A EDITED BY F. G. De FONTAINE NEW YORK : Copyright, 187", by G. IV. Carleton & Co., Publishers. LONDON : 8. LOW & CO. MDCCCLXXVIII. TROW'S NG AND BOOKBINDING CO., LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGB DUNDREARY AND THE CRUSHED TRAGEDIAN Frontispiece DUNDREARY IN A DILEMMA 25 LOVE IN A HORNET'S NEST , 41 DAVID GARRICK 71 BROTHER SAM 99 SOTHERN IN HIS DRESSING ROOM 121 CRUSHED TRAGEDIAN 151 SOTHERN IN HIS FISHING BOOTS 183 BIRDS OP A FEATHER.. . 223 TABLE OF CONTENTS. PAOH INTRODUCTION xi Pen and Ink Sketch of Edward A. Sothern i 15 The Actor's early Life 18 A Reminiscence of Charles Kean 19 First Experience in New York 21 Lord Dundreary, the Origin of 23 The Dundreary Hop 24 Birds of a Feather 24 Dundreary in a Dilemma 25 A new Dundreary 28 David Garrick 29 The Authorship of "David Garrick" and "Home " 30 History of " David Garrick " 33 The "Crushed Tragedian"... 35 A Criticism of the " Crushed " 36 The "Hornet's Nest" 39 A Criticism of the " Hornet's Nest " 41 A Love Story necessary to a Successful Play 45 W. S. Gilbert, the Dramatic Author 46 Henry 3. Byron 47 Byron's Wit 49 [vii] viii TABLE OF CONTENTS. PAQB English Actors 51 Gustavus V. Brooke and Charles Matthews 52 Buckstone 54 Incidents of the Stage 54 Audiences and Actors 56 Temperament as an Element of Success 58 Annoyances of Managers 59 TJnremembered Cues 61 " I've swallowed the File " 64 An Experience with " Brother Professionals " 66 Studies from Life 67 Jem Ward, the Pugilist. 70 Personal Traits 75 Impressions of America 76 Experience in Nova Scotia 78 An absent-minded Actor 79 An A'ctor's Apology 80 Sold by a "Waiter 82 Taking down a Colonel 83 Saving the City of Halifax 84 A Glasgow Supper Party 86 An Amateur Ventriloquist 91 A Joke on his Manager 95 Autograph Hunters 96 The Art of Flying 97 Sothern and the Count Joannes 105 California Hospitality Sothern in Jail 109 Reminiscences of a Manager 117 Sothern in his Dressing-room 120 A Tribute from Mr. Stephen Fiske 124 The Dummy Cornetist 125 Sothern in London 128 TABLE OF CONTENTS. ix PAQH A sociable Shower-bath 130 An Omnibus Adventure 131 Sothern and Toole 133 Managerial Compliments 134 Caught at Last 135 A Spiritual Joke 136 As a Conjuror 137 Under the Table 138 A Hunting Incident 140 Two Bob for a Somersault 143 A Befogged Clerk 143 Dundreary in Handcuffs 145 Sothern Criticised by George W. Childs 150 A Row at the Gramercy Park Hotel 154 Sothern in an English railway car 158 A Breakfast Party with Toole 161 A Breakfast at the Continental Hotel, Philadelphia 163 How to make an Acquaintance 166 Begging Letters 168 Sothern as remembered by a Veteran Actress 170 Spiritual Experiences 175 Good Deeds 180 Rescuing a Runaway 180 Only an Actor 183 Laura Keene 183 Sothern and his Fishing Boots 185 The Quebec Sportsman 188 A Phrenological Seance 193 Appearances are often Deceitful 310 How my " Lord Dundreary " was caught Napping by the ' ' Member from Cohosh " 311 Fun in France.. . 214 x TABLE OF CONTENTS. PACK Dundreary in Paris 216 A Desperate American 217 The Dundreary Letter 220 Conversational Quickness 221 Sothern and the Fire Test 225 A Reportorial Interview on the Same Subject 230 The Dying Actress 236 The Late George Holland 238 The Baron of Birmingham 242 Farewell Speech and Benefit in New York 247 INTRODUCTION. EDWARD ASKEW SOTHEKN, the great actor, numbers his friends and admirers by thousands, on both sides of the Atlantic. As the author of those wondrous creations of Dundreary, Brother Sam, " The Crushed Tragedian," and other characters, marked by genius and intense individuality, he has, the editor believes, added another boon to the public by making this book possible. Although its contents were gleaned, from time to time, in conversations with the eminent artist and his friends, they cannot convey the genial glow of his own happy words, the sparkle of his merry laughter, or the subtle mimicry which makes Sothern as a story-teller justly famous on two conti- nents. Novertheless, it is to be hoped that the bubble and flavor of his narratives are herein more or less retained, and that the reader will be refreshed by the frolicsome experiences of such a frank and sunny nature. A few words may be pardoned here in regard to the artistic work of Mr. Sothern. Coming into the notice of play-goers at a period when the best talent and [ri] xii INTRODUCTION. genius of the century were represented on the dram- atic stage, he achieved a success which was indeed phenomenal, in Dundreary ; but the apparent spon- taneity of the ludicrous character was the result of patient enduring toil, of intelligent study and happy intuition. He it was who rounded the slender outlines of the silly lord until they became a living possibility. With patient elaboration, touch by touch, with the skill of a consummate artist, true to his art, the work was completed harmoniously perfect in ges- ture, graceful in movement, and is a lasting testimony of the author's skill, judgment and genius. That Mr. Sothern's mind is original and inventive his later work eminently shows. In " David Garrick," that production abounding in delicate tints and shades, yet so full of striking contrasts of color, where every gradation of comedy is portrayed, and the delineation of a many-sided character marvelously rendered, is to be found a striking example of these qualities. Great, however, as is the character of Garrick in Mr. Soth- ern's hands, his Fitz Altamont, in the " Crushed Trage- dian," marked one of the greatest achievements in his career, in the entire obliteration of what was called his individuality in all of his old characters, and de- termined his ability as an author, no less than his ver- satility as an actor. He is always remarkable for correct instinct in matters pertaining to his art, and never hesitates to cut himself loose from stage tradi- tions, whenever they conflict with his judgment or refined taste. If a word of excuse is needed for this apparent re- capitulation of some of Mr. Sothern's triumphs, it is in the fact that to write about him at all seems impossi- INTRODUCTION. xiii ble, without connecting him with the works which have made him celebrated. The glimpses of the many- sided nature of the man to be found in the pages of this book, the undertone of refinement, the quiet philosophy, the boyish humor, the gentle heart over- flowing with charity, will be to many persons, perhaps, a picture more captivating even than Dundreary, David Garrick, the Crushed Tragedian, or Sydney Spoonbill, on the mimic stage. It should be stated in conclusion that whatever responsibility may attach to the subject-matter of the volume belongs solely to the undersigned. The reminiscences are given with much the same freedom as were the original off-hand conversations out of which the book has grown, and the author here makes his acknowledgments to Mr. Sothern for the courtesy which, even though reluctantly shown, permitted this publication. THE EDITOR. 'BIRDS OF A FEATHER FLOCK TOGETHER." EDWARD A. SOTHERN. IT is not a matter of wonder that Sothern is spoken of as " a prince of good fellows." He is magnetic in manner, humorous in speech, rich in reminiscence, responsive and sympathetic, a good listener, an equally good talker, and always sparkling like a newly-opened bottle of champagne. With such a battery of social forces, added to ability of a high order in the rep- resentation of the peculiar characters with which his name is now identified on both sides of the Atlantic, professional success has been a legitimate result. In person Mr. Sothern is probably five feet ten inches in height, and put together as if intended for hard work. He is wiry, elastic, as restless as a bundle of nerves under galvanic influence, and would be marked in any crowd as a man possessed of strong individuality and unusual personal characteristics. In age the actor [151 16 TALKS WITH, AND has been so well preserved that, like Tim Linkimvater, he might have been born one hundred and fifty years old and gradually come down to five and twenty, for he seems younger every birthday than he was the year before. In truth, however, he is fifty-one years of age, and milord chucklingly refers to the fact that, having come into the world on the first of April, "Dundreary" and his "Brother Sam" are naturally April fools. His face, undisturbed by a wrinkle or a line of trouble, and habitually quiet, is still lighted up under a mass of beautiful white hair by a pair of bright bluish-gray eyes, which look as if they were undergoing continual drill to keep them in proper subjection. It is a countenance full of expression now as imperturbable as if it were carved out of lignum vita3, a perfect dead wall, and again filled with a crowd of welcomes shining out of every smile. A long gray moustache hides the mouth, but fails to conceal the many little lights that hover around the corners, especially when the mental fireworks are let off, and one begins to feel as if he were an aurora borealis. Tidy in dress, with little or no display of jewelry, socially a Goldsmith Maid going at her level best, ingenuous, open and frank in the acknowledgment of a foible or an error, such is an off-hand pen portrait of Edward A. Sothern, the actor. As a conversationalist Mr. Sothern has few superiors, inasmuch as he combines in a rare degree memory, ABOUT SOT HERN. 17 imagination, humor, and a dramatic power of descrip- tion that invests with a charm whatever he may nar- rate. It is at the head of his own table, however, and in his own home, when surrounded by suggestive and sympathetic guests, that he is always to be heard to the best advantage. Under conditions of this char- acter, covering a series of weeks, most of the reminis- cences in the present volume have been seized upon and committed to paper. Justice to the narrator com- pels the remark that the incidents, as written, but faintly represent the vivacity of the originals, for it is not within the province of printed thought to portray the sparkle of the eye or the unctuousness of manner that marks the perfect telling of his stories. The parlors of Mr. Sothern at the Gramercy Park Hotel, in NCAV York, are familiar to hundreds of the most noted citizens of the country, and these have represented all of the professions, from the ballet dan- cer to the clergyman. Once within the suite, the in- vited guest is expected to be thoroughly at home ; if a musician, to exercise to his heart's content upon the grand piano ; if an artist, to enjoy the works of art that abound ; and if a ban vivant, to make merry with the spacious sideboard. In every sense, the hospital- ity is refined, and the generosity unrestrained. It was only a few days prior to the beginning of these pages, that a number of gentlemen being assembled here, one of them asked Mr. Sotheru if he had any 1 8 TALKS WITH, AND objection to relate some of the circumstances con- nected with his early career and subsequent success. " None whatever, only," turning to a collection of photographs on. the mantle-piece, and picking up three or four, he replied, " it's a long, long story; for a mar with a twenty-year-old lad like that, who is already on the stage, another like this, who is a student in an English college of art, and a girl of twelve, scarcely knows where to begin to recite his memories. Fill your glasses, however, and listen. THE ACTOR'S EARLY LIFE. " I was educated for some years by a private tutor, with the queer name of Dr. Redhead, the rector of an English church, it being understood that I should be- come a surgeon. I attended all the operations for a couple of years in the Middlesex Hospital, London, but the disgusting scenes of the dissecting room so sickened me that I abandoned the work. After that I studied theology for two or three years, and theologi- cal books are even to-day my favorite reading. "With- out going too deeply into the matter, I may say that my investigations in this direction and many contro- versies with clergymen threw a wet blanket on my am- bition to represent the church militant, and determ- ined the bent of my mind in another direction. It was not long before I commenced the study of the ABOUT SOTHERN. 19 old dramas, and as an amateur appeared at the The- atre Royal, Island of Jersey, in the character of Othello, on the occas: m of a benefit. Although it was an extremely bad performance on my part, the man- ager offered me an engagement at a salary of thirty- five shillings a week. I indignantly refused it, and the consequence was that a little while afterward, I was obliged to accept a salary of fifteen shillings a week. I was then about twenty-one years of age. On my arrival at the theatre, in Guernsey, where I had been engaged, I found the play of ' Hamlet ' an- nounced for the first night, and that I was cast for Laertes, the Ghost, and the Second Actor. Jupiter ! how staggered I was at that ! I had a memorandum stuck on the wings to tell me when to make my changes. Some practical joker took the memorandum down, and the consequence was, that relying on my memory I was continually bounding on the stage in the wrong character. Oh, the agony of that night ! Fancy the Ghost going on to act as Laertes ! I was immediately dismissed for incapacity. In fact, that entire portion of my professional career was marked by frequent dis- missals for incapacity. A REMINISCENCE OF CHARLES KEAK " A few months after this I was playing at Wey- mouth, England. The 'Scotch Greys' were quartered 20 TALKS WITH, AND at Dorchester, a few miles distant, and Charles Kean was on a visit to some of the officers. A friend of mine persuaded Kean to come and see me play * Claude Melnotte ' and ' Used Up.' The next morn- ing I received a letter from Kean, which, by the way, I have now, saying that he heard I was a novice, and strongly advising me to adopt the stage as a profession. He also kindly pointed out my many faults, but soothed me with the remark that I had great origin- ality. A year after this, when acting in Portsmouth, I received another letter from Mr. Kean, asking if it would be convenient for me to play the same charac- ter in which he had seen me, adding that he would send a friend to give his judgment concerning my progress and improvement. Unfortunately, however, I lost the opportunity. From Portsmouth I went to Wolverhampton and Birmingham, my highest salary being thirty-five shillings a week, for which I played Romeos, Mercutios, and all the juvenile and light comedy business. I then had a season of broad low comedy parts. After this Mr. Lacy, the dram- atic publisher of London, made me an offer of $25 a week to go to Boston, where I opened in Dr. Pangloss and a low farce called ' John Dobbs.' My failure in Pangloss was complete, although the audi- ence were kind enough, because I was a stranger, to call me before the curtain and so give me encour- agement. The papers cut me up mercilessly and ABOUT SOTHERN. 21 unanimously, but I had just enough common sense to know that their remarks were strictly true. I was again dismissed for incapacity. I then went to the Howard Athenaeum to play juvenile parts, at a reduced salary. They dismissed me again for inca- pacity. FIRST EXPERIENCE IN NEW YORK. " Discovering that Boston was not exactly the field for success, I came to New York, and applied to Mr. Barnum, who was then running his Museum where the Herald building now stands ; told him in a straightforward manner all that had occurred, and asked him to give me an opportunity of playing twice a day. I felt that all I wanted was constant practice and experience. He engaged me at a sal- ary of $20 a week, and a little while afterwards raised it to $25. I did play twice a day, and on Thanksgiving Day six times ; but it did me an enormous deal of good. After that Mr. Marshall, of the Broadway, engaged me for $40 a week, to play here and at the National Theatre, Washington. I mention these details only to show you what we of the old school had to undergo in order to achieve suc- cess. The very fact that we were obliged to play so many parts created a repose which, it seems to me, few of our modern actors possess. After this I went to 22 TALKS WITH, AND Baltimore under the management of Laura Keene, at a salary of $50 a week, and from there transferred my allegiance to Mr. Wallack, with whom I remained four years. During this time I was waiting for an opportunity, and in every piece produced I always studied such parts as Lester Wallack and Charles Walcott were cast for, and prepared myself at any moment to take their places. My stars ! how I used to work in those days ; often until three and four o'clock in the morning, and four or five hours a day when there was no rehearsal. The long looked for occasion, however, never occurred until ?.fiss Matilda Heron's engagement to play Camille. Every one pre- dicted that she would make a fiasco. Three tl;iys before its production Mr. Wallack asked me if I could study the part of Armand Duval in time. To his amazement I informed him that I was already ' up ' in it, and I went to t-he rehearsal the next morning. Miss Heron's success was pronounced, and for the first time in my life I received several enthusiastic ' calls.' This was my first upward move to that position in the profession to which I had aspired for years. It was only a week or two before this that I had made up my mind to return to England and seek some other em- ployment. Leaving Wallack's I went to Laura Kcene's Theatre, in this city, now known as the Olympic. ABOUT SOT HERN. 23 LORD DUNDREARY. "Here was produced for the first time the piece known as the ' American Cousin,' by Tom Taylor. I was cast for the part of Lord Dundreary, a fourth-rate old man, with only forty-seven lines to speak. I re- fused the part at first, but finally agreed with Mr. Burnett, the stage manager, to play on the condition that I should entirely rewrite it. Miss Keene was also full of objections, which however she finally yielded. In rewriting the part I threw into it everything that struck me as wildly absurd. There is not a single look, word or act in Lord Dundreary that has not been suggested to me by people whom I have known since I was five years of age. It has been said that I have cut the piece down for the purpose of Dundrearyizing the performance. This is not true. I have simply cut out the bad cellar scene, a drunken act, which would not now be popular, and so rearranged the play that instead of seventeen scenes, which it had when it came from the hands of Tom Taylor, it is in four acts of one scene each. " My part the first night was by no means a pro- nounced success. In fact, it was two or three weeks before the people began to understand what I was about. I had acted so many serious parts before that the public evidently considered that every tone of my 24 TALKS WITH, AND voice ought be pathetic, just as they now seem to think that every tone represents some mad eccentri city." THE DUNDREARY HOP. " How," asked one of the guests, " did you happer to hit on that strange hop, skip and jump business, which has been made so effective in your delineation of the character?" " Why," said Mr. Sothern laughingly, " it was the simplest thing in the world; it was a mere accident. I have naturally an elastic disposition, and during a rehearsal one cold morning I was hopping at the back of the stage when Miss Keene sarcastically inquired if I was going to introduce that in Dundreary. The actors and actresses standing around laughed, and taking the cue, I replied, ' Yes, Miss Keene, that's my view of the character.' Having said this, I was bound to stick to it, and as I progressed with the rehearsal, I found that the whole company, including scene shifters and property men, were roaring with laughter at my infernal nonsense. When I saw that the public ac- cepted the satire I toned it down to the broad caricature which may be seen at the present day by any one who has a quick sense of the absurd. BIRDS OP A FEATHER " You remember that in one act I have a byplay on ABOUT SOTHERN. 27 my fingers, on which I count from one to ten, and then reversing, begin with the right thumb and count ten, nine, eight, seven, six and five are eleven. This has frequently been denounced by critics as utterly out of place in the character, but I took the incident from actual life, having seen a notoriously clever man on the English turf as quick as lightning in calculating odds completely puzzled by this ridiculous problem. My distortion of the old aphorisms has likewise been frequently cavilled at as too nonsensical for an educated man. Now see how easily this thought was suggested. A number of us some years ago were taking supper in Halifax after a performance, when a gentleman who has now retired from the stage, but who is living in New York, suddenly entered the room and said, ' Oh, yes, I see ; birds of a feather, &c.' The thought instantly struck me on the weak side, and, winking at my brother actors and assuming utter ignorance, I said, ' What do you mean by birds of a feather?' He looked rather staggered and replied, 'What, have you never heard of the old English proverb, " Birds of a feather flock together " ?' Eveiy one shook his head. He then said: ' I never met such a lot of ignoramuses in my life.' That was my cue, and I began to turn the proverb inside out. I said to him, ' There never could have been such a proverb birds of a feather ! the idea of a whole flock of birds only having one feather ! The thing is utterly 28 TALKS WITH, AND ridiculous. Besides, the poor bird that had that feather must have flown on one side; consequently as the other birds couldn't fly at all, they couldn't flock together. But even accepting the absurdity, if they flocked at all they must flock together, as no bird could possibly be such a damned fool as to go into a corner and try and flock by himself.' Our visitor began to see the point of the logic, and was greeted with roars of laughter. I made a memorandum of the incident, and years afterward elaborated the idea in writing Dundreary. I have quires upon quires of memoranda of a similar character ; but whenever I play the part the public seem so disappointed at not hearing the old lines that I fear I shall never have the opportunity of getting them to accept what would really be a much better version. A NEW DUNDREARY. "I have hit upon a plan, however, which I think may make this a safe experiment. I have now in hand a three-act farcical comedy, entitled ' The Founder of the Family,' in which I shall play the father of Dun- dreary and Brother Sam. Of course I have taken the character from myself, and from the fact that I am an exceedingly nervous man and thoroughly imbued with the characteristics of the original Dundreary, I shall be able to make it one of the most ridiculous of ABOUT SOTHERN. 29 absent-minded and eccentric creations on the stage. In London the success of Dundreary was immediate, the character striking the humorous side of the people. As a proof of the truth of the satire the Theatre Royal, Haymarket, was crowded for 496 nights with the aristocracy of England. During this period I found my type of ' Brother Sam.' He was a man with only 400 a year, who mixed in the very highest circles of society. There was not a blemish on his name, and yet, strangely enough, he lived at the rate of 5,000 or 6,000 a year. Of course I added to his peculiarities others which I saw in scores of people there. ' Brother Sam ' was received at the same theatre with enthusiasm. "DAVID GARRICK." "Previous to this, however, I had determined to follow Dundreary with ' David Garrick,' as Thackeray and John Leech, both dear old friends of mine, strongly endeavored to impress upon me the fact that it was utterly impossible to make a great success with my second impersonation. Buckstone, the manager, did his utmost also to prevent my playing 'David Garrick,' believing that I could not depict pathos ; he did not know the school through which I had passed in America. The critics cut me up root and branch, but ' Garrick ' grew nightly in attractiveness and became a 30 TALKS WITH, AND success. It was not owing to my performance, how- ever. The piece was saved by the exquisite acting of Miss Nellie Moore, who is now dead. She played the part of Ada. Neither the public nor the press were pre- pared for the dangerous jump I made from Dundreary to Garrick. They evidently waited for the fun-making points, and I had to compromise by rewriting the second act of ' Garrick,' which, you will remember, is the drunken scene, in order to secure the humorous effect. During the last fourteen years I have played it much more frequently than Dundreary, both in England and America. It may seem egotistical to say so, but John Oxenford, the famous London critic, who is now dead, in an article in the Saturday Review, was kind enough to write that I ought also to be called the author as well as the creator of 'Brother Sam.' I like- wise wrote the love scene in ' Home.' " THE AUTHORSHIP OF "HOME" AND "DAVID GARRICK." In this connection it may be interesting to the reader to peruse the following letter, inasmuch as it will re- move any doubt concerning Mr. Sothern's share in the authorship both of "Home" and of "David Garrick": PARK THEATRE, NEW YORK, Nov. 2, 1877. To the Editor of the Herald: Having been interviewed by a Herald reporter some ABOUT SOTHERN. 31 weeks ago I casually mentioned that I had written the "love scene" in Tom Robertson's comedy entitled " Home." The interview was copied by the London Era and elicited the following somewhat offensive reply from Mr. T. W. S. Robertson, the late Tom Robertson's son : To the Editor of the Era (London) : SIR In Mr. Sothern's word of mouth biography of himself, which appeared in last week's edition of the Era, he states that he wrote the love scene in " Home " at the request of Mr. Tom Robertson. To this asser- tion I beg to give the most unqualified denial. Is it likely that Mr. Tom Robertson would have allowed any man to write the " love scene," of all scenes, in a piece of his? Mr. Sothern's imagination has been known to carry him away at times, and in this case considerably. It would not be just to my father's memory to allow Mr. Sothern's remark to pass un- noticed. All that he can claim for his own, as regards " Home," is an unlimited and unnecessary number of "gags." Apologizing for troubling you, I am, yours truly, T. W. S. ROBERTSON. Standard Theatre, Bishopsgate, Wednesday, Oct. 2, 1877. In response to the foregoing remarkable letter I have only to add that my original statement is em- phatically true. Mr. Robertson never was satisfied 32 TALKS WITH, AND with his version of " Home," and on several occasions appealed to me to make such alterations and improve- ments as might be suggested. I did so, and the " love scene," in the second act, with the exception of a few lines, is the result. That it likewise proved a success is attested by the commendation which it has every- where received when played. The part that I act in " Home " requires no " gags," and would not admit of them. Hence the reference to the term by Mr. T. "W. S. Robertson is uncalled for and offensive. I have too large an admiration for the memory of the dead author to say a word that could be construed as a re- flection on his memory, but justice to myself requires that I should contradict the mis-statements and correct the ignorance of his son. The following unsolicited note from my friend, Mr. Lester Wallack, will doubt- less set the matter at rest : WALLACK'S THEATRE, October 29, 1877. Mr DEAR SOTHERX Permit me to bear testimony to the truth of your statement with regard to the late Tom Robertson's play of " Home." The " love scene " in the second act was conceived and written by you. This Mr. Robertson told me himself. And when you so kindly gave me the printed book of the comedy your scene was inserted in MS., and a capital scene it is. Always yours truly, LESTER WALLACK. ABOUT SOT HERN. 33 I have only to add that Mr. Tom Robertson not un- frequently fell short of his own ideal in his work, His play of " David Garrick," as can be proved by Mr. J. B. Buckstone, the manager of the Theatre Royal, Haymarket, London, was literally unsuitable for rep- resentation until he and I rewrote a considerable part of it, and even now I am from time to time engaged in making further improvement. The manner of Mr. T. W. S. Robertson in addressing the public demands explanation, and until it is made he cannot worthily wear the title of a gentleman. I am, sir, yours obedi- ently, E. A. SOTHEKN. HISTORY OF " DAVID GARRICK " The host being further questioned concerning the history of the play of " David Garrick," and the man- ner in which it came to be put upon the stage, Mr. Sothern replied : " ' David Garrick ' was translated from a German piece called 'Doctor Garrick' by Tom Robertson. It was adapted by two French dramatists, one of whom made a three-act comedy, and the other a one-act farce. The translation by Robertson was a very rough one, and he sold it to Mr. Lacy, the dramatic publisher, for 10. Lacy subsequently endeavored to dispose of the manuscript, but it was rejected by all the man- agers in London. No one would touch it, and he kept 34 TALKS WITH, AND ' David Garrick ' in his drawer for eight years. It was during this period that I became acquainted with Robertson and formed a close and intimate friendship which endured until the poor fellow's death. He told me that if I would play a piece of his, it would be the beginning of his fortune, and day after day we sat together contriving and discussing plots. The result was the production of * Society,' which was eventually performed at the Prince of Wales' Theatre. Before this, however, I had read it to Buckstone, the manager of the Haymarket, who came to the conclu- sion that my part was not strong enough to make a success. Acting on his advice I reluctantly returned the manuscript to Robertson. It was then that he found a purchaser in Miss Marie Wilton now Mrs. Bancroft who, as every one knows, played it with great success at the Prince of Wales'. Mr. Bancroft, who played the part which was intended for me, cer- tainly made more of it than I could possibly have done. Robertson felt quite low-spirited over the rejection of the play by Buckstone, notwithstanding my constant endeavor to give him encouragement. " In the course of a conversation one day he men- tioned incidentally that many years ago he had trans- lated a German comedy entitled ' Doctor Davy,' and re- cited the plot to me. It was so slight and thread-like, however, that an ordinary page of note paper would have sufficed to describe the whole thing. Notwith- ABOUT SOTHERN. 35 standing this, I was struck by the simplicity of the story, and saw at a glance that it contained the elements of success in permitting a certain kind of character acting which I believed could be made attractive by reason of its novelty. When the piece was read to Buckstone, he at first refused to have anything to do with it, but I finally persuaded him to put it on the stage. Rehearsal after rehearsal took place, a vast amount of alteration was made and, by-the-by, Buckstone never omits to give me credit for re-writing as I mentioned before nearly the whole of the second act and when it was finally pro- duced under the name of ' David Garrick,' it met with a reception as flattering as the success was unequivocal. That's the history of ' David Garrick.' THE "CRUSHED TRAGEDIAN." " In my judgment, however, ' The Crushed Trage- dian,' my latest and newest part, if not the best in my repertoire, is likely to command popular favor at once wherever performed, and to retain its hold upon the stage for many years. It is replete with pathos and yet gives the leading actor an opportunity for very strong character representation. It was originally produced in London under the title of the ' Prompter's Box,' the part of the prompter being personated by Benjamin Webster. As I was acting at the Haymarket 36 TALKS WITH, AND Theatre at the time, I could not see the piece per- formed. Mr. Byron is the author. Afterwards, when in Philadelphia, a friend of mine asked me why I had never played Fitz Altamont, and informed me of the points of the part. I telegraphed to Byron for a copy, read it carefully and came to the conclusion that it could be so elaborated as to exactly fit my style. It appeared that if I could good-naturedly satirize the old school of acting, contrasting it through the several characters, with the present school, I should arrive at the same effects in another manner which were produced in Dundreary ; that is to say, that though stigmatized by everybody as a very bad tragedian, I should gain the sympathy of the audience in the satire, however much they might laugh at my peculiarities. The char- acter is not an imitation of any actor I ever have seen. I have simply boiled down all the old school tragedians as I boiled down all the fops I had met before I played Dundreary. I tested the piece in Philadelphia and its success was immediate. Still I am attached to my first love, Dundreary, and from time to time during my professional career shall continue to present him to the public." A CRITICISM OF THE "CRUSHED." The following criticism is from the Philadelphia Inquirer (January, 1878), and is not more graceful than it is just : ABOUT SOTHERN. 37 "MB. SOTHERX IN 'THE CRUSHED TRAGEDIAX.' " Mr. Sothern's impersonation of Fitz Altamont, the Crushed tragedian, is the more impressive the oftener it is seen, and the more attentively it is studied. To fully appreciate its surpassing merits as a dramatic realization, it is necessary to do something more than look and laugh. It is only when we have seen Mr. Sothern's performances so often that we can forego the enjoyment of the playgoer, to watch with the eyes of a student, that the artistic power of the creation is revealed. Then, and not till then, do we begin to understand what a creation his Fitz Altamont really is. "Much has been said of the wonderful versatility of the actor who could, from Dundreary, transform himself with such magical completeness into that utter antithesis of the English fop, the sombre, misanthropic, theatrical Altamout ; but this versatility, note- worthy as it is, is one of the least remarkable char- acteristics of the impersonation. Mr. Sothern's im- personation shows in a greater degree, perhaps, than anything he has ever done before ; but the greatest merit of his Fitz Altamont lies in this : out of a mere thing of shreds and patches, out of a stage tradition, a conventional laughing stock, a popular butt, he has created a living, sentient human being. Into the dry bones of a common caricature he has breathed vitality. 38 TALKS WITH, AND "For it is just as impossible not to recognize in the 'crushed' a fellow being, having the same feelings and affections as ourselves, as it is not to laugh at the strange eccentricities which distinguish him. ' Fitz ' is human to begin with, and so commands our sym- pathies. He is also in dead earnest. He believes in his own powers with all his might and main. His vanity is equal to that which consumed the heart of Malvolio, and his vanity impels him as it impelled the cross-gartered steward, to believe anything of himself and his capacities. From some reason or other Fitz Altamont has taken up the idea that he is a tragic genius, and he believes that with all his heart and soul. When he announces himself as being crushed it is with the utmost sincerity. The spec- tator knows better. He knows that his vanity is Al- tamont's sole stock in trade, and thus the character becomes laughter-provoking. " And how laughable it is, only those who have seen Mr. Sothern play it can form an idea. With what elaboration of detail does the actor embody his con- ception ! There is not a gesture, not an intonation, not a movement, but seems to illustrate the character portrayed. He strides across the stage, and it is as though he were wading through a sea of gore ; he mutters to himself, 'Ha! ha!' and you know that lie is cursing fate with a bitterness loud and deep ; he scowls, and it is plain that he thinks his frown is as ABOUT SOTHERN. 39 majestic as Olympian Jove himself ; he flings himself in a chair as though wearied with such a continual battling with destiny ; he leans, in contemplation, against the mantel-piece, and it is manifest that he is philosophically pondering, a la 'Hamlet,' upon the vanity of the world and its lack of appreciation for genius, and always and in all things poor Altamont is exquisitely, indescribably ludicrous. " But whatever he says or does, no faintest suspicion that he is making himself ridiculous ever crosses his mind. He is without the least scintilla of humor, and, acting as he is all the time, he is all the time in deadly earnest. It is the world that is out of joint, not he. Mr. Sothern's impersonation of ' De Lacy Fitz Alta- mont ' is no less an acquisition to the dramatic world than a triumph of the actor's talent. " THE "HORNET'S NEST." " How do you account for the fact, " inquired a gen- tleman, " that a play so brim full of wit as your ' Hor- net's Nest ' is comparatively a failure, after such a successful representation as that of the 'Crushed Tragedian ?' " "From my point of judgment, it is not a failure. Much of the success of an English play is due to na- tional temperament. The humor that affects an Eng- lish audience is to a certain extent unlike that which 40 TALKS WITH, AND influences an American audience. What produces loud laughter in one country, merely creates a ripple of merriment in the other, and vice versa. I have noticed that nearly all of the critics on the American press have bestowed generous praise on the ' Hornet's Nest,' and especially on my part of Sydney Spoonbill, while the audiences have sometimes been cold. Had the same piece been produced in London, it would have been received with screams of laughter from beginning to end. My own impression is, that its chief fault consists in its lack of serious interest, for American audiences insist on backbone to a play. Mr. AY. S. Gilbert's pieces, which are exquisitely written, and replete with the finest wit and satire, according to English notions, have rarely been suc- cessful in America, that is to say, among the masses. By the critics, and the highly educated few, however, their talent and originality are invariably commended. The same remark may be made with reference to Henry J. Byron's burlesques, although many of his dramas have been eminently successful. "I am frequently asked why I don't play more parts in my old line of business, what might be called ' the romantic juvenile parts.' My answer is, that I am now fully convinced that in order to keep my hold on the public, I must for the future devote myself to strong, original characterizations." ABOUT SOTHERN. 43 A CRITICISM OF THE "HORNET'S NEST." " Perhaps," said Mr. Sothern, turning to a portfolio, " this criticism by ' Trinculo ' which I found in the New York Spirit of the Times will convey a good idea of the ' Hornet's Nest,' and the manner in which it strikes an intelligent mind. The writer says : "The 'Hornet's Nest' proved to be one of Mr. Sothern's jokes. Perhaps I should say a thousand and one of his jokes. " Everybody screamed at it, and then said it was thin. I believe everybody went back the next night and screamed again. " Sydney Spoonbill, the hero of this absurdity, is no other person than our estimable friend, Mr. Sothern, himself, who smokes several good cigars, and keeps up a running commentary of wit and humor. " If the paragraphers' club were to write a play, I think it would be like the ' Hornet's Nest.' " ' Crackling Thorns ' would have been a better title for it. " Such acting as it gives occasion for is exquisitely done. Mr. Sothern seems to have said, ' I will show you how fine it is for a player not to act at all. I will be perfectly natural, and never resort to a stage trick, and you shall see me walk up and down in an easy, ' nonchalant manner, saying all the funny things of 44 TALKS WITH, AND which the language is capable. You shall roar with the nonsense of it, and be tickled to death.' " But pure, unadulterated fun for two hours and a half won't do. There must be a serious spot in it. Even a negro minstrel, who is the maddest wag alive in real life, has to black up, and have his serious moments. " People don't like nature half as well as they do art. They don't want the real thing so heartily as they want the sham thing. A newspaper that is all paragraphs, and never an obituary or an outrage, is a dreadful affair. " There is a popular notion that people go to the theatre now-a-days to be amused, I used to think so myself. But I've got over it. I think now that nine- tenths of them go to the play-house to have their feel- ings outraged ; and if the playwright or the actor doesn't outrage them, they feel like the prude who hasn't been insulted by anybody. " The ' Hornet's Nest ' is in reality a mare's nest. It makes you search a good while, without finding any- thing. Mr. Sothern's hornets are jokes. They buzz all through it. Nobody can make such an idiotic pun as he. He used to strangle us with them when he played Dundreary : now he lets loose the whole swarm. " By his jokes you may know him anywhere. Be- sides, he has got one of his love scenes in it. Who wrote that episode in the last act, where one lover sits on the edge of the table, and deals his pas- ABOUT SOTHERN. 45 sion out in mots, and swings his leg, and turns the language inside out, to see if it has any fun in it ? And the other lovers sits in a chair, in a muslin dress, and looks sweet, and doesn't do anything else except laugh at the insane brilliancy of the fellow who is pulling her hand about. ." I wonder if that is the way people make love now- a-days. And if all the amorous passion of our natures can expend itself in gags, if we are self-possessed and well trained ! " Sothern is a pre-Raphaelite. Nobody can repro- duce nature in such minuteness as he, when he pleases. I call him a perfect artist. " But I don't think much of the ' Hornet's Nest,' except for an afterpiece." A LOVE STORY NECESSARY TO A SUCCESSFUL PLAY. " To what do you ascribe the success of your plays ?" "I don't believe that either 'Dundreary' or the 'Crushed Tragedian' would have met with the extra- ordinary success which has attended their presenta- tion in America, if it were not for the pretty love story that runs through both pieces like a kind of golden thread. Besides, Dundreary and Fitz Al'a- mont, in spite of their strong peculiarities, are thorough gentlemen at heart. For the future I shall devote my- 46 TALKS WITH, AND self to what maybe called ' Robsoni an' parts those which give me latitude for original conception. Of course this determination involves an immense amount of thought and work. I can master any light comedy or juvenile part in 48 hours, so far as the language is concerned ; but in the creation of a character, every look, tone, motive, that suggests or shades an individ- uality must be the subject of patient practice. The mere inflection of a voice will often make a difference with an appreciative audience, and the very cues have frequently to be delivered in a way which it is impos- sible to illustrate except by repeated rehearsals. W. S. GILBERT, THE DRAMATIC AUTHOR. " By the way, I referred a moment ago to W. S. Gilbert, the dramatic writer, who I look upon not only as one of the shining lights of modern dramatic liter- ature, but an excellent, generous and high-toned gen- tleman. As an illustration of the kindness of his heart, about a year ago I made a proposition to him to write a comedy for me, which he agreed to do for the sum of two thousand guineas, to be paid on the deliv- ery of the manuscript. I particularly requested him not to make an individual part for me inasmuch as I wished to select it myself. The play, when finished, was a beautiful composition, but after many weeks of thought and reading I came to the conclusion that the ABOUT SOTHERN. 47 character of an old man which Mr. Gilbert had cre- ated evidently for my own personation was not suited to my style and methods. In fact, he had made what might be called a ' part piece,' and I wrote to him to that effect. He replied in the most unselfish spirit, ex- pressing his regrets that I had not been suited and offering to take back the play. I speak of this circum- stance because it is an exceptional instance of large- heartedness on the part of one who might legally and reasonably have enforced his contract. It was an ex- quisite production, but practically too far in advance of the demands of the present time. I have a number of similar pieces that are almost open to the same criticism. What the people seem to require, at this moment, is not so much elegance of composition in which the real genius of the poet and the play- wright is represented, as strong and exciting situations and characterizations." HENRY J. BYRON. "I infer from what you have said that you also greatly admire Henry J. Byron, the dramatic author." "I do," answered Mr. Sothern, "and so will any- one who understands the character of the man, and appreciates his extraordinary facility for punning, twisting words inside out, and producing the wittiest of effects. One, however, frequently, must read his 48 TALKS WITH, AND burlesques before seeing them, in order to understand the nice shading which he employs in his word paint- ing. As regards his plays when put upon the stage, not one company in a hundred can give the necessary point to Byron's witticisms without seeming to force them. I know him well, and never have met a gentleman in all my travels who more completely cor- ruscated with brilliant thoughts and repartee. A stenographer could almost write an admirable bur- lesque by taking down what Byron says at his own dinner table, because his humor is thrown off so easily and naturally. "Wit with him is spontaneous, and when in the mood every sentence is an epigram. It is a prevailing impression that Byron writes too rapidly, but to my certain knowledge he frequently does not take a pen in hand for weeks at a time. I have often seen him after a chatty dinner go to his desk and make a half-dozen memoranda. During that time he has probably evolved the skeleton of a play. He never commences a drama wondering how he is going to finish it ; the frame work is all clear before he puts pen to paper. The beginning and end of every act is definitely settled ; as to the dialogue, that comes to him more rapidly than he can scribble. I once asked him why he didn't use a short-hand reporter. He re- plied that the scratching of his quill on the paper was like music to him. Another thing : he scarcely ever is guilty of an erasure, and when he has once ABOUT SOT HERN. 49 written a piece he has the strongest possible objection to alterations. He rarely goes to see a first night's performance of his own work, and a play once pro- duced seems to lose all interest in his mind, doubtless because it is so quickly succeeded by the plot of the next which you maybe sure he will speedily write. In social life Byron is extremely domesticated and is rarely seen in public. I should say that he has not more than two or three friends in the world whom he regards as intimate associates. In fact his life is all work, but such pleasant work to him that it never becomes tiresome or monotonous. BYRON'S WIT. " I spoke about his quickness of wit and repartee. An incident or two will illustrate it. " The celebrated Poole of Burlington street was Byron's tailor for a number of years. Now Byron was always a well dressed man, though quiet in his style, but from some cause or another was continually abusing Poole because, as he said : ' he can't fit me at all.' The real reason was that he would never try his clothes on. One day while Byron was at the Garrick Club, some one came in and exclaimed : 'By Jove ! Have you heard the news ? Poole the tailor is dead !' ' Dead ! the Devil he is,' remarked one of the com- 3 5 o TALKS WITH, AND pany present. ' What did he die of ?' ' He died of a fit.' Byron's immediate rejoinder was, ' I'll wager a sovereign that he died of a misfit.' 1 " One of Byron's pleasant traits is that, pungent as his wit may be, he rarely, if ever, permits himself to hurt the feelings of another, always prefering to sacrifice the point of a brilliant thought if likely to injure the tender susceptibilities of a friend. It is so easy," said Mr. Sothern, " to say disagreeable things, and yet so hard to be witty without them. Jerrold would make a pun at any cost, and nurse a satire for days and weeks to- gether until a favorable opportunity was presented for the impalement of some unhappy victim. One night at the Arundel Club in London, where a number of literary people were discussing the disposition to pun and play upon words, some one suggested Byron should be put to the test of instantly transforming any word that might be named, and giving it another meaning. Byron was evidently annoyed and rather tartly re- plied : ' Yes, any word that can be spoken in this company,' with a strong emphasis on this. The word mentioned was ' asaf oetida.' Byron as quick as lightning replied, ' Imagine a scene in a burlesque. The king's daughter has run away with some poor nobleman, but being found is dragged in by a jailer whom the king orders to take her to prison and place in irons. A servant enters soon afterwards, and the king addresses him thus : " Well, hireling, 'as he fettered her ?" ' The company with a groan agreed that they had lost the wager." ENGLISH ACTORS. " Who among the old English actors at present occupy relatively the same positions that are held by our popular favorites in New York ?" " Well, among the old men Mr. Chippendale is the professional twin, if I may use the expression, of Mr. John S. Gilbert, of Wallack's ; Mr. Compton compares with Mr. Harry Beckett, both representing the same peculiar dry humor. Mr. Toole, who was here two years, has his counterpart in Mr. W. J. Florence. Mr. Kendall would remind you of Mr. Lester Wallack. Mr. James, of the London Vaudeville Theatre, seems to me to stand alone. He is equally perfect in broad low comedy and domestic pathos. Mr. Howe, of the Hay market Theatre, also stands in the foremost rank, both in comedy and tragedy. Mr. Terry and Mr. Thorne, low comedians and character actors, are par- ticular favorites with the London public. Mr. Hare is a finished artist in old man parts. " Among the actresses, I should certainly place Mrs. Bancroft and Mrs. Kendall in the foremost rank, their specialties being high comedy. Mrs. Bancroft I con- sider the best actress on the English stage ; in fact I might say on any stage. She is probably thirty-eight 52 TALKS WITH, AND years of age. She commenced her profession as a burlesque actress, and was one of the best we have ever seen in England. When she took the Prince of Wales Theatre .she discarded the burlesque business, and, to the amazement of everyone, proved herself the finest comedy actress in London. Her face, though not essentially pretty, is a mass of intelligence. Her husband, Mr. Bancroft, is an admirable actor in certain parts Capt. Hawtree, for instance. He is the heavy swell of the English stage. Miss Ellen Terry, the sister of the celebrated Kate Terry, and Miss Hollings- head, are the ingenues in England. They are pretty, effective, and always handsomely received by their audiences. Miss Amy Roselle is another actress who is rapidly coming to the front by reason, first, of her beauty ; secondly, of her fine abilities. Miss Larkin resembles Mrs. Gilbert in her style of acting, and is about forty years of age. GUSTAVUS V. BROOKE AND CHARLES MATTHEWS. " By the way, there's a picture of poor Gustavus Brooke, who went down at sea so bravely years ago. His great trouble was that he too often disappointed his managers, and you know what that means. As an actor he was perfectly brilliant, arriving at his effects in a most original manner. He was the imitator of no one I have ever seen ; had a school of his own and ABOUT SOTHERN. 53 followed it regardless of criticism. In short he was a magnetic actor. " And look at that a picture of Charles Matthews, - an old friend of mine. He was, undoubtedly, the founder of the present school of light comedy, and when he dies I know of no man who will take his place. His force consists in his excessive well, I may call it his champagny airiness. Even at the present time, when he must be nearly seventy years old, he dashes on the stage with all the lightness and brilliancy of a lad of twenty. I never saw Charles Matthews at- tempt a serious part, and, in fact, there doesn't seem to be one pathetic tone in his voice. Still I am sure that he would play a pathetic scene in a perfectly natural manner. He don't kno.v what it is to have low spirits. "When imprisoned in Lancaster Castle for debt, with no probability of his being released for years, he was always as gay as a lark and occupied most of his time in painting water color sketches quite admirable in their character, the sale of which eventu- ally enabled him to effect his release. Its rather an odd thing, by-the-by, but some of us actors naturally take to the brush. Joe Jefferson paints well, so does John Brougham, and when at leisure I pass many pleas- ant hours in sketching scenes with which I am fam- iliar. 54 TALKS WITH, AND BUCKSTONE. " Among the famous English actors is Tom Baldwin Buckstone, who must now be about seventy-five years of age ; but old as he is he gets hold of his audience more rapidly than any one I know. A simple f good morning' from him seems to set the house in a roar His personal magnetism is simply wonderful. I always stipulate when I play at the Hayrnarket, London, that Buckstone shall appear in the same piece with me. He is like old William Warren, of Boston, a perennial favorite. He acts as if he had strings on all of his fingers attached to the audience in front, and plays with them and pulls them about just as he wants. I think he has been on the stage about fifty-five years. During my connection with him of nearly fourteen years there has never been a scrap of paper betwrc'ii us. He is emphatically a man of his word. His the- atre the Hayrnarket yields him a very handsome income from the production of light comedies and the appearance of stars like J. S. Clarke, Miss Neilson and others." x INCIDENTS OF THE STAGE. In response to a question by one of his guests con- cerning his experiences on the boards, Mr. Sothern ABOUT SOTHERN. 55 said : " I am glad you are inquisitive in that direction. I remember playing Dundreary one evening in London when the house was packed and there were thousands outside trying to get in. The police were obliged to line Haymarket on both sides in order to keep the car- riage way open. A countryman and his wife occupied two front seats in the upper circle. In the middle of one of my soliloquies the wife said loudly during a pause in which I expected a roar of laughter, ' Weel, Jamie, I can see now't in't.' To which Jamie replied in an equally loud tone, ' TVeel, domb'd ef I can ; come along, Sally.' The house fairly screamed at the remark, and at every interval some one would shout, 'Come along, Sally.' " On another evening a man sat in the pit perfectly stolid through the first two acts. Suddenly he began to gurgle you couldn't call it a laugh but the people laughed at him to such an extent that he interfered with the play. I whispered to the prompter to send a policeman to remove the man. When the officer reached the spot he found a corpse. The man had literally laughed himself into apoplexy. Strangely enough, on that same night and at about the same hour for we compared notes while Boucicault was playing the ' Colleen Bawn ' at the Adelphi Theatre, a woman, under the influence of deep emotion, gave birth to a child and died before she could be removed. In one case it was death resulting from ail excess of 56 TALKS WITH, AND humor, and in the other from the effect of strong pathos. This proves that comedy requires as much strength as its opposite in producing similar though diverse effects upon the imagination. In fact it is my belief that comedy requires even more intensity and magnetism than melodrama or tragedy, because in the one case the actor may find his effect created simply by the representation of a touching story, while in the other unless the performer by action fully illustrates the humor of an idea, the comedy fails to be appre- ciated and the magnetic power of his art is absent. AUDIENCES AND ACTORS. " What are your impressions concerning the plays of the present day and their effect ? " " That is rather a hard question to answer. Briefly, however, I think that we are passing through a period in which the people do not care for the higher order of plays and such bright thoughts as are to be found in the old comedies like ' School for Scandal,' &c. The modern audience seems to desire constant action, no matter how bad it may be, rather than sparkling dia- logue such as is written by Gilbert and Byron, and the consequence is that dramatist, manager and actor are forced to recognize the momentary wants of an eccen- tric public." ABOUT SOTHERN. 57 " To what do you think you principally owe your success on the stage ? " "Earnestness doing everything as well as I know how never acting on the impulse of the moment, and thoroughly understanding what I have to do. I owe much of my success to the elder Wallack and to Rachel. Wallack showed me the necessity of convey- ing at a I'ehearsal what you intend to do at night, and the importance of paying strict attention to the minutest detail. He was one of the most thorough stage managers I ever met. We were like a set of school-boys under discipline. We had to give a reason for everything, and therefore to study hard. With reference to Rachel, I left myself out of an engage- ment for six weeks, in order to see her play her cele- brated characters. There was a fascination about her acting that was almost painful. She had less action than any artist I have ever seen, but she was so in- tensely in earnest, and her passion was so overwhelm- ing, though subdued, that you lost yourself in won- derment. I learned from her, therefore, that one of the chief elements of whatever success I expected was earnestness, intensity, and thorough identification with every part in which I might be engaged. There is not an audience in the world which will not be quick to detect the sympathy between the actor and his play." 3* 58 TALKS WITH, AND TEMPERAMENT AS AN ELEMENT OF SUCCESS. " Don't you think, Mr. Sothern, that temperament has much to do with the success of actors and actresses ?" n in English was sent to him purporting to come from the girl's mother. The first contained an offer to adopt and give her a French education, together with a life long engagement on the French stage ; the latter informed him that the young girl was not ex- actly in her right mind, having had the small pox, and that if he engaged her he must take unusual care of her health, see that she retired early at night, and in short, be to her a fatherly protector. The Frenchman had this letter translated and was dumbfoundered. He at once sought an interview with the young lady on the stage, and a more laughable mixture of French and English misunderstanding, of odd explanations, and angry ejaculations, and gesticu- lations, you never witnessed. On the one hand he tried to make her comprehend that he had never 2i6 TALKS WITH, AND written a letter to her, and on the other she in- dignantly repelled the idea that her mother had done anything of the kind to him because the old lady was dead, and she herself never had the small pox. The complication was kept up for two or three days, when we got our agent to explain the joke to both parties. The girl, however, was so disgusted and so thoroughly taken down, that she shortly after left the company and never attempted to play an English ingenue part in France again. DUNDREARY IN PARIS. " I think," remarked Mr. Raymond, " that one of the most amusing incidents during our stay in Paris was that which occurred during the performance of Dun- dreary. You are, perhaps, aware that at the subsidy theatres in France, no fire, not even a lighted match is permitted on the stage. You will also recall the fact that in one part of the play, Asa Trenchard has to burn a will. In order to comply with the law and at the same time get rid of this document, I was com- pelled to tear the will instead of applying the match in the usual way. The result was that the part was not at all a success, much of its point being lost by the tameness of the incident. At last I said to Sothern, ' I have a great mind to burn the thing any- how and take the chances.' My misfortune was in ABOUT SOT HERN. 217 confiding my intention to Sothern, for he instantly gave instruction to one of the gendarmes who was hovering about the wings, to arrest me in the act. When the scene came on, anticipating no trouble, but expecting on the contrary to receive a recall as I always did at this juncture, I struck the match and lighted the paper. Before I knew anything else I was seized from behind by a big gendarme and car- ried bodily off the stage. Of course the audience did not know what was to pay, and I was equally in the dark. Not speaking French I could not make any ex- planation, and the more I struggled the tighter the gendarme held me in his grip. It was only when Mr. Sefton, the agent of Mr. Sothern, made his appearance and explained matters that I was released. You should have then seen how those two French soldiers went for Sothern, mad as hornets at being imposed upon, and the manner in which he disappeared down the back stairs into a convenient hiding place. For- tunately Sefton was enabled to appease the indigna- tion of the irate Frenchmen, and in a few minutes Dundreary was permitted to come out of his retire- ment, and the play went on happily without the dis- comfiture of the audience. A DESPERATE AMERICAN. " During this engagement we had a frightful fight one 10 2i8 TALKS WITH, AND night, and produced a corresponding scare among the members o'f the company. The celebrated bill-poster of Paris and London, Willing, by name, was in the green-room and made some remark as coming from Sothern concerning me which I purposely construed into a most grievous insult. Dashing impetuously into Sothera's dressing-room, which was just off the green-room, I demanded in a loud tone that could be heard by everybody, instant satisfaction or his life, whispering to Ned to keep up the joke. Always as quick as lightning to take a hint, he presently emerged, kicking me out of his apartment .into the centre of the now thoroughly alarmed people in the green-room. I rushed off to get a knife swearing ven- geance. Everybody appealed to me to be quiet and tried to hold me back, while I contended that nothing but his life's blood would wipe out the insult. Of course the play had to continue, but the actors were almost afraid to go on the stage, looking on me as a wild American who, with bowie knife in hand, was about to commit a horrible murder. Meanwhile Sothern had quietly sent a note telling me to slip into his dressing-room again, get some stage blood there, lock the door, and that as soon as he came off we would have a ' time.' I followed the instructions and after the act he came down and joined me. The peo- ple in the green-room were on the alert, and between Ned and myself we gave their listening ears the bene- ABOUT SOTHERN. 219 fit of a full chorus of moans, groans, imprecations, struggles, and other sounds of distress among which every now and then my knife could be heard sticking into some conveniently soft substance that sounded very like a human body. Willing, whose remarks had been the cause of all this commotion, frightened almost to death, rushed after the gendarmes. When the lat- ter came they demanded entrance in French. A low groan was the only response. Believing that one or both of us was nearly dead they burst open the door. Willing was the first man to rush in, and was followed by the soldiers and such of the company as were not on the stage. You can imagine their feelings when they saw Sothern and myself covered with blood lying upon the floor, with the gory knife near by, the entire apartment in confusion and bearing evidences of a desperate struggle. " ' Poor fellow,' said one, ' has he got a pulse ?' ' He must be dying,' was the remark of another. ' Go for some stretchers.' 'What awful fighters these Americans are ! ' ' Don't touch the blade !' and other similar expressions were also to be heard. " Willing, with a horror-stricken face, stooped over and felt of Sothern. Ned partially raised his head, and feebly whispered : ' A glass of champagne, quick.' The poor bill-poster didn't stop for a glass, but knocked off the neck of a bottle, and in his haste, to the great disgust of Dundreary, nearly choked him 220 TALKS WITH, AND to death as he poured it down. At this instant I lifted my head in the same way, and, in a faint kind of way, ejaculated ' Some wine, too !' Then we both rose up on our elbows and asked for more wine, and from that position to our feet, until finally, with a hearty laugh at the success of our joke, we invited the whole party to join us in a potation. The practical gendarmes ^ere the only ones who didn't see any fun in being * sold ' in this manner, although they took their share of the champagne, and I think that some of the English actors themselves, never, to this day, have learned to appreciate the pranks of the two Ameri- cans." THE DUNDREARY LETTER. On the occasion of one of the conversaziones at a pleasant dinner party, Mr. Raymond related the following incident connected with the Dundreary letter. He says : " It was written by Mr. Sothern in New Orleans while waiting for the cars, the first draft being hurried^ made on his knee on the back of an envelope. Sothern, however, was dubious with ref- erence to reading it for the first time in so large a city as New Orleans, and as we were going to Mobile, he determined to try the experiment there on the occasion of my benefit. He did so, and its success was instantaneous. He was recalled three times, and since ABOUT SOTHERN. 221 then the reading of the letter has been one of the chief features of the famous play." CONVERSATIONAL QUICKNESS. Mr. Horace Wall, the well known dramatic agent of New York, speaking of Sothern's conversational quickness and power of repartee, gives the following illustrations of the same : " One day while on Broadway Mr. Sothern met an old friend who was an inveterate tobacco chewer, and who, if the remark may be made of a dirty practice, was not a neat masticator. The sides of his mouth were usually besmeared with saliva, and his shirt bosom for a brown was tolerably white, but for a white was frightfully filthy. The two friends passed the com- plimeuts of the day, when Sothern, as he was about to depart, looking at his companion's shirt front and putting his finger upon a centre spot as if he wanted to purchase something, drily inquired, 'Old boy! have you got the sleeve buttons to match that ? ' "On another occasion he met George C , the friend of an actor who, for convenience sake, we will call Johnny P , who had just died, and from whose funeral George was returning. The latter was him- self in a very feeble condition of health and re- 222 TALKS WITH, AND marked : ' "Well, Ned, I'm afraid it will be my turn next ; the doctors tell me that I must go to Florida, Havana, Minnesota, anywhere in fact to get out of this horrible climate. Where do you think I had better go, Ned ?' " SOTHERN, cheerfully. ' Brace up, old boy, brace up ! Never entertain the blues. The best thing you can do, George, is to go round to the club with me and take a drink, and then I'll give you a letter to Johnny.' " ' But he may be in heaven.' " ' That's the very reason, my dear fellow, why you'll want credentials.' "FRESH YOUNG ACTOR TO SOTHERN. Mr. S., if I had been an actor as long as you have I should by this time be the owner of two brown stones. "SOTHERN. Certainly you would, my boy, one at your head and the other at your feet. " Sothern during the last summer, having hired an attenuated livery stable horse for a drive up the road, stopped at one of the roadside caravansaries, and while his valet was covering the animal, John McCullough came by. " McCuLLOUGH. Ned, what do you put that \A ^S, vv rPP ' \ -* ^* *A ^~ ^ ^^ k ^ ABOUT SOTHERN. 225 blanket over your horse for? he looks too weak to bear up under it. " SOTHERX. Oh ! That is to keep the wind from blowing the hay out of him." SOTHERN AND THE FIRE TEST. A writer in the Chicago Inter- Ocean communicates to that paper under date of March 20, 1878, the fol- lowing curiously descriptive article : " Is Mr. Sothern a medium ? " This is the question that fifteen puzzled investiga- tors are asking themselves this morning, after witness- ing a number of astounding manifestations at a pri- vate seance given by Mr. Sothern last night. "It lacked a few minutes of 12 when a number of Mr. Sothern's friends, who had been given to under- stand that something remarkable was to be performed, assembled in the former's room at the Sherman House and took seats in a circle around a marble-top table, which was placed in the centre of the apartment. On the table were a number of glasses, two very large bottles, and five lemons. A sprightly young gentle- man attempted to crack a joke about spirits being confined in the bottles, but the company frowned him down, and for once Mr. Sothern had a sober audience to begin with. " There was a good deal of curiosity regarding the 10* 226 TALKS WITH, AND object of the gathering, but no one was able to ex- plain. Each gentleman testified to the fact that Mr. Sothern's agent had waited upon him, and solicited his presence at a little exhibition to be given by the actor, not of a comical nature. "Mr. Sothern himself soon after appeared, and, after shaking hands with the party, thus addressed them : " ' Gentlemen, I have invited you here this evening to witness a few manifestations, demonstrations, tests, or whatever you choose to call them, which I have ac- cidentally discovered that I am able to perform. " ' I am a fire-eater, as it were. [Applause.] " ' I used to dread the fire, having been scorched once when an innocent child. [A laugh.] " Mr. Sothern (severely) ' I hope there will be no levity here, and I wish to say now that demonstra- tions of any kind are liable to upset me, while demon- strations of particular kinds may upset the audience.' " Silence and decorum being restored, Mr. Sothern thus continued: " * Thirteen weeks ago, while walking up Greenwich street, in New York, I stepped into a store to buy a cigar. To show you there was no trick about it, here are cigars out of the same box from which I selected the one I that day lighted.' [Here Mr. Sothern passed around a box of tolerable cigars.] " ' Well ! I stepped to the little hanging gas-jet to light it, and, having done so, stood contemplatively ABOUT SOTHERN. 227 holding the cigar and the gas jet in either hand, think- ing what a saving it would be to smoke a pipe, when, in ray absent-mindedness, I dropped the cigar and put the gas-jet into my mouth. Strange as it may ap- pear, I felt no pain, and stood there holding the thing in my mouth and puffing until the man in charge yelled out to me that I was swallowing his gas. Then I looked up, and, sure enough, there I was pulling away at the slender flame that came from the glass tube. " ' I dropped it instantly, and felt of my mouth, but noticed no inconvenience or unpleasant sensation whatever. " ' " What do you mean by it?" said the proprietor. " * As I didn't know what I meant by it I couldn't answer, so I picked up my cigar and went home. Once there I tried the experiment again, and in doing so I found that not only my mouth, but my hands and face, indeed, all of my body, was proof against fire. I called on a physician, and he examined me, and re- ported nothing wrong with my flesh, which appeared to be in its normal condition. I said nothing about it publicly, but the fact greatly surprised me, and I have invited you here to-night to witness a few experiments.' "Saying this, Mr. Sothern, who had lit a cigar while pausing in his speech, turned the fire end into his mouth and sat down, smoking unconcernedly. 228 TALKS WITH, AND " ' I suppose you wish to give us the fire-test,' re- marked one of the company. " Mr. Sothern nodded. " There was probably never a gathering more dumb- foundered than that present in the room. A few questions were asked, and then five gentlemen were appointed to examine Mr. Sothern's hands, etc., before he began his experiments. Having thoroughly washed the parts that he proposed to subject to the flames, Mr. Sothern began by burning his arm, and passing it through the gas-jet very slowly, twice stopping the motion and holding it still in the flames. He then picked up a poker with a sort of hook on the end, and proceeded to fish a small coil of wire from the grate. The wire came out fairly white with heat. Mr. Sothern took the coil in his hands and coolly proceeded to wrap it round his left leg to the knee. Having done so, he stood on the table in the centre of the cir- cle and requested the committee to examine the wrappings and the leg and report if both were there. The committee did so, and reported in the affirmative. " While this was going on, there was a smile, almost seraphic in its beauty, on Mr. Sothern's face. "After this an enormous iron, in the shape of a horseshoe, was brought in, and, after being heated red- hot, was placed over his neck and shoulders like a horse- collar, where it cooled, and was taken off without leaving a sign of a burn. ABOUT SOTHERN. 229 "As a final test, a tailor's goose was put on the coals, and, after being thoroughly heated, was placed in Mr. Sothern's chair. The latter lighted a fresh cigar, and then coolly took his seat on the goose without the least seeming inconvenience. During the last experi- ment Mr. Sothern sang in an excellent tone and voice, ' I'm Sitting on the Stile, Mary.' " The question now is, were the fifteen auditors of Mr. Sothern fooled and deceived, or was this a genuine manifestation of extraordinary power ? Sothern is such an inveterate joker that he may have put the thing up on the boys for his own amusement ; but if so, it was one of the nicest tricks ever witnessed by yours truly, ONE OF THE COMMITTEE. " P. S. What is equally marvelous to me is that the fire didn't burn his clothes where it touched them, any more than his flesh. P. C. " [There is nothing new in this. Mr. Sothern has long been known as one of the most expert jugglers in the profession. Some years ago he gained the soubri- quet of the ' Fire King.' He frequently amuses his friends by eating fire, though he long ceased to give public exhibitions. Probably the success of the ex- periments last night were largely owing to the lemons present. There's a good deal of trickery in those same lemons. EDITOR INTER-OCEAN.]" 230 TALKS WITH, AND A REPORTORIAL INTERVIEW ON THE SAME SUB- JECT. " I presume, Mr. Sothern, you have seen the chal- lenge in this morning's Inter- Ocean. Do you intend to accept it ?" " Well," replied the comedian, with a rather amused expression, " before answering your question allow me to ring the bell and ask Mr. Hurlbut to step here a moment." The bell was touched, and a few minutes later the proprietor of the Sherman House, looking very sleepy, and attired in a gorgeous nightcap, opened the door slowly and stood irresolute on the threshold. "Now, look here, Sothern," he said, raising his finger threateningly, and emphasizing every word, " none of your practical jokes on me ! I won't have it. At this hour all peaceably disposed cit " " See here, old fellow," said Sothern, taking him by the arm and gently towing him into the room, " there's no sell here. Too serious an affair, my dear boy, altogether too serious, for joking. Look here, read that," he said, showing the challenge. Mr. Hurlbut read the challenge, and suggested that he didn't see how it concerned him, and why he should be dragged out of bed at midnight. " But, Mr. Hurlbut," urged Sothern, " we can't pro- ABOUT SOT HERN. 231 ceed with this thing without your consent. Have you any objection to my giving an exhibition of the fire test in these parlors ?" "Most emphatically I have," responded Mr. Hurlbut. " Why, one of my mantel-pieces is utterly ruined with the marks of red-hot horse-shoes, that tailors' goose, and other infernal pieces of iron-mongery which you used the other night." " But, my dear fellow," Sothern was beginning in a persuasive tone, when Hurlbut interrupted : " There's no use talking, Sothern ; I positively refuse. Aside from the danger of fire and the dam- age to the furniture and fixtures, I don't want my house converted into a resort for itinerant ghosts." Sothern paused for a moment, reflected, and pulled his mustache. " Now," said he, " I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll send for an iron-monger and have the floor plated with boiler iron, if you will allow me to build a fur- nace in the centre of the room. I merely want to make the test ; I don't want to bet, because I'd feel as if I were swindling somebody. I've never tried this, but I feel perfectly sure of the result." " What do you want with the furnace ?" asked the hotel man. " I will permit myself," said Sothern, " to be im- bedded in a mass of any kind of fuel my challenger may select tar-barrels, and rosin ad lib. Then I 232 TALKS WITH, AND will allow any member of a committee to apply the torch." " Isn't that going a little too far, Mr. Sothern ?" asked the writer. " Well, I may be mistaken," he replied, " but I feel sure of the result, sure of it. At all events, I'll give $10,000 to any charitable fund in this city if I do not come out unscathed." " What !" ejaculated Hurlbut, with eyes like sau- cers. " Provided, my boy," added Sothern, " my medium will undergo the same test at the same time neither of us to remain in the furnace more than fifteen min- utes after the whole mass of fuel shall be in flames, and both of us to be perfectly nude." " But, I say, Sothern," said Harry Wall, of New York, who was among the company, " that won't do, you know ! Your antagonist, you know, can't consent to that. Wrap a sheet around you, at any rate. It won't burn." Hurlbut had been on the point of acquiescing ; but this was too much for him. He drew the folds of his dressing-gown tightly around him, pronounced an emphatic veto upon the whole affair, and slid from the room. " He won't have it. Well, we'll arrange it some- how," remarked Sothern, as the door closed. ABOUT SOTHERN. 233 " How did you discover this imperviousness to fire, Sotbern ?" asked Harry Wall. " Imperviousness to fire is good. Just as stated in last Monday's Inter- Ocean." " You were buying a cigar " " Precisely," broke in Sothern. " In a fit of ab- straction I let the cigar drop, and the shopman caught me swallowing the illuminated oscillating gas-jet ! This was many years ago, however, and not, as stated, a few months since." " Have you ever subjected yourself," the writer asked, "to other tests than those mentioned in the Inter- Ocean f " " Oh, yes ; played six weeks in Philadelphia during the exposition, with the thermometer in my dressing- room at 128." "And you have stood other warm tests from the press occasionally. But, seriously, have you any be- lief in spiritualism ? " " No ; I only know I do these things, but how, I can't say." " You've heard of Bishop, who was here two weeks ago ? He offered to put a bar of steel, heated to a white heat, on his shoulder, and place on top of it a five-pound weight." " A mere nothing, my dear fellow ; I'll be willing to submit to that, provided the money goes to a charity 234 TALKS WITH, AND say to a lunatic asylum for believers in the super- natural." " Have you ever submitted to this test ? " " No ; but I've done more than that. I've had cam- phene poured all over my head and body and lighted. This is a frequent test of mine, and during it I only feel a mild warmth, like an autumn day. But all this class of work is child's play. We are dallying with the topic merely." "Your power in this line is new to the people here." " Used to do it in Europe. Remember in London but here, look at this scrap-book, and you'll see two or three accounts," said the Crushed Tragedian, plac- ing the book on the table. There were numerous extracts, some flattering and others condemnatory. Harry Wall was asked to read them, and the first selected was a cutting from a Lon- don letter to a very sober, conservative Scotch sheet called the Edinburgh Evening Courant. Perhaps the publication of this will give a better idea of Mr. Sothern's powers than any elaborate description. Here it is : " Spiritualism has been a prominent theme lately, and some mysterious manipulations given by Mr. E. A. Sothern the other night, before a party of gentle- men have increased the interest. At the city house of Sir Michael O'Toole, last Tuesday evening assembled ABOUT SOTHERN. 235 Mr. F. L. Rush, of Lloyds ; Mr. Wallace Hoar, mana- ger of the United Service Club ; Sir John Reed, of the Carleton Club ; Mr. J. L. Toole, comedian ; Mr. Charles Matthews, comedian ; the Rev. Charles Eaton, M. A., and Mr. Mercer Simpson, of the Thea- tre Royal, London. In the presence of these seven gentlemen Mr. Sothern exhibited the possession of powers which, to any but an observer would be con- sidered simply incredible. Whether they, the feats, were performed by spiritual or material agency, re- mains a profound mystery, the celebrated comedian refusing to enlighten those present. A few of the tricks for I refuse to believe they were more may be worth recording. An ordinary table stood in the the centre of the room. He requested the seven gentlemen by the way, seven appears to be his favorite number to go into the next room, and he would guarantee that he would make the table too heavy for their combined strength. They did as they were requested. When they returned they moved it, but it was with the greatest effort of the combined seven. The fact that it was moved at all by seven men's strength appeared to disappoint Sothern. The next thing he did was to ask if they desired the piano moved to any part of the room. It was a remarkably heavy instrument. A spot was designated, and the piano began waltzing to the spot to the 'Mabel Waltz,' played by some means or other upon its own keys. A 236 TALKS WITH, AND few tests of a similar nature were given, when Sothern disappeared for a minute or so, and reappeared in his night-shirt. 'Gentlemen,' said he, 'I will give you another example. If any of you will open the window in this or the next room, and partially turn down the lights, I will make my exit at one. window, and while I am out will float around a little and then glide into any window you will please to designate. It was agreed to try the test, not without some objection on the part of Sir John Reed and J. L. Toole, who feared for the life of their friend. Sothern gently bent forward and gracefully floated out of a four-story window. The lights had been turned down, but they were turned up again in time to see him entering, feet first, the window of the next room. Of course the thing was a trick. It has been done by Hume, though not in the full glare of gaslight. He never touched the windows as he entered. As he came into full view, the gaslight gradually died away, and the com- pany were left in total darkness." The reading of the above made the company nervous evidently. As soon as Harry Wall had ceased, each man excused himself and left the room. THE DYING ACTRESS. The following letter to the editor explains itself: " DEAR SIR : I understand that you are soon to ABOUT SOTHERN. 237 issue a book of anecdotes and incidents about E. A. Sothern, the actor. Permit me to add one which will not detract from the fame of the great actor, but rather add fresh laurels to his crown. In looking over the morning papers some time since, my atten- tion was attracted by a notice in one of them, calling for aid in behalf of a ' poor actress, sick and in need.' I determined to call in person, and see if the story was true, and did so. She lived in a tenement in one of our crowded streets. Upon entering the house I noticed a handsome carriage in front of the door, from which a man was taking an armful of variously sized bundles. These he carried up-stairs, and I said to my- self, some good angel has surely responded to this cry for aid. Climbing up the ricketty steps and entering the musty apartment, everything was found that could exhibit poverty of the worst kind. Prone upon a rude bed was the sufferer, a pale, haggard woman, whose features were pinched with hunger. Standing near her and in the act of raising her head to offer a glass of wine, was a tall, elegant looking man, in whose blue eyes one could read a world of sweet char- ities. He laid her back upon her pillow as tenderly as a woman could have done, and finished the story he evidently had been reading to her. Then, after taking the parcels from the man, and placing them within the invalid's reach, he put a slip of paper in her hand 238 TALKS WITH, AND and wished her good-bye, saying, as he closed the door, ' I will send you a nurse as soon as possible.' " I advanced towards the sick woman, who had un- folded the little slip of paper and was wiping the tears from her eyes, and said, ' You seem to have a kind friend.' " ' A kind friend ! ah, more ; a good angel. And who would think, to see him in Lord Dundreary, that such a heart was concealed beneath that extei'ior ? ' " ' Why, you don't say that is the man I have laughed myself sick over in Dundreary and Brother Sam.' "'Yes, that is Mr. Sothern the actor, and a kinder, truer friend, in sunshine or in sorrow, does not exist. See this check for $50, and all these things which he has brought me ; and I am only one out of many others who share his charities, and of whom the world knows naught.' " Can a sermon say more ? "MRS. G. W. M." THE LATE GEORGE HOLLAND. Mr. Sothern one day, while recalling some of his early associations with the old actors, turned to a worn and faded manuscript of Mr. George Holland, in which are detailed the following interesting remin- iscences of that dead actor's school days. They have ABOUT SOTHERN. 239 never before been published. By permission of Mr. Sothern it is reproduced here. It says : "About the year 1806 I used to attend school at Berharapstead, Hertfordshire, then conducted by the Rev. Dr. Dupree. " The doctor was celebrated for his whipping pro- pensities, and derived great pleasure in hearing his victim yell, during the operation. He was more lenient to one who did so lustily. But his mode of punishment was peculiar. He would pace the floor, delivering a salutary lecture upon the offense com- mitted, and, every time he passed the delinquent, he administered a sharp blow, to make his language more impressive. Holland received his first and only pun- ishment in the following manner, which he thus re- lates : " One evening, just prior to bed-time, the outdoor fag was dispatched through a secret hole in the fence, to the tavern, for fried sausages, and I was deputed to wait in the yard, having previously asked leave of absence from one of the teachers, to receive and con- vey them to our bedroom. Just on the stroke of nine the boy returned, carrying the sausages, smoking hot, in a platter covered with a clean, white napkin, handed them to me, and rushed into the school-room. I was slowly following, when the door was shut and bolted in my face. I listened a moment, and then heard the doctor calling the roll. Feeling secure from 2 4 o TALKS WITH, AND punishment in the knowledge that I had leave of ab sence from the teacher, my only anxiety was to smug- gle in the sausages. A happy idea struck me. I rolled the napkin tightly around both platter and sausages, slipped them under my jacket up my back, knocked boldly at the door, was admitted, and took my seat at one of the writing-desks. In a few moments I became very uneasy ; I felt the hot gravy running down my back, and fancied I could smell the savory odor. I was not mistaken, for presently the doctor began to ' sniff,' * sniff,' ' sniff,' very suspiciously. He approached the school-room door, opened it, and again exercised his olfactories, at the same time observing to one of the teachers that there was a ' strong smell of cooking somewhere.' The odor became so great that there was a general sniffing among the boys, and I could hear the whispered exclamations : 'I smell it ;' ' So do I ;' ' Don't it smell prime ?' etc. The doc- tor, failing to trace the cause from which the deli- cious perfume came, closed the door, and returned. As he passed my desk, he suddenly halted, and giving a long sniff, exclaimed : 'Bless me ! the smell is very strong hereabout.' " Whether my guilty looks betrayed me I don't know, but all eyes were fixed upon me. The doctor, suppos- ing I had something contraband in my lap, leaned over to see, in Avhieh act, to assist himself, he placed his right hand upon the next boy's shoulder, and his left ABOUT SOTHERN. . 241 directly upon the sausages under my coat. I writhed terribly, for the pressure was exceedingly painful upon the blistered skin. He quickly withdrew his hand, lifted up my jacket, drew forth our prospective sup- per, placed it upon the desk, opened the saturated napkin, and gazed a moment in silence. Then the an- ticipation of pleasure he was about to receive in the indulgence of the rod made him facetious. ' So,' said he, ' here is a pattern of a Greek scholar. Xot satisfied with learning the language, he must also live in grease (Greece).' There was a general titter among the boys, which was suddenly stopped by the doctor exclaiming in loud tones, ' Take him up ! Take him up ! I'll exe- cute a map of " Greece " for him.' I was mounted upon the back of a lad in a twinkling ; the doctor flourished his rod, and brought it down with a hearty will. Re- membering his leniency towards shouting boys, and having excellent lungs, I roared louder than any boy ever did before. It being nine o'clock and a quiet evening, it was said they heard my cries over the entire village. I imagine that recollections of my dreadful roaring ever after saved me from punishment, for the doctor got finely rated for cruelty to his scholars, by the villagers who heard my yells. While I remained in school, I was frequently pointed out by the scholars as the ' great traveller ; one who had been all over grease.' " 11 242 TALKS WITH, AND THE BARON OF BIRMINGHAM. Mr. Sothern also related the following incident in connection with the above : In May, 1817, George Holland was engaged by R. W. Elliston, then the manager of the theatre at Birmingham. Holland's salary was fifteen shillings per week, he having at this time but little experience as an actor. His first appearance during this engage- ment, happened as follows : The opening pieces were " Bertram," and " The Broken Sword." Holland was cast for one of the monks in " Bertram," and the Baron in the " Broken Sword." After reading the parts, he went to Mr. Brunton, and stated that he was quite a novice in the profession, having only played two comic parts at the Olympic, and felt that he could not play the parts assigned to him, either with credit to the establish- ment, or pleasure to himself, being convinced that if he had any ability for the stage, it was quite in an- other line of business. Mr. Brunton replied : " I know nothing of your en- gagement, or your theatrical abilities ; you must do the best you can with them, for I shall not alter the cast." Finding it useless to argue the subject, Mr. Elliston being absent, he concluded to take Mr. Brun- ton's advice, and do the best he could until Mr. Ellis- ABOUT SOTHERN. 243 ton's return ; and then have a full understanding respecting the particulars of his engagement. The following is Holland's description of the man- ner in which he personated those characters : " I studied the parts of the Monk and the Baron, but had not a single theatrical property. Bodie told me he would get the wardrobe-keeper to select the dresses, and he would assist me at night. This he failed to do, but requested a gentleman who played one of the Monks, and shared my room, to aid me in dressing. The latter did so, and I flattered myself that I made a fair appearance, and got through the performance without particular fault. The gentleman who played the first Monk, said I had a very good voice, but my articulation was so d d bad he could only make out a word here and there. This was correct, for I remember speaking in what I called my tragedy voice, a deep tone. ' Bertram ' being a tragedy, I thought it requisite, and not being perfect in the lines, I didn't stick for words, but kept ' wha-whaing ' some ram- bling deep tones, until I gave the cue, which I took care to remember. This was the cause of the gentle- man's remarks. "After the play I hurried to my room to prepare for the Baron. I found a queer-looking dress, red stock- ings, and an old pair of russet shoes with large white rosettes lying on my table. I had to stuff the shoes to keep them on my feet. My friend the Monk 244 TALKS WITH, AND dressed me, completing the costume with a large ruff around my neck ; then, surveying me from head to foot, exclaimed : ' There, my boy ! that's the ticket ! now for your mug sit down and I'll paint you a prime .old man's face.' For all this attention of course I felt grateful. Another gentleman dress- ing in the same room, said he would hear me repeat the part, while my face was being painted, for which offer I kindly thanked him, feeling rather dubious about being perfect. While my artistic friend was * lining ' my face (as it is termed) he would thus comment upon it, occasionally, stepping back to observe the effect. " 'Ah, that's it ; another line just here ; there ! now then, a dark shade for the hollow cheeks, that's capital, ain't it, Bill ? ' appealing to the gentleman who was hearing me recite my part. ' It will have a good effect at a distance. Now for your wig,' which he stuck on my head, without my seeing it. I felt it was too small, and told him so, but he still kept tugging at it, with the remark : * Why ! what a thundering thick head you've got ; ha ! a little of your hair seen soon settle that ! ' and he rubbed the whitening ball all around the edge of it, to cover the hair, and make it agree with the wig. ' There, that's it ! look Bill, how well the wig assimilates with the face. Prime, isn't it ? ' " Having now finished, I asked him for the looking ABOUT SOTHERN. 245 glass, that I might see myself. He said that Mr. Elliot had just taken the glass with him, as some of the dressing-rooms were not furnished with all the requisites. " ' You're all right, however, my boy, there's no need of a glass, and there goes the curtain bell. Bette* get to your post, ready to go on.' "The dressing-room was under the stage, and on my way to the first wing, I could hear the dialogue on the stage. Not wishing to be bothered by any observation before I went on, I paused and repeated my part, until the time arrived for me to be at the wing ; then up I went. " Mr. Brunton, the stage manager, who played Ester- ven, was standing in the entrance ; as soon as he saw me he started, and exclaimed : " ' My God ! who are you ?' "His manner and question rather confused me, but I replied faintly : ' I'm the Baron.' " ' The Baron ? the devil !' said he. ' What on earth do you look like? You can't go on the stage, sir. That figure' "Just then Mr. Elliot, who played Claudie, linked his arm in mine, saying : ' Holland, that's our cue,' and dragged me on the stage, where we were greeted with a roar of laughter, such as I never heard equalled. This reception, with Mr. Brunton's furious manner of speaking to me, drove all recollection of my part 246 TALKS WITH, AND out of my head. However, I proceeded to say some- thing, amid a chorus of hilarious remarks such as 'Beautiful,' 'Go it, Wigsby !' 'Bravo, bravo,' &c. When the noise somewhat subsided, a fellow in the gallery roared out in a serious, sepulchral voice, ' Take in your legs, young Baron.' This settled me, and I dashed off the stage, ran to my dressing-room, crammed my shoes, stockings, cap, and all the small articles into a carpet bag threw my cloak over my head and shoulders, and bolted from the theatre amid shouts of ' Stop him ! stop him !' But I didn't stop until safely domiciled in my own room. There, throwing off my cloak and dashing clothes and bag on the floor, I sank into a chair exhausted, feeling a sort of choking sensation in my throat, and moisture in my eyes. After a while, getting a little more com- posed, I took a look at myself in the glass ; when, notwithstanding my vexation, I couldn't help bursting into an immoderate fit of laughter, for of all the ' Guys' I ever beheld, my appearance was the most ridiculous. No part of the dress had the least appearance of pro- priety my face was nothing but a mass of black, white and red lines, immense black eyebrows, with glaring red forehead a kind of pantaloon's dirty white wig, with high top knot, and side curls frizzed out to a point, making the wig in the shape of a tri- angle, with a large black tail sticking out behind. The wig was just stuck upon the top of my head, with a ABOUT SOTHERN. 247 broad band of chalk around it, to cover my own black hair, which was quite prominent. I gazed at my- self some time, exclaiming : ' I'm the Baron, am I ? Yes, I'm the Baron and a d d handsome Baron I am !' The following morning I sent all the various parts of the Baron's dress to the theatre, determined not to go there until Mr. Elliston arrived. The boy returned and said that my name was chalked up in large letters on the walls all about the stage door. 'Holland, the Baron of Birmingham.' That settled me, and I ' took in my legs ' with a determination never to let them be seen in that part of England again. It was mouths before I heard the last of the joke." FAREWELL BENEFIT AND SPEECH IN NEW YORK. On the occasion of his last appearance in New York, the great audience present attested their appreciation of Mr. Sothern by frequently calling him before the curtain. He was eventually obliged to make two speeches, and with the reproduction of one of these, the present volume is concluded. In his first one he merely stated that he had care- fully written a long and most interesting speech, but that unfortunately he had lost it and begged leave to go and look for it, as, not having memorized it, he hadn't the ghost of an idea what it was all about. On 248 TALKS WITH, AND the conclusion of " The Crushed Tragedian " he was again recalled, and, pretending to be intensely nervous, said : "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm blessed if I can find that speech. I can't for the life of me remember the beginning, but I'll try the middle or the end, and wander about it, if you'll kindly give me rounds of applause whenever it strikes you as singularly bad. The good points will take care of themselves at least, I hope so. This is the one hundred and twenty- sixth performance I have given on this stage. Eighty-four times have I appeared in ' The Crushed,' which piece I was obliged to withdraw from the bills owing to a severe sore throat. By the way, you know all this, but I'll gradually arrive at a point. All I ask is, as prize fighters say, ' Time ! ' Mr. Byron has, in * The Crushed,' most cleverly and good naturedly satirized the old school of provincial tragic acting, and has kindly allowed me to * build up ' the part of Fitzaltamont, and make a special study of it. I have succeeded beyond my utmost hopes, for press and public have universally acknowledged that, as a creation, if I may use the word, Fitz is fully equal to Dundreary. But enough of myself. Many thanks to the gentleman in the stalls who says ' no, no ! ' but if I don't rattle on I shall lose the thread of what I am. trying to arrive at, so I repeat 'enough of myself;' for I want to speak of a dear old ABOUT SOTHERN. 249 friend of mine, Mr. John T. Raymond, who will more than fill my place on these boards on Monday night. (Good !) I knew that would ' bring down the house ! ' - Do it again. Thank you. As Colonel Sellers, he has stamped himself. (Voice from the dress circle ' He's what ?') I don't mean he's post- age stamped himself ; I mean he's proven himself one of the finest character actors of the age. On Friday next he will have performed Colonel Sellers 1,000 times, and if he lives, you may eventually add two or three O's and say ' there's millions in it ! ' (Applause.) Ah ! I had you again. Thanks. Now I'll have a fly at something else. I wish publicly to thank Mr. Henry Abbey, the manager of this theatre, for his kindness, thoughtfulness and liberality. My thanks are also due to the ladies and gentlemen who have so greatly helped me through what I am proud to call a most successful engagement. To the press I am much indebted for the generous way in which they have criticised our performances, and especially for the kind words of encouragement they gave me when I made the bold and dangerous experiment of satirizing a school of acting that some even yet believe in. With Mr. Byron's permission I shall write in (he would do it much better, but he won't ; he hasn't the time) another scene, in which Fitzaltamont, failing as a lec- turer on the ' Carriway Tribe,' turns prestidigitateur (what a frightfully long word), I mean a conjurer. I 250 TALKS WITH SOTHERN. merely add that to make things extra clear. Robert Heller is a very old friend of mine, and he has, in the kindest manner, been teaching me the wildest sorts of tricks. They do look so easy, and they are so diffi- cult. He thinks nothing at all of pulling babies and bird cages out of his boots, and putting them up his sleeve or palming them. But then he requires music. Now, I don't. That gives me encouragement. As to Miss Heller, she has most graciously for months past endeavored to explain to me the ' Second Sight ' mystery. I've conquered the 'First Sight.' It's the ' Second Sight ' that floors me. For instance, in con- juring, I can take a common hat, like this we'll call it a common hat, but it isn't and you see at once how, by a pure effort of memory, I gently produce a common baby, weighing thirty-two pounds and a few ounces. Of course, it's a fearful strain on the mind ; but you see at a glance how it is done, don't you ? Well, I'll do it again. (Voice from stalls ' When ?') When I return from England. Good night. God bless everybody !" THE END. 1878. 1878. NEW BOOKS AND NEW EDITIONS, RECENTLY ISSUED BY Gr. W.CARLETON& Co., Publishers, Madison Square, New York. 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