was produced in New York. In 1890 came his " All the Comforts of Home," from the 
 German, and in 1891 another of his works, "Mr. Wilkinson's Widows," adapted from Alexandre Buisson's "Feu Toupinel." 
 But the author had in the meanwhile been compelled to retire temporarily from the stage on account of sickness. He has reappeared 
 to delight crowded houses in " Too Much Johnson." in which his performance of a modern Ananias is a delightfully racy piece of 
 work. The idea of one act of the play is borrowed. " Too Much Johnson " is beyond this entirely original. 
 
 r 
 
 —34-
 
 n-'rnin ;i phnto>;ra|)!i Iiy Sjimny, New York.)
 
 OLGA NETHERSOLE. 
 
 O.MK stock company has siifferetl a great loss in not liaving 
 Miss Oiga Nethersoleasa member, but the public — or, at any 
 rate, the American public — has gained nothing by seeing her 
 as a star. If she has the divine afflatus that the English critics declare she has, 
 she failed to prove it either in "The Transgressor" or in "Camille." She has 
 undoubtedly certain charms such as vouth. good looks and grace of figure a& well 
 as of manner. .She possesses a musical voice and a sympathetic personality, but 
 she is of the stage stagey. Her art is not yet so rounded that she can hide its tricks; 
 when she would be intense she is simply e.xaggerated, and her emotions rarely appear 
 spontaneous. Perhaps, behind all this there is true genius, for we must remember 
 that the genius of Sarah Jiernhartit was not recognized for years and that of Sarah 
 -Siddons lay hidden under a bushel for a long time before Lord Ailesbury discovered 
 it. And even then she was a failure in London. But Miss Nethersole's genius has 
 not yet shown itself m this country. .Miss Xethersole has only been on the sta;.;e 
 seven years and had not been on it five when she took to starring in .Australia. Sarah 
 Siddons had been an actress fourteen years before London would accept her. Not for 
 a moment do 1 wish to imply that Miss Xethersole is not fifty per cent, better than the majority 
 of our emotional stars; but I cannot agree with the P-nglish critics who hail her as the suc- 
 cessor of .Adelaide Neilson. That she tiiay become so I do not deny, for Neilson only be- 
 came a great actress a few years before she died. There would be more hope for her were 
 she not surrounded by so many busy flatterers in London town, who will doubtless tell 
 er we .Americans cannot recognize true genius when we see it. 
 
 Miss Xethersole, who is the youngest daughter of a London solicitor, was born 
 in the roval borough of Kensington some twenty-five years ago. Most 
 of her childhood was spent in Germany. When she was eighteen 
 she made her first appearance on the stage at the Theatre 
 Royal, Brighton, playing the part of Lettice Vance, the in- 
 genue role in "Harvest." Then she joined the company 
 of .Arthur Dacre and his wife (Amy Roselle) and played in 
 ;:' the English provinces and afterwards with the companies 
 
 ol Lionel ISrough and Willie Edouin. Her first London 
 ■' / hit was made in melodrairia at the Adelphi Theatre. She 
 ;'' next accepted an engagement to play the second woman's part 
 in Pinero's " Profligate," at the Garrick Theatre, and afterwards 
 was engaged as understudy to Mrs. Bernard Beere in " La Tosca." 
 This was immediately followed by her going to Australia with 
 her own companv. When she returned to London she took 
 the part of Countess Zicka in the revival of "Diplomacy." 
 Miss Xethersole became a character in London society and 
 was asked everywhere. As society is not as a rule 
 very discriminating in its praise, this may have turned 
 the head of the charming young actress. At any 
 rate she hired the Garrick Theatre and produced there 
 A. W. Gattie's piece called "The Transgre.ssor. " It 
 made a tremendous hit in London, though why it is 
 difficult to under-.tand. Labouchere told .Miss Nether.sole that all the great heroines of dramatic fiction were at her command. She 
 came to this country and opened in "The Transgressor" at Palmer's Theatre, New York, last October. She proved a disappoint- 
 ment. When she next appeared, and for the first time in the part, as Marguerite Gautier — or as we absurdly insist upon calling 
 her, Camille — in an antiquated and horrible translation of " La Dame aux Camelias," some did recognize in her a great actress; but 
 she was still very stagey. It should be stated that the version used was not the one Miss Xethersole had studied, and that she had 
 to relearn the part of Marguerite because, forsooth, Americans have stood a poor translation for nearly forty years. 
 
 -36-
 
 (I'r.iiu a |>h.>t<>u><'M>l> '>J' Sarony, New York.)
 
 
 % 
 
 
 R.FREDERIC DE -" 
 
 BELLEVILLE has no ,"_ /'' 
 equal on the American 
 stage of to-day as a "leading man." 
 It may be that he will not startle his audiences i 
 with a highly original conception, but he is al- 
 ays sure to give it a performance far above the mediocre, 
 riiis is not " damning with small praise," for although Mr. 
 (le lielleville cannot be considered one of the great mod- 
 ern actors, there are many leading parts he has hlltd far 
 more satisfactorily than could the greatest ; and he has 
 r made a failure. Mr. William Winter has de- 
 bed him as "an actor who has manliness, grace, passion, 
 bility and presence, a rich voice and finished style, and m 
 hose acting the illusion is always perfectly preserved." 
 
 In short he is an excellent all-round actor. The son of a colonel in the Belgian 
 army, Mr. de Belleville was born at Liege. He served as a soldier for a short 
 
 time, but getting sick of discipline, crossed to London and took up 
 
 /i''^/ ■ ^^K^i^^'^^^^l^ ^ "'^ °^^^Bk il^^ ^^'^ stage as a profession. He made his first appearance in "Fair 
 
 mM J ^S^^^^^I^^^HL i;'^^^^^ ^^^^ Rosamond" and then got an engagement in a stock company in tlie 
 
 ^Q^ '\^HII|B''I^^IHKL'^ -"^ •^^^HHft.^K university city of Cambridge, where he gained plenty of experience. 
 
 'D^ , ,, N\Hi^^ j^^BI^^^ '■ji-^ ^W^^V v'" having to play in a different piece each night. After performing in 
 
 pantomime — that is, what is called in England pantomime — he was 
 engaged by John Hollingshead to play at the Gaiety, his first appear- 
 ance there being made in "Much Ado About Nothing." He scored 
 his first hit in the part of Prince Kotchicoff in "My Awful Dad," 
 which he played with the late Charles Mathev.s. .After three years' 
 service at the Gaiety and performances at some other London theatres, he went 
 to Australia and was a great success in Sardou's "Our Friends" {•• A'os Iii- 
 times"). A year later he was in San Francisco, where he was engaged by Mr. 
 "Tom " Maguire. While performing there Mr. de Belleville was seen acting by 
 Mr. A. M. Palmer, who made him an offer to join the L'nion Square (New York) 
 company. That company was then at the height of its prosperity, and as a 
 member of it .Mr. de Belleville fir.st came into notice in New York. In " Daniel 
 Rochat," "The Danicheffs," "The Two Orphans" and "The Lights o' Lon- 
 don" he had remarkable success, and while playing in these pieces appeared 
 at the same theatre as leading support of Clara Morris at a series of matinees 
 gii'en at the same theatre. .At the close of a three-year engagement with 
 Mr. Palmer, Mr. de Belleville appeared as a star first in "The Corsican 
 Brothers" and later in "Monte Cristo, " "The Silver King" and Bartley 
 Campbell's "Paquita," in which last play he was particularly successful. He 
 then returned to San Francisco as leading man at the California Theatre. For a season he supported Miss Rose Coghlan and after- 
 ward created the part of the Due de Beaumont in Steele Mackaye's " Paul Kauvar," when it was produced at Buffalo. This was 
 followed by his appearance in •' Hoodman IMind," and then for two seasons he supported Clara Morris. He then appeared in " i\Ien 
 and Women," as Henry Beauclerc in "Diplomacy" and Martial Hugon in " Thcrniidor." He joined the Coghlans and played 
 Count Orloff as well as Henry Beauclerc in " Diplomacy " and when W. H. Crane revived " The Senator," took the part of Count 
 Von Strahl. At this writing lie is playing in " To Nemesis " at the Star Theatre, New York. 
 
 .3 
 
 -38-
 
 iKroiii a phnliiKiapIi hy Sarniiy, New \t»U.
 
 r 
 
 ■ The New Wom- 
 an " was produced for the 
 first time in New York it 
 was not so much the fame of the play's great 
 success in London, nor the knowledge that Syd- 
 ney Grundy had put into it some of his best work, that 
 attracted most of the audience. Thev had come to wel- 
 come back to the stage Miss Annie Russell, the poetical 
 beauty of whose Elaine could never be effaced from the 
 memories of those who had seen it. To reproduce before the 
 garish footlights, where the touch must be broad and bold to 
 give effect, a character so refined — the most delicately pure ever 
 
 created by poet's fancy — as that of the Lily Maid of .Astolat. seemed an impossibility until 
 .Miss .Annie Russell appeared as the heroine of Tennyson's " Idyll " at the Madison Square 
 Theatre, New York. It was the crowning effort of her artistic career, but before she 
 could gather all the laurels thrown at her feet the new Elaine succumbed to a sickness whose 
 shadow had been hovering over her since childhood. For nearly four years she was a help- 
 less invalid ; time and again she was face to face with death and rarely free from pain. 
 Through it all the gentle sweetness of her character showed itself more strongly than ever. 
 A winter and spring passed in Italy almost completed the cure the New York doctors had 
 commenced. She returned to the stage. The reception Miss Russell received when she 
 appeared as Margery in "The New Woman " showed how delighted the public was to see 
 this most charming and simple of ingenues again and to hear once more her melodious voice. 
 Miss Annie Russell was born in Liverpool, England. Her father was a Dublin Univer- 
 sity man of considerable talent and her mother an Englishwoman. When she was eleven 
 years old she made her first theatrical appearance at Montreal as one of the children in 
 " Miss Multon," .Miss Rose Eytinge acting the leading character, and continued to play 
 children's parts in the regular stock company. The following season found her in New 
 York, where she joined Haverly's Juvenile "Pinafore" Company, first singing in the chorus and later the 
 part of Josephine. Then came the inevitable Eva of " L'ncle Tom's Cabin " and a few other characters of minor 
 importance. The young lady had now reached that awkward age which the fairest upon earth must needs pass 
 through before they blossom forth into beautiful womanhood. So she was sent off to the West Indies with G. A. 
 McDowell's stock company, principally to look after her small brother, Tommy Russell, the original Little Lord Fauntleroy, who was 
 to play the children's parts, and incidentally to fill any role that she might be suited to. The manager appears to have found a good 
 many for her to fill, and as she will laughingly tell you, she became a sort of maid of all work to the company. She was thrust into 
 such parts as Moya in " The Shaughraun," Lord IJarnley in " The Field of the Cloth of Gold " and Old Mrs. Gummidge in " Little 
 Emily"; she played the British "slavey" and the mischievous boy. In short, she gave the West Indians a 
 taste of her quality in pretty well every class of character except that of old men and villains. Miss Rus- 
 sell's first generally recognized success was made when she returned to New York and created the title role 
 of Esmeralda at the Madison Square (now Hoyt's) Theatre. For nearly three hundred and fifty nights she 
 charmed the New York theatre-goer with this performance, and for a season fascinated 
 audiences on the road in the same part. After playing for a short time in John Stetson's 
 troupe she rejoined the .Madison Square company. It was her Elaine that placed her in 
 the first rank of actresses, and it was at the age of twenty-one that she was compelled to 
 retire from a position she had securely established for herself in the world of art. 
 
 y." 
 
 -40-
 
 (Kritni a photojpaph by Sarony, New Vork)
 
 he disports — 'Flams, 
 
 THK ILLUSTRATED AMERICAN re- 
 cently said of William E. Hoey: 
 presume that it will strike some — 
 many — persons as an absurdity to speak ol 
 William E. Hoey — 'Bill' Hoey is the way 
 he is usually spoken of — as an artist. He is 
 an artist, though. His style of performaiu-e 
 
 may be coarse and rough; but his manner of doing it is refined and 
 his methods are genuinely artistic in their way. The plays in which 
 'The Parlor Match' and so on — are not such as the world of letters unwillingly lets die; but for all that 
 there is a distinctive delicacy in Hoey's exLra\'agances, a nice sense of proportion, coloring, high light and shadow that give his effects 
 the character of intelligently-conceived impersonations. .-Xud therefore I make bold to term Mr. Hoey an arti.st." Now, this artist, 
 who as a renderer of topical songs — and we use the word " renderer " advisedly, for no one can accuse Mr. Hoey of being a singer — 
 has no rival on the American stage, made his debut at a variety show as a performer on the cow horn and cow bells. This was in 
 the spring of 1874 and the debut was made at Tony Pastor's Theatre, New York. The idea was novel and it made such a hit that 
 the size of the letters which formed his name on the bill, as well as his salary, was increased. The following vear found him a mem- 
 ber of Carrington's circus, which gave him an opportunity of doing many things, including the "side show spiel " and a musical act 
 in "the concert." But the circus came to grief and Hoey went to Savannah, Ga., in search of an engagement. He found one, but 
 at the end of three weeks discovered that no salary was attached to the position; at any rate, if there ever had been one it had disap- 
 peared. A longing to return to New York, where he was born in 1855. came over him. But he hadn't a cent to bless himself with. 
 All he owned was the clothes he had on, exxellent health and an inexhaustible fund of good humor. Thus equipped, he started to 
 walk home. Before he reached New York he learned to appreciate the comic side of a tramp's existence and he conceived the char- 
 acter of " Old Hoss." determining that if fortune ever smiled upon him he would place that remarkable being on the stage. He paid 
 his way by jokes along the road, gained a number of friends on the route through his infinite good humor, and when he arrived at 
 last at his native city could boast he had not received a pennyworth of charity. In i876 he entered into partnership with Fred 
 Bryant, and the firm, under the name of Bryant and Hoey, did a musical act which brought dollars as well as applause. Then for 
 five years they were members of Tony Pastor's company. In 1882 was formed the firm of Xiles, Evans, Bryant and Hoey, known 
 as the Black Comedy team, which met with great siurcess all over the country in a short piece called "The Meteors." In 1884 
 Evans and Hoey joined forces and made the great hit of their lives in "A Parlor Match," by Charles Hoyt. Mr. Hoyt was a Boston 
 newspaper paragrapher when Mr. Hoey suggested to him that he should weave the specialties of himself and his partner into a one- 
 act farce. Hoey's experiences as a tramp came in good stead and "Old Hoss" was the result. "The Book .Agent, or a Parlor 
 Match," was the first of these farce-comedies which have driven the dramatic critics almost crazy, but which have made the fortunes 
 of many men in the theatrical profession. "The Parlor Match" ran until last May, when owing to the failing health of Mr. Evans 
 the partnership of Evans and Hoey was dissolved. " Bill " Hoey then produced " The Flams,"
 
 , |,li..l,)Kr.i|ili l.>
 
 LLK. ZELIE DE LUSSAN— 
 these are no stage names, fur 
 the one she received by inher- 
 ice and the other at the baptismal 
 ont — has one gift that has been 
 denied to most American song- 
 birds — a dramatic instinct. .She 
 i> not only a singer of the first 
 rank, with a voice full of feel- 
 ing, but she is an admirable 
 actress. This she doubtless 
 owes to her Latni origin, for 
 lough born and bred in New York, 
 h her parents are French, and Mile, 
 de Lussan is herself French to the tips 
 of her lingers. Her beauty is of that rich type wliich we imagine must have come from 
 a Bearnaise source; there is just the faintest suspicion of a French accent in the roll of her 
 R's; and like many of the daughters of Gaul, she preserves that r/z/V" which can neither 
 be translated into nor defined in English. To her mother, Madame Eugenie de Lussan, 
 who was a well-known singer in earlier days, she owes her lyric talent and education, for 
 she has had no other teacher in singing. The other arts she learned at Madame Myers' 
 well-known school m New York. Her first public appearance was made when she was 
 nine years old and sang at a charity concert given at the church of the Rev. George Hep- 
 worth, whose .Sunday sermons published in the Xew N'oik Hi-rald are leading so many 
 misguided .Americans back into the paths of grace. .After having gained considerable 
 praise for her singing at the Wagner Festivals in this country, .Mile, de Lussan joined the 
 Boston Ideal Opera Company. Her first appearance with this company was made as 
 .\rline in " The Bohemian Girl." and so great was her success that she was engaged for 
 the ne.\t three years by the English Opera Company. With it she travelled through the 
 United States and took the leading soprano parts in "The Daughter of the Regiment. " 
 " Carmen," " The Eli.\ir of Love," '• Faust," '■ Giralda," and " The Queen's Musketeers." 
 She was playing Carmen in Philadelphia when Colonel Mapleson, the English impresario, 
 heard her and advised her to go to England, where he felt sure she would meet with suc- 
 cess. Mile, de Lussan went to London in 1888, more with the idea of enjoying a much- 
 needed rest than of obtaining an engagement. While there, however, she sang the part of 
 Carmen at Covent Garden, and with such success that she 
 was at once engaged for the coming season. She came 
 bick to mis country and returned to London in i88g to 
 make hei first appearance at Her Majesty's Theatre under 
 Colonel .Mapleson's management as .Marguerite. Mlle.de 
 Lussan was "a very |ialpable hit." and more than con- 
 firmed the good impression she had made when she ap- 
 peared as Carmen, since which time her voice had gained 
 in richness. The beauty of her voice, the charm of her 
 acting and the true Italian style of her singing, almi'i,c 
 forgotten by modern "ocalists, together with her youth and good looks, at once made her a favorite 
 with the British pubnc. For U\tt years she has retained a very tender spot in the heart of the 
 people of Great Britain and Ireland. During this season she repeated her success in •' Carmen " 
 and also san.j the part of Zerliua in " Don Giovanni." She then joined the Carl Rosa opera troupe, 
 which has done so much towards musical education in the Britisii Isles. When the Italian opera 
 season opened in London in the following summer. Mile, de Lussan again appeared as Carmen at 
 the Covent Garden Theatre, under the management of Sir .Augustus Harris. It was a memorable 
 cast that night, for Jean de Reszke took the part of Don Jose. Mile. .Mclba that of Michaela — both 
 for the first time — and Lassalle was the Toreador, Over five hundred times has .Mile, de Lussan 
 played Carmen in English, French and Italian. 
 
 ^(^tgf^G; 
 
 
 — 4-t^
 
 (Kn.in ;i |.li..l"k:ni|ill I'V 
 
 ■.rhri.:. (■l.i..K.., 1" >
 
 
 EDOUARI) DE RESZKE. 
 
 EIJIJUARD DE RESZKE is as distinguished an artist as his elder brother Jean, a sketch of whom appeared in the precedinsj 
 number of the Gallkrv of Plavkus. Edouard was born on December 23. 1855, at Warsaw. His father was a Councillor 
 of State and a man of some prominence in Poland. Warsaw is a sort of half-way house between the rest of Europe and St. 
 Petersburg, and the great musicians would usually halt there on their way to the Russian capital. As Madame de Reszke was a 
 remarkable musician herself, they were naturally attracted while at Warsaw to the State Councillor's salons, so that the young De 
 Reszkes were brought up in a musical atmosphere. Edouard was intended for a farming life and he underwent a course of scientific 
 studies at the College d'.A.griculture of Priskao, in Silesia. But Jean, who had just entered on his extraordinarily successful career 
 on the stage, persuaded Edouard to desert bucolicism and to try the more remunerative profession of singing. Nature had endowed 
 him with a tremendous bass voice and a huge frame, though not quite as big as that of his celebrated predecessor, Lablache, of 
 whom Henry Chorley said. "One could have clad a child in one of his gloves." Until his brother spoke to him on the subject 
 Edouard had never thought of becoming a second Lablache. However, having once made up his mind to be a singer, he worked 
 hard and with the best masters. Jean was one of them. Ceaffei, Stetler and Coletti were the others. When Jean first took his 
 brother in hand, Edouard was twenty years old. He had a voice that resembled nothing so much as that we are led to understand 
 was possessed by the bull of Bashan. It took some time before he was able to get it under control, but by degrees it developed into 
 a rich, profound bass of a range and quality seldom heard. His art, like that of Jean, was founded on the traditions of the old 
 Italian school — the school which had produced the Giuglinis, the Marios, the Pastas, the Crisis and the Lablaches of the past; and 
 now that great voice of Edouard de Reszke can be tender, soft and low at one moment and at the ne.xt rise into mighty tones of 
 splendid liinbrc. It was in April, 1S76, that Edouard de Reszke made his debut at the Salle X'entadour (the celebrated old Italien's 
 where Orsini attempted the life of Napoleon III.), in Paris. On that occasion he sang the part of the King in " .-Vida, " and will 
 even to-day relate with pride that his first appearance in public was made sons la baguette dc Verdi — under the leadership of the great 
 old composer himself. His debut was a success and gave promise of a great future. In Paris he continued to sing for two seasons, 
 and that city is now \.\\^ pied a terre of the De Reszke brothers and of the family of Edouard, who married a Mademoiselle Schullz, 
 a well-known singer in the French capital. In 1880 he went to Italy and at Turin created II Re in Catalims •• Elda" and Charles 
 V. in Marchetti's "Don John of Austria." .At Milan he appeared in the production of Ponchilli's ■• Prodigal Son." But it is need- 
 less to recapitulate all the parts Edouard de Reszke has created or appeared in, especially as we are not likely to see him in the 
 majority of them. Suffice it to say that when he arrived in this country in 1S91 he had a repertoire of sixty-five parts and has since 
 added considerably to it. During the seasons of 1880-84 ''e sang with llie Royal Italian Opera in London. He first took his place 
 as a foremost lyric artist by his performances of St. Bris, the CoLint in " Sonnambula." Basilio, and later on as Mephistopheles, which 
 part he played to Jean's Faust and .Adelina Patti's Marguerite, in Paris, on the occasion of the five hundredth performance of "Faust," 
 November 4, 1887. Less than a month before he had appeared as Leporello in the centenary performance of " Don Giovanni." 
 Edouard and Jean de Reszke appeared together for Sir .Augustus Harris at Covent Garden, London, in 1888. It was known as the 
 De Reszke year and made the fortune of Sir .Augustus. They came here in 1891. Edouard made his first appearance at the Metro- 
 politan Opera House on December 14 of that year and played the part of Friar Laurence in " Romeo et Juliette." At first perhaps 
 the American public did not appreciate how great an artist he was, but when he appeared as Mephistopheles in "Faust," a favorite 
 part of his, it was realized that in that particular role lie had no equal. To-day it is acknowledged by all that he is the head bass 
 singer and actor on the lyric stage. The modern operas do not give the same opportunities to a bass voice as those which delighted 
 our fathers and mothers, and Edouard de Reszke has lately tried his hand, and with great success, at playing baritone parts. He has 
 appeared, for instance, during the present operatic season as Escainillo in "Carmen." If he is somewhat bulky for the part, h« 
 plays the role of the braggart, bullying toreador to the life and sings the music to perfection. Last summer he created in London the 
 King's part in Bemberg's "Elaine," the book of which is taken from Tennyson's " Idylls of the Kings"; and he and his brother Jean 
 will appear in the opera in this country. In appearance Edouard de Reszke bears a striking resemblance to the late Czar of Russia as 
 he was ten years ago. 
 
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