Life and art of Richard Mansfield, with selections from his letters

LIBRARY

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA

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LIFE AND ART

OF

RICHARD MANSFIELD

WORKS OF WILLIAM WLNTER

The Quken's Domain
Shakespeare's England
Gray Days and Gold
Old Sheines and Ivy
Brown Heath and Blue Bells
The Actor, and Other Orations
Shadows of the Stage: I
Shadows of the Stage: II
Shadows op the Stage: III

{Others in Preparation)
The Press and the Stage
Life and Art of Edwin Booth
Life and Art of Joseph Jefferson
Wanderers. (Poems)
Brief Chronicles. Being Lives of Actors
A Wreath of Laurel. Addresses
Henry Irving in America
Stage Life of Mary Anderson
A Daughter of Comedy

The Theatre and the Public, and Other
Orations

John McCullough. A Memorial
Life of John Gilbert

Other Days

Old Friends

Poems. (Final Edition)

Life and Art of Eichard Mansfield

LIFE OF RICHARD MANSFIELD

LIFE AND ART

OF

RICHARD MANSFIELD

WITH SELECTIONS FROM HIS LETTERS

BY

WILLIAM WINTER

III

Truth Bpeak for me.

I will remain the constant sanctuary

Of your good name.

WEBSTER

VOLUME ONE

New York

MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY

1910

Copyright, 1907, 1908, 1910, by
WILLIAM WINTER

All Rights Beterved

Published, February, 1910

TO

HERIVIAN H. KOHLSAAT

Because He Loved and Honored

RICHARD MANSFIELD

And by Him Was Loved and Honored

And Because My Book Will Be Enriched

By Association with His Name

I Dedicate This Memorial

Of a Fine Genius and a Brilliant Life

Friends through long years of pleasure and of pain
Nor Time nor Death itself can wholly part.

For here at Memory's shrine they meet again
In the sweet converse of the faithful heart.

CONTENTS.

PAGB

Preface 13

CHAPTEB

I. 1854-1877 25

II. 1877-1883 43

III. 1883-1888 50

IV. 1888-1890 83

V. 1890-1892 124.

VI. 1892 157

VII. 1893 179

VIII. 1894-1899 219

IX. 1899-1906 256

X. 1906-1907 303

Mansfield's Writings 345

Erminia Rudersdorff 349

His Mother's Will 354

Beatrice Cameron — Mrs. Mansfield .... 357

ILLUSTRATIONS.

VOLUME ONE.

Richard Mansfield Frontispiece

From a Portrait by S. L. Stein.

FACING
PAGE

Mansfield as Baron Chevrial 28

Facsimile^ from Mansfield's Notes for This "Life" . . 34

Richard and Felix Mansfield, About 1862 .... 36

Richard Mansfield, About 1877 44

Facsimile: Playbill of "The Pirates of Penzance" . . 46

Mansfield as Sir Joseph Porter, K.C.B 48

From a Pen and Ink Drawing by Himself.

Richard Mansfield in 1885 56

Robert Louis Stevenson 68

Tomasso Salvini as Othello 74

Mansfield as King Richard the Third (Act III.) . . 80

Henry Irving in 1888 90

Eben D. Jordan 106

Richard Mansfield in 1889 114

Mansfield as Glo'ster; Beatrice Cameron as Lady Anne,

"Richard III." 122

George Brummell, the Famous Beau, in Youth . . .132

Beatrice Cameron — Mrs. Mansfield 154

Mansfield and His Son 156

13

14 ILLUSTRATIONS

FACING
PAQB

Augustin Daly in 1892 168

Richard Mansfield in 1892 178

Ellen Terry as Portia 192

Edwin Booth 212

Mansfield as Napoleon Bonaparte 222

Mansfield in 1895 234

E. M. Holland 240

Albert M. Palmer 244

Richard Mansfield in 1898 254

Edmond Rostand 260

Richard Mansfield 264

" The Grange," Mansfield's New London Home . . 268

Mr. and Mrs. Mansfield at "The Grange" .... 278

Richard Mansfield in 1905 288

Mr. and Mrs. Mansfield and George Gibbs Mansfield . 298

Richard Mansfield 308

Mr. and Mrs. Mansfield in the Garden, at "The Grange" . 318
Richard Mansfield at His Home in New York . . .322

Richard Mansfield in 1 906 330

Richard Mansfield — His Last Photograph .... 342

Mme. Erminia Rudersdorff 350

Mrs. Mansfield and George Gibbs Mansfield . . . 358

Mrs. Mansfield and Her Son in 1 908 360

PREFACE.

RiCHAED Mansfield earnestly requested me to write his
LIFE, / promised to do so, and this book is the fulfilment
of my promise. My acquaintance with him extended over
a period of about twenty-five years, and during the greater
part of that time my association with him was that of
intimate friendship, only once seriously disturbed, and
then only for a little while, although more than once he
became incensed with me, and freely and even rudely
expressed his dissatisfaction. He was a man of unquiet,
undisciplined, impulsive, imperious mind, intent on personal
aggrandizement, the acquisition of wealth and fame, and he
was so impatient of delay in the fulfilment of his purposes
that he scarcely ever allowed a moment of peace either
to himself or any person near him; but, while he was some-
times a trial to patience, he was, essentially, a practical
exemplar of devotion to high ideals, an active instrument of
virtuous intellectual force, and therefore a potent, influential
character, worthy of respect and sympathy in life, and of
thoughtful commemoration, now that he has passed away.
Such commemoration it is the design of this memoir to
provide.

The chronicle of Mansfield's career tells the story of a
man of aspiring genius who, during many years and against

15

16 PREFACE

many obstacles, strove for the achievement of noble results
in the administration of the Theatre; gained brilliant
victories; encountered grievous disappointments ; and, after
a gallant struggle, died, exhausted in the endless contest
that seeks to make intellect triumphant over materialism
and the great art of acting a prime incentive to refined
civilization and therefore to public happiness. That
chronicle involves narrative of varied and picturesque
theatrical industry, analysis of a singularly complex and
interesting personality, and the presentment of an image
of endeavor, endurance, persistence, and fidelity that ought
to prove instructive and stimulative, especially to every
sincere votary of the Stage. Writing to me, immediately
after the death of the illustrious actor Henry Irving,
Mansfield said: "/ think that Irving^ s end was very envi-
able: it was best so, and is always best so." Irving died
at his post, worn out by continual, conscientious, devoted,
magnificent labor, in the service of his profession and of
the public welfare. Mansfield met with a kindred fate,
resultant from a kindred cause, for he was impelled by a
like ardor of motive and by the indomitable spirit which is
always saying to itself: "Think nothing done while aught
remains to do."

It was remarked by that close observer and sagacious
judge of human nature, the historian Macaulay, that
"biographers, and indeed all persons who employ themselves
in illustrating the lives of others, are peculiarly disposed
to the disease of admiration." That truth has admonished

PREFACE 17

me of the wisdom of restraining my enthmiasm, and of
allowing the subject of this memoir to speak for himself,
wherever possible, revealing his character, and describing
his conduct, directly to the reader, through the medium
of his Letters. Those compositions are numerous, for his
industry in letter-writing was incessant and exceptionally
productive. To me and to members of my family he wrote
more than five hundred letters, some of which have been
destroyed, but many of which, because intrinsically
interesting, have been preserved. Some of those letters,
either in full or in part, have been woven into the
strands of this narrative, and they will be found especially
illuminative of the mind, the feelings, and the experi-
ence of their writer. Confidence has been scrupulously
respected. In some instances the names of persons still
living, or of those whose near relatives are still living,
have been omitted, for while it has been my purpose to
depict Mansfield as he was, it has been my earnest desire
to avoid causing pain or just resentment. Mansfield, vn
his condemnation of individuals, was sometimes more
explicit than judicious: on other occasions Ms justice was
not less commendable than his candor. Most of my letters
to him have, unfortunately, been destroyed or lost: they
would have been useful in this work. The few of them
that appear in it were kindly furnished to me by Mrs.
Mansfield, to whose courtesy also I am indebted for use of
the originals of various illustrations with which these
volumes are embellished. For other pictures I am indebted

18 PREFACE

to the kindness of that scholastic enthusiast of the drama
and unwearied collector of theatrical annals and relics.
Evert Jansen Wendell.

This hook does not contain anything that has been de-
rived, either directly or indirectly, from any previous
narrative, by any other hand than my own, of the LIFE OF
RICHARD MANSFIELD. It is essential that I should make
this statement here, in order to protect myself from the
possible imputation that my work is indebted to an already
existing book about him, made by a person who has
industriously explored my published writings, appropriated
various thoughts of mine, sometimes used my actual words,
and sometimes paraphrased them. My essays and comments
on Mansfield's acting have been abundant within the last
twenty-five years, and from those essays and comments, and
from many theatrical records of mine, some in manuscript,
some dispersed through ''The New York Tribune,"
"Harper's Weekly," "The Saturday Evening Post," and
other publications, I have drawn whatever would serve the
purpose of this memoir. My principal authority for
statements of biographical fact is Mansfield himself, — his
communications to me having been ample and particular.
I have verified them, whenever necessary. Many details,
which are valuable for the guidance of a biographer, would
he tedious if set forth for a reader. I have followed Mans-
field's account of his ancestry, but have not deemed it
necessary to descant, in detail, on his relatives or on
domestic incidents of his boyhood, — themes which, in almost

PREFACE 19

all memoirs, are trite and insipid. From the day of our
first meeting, when he was introducejd to me hy our
affectionate friend the late Col. E. A. Buck, until
nearly the day of his death, Mansfield habitually con-
sulted me relative to his schemes and ventures, and,
referring to his professional career, it pleased him to
say, "/ am your dramatic godson." His authorization
of the biography which I have written was expressed
thus: "I wonder if you would care to undertake a
Biography? It might interest some persons, and much
in my early life was strange. It should prove interesting.
I think a book on the Life of R. M., from your pen, might
sell well. I do not know — but I think so"; and later, when
I told him I had already planned the book, he wrote: "7 am
tremendously excited about your writing the Life of R. M.
It is better than being knighted! . . . If I am alive next
year I propose to invite you to go abroad with me. We
will travel over the ground together, foot for foot; all the
places I lived in, and was beaten and starved: my grand-
father's vineyard: he was the friend of poets: my old Aunt
— still living — a 'Grand Lady': the school at Yverdon; at
Bourbourg; Derby — 0, well, it will be great and glorious!"
Had he lived, that dream, perhaps, might have been realized.
My work certainly would have been enriched by some excel-
lent pictures, for it was planned that special portraits
should be made of him, in all his characters (in some of
them he was never photographed), and that they should
not be reproduced except in this book.

20 PREFACE

Infirmities are common to human nature^ and the philo'
sophic mind discounts them, as a matter of course. The
virtues of human nature are the attributes of it most
essential to be observed and recorded. I believe that Mans-
field^s virtues are fully shown in this memoir, and that
they are made the more conspicuous because displayed
in contrast with his defects. At times he was the object
of harsh criticism and rancorous censure. I have judged
it right, knowing him to have been a good man and a great
actor, and so depicting him in these pages, not to ignore
his faults and errors, nor the censure that sometimes fol-
lowed him. In other words, I have tried to write a LIFE
and not a EULOGY; and if my recorded estimate is incorrect
the inaccuracy must be ascribed not to lack of knowledge
but to lack of judgment.

Analysis of the subjects that an actor selects for illustra-
tion upon the stage is an essential part of the portraiture
of his acting and a valuable index of his mind, and there-
fore, in the division of this biography which is devoted
to Mansfield's ART, the plays that he presented are
particularly examined and described.

The minute Chronology of the actor's Life, which is
appended to the narrative, and in which are included the
Casts of Characters of all the principal plays with which
he was associated, will be found useful to those students
of theatrical history who chance to desire particular
information on this subject, for the purpose of reference
when in haste. The making of it has exacted much labor.

PREFACE 21

There are a few repetitions of dates in these •volumes, and
they are intentional, — as they save the reader the trouble of
referring from one volume to the other in order to ascertain
the time of the event recorded or discussed.

Information has been afforded to me, — and the kindness
is here gratefully acknowledged, — hy the learned theatrical
antiquarian, John Bouve Clapp, of Boston; the eminent
actor, Johnston Forbes-Robertson; the distinguished musical
critic, Dr. Henry E. Krehbiel; the veteran journalist,t
Francis M. Stanwood; the literary connoisseur, Albert H.
Whitin, of Whitinsville, Mass.; and Mrs. Stephen D.
Stephens, who, in her girlhood, was for some time a pupil
of Mansfield's mother, Mme. Erminia Rudersdorff, and
resident in her home, at Berlin, Mass. Letters that were
addressed by Mansfield to that great theatrical manager,
Augustin Daly, have been kindly placed at my disposal by
the honored jurist, Joseph F. Daly, Augustin's brother and
executor. I would also express my gratitude to my son,
William Jefferson Winter, for valuable suggestions and for
practical help in the laborious research essential to a com-
prehensive scheme of authentic biography.

The present epoch is one of materialism and luxury.
Triumph in the doing of great artistic deeds, the dramatic
illustration of great subjects, the stimulative, cheering
exposition of the splendid possibilities of spiritual human
development in the ministry of beauty, has never been easy,
and it is more difficult now than once it was, when wealth
was less abundant and life less sophisticated. The genius

22 PREFACE

that conquers m our time must be fortified hy indomitable
will, steadfast endurance, tireless industry, and irresistible
charm. Our time was Mansfield's time, and although he
was worn out by the struggle, and although he sacrificed
his life in the conflict, he diffused an abiding influence
that should cheer and animate the disciples of intellect,
and he gained an honorable fame that will long endure.
If there were only half a score of actors possessed of such
genius and ability as that of RICHARD MANSFIELD^ and
animated by such a profound, passionate devotion to the
art of acting as that which glowed and burned in him, our
Theatre, in this day of scientific prodigy and seemingly
miraculous possibilities, would show a ripeness and splen-
dor of accomplishment such as the world has never seen.
The completion and publication of this LIFE OF MANS-
FIELD have been long delayed, partly because of the inter-
vention of other tasks and duties, but chiefly because of
solicitude as to the obtainment of truth and as to the right
expression of right conclusions. The responsibility of a
biographer is great toward the living, — for, as remarked
by Landor, "more can be said in one minute than can be
forgotten in a lifetime," — but it is even greater toward the
dead, for they can no longer speak for themselves.

W. W.

December 1, 1909.

Men must endure
Their going hence, even as their coming hither.
Ripeness is all.

— SHAKESFEABE.

He strives against the stream, nor can his power reverse
the first decrees of fate.

— CEKVANTES.

The public are always anxious to know the men who
have left behind them any image of their minds. The
most scanty accounts of such men are compiled with dili-
gence and perused with eagerness; and the student of every
class may derive a lesson from the lives most similar to
his own. . . . Every man who rises above the common
level has received two educations; the first from his
teachers; the second, more personal and more important,
from himself.

GIBBON.

The worst way in the world to win fame is to be too
anxious for it.

He who surpasses or subdues mankind

Must look down on the hate of those below.

Whoso conquers the world.
Winning its riches and fame.
Conies to the evening at last.
The sunset of three score years.
Confessing that love was real.
All the rest was a dream.

E. C. STEDMAN.

THE LIFE OF RICHARD MANSFIELD.

I.

1854 TO 1877.

The essential part of the story of an actor's life,
when, having achieved eminence and made himself
important to his generation, he has passed away, is
the record of his intellectual development; his pro-
gressive mental and spiritual experience, as revealed
in his impersonations of great characters in dramatic
hterature. In proportion to an actor's knowledge
of human nature and human experience, — knowl-
edge that he has assimilated through observation,
thought, and suffering, — is the value of his artistic
impartment to the world. Richard Mansfield was,
from boyhood, intensely ambitious, and it was his
ambition to excel in the realm of art. His youth
was one of vicissitude and of considerable hardship.
His purpose, at the outset, was indefinite. He
tried other paths before he entered upon the path
of the stage; but, once entered upon that path, he

25

26 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

found himself in his natural vocation, and he
launched himself, heart and soul, upon the struggle
for conquest and eminence. He was not at any
time a person of wayward life, pursuant of pleasure
and careless of opportunity. He was earnest, dili-
gent, and faithful, — improving every chance of
winning distinction that came within his reach, and
he thoroughly earned and entirely deserved every
laurel that ever was awarded to him. The develop-
ment of his mind was that expansion of the intellect
which accompanies the gradual predominance of a
noble, chastened spirit over the trials, misfortunes,
and sorrows inseparable from life. Recognition,
not praise, is the ordained craving of the artistic
nature, and it is only when that nature becomes
utterly embittered and cynical that the desire for
recognition dies. That desire never died in Rich-
ard Mansfield. The highest attribute of his act-
ing was imagination, and, next to that attribute,
came humor, — in which his mind was uncommonly
rich. He had a kind heart, and, by nature, he
was magnanimous, of a sweet disposition, ear-
nestly wishful to be loved, and exceedingly sus-
ceptible to kindness. His temper, however, was
splenetic and impetuous, and, as his nervous sys-
tem had been impaired by long-continued labor,
many disappointments, and the annoyance con-

FALLOW PERIODS 27

sequent upon much misrepresentation, he sometimes,
in his day of renown, exliibited irritation, petulance,
anger, and morosity. But the observation that
would judge him exclusively by his failings would
reason from imperfect knowledge. He was, intrin-
sically, a good man as well as a great actor, and,
in losing him, society lost a generous and ennobling
influence, and the American stage lost a puissant
and beneficent force.

In following the history of human development
the observer comes, at intervals, upon periods of
apparent sterility: periods in which intellectual
fertility appears to have ceased; but, in every
case, the syncope is brief. The middle of the
eighteenth century, for example, was, compara-
tively, barren in English poetry, but about the end
of that century and the beginning of the next
the embers of expressive genius once more burst into
flame, and the shining names of Burns, Words-
worth, Scott, Coleridge, Byron, Shelley, and Keats
were written, in letters of golden light, on the
tablet of everlasting renown. At the end of the
first third of the nineteenth century there came
another barren time; but, all the while, the vast,
unresting, inexplicable force that pervades and
animates Nature was at work, and soon the great
novels of Dickens, Reade, and Thackeray, and the

28 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

great poems of Tennyson and Matthew Arnold,
gave unequivocal proof that the fire of expressive
genius, though veiled, had not been extinguished.
As it has been with hterature so it has been with
the other arts, and, conspicuously, with the art of
acting. Charlotte Cushman, Adelaide Neilson,
Mary Anderson, Ellen Terry, Helena Modjeska,
and Ada Rehan have taught successive periods
that neither the tragic nor comic muse departed
with Dora Jordan, Sarah Siddons, Mary Duff,
Helen Faucit, or Ellen Tree. Edwin Booth, who,
about 1857, had, upon the American stage, inaugu-
rated a new epoch of dramatic art, died in 1898,
and it might then have been supposed that tragedy
had died with him; but the sceptre that dropped
from the dying hand of that great tragedian was
taken up by Richard Mansfield; and till his death,
in 1907, he held that sceptre, in the theatre of
America.

Mansfield's genius blazed forth suddenly and with
astonishing lustre. It was my fortune to be pres-
ent on the night when he made his first signal suc-
cess on the American stage. It was the night of
January 10, 1883, and the place was the Union
Square Theatre, New York. The play was "A
Parisian Romance," one of the many literal, and
therefore necessarily vulgar, pictures of profligate

Courtesy of Messrs. Klaic and Erlanyer

MANSFIELD AS BARON CHEVRIAL
From the Original Painting by Louis Kronberg

CHEVRIAL 29

life in Paris so common in our theatre within the
last thirty years. The part was that of Baron
Chevrial, a wealthy banker, who lives for sensual
pleasure, avows the doctrine of materialism, is
radically selfish, rapacious, licentious, epicurean, and
cruel; and whose employment, in the dramatic
fiction, is the crafty pursuit of a discontented wife,
whom he is the means of driving to ruin, and of a
ballet-girl, by whom he is beguiled, and in whose
presence, and the presence of other votaries of
pleasure, he dies, horribly, stricken with apoplexy.
It would be difficult to conceive of a character more
hateful than that of Baron Chevrial, or of circum-
stances more loathsome than those in which he is
implicated. Nothing was expected of the actor.
He took the town by surprise. His make-up for
the rickety sinner was seen to be a marvel of fidel-
ity,— suggesting, in many careful details, the pre-
mature decrepitude of an almost senile profligate.
His horrid, cheerful, cynical exultation in sensu-
ahty and in vicious enterprise seemed to exert a
sort of infernal charm, attracting even while it
repelled: and his defiant audacity and tremendous
fortitude of will, at the crisis of the banquet and
in the death-scene, made the part splendid, even
in its odious ignominy. The audience was aston-
ished; the performance made a profound impres-

30 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

sion; and from that achievement it might have been
divined, — and by some observers it was divined, —
that the young actor was destined to peculiar and
exceptional eminence.

Mansfield, it should be said, was not respon-
sible for the introduction of "A Parisian Romance"
to the American stage. It subsequently became
known, indeed, that his first appearance as Chev-
rial was one of those singular accidents that have
had so much influence in moulding histrionic for-
tunes and making stage history. Mansfield, poor
and comparatively unknown, had for some time
been wishful to obtain employment under the man-
agement of A. M. Palmer, at the Union Square
Theatre, then a popular and prosperous house.
Coming to New York, from Baltimore, where he
had been performing in comic opera, — December,
1882, — he obtained the coveted engagement, and,
the "Romance" being in rehearsal, he was cast for
the minor part of Tirandel. The part of Chevrial
had been assigned to that fine actor the veteran
James H. Stoddart (1827-1907), who held a lead-
ing position in Mr. Palmer's stock company, and
Stoddart, after some hesitation, had wisely declined
it, as one unsuitable to him because "out of his hne."
Mansfield, meanwhile, better qualified for such a
character than the elder comedian, had discerned

EARLY TRAINING 31

possibilities in it which were imperceptible to his
professional associates, and when he heard that
Stoddart had refused it he earnestly solicited the
vacant opportunity. His request was granted, —
somewhat reluctantly, as long afterward he told
me; saying, also, that no one surmised his intention
to make it prominent, or possessed any notion of
the treatment of it upon which he had determined,
and that no one was more surprised than the man-
ager was, by the exceptional success which attended
his performance.

Opportunity, a precious thing and justly celebrated
alike in poem and proverb, is useless except to those
persons who are prepared to improve it. Mansfield,
an actor by inheritance and by training, was admi-
rably fitted to seize the golden chance. From his
childhood he had been educated in the art of
expression. His mother, Erminia Rudersdorff,
highly distinguished on the musical stage of her day,
early began to instruct him in the elements of music
and drama. He was quick to learn and he never for-
got. He once told me that it was part of his morn-
ing study, every day, to practise with the voice,
producing a series of tones and inflections, so as to
develop and acquire complete control of it; and also
to practise, before a mirror, the art of showing various
emotions by means of facial play. One of his tasks.

32 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

enjoined by liis mother, and emblematic of all, was to
tell, by flexibility of expressive feature, the story of
the experience of a child who has been promised the
pleasure of a drive in the park, on a summer morn-
ing, in case the weather should prove fine. The cliild
stands at a window, eagerly looking for the carriage,
which, presently, to his great joy, arrives. Then the
clouds gather and the sky is darkened. Then the rain
begins to fall; the carriage is dismissed and driven
away; the scene becomes cheerless; there can be no
drive; disappointment has intervened, and joyous
expectancy is changed to rueful grief and reluctant
submission. Then, slowly, the clouds drift away;
sunshine floods the air ; the carriage returns ; the world
is bright again; and the child is happy. All that
was to be indicated, in the face, by continually chang-
ing expressions. Other stories were invented, to be
told in the same manner: obviously an ingenious and
excellent method of developing and guiding the
dramatic instinct.

The birth of Mansfield occurred at Berlin, Ger-
many,— his parents having arrived at that city, in the
course of their travels, — in 1854. Since his death
the year of his nativity has been variously stated.
He more than once mentioned to me the correct
date, and the following letter that he wrote confirms
the information:

BIRTH AND AGE 33

Private Car 403. Buffalo.

February 26, 1906.
My Dear Winter: —

... I have made the announcement of my retirement in three
years — if all goes well I shall then be a wealthy man (as we
professional men go), and there will be no necessity to keep up
this awful and incessant high pressure. ... I cannot expect to
retain forever what powers I possess, or to draw the people,
and big productions year after year would finally result in
impoverishing me. Also I begin to feel, in no small degree, the
strain. Three years from now I shall be 55, (confidentially),
and that is time to stop and enjoy life a little. At present it is
all work — monotony and loneliness (which people are unable to
understand). . . .

I hope to be able to produce "Macbeth" next year. Do you

know } Could she play Lady M .f*

All my love to you !

Richard.

Mansfield came of an artistic lineage and he was
an artist by inheritance as well as by education.
His maternal grandfather, Joseph Kudersdorff, was
a musician of fine ability and of distinction, and
also he was a man of erratic character. In speak-
ing of liim to me Mansfield said that he was promi-
nent as one of the earlier conductors of musical
festivals at Norwich and Worcester, England, and
that some of his musical compositions, which were
much admired, had been ascribed to Mendelssohn.
Mansfield's father, Maurice Mansfield, an English-
man, possessed of various accomplishments, was
esteemed an able critic of the arts and an expert

34j life of MANSFIELD

player on the violin. He died in 1859, when his
boy Richard was only five years old, and was buried
in Kensal Green Cemetery, London. The infant
Mansfield, whose parents resumed travelling soon
after his birth, was carried from Berlin to the
island of Heligoland, a casual mention of which cir-
cumstance caused the incorrect statement, frequently
published during his lifetime, that he was born
there. He told me that, a fierce storm arising, as
his parents were embarldng to leave that island, he was
forgotten and left in a bureau drawer, which had been
utihzed as a cradle for him, and that, after his father
and mother had gone aboard the ship, he was rescued,
wrapped in an oil-skin, and carried in a small boat to
the vessel. That tale he must have derived from his
mother, and probably it is true, — for the eccentricity
of that singular woman had no limit. From Heligo-
land he was taken to England. During liis boyhood
he sometimes dwelt in London; sometimes in Jena,
Germany; sometimes, as he told me, with his grand-
father Rudersdorff ; and he had singular incidents
to relate of his juvenile experience, — incidents
which, in famihar conversation, he would recount
with caustic, satirical comment, and in a character-
istic vein of grim, whimsical humor.

The treatment accorded to him in cliildhood and
youth seems to have been, for the most part, harsh

/^/ ;'^>^7^ ^^ /^^r^^y^ -^ ^^ «^

y^iy ^<t^y^^ nc^^^^e^jf ''<^^^ff<^

FACSIMILE OF MANSFIELD'S NOTES FOR THIS "LIFE"

A TROUBLED CHILDHOOD 35

and injurious. His mother had sporadic moments
of maternal tenderness, but from the first she was
capricious and exigent, and he lived more or less at
odds with her. His singularity, liis precocity, and
his exceptional talents, — early displayed, — no doubt,
at times, pleased her; but she was unstable and
of many moods; capable of affection, capable also
of severity. Originality of character or superiority
of mind asserting itself in childhood, sometimes
offends more than it pleases, — as shown so well
in the novel of "Jane Eyre." Mansfield, dis-
tinctively original and peculiar, in maturity as well
as in youth, inspired aversion in the minds of per-
sons who could not comprehend him. An Eng-
lish governess, in whose charge he was at one time
placed, when a child, seems to have been especially
unkind to him. Indulging in reminiscence, he
afforded to me an instructive glimpse alike of his
boyhood and his character. "I was," he said, "some-
times obliged to go into a garden where there were
several large rooks. I was dressed in kilts and short
socks. I had been warned, with a threat of severe
punishment, not to molest those birds, no matter what
they did ; and they were very vicious. Why it should
have been so I don't know, but I seemed to inspire
those feathered devils with as much dislike as ever the
Boston critics felt for me. They seemed to know

36 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

that I could not defend myself, and they would croak
with delight the moment they saw me, and would
flutter about me, pecking my bare little legs, until
the blood ran, or until I ran away howling. Mine
was a hard life when I was a child. Sometimes I
was scolded, sometimes beaten, and sometimes
starved. Whatever I was meant to be, God knows
it is not strange if I am what they call 'singular.' I
sometimes think that the early wrench given to my
mind by such treatment was the beginning of the
sympathy I feel with such persons as GWster and
Chevrial. They are wicked, but they are courageous;
they have seen the selfishness of the world, — and
they go on! What they get they compel; the recog-
nition they receive is for what they do for them-
selves; they are always lonely; they look through the
motives of all around them, and no wonder they are
cynical and cruel. There are times when I feel so
barred out by the world, and so hated, that if I
could push down the pillars of the universe and
smash everything and everybody, I'd gladly do it!"
That indicates only one of his many and chang-
ing moods. As to the proceedings of those -sacious
birds: any person who, reading these lines, may
chance to remember the huge, villainous rooks that
formerly used to pervade the court-yard of the
Tower of London, and, perhaps, are there now, will

RICHARD AND FELIX MANSFIELD

{About 1862)

AT DERBY SCHOOL 37

easily understand that the cliild had grave reason to
dread his feathered foes.

In boyhood Mansfield received some tuition, at
Jena, Yverdon, Bourbourg, and Berhn, and finally at
Derby, England, where he was treated with much
kindness by the head master. Rev. Walter Clarke.
That kindness he never forgot. His affection for his
old teacher was constant and it was often mani-
fested. Indeed, one of the most winning traits of
Mansfield's character was fidelity of remembrance of
kind treatment. Once, when I was about to sail
for England, he gave to me a letter of hearty com-
mendation to that good friend of his at Derby, urging
me, at the same time, to visit the school and deliver
an address on Acting: and, he added, "Tell them
something about 7ne. I was not very happy in Eng-
land, when I played there; but at the school they
treated me kindly, and I would like them to know
that one of their 'old boys' really is doing something,
— even though he had not much honor in London."

A glimpse of ISIansfield's boyhood is afforded
by the following letter, written by my old friend,
the genial, accomplished Patrick Sarsfield Gilmore,
— a letter published by me, many years ago, in "The
New York Tribune," of the staff of which news-
paper I was a member, as dramatic editor and critic,
from July, 1865, to August, 1909.

38 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

I have known him (Mansfield) since he was a youth, at
his motlier's home in London, and it was no surprise to me
when I heard of his success on the stage, in "A Parisian
Romance" first, and afterward in "Prince Karl." The son of
such a mother could scarcely be anything except a genius. She
was a magnificent woman and a great artiste; a dramatic singer
of superb power and skill. When I was seeking artists for the
Boston Jubilee, in 1872, Mme. Rudersdorff was recommended to
me as the best exponent of oratorio singing, and I found her a
superb artiste. She filled my idea of queenliness. The Ruders-
dorff method in singing is still in vogue. I was at her home in
London, where she lived in splendid style and entertained lav-
ishly. Richard was only a boy then, but he was bright as you
find 'em, and it was no surprise to me that he shot out like a
meteor and dazzled New York when he got the chance. His
road to success was not an easy one, however. One would
think that, with an artiste mother, the stage would be thrown
open to him, but it was not. Mme. Rudersdorff, who was a
Russian, while Richard's father was an Englishman, had no
idea of devoting her son to art, but designed him for mer-
cantile pursuits, and, having settled in Boston, he began dab-
bling in drawing and painting, and showed so much talent
that his mother sent him to Europe (1877) to pursue his art
studies. The stage was his fate, however, and he spent more
time in the foyer than in the studio, and finally determined to
adopt the profession. His mother so strongly opposed this new
venture that she cut off his allowance, and he was adrift in Lon-
don, without any one to depend upon. He stayed there two
or three years, with the entree to good society, and with devilish
little in his pocket. He has told me that, some days, about all
he ate was what he got from the "spreads," at receptions and
parties. He is a capital entertainer, though, and was in demand.
One of his most intimate friends was a son of Hepworth Dixon,
who did him several good turns. He got him into the company
of a popular entertainer. Stage-fright and discouragement got

BROUGHT TO AMERICA 39

the upper hand of him, and he failed. He was bounced.
D'Oyly Carte had a competitive examination for a comic opera,
to play the provinces in "Pinafore"; Mansfield tried for the
Admiral's part. Gilbert and Sullivan and several celebrities
were present at the examination, and when it came Mansfield's
turn to sing he said he would sing a duet, and he did. He sang
a soprano and barytone duet, and they kept him singing and
imitating for half an hour. Carte had the part fixed for a
friend, but a countess, who had been an intimate friend of
Richard's mother, interposed on his behalf, and obtained him
the place. It was worth $15 a week, and he kept it until he
struck for higher wages. That was treason! Then he went
to New York, and — I guess you know the rest.

About 1872-73 Mansfield was brought to Amer-
ica, his mother having established her residence in
Boston and bought a farm at Berhn, near Fitch-
burg. There he passed his youth, — sometimes at his
mother's city home ; sometimes at her rural man-
sion, an abode which the singer had adorned with
many works of art, the garnered treasures of her
active professional hfe; and sometimes in lodgings,
when domestic dissension had become unendurable.
The country house, with all the precious possessions
that it contained, was, in 1881, destroyed b^^ fire, —
thought to have been the work of an incendiary,
in malicious resentment of some offense given by
the owner. The education of JNIansfield, though
capriciously bestowed, was not neglected. At first he
studied the art of painting, and, for a time, he tried

40 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

to practice it; but as a painter he was not suc-
cessful. His fondness for that art, however, always
endured, and in after life he applied his practical
knowledge of it with much advantage, alike to the
pubhc and himself, in the vocation of the stage.
For a short time he worked as a clerk, obtaining
employment in the mercantile house of Eben D.
Jordan, once a wealthy and prominent merchant,
of Boston, who cordially liked him, and who always
continued to be his friend; but that occupation
soon grew distasteful to him, and he discarded it.

Meanwhile he had joined a dramatic society
called "The Buskin Club," — thus evincing his
juvenile predilection for theatrical pursuits. There
is, among his papers, a record of his ha\dng, at the
age of fifteen, performed, — December 23, 1869, —
in amateur theatricals, at the school at Derby,
England; but his first considerable attempts at
acting were made in Boston, when he was associ-
ated with "The Buskin Club." On February 9,
1876, at the Boston Globe Theatre, that society
gave an afternoon performance, for the benefit of
local hospitals, of T. W. Robertson's fine comedy
of "School," — Mansfield appearing in it, as Beau
Farintosh. The performance had already been
given, in a semi-private way. About the same time
Mansfield gave a miscellaneous entertainment, at

BEGINS ACTING 41

a public hall, incidentally impersonating Vincent
Crummies J the caricature of the "barn-storming" tra-
gedian, drawn by Dickens, in "Nicholas Nickleby,"
and embellishing liis monologue with mimicry and
song. At one of his performances his mother was
present, and she expressed the crisp opinion that her
son was "making a fool of himself." Notwithstand-
ing that she had trained her son in musical and
dramatic expression, she was desirous that he should
not adopt the profession of the stage. It is the
common error of parents to suppose that they can
live the Hves of their children as well as their own.
The elder Booth, for example, strongly objected
to the adoption of the stage by his son Edwin,
who, nevertheless, persisted in his course, and so
became not only an illustrious leader but a great
public benefactor. If the wish of Mansfield's mother
had prevailed, the American Theatre would have
lost one of the most brilliant figures by which it has
been adorned in our time. JNIansfield was not dis-
couraged by the maternal disapprobation. While
his mother censured, his comrades applauded, nor,
as he was young and abounding in life and hope,
can it reasonably be supposed that he lacked a
consoling measure of his own approbation. The
spell of the Theatre was potent upon him, and per-
suasive incentives to its pursuit could not have

42 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

been wanting. Boston, which during many years
had been a thriving theatrical city, was especially
so in that period. Much fine acting was to be
seen there, in those days; — at the Museum, where
that great comedian William Warren nobly main-
tained the authentic traditions of the stage; at the
Boston Theatre, where Edwin Booth, Joseph Jeffer-
son, and other actors of a high order customarily
appeared; and at the Globe Theatre, which had been
auspiciously established for the fulfilment of the
best ideals; — and Mansfield, it is certain, improved
the opportunity of seeing it. The wonder is that
he should have been, for an instant, diverted, as
then he was, from the adoption of the stage. The
hour of his choice, however, was yet to come.

II.

1877 TO 1883.

In 1877 Mansfield left Boston and returned to
London. He had grown weary of the restraints,
annoyances, and dissensions incident to close per-
sonal association with his eccentric mother, and he
wished to find freedom in a society more congenial to
his taste than that by which his youth had been sur-
rounded. His declared purpose was to study and
practice the art of painting. In London he opened
a studio. The productions of his brush, however,
were not remunerative, and but for a regular allow-
ance of money that he received from his mother
he would have had no assured means of subsist-
ence. The inclination for a stage career, always
strong in his mind, now became irresistible, and
he determined to be an actor. Once, in conversa-
tion, adverting to those early days, he told me that
he found an opportunity of public appearance at one
of the Music Halls, to "do a musical turn," and
that he went on, and talked and sang, under the
designation of TJie Ravishing Roach: also he said
that he tried to perform, one evening, in place of

43

U LIFE OF MANSFIELD

Corney Grain, — who had been taken ill, — ^in the
entertainment given by Mr. and Mrs. German Reed
(Priscilla Horton), at the Gallery of Illustration,
but he was so overcome by trepidation and physical
weakness that he utterly failed. Corney Grain,
whom I very pleasantly remember, was one of the
most droUy eccentric of men, having the lank figure
and thin visage of Don Quixote^ and also his kind
heart, and he was a remarkably clever actor; so
that the task of filling his place might well have
discomfited a novice. Other and more serious
reverses followed. As soon as his mother became
aware of his theatrical proceedings she stopped his
allowance, and he was reduced to such poverty that
he had to resort to the expedient of giving
entertainments at private houses, as an incident
to festive social occasions. That experience of
hardship was afterward skilfully utilized by him, in
his touching play of "Monsieur," the leading char-
acter in which, Andre de Jardot, is a young musi-
cian, of fine talents and elegant manners, impov-
erished and starving, in New York. Mansfield
nearly starved, in reality, in London, for, strange
to say, he could not obtain regular employment,
and, — which is not strange, — he sedulously kept from
his acquaintances all knowledge of his destitution.
A friend of liis, Mr. Wilham Dixon, a talented and

RICHARD MANSFIELD

{About 1S77)

FIRST REGULAR ENGAGEMENT 45

popular young man, son of W. Hepworth Dixon,
editor of "The London Athenaeum," had already
commended him to various acquaintances, including
several theatrical managers, and so it happened that
presently he obtained an engagement to appear in
comic opera, under the management of D'Oyly
Carte, who chanced to be organizing a company
to traverse the English provincial towns. That
quizzical musical satire, "Pinafore," was then new
to the theatre, and Mansfield had the good fortune
to be cast for the part of Sir Joseph Porter, K.C.B.,
in the performance of which he displayed signal
talent. That was the beginning of his regular pro-
fessional career.

The preliminary or novitiate part of that career
presents no aspect of special interest. Mansfield
was subjected to the same trials and he passed
through the same ordeal of vicissitude to which all
actors are subjected who begin in poverty and are
obliged to endure "the slings and arrows of out-
rageous fortune" and to make their way by their
strength. Theatrical biography becomes monoto-
nous in its recital of the afflictions to which strug-
gling genius is almost invariably subjected at the
outset of its pilgrimage toward the temple of fame.
Mansfield, although he was strongly addicted to
talking, and to writing letters, about himself (he

46 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

wrote several hundred of such letters to me), did
not say much that was novel about his tours of
the provincial towns of Great Britain, from the time
when he joined D'Oyly Carte's travelling company
to the time, 1882, when he returned to America. His
first engagement with Carte lasted about one year.
Then, having committed the sin of asking for an
increase of salary (a sin that Mr. Gilmore ironically
describes as "treason"), he was discharged by the
manager, and he went back to London and to "hard
times" in that capital, — perhaps the worst place on
earth for any person to abide in who is poor. A
period of pressing hardship followed, but late in
1879 he was again employed by D'Oyly Carte,
and, beginning at Bristol, December 10, as Sir
Joseph Porter, he made another tour of the prov-
inces, performing in comic opera. At Paignton,
in Devonshire, on December 30, he appeared as the
Major General, in "The Pirates of Penzance," then
first produced; a trial representation and for the
estabhshment of copyright : the first regular perform-
ance of that piece, now so well-known and popular,
occurred at the Opera Comique, London, April 3,
1880: it was acted in New York on December
31, 1879. In Mr. Carte's company and during the
season of 1879-'80 he visited, among other places,
DubHn, Cork, Belfast, Liverpool, Manchester, Bir-

1©TAL-, BIJOT" THlAflE,

ZP^IO-lsTTOIN".

F <> I! () y E l> A Y O y L Y .

TUESDAY. DECEMBER 30th,

AT TWO O'CLOCK.

A.N KNTIKEI.V .NEW .'\ND OKIGINAI,

By Messrs. W. S. GILBERT and ARTHUR SULLIVAN, entitled

THE PIRATES OF PENZANCE,

OR I^OYE AND DUTY

Being its first production in any country.

.Mk. RICH.^RD .\1.-\NSFIELD

Mr. FEDERICI

Mr. CADW.-^LADR

Mah

K-Gt

ERAL...

The
Frei

PiRAT

E Kino
(a Pirate)

Ruth (Fredericl<'s Nun

ACT I.
ACT 11.

Mb. BILLINGTON

Miss PETRELLI

Miss MAY

Miss K. NEVILLE

Miss MONMOUTH

Miss l-'ANNY HARRISON

Sofa Stalls, 3 - ; Second Seats, 2/- ; Area, i - ; Gallery, 6d.

TICKETS TO BE HAD AT THE GERSTON HOTEL.

Conductor, .Mr. Ralph Hornkr. .Acting Manager, .Mr. Herrkri Bkuok.

PLAYBILL 0¥ "THE PIRATES OF PENZANCE"

ACTS IN LONDON 47

mingham, Leeds, Newcastle, and Edinburgh, singing
and acting in "Pinafore," "The Pirates of Pen-
zance," and as J. Wellington Wells, in "The
Sorcerer." In 1881 he returned to London and
obtained an engagement at the Globe Theatre,
appearing there, April 16, as Coquehert, in the comic
opera of "La Boulangere," adapted from the French
by Mr. H. B. Farnie. That piece failed, notwith-
standing that the music for it had been composed
by Offenbach. It was in this opera that Mansfield
first introduced his clever comic imitation of a
quarrel between representative singers, — prima-
donna, tenor, and bass, — an expert, ludicrous, feHci-
tous satire, which, elaborated and pohshed, he sub-
sequently used with excellent effect, in the play
of "Prince Karl." On October 8, 1881, he appeared
at the Royalty Theatre, under the management of
Mr. Alexander Henderson, acting Monsieur Phillipe,
in a play called "Out of the Hunt" adapted by
Messrs. R. Reece and T. Thorpe, from the French
original, "Les Demoiselles de Montfermeil," by
MM. Theodore Barriere and Victor Bernard. On
November 12, at the same theatre, he acted Her-
bert Colwyn, in "Dust," Mr. Sydney Grundy's
adaptation of the French play of "Le Point de
Mire," by MM. Labiche and Delacour. Both those
plays were failures, the latter having been acted

48 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

only seven times. On December 26 a play called
"The Fisherman's Daughter," by Mr. Charles Gar-
vice, was produced at the Royalty Theatre, and
Mansfield acted in it, as Old Sherman, — among
his professional associates then being Frederick
A. Everill, one of the most accomplished and pro-
ficient of the actors of that period, whom it was a
privilege to see and whom it is a pleasure to remem-
ber. With the Royalty Theatre Mansfield con-
tinued to be associated until April, 1882, when he
went to the Comedy Theatre, to play a minor part
in M. Audran's bright opera of "The Mascotte,"
with which that house had been opened, on October
15, 1881. Adverting to Mr. Farnie and JNIr. Hen-
derson, with whom he had been associated at the
Globe and at the Royalty, Mansfield, long after-
ward, talking with me, expressed strong aversion,
and it is not improbable that those persons con-
siderably contributed to the discomfort of his pro-
fessional experience when he was striving to make
his way in London at that time. In the summer of
1882, acting on the advice of his staunch friend,
Eben D. Jordan, he left London and estab-
lished his residence in New York. On September
27, that year, he appeared at the Standard Theatre
(afterward the Manhattan, demolished in 1909)
as DromeZj in "Les Manteaux Noirs," and on

Si^ h^4^ ^^ . ^^' ^' ^^

MANSFIELD AS SIB JOSEPH PORTER
From a Pen and Ink Sketch by Himself

NEW YORK AT LAST 49

October 28, on the same stage, he appeared as Nick
Tedder and as Jan Vedder, in a musical version of
the old play of "Rip Van Winkle." Later he was
seen, in those characters, in Philadelphia. On
December 18 he acted in Baltimore, appearing as
the Lord Chancellor, in the opera of "lolanthe."
On December 20 he repaired to New York and
joined the stock company of the Union Square
Theatre, where, as already mentioned, he suddenly
flashed upon pubKc attention as an actor of excep-
tional power, in the part of Chevrial. From that
time until nearly the end of his life he remained in
the almost continuous practice of his profession.

III.

1883 TO 1888.

Mansfield's success as Chevrial was decisive, yet
it did not promote his rapid advancement. "A
Parisian Romance" held the stage of the Union
Square Theatre till April 7, 1883, v^^hen it was taken
on a tour of the country. The season closed on
May 26, in Boston, and Mansfield went to Eng-
land, where he passed the summer. On September
10, having rejoined Mr. Palmer's company, he
appeared in San Francisco, acting there for the
first time, still in the part of Chevrial, The farcical
play of "French Flats" was there produced, on
September 20, and in that he acted Rifflardini.
IMansfield told me that, later, in Chicago, by private
arrangement with another player, he introduced into
that performance the "business," — long afterward
effectively used by him in "Beau Brummell," — of
receiving from another hand several letters, in suc-
cession, smelling of each letter, commenting crisply
on the respective perfumes exhaled by those missives,
and, finally, saying to his interlocutor: "I don't
know what that one is, but it's very unpleasant; you

50

OFFENDS STODDART 51

may read them yourself." The introduction of that
comic "business" without notice except to one actor
who was in the scene with him, wliile it made his
auditors laugh, gave annoyance to some of his pro-
fessional associates, and especially to the older and
more prominent comedian, James H. Stoddart, who,
indeed, formally objected to the innovation, depre-
cating both the irregularity of its employment and
the undue prominence that Mansfield obtained by it.
In the autumn of 1883 Mansfield left the Union
Square Theatre Company, bought the rights to "A
Parisian Romance," organized a company, and, on
December 6, began his first "starring tour," appear-
ing at the Park Theatre, Newark, New Jersey.
In that venture he was partly sustained by his
friend Eben D. Jordan. He did not succeed, how-
ever, and his attempt was soon abandoned. His
next appearance was made at the Madison Square
Theatre, New York, January 31, 1884, in a senti-
mental comedy by Mr. H. H. Boyesen, called
"Alpine Roses," — the love story of two blooming
peasant girls, resident in the mountains of the Tyrol.
IMansfield acted an adventurous nobleman, the Count
von Dornfeldt, who, like the sailor in Dibdin's song,
felt "How happy I could be with either, were t'other
dear charmer away!" That play lasted till April 10.
His proceedings during the rest of that year were

52 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

merely nomadic. On December 18 Lester Wallack
produced, at Wallack's Theatre, a play by Henry
Guy Carleton, called "Victor Durand," and on
January 15, 1885, succeeding Mr. Lewis Morrison,
Mansfield appeared in it, as Baron de Mersac, — a
maladroit rascal, who imperils his safety by his irra-
tional conduct. Mansfield contrived to personate
him in such a way as to suggest sensible motive and
in a specious, plausible manner, and commended
him to sympathy by making him the sincere, impas-
sioned, desperate lover of a woman by whom he is
detested. "Victor Durand" held the stage at Wal-
lack's till February 14. Leaving Wallack's com-
pany, Mansfield then joined a comic opera troupe,
giving performances at the Standard Theatre, where
he appeared as Nasoni, in "Gasparone." In the
spring of 1885 he again visited London, and on
June 22 he there participated, at the Princess's
Theatre, in a private performance of "Gringoire,"
acting King Louis XI. On September 15 the
Lyceum Theatre, in Fourth Avenue, New York,
was opened, under the management of that erratic,
enthusiastic genius and remarkable man, James
Steele Mackaye (1842-1894) with a drama, adapted
from a French original, Sardou's "Andrea," entitled
"In Spite of All." Miss Minnie Maddern, now
(1909) Mrs. Harrison Grey Fiske, finely personated

IN BOSTON AGAIN 53

the heroine of it, and Mansfield acted in it, as Herr
Kraft, a kindly, eccentric man of the world, whom
he made effective by means of half earnest, half
playful cynicism. That drama kept the stage till
November 6 and it was then taken on a tour.
Mansfield left the company in January, 1886, and
accepted an engagement to appear, under the man-
agement of Mr. John B. Stetson, as Ko-Ko, in
"The Mikado," at the Hollis Street Theatre, Bos-
ton, where his exuberant humor, combined with
his brilliant abihty as a musical artist, gained for
him the general admiration and a decided access of
popularity. The impersonation of Ko-Ko was many
times repeated. During that engagement Mans-
field accepted from A. C. Gunter the original draft
of the play of "Prince Karl," and in April the
first production of that piece was effected at the
Boston Museum.

Mansfield, meanwhile, had felt disappointed and
resentful because the general applause for his per-
formance of Baron Chevrial was not immediately
followed by a copious increase of practical pros-
perity; that is to say, of rapid professional advance-
ment and large financial remuneration. His embodi-
ment of Chevrial did, as was ine^^table, increase
his reputation as an actor: in fact, it marked him
as an actor of exceptional abihty and of auspicious

54 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

promise. But it is not possible that a permanent
popular as well as artistic success, can be gained
by the presentment of a character intrinsically repul-
sive, lago would not carry the play of "Othello."
Admiration is often yielded to expert, powerful
embodiments of the theatrical Pescaras, Ludovicos,
and Stukeleys, but not sympathy and not love.
Many persons interested in dramatic art naturally
wished to see Mansfield as Chevrial, because of the
emphatic commendation that had been bestowed
on the technical ability and startling effect of his
performance; but, having once seen him in that part,
few, if any, wished to see him in it again. It was
not until he had appeared in several other char-
acters, and had shown various pleasing and winning
aspects of his nature, that he obtained a place, — in
so far as he ever did obtain it, — ^in the public heart.
That he deserved to obtain it, — ^his complex nature
being rich in kindness, gentleness, charity, sympathy,
and humanity, — ^there is no ground for doubt. But,
while he merited and earnestly craved the affection
of the public, he did not largely inspire it. He was
loved by those who knew him well, in spite of
vexing faults, and because of his intrinsic funda-
mental goodness, but he was not taken to the heart
of the people as Edwin Booth and Joseph Jefferson
were, in America, and as Henry Irving and John

PECULIARITIES 55

Lawrence Toole were, in England. ]\Ioreover, it
happened that his ultimate choice of principal parts
to be represented, — a choice indicative, perhaps, of
an inherent temperamental acerbity, — fell often
upon characters which are, in general, repellent, —
such as GWster, SJiyloch, Hyde, and Ivan, — and
it also happened that, in his professional intercourse
with actors whom he employed, and also in speeches
dehvered before the curtain and remarks published
in newspapers, he sometimes evinced irritable temper.
His petulance, indeed, was momentary. His resent-
ments, generally, were evanescent. His occasional
incivihty toward associate actors was not more harsh
than that of several of the older wortliies of the
Theatre had been. He was not more aggressive
and dictatorial, for example, than JNIacready, For-
rest, Charles Kean, and Barry Sullivan. His
expressions of dissatisfaction relative to the pubUc
and the press were never more explicit than those of
some of his renowned predecessors in theatrical
public life had been, and sometimes they were bet-
ter warranted. But, as he lived in an age of mul-
titudinous newspapers, when even the smallest of
"small beer" was, — as it still is, — conspicuously
chronicled, everything that he publicly said or did,
together with much that he neither said, nor did,
nor ever even thought of saying or doing, was

56 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

recorded and circulated, — diffusing, far and wide,
an impression that he was continually fractious,
combative, sullen, and morose. That was an errone-
ous and injurious impression: but it was enter-
tained by many persons, and it clouded the popular
understanding of him. To the end of his hfe that
cloud was not, within his know^ledge, entirely
dispelled. His professional identification with grim
characters would have been sufficient, in itself, to
vitalize such an error. A few of the parts that he
plaj^ed are sweet and winning, but most of them,
and those especially in which he was most effective,
contain more of repulsion than of allurement, and it
was in the exposition of wicked power more than
in the exercise of pacific charm that he found his
advantage and gained liis renown.

Thoughtful examination of Mansfield's profes-
sional career at once impels inquiry as to the place
in dramatic art that should be allotted to tilings
that are gruesome or terrible, and opens the old, per-
plexing controversy as to artistic use of ugliness
and beauty. In the vast, incomprehensible scheme
of creation evil appears to be as necessary as good
is. If there were not the one there could not be
the other. Life is a struggle between good and
evil, and it is through the \'ictory of good over
evil that everything great and glorious is produced.

RICHARD MAXSFIELD IX 1883

From a Rare Photdf/raph in the Collection of
Evert Jansen Wendell, Esq.

GOOD AND EVIL 57

In what proportion those antagonistic elements
ought to be mingled and contrasted, in a work of
art, dramatic or otherwise, judgment often finds it
difficult to determine. There are, however, cases in
which instant decision becomes readily possible.
Monstrous and hideous things exist, that ought
never to be included or considered in a play for
public presentation. When Cornwall plucks out the
eyes of Glo'ster and casts them on the ground,
exclaiming "Out, vile jelly!" the reader of "King
Lear" is repelled with a sickening consciousness of
disgusting atrocity: the spectator of such a proceed-
ing, seeming to be literal, would be convulsed, not
with terror but with loathing. There must be a
limit somewhere. Unmitigated horror or mon-
strosity is absolutely barren of valuable result. One
of the best examples of the wrong use of evil, in
a play, is "Titus Andronicus," — that sickening rag
of pollution attributed to Shakespeare. One of the
best examples of the right use of evil in a play is
the melodrama of "The Lyons Mail." Mansfield
presented controversial examples, in Jehyll and
Hyde, in Ivan, in Rodion, and in Nero; but it was
not to be reasonably expected that those present-
ments, however finely displayed, would enhst the
affection of mankind.

The interval between Mansfield's striking achieve-

58 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

ment as Chevrial and his more determinate suc-
cess as Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, — a period of
upwards of four years, extending from January,
1883, to the autumn of 1887, — was one of incessant
effort and continuous activity, but it was entirely
formative. His fortunes fluctuated, being some-
times propitious and sometimes adverse. The part
of Prince Karl, which he acted for the first time
on April 5, 1886, at the Boston Museum, although
he did not highly value it, either then or later, helped
to advance him in public favor. From May 3 to
August 14, 1886, he acted at the Madison Square
Theatre, New York, giving 117 successive per-
formances of that part. It was not, however, until
he had made a decisive hit with the drama of "Dr.
Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" that he gained an authorita-
tive position in the broad field of theatrical enter-
prise, and at last was able to assert himself in active
competition with the potential leaders of the stage.
That play was first presented on May 9, 1887, at
the Boston Museum, and in the following autumn,
after it had undergone severe revision, it was brought
out, September 12, at the Madison Square Theatre,
New York. Mansfield's New York engagement,
that year, began on May 30 and ended on October 1.
The opening play was again "Prince Karl," but,
though cordially received, it did not continue to be

HIS FIRST PLAY 59

remunerative and presently he felt the urgent need
of a fresh attraction, — as the following letter,
addressed to me at the time, may signify:

The Victoria, New York,

May 27, 1887.
My dear old Friend: — -

... I am afraid I cannot come to you; I wish I could —
I need an outing. But I am going to ask another favor of
you — I wish you to come to me. In complete despair, and know-
ing that I must have a play at once, I have sat down and
written one myself — two acts of it at least, and I want your
judgment and I must have it. I must see you to-morrow, Satur-
day, evening, or on Sunday. Pray do this for me. Perhaps the
best way will be to come and dine with me to-morrow or Sun-
day, eh.'' Of course I do not intend to let my name be men-
tioned in connection with the work, even if you think well of it.

Yours always,
Richard Mansfield.
W. W.

The play thus suddenly devised was soon com-
pleted, and on July 11 it was acted under the name
of "Monsieur," Mansfield appearing in it as Andre
de Jadot, and giving a bright, cheery performance,
marked by characteristic touches of pathos and
humor. He did not lack sympathy and encom'age-
ment, in the fulfilment of his task.

Victoria Hotel, July 7, 1887.
My Dear Winter: —

Thank you very much for your kind letter; it cheered me.
This weather and the constant strain is telling. I should not

60 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

be human were it not so. I am compelled, alas, to produce
"Monsieur" next Monday. The people are thoroughly tired of
"Prince Karl," and I do not blame them. I have been careful
to take your advice and have called the play "a sketch in three
acts" — it rehearses fairly well and I think it will hold the
boards comfortably until the production of "Dr. Jekyll and
Mr. Hyde," after which I hope never to have to return to
trash again. Sunday evening next at seven o'clock we are to
have our dress rehearsal! how would it suit you to come and
see that, and avoid the crowd on Monday? Although, frankly,
I would like you to come both on Sunday and Monday. ... It
is terribly hard work in this summer weather — this endeavor to
draw people into the theatre and when they do come I am
astounded at their idiocy — and here I am asking you to do it!
Well, at all events, you will know that I appreciate the size of
the sacrifice. I have many things I wish to ask you. One is
about Henry Dunbar. Try and come up to town, if not Sunday,
surely Monday, and stay here afterward for your supper and a
bed — you shall have the coolest bed in the house but the warm-
est reception. . . . God bless you, dear old man — think of me
as dropping, dropping, dropping gradually away and trickling
off to join the great sea.

Always yours,

Richard Mansfield.

His intention that the authorship of "Monsieur"
should not be made known was soon defeated.
There was, indeed, no reason why he should have
wished to keep it secret; but it was one of Mans-
field's peculiarities that he shunned publicity as
author, or even part author, of some of the most not-
able and effective works with which, as an actor, his
name was associated. The play of "Monsieur," while

JEKYLL AND HYDE 61

artificial and improbable, is a clever sketch, and on
the occasion of its presentment at the Madison
Square Theatre it pleased considerable audiences
for more than two months.

The Westmoreland^ New York,

August 29, 1887.
My Dear Winter: —

I am sorry you had to run away the other evening, and I am
sorry you were not feeling well. I hope it wasn't owing to the
moments you spent listening to "Monsieur"? By the way, I
have cut out the imbecile monologue — coute que coute, I will
never do it again — I hate, loathe, and abhor it! I cannot tell
you how much you have cheered me. I hope to see you very
soon. Dr. J. & Mr. H. is underlined for the 12th.

Yours always,

Richard Mansfield.

During the period that intervened between the
production of "Monsieur," July 11, and the pro-
duction of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," the work
of revising the latter play and preparing it for
presentment largely occupied liis attention. The
first draft of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" had been
made for him, more or less under his immedi-
ate advisement, by Thomas Russell Sullivan. The
play had not entirely pleased his audience in Bos-
ton, yet he had faith in it and was resolute to push
it to a further trial. He earnestly wished and
requested that I should advise him as to the re\'ision
of it, prior to its presentment in New York, and

62 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

various letters on that subject passed between us,
and occasionally we met and conferred about it.
He was exceedingly anxious at that time, being
wishful not only for immediate practical success, —
as he was paying rent for the Madison Square
Theatre at the rate of $21,000 for four months, —
but to build a strong repertory, with a view to the
future. Some of his letters are pathetic in the
denotement of his restless spirit and perplexed
mental condition, and all of them are instructive
in their revelation of his character; his variability;
his weakness and his strength; and particularly
his determination to excel. As the time drew near
for the fresh venture with Jekyll and Hyde his
anxiety steadily increased: success in that dual per-
sonation meant everything to him, for, already, he
was meditating an English expedition as well as
the American tour.

The Westmoreland, August 4, 1887.
My Dear Winter: —

I sent you a note by messenger yesterday, immediately upon
receipt of your kind letter — so as to save you, if possible, the
trouble of coming to town. It is strange that as you did come
you should have missed me. I was here all the afternoon and
it appears you did not call until then — probably the people
in this house whom you saw were unacquainted with my name.
However, I am very, very sorry not to have seen you. I have
been sick, for the last three days, and almost unable to act —
the intense heat — the horrible stench from the open roads (what

CONTINUAL LABOR 63

an outrage it is !) and the hard work have contributed toward
this result. I am absolutely fit for nothing. My new rooms
are very pleasant — they are quiet and I am partially obtaining
the rest I need. I am wondering now — when shall I see you?
No doubt you are disgusted and won't try again. I ought
to come to you — but I cannot for I haven't the time; my busi-
ness in the morning and my acting at night take up most of
my time. Still I should much like to see you, there are so
many things I wish to say to you.

Yours always,

Richard Mansfield.

It is indicative of Mansfield's ceaseless activity
that the labor of acting and singing at night, revis-
ing and rehearsing a new play by day, and attending
to miscellaneous business were insufficient to satiate
his industry. He now resumed the study of the
Emperor Nero, and urged the dramatist whom he
had employed to hasten the completion of a play on
that character.

The Westmoreland, August 16, '87.
My Dear Winter: —

I hear nothing from you and I am so overworked I cannot
come to you — I am compelled to rehearse "Dr. Jekyll and Mr.
Hyde" and to have it ready, for as soon as the active opposi-
tion of the reopened theatres commences I may find my patron-
age not so large. It is also necessary now for me to play "Dr.
Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" here in September, as I have accepted a
fortnight at the Chestnut Street Theatre, in Philadelphia, in
October. I shall confine myself to three plays, "Dr. Jekyll
and Mr. Hyde," Chevrial, and "Monsieur," — discarding the
stupid "Prince Karl."

Russell Sullivan is at work for me, on "Nero." He has

64, LIFE OF MANSFIELD

two Italian plays and a French play to assist him.
I shall make my Nero largely humorous. I like the
character — it affords me an opportunity for just the blending
of serious — the tragic and the comic, which I intensely like.
Our rehearsals are always at 12.30. What do you say to
attending a rehearsal — and we can make such alterations as you
suggest the better then — and you too can judge better with the
whole thing displayed before you in that way. It is asking a
great deal, but it is your own fault if I feel that I can never
offend you by asking much from you. Name your own day —
and you will understand, of course, that our rehearsals are
absolutely private and free from the intrusion of strangers.

Always yours,

Richard Mansfield.

The Westmoreland,

August 22, 1887.

My Dear Winter: —

How have I offended.^ — or have you not received my letter?

I have been expecting to hear from you. Remember, do, that

this continuous heat — and, alas, my health, have — what shall I

say? rendered me almost incapable of anything but the work

I am forced to do — and so when I would lihe to come to you

I don't. Write to tell me when next you will be in town —

spend the day with me — and I will put off rehearsals and all

else. You must go over "Dr. Jekyll" with me, and there is so

much upon which I need your advice. I am in a horrible

state of uncertainty; come to help me out of it — only be sure

to send me word when to expect you, so that, for Heaven's sake !

I may not be guilty of missing you again. Pray let me hear

from vou at once. »i

^ Always yours,

Richard Mansfield.

It was at all times difficult to make Mansfield
understand that other persons often were heavily

ANXIETIES 65

burdened with exacting tasks and compelled to
be quite as busy as himself. At the first oppor-
tunity, however, I called on him, discussed with him
every detail of the play of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr.
Hyde," and suggested such changes as seemed
desirable. Later I attended a rehearsal of it and
wrote to him additional words of counsel and cheer,
to which he replied:

The Westmoreland, New York,

September 2, 1887.
My Dear Winter: —

Thank you for your kind letter, and thank you again for
coming over here to listen to a dreary rehearsal. Your opinion
has encouraged me immensely and I have not felt down-
hearted since. I have made the changes and adopted the sug-
gestions you make in your letter. Even I have cast Miss Kate
Rogers for the old hag Rebecca Moore. Emma Sheridan is
still too weak to work. . . .

It is quite impossible for me to play Dr. J. & Mr. H. next
Saturday, simply because the scenic artists, although employing
extra hands, can barely be ready by Monday.

The Dress Rehearsal will be on Sunday Evening, and if you
care to come and accept a bed and all else here, you know how
truly welcome you will be !

God bless you, and believe me

Sincerely and always gratefully yours,

Richard Mansfield.

But his anxiety was not allayed. Troubles seemed
to accumulate. The necessity continued for vigilant
thought and strenuous toil. The summer weather

6Q LIFE OF MANSFIELD

was oppressive and exasperating. The members of
his theatrical company, as he satirically advised me,
were as nervous as himself, finding frequent occa-
sion to antagonize each other; so that the time of
preparation for a peculiarly critical ordeal was
anything but tranquil. He made no secret of his
discontent :

The Westmoreland, New York,

Wednesday.
My Dear Winter: —

Another kind note from you. I need it. I am really worn
out. Why are there no competent stage people in this country?
The stage management — the every detail of the production —
even to the purchase of trifles, I have to attend to myself!
I am utterly worn out — for I was tired before I commenced
the summer season. Pray for me! Yes, do come to the Dress
Rehearsal, if you feel like it.

Kate Rogers did not turn out well as the hag, Rebecca, and I
have had to change back again. Harkins is unteachable — he
does what you suggest for a moment, but falls back into his
own style the next. As for myself! — expect little from me
but hard, hard work, for the present. I shall do the best I
can under the circumstances, but my best will be far short of
my own ideal. Let me know when to expect you.

Always yours,

Richard Mansfield.

One incident of a humorous character chanced,
at this time, to intervene, slightly diversifying the
monotonous complexion of care and strife. Robert
Louis Stevenson was in New York in the sum-
mer of 1887, and I learned from Mansfield that

"A BAD COLD" 67

each of them made several ineffectual attempts to
see the other. "It happened that he was not at
home when I called on him," said Mansfield, "and
it happened that I was not at home when he called
on me. At last, one day, I was fortunate, as I
thought. I sent in my name, and a person whom
I understood to be Mr. Stevenson's adopted son
presently appeared, and, after the customary
exchange of civilities, said that Mr. Stevenson
wished to know whether I had a cold, because, if
I had, he could not venture to see me. I told him
to tell Mr. Stevenson, with my kindest regards,
that I had an exceedingly bad cold, which I should
be most happy to communicate to him, and so took
my leave. We did not meet. Later I heard that
Mr. Stevenson had promptly left town — probably
to escape infection, — and me!"

That incident is characteristic of Mansfield's
eccentricity, but no words can express the humor
with which he related it. The following letter, after
mention of friendly counsel as to the production
of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," then imminent,
refers to that occurrence:

My Dear Winter: —

How am I to thank you for your kindness to me ? ! I will
do my best to follow your advice, the wisdom of which I
thoroughly appreciate. You are the only man I can turn to

68 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

for such help. It is impossible to do quite what you say, for
I can only depend upon myself for stage-management.

I have not seen Mr. Stevenson and I do not know him. An
acquaintance of his called at the theatre and asked for seats
for his (Stevenson's) wife and sister, for the first night of Dr.
J. & Mr. H., and said that Stevenson had instantly left town.
It seems, however, that he is a great friend of Mr. Henley's —
a man I do not think I should care for. When are you com-
ing over? Sunday.''

Yours always,

Richard Mansfield.

The production of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde"
was accomplished on September 12, with gratifying
success. Pubhc applause was abundant, and, in
general, the press was favorable, in some cases even
to the extent of enthusiasm. The fulfilment of my
professional duty on the occasion, although a seri-
ous task, was an agreeable one, because it is always
pleasant to see merit rewarded with recognition, to
give praise where praise is due, and to contribute,
though ever so little, to the encouragement of
worthy endeavor and high ambition. The feelings
of the actor, were, naturally, animated, and he was
quick to express them.

The Westmoreland, Tuesday.

My Dear Winter: —

How am I to thank you and what can I say ? ! ! ! How
splendidly you have proved your kindness and your friend-
ship !

Such a criticism — such a magnificent review of my effort

Photoyraph by J. yotman, Boston

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

WEARINESS 69

to please you above all others, is ample payment for all the
work of latter years — it wipes out all disappointments and bit-
terness and above all it encourages — it fortifies me — it makes
me feel that with more hard work in the right direction (and
I do not think you will permit me to go off on the wrong
track) — I may ultimately succeed. I need hardly tell you
what you know and what you meant! that you have to-day done
more for me than any other man alive could do. You have
my heartfelt gratitude and my absolute devotion. I must see
you and speak with you; when and where shall it be?
Yours affectionately and gratefully,

Richard Mansfield.
I understood that you could not come last night and yet I
waited until three o'clock ! Name some night this week and come
to supper — it is the best meal, after all! The work is done and
we draw nearer together.

The first run of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" in
New York lasted only from September 12 to
October 1, when his season ended. The weather was
exceedingly hot, and Mansfield suffered much from
the heat and from the severe strain imposed on his
nervous system by acting the dual part. His
impersonation of Hyde, upon which, at that time,
he customarily expended a disproportionate volume
of physical exertion, greatly exhausted him. Also
his mind was busy with new subjects, and he never
rested, — either then or at any time, much as he
longed for rest, and often as he spoke of it. Here
is an example of the fevered condition in which
he lived and labored, throughout this trying period.

70 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

226 Fifth Avenue, New York.
My Dear Winter: —

Will you name a day (that's a funny way to begin a letter!),
when you think you will have the time and the inclination to
run over "Dr. J. & Mr. H." with me.'' Try and make it soon,
for I must rehearse my people.

I have made the alterations you suggested in the First Act
of "Monsieur," and have also attended to the changes in wig,
dress, etc. I cannot tell you how very glad I am for any
suggestions from you.

What do you say to a week's yachting? I could charter
a yacht, and join it after the play, stay aboard during the
day — what do you say? I am run down — nervous — irritable —
tired, — in fact wretched: it would be wonderful were it other-
wise, with this strain upon me, and this terrible heat — what do
you say.'' Shall I charter a comfortable yacht, and will you
join me for a week.'' Write and tell me at once. And advise
me. Yours always,

Richard Mansfield.

His statement of his condition was not exagger-
ated,— as this letter clearly indicates; and I think
that the inducements offered to join a pleasure trip
are among the most peculiar ever named!

The Westmoreland,

New York, September 22, '87.
My Dear Winter: —

The Doctor warns me that I am threatened with a nervous
disease, likely to endanger my life! I cannot say that I care
much — and in fact I have always shown such remarkable ability
to recover from any drain upon my system, after a few weeks of
rest, that I have no doubt I shall give the Doctor the lie.
However, this "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" is a disagreeable
nightmare to me just now, and when evening comes I assure

DAY DREAMS 71

you I am anything but happy. There can be no doubt that
just at present I am in a very nervous condition. We must be
able to change the bill often — but with dignity and credit to
ourselves — and I feel that "Monsieur/' although well enough
at the time, is not the thing. I must see you and consult with
you over many matters. You know I have absolutely no one —
no one but you — I am forced to appeal to you in all matters
of importance. Can you come to town and if so what evening?
When "Nero" is finished shall we work it over together, and
then will you take a trip to the other side with me and help
me.'* It would be delightful and I have set my heart upon it.
We will take a couple of months or so and knock about Eng-
land. We'll go to the places you love best, we'll see the best
men in London likely to make the proper designs for us, for
the dresses, scenery, and engage the proper people. All this is
in your line and mine and we'll return strong and well and
with something worthy. What do you say.'* In the meanwhile
what can I play that will rest me and yet be good.'' Some-
thing bright, light, airy, exquisite — not necessarily modern?
Let me know when to expect you.

Your sincere and grateful friend,

Richard Mansfield.

Mansfield had determined to win the highest
possible rank in his profession and he was now
concentrating the forces of his mind, and all the
concurrent intellectual and social aids that he could
attract, upon the accomplishment of that purpose.
His summer season had increased his prestige. In
October he began a tour of the country, in order
to earn the money necessary for the prosecution
of his higher designs. The parts upon wliich he
relied were Clievrial, Prince Karl, Andre de Jadot,

72 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde; but he had
resolved on acting Nero^ he had already thought
of adopting Shylock, and, secretly, he was study-
ing Glo'steVj with a view to a splendid revival
of "Richard III." The struggle now began in
earnest, wliich was to grow more and more bitter,
and was to end only, after many victories and
defeats, in premature death. No observer will
rightly appreciate Mansfield's formidable character,
intellectual power, and persistent, tremendous labor,
who omits to consider the theatrical conditions by
which he was then confronted and the obstacles
among which and over which he was obliged to
make his way.

The tide of dramatic affairs, which, since about
1860, had been slowly rising, in both Great Britain
and the United States, was, in that period, as high
as it had ever been, or, probably, as it ever will be.
Actors of the highest order were visible, in consid-
erable number, on both sides of the Atlantic. The
standard of taste was severe. The public, accus-
tomed to superior acting, was so exigent that even
exceptional ability, being generally deemed a mat-
ter of course, attracted no unusual attention. Com-
mercial opportunity was ample, but the obtain-
ment of specific recognition was difficult, — far more
so than it is to-day. Competition was keen and

A GOLDEN TIME 73

rivalry was fierce. The record of the period
glows with illustrious names. Edwin Booth and
Lawrence Barrett had joined their powers and
were acting greatly, in great plays. Augustin
Daly's star was at its zenith. His superb revival
of "The Taming of the Shrew," with the regal
Ada Rehan as Katherine, had been followed by his
beautiful production of "A Midsummer Night's
Dream," in which that great actress dignified the
part of Helena, in association with the noble veteran
Charles Fisher, and the delicate, exquisite comedian
James Lewis. Henry Irving and Ellen Terry,
attended by a superb company, now in America
and now in Great Britain, were on the golden crest
of success, with one of the most varied and opulent
repertories ever formed, — including "Macbeth," "The
Merchant of Venice," "Faust," "OHvia," "Charles
L," "The Dead Heart," "Louis XL," "The Bells,"
and "The Lyons Mail." The lovely Helena Mod-
jeska, in the noon of her genius and beauty, now
alone and now in association with Edwin Booth,
was charming all eyes by her refined and finished
interpretations of some of Shakespeare's loveliest
and greatest women, and also was exerting her
magnetic charm to chasten and exalt the sentimental
drama of France. Jefferson and Florence, great
comedians both, and, in alhance, illustrative of a

74 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

wide variety of talent and a wonderful depth of
feeling and opulence of humor, were cooperating,
in a performance of "The Rivals" which was
supremely delightful. Mary Anderson, at the sum-
mit of her bright career, filHng her tliird English
engagement at Irving's Lyceum, had, with Hermi-
one and Perdita, charmed great assemblies in Lon-
don, and afterward also in her native land. Gene-
vieve Ward, acting Stephanie de Mohrivart, had
exemplified, in comedy, an art that rivalled the
white gleam of ivory, the strength of steel, and
the glitter of the diamond. The inventive, expert,
restless, vivacious spirit of Dion Boucicault flamed
in many places, like Ariel on the haunted ship.
Mrs. Bowers, with her facile art, passionate tem-
perament, and strangely seductive voice, and Fanny
Janauschek, the incarnation of massive tragic power,
had made actual the great queens of a storied
past, so that Elizabeth Tudor, Catharine of Rus-
sia, and Mary Stuart lived again. The great
Italian actor Tomasso Salvini was traversing
America, and everywhere impressing the general
mind by his tremendous personality and superlative
dramatic power, in Saul, Samson, Conrad, Ingomar,
and Niger, the Gladiator. Other accompHshed and
famous Continental actors, — Constant Coquelin,
Jane Hading, Possart, Barney, and Hedwig Nie-

PlKjtoijraph by Lock ami Whitfield, London

TOMMASO.SALVIXI AS OTHELLO

HEIRS OF FAME 75

mann Raabe, — ^were repeating or excelling, on the
American stage, the triumphs they had gained at
home. The handsome, sparkling Fanny Davenport,
the strange, nervous, febrile Clara Morris, and the
dashing Rose Coghlan were in full career and wide
popularity. That perfect comedian John Gilbert, —
not in our day surpassed, if ever equalled, in his
particular line, — was variously visible, sometimes in
"The Abbe Constantin," sometimes in " The School
for Scandal," or, with Jefferson and Florence, in
"The Rivals." Daly had effected his magnificent
revival of "As You Like It," and Ada Rehan was
giving the most brilliant performance of Rosalind
that our stage has known. The British Theatre had
sent to America Charles Coghlan, and Mrs. Lang-
try, Mr. and Mrs. Kendal, Wilson Barrett, — acting
in "Claudian" and in "The Silver King,"— and the
consummate artist Charles Wyndham, acting in
"Wild Oats" and in "David Garrick." Among the
miscellaneous actors of the period, — all able, all
prominent, and all more or less engrossive of the
public observation, — were F. C. Bangs, William H.
Crane, John S. Clarke, Charles W. Couldock,
Mrs. John Drew, Louis James, William LeMoyne,
Milnes Levick, Steele Mackaye, F. F. Mackay,
Maggie Mitchell, Stuart Robson, James H. Stod-
dart, Marie Wainwright, and Frederick Warde;

76 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

while among the leading men, of conspicuous
talent, with whom Mansfield was, necessarily and
unavoidably, compelled to come into professional
contrast and, therefore, more or less sharp rivalry,
were Kyrle Bellew, Maurice Barrymore, John
Drew% J. H. Gilmore, Joseph Haworth, Robert
Mantell, Eben Plymptom, E. H. Sothern, and Otis
Skinner: and not only was there a prodigal opposi-
tion of great professional abihty; the repertories of
the rival actors were, in almost every important
instance, uncommonly rich, including every variety
of drama, from tragedy to farce. Into the popu-
lous, glittering, combative arena thus indicated
Mansfield projected liimself, with an equipment
that mostly consisted of his exceptional personaHty,
resolute will, and insatiable ambition.

Incidents of ^Mansfield's tour, in the season of
1887-'88, plans that he considered, notions that he
entertained or discarded, Hs moods, serious or
humorous, and the varying movements of his ever
active mind are indicated in many letters that he
addressed to me during liis absence, some of wliich
are of sufiicient interest to merit incorporation in
this chronicle of his life. Before he left New York,
in 1887, he had told me of his inclination to attempt
Sliyloch, and had not received much encouragement,
but I had suggested to him, as a good subject for

A BUSY SEASON 77

a play, the story and character of Beau Brummell.
He went to Philadelphia on October 2. The dra-
matic season was one of much activity, and it was
especially signalized by the advent of Henry Irving
and Ellen Terry, acting in "Faust." To those
subjects there are various allusions.

October 6, 1887.
The Continental Hotel, Phila.
My Dear Winter: —

Whilst the "critics" here have been quite unable to say
enough bad about us, the public, thank God, has supported us
as well as they supported us in New York and Boston, and the
financial showing is, therefore, a very satisfactory one, with
all signs of an increasing success. We opened to the largest
first night house of the season and have not fallen ofif since.
Dr. Lamden's attack in "The Times" was quite brutal.

Can you send me an acting edition of "The Merchant of
Venice" with your notes and business marked? Yes? It would
be a great kindness and help me greatly.

I have had to break off here, tired and almost worn out —
the weather has turned very, very warm and my consequent
suffering has been great. I am praying for a change. The
week has closed well and has brought me a handsome profit.
How we shall do this week I do not know. Next week Hooley's
Theatre, Chicago,

Yours always,

Richard Mansfield.

Stillman House, Chicago.

October 24, 1887.
My Dear Winter: —

Thanks for your kindness and your good advice, which I
will endeavor to follow.

78 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

I am glad the books pleased you. I only wish I could do
something worthy of your kindness to me.

We played to very large business last week in Chicago —
against Booth and Barrett, and other strong attractions. I
received a very kind, charming letter from Booth, congratulat-
ing me — so like him. I do not think I shall play Shylock.

O, for a play!

I am tired and have caught cold. When you have time write
to me. Tell me how to map out the four weeks at the Fifth
Avenue Theatre, in New York. We commence December 19.
When does Irving arrive in New York.'' I would like to send
him a word of welcome.

God bless you.

Ever yours,

Richard Mansfield.

Can you tell me what week Irving plays in Boston?

Irving appeared at the Star Theatre, New York,
on November 7 and ended his engagement there on
December 10, appearing in Boston on December 12.
His remarkable presentment of Wills's drama on the
subject of Goethe's "Faust" necessarily received
thoughtful attention.

Pittsburgh, Nov. 9, 1887.
My Dear Winter: —

I have read to-day with keen relish your masterly essay on
Irving's "Faust." I was delighted with the views you express.
I was greatly obliged to you for your telegram which afforded
me the opportunity to send a dispatch to Irving, wishing him all
good things. How much I was delighted with his sweet and
gracious reply I need not tell you.

I am more and more in love with the idea of "Beau Brum-
mell." I have determined not to touch Shylock. If it is pos-

PROJECTS 79

sible to have a play about Brummell I will have it. Tell
me how to set about it? Who will write it for me? Can you
obtain for me a life of Beau Brummell? Probably I could
sketch the scenario myself. Above all I must have all the neces-
sary authorities. May I task your friendship (being in the
land of the heathen and the Turk myself), to obtain these books
for me and to send them, C. O. D.? I am in Baltimore next
week and in Washington the week following. Pray do this for
me!

Sullivan writes to say that he is working hard on "Nero" —
you may be sure I shall do nothing with it until I have sub-
mitted it to you.

I am in doubt about my New York and Boston engagements
and also want your advice upon these points. I have rented
the Fifth Avenue Theatre for four weeks commencing Decem-
ber 19th. What am I to commence with? The week before
Christmas is notably a bad week — I thought as follows: tell me
if I am right?

Week of the 19th, " Monsieur."

Week of the 26th ) ._ _ , ,, . ., tt j »
„ , \ Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,

u an. /J )

Week of Jan. 9th, "Parisian Romance."

What do you say? The reason I place "Monsieur" in the
repertoire for that week is that the week is so bad it will
make little difference what we do — as "Monsieur" is trivial —
light — easy — it will be like a rest for me and it will be better
than doing "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" and jeopardizing the
success by playing to bad houses on the first week.

Boston is equally serious — for, altho' I am rejoiced to think
I shall meet Irving — as an opponent I don't care to face him,
and he comes to Boston on my second week ! I play two weeks
at the Globe Theatre, weeks of Jan. 15 and 23 — on the 23rd.
Irving comes. What am I to do? Write me and advise me.
Business is splendid.

Yours always,

Richard Mansfield.

80 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

With his purpose to act in Shakespeare's "Richard
III." I had, from the first, warmly sympathized,
and it was pleasant now to hear that he was earnestly
preparing himself for that important venture.

St. Nicholas Hotel, Cincinnati,

Nov. 29, 1887.
My Dear Winter: —

What a place this is! — or, rather, what a place this is not!!
It is very horrible, after Washington. I dressed in a filthy,
draughty hole last night. The light man had to hold the moon
in his arms in the second act, and he would wobble it about
and finally fell off the ladder and nearly set the house on fire
with the moon. And I don't think the people like "Jekyll and
Hyde." I heard somebody say, last night, that it is " a hell of
a play" ; and a "gentleman" called upon me and asked me to
visit his house with him, as his daughter was anxious to see
what I looked like, off the stage!

I read about INIr. Irving at the Lambs' Club in the N. Y.
papers this morning. I am glad you were not there — at least
I hope you were not, and you cannot have been, for I do not

see your name. To be wedged in between

and — well, no matter — would not be pleasant. We will have a
few choice and delicate evenings when I am in town — hein?
I have so much to ask your advice upon. I am sorry, very
sorry, and it is very bad for me, but I see no way out of it —
I shall be compelled to play "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde"
December 26, the opening night of Booth and Barrett. It can
be arranged no other way. I have tried to cancel a week but
have failed.

That was a great big week — the last in Washington — and
added another two thousand dollars to my hard earned savings.

I can obtain no definite reply from INIr. Palmer, about the
Madison Square Theatre, but he still holds out hopes — if I

Photograph ly Stereoscopic Company

MANSFIELD AS RICHARD THE THIRD
{Act III.)

VARIOUS PLAYS 81

cannot succeed in having a house in New York what do you
advise? — It seems I shall be compelled to play again all sum-
mer in the city and then make another tour. But with so
much good work that can be well, even finely done, in New
York, it seems idle and stupid to gad about the country.

I have been studying Richard the Third. It will be the great
success of my life when I play it. But I see him quite, quite
differently to what tradition and the modern actor tell us. As
regards the scenery and effects I think too, when I come to chat
it over with you, I shall surprise you, and I hope please
you.

Yours always, dear Winter,

Richard Mansfield.

Louisville Hotel, Louisville, Ky.,

December 7, 1887.
My Dear Winter: —

A thousand thanks for another kind and thoughtful letter
from you. I will do as you wish — altho' as regards plays I
shall have my hands full. "Nero" comes first and then, I
hope, "Beau Brummell," and I intend — this quite positively,
for I have been hard at work on it — to do "Richard III.,"
next season. I will explain my views regarding it when I see
you. I feel very certain that it will be one of the greatest
successes of my life, and you know I do not feel always san-
guine. Of course, this is quite in confidence to you — ^because
I may be laughed at for my pains.

You know how glad I shall be if you will write "Beau
Brummell" yourself — I think you should do it. Dramatic
literature in this country requires such a filip. If things go
right we will go to England together next summer and we will
look up the places and the costumes, we will saturate ourselves
with everything of those days.

I also need sketches — sketches of interiors and exteriors for

82 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

"Nero" — "Beau Brummell" and "Richard III." I think with
those three plays, done as I shall do them — I am not speaking
now of my own poor individual effort — I should be able to hold
the fort for one season ! Anyhow, if the summer is free to me —
you are mine, flesh and bone, and / am the Devil.

Yours always,

Richard Mansfield.

In the course of this tour he acted in Philadelphia,
Chicago, Cleveland, Buffalo, Toronto, Pittsburgh,
Baltimore, Washington, Cincinnati, Louisville, and
St. Louis. On December 19, 1887, he again
appeared in New York, acting at the Fifth Avenue
Theatre, where he remained till January 14, 1888.
Another tour followed, but he was in New York,
for one week, in February, and he returned in June.
The repertory, all the while, remained unchanged, —
"JMonsieur," "A Parisian Romance," "Dr. Jekyll
and Mr. Hyde," and "Prince Karl,"— and by his
earnest, judicious, persistent use of that repertory,
he was able not only to maintain his prestige but to
extend it.

IV.

1888 TO 1890.

Mansfield, at this time, had reached a most
important stage of his professional career. His
immediate attention was fixed upon the enlarge-
ment of his means of appeal, — ^it being his con-
viction that the public is ever craving something
new, and that no actor can long prosper who does
not gratify that solicitude, — but his "darker pur-
pose" was to seek renown beyond the ocean, to act
in London, and to return home a conqueror. With
that intent he determined not only to acquire new
parts, especially Nero, — upon which he had long
brooded, and which, though never popular, became
one of his most characteristic embodiments, — but
to form a strong company and challenge all com-
petitors.

Continental Hotel, Philadelphia,

March 14, 1888.
My Dear Winter: —

You write to me sadly and it makes me sad. I wish I could
do something to cheer you up. I think you need taking away
from yourself for a while. Certainly the best thing you can
do will be to go to England with me. You do nothing but

83

84 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

work and think and think and work, and you expect yet to be
well and cheerful?! I wish I had you with me. Everybody
about me at present is on the verge of lunacy and it is I who
make them so. I think I am a sort of Margrave (in Lytton's
"Strange Story"). Damn this pen! I can't write with it.
However, I think my eccentricities have the effect of keeping
people very much alive — even if mad!

I am studying Nero (also lively !) and I like it. I think
I shall revel in him. I am going to make him a beautiful
demon. Possessed of every lovely physical attribute and the
mind and spirit loathsome only — "a, rosy apple, rotten at the
core," and even that evil spirit much the natural result of his
time and education. A youth of thirty, with golden brown hair
with red shadows in it — a form and face as nearly lovely as I
can cause them to appear, a bounding step, an agile grace and
a winsome, treacherous smile. That's my Nero and I think if
I partly succeed in this appearance only — half the battle's won.
The play is strong but deals only with the latter days and an
episode in the life of the Caesar. At the banquet I cause him to
sing, and the harps to play, and roses will be showered and
garlands twined. Charis, the slavegirl will dance before him,
and, dancing, poisoned, die! But there — I bore you, and we
will read the play together. Again!! Well, will you pass the
day with me on say Tuesday week, March 27.'' I will write no
more now — but be sure to say Tuesday!

Always yours wholly,

Richard Mansfield.

In the spring of 1888, being in somewhat frail
health, it became necessary for me to make a voy-
age, and therefore, rather suddenly, I laid aside the
pen and sailed for England. Mansfield had not
been apprized of my intention to go away, although
his friendly request that I should be his companion

MARINE GREETING 85

in a visit to that country had been decHned. Hence
the following characteristic letter:

N. Y.,
April 23, 1888.
My Dear Winter: —

It was very sad to come home and find that I had missed
seeing you by just one day, and that had it not been for that I
might, at least, have gone on board with you, and wished you
"God speed" — altho' I don't know what particular good would
have resulted from such a proceeding! However, there you are
a-sailing and a-sailing the wide ocean, with a reef in your
mizzen-top and several (let us hope several) main-braces
spliced — and here I am, pegging away at a head wind and a
heavy cross sea, with a bad cold aboard and my scuppers all
stopped up. As I consider this nautical language appropriate,
I hope you will understand it.

Seriously I .diss you, altho' I saw so little of you, but I had
looked forward to this stay in town particularly because I did
hope to see you — and very selfishly, because I had much to ask
of you. I don't wonder you fled, and well may it become you!
I am getting together a strong company, I think a very strong
one, but it is the Devil's own work and fearful are the terms
they all ask, being stars themselves, to support such a poor
thing as myself. However, as it is a question of winning the
battle, I am to lead veterans into the field and shall not trust
to raw recruits — so you may look out for an array of talent. . . .
More of this when it is all certain. I envy you over there.

Remember me affectionately to ISIr. Irving and respectfully
to Miss Terry, and believe me, dear Winter, always devotedly
yours,

Richard Mansfield.

This is written at two a.m., and I am not sure that there

86 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

is much sense in it — but, as it does no harm you might remem-
ber me kindly to everybody!

Boston, May 29, 1888.
My Dear Winter: —

I thank you for your two good letters. I cannot tell you
how much pleasure it gives me to hear from you. I wish I were
with you — we should have a happy time. As it is I shall not
be able to come over until, probably, the end of July. Let me
know if you expect to be in England.''

I have little time to write, for I am very busy — there has
been no day without rehearsals — and I am playing here, in
Boston, eight times a week. So far the engagement has been
successful — very. I close here Saturday night, with what
promises to be an overflowing house — I shall probably have
to speak — but I shall confine myself modestly to "Thank you
and Good-by!" I do not think I could say much of interest to
them here.

Next Monday I open in New York, with "Dr. Jekyll and
Mr. Hyde" — we act four weeks at the Madison Square Theatre,
and I shall do all our repertory, in order to have the people
engaged for England in good working order. ^Vhom to engage
as leading lady I do not know ! Miss Cameron has decided to
go to Paris and elsewhere, for study and for her health. She
goes with Mrs. Stow — you remember Jack!* — his wife. I made
an offer to Miss EfEe Ellsler — but, albeit she is not beautiful,
she also required $400 a week — which I cannot afford to pay.

I purchased a box for the Wallack Benefit and presented it
to John Gilbert and Mrs. Gilbert, Mme. Ponisi, etc. They
were much pleased. Gilbert has since called upon me here, but
I was not in at the time.

You ask me about : I only know him slightly; very

slightly. I enquired about him, however, of some musical friends
of mine and they tell me he is a musician of some ability —
quite a good fellow. A little fast and rather in bad odor with

HENRY IRVING 87

the "Bong-tong" here — which ought to be something in his
favor !

I have only met him at the Tavern Club here, of which he is
a member, I believe. He plays the violin very sweetly. What
I saw of him I rather liked. I remember his being present at
the initial performance of "Prince Karl," and his saying, after-
ward, at the Tavern Club — "Et ees verra beautiful — verra beau-
tiful— but what ees it all about?"; which was "verra" true! I
think he is a Pole, but not a Jew.

You must let me know what your plans are. It is good of
you to interest yourself on my behalf. 'Tis but a poor play, as
you know, and I think you are apt to look with too lenient an
eye upon my shortcomings. I am a damned bad actor, and
somehow I realize it more and more every day.

Pray let me hear from you. Give my heartiest and warmest
greetings to Henry Irving. I do not write to him because I
know how much he has on his mind without being bored by my
nonsense.

Ever — always — ^yours,

Richard Mansfield.

It was characteristic of Henry Irving that he felt
a lively interest in every phase of human activity
and, particularly, that he was sympathetic with every
courageous and novel adventure undertaken in his
profession. No man could be more fervently desir-
ous than Irving was that other actors, supposing
them to be meritorious, should meet with the recog-
nition and practical reward that merit deserves.
He had known and had befriended Mansfield when
that much younger actor was struggling through an

88 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

arduous novitiate in London, and he failed not
to observe, with sympathy and satisfaction, his
intrepid and striking enterprise, as shown in the
choice and practical utilization of "Dr. Jekyll and
Mr. Hyde." Mansfield, in meditating a pro-
fessional visit to London, with his new plays,
believed that if he could successfully appear in
that capital, preferably at the Lyceum, his success
abroad would much accelerate liis advancement at
home. That belief he made known to me, and it
was subsequent to my mention of the subject to
Irving that a correspondence ensued between the two
men, resulting in an arrangement for Mansfield's
appearance at Irving's theatre, in the course of the
season of 1888-'89. It had already been arranged
that Irving, on his return from America, would
make his re-entrance at the London Lyceum on
April 14, and a contract had been made with the
eminent French actress Sarah Bernhardt, providing
for her advent at that house in the following July.
The opening for Mansfield, who, on February 14,
1888, had leased the Lyceum for a period of several
weeks, was assigned for September 4. The prospect
seemed entirely auspicious, and both Irving and
JNIansfield viewed their plan with pleasurable expecta-
tion of a happy result. The way, however, was
not to be smooth. Mansfield's prosperity with "Dr.

SHARP PRACTICE 89

Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" had fired emulation, and as
Stevenson's story of "The Strange Case" was not,
in America, protected by copyright, several plays
on the basis of it were speedily manufactured, in
imitation of Mansfield's drama, — which, as already
mentioned, was to a large extent his own work. One
of those plays was produced in New York, on March
12, 1888, at Niblo's Garden, by Mr. Daniel E.
Bandmann (1840-1905), an actor of considerable
ability and long experience, and that performer
afterward announced that he would proceed with
it to London, intending to present it there, in
advance of Mansfield's arrival. Opportunity in
London, however, is not readily found. The only
theatre that Mr. Bandmann seemed likely to have
any chance of securing for his purpose was one
called the Opera Comique. The situation, of course,
soon became known to Irving, and necessary steps
were immediately taken to command it. A cable
message was sent to Mansfield, advising his pres-
ence in London in season for the making of all need-
ful preparations to appear at the Lyceum early
in August instead of early in September, as first
proposed, and the Opera Comique was leased by
Irving, for a considerable time. I remember the
amused and amusing voice and manner of Irving,
when, on one of Sarah Bernhardt's "Tosca" nights.

90 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

he came into the Lyceum box where I was sitting,
and, showing me a slip of paper, remarked: "I have
protected our friend. I have hired the Opera
Comique, for some extra rehearsals. This is my
receipt. If Mansfield comes over at once, we shall
have no trouble." Mansfield did come over at once.
From June 4 to June 30 he was acting in New
York, at the Madison Square Theatre, but, after
the close of that engagement, and on receipt of
Irving's message, he sailed for England.

It happened that Irving was, at this time, ram-
bling in Cumberland, with friends, — among them
the writer of this memoir, — and Mansfield presently
joined the party, at the cosey old hotel at Patter-
dale, on the shore of Ullswater; and I remember we
sat up all night, discussing his budget of American
news and his plans and prospects for a London
season. The meeting was a delightful one. The
relations between Mansfield and Irving were then
friendly. They did not always remain so. They
fluctuated, considerably; and although, at the last,
the two men remained on ostensibly amicable terms
of social intercourse, the feeling existent between
them was that of disapprobation on the part of
Irving and antipathy on the part of Mansfield. It
is necessary to allude to tliis subject, because those
actors, eventually, became professionally opposed,

HENRY IRVING IN 1888

THE GREEN-EYED MONSTER 91

and because circumstances in the stage career of
Mansfield would otherwise remain unexplained.
The subject, furthermore, is an essential part of
theatrical history, — a record which should tell the
truth, and not be encumbered with sentimental
eulogium and obscuration of facts. Mansfield had
no reason to blame any one but himself for the loss
of Henry Irving's active friendship. It was an
infirmity of his mind that he ascribed every mishap,
every untoward circumstance, every reverse of for-
tune, to some external, malign influence, — never to
any accident, or any error of his judgment, or any
ill-considered act or word, or any fault of his own.
Accordingly, when the total result of his London
ventures had proved disastrous to him, as by and
by it did, he accounted for it by adopting the fan-
tastic, ridiculous notion that Irving, out of jealousy,
had, from the first, intended to ruin him, and by
great social influence and control of the press had
accomplished that purpose. There has been a liberal
superfluity of that kind of reproach against Henry
Irving, in association with the names of several
distinguished actors who have appeared in London
and, according to some of their admirers, have
been dissatisfied with the measure of commendation
there accorded to them; — for example, Edwin
Booth, Lawrence Barrett, Mary Anderson, Helena

92 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

Modjeska, Ada Rehan, and Charles Coghlan. The
disseminators of that frivolous gossip, meanwhile,
have never explained how Irving found time to
attend to liis own complex and exacting business,
while attending so industriously to the destruction
of professional rivals, or how it ever happened that,
possessing such imperial control over the society
and the press of London, he could not avoid occa-
sional disastrous failures and, at times, a newspaper
defamation of his own acting quite worthy of the
pens of Kenrick and Pasquin. The fact is that
Irving earnestly desired that Mansfield should meet
with great success in London, believed that he would
meet with it, and did all in his power to promote
that result.

Two letters that Mansfield wrote to me, one
shortly before and one immediately after the arrange-
ment had been made for his appearance at the Lon-
don Lyceum Theatre, display in a clear light the
respect and affection with wliich he then regarded
Irving.

The Croisic, New York,

January 9, 1888.
My Dear Winter: —

What must you think of me? Here I have been a week and
a half and not a line to you ! Day after day it has been on
my mind, but it is absolutely a fact that I have not had a
moment to collect my thoughts to say a word to you.

"A GREAT, GOOD MAN" 93

I am in the midst of the most important work and projects,
and it is necessary, dear friend, that I should see you.

When can you come to me? I know how busy you are, but
you know also how my work ties me down.

You will be startled, I know, when I tell you what my project
is, and you will, probably, tell me that I am a fool — and, frankly,
I believe I am.

It is good of you to give yourself this trouble for me! Yes,
Henry Irving is a great, good man, and I am entirely devoted
to him. He was charming to me. I received a little book from
him, the other day, which I value highly.

Now, rvhen will you come to me? — can't you make it Satur-
day evening next? For next week, as I play in Harlem, I get
home late.

Always yours.

Richard Mansfield.

The Croisic, New York,

February 17, 1888.
My Dear Winter: —

I expected you to breakfast yesterday and was very, very
much disappointed you did not come. I am off to-morrow, for
many weeks, and do not return here until Holy Week. At
least I hope to see you then.

This is a great thing Irving has done for me — pray God
he sees the good work he intends for me accomplished! But I
am a bad actor, and I feel it more and more every day.

I received three books of yours, from Boston, to-day. A
thousand thanks.

When I return I am to see something of you, am I not? In
the meanwhile, God bless you and keep you. // you see Irving,
tell him horv I feel about this — it is the greatest good thing
a great man ever did for a youngster.
Always yours,

Richard Mansfield.

94 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

After our festal night at Patterdale Mansfield
immediately proceeded to London, to begin rehear-
sals of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde." At first he
lodged at 118 Jermyn Street, "over a hen-shop,"
as by an early post he facetiously informed me: later
he moved to 183 Piccadilly. "I think we are in
a good way," he wrote, "to crush the tragedian
Bandmann. At all events I have the sole rights
to the play, — from the publishers, Longmans, Green
& Company, to whom Stevenson sold Iiis rights.
They protect me and I indemnify them. The same
lawyers who succeeded in the 'Little Lord Faun-
tleroy' case are engaged and very busy. Bandmann
is to be met, and served with papers, upon his
arrival."

Long afterward Mansfield described to me the
call on those publishers that he made, in company
with Irving, to adjust the copyright business.
Irving, who sometimes spoke indistinctly, men-
tioned his name to an elderly clerk who was in
attendance and who neither understood nor recog-
nized him, so that he was obliged to repeat the
name several times. When that dense person had
left the room, to announce the visitors, Irving walked
to and fro, for a few moments, musing; then, turn-
ing to his companion, he said, reflectively: "Mans-
field, I beheve there are some persons who are igno-

AT THE LYCEUM 95

rant of the history of their own times." Irving,
it should be noted, was a figure so universally
known in London that, as a rule, when he happened
to call a cab and wished to go to his residence, all
he said, or needed to say, was "Home."

Mansfield's production of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr.
Hyde" was effected at the Lyceum Theatre on
August 4, 1888. On the morning of that day he
addressed to me the following letter, which indi-
cates the vexations to which he had been exposed
and the obstacles that he supposed to exist. His
notion that rapid changes of scenery could not be
made at the Lyceum Thealre, and were not cus-
tomarily made there, was incorrect. It is possible,
however, that the mechanics, scene-shifters, etc., did
not care to make them for him. Ungenial "Sons
of Martha" do sometimes behave in a peculiar
manner when working for strangers, or for per-
sons whom they do not like.

183 Piccadilly, London,

August 4, 1888.
My Dear Willie: —

Just a line before undergoing execution! I am sorry to say
I am hoarse, very hoarse; how could I be otherwise, with what
I have undergone and the weather we have had?

It would have been quite enough work for any one man to
parry the attacks of Herr Bandmann. He has kept my hands
completely full for the last week. Last night he announced a
full dress rehearsal at the Olympic, and issued over 1,500

96 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

invitations, — all without the consent of the management! Of
course they stopped it, and he then had the audacity to send to
me for permission to give it at the Opera Comique! Of course
we were compelled to decline! All the same, he issued slips of
paper to the crowd which had assembled before the Olympic,
inviting them to the Opera Comique, and he would have forced
his way in, had I not placed commissionaires and police around
the building. Lively, is it not?

I am sorry to say, like all great things and most great men,
the Lyceum is not faultless. I have had, and am having, a hard
time. They are, of course, accustomed to slow work — to taking
months to prepare a play. They do not understand my rapid
methods and swift action. There is no discipline, and crowds of
loafers about the stage, who trip over one another and do noth-
ing. The men are slow to obey and argumentative, and full of
importance and the conviction that they know it all, or, at
least, much better than we do. The company complain of the
darkness of the dressing-rooms and inadequate conveniences,
compared with our American theatres. Scenery which has ar-
rived in St. Louis or Grand Rapids at four in the afternoon, and
been used, without a hitch, at eight in the evening, and without
a dress rehearsal, required all Thursday night, all day Friday,
and a scenic rehearsal which lasted from eight yesterday evening
until two this morning! and was the most imperfect, at that,
it has been my bad fortune to attend.

I am much distressed, very weary, very hoarse, and very
anxious, and I have had too much work and too little play for a
small boy.

God bless you — I shall see you to-night. Pray God, all may
yet go well! Ever yours,

Richard Mansfield.

The legal measures that were taken to protect
Mansfield's rights to the use of "Dr. Jekyll and
Mr. Hyde" proved decisively successful, and Mr.

A FINE START 97

Bandmann's attempt to forestall him was foiled, —
much to the satisfaction of all fair-minded persons.
Mr. Bandmann had falsely proclaimed liimself, in
America, the original representative of Dr. Jekyll
and Mr. Hyde^ — the fact being that Mansfield had
acted the dual part ten months before it was assumed
by any other person. It should also be observed
that the plan, — likewise stolen from him, — of weav-
ing a love-story into the analysis of JehylVs complex
nature, as set forth by Stevenson, was original with
Mansfield, and that it was he who led the way, and
showed other actors how thQ abstruse theme could
be made practically dramatic. Four days before
Mansfield appeared, Irving, who was leaving home,
for a tour in Switzerland, and who had seen a
rehearsal of the play, signified his auspicious view
of our friend's advent at the Lyceum by this mes-
sage to me: "Mansfield will be splendid." That
augury was fulfilled. I remember the occasion as
one of exceptional interest. The audience was
numerous and of a brilliantly intellectual character.
Upon his first entrance Mansfield was welcomed
with two distinct, hearty rounds of applause, and
he was recalled to the stage five times in the course
of the representation. His voice was a little hoarse
and once or twice his movement was slow and arti-
ficial, because of extreme nervous excitement, but

98 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

he acted with intrepid spirit and, generally, with
amazing vigor. The crowning artistic charm of his
impersonation was its preservation of unity. The
two sides of the one nature were clearly shown, —
the concrete result being one man, not two. The
element of terror was made duly prominent, but the
element of pathos was made to exceed that of terror.
Jekyll was invested with poetic sentiment: Hyde
was embodied as loathsome and venomous, but very
awful. Hyde's perception of the invisible ghost of
his murdered victim was made to provide a moment
of truly infernal exultation, and it gave the assem-
blage a thrill of horror. In the scene of the trans-
formation of Hyde to Jekyll JMansfield's splendid
outburst of passion, combined with his startling
demeanor and ever-increasing volume of vocal
power, caused a prodigious effect. Often as he
afterward played that exacting dual part, I do not
think he ever played it in a more inspired mood
than he did on that critical and important night. He
did not win the public heart: hearts are not won
by horrors: but he made it clear that he was a
unique actor and one entirely worthy of Iiigh intel-
lectual consideration.

On the next morning I sent to him this message,
— interesting, perhaps, as conveying first impressions
of a memorable occasion.

CONGRATULATION 99

Hammersmith,

August 5, 1888.
Dear Dick: —

I am off for Scotland. I expect to be absent for about ten
days. I congratulate you on your success. The piece was
thought dreary and tiresome, but you were greatly admired, and
I think the public will grow to be very fond of you. Don't feel
hurt at the criticisms, if any of them are sharp. The Second
Act should be carried more rapidly. Miss Sheridan should be
told to let herself out a bit. The hag needs more effect. There
is a little too much of Jekyll's misery — and misery never was
popular, on the stage, — or off! I wish you would get a new
wig. Fox could make a much better one than that you now
wear. And you ought to make Jekyll a more picturesque fel-
low,— more "taking," — even at a sacrifice of strict correctness.
He is heavy now, at least he was, last night, in act second. Your
first entrance should be made striking, and there the appearance
becomes of vital importance. I was delighted with your first
act and with the scene of the change. Your Speech was in ex-
cellent taste. Miss Cameron played better than ever before,
because so moderate and symmetrical. But tell her to be dis-
tinct and vigorous. She needs great care of her health, —
exercise and good sleep, so that she may not be weak and seem
fragile. I was surprised by the good judgment and the grace
of her acting. Sullivan also was tasteful and judicious.

Ever yours,

W. W.

After one of those Jekyll and Hyde nights he
wrote to me:

. . . Frith, the painter, who remembered my having been to
him once, for his opinion upon some sketches of mine, came to
see me last night — came to my dressing-room, after the play, —
deeply moved and impressed, and said I reminded him of

100 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

Macready! And he thought my voice was finer. He's a bluff
old fellow, and I think he meant it. I am foolish enough to
be quite happy over it!

Always, dear friend, yours,

Richard Mansfield.

On his return from Switzerland Irving attended
a performance of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," and
after it had ended he and Mansfield met, for sup-
per, at the Garrick Club, where one of those trivial
incidents occurred which sometimes are more con-
ducive than acts of positive hostility could be, to
the disturbance of friendly relations between indi-
viduals. Attendance at the Lyceum, large at first,
had begun to dwindle, and Mansfield, dissatisfied
and somewhat depressed in mind, and no doubt
weakened by the prodigious exertions that he had
been making, spoke much of liis discontent and of
the tremendous strain imposed upon him by the act-
ing of such painfully difficult parts and of the
warnings given to him by physicians. Ir^^ng, at
most times prone to more or less playful satire,
listened observantly, and then, in his bland, piquant
way, replied: "Ah — yes — interesting — very: but,
Mansfield, my boy, if — if it isn't wholesome, I
wouldn't do it" No unkindness could have been
intended, but a sensitive man, especially one in whose
temperament there is much of the woman, will

TRIALS 101

sometimes remember with resentment the satirical
pleasantry of a friend, long after he has forgotten a
substantial kindness. It was about this time that I
received from Irving (Monday, August 27, 1888),
a letter in which he said:

"Poor Mansfield! He's a little hipped just now, and thinks
the world's against him. But I did my best to 'shake him up'
and to show that he's everything to be grateful for. He's made
a thorough success with the public — not every man's good for-
tune. I'm very fond of him and hope his boat may ever sail
as freely as it does now."

The boat, however, was not sailing as freely as
it might have done and as the actor's friends
assuredly wished that it might do. The trend of
his fortunes and the direction of his thoughts, at this
time, are well evinced in the following letter, received
in Paris:

August 30, 1888.
My Dear Winter: —

I have your good kind letter: you are, thank God! always the
same. Some of my idols here, however, have fallen. It
resolves itself into a hard struggle, — and a struggle it shall be.
I have youth and strength on my side. Our friends are rather
inclined to advise me to finish up quickly and go home. I shall
not finish up quickly, and I shall not go home — just yet — altho' I
know that very powerful forces will be, probably, arrayed
against me. Business is slightly improving and will doubtless
grow better as we reach the middle of September and October.

I want some charming first piece, and I am looking for it;

102 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

nothing in which to appear myself, but for five or six ladies and
one or two men; it is difficult to find. I should then begin, as
the nights grow longer, at 7:30, and with Dr. J. & H. at 8:30.
I think the play will draw a good business, in spite of all. I
shall have the "Parisian Romance" knocked into shape and do it
(I think at the Globe), and follow it with "Nero" and "Richard
III." Voila!

Please say not a word to any one: what I say to you I say
to myself. Would you could be with me and by my side always !
I shall get all the money I can, and make myself as strong as
possible in that particular. I have seen Irving but that one day,
and heard nothing of him since.

I hope Daly is doing finely in Paris. Will you remember
me most kindly to Miss Rehan ? When do you return ?
Always, dear Winter,

Richard.

Mansfield's season at the Lyceum extended from
August 4 to December 1, and, financially, it was
a failure. On October 1 he presented "A Parisian
Romance," and gave his fine performance of Baron
Chevrial. October 10 he made the mistake of pre-
senting "Prince Karl" for a Benefit (for the poor
of the East End), so that when it was brought for-
ward, on October 13, as his regular attraction, it
lacked the gloss of novelty and did not attract much
notice. He had been wisely advised relative to the
Benefit expedient, but the good counsel, — contained
in the following letter, — of one of the most experi-
enced and judicious of London managers had been
disregarded :

GOOD COUNSEL 103

Theatre Royal, Manchester,

October 9, 1888.
My Dear Mr, Mansfield: —

Mr. Irving asks me to say for him that he would be delighted
to aid in any way he can. He thinks, however, that to make
him a patron of a performance in the Lyceum would do harm
instead of good, as it would look like a "put up" thing. He
quite thinks, as I thought myself, that you would do very much
better not to have a benefit for a charity on your first night,
as such is so often done in London that it has come to be taken
by the critics and the public as a bid for favor. You make
your play more important by giving it on its merits, and
friends, in London, in such matters, do not count for a row of
pins. Very much better have the good results of a fort-
night yourself, and, as the Yellow Fever benefit seems to be off,
from your having another subject, you need not have a Charity
Benefit at all. We all certainly think that you would do better
not to have a benefit.

Yours very truly,

Bram Stoker.

Upon the fluctuations of business while Mansfield
remained at the Lyceum, and upon the critical dis-
cussion that ensued as to his impersonations of
Chevrial and Prince Karl, it would be unprofitable
to linger. Toward the last he wrote:

Dear Old Fellow: —

I think it very unkind of you not to let me know that you
were back in town. Overwhelmed with work, I lost the pencilled
lines you sent me, with your address, and was waiting to hear
of your return. I have much to say to j'^ou, — and above all to
thank you. ... A true, staunch friend ever.

104 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

Things are looking very much better than at first. Let me
know the moment you get back from Bath, or I shall never
forgive you. During the day I love to spend some quiet hours on
the river, and want you with me ! Was with Toole until late
last night. You will see him in Bath.
Yours as ever,

Richard Mansfield.

After liis season at the Lyceum had ended Mans-
field acted for one week in Liverpool, by way of
reinforcing his purse, and before returning to Lon-
don he visited Derby and gave two performances
there, for the benefit of the school which he had
attended when he was a boy, and which he always
remembered with affectionate interest. "I had one
bright day in Derby," — so he wrote to me, — "where,
at the old school, I met with a welcome worthy of
a King — a packed house and endless cheers and
calls. After the play the boys took the horses out
of the carriage and dragged me, — they yelling Hke
Comanches, — to the school. I played t\vice, and
netted a handsome sum, for a new racquet court and
a new chapel." To that visit his thoughts often
reverted, and more than once he told me it was the
one unalloyed happiness of the year he then passed
in England. The Lyceum season, while it had
increased his prestige as an actor, had left Iiim in
debt, to Irving, for rent of the theatre and other
expenses, .£2675. With that situation he had now

ENTERPRISE 105

to contend. He did not lose heart, however, but
determined on another and still more onerous ven-
ture,— the resumption of the plan he had formed
before leaving New York, of acting in London in
one of the great plays of Shakespeare. With this
purpose he hired the Globe Theatre and began
preparations for a magnificent production of
"Richard III."

In the meanwhile, after a visit to various places in
Scotland and Ireland, during which time I lost sight
of him, I had returned to New York, and the first
authentic news from him came in this letter:

Long's Hotel, New Bond Street, London,

December 16, 1888.
My Dear Winter: —

A merry Christmas, dear old man, and a happy New Year!
If I have not written before, you know how wild with work and
how driven to death and worried I have been. Had I good
news of myself I should have written often, but to drone out the
same old story, of bad houses and poor business, is as bad as
playing to them, and Heaven knows that is bad enough.

I received a charming book of poems from Scotland, — poems
of yours; and, when I have a moment, I sit down at the piano
and try to sing them, to extemporized music.
Irving is in town, but he cometh not to me.
We open the Globe on Saturday.

Well, all blessings be upon you for the New Year; sometimes
write to me, and don't forget altogether

Your true and grateful friend,

Richard Mansfield.

106 IJFE OF MANSFIELD

He opened the Globe Theatre on December 22,
1888, with "Prince Karl," but he had not been act-
ing long in that play before his voice, always very
sensitive to the London climate, became practically
disabled, and he was obhged to rest. An arrange-
ment thereupon was made, with the accomplished
English comedian Lionel B rough, to fill the time
with that fine old comedy "She Stoops to Conquer,"
and Mansfield went to Bournemouth, where he
devoted liimself assiduously to the study of "Richard
III.", so that he might present that tragedy at the
Globe as soon as he should be able to act. His
generous friend Eben D. Jordan had come to his
assistance in that formidable undertaking, and all
requisite preparations w^ere now rapidly made for
the worthy fulfilment of his momentous design.
Among the allies whom, fortunately, at that time,
he was able to interest in his enterprise were the
learned and exact Shakespeare scholar, Walter Her-
ries Pollock, and the accomplished antiquarian, J.
G. Waller. Mansfield himself had made a stage
version of the play, reverting to the original text,
though making use of some of Gibber's cogs and
words. Seymour Lucas was employed to design
dresses and armor for the production, Edward
German to compose incidental music, and William
Telbin and others to paint scenery. The tragedy

Photograph by Notman Company, Boston

EBEN D. JORDAN

RICHARD III. 107

was presented at the Globe on March 16, 1889, and
Mansfield's embodiment of Glo'ster, then given for
the first time on any stage, became, and for some
time remained, one of the principal themes of dis-
cussion in the society and press of London. His
own account of the venture follows:

Langham Hotel, Portland Palace,

London, W., March 24, 1889-
My Dear Winter: —

At last and successfully ! ! Considering how much we have
undertaken and what an enormous task it is to present Shake-
speare here, I think we have every reason to more than con-
gratulate ourselves. I am sorry your version did not come
sooner, but as it is, it has been of great service to me. . . .

The fools here do not know Gibber from Shakespeare
— I have almost entirely done without Gibber and restored
Shakespeare's lines — but because I have to a large extent fol-
lowed the "scenario" of Gibber, they are under the impression
that the lines must be Gibber — which they are not. However,
thank God we have succeeded — and that is the main point. On
the opening night — we commenced with an uproar in the pit;
everybody against us or doubtful; the close was a triumph —
an ovation ! Last night the house was packed and very many
people were turned away. So it has come at last. I have
waited a long time.

I cannot tell you how I long to be at home again — England
does not agree with me; I am ill and wretched; my throat
has not been well for months — and the strain and anxiety is
something too fearful. What would I not give to be in my
rooms at the Groisic — you and I, over a glass of grog and a
cigar (a big one — I have not smoked for a month), and you
"in the mood"!

There are more hypocrites, liars, parasites, and sycophants

108 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

here to the square mile than in America to the square State.
I know we have some of it in America — but here it is a recog-
nized, established, and admired business, and the man or woman
who does not practice it is considered a fool and liberally
cold-shouldered.

August! — will see me home again, please God, and it will
take much to drag me thence. I am very, very busy, so I can-
not write much now.

God bless you, old fellow.

Ever yours,

Dick.

Among the many personal tributes that Mansfield
received, on the occasion of his performance of
Richard the Third, two letters from the poet
Robert Buchanan gave him much gratification. The
author of such poems as "Two Sons," "The Ballad
of Judas Iscariot," and "The Vision of the Man
Accurst" was a person whose praise was worth hav-
ing. He is dead now, and in his death a fine genius
perished. Buchanan's first letter, a copy of which
was sent to me by Mansfield, was first published in
"The New York Tribune," April 9, 1889.

London, March 26, 1889.
My Dear Sir: —

Outside praise is of little value to one who works from his
own point of insight, but, knowing from experience that a
friendly wish may be pleasure, I venture to tell you how much
I was impressed by your Richard the Third.

Your Shakespearean work seems to me about as fine as it
could well be. I do not understand those critics who, while

THE POET BUCHANAN 109

praising it, say that it is not Richard. To me it seems an
absolute realization of that demoniac creature.

You have one unusual gift, in addition to your subtler ones, —
that of music in the voice, which makes a poor devil of a poet
hunger to have his lines delivered by such an organ.

I went, prepared to see an excellent piece of acting: I found
a masterpiece of characterization. And what a delight it is at
last to find an actor who is thoroughly alive, who is perfectly
fearless in his intellectual agility, and never falters one moment
in his execution of a daring conception.

I just write these few words of congratulation. Later I
may have an opportunity of writing to the public also.

Yours truly,

Robert Buchanan.

To Richard Mansfield, Esq.

"Leyland," Arkwright Road,

Hampstead, N.W., March 27, 1889-
Dear Mr. Mansfield: —

This road is at the top of St. John's Avenue, and about ten
minutes from the Swiss Cottage. My man can look after your
fiery steed when you call, but, as I am somewhat uncertain in
my movements, you might let me have a line, or a wire, to
announce your advent. I wouldn't like to miss the pleasure of
seeing you. Would Friday or Saturday next suit you.'' If so,
I'll await your message.

Pray believe me when I say that I seldom go out of my way
to write letters of compliment, and that my message to you was
a most unusual one, for me. I at the same time sent a line of
congratulation to the sweet child who played the Prince. I
mention this as there are some idiots who are always writing
letters, and you might fancy me a "gusher." Indeed, when I
think of it, I can hardly remember ever having done such a
thing before, — from which you may gather at least one thing,
that I was strongly and deeply moved.

110 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

There are mean souls who bend down only to the sun in its
meridian. / turn to the splendor of the dawn! If you possess
pathos in any proportion to your power, I believe you will
move mountains. I saw strange possibilities of pathos in sev-
eral of your scenes, notably that with Lady Anne, when your
face became wonderfully tender and spiritual — but your great-
est conjuration will come out of your vitality: it is indeed a
pleasure to find an actor so splendidly alive.
With all good wishes,

Yours very truly,

Robert Buchanan.
Richard Mansfield, Esq.

Mansfield's production of "Richard III." was,
by various classes and persons, in London, received
with much favor. There were, of course, dissent-
ing voices: nothing is ever satisfactory to every-
body: but the public opinion, in general, was that
of approbation. The attendance at the theatre,
however, presently began to lessen, and the actor
himself began to droop, in weariness and discontent.
Social attentions were bestowed upon him in
abundance: they always are, in such cases — that is,
when an actor has, for any reason, become a sen-
sation of the hour; but often they were insincere
and insignificant, and to him, certainlj^ they afforded
little if any pleasure and no compensation for the
lack of sufficient public support. He continued to
present "Richard III." until the first of June, when
liis lease of the Globe Theatre expired and his Lon-

HOME AGAIN 111

don season was ended. His thoughts and feehngs
all tills wliile, can be divined from the following let-
ter, one of several to the same effect, that he sent
to me, in the course of that engagement:

Langham Hotel, Portland Place,

London, W., May 18, 1889-
My Dear Willie:—

I had your letter — always kind and thoughtful, and I wish
all the world were like you. Read the extracts and your
essay with great interest and will reserve my opinion until we
meet, when we will have a discussion from 12 to 6 a.m. —
altho', of course, you're quite right. — The discussion will be
in the shape of sparkling wine and fragrant Havanas. I have
much to tell you, but it had better not be written. You are
not coming over this summer? ... I shall be glad, very
glad when the season is over — and I may quit these beautiful
but inhospitable shores and this apathetic people. The amount
of courtesy I have received from my brother actors, etc., here
would not fill a pea-nut shell ! The lying — backbiting — intrigu-
ing— slandering, underhand dealing and robbery would, on the
other hand, require a very large store house. No, — the people
are not pleasant.

Yours ever,

Richard.

In July, 1889, he arrived in America, crowned
with the laurel of distinction, heavily laden with
debt, somewhat impaired in health, much distressed
in mind, but resolute to attempt new ventures, to pay
his debts, to set liis affairs in order, and, by redoubled
exertions, to win the leadership of the American
stage. From that time onward, during a period of

112 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

eighteen years, till the close of his career, his activity
was great, his labor was incessant, and he continu-
ously occupied a conspicuous position, not only in
the public gaze but in the critical mind, — for in the
realm of the Theatre he seemed to be everywhere
present and always doing something new. His first
presentment in America of his version of "Richard
III." and his fresh view of GWster was made at
the Boston Globe, on October 21, 1889, and it
was the cause of much discussion. Immediately
after the performance, that night, many of his
acquaintances assembled, by his invitation, in a parlor
of the Parker House, for supper, and I remember
that the decorum of the occasion took at first the
impressive form of frosty silence, which at length
was broken by a cheery voice, saying, "Mansfield,
where did you get that dreadful music?" Long
afterward he playfully referred to that incident,
as typical of a kind of critical candor that might
well have been spared, — particularly as the music,
far from being "dreadful," was exceptionally fine.
Congratulation, however, was not withheld from him,
either then or later. His peculiar theory as to the
character of Glo'ster, a theory based more on his-
torical studies than on Shakespeare's play, was not
generally accepted, — being, in fact, viewed, for the
most part, with indifference, notwithstanding that he

INNOVATION 113

made it ingeniously effective by novel treatment, —
but the sustained power of his performance and cer-
tain special beauties of it were recognized and
warmly commended, by many pens in many cities:
for on the first night of Mansfield's Richard the
Third, in Boston, many of the leading news-
papers of the country were represented in the
audience, and there was an eager disposition to
sustain him in his earnest and valiant endeavor.
Four days later he wrote to me, recording his
prosperity :

Boston, October 25, 1889.
My Dear Old Fellow: —

Your article was indeed superb, and I do not know, and
cannot imagine, when you found time to write so thoroughly,
so finely. Praise from you is praise indeed, and as fine and
lasting as a monument.

I wish — I wish I could play up to it. I have quite realized
what you say about lack of incisiveness and I find the difference
apparent to myself in my acting since the first night. A twelve
hours' rehearsal and the anxieties of a first night are not
inducive to fine and precise expression, nor can Richard be
played upon Apollinaris. I think a little Hungarian wine with
seltzer helps me.

The houses have been very fine: $1,200, $1,100, $1,400, $1,500
(I am leaving out the odd dollars). I think this is good busi-
ness, and it bids fair to be better still. Please God it
may.

I will and have borne in mind all you say about Irving —
I will have none but the kindest feelings: the business part of
it shall be at once attended to.

114 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

And now, thank you, thank you, thank you, for the good —
the great, great good you have done me ! !

Yours quite,

Richard Mansfield.

It was remarked by the representative sage of
English criticism that fame is hke the shuttlecock,
which must be struck at both ends in order that it
may be kept up, and, fortunately for Mansfield,
there were adverse as well as propitious reviews of
his performance; and, although he did not like
them, they contributed to liis advancement.

Boston, October 27, 1889-
Dear Old Fellow:—

. , . The Boston critics are tearing the flesh from oflf my
bones — but we played to $10,000 all the same! $3,000 yester-
day in the two performances.

God bless you, old fellow — I shall never, never be able to
repay what you have done for me.

Ever, ever.
Yours,

Richard Mansfield.

A little later the business had begun to decline
and he became desirous of a change of bill. Toward
the end of his Boston engagement he made his first
experiment with the Ibsen Drama, having been per-
suaded to that fad by Miss Beatrice Cameron, then
the leading actress in his company, as she long con-
tinued to be. On October 30 an afternoon per-

RICHARD MANSFIELD IN 1889

'Look with a gentle eye upon thin wretch''

Hi: XII V VI., -\ Act III., Sc. 3.

(Quotation selct'tefl by himst'lf)

BEATRICE CAJNIERON 115

formance was given of "A Doll's House," Miss
Cameron appearing as Nora, and acting that part
exceedingly well.

Parker House, Boston,

November 1, 1889-
My Dear Winter: —

Thank you for another kind letter. I am much troubled
to find another play. I am very tired of being the ruffian
always and feel that it is absolutely necessary to my health
and the well-being of my mind that I should play once a week,
at least, some genial character. I can find nothing — nothing;
and it must be something that will cost nothing in production.
Can you not think of something for me?

I shall be in New York on Monday morning — indeed I
shall arrive late on Sunday, leaving here at 3. If you are in
town on Monday morning come in to the Croisic — but do not
drag yourself there for me.

I realize all you say to me, and I will endeavor to follow
your advice.

The weather is very trying and the strain great. Business is
good. Miss Cameron has made a marvellous success — as great
as it was unexpected; she was as near great as I ever saw an
actress — it was a revelation and an amazement to me and to the
audience. I need not tell you what this sudden development
means to us — for a charming and brilliant actress, such as she
proved herself to be, is what we have sought and we can now
really push her forward without the slightest fear. I speak
absolutely sincerely and without favor regarding Miss Cameron.
Even old Clapp gushed.

I am, always, always yours gratefully, truly,

Richard Mansfield.

His engagement at the Boston Globe was closed
on November 1, and the ensuing five weeks were

116 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

devoted to performances in Philadelphia, Washing-
ton, and Baltimore. I had advised him against need-
lessly antagonizing rivals in the professional race,
and was wishful, in particular, to promote friendly
relations between him and Jefferson, Lawrence
Barrett, Augustin Daly, and other such leaders,
and especially desirous that he should not, — as
eventually, he did, — by rancorous talk, affront and
alienate Henry Irving. I knew that harmony among
those chieftains, all of whom were accustomed to
open their minds very freely to me, relative to each
other, would be in every way beneficial. From
Philadelphia he wrote:

Continental Hotel, Philadelphia,

November 7, 1889.
My Dear Old Fellow:—

. . . I do not know either Mr. Barrett or Mr. Daly — I have
never met either — and of course I should be delighted to be
friendly with them, but I do not think they care a damn about

me. I have met once, and he was very drunk and

very friendly; I afterward called upon him when he was
sober — ^but he refused to see me; I think he is a very intelli-
gent person. I have tried for many years to make a friend

(and a sincere one) of P but he has not got it in his

nature to be a friend to any man — and he has always played
me some trick for my pains — he is a very sly and untrust-
worthy person. I treat him always with courtesy — but I
cannot trust him. To Irving I always, — my thoughts always, —
turn with affection, and no matter what he might do, I do
not think my affection for him would change. I cannot explain

BAD BUSINESS 117

this — unless it is what there is of the woman in my nature.
As for you — as long as I have a roof over my head it is for
you also, and, if you hadn't a son I should ask you to adopt
a fine healthy child with a good appetite and plenty of
animal spirits !

The Philadelphians are very indifferent and don't care a
damn about this fine presentation of Shakespeare's tragedy.

I note what you say about wearing heavy cloaks — I quite
understand.

Where can I get a copy of "The Man of the World".''

Always all yours,

Richard Mansfield.

Philadelphia, Pa.,
November 18, 1889-
My Dear Winter: —

Thank you for your last kind letter. Things here are not
what they should be — nor do I ever expect them to be, in
Philadelphia. There is not and never will be, to my thinking,
any interest in Art here — and I am quite sure I should have
done better with "The Rag Baby" or "The Tin Soldier." I
shall be glad — glad — when I am out of the place. We are
playing to about $1,000 a night less than in Boston. I begin
to think I can bear the Boston critics but not the Philadelphia
houses !

I am greatly obliged to you for introducing "The

— " to my notice. Altho' in many ways

I think badly written and capable of very much improvement,
it is finely conceived and appeals strongly to me. I shall do
it, and that very shortly. I am extending — and that at once —
my repertory. Your old idea of "Beau Brummell" is being
worked out now by me, with the assistance of a young man
named "P'itch." I should be very grateful to you, old fellow, if

you will write a preface for me to "The ," short

and pithy; something that I can publish in the programmes:

118 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

who and what and how, and everything about him: he was

contemporary of , was he not? Or am I an ignorant

brute? Will you do this for me? Do you think "The

— " for a first and "Sir Charles Coldstream" for a

second piece would be a good bill? I should not use the title
"Used Up," and I should alter somewhat the play itself.
Sir Charles is a capital character; the question is — would it be
risque for me to do it now? should I be going back? Would
it be bad policy? Then too as I am to do Brummell would
the characters strike you as in any way alike? What do you
think of Young Wilding, in "The Liar." Would that not be

better? You know I look to you for advice always and I

am sure you will give it.

Our business in N. Y. must be great and, please God, it may
be. Would you advise much advance advertising? Washing-
ton and Baltimore prospects look good, — and it seems that I
am to be feted in Washington: how different from this place —
where I am treated with studied indifference, I may say rude-
ness.

You seemed from your last letter to have dropped back
somewhat into melancholy — this must not be: you were so well
and cheerful. In three weeks I shall be with you, and we
iwill have high times! I have found some old play-books here
for you.

Yours always,

Richard Mansfield.

Rennert's Hotel, Baltimore,

December 5, 1889.
My Dear Winter: —

What is the matter? I hope you are not offended with me
about "Beau Brummell"? I won't do it at all if you say so —
and I certainly shall not do it without your approval.

We are compelled to open on the l6th, with "Richard" — a
postponement to the 25th would cost me $4,000, which I can-

RICHARD AGAIN 119

not afford. I have also thought well to raise my prices (in the
orchestra seats) to $2.00. Wallack's — or rather, Palmer's —
holds but $1,200 when quite full, so it would not pay me, with
my enormous expenses. My success or failure in New York
will mean everything to my future and the direction my work
will take: if America wants a new actor — new enterprise — new
work, and a man who will spend freely all that is given to him,
they may encourage me. If they don't — I shall give them
comedy and keep my money to myself.

I shall be in New York on Sunday — and I am looking for-
ward so much to seeing you again — what say you to Monday
evening.'' At the Croisic.'' — seven o'clock?

Always, always, yours,

Richard Mansfield.

On December 16, 1889, he appeared in New York,
at Palmer's Theatre, presenting "Richard III."
Palmer's Theatre had been Wallack's and now, 1910,
it is Wallack's again. His engagement there lasted
till February 15. "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" was
revived on January 20, 1890, "Prince Karl" on
January 27, and on February 5 he acted Humphrey
JLogan, in a melodrama called "Master and Man."
His production of "Richard III.", manifestly, was
the most important of those proceedings. In its
fidelity to historic fact and in its opulence of acces-
sories and magnificence of picture that production
surpassed all previous presentments of that tragedy
on the New York stage. The garniture with which
the play was invested, — the paintings and the dresses,

120 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

— reflected, not literally but in a vein of delicate
exaggeration, suitable to a work of art, the aspect
and condition of social affairs in England, in the
time of "the unpopular king." As a spectacle the
presentment was a triumph of archaeology. Mans-
field, though, was not content with showing only a
sumptuous historic pageant: he acted Glo'ster in a
vein of interesting originality. His theory as to
the development of the character, whether sound
or unsound, was thoughtful and it stimulated
thought. His method lacked, especially at first, the
tumultuous, propulsive expedition which is requisite
for the supremely effective acting of Richard, but
it was not that of a stage parrot. He showed
himself to be an actor of intellectual contrivance and
startling force, and he impressed veteran observers
with a deep sense of formidable personality and
admirable art. Among others, that great woman and
great actress Mrs. G. H. Gilbert, who knew all the
stage traditions of the part and remembered all the
notable assumptions of Richard^ from the time of
Forrest, Brooke, and Davenport to that of Edwin
Booth and Henry Irving, was emphatic in her
approval of his performance, an approval of excep-
tional value and significance. He did not, however,
please everybody. That well-known remonstrant
who intends to ejaculate "Louder!" when he hears

HIS LETTERS 121

the trumpet blast of the angel Gabriel is always
present in a theatrical audience, and he constantly
writes to, or for, the newspapers. But such an
actor as Mansfield could not be suppressed by the
niggardly intolerance of implacable detraction.
After the strangeness had ceased to be strange, and
after the prattle had died away, his acting was
judged by itself, and not by the standard of con-
ventionality, and it justified itself by its intrinsic
worth.

Letters that Mansfield addressed to me, from time
to time, in the course of this engagement at Palmer's
Theatre, are interesting, since they show the activity
of his mind and the fluctuations of his fortunes and
moods, record incidents that concern his welfare,
and give piquant denotements of his character. He
had been pleased with remarks of mine on his pro-
duction of "Richard III." He had resolved on
having a play on the subject of "Don Juan," and
he proposed that we should cooperate in writing it:
"When we produce it," he added, "we will say 'Don
Juan, a Comedy, by Deux Autres,' which will be
capital." He had considered plays based on Scott's
novel of "Woodstock" and on "Peter Schlemihl."
And he had again presented "A Doll's House" (once
only, December 20), Miss Cameron giving her
ingenuous performance of the child-wife, without

122 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

arousing public interest. The necessity of turning
from Shakespeare to the old repertory had been
urged upon his attention, and because of monetary
stringency, he deemed it expedient to associate him-
self with INIr. T. Henry French, in bringing for-
ward a current London "sensation" play. "I am
going to tack a little, and do a melodrama," he
wrote, referring to "Master and Man," "but I will
get into port just the same. It is a little dishearten-
ing, sometimes, that's all." His book of songs,
afterward published under the name of "One
Evening," Hkewise now occupied some part of his

attention.

The Croisic, New York,

December 17, 1889.
My dear, dear Winter: —

How nobly — how generously — how greatly you have written!
I do not think words can ever repay you and I am afraid /
can in no way ever — unless it be to deserve your commenda-
tion. How well and beautifully all is said that you have to
say! I thank you, I thank you, with all my heart. God knows
whether the people will come to see us — but if they do not —
at least your writing will be the fine monument that will stand
where I fell. — I am worn out to-day.

Ever your true, devoted, and obliged friend,

Richard Mansfield.

The Croisic, New York,

December 29, 1889.
My Dear Old Fellow:—

It seems such a hollow mockery, — when we had no Yule log,
no Christmas tree, no children around us, no dance, nor no

Photograph hij Stereoscopic Companij, London

"RICHARD III."
Mansfield as Glo'ster; Beatrice Cameron as Lady Anne (Act I.)

CHRISTMAS 123

snap-dragon, ifb halls full of merry people, — to wish anybody
a jolly Christmas, that I refrained. I didn't have one myself
and I didn't see why anybody else should and I smarted when-
ever one of the stage-hands, with a significant hand in his
pocket and an expectant look said: "Merry Christmas." But
don't think that I had forgotten you — only when one plays
Richard the Third 500 times in one week, one hasn't any time
even for one's truest friends!

Damn Ibsen! Who cares for Ibsen? Only I would wish,
for that dear sweet girl's sake, her heart being so warped to
that buoy, that it had not been entirely dragged away from
her. I know — I feel, how she looked forward to a success
here; I think her whole life was in it; too much so and it
militated somewhat against her doing herself complete justice.
She has been very ill ever since and it nearly breaks my heart
to play my scenes with her at night.

And now I send you a little New Year's gift — tho' I fear
you will not perhaps care for it: an old battered ring, with
my father's crest upon it. I wore it for many years, and
hammered it out of all shape trying to impress people with
this or that — I preferred sending it to you as it is; but I will
have it made round and smooth again for you if you wish.
WiU you wear it for my sake, dear old fellow, who have done
me such great good.'' Ever yours,

R. M.

V.

1890 TO 1892.

The votaries of art, commonly, are possessed of
acute sensibility, — fortunate for them, in the main,
because without it they could accomplish nothing,
but unfortunate for them in at least one respect,
because it makes them keenly sensitive to criticism.
The actor is especially sensitive, and naturally so,
because the exposition of his art involves the present-
ment of his person, and that condition of circum-
stance inevitably promotes a vigilant egotism, watch-
ful of praise and censure. Mansfield, devoured by
ambition and eagerly anxious to please, was par-
ticularly observant of remarks in newspapers, and
his spirit was alternately exalted and depressed by
them.

January 9, 1890.
My Dear Winter: —

I have read your article in "Harper's" with great interest
and especially have I recognized the truth of what you say
regarding my appearance in unpleasant characters only — altho'
you do forget that pleasant characters which are strong char-
acters are very scarce — and the "Prince Karl" and "Monsieur"
both are very sweet. However, so convinced am I of the
truth of what you say and perhaps somewhat by the fact that

124

IN MEDIAS RES 125

"Richard III." is, financially, a disastrous failure, that I have
determined to bestow upon the Public, in the future, the small-
est amount of artistic labor with the largest possible financial
profit. I seek now only a pleasant character and a popular
play, and I shall devote myself in the future to that class of
work which distinguishes the Monkeys of the Drama, — it
amuses the audience and does not fatigue the player. I am
a sick, tired and beggared man and out of the ashes of my
aspirations will rise a mean, sordid ape.
I am, always.

Yours very truly,

Richard Mansfield.

The Croisic, New York,
My Dear Winter:— Sunday, Jan. 19, 1890.

I am in medias res with my little book of songs — I think
of connecting them by some few words a la Boccaccio, making
the whole an entertainment and calling it "In the Evening:
being an entertainment of songs, sketches, suggestions, and bur-
lesques, by Richard Mansfield," and containing the following —
each to be illustrated by a good artist:

A suggestion for a National Air.

A Children's Waltz.

A Song Without Words.

"The Broken Harp" (The Poem by William Winter).

"The Curfew" (The Poem by H. W. Longfellow).

"The sea hath its pearls" (The Poem by Heine).

"Star of my heart."

"And love me still."

"In the twilight."

"Sad is my heart."

"Asleep" (The Poem by William Winter).

"Will you tell me, artless maiden?"

How I came to be a King: A Burlesque.

An English Opera: A Burlesque.

126 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

The Marmoset Monkey.

"Good Night and Good Morning" (The Poem by Lord
Houghton).

"The Silent Pianist" (being a sonata played in silence).

An air for the violoncello.

Etc.

I do not know how to set about publication — what to do? I
am so busy it is impossible for me to go down town to Harper's
— every moment of my day is occupied. Can you, will you,
assist me.'' Yours ever,

Richard Mansfield.

The Croisic, New York,
My Dear Winter: — January 30, 1890.

"Master and Man" is here and we are constantly rehearsing.

It is no use disguising the fact: I am in the depths of

abject misery — for here is a part that I must study without

bringing to it the first symptom of interest or pleasure. Three

times I have tried to break off my arrangement with French —

but in vain. Destiny. However, it may make so much money

that we can do something fine finely, shortly: if it doesn't make

money, nobody will be gladder, or drop it in a greater hurry,

than your very true, your ever devoted and grateful friend,

T - ., , ^ . , Richard Mansfield.

1 have gotten the Grippe !

The melodrama of "Master and Man" was with-
drawn after a run of two weeks and Mansfield's
engagement at Palmer's Theatre was then concluded.
A brief tour ensued, with "Richard III." and the
old repertory. One letter that he wrote, in the
course of that tour, is especially expositive of his
indomitable resolution to achieve great renown:

BRUMMELL 127

Palmer House, Chicago,

March 16, 1890.
My Dear Winter: —

When I am in bad luck I feel so like shrinking into my shell
— I always feel so keenly that nobody wants to know me — that
you will understand why I have been cold and disagreeable to
you — my best of friends. Things have taken a turn and we are
playing to crowded houses — for which I thank God! I am
playing nine times a week, and if I can only keep it up I
shall soon be myself again. Work has never terrified me —
THAT you know — but it did seem as if the good God had quite
forgotten me — or was angry with me — so bad and so sad have
affairs been with me of late. . . .

The press here has been more than kind, and has acclaimed
me far beyond my deserts. I think everything is possible to me,
if I am helped, and I feel, more and more, that the future — ^the
immediate future — of the American Stage lies very much in my
hands. At all events, I intend laying violent hands on it —
coute que coute! I have a most tempting offer to go to Berlin;
and I think I shall accept — because I can go there and do
great things "right off," without question — and when I've done
them there it will appear natural to people here that I should
do them. I have no time to potter backward and forward here,
at the whim of the people. Life is too short and too uncer-
tain to waste it in doing small things. I am about to produce
a play called "Edmund Kean," in Boston. Just to try it, that's
all. I have two weeks at the Boston Theatre, and need a play
dealing with large effects, and "Edmund Kean" turned up in the
nick of time. "Lord Dunmersey" (if I do it at all) I shall
reserve for the Madison Square engagement. Next week St.
Louis — the Olympic, where I play four plays in one week,
opening in "Richard III." Since I have written so much about
myself — write me something about yourself.

Always, always, yours,

Richard Mansfield.

128 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

On May 5, 1890, he again appeared in the capital,
beginning an engagement at the Madison Square
Theatre, with "A Parisian Romance." In the
meanwhile, as shown by letters already quoted, he
had been making a play on the life and character
of Beau Brummell. The design of a comedy of
manners, on that subject, which I had suggested to
him long before, was now, after a fashion, fulfilled,
and on May 19 he brought forth the drama with
which he was to earn much money and largely to
augment his fame. That drama lacks substance,
is encumbered with triviahties, and is disfigured by
caricature of manners and platitude of colloquy;
but it is embellished with striking traits of char-
acter and with amusing equivoke, it provides an
affecting contrast of prosperity and adversity, and
it is supplied with two or three moderately effective
theatrical situations, such as the experience and
ingenuity of an actor might naturally be expected
to suggest. It proved a serv^iceable vehicle for the
display of Mansfield's personality and accomplish-
ments, and his acting carried it to success.

The story of the origin and manufacture of the
play of "Beau Brummell" is singular and instructive.
Early in 1887 Mansfield applied to me, asking
for a list of such plays as I might con-
sider expedient for revival, and, in reply to

A SCENARIO 129

his request, I directed his attention to several
old comedies, long disused. In particular, I
mentioned the comedy of "Beau Nash," by Douglas
Jerrold, and I sent to him a copy of it, to read. That
play contains the well-drawn character of Richard
Nash J "the Tiberius of a silk stocking" and "by the
grace of impudence. King of Bath," — in his day a
remarkable man, of whom there is a biography
attributed to no less an author than Oliver Gold-
smith,— and also it contains an amusing story,
comic incidents, good equivoke, and various
pungent examples of the caustic pleasantry
for which Jerrold was distinguished. Mans-
field read "Beau Nash," and, although he decided
that it was not practicable for his use, he derived
from it the idea of acting a Beau, — an idea which had
not previously occurred to him. When next we met
the subject was discussed, and I then suggested to
him that incidents in the Ufe of another beau, the
celebrated Beau Brummell, might be utilized in a
dramatic form. I particularly specified a passage
in Captain Jesse's elaborate memoir of Brummell, in
which there is a suggestive record of Brummell's re-
ception of phantom guests, when he was a demented,
impoverished exile, at Caen, in France, and I said
that it could be expanded into a dramatic and pathetic
closing scene. JNIansfield expressed cordial approba-

130 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

tion of the subject and of the scheme, and earnestly-
requested that I would write a play for him, with
Brummell as the hero of it. I did not promise to
comply with his request, but said I would consider it,
and, a few days later, I sent to liim, in writing, the
plan of a drama.

The scene was to be laid partly at Oatlands, near
Weybridge, in beautiful Surrey (Oatlands being a
mansion that was once a palace and now is an hotel) ,
partly in London, and partly at Caen. Brummell was
to be represented as a noble person, irreproachable in
character, magnanimous in spirit, stately and elegant
in manners, and the fable was to be suited to the man.
Brummell was to intervene in an affair of gallantry,
and, under romantic circumstances, to rescue a beau-
tiful girl from the persecution of his friend the wanton
Prince of Wales, afterward King George the Fourth,
and in that way to incur the enmity of that royal
profhgate. Then he was to become enamoured of the
girl, and, upon his impassioned solicitation, she was
to give him a promise of marriage, dictated by her
grateful sense of obligation. Later he was to ascer-
tain, by chance, that, secretly, her affections were
fixed upon a handsome and accomplished but im-
pecunious young man, and thereupon he was to make
the welfare and happiness of the girl and her lover
the chief object of his solicitous, practical, paternal

PLAN APPROVED 131

care. He was, incidentally, to rescue the youth from
the peril of the gaming table, — a device which would
have permitted a sparkling representative scene at
Watier's, Brookes's, or White's (it is recorded that
once Brummell actually did thus befriend a lad) ;
then to provide a competence for him ; and then, with
firm, stoical abnegation of self, to procure the
betrothal of the young lovers: finally, having inci-
dentally encompassed his own financial ruin, he was
to go to Caen, in France, there, in penury, to endure
the pangs of want ; there, at a phantom feast, to wel-
come the phantom shapes of noble lords and ladies,
the companions of his better days; and there to
expire, after ha\dng been found by his old friends.
Upon that plan I believed that a practicable play
could be written. I was not then aware that the
authentic incident of Brummell's insane reception of
imaginary visitors had been used in a play, but long
afterward I read a two-act piece by Blanchard Jer-
rold, — a trivial fabric, of no practical use, — in which
the incident of the phantom guests is employed.

Mansfield, pleased with my plan, reiterated his
request that I would write the play, but, being bur-
dened with other tasks and duties, I declined to under-
take that labor, and so for a while the project slept.
It had, however, taken firm root in his mind, and,
ultimately, he determined to write the play liimself, —

132 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

which he was well qualified to do; but, as he was
acting, he would not devote himself to a literary
pursuit, and presently he employed Mr. W. C.
Fitch, who had been commended to his attention
by his friend Edward A. Dithmar, the esteemed
journalist, at one time dramatic editor of "The New
York Times," and, changing my plan, without
improving it (a plan which liis assistant, meanwhile,
read), Mansfield fashioned the play of "Beau Brum-
mell," dictating to that assistant the greater part of
the colloquy contained in it, but allowing Mr. Fitch
to write dialogues from notes and from memory of
his talk. That statement was made to me, by the
actor, in explanation, with marked emphasis, over and
over again, in speaking and in writing, and upon
Mansfield's authority I repeat it here: he said, also,
that the play was composed mostly at the Continental
Hotel, Philadelpliia. Some of the more piquant
lines in the dialogue in "Beau Brummell" were
taken from Captain Jesse's biography; others were
taken from earlier plays; others were supplied by
Mansfield, who had a particularly happy knack
of odd witticism. One colloquy was "conveyed"
from Peacock's "Nightmare Abbey," — a book that
I once mentioned to Mansfield as among the most
quaint compositions in our language. The plan
of choosing Brummell as the subject of a drama

GEORGE BRUMMELL, THE FAMOUS BEAU, IX YOUTH

From an Old Pr'nit

LIKE SHEEP 133

and the plan of idealizing his character were mine,
and so was a general scheme for the conduct of
the plot. Mansfield and his amanuensis possessed
my original written outline of story, together with
the substance of many hints and suggestions made
to the actor, in conversation and in various letters,
upon which to build, and it was, and is, my opinion,
that they might have built upon that basis with
better judgment and better taste. Brummell, in
actual Hfe, was a voluptuary. For the purposes of
a drama it was imperative that he should be rehabiU-
tated. That I had prescribed, and that was done.
Mansfield's acting, even in a caricature of manners
and circumstances, made him a magnanimous gentle-
man, and invested him with a romantic and pathetic
charm, while the long-continued success of the play, —
in which, while Mansfield lived to present it, Brummell
was always an attractive figure, — made Mr. Fitch,
who contributed to it scarcely anything except clerical
labor, a prosperous dramatist. There came a time,
so Mansfield told me, when that writer had so
thoroughly convinced himself that he was the
"creator" of "Beau Brummell," that, in INIansfield's
presence, and in that of Mr. and Mrs. W.
H. Kendal, he gravely informed his auditors
that, originally, he had intended the play for
Henry Irving! It should be mentioned, also, as

134 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

one more of many examples of the sheep-like char-
acter of most actors, that as soon as Mansfield had
made a hit with Beau Brummell, a crop of Beaus
sprung up, all over the stage. H. Beerbolim-Tree,
in particular, brought forth, November 3, 1890,
at the Haymarket Theatre, London, a play
called "Beau Austin," by Robert Louis Stevenson
and W. E. Henley; and even Blanchard Jerrold's
thin play was revived. Letters from Mansfield
substantiate this account of the origin and composi-
tion of the drama of "Beau Brummell." The state-
ments here made, on this subject, were widely pub-
lished during the Hfetime of Mr. Fitch, and they
were not, and could not be, successfully disputed,
either by him or by any other person. Mr. Fitch
died, at Chalons-sur-Marne, France, on September
4, 1909. He was a man of talent and he wrote
several serviceable plays, but he was not the author
of the play of "Beau Brummell."

The opinion of the actor on this subject is inti-
mated in the following letter, written twelve days
after the first performance of the play, when the
success of the production had been confirmed by
continued good attendance and a generally favorable
press, and when it seemed hkely that his present-
ment of the Dandy was destined to have a long
career;

TESTIMONY 135

The Croisic, New York,

May 31, 1890.
My Dear Winter: —

You are quite right — only too right in what you say about
Fitch — and he has not even had the grace to thank. If he is
capable — fortune is now within his grasp. But he has acknowl-
edged to no one his indebtedness to me or to you. Of course I
can say nothing.

I am so glad — so very glad you liked the sketch in Harper's
— praise from you is praise indeed.

Indeed I have thought of your poem — it is always on the
music rack on the piano, and I will play over to you what I
have attempted, when we meet — which pray let be soon.

Thank God there is no truth in the paragraphs about
Beatrice! She is much better and getting stronger. She
injured her health in playing that accursed Ibsen, and in the
many years of constant hard work and travelling. She is in
Berne.

Send me word when to expect you, — so that I may be quite
free. Always yours all,

Richard Mansfield.

The time came when Mansfield, because of a
vituperative attack upon him, relative to the author-
ship of "Beau Brummell," felt at liberty to make
a public statement on that subject, and did make
it, — in the form of a letter, published, on April 15,
1891, in which he said:

Boston, April 13, 1891.
... I owe it, perhaps, to Mr. William Winter, in the face
of Mr. C. Fitch's letter to "The Boston Evening Transcript,"
to say that Mr. Winter's statements are absolutely correct.

136 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

"_?Mr. Fitch's letter to "The Transcript" is a disfiguration of
facts. Mr. Fitch was engaged by me to write the play of
"Beau Brummell/' and I promised to use his name as author.
He would still be figuring as such but for his own folly and
ingratitude.

/ Mr. Fitch did not write "Beau Brummell" — except with
^ his pen.

. . . Mr. Fitch has only to be asked these questions:
Did you invent the plot? Did you invent any single situ-
ation.'' Did you invent or create any one character? Did you
have any single original idea for any one of the characters?
.' Did you even give names to the characters? Did you invent
i the climax of any act or scene? Did you invent any
i bit of business? How many of the speeches now spoken are
i yours?

i Mr. Fitch's position has been a preposterous one. His in-

j gratitude has been amazing. One sample alone suffices: Mr.

* Fitch carried my play and my property with him to London,

and read it to Mr. Beerbohm-Tree — who, thereupon, produced

"Beau Austin."

Your obedient servant,

Richard Mansfield.

The Brummell season at the Madison Square
Theatre in 1890 lasted from May 19 till October 25.
"Beau Brummell" was acted 150 consecutive times,
and was then taken on a tour of other cities, Mans-
field's impersonation of the Dandy being every-
where received with favor. He was not, however,
contented; he wished for something new, and he
again took up the subject of "Don Juan," renewing
his request that I would cooperate with him in
writing a play upon that old story. With that

A PHANTOM CABAL 137

request I did not comply, and it may as well here
be said that I had nothing to do with his tragedy
of "Don Juan," as it was finally fashioned, except
to admire it and to recognize and celebrate its merit.
At this time he first thought of assuming the cares
of managing a theatre in New York, and, inci-
dentally, he conjured up one of those bug-bears of
professional antagonism with which, throughout hfe,
his fancy was too readily oppressed:

Leland Hotel, Chicago,

December 8, 1890.
My Dear Winter: —

Your delightful book — your charming essay in Harper's —
both received, and I thank you for remembering me — I hope
you are not working too hard. Could you not leave for a little
holiday, and spend next week with me here, in Chicago, and do
some work on "Don Juan"? I have written out the first act
roughly, and it is ready for you. But the play needs thorough
discussion. Also we must talk over plans for the future —
and everything for which I like to come to you for guidance.
Pray come if you can — and I am sure it will do you good.

... I am aware of a cabal (with ghoul at its head)

to keep me from the throne I am striving for — in this cabal are
Palmer, Frohman, Daly, Barrett, and Booth — the latter may
be innocently. Their object is to establish an English actor
named Willard, in New York — but I cannot for the life of me
see what particular good he is likely to do anybody; his coad-
jutor is Hatton. These people are all after dollars — that
is the alpha and omega of their ambition and their existence.

I may take a trip to California, but I shall be in New York
shortly, for I play in Brooklyn and at Hammerstein's in
February. In October I shall open my new theatre. You

138 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

have always been my best friend — I have leant upon you
largely for advice in the past — I want to know if you will be
heart and soul with me in the future? I shall never do any-
thing to disgrace you, but I must say I need your earnest, your
true support. I cannot work all alone, and I am all alone.

Do come on here if you can possibly manage it, and we will
talk of everything. What about Christmas? Where do you
spend it? Bring the boy, and spend it with me?
God bless you, old fellow.

And believe me.

Always yours,

Richard Mansfield.

j|( The English actor, Edward S. Willard, to whom
such ungracious reference is made in the above
letter, made his first appearance in America on
November 10, 1890, at Palmer's Theatre, in Henry
Arthur Jones's excellent play of "The Middleman,"
and, in the character of Cyrus Blenkarrij gave one
of the noblest impersonations that have ever, in
our time, been set before the pubHc. There was
no occasion for Mansfield, or any other self-respect-
ing actor, to be troubled on this subject, for the
success of such an actor as Mr. Willard, which then
and later was decisive and abundant, could only
result in dignifying the stage and intensifjang the
public interest in it, — a consequence manifestly
advantageous to all its votaries.

Early in 1891 Mansfield again acted in New
York, tliis time at the Garden Theatre. The

"A DOLL'S HOUSE " 139

engagement was a short one, beginning on January
5 and ending on January 31, and it was devoted
to "Beau Brummell" and to an improved version
of "Prince Karl." An afternoon performance of
Ibsen's play of "A Doll's House" was, incidentally,
given, and Miss Cameron repeated her good per-
sonation of Nora. The play of "A Doll's House,'*
which, apparently, was written for the sapient pur-
pose of declaring that a wife should be her husband's
companion and friend and not his plaything, is
mawkish and tedious, but Miss Cameron infused
a winning personality into the part of Nora, and
commended a dull theme to acceptance by her
piquant and sustained vivacity, her occasional intima-
tions of sentiment and of maternal feeling, and, in
the moment of the hysterical dance (the only dra-
matic passage in the play), her truthful simulation
of artificial glee conflicting with genuine terror.
Letters which follow refer to that incident and
also to a musical experiment that Mansfield made,
in Washington, to which city he repaired, beginning
another tour, as soon as his New York engage-
ment had closed.

February 7, 1891.
My Dear Winter: —

Thank you — thank you — thank you, for your great kindness
to me; you are always the same true friend. And thank you

140 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

for your encouragement of Beatrice — she has talked of nothing
else since. How great to be able to bestow so much happiness !
Next Thursday afternoon there is to be given at Albaugh's
Theatre, Washington, a Concert of Songs, Grave and Gay,
written by myself. Two songs of yours will be sung and a new
National Air dedicated to the People of this Country is to be
sung by a boys' choir and played by a full orchestra. It will
be an interesting event, I think. I hope for the President and
his wife — all the Foreign Ministers — Congress and Society —
will you come, my dear friend, and be my guest, — come on
Thursday. The songs of yours will be "Asleep" and "The
Broken Harp." I shall say in the programme "the poem by
William Winter." I dislike "the words." Say you will come.
It will be delightful.

Ever yours,

Richard Mansfield.

The concert in Washington, devised partly to
please himself and partly as an expert scheme for
attracting a more considerable pubhc attention,
duly occm'red, was attended by a fine audience, and
gave much pleasure. As usual, I could not accept
Mansfield's invitation to be present, and therefore,
as on many similar occasions, incurred his censure,
— for he was always particularly resentful upon
the declination of any proffered hospitality. Later
he described the performance:

Buffalo, New York,

February 20, 1891.
My Dear Winter: —

My little Concert amusement cost $1,000, and the songs were
so wretchedly sung that I left the house. The effect upon the

"ONE EVENING" 141

people, however, seems to have been quite at odds with mine own
feelings in the matter, and everybody was loud in praise, and
the audience remained calling for me for fully fifteen minutes.
The man who sang "Asleep" murdered sleep — and the woman
who sang "The Broken Harp" (it should have been sung by a
man), had no heart. But you cannot give these people their
feelings at $50.00 a song, and I could not afiford a Scalchi or a
Patti or a Santley. There you are: in future I'll sing them
myself — voice or no voice ! However, your songs were very
much admired and vous voila ! I am over head and ears in
work. Pray are you doing anything on "Don Juan" — I may
need it first; in fact if I can only get it ready; if I only have
the time, I think it is a safer venture than ' The Man Without a
Shadow," which in any case would only go for a very few
weeks — } Let me know what you think.'' If you would dis-
patch the First Act to me — but no; I shall be in New York
Holy Week, March 23, and that will be time enough, or in
Philadelphia, March 9th.

God bless you, old fellow! I am.

Quite yours,

Richard Mansfield.

Friends of his have reason to remember that, on
many a festal night, in later times of happy com-
panionship, he sang those songs, for which he
had written such lovely music, and, commingling
frolic with feeling, caused the hours to pass swiftly,
— for he sang with deep feeling as well as consum-
mate skill, and when in a genial mood his companion-
ship was delightful. The programme of that concert
was the basis of his book, called "One Evening,"
to wliich he refers in the following letter:

142 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

Colonnade Hotel, Philadelphia,

March 5, 1891.
My Dear Winter: —

All your kind letters rec'd. I am compelled to finish "Don
Juan," in case the other and lighter plays should not be ready.
I intend to print "Don Juan" and before doing so I want
you to correct my English, and make suggestions. I shall be
in New York Holy Week — do try to keep it open for me — I
must see a great deal of you. If there is a hotel at Tompkins-
ville, near you, I think I will come and stay there for a day,
near you, if I may, and we can talk over everything . . .

I like the weird story you sent me — but to make a success-
ful play I am leaving out as much as ever possible of any such
element. For the Third Act I am stealing the situation with
the Duchess de Guise in "Henry III." (Dumas).

"Don Juan" will be a strong play — a new play. I shall not
open with it, if I can help it. If "The Man Without a Shadow"
proves too thin — and it looks that way now — I am thinking
(but 'tis to be kept secret at present) of a dramatisation of
Rudyard Kipling's "The Light That Failed," a most sweet,
pathetic story. . . .

My little book I can give no thought to at present — I am so
hard worked that I have not been in the fresh air for five
days now. I have left my rooms only to go to the Theatre.
In the summer months I shall have ample leisure to bring it
out. . . .

I should particularly like it to be understood that the
Garden Theatre is now my house of production, as Daly's or
Palmer's by arrangement with Mr. French, that my company
is a stock-company, not a merely supporting organization, and
that we only leave the Garden Theatre for a short time as
all stock companies do. I occupy the Garden Theatre until
my own house uptown is completed.

Ever gratefully your friend,

Richard Mansfield, y

THE STOCK-COMPANY 143

This idea of a "house of production" and a
"stock-company" was, undeniably, judicious, but the
suggestion of it by Mansfield, though absolutely sin-
cere, could only be viewed as a pleasing fancy. His
theory was correct. Every theatre should be man-
aged by an actor, or else by a person possessing
the actor's temperament, and in every theatre there
should be a good stock-company. But Mansfield
could not have conducted a stock-company, nor
could he have long remained associated with one, —
for he lacked both tact and patience. No actor has
appeared, in our time, who more decisively exem-
phfied the peculiar theory of democracy so con-
cisely stated by King Louis, in the play: "All sub-
jects!— all subjects; except me!" In that respect,
though, he was not entirely singular.

Colonnade Hotel, Philadelphia,

March 16, 1891.
My Dear Winter: —

I have decided to open at the Garden on May 18th with
a transcription of Rudyard Kipling's "The Light That Failed."
I had nothing to do with this transcription — it has been done
entirely by Miss Cameron and Miss Sprague. / have been too
busy with "Don Juan" — in whom I am very much interested.
I will read to you what I have written. As "Don Juan"
would need much costuming, and is a work of some importance
(so I venture to think), I do not wish to do it at this season —
but to wait until the fall. I hope "The Light That Failed"
will prove successful — I shall play Dick: Miss Cameron
Maisie: Ferguson Torphenotv. Have you read the book.'' It

144 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

is a clever and touching story and I think taken from real life —
indeed, I believe I know the people.

With all affection.

Ever yours,

Richard.

His fancy for plays about "The Man Without
a Shadow" and "The Light That Failed" was soon
discarded. The wish for novel subjects, though,
was continuously present in his mind, and many
themes for plays, and sometimes new plays them-
selves, were considered, temporarily approved, and
then rejected by him. At this time he had nearly
decided to produce a play called "The Great House
of Vanbrough," appearing in it as a typical old
New York merchant, and at another time his
preference inclined toward a play called "Gentleman
Waiffe," based on Bulwer-Lytton's novel "What
Will He Do With It?" He also thought of act-
ing Cardinal Mazarin and Dean Swift,

It was surprising that Mansfield did not, at this
period of his career, lose heart and utterly break
down. He was oppressed with a huge burden
of debt; he had been disappointed, to a grievous
extent, by the public neglect of liis costly revival
of "Richard HI."; he was acting eight times a
week; he was diligently occupied in the writing
of his play of "Don Juan" (and much annoyed

VARIED ACTIVITIES 145

because I would not favorably respond to his fre-
quent requests for assistance in that task) ; he was
acutely anxious about the unfinished tragedy of
"Nero," and was urging his friend Mr. Sulhvan
to complete that work; he was studying the part
of Dickj in a play about Mr. Kipling's story of
"The Light That Failed"; and frequently he was
the object of harsh disparagement in newspapers, —
an injustice which, naturally, prompted resentment
and the disposition to "strike back." It was no
wonder that he suffered, that he was often ill,
and that his temper was exasperated. One speci-
men of the abuse that followed him is here quoted,
because its pubhcation was the cause of the explicit
disclosure, already cited, of some of the truth relative
to the authorship of "Beau Brummell":

... I suppose that Mansfield will devote all his time to
"Beau Brummell," in which Boston people will take great
interest, as, in a way, they claim its author. Besides that,
many people here heard "Beau Brummell" read before Mans-
field's manager read it. They will be interested to see how
much truth there was in that nasty little report which was
circulated in New York to the effect that Mansfield wrote
much of that piece. I never heard much about Mansfield's
cleverness with his tongue, though it is notorious that he can
use it with effect when he is angry. However, it is not a
part of his reputation — cleverness of speech. If he has
tampered with the play, unless he has changed his humor,
he should have written something in that would have enabled
him to show his shapely figure, of which he used to be very

146 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

proud. At least one must infer it from the fact that a few years
ago, when a writer was at work on a play for him, he stipulated
that the end of the act should be so arranged that he could
come on in his bathing dress. . . . — From "The Boston Home
Journal," March 28, 1891.

The spiteful tone of that contemptible paragraph,
commingling falsehood with meanness and malice,
aptly exemplifies the insolence and mendacity with
which, for some years, Mansfield was assailed in
a section of the American press. The idea of
"Beau Brummell" had been suggested to him early
in 1887, and the first written document on that
subject is dated November 26, of that year, —
long before Mr. Fitch had ever met Mansfield or
ever heard of "Beau Brummell." Reference to the
"contract" (reproduced elsewhere in this memoir),
which, in his indiscreet, heedless amiabihty, Mans-
field gave to Mr. Fitch, will discover that it was
dated November 11, 1889.

Brooklyn, N. Y.,

April 4, 1891.
My Dear Winter: —

I enclose, of course, the clipping from the (Boston) "Home
Journal," and I am looking forward with fiendish delight to
your answer — (and which it is like your kindness and gen-
erosity toward me, always, to write). You will certainly burst
the frog! The paragraph about my desire to appear in a
bathing-suit is extraordinary! I never discussed a play with
anybody in Boston but T. Russell Sullivan and I am, I think.

A LITERARY FEAT 147

the very last man to desire to appear in a bathing-suit.
Heaven forfend! It's bad enough at Narragansett ! But this
discloses the fact that the author of the paragraph at one
time or another probably sent me a play which was
declined. . . .

You have no conception how greatly your visit yesterday has
cheered and encouraged me — of how much good you have done
me ! — and what result your words will have on my future !
You are my dearest and best friend, and I hope I may never
in my life be forgetful of your kindness!

Ever yours,

Richard Mansfield.

Before the end of April the tragedy of "Don
Juan" was finished by Mansfield, while in Boston,
where, this time, he prospered, and the completion
of his task seemed to set him up in hope.

The Brunswick, Boston,

April 22, 1891.
My Dear Winter: —

The play is finished — I sat at it all day yesterday, Sunday —
from nine in the morning until six and completed the last act.
I locked myself in and remained without food — Beatrice came
then to hear me read it to her and I broke down and became
hysterical. I think I shall never attempt any such task again.
Please God it may be a success. Beyond altering the close
of the Second Act and rehearsals, study and the playing of it,
nothing now remains to be done. . . .

"Don Juan" ends sadly — it would be impossible for me to
close the work otherwise, and death dignifies the whole. I
have given him a touch of Ophelia (in one of the wanderijigs
of his mind I have stolen a description from your lovely book)
— what a sweet beautiful book it is — I hope we may both be
spared to take those rambles together. I cannot write this

148 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

morning — my head buzzes — my hand trembles — there is a dis-
sipation in work as in pleasure. My writing of "Don Juan"
will be bitterly attacked — I see that articles are being spat
out concerning the relations of author and actor, and the
actor is being told that he thinks a great deal too much of
himself. He always did — poor Devil! he never could get
anybody else to think about him at all. Come on, and let
us sit and abuse this very pretty world, for the people that
are in it. Come on! Yours ever,

Richard Mansfield.

The "Home Journal," "The Saturday Evening Gazette"
(Wolff) attack me with much and bitter venom. We have,
however, so far, played to very fine houses.

The dramatic critic of the "Gazette" at that time,
was Benjamin E. Wolff, since deceased, — a man of
exceptional talent, rigorous in judgment and often
severe in censure. He was also a dramatist, and
he is remembered as the author of "The Mighty
Dollar," in which play that excellent actor, the late
William James Florence, gave so much pleasure
and gained so much popularity, as Hon. Bardwell
Slote. His criticism of Mansfield, probably, did
no harm. "Paper pellets" do not injure any man
who is using such talent as he possesses, in an honor-
able manner, for the good of others as well as of
himself, but it was ever difficult to persuade him
to disregard them, although, in later years, he
avoided, to some extent, the reading of newspapers.

COUNSEL 149

New Brighton, Staten Island,

April 23, 1891.
Dear Richard: —

I am delighted to hear that your play of "Don Juan" is
finished. Your decision to end it with death is, unquestionably,
wise. There could be no other artistic close. I think there
ought to be a slight, vague, evanescent tone of omen, — perhaps
in an occasional strain of music, — all the way through the piece.

I regret you have been made ill. Be very careful of your
health. Don't read newspapers, and don't write any more let-
ters or allow any interviews. . . .

Do not mind the words that are written against you. It is
only fruit-trees that are stoned, — as the wise Spanish proverb
says. Read your "Don Quixote" and be happy. I have every
confidence in the success of Juan. I wish I could read it before
you produce it: but I cannot come to Boston. I cannot leave
my work. I am surrounded with difficulties. We all are!

Do you begin at the Garden Theatre with "Don Juan".'' and
on what date.''

I am glad you like my "Gray Days," and I wish we could
ramble together in that lovely land.

Always truly yours,

William Winter.

The Albion, Baltimore,

„ _ April 29, 1891.

My Dear Winter: —

... I return to town next week. I shall produce "Don
Juan" either May 18 or May 25. We may not be ready
before the latter date. I find the Second Act needs re-writing
in part, and it worries me. However it has to be done — please
God it may be a success, so that I may rest a little — I am
almost tired out. . . .

I hear that "Frederick Lemaitre" was a mass of rubbish
founded upon a good little story taken from a French news*

150 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

paper. The language, I hear, is empty persiflage — and that
is all that young man can do; he is a windbag. . . . He has
gone to Europe to produce "all his plays"!

The beautiful weather sets me a-longing for the country. I
am ever cooped up within doors. I never see the trees and
the flowers in the country (unless thro' a railroad carriage
window). I am weary, weary. Pray come to town as soon
as I get back — I need you. I am disgruntled and I have one
of my "throw everything away" moods upon me.

Yours ever,

Richard Mansfield.

Early in May he once more appeared in the
capital, beginning, at the Garden Theatre, with
"Beau Brummell." On May 18 he presented
"Don Juan," for the first time on any stage, and
he acted the hero of it with consummate skill,
splendid vigor, and touching effect. The occasion
was one of uncommon interest. The audience was
large and not only genial but enthusiastic in its
denotements of approbation. The verdict of the
metropolitan press, on the next day, was, with
some exception, favorable. Yet the play immedi-
ately languished, and, after a few neglected repre-
sentations, it was withdrawn. My first impression
of it, which, after careful reading of the piece
(it was pubHshed in November, 1891), remains
unchanged, was expressed to Mansfield in the fol-
lowing note:

A RUEFUL AUTHOR 151

After the Play, May 18, 1891,-3 o'clock
in the morning of the IQth.
Dear Old Friend: —

I have only time to write a word. It should be one of
congratulation to you, on your brilliant success. You have
made out of the old story of "Don Juan" a beautiful play,
— in which there is no blemish. And your performance is full
of loveliness and thought. I have begun the making of a

version of for you, but you won't want to do it for a

long time yet. Make the most of your success and bt^ppiness.
God bless you!

Faithfully yours,

William Winter.
R. M.

On this note, — wliich, with others used in this
biography, was returned to me by Mrs. Mansfield,
after her husband's death, — the rueful author had
written, with pencil, these words:

"This play was an awful failure: not a soul
came to see it! ?"

"Don Juan" deserved a better fate, since it is a
novel and interesting play. Instead of helping
him to pay his debts, however, it served only to
retard him in that business, — to which, meanwhile,
he had been giving diligent attention. When with-
drawn, it was succeeded by revivals of the well-
worn plays of Iiis old repertory, on which he could
still depend.

On March 26, 1891, Mansfield and his company
had come to Staten Island and given a perform-

152 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

ance at the theatre of the German Club, at Staple-
ton, for the benefit of the Arthur Winter Memorial
Library, in the Staten Island Academy, appear-
ing in "Prince Karl." This was an unasked,
but gratefully appreciated, act of kindness, — ^that
Library having been founded to commemorate a
deceased member of my family, and being an
object of my solicitous care. One of the comedian's
auditors, at the representation of "Prince Karl,"
was the eminent orator and writer, George William
Curtis, who, speaking to me, after the performance
had ended, aptly designated Mansfield's embodi-
ment of the whimsical Prince as "the perfection of
fooling," and warmly extolled the vigor, the sus-
tained vivacity, and the fine finish with which the
part had been acted. Mr. Curtis also lauded the
performance, in one of his peculiarly graceful Easy
Chair papers, in "Harper's Magazine." That com-
mendation became known to Mansfield, and natu-
rally, it gave him pleasure to be praised by one of
the most accompHshed men of our time.

The Croisic, New York,

May 28, 1891.
My Dear Winter: —

I was honored and delighted with the kind and generous

words of Mr. Curtis, and I take the liberty of enclosing a

note to him, which perhaps you will be kind enough to forward?

"Don Juan" is much improved I think — in appearance cer-

"AT

NERO" 153

tainly and I hope you will think so. I have been bitterly
and cruelly attacked — so much so that for some days I trod
the stage with almost shame. The hesitation and doubt of
myself has not passed away. Ethel and Beatrice have been
very good to me and constantly tell me all manner of flattering
lies to keep up my courage and self-esteem — so needful to the
miserable play-actor. Something else should be put in rehearsal
at once — for we cannot afford to lose any money: $167;,000 is
enough in any one man's lifetime, and the wolves who are
howling for my blood should know that.

I am thinking of a Dickensonian character: you once sug-
gested that: what say you now.'' Will you come and talk it over?

Yours,

Richard Mansfield.

The spring season of 1891 was extended into the
summer, when the tireless actor allowed himself to
pause, — but not for long. Early in the autumn he
reappeared. The next new production that he
effected was that of "Nero," the tragic play which
his friend Sullivan had for some time been occupied
in composing, under his counsel and urgency, and
which was performed, for the first time on any stage,
at the Garden Theatre, New York, September 21, —
winning some critical favor, but failing to win the
necessary practical support of public approbation.
It happened to me to be abroad, for a while, in
that year, and our interchange of letters became
less frequent. He failed not, however, to write to
me about "Nero," and in one letter he sent glad
tidings of the most fortunate event of his experience.

154 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

September 4, 1891.
My Dear Winter: —

I can only send you one hasty word of thanks for your kind,
beautiful letter. I am in all the turmoil of preparation for
the production of "The Tragedy of Nero/' and it is with
serious concern that I learn of your postponed return to this
country. It seems to me that America becomes more and
more a province of England, and that everything that is good
and beautiful here seems to yearn to live there. I do, and
I am both good and beautiful! "Nero" will be played Septem-
ber 21 and is a Tragedy, pur et simple, and the people will
probably damn it.

I announce to you my engagement — or the engagement to
me of — of sweet and beautiful Beatrice. We shall be married
in England next summer and I trust I may prevail upon you
to accompany us. Beatrice has refused me seven times seven.

Ever your friend,

Richard Mansfield.

In your wanderings see what you can find for me, in the
shape of some lovely spot by the sea-coast where we may dwell
in peace? You know what I like.

In his domestic life Mansfield was peculiarly
fortunate. On September 15, 1892, while acting
at Daly's Theatre, he wedded the actress known
on the stage as Beatrice Cameron, — ^in private life
Miss Susan Hegeman. The marriage occurred at
the Church of the Redeemer, Eighty-second Street,
in New York. With that companion, — an affec-
tionate, devoted wife, appreciative of his virtues,
sympathetic with his ambition, careful of his health,
tolerant of his idiosyncrasy, helpful in his labor,
and provident in his interest, he passed the remainder

Photograph lij KutUl

BEATRICE CAMERON
{Mrs. Mansfield)

MARRIAGE 155

of his days, in as much happiness as it was possible
for his restless spirit to know. Without his wife's
counsel, comfort, and guidance, indeed, Mansfield,
probably, would have become even a more bitter
cynic than the Alceste whom he represented so well,
and, almost certainly, he would have worn himself out
much sooner than he did, by injudicious ventures
and by hopeless warfare with the world. They had
one child, a son, born August 3, 1898, named George
Gibbs, — the name of George having been given to
him in compliment to the daughter of one of their
intimate friends.

Soon after the marriage Mansfield wrote to me,
November 8, 1892:

". . . You are right. Beatrice and I are, — at least / am,
with her, — completely happy. She is more beautiful every day.
She is completely and absolutely good. I can find (and I am a
severe critic) in her not one fault. She is the soul of goodness,
and appears to possess every virtue. I am lost in wonderment
that any being can be so. ..."

Another glimpse of the gentle spirit of his Beatrice
is here afforded:

Pla7a Hotel, New York,
My Dear Winter: — November 7, 1891-

We go to Boston on Sunday by the 11 o'clock train from the
Grand Central, and I stay at the Copley Square Hotel (a new
house).

Poor Beatrice went to Troy on Wednesday — to the bedside
of her dying brother Byram. The enclosed telegram tells its

156 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

own sad tale. Byram Hegeman was only sixteen years old, and
Beatrice was deeply attached to him. She had sent him to
school and had taken all the cares of his education upon her-
self. He seems to have been beyond others bright and gentle
and affectionate. She took great pride in him. It is a terrible
blow — an incomprehensible ordaining. It seems that those
beautiful words, "Es ist bestimmt in Gotte's Rath" — it is
ordained by God's decree that those who love must parted be —
are true.

I feel the blow for Beatrice's sake almost as keenly as she
must — and I fear she is almost heart-broken. I would you
were with her. I can write no more just now. . . .

Ever yours,

Richard Mansfield.

As he had prognosticated the doom of "Nero," —
namely, that, being a tragedy, it would be damned,
— he might, perhaps, have been expected to meet
the catastrophe with some degree of philosophic
composure, but he had built a golden hope upon
that play, and the ill-fortune which it encountered
greatly annoyed him. His impatience was freely
expressed; sometimes in a way to exacerbate already
existent newspaper animosities. In the winter sea-
son of 1891-'92, he made a tour, using the old
plays, but, privately inciting and assisting the com-
position of new ones. The subjects upon which his
choice then fell were Samuel Warren's fantastic
novel of "Ten Thousand a Year" and Hawthorne's
solemn, pathetic, heart-rending romance of "The
Scarlet Letter."

Plwtograph by Path Bros.. \riv Yorl;

MANSFIELD AND HIS SON GEORGE GIBBS MANSFIELD

VI.

1892.

Early in 1892 Mansfield's book of music called
"One Evening" was published. It contains fourteen
compositions, alternately serious and humorous; it
provides, in the hands of a competent performer, a
complete entertainment for a miscellaneous audience,
and it is particularly felicitous in playful satire of
musical conventionalities. Some of its melodies,
suggestive of the style of Dr. Arne, are delicious
in their tenderness of feehng and their simplicity.
The characteristics of the work are refinement,
piquancy, vigor, and grace, and it is strikingly
indicative of poetic fancy and versatile faculty of
expression.

The first theatrical novelty that he furnished to
the public in that season was the drama of "Ten
Thousand a Year," written for him, at his sugges-
tion and under his advisement, by Miss Emma V.
Sheridan.

On board Private Car, "Pilgrim/'
My dear Winter: — February 6, 1892.

.... I am going away now, for a week only, and then
return to the Garden Theatre — an engagement I dread, not

157

158 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

only because I seem to arouse the animosity of most of the

writers on the N. Y. dailies, but on account of , who

dislikes me as much as I despise and abhor him. He is a low
brute — lower, I think, than any animal our natural histories
have made us acquainted with!

This coming week I go to Troy, Norwich, Hartford, and for
three nights to Providence. Owing to the bad hotels and the
much work I have on my hands I shall live on the car. . . .

I should like you to go with us to San Francisco. We start
April 11, from New York. I shall have my own car, and a
good cook; we shall have a bath, piano, etc., all the comforts
of home — and I have thought you might write an amusing book,
of the trip — a book written in a whimsical vein — remarks by
the way; of our adventures, of all that befalls us; about people
and places. We should both have odd fancies and ideas.
What do you say?

Regarding "Ten Thousand a Year," I fear it's not much in
your vein; altho' I do not know why — it's quaint and comical,
and with a touch of pathos, born of Tittlebat's true love for
Terese Tagrag, the daughter of his former employer. Tessy
will be played by Beatrice, of course. I can't send you the
play to read, for it's all in shreds and patches, like a quilt.
But I return, February 15, to New York, and surely you can
find one hour, after the play, for me? My first week at the
Garden I shall devote to repertory — Wednesday "The Weather-
vane," my new name for "Don Juan," since the old one fright-
ened the ladies.

God bless you, dear old fellow; I wish I saw more of you —
what a demnition grind it is !

Yours always,

Richard M.

On February 15, 1892, he appeared at the Gar-
den Theatre, as Beau Brummell, and on immediately
succeeding nights he acted Prince Karl, Don Juan

"TEN THOUSAND A YEAR" 159

(then called by the new name of "The Weather-
vane"), Chevrial, and Jekyll and Hyde. A special
rehearsal of "Ten Thousand a Year" was, I remem-
ber, attended by his admiring friend Col. E. A.
Buck, — one of the best of good fellows, — and by me ;
and because neither of us expressed enthusiastic
approval of the play, Mansfield, on the eve of pro-
duction, resentfully remarking "You can pick even
'Othello' to pieces, if you choose to make fun of it,"
dejectedly declared that he would discard his new
piece. The venture had, in a financial way, been
made; the play was ready, the opening had been
announced, and it was essential, having gone so
far, to go on to the end. Yet Mansfield, impulsive
and mercurial, could with difficulty be reassured and
persuaded to give the performance. The cause of his
doubt was that, although interested in the character
of Tittlebat^ he knew, from the beginning, that it
was useless for the stage, and he found his secret
judgment ratified. His performance was a capital
exposition of the technical art of acting, but it won
no public support. The play was presented on
February 23, and it had a career of three weeks.
The rest of the engagement, which lasted till April 9,
was devoted to repetitions of old parts. Twice he
reverted to "Titmouse," but the play was always a
disappointment to him.

160 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

4 West 28th Street,

New York, March 11, 1892.
My Dear Winter: —

. . . "Ten Thousand a Year" was put on a week too soon,
and it is no doubt great rubbish, but it was the only thing
that offered — there was absolutely nothing else, and to have
attempted a tragedy would have meant a great financial loss.
Heaven only knows what we are drifting to — nobody writes
plays, and everybody but you discourages sincere and ambitious
effort — it is quite enough for me to announce a new play for
the hornets to gather. I shall, probably, have to give up any
attempt in this city. I should like to consult with you — can
you find time to come to my new ranch? . . .
Always your grateful friend,

Richard Mansfield.

It was made known to me, at this time, that
Augustin Daly (1838-1899),— long the foremost
of American dramatic managers, as he continued to
be till his death, — ^had thought of forming a com-
bination that would directly compete, in serious
drama and in tragedy, with the powerful alliance of
Henry Irving and Ellen Terry. No motive is
more conducive to excellence in the dramatic art
than that of ambitious emulation, and as soon as
Daly spoke to me on this subject, wliich he did very
earnestly, my sympathy was enlisted. His purpose,
not positively defined but clearly indicated, was to
present Miss Ada Rehan in more massive characters
than any that she had yet assumed, and he discussed
with me the expediency of her appearance as Queen

ALLIANCE 161

Margaret, in "Henry VI." and "Richard III.," as
Lady Macbeth, and as Cleopatra, in sumptuous
revivals of Shakespearean tragedy. An imperative
prehminary to the accompHshment of such a pur-
pose was the engagement of an actor of proved
abihty in tragic parts, and of commanding reputa-
tion. It seemed to me that, beyond question, Mans-
field was the actor, but I doubted if he was the
man. His pecuharities and those of Daly were
known to me. With Mansfield, always, where Mac-
gregor sat was the head of the table. Daly, one
of the greatest of stage-managers, was, neverthe-
less, prone to over-scrupulous interference with
his actors, in matters alike of ideal and execu-
tion. Nevertheless I ventured to suggest to Mans-
field the idea of a professional union with Daly.
He seemed much pleased, at first, declaring that
such an association, if practicable, might relieve him
from the cares of management, of wliich he was
very weary, and at the same time open a wide field
of artistic opportunity. He had not then acted
Shylock, and he especially remarked on the possi-
bility of appearing in that character, with Ada
Rehan as Portia. After considerable meditation on
the subject, — for he was a little hesitant about
maldng an overture, — JNIansfield wrote to me as
follows :

162 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

4 West 28tli Street,

New York, March 13, 1892.
My dear Winter: —

... I now wish to ask you if you would see Mr. Daly for
me. I am greatly hampered for want of a theatre and at the
same time I fear to load myself with its responsibilities, when
I have already so much on my hands. It occurs to me that
the following arrangement could be made:

That Mr. Daly should divide his seasons equally between
Miss Rehan and myself: i.e., that he should produce, for a part
of the season, plays in which Miss Rehan would be prominent,
and that she should then (greatly to Mr. Daly's advantage)
visit the principal cities, — when I would come in and produce,
in conjunction with and under Mr. Daly's management, such
plays as we might mutually agree upon and devise. I think
in this way great plays could be done at Mr. Daly's Theatre.
We could go into all the arcliaeology of the things, and we could
paint and dress our plays as they have never been dressed and
painted before. I should be associated with a man who is
certainly sincere in his devotion to the Arts.

Of course Miss Cameron would be with me as my principal
support — but, outside of that, Mr. Daly's forces would assist
me: — i.e., Mr. Daly would have a sufficiently large army to
support both ]\Iiss Rehan and myself, and he would be able
to change them about in accordance with the exigencies of the
plays produced. I draw very large houses in the country, and
I would, of course, give Mr. Daly a handsome percentage of
my earnings out of the metropolis.

If such an arrangement as I propose could be effected with
Mr. Daly I should be, of course, under Mr. Daly's management
and we could always play to advanced prices in the country,
and I think Mr. Daly would be master of the two most power-
ful organizations in America.

What do you say.'' Will you, as a mutual friend, submit to
Mr. Daly this project.''

DALY 163

When shall I see you? With all good greetings
Truly always your grateful friend

Richard Mansfield.

N. B. — I may add that I am urged to this combination with
Mr. Daly very largely by the fact that upon every side new
Theatres, managed by speculators only, are springing up, and
that Mr. Daly is the only man in this country who seems to
have the interests of art at heart, and that I must stand shoulder
to shoulder with the older man.

In submitting that letter to the attention of
Daly I suggested that it might prove feasible to
form an alliance with Mansfield for a term of
years and to begin with a splendid production of
"The Merchant of Venice," and supplement that
with a magnificent revival of "Antony and Cleo-
patra." But, with my private opinion of what
was hkely to happen when Mansfield came upon
Daly's stage to rehearse, and Daly began to direct,
I asked the latter: "Do you think that you and
Mansfield can work together in harmony?" "Oh,
yes," he repHed; "I shall have one grand row, at
first, as I did with Fechter, and after that there will
be no trouble. It has always been so." Knowing
both men exceedingly well I could not take that rosy
view of the probable event. Mansfield, however,
was apprized that Daly wished to confer with him,
and during two or three months negotiations were
pending between them.

164 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

4 West 28th Street, N. Y.

March 23, 1892.
My Dear Winter: —

I am very grateful to you for your kindness in speaking
to Mr. Daly for me, and I should much like to meet him. But
any arrangement which would leave out Miss Cameron would,
of course, be impossible, in view of our approaching alliance.

I am anxious to see Lord Tennyson's play, and I hope to be
able to do so. I fear Englishmen will take a poor view of
Americans, and their reception of Lord Tennyson's work, from
"The Herald," which, I am sorry to say, is more read in Eng-
land, and more quoted, than any other journal from here, —
and it is to be deeply regretted that such an incompetent and
conceited and brutal numskull should be allowed to write as he
does of the noble work ]\Ir. Daly has so beautifully and gener-
ously produced. . . .

Yours always,

Richard Mansfield.

The play, by Tennyson, to which this letter
alludes, is "The Foresters," which was produced at
Daly's Theatre, New York, March 18, 1892, and
was performed there, much to the enjoyment of the
public, till the afternoon of April 23, — the season
closing that night, with "As You Like It." In
"The Foresters" Ada Rehan acted Marian, and
gave a beautiful performance. That play was
originally written for Henry Irving, who suggested
to Tennyson the introduction of the Fairies, and
had intended to act the gallant and generous outlaw,
Robin Hood, wliile Ellen Terry would have assumed
the character of Marian: but, ultimately, Irving

HIS CLUB ROOM 165

did not find the drama practicable for liis use. Later
it was obtained by Daly, who, with the author's
reluctant consent, made changes in it, — transposing
an act and providing ingenious and beautiful
pageantry, with lovely music, by Sir Arthur SulU-
van, — and successfully produced it.

Various obstacles prevented an immediate meeting
between Daly and JNIansfield, though both were
wishful that it should occur. Meanwliile the actor
wrote as follows:

4 West 28th Street,

March 28, 1892.
My Dear Winter: —

I suppose I ought to have been more explicit in my telegram
to you, or did you, perhaps, never get it? I suggested a meet-
ing for last evening, and I hoped you would come; refused
some invitations, and passed a solitary and doleful night, —
most mournful.

I should be very happy to meet Mr. Daly, if it can be done,
and have a good long talk with him, — but we are both busy
men; / especially so, just now, with all these preparations going
forward. But any night you say — here, where no one will see
us; after the play; we three, and pipes, in my Club Room. (I
have a Club Room all to myself — it is my own Club — I have
elected you President — it is called "The Winter Club" — we
have churchwarden pipes — at least I have — and drinks; there
are three pictures on the wall in the room: Winter, the Prince

of Wales, and myself — and I'm d if I know which of the

three is the greater villain !)

If this — if anything — is to be done in this matter, it must be
brought about at once, as otherwise I shall have to close with the
Fifth Avenue Theatre; stay out of New York altogether I

166 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

cannot. I want to see you at once, on many subjects. " Nero,"
of course, you can read — if you want to: / shouldn't! Will
you come up to-morrow? — if so I'll sleep until four in the
afternoon, and get up to receive you.

I have lost about $8,000 this time, in New York, and I am
feeling particularly light and buoyant; there is no heavy,
weighty, bloated, ponderance about me! I'm all for lightness
and airiness; in fact, I shouldn't wonder if I went up — up —
up, altogether. Come and see me. Would Mr. Daly drop all
ceremony, and come with you .'' Or must we all be Dry-as-dusts .''
Ever your grateful friend,

Richard Mansfield.

An appointment was made. The high contract-
ing powers were to meet. Good results might have
followed. I cannot tell, nor does it signify now.
Mansfield, always quick at taking fancies, was at
times suspicious and prone to believe himself the
object of wily intrigue. I was not surprised, accord-
ingly, to receive the subjoined letter, which suffi-
ciently indicated that these negotiations would reach
no practical result.

4 West 28th Street,

April 1, 1892.
My Dear Winter: —

I am sorry I could not meet Mr. Daly on Wednesday, for I

play a matinee on that day. It would be out of the question

for me to give up my position as an actor and enter Mr. Daly's

company. Why should I.'' My profits, according to my books,

show $2,000 a week. If I spend it, that is my business. But

it will be time enough when I am a failure to think of stepping

down from my perch. I desire to do great plays and to do

them greatly, and I desire to do new things. The world must

A CORRESPONDENCE 167

move on — on — not back, and I shall move on also; perhaps
up — perhaps out. Always yours,

Richard Mansfield.

N. B. — I need not say that I shall be most happy to meet
Mr. Daly — I have long desired to know him.

Mansfield and Daly met and talked, for an hour,
on April 6, — not in my presence, but I was sub-
sequently informed of their interview. Notliing
came of it. JNlansfield, however, at that time,
declared Daly to be a delightful man. Each pos-
sessed strong will, dogged determination, and great
self-confidence. Both could be charming, when they
wished to be ; neither was readily compHable with cir-
cumstances. They never could have agreed. They
continued to correspond, however, for some time, and
this episode of theatrical liistory is instructively
illustrated by the letters that Mansfield addressed
to Daly, while the project of their alliance was under
consideration.

4 West 28th Street,

New York, April 8, 1892.
My Dear Mr. Daly: —

We are in such a rush and whirl of work, and I have such
a peculiarly hard day's work before me, that I cannot come
across to see you, as I sliould wish to do. And I do not even
know that I can very clearly reply to your question.

One thing is very distinct in my mind, and that is the impossi-
bility and the inadvisability of making an appearance here other-

168 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

wise than as a star of the first magnitude. I owe that much
to the managers of other cities, who render me 65, 70 and 80
per cent, of the receipts. Otherwise I am glad and happy (more
happy than I can say) to make any arrangement whereby I
should gain the benefit of your advice and experience and your
admirable management.

It seems to me that, as I should have to travel with the
production, instantly upon the termination of the season at your
Theatre, I should be supported by the company that has played
with me there. It seems to me that that company should be
selected and engaged by you, and that they should be under
your direction: of course this company should be engaged with
a view to its ability to play my repertoire, as many cities require
me to play such plays of mine as have become popular, and
in very many cities I have not yet appeared at all — I think I
should like: "Mr. Richard Mansfield supported by Mr. Daly's
Company and under the management of Mr. Augustin Daly."

It seems to me that, with my strength in the country, this
combination would be as successful as the late Barrett and Booth
arrangement — and more satisfactory — in New York proper.
Whenever I play at your Theatre I am satisfied with a salary —
or any arrangement you would make. I should stipulate that
Miss Cameron should always appear in my support, if there is
any suitable part.

It's a great pity I may not see you. I do not think letters
are satisfactory — there is so much to be said pro and con. I
leave to-morrow, at 4.30, from Weehawken. If you would be
very gracious and take a day off? I have my car and we could
settle everything and chat quietlj^ — but, as I have already said,
any arrangement whereby I am enabled to give all my attention
to acting, and which does not lessen my position but which must
heighten my position, is satisfactory to me.

With kindest regards and a thousand apologies for this inco-
herent scrawl.

Most truly yours always,

Richard Mansfield.

AUGUSTIX DALY IX 1892

GOOD INTENTIONS 169

On Private Car.

Los Angeles, May 20, 1892.
My Dear Mr. Daly: —

I thank you for your letter, and which I was awaiting with
impatience. I quite comprehend all you say, and I wish with
all my heart that it could be otherwise. I would very gladly
give up a large share of my profits to be with such a master
as you, and to be guided and directed by you. But I cannot
sink my identity, and I cannot give up the little I have accom-
plished in the past years of incessant labor. My name must
be upon my banner as the actor; — the management, and all
authority and authorship, I will joyfully relinquish.

I am exceedingly ambitious and I confess it. I desire to
produce great plays and to play them greatly, and with God's
aid I shall accomplish this. If I could have such a man as
you by my side it would be accomplished sooner. I have no
Theatre, I have no workshop, I have little or no management.
I should like to acquire the management and the workshop
and I should like advice and guidance. I cannot very well see
myself always — which is as unfortunate as it is fortimate.

The scheme I had in mind does not seem to mieet with your
approval. It was simply that, when your own special company
was away from your Theatre, you should play me and my
company, or me supported by a company of yours. But, failing
this, I shall be glad to play in your Theatre, and I shall be
very glad and very grateful for your advice. If this meets
with your approval all that remains is for us to arrange the
time, and to settle on the play. If for the latter you can advise
me, or if you can supply me, I should indeed be glad.

I had almost ventured to hope that you would take sufficient
interest in me to find the play and the company, and whatever
terms you might indicate I should be most happy to accept.

]\Iy books are always open to you, and you will see that I
make an average profit (with an expense of $2,200, — $2,300 a
week), of from $1,000 to $2,000 a week; my responsibilities
in the past have been very heavy, and are so still, and I could

170 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

not therefore afford to do less well than I have been^ and am,
doing.

Please believe me to be, dear Mr. Daly, with great regard.
Always yours truly,

KicHARD Mansfield.
To Augustin Daly, Esqr.

Portland, Ore.,

Monday, June 6, 1892.
My Dear Mr. Daly: —

I am in receipt of your letter, for which accept my best
thanks. I have said I shall be delighted to play with you and
under your direction.

With regard to M. Coquelin's version of "The Taming of
the Shrew": it occurs to me that it would be quaint to play
a Frenchman's version of Shakespeare translated back into Eng-
lish. It seems to me "une chose impossible." I might play
it in French and I should be glad to do so — but in English, No
• — it would be too queer. I fear there could be but one cry:
What is the matter with Shakespeare?

Then, too, who could play Katharina after Miss Rehan? Who
would? I fear this is not to be done, unless — as I have said —
I did it in French.

Jerome's translation of "Die Ehre," on the other hand, seems
an excellent idea, and one I should be glad to entertain, if,
after reading the play, I find the character I should have to
present suitable and interesting, — which, since you think it so,
no doubt it is. (I interject a little idea here — some day, when
we want to sweep the country, let us play "The ^lerchant of
Venice," — Miss Rehan as Portia, and for me Shyloch, with an
ideal Venice. Lewis as Launcelot Gobbo, etc., etc.)

The terms you mention are perfectly satisfactory. It would
be, in my opinion — and I speak from experience — idle to open
with "Beau Brummell/' or any of my well-worn plays, in New
York. We need more than a success d'estime, — we need money,
and "Beau B." will not, for a year to come, draw one dollar

NAPOLEON 171

in New York. Nor any of my plays, excepting "Richard III./*
and of that I have no longer the scenery.

I have an idea, which I advance with considerable hesitation,
and which has been in my mind for some years, and in which,
from what I can gather, there is a large amount of money, but
it will, in its execution, demand an enormous amount of care
and thought, some literary effort and some money. It is
"Napoleon Bonaparte." I should call the play simply "Napoleon
Bonaparte," and I should deal with the subject from the period
of his assumption of the imperial purple to the time of his
lonely death on the Island of St. Helena.

I wonder if you would help me with this? It would make
a great popular play; it would appeal to all classes and all
peoples. I should make Mme. Rdcamier the heroine. I should
introduce the beloved Queen Louisa of Prussia, Josephine, and
Marie Louise of Austria. I beg you, in any event, to consider
this suggestion absolutely confidential, and it is, I feel, hardly
necessary for me to say this. I do not know where to address
this, so I send it to the Hollis Street Theatre, in the hope that
it may reach you.

I do earnestly hope I may be able to arrange to play in your
home, but it has to be swiftly decided, as others are waiting
to hear from me with regard to that time (in September).

Most truly yours,

Richard Mansfield.

After this affair had passed, as there was no
secret about the matter, I chanced to mention to
Irving my propitious view of a professional alhance
between Mansfield and Miss Rehan. He smiled,
in his satiric manner, and playfully remarked:
"Very interesting — ah, yes, very. So you wanted to
put another Richmond in the field, eh? Daly's

172 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

been up to that for a long time: he wanted Terriss
to leave me and come over to him." Well; there
cannot be too many Richmonds in the field; every
good actor in a position of influence is a stimulant
to other good actors, and so I told him, and with that
rational proposition he fully agreed.

The only practical result of the correspondence
was an agreement that Mansfield's next appearance
in the capital should be made at Daly's Theatre.

Daly did not abandon his plan of forming a pro-
fessional combination to oppose that of Irving. He
not only negotiated with William Terriss, — an actor
whose performances of Squire Thornhill, in "Olivia,"
and Henry the Second, in "Becket," had he done
nothing else, were such as entitle him to honorable
remembrance in theatrical annals, — but also con-
templated a proposal of the project to Herbert
Beerbohm-Tree, and he once thought of effecting it
with Mr. Kyrle Bellew — who, indeed, in association
with Mrs. Cora Urquhart Potter, acted under his
management, in the season of 1895-'96. At the
last it was his purpose to accomplish this design
by the choice of some young, rising actor, who
might prove amenable to his instruction; and he
encouraged high expectations as to the future of
both Sidney Herbert and Tyrone Power. His
untimely death, however, blasted that plan, together

IN CALIFORNIA 173

with many other plans and hopes for the advance-
ment and welfare of the stage.

In the spring of 1892 Mansfield made a visit to
that romantic section of our country, California.
He had been seen there as Rifflardini and Chevrial;
his advent, in new characters, was warmly welcomed.
He became, in time, exceedingly fond of CaH-
fornia, bought an orange ranch there, and even
thought of making his home there; but his first
impressions of the Golden State were not favorable,
and he communicated them to me, in a highly char-
acteristic strain of banter and censure. He knew
that I possessed a little cottage in the San Ber-
nardino Valley, near the wonderful Sierra JNIadre
range, to which I had expressed the intention to
retire, in order to spend, in peaceful seclusion, the
last days of a long, laborious Hfe, — a purpose which
he did not then deem wise. His California engage-
ment began on April 18, at the Baldwin Theatre,
San Francisco, with "Beau Brummell." This was
his first letter from the Pacific coast:

On my car.

Valencia & 25th Streets,

San Francisco, April 26, 1892.
My Dear Winter: —

Just a line to say all's well. Business not what many people
would have one imagine at a distance — but exceedingly good;

174 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

good enough to make a very handsome profit, and I don't
believe that anybody does any better.

They are queer people here, and very primitive; as for critics,
there are none, — but lots of flies; and one side of the street
is hot and the other side is cold, and there is an eternal
wind blowing, like the tide of doom — I suppose it's the trade-
wind.

Earthquakes too, we have — and they're very funny; nobody
seems to mind them at all. I am living on my car — it's like a
yacht, and they have moved me out to Valencia — twenty minutes'
ride, by cable car, from the Theatre. The air is good and there
are flowers growing all around. I am happy and comfortable,
out of the noises and the dust and the crowd and the jangle.
San Francisco is the noisiest and most depraved city I have
ever been in — it is quite horrible; and it takes a good deal to
shock me. . . .

Chinatown is interesting — it is a bit of old China trans-
planted— even the houses are Chinese: in the Theatre there, they
tell me, if an actor displeases, the audience shoots him ! Civiliza-
tion has not advanced as far as that with us — thank Heaven ! . . .

Always

Your true and grateful

Richard Mansfield.

While in San Francisco he gave performances
of Chevrial, Prince Karl, Titmouse, Nero, Jekyll
and Hyde, and Don Juan. He subsequently-
acted at Fresno, Los Angeles, Stockton, Sacra-
mento, Tacoma, Seattle, Portland, Ogden, Salt
Lake City, Denver, Lincoln, Sioux City, and Omaha,
ending his tour, at the latter city, on July 2. From
Los Angeles he wrote, in a vein of acrid discontent, —
yet the place in which, not long afterward, he was

DISCONTENT 175

inclined to settle and reside, is not a hundred miles
distant from that hospitable and charming city:

On Private Car; Los Angeles, Calif.,

May 20, 1892.
My Dear Winter: —

. . • Redlands may be very beautiful — but Los Angeles
is not. It is red hot just now, and the town is suffering from
scarlet fever and a religious meeting or convention: a person
of the name of Mills is exhorting the miserable wretches, to
the extent of 10,000 a day, to give up rum and everything
else he doesn't like. The city itself is not beautiful, and
everything is very primitive. The most painful feature of the
city and its immediate vicinity is the lack of foliage — there
are no trees, at least, very few, and therefore no shade. It
is all sunshine and dust. Irrigation costs a lot of money,
and there is no water.

England will suit you better. The eye has no rest here —
the mind no peace. Everybody is bragging — because there is
nothing to brag about; the beauty of the country, — its mar-
vellous resources; etc., etc., — is dinned into your ears with
painful insistence, until you long to say, "Damn your coun-
try !" — only one doesn't, and the result is that they really are
beginning to believe in their own lying. Redlands may be a
Paradise — but again, all this country is volcanic — earthquakes
are constant — the country shook again yesterday, and that
has an unpleasant sense of uncertainty and insecurity.

Give me England — give me its lanes and hedges, its fields,
the skylark, the soft blue sky, the purple haze on the middle
distance, the pools and brooks, the rush-fringed rivers, the
poplar and the willow, the old cobble church, the ruined arch
above the village street, the simple rustic, the country inn, the
home-brewed ale — give me England ! — and damn these electric
cars and cable cars, in a damned hot wilderness, where you
can't drink the damned alkali water, and where every man

176 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

has a right to spit upon your boots, slap you on the back, and
brag in your ear; where ignorance and arrogance own the day,
and where your gentleness, learning, or gentility are cursed and
derided ! You won't like it — you won't like it ! Sell it, and
come and live with me and mine, in dear, still old England.

Ever yours,

Richard Mansfield.

On his arrival home from the West he entered
immediately upon preparation for a presentment
of "The Scarlet Letter." A plaj'' had been written
for him by the English novelist Joseph Hatton,
and that subject, which he had long been consider-
ing, now engrossed his thoughts. In this case,
as in several kindred cases, he deemed that the
play required revision and alteration, and he revised
and altered it, preparatory to a private reading of it,
at my home.

4 West 28th Street, New York,

August 9, 1892.
My Dear Winter: —

It is hard work that keeps me here in mid-summer, and it is
for that reason that I have not yet made my trip to Staten
Island. I cannot come to you to-day, but I shall be with you
to-morrow evening (Wednesday), without fail.

I see no earthly reason why "The Scarlet Letter" should
not be put upon the stage, especially if we cling close to
Hawthorne. Surely there can be no ridiculous squeamishness
concerning the subject — there is hardly a great play that does
not deal with the same question, and "The Scarlet Letter" is
given to school-girls to read.

A FINE READING 177

As concerns Hawthorne, I have touched his work with great
reverence. As concerns my playing Dimmesdale, it is as it
may be.

Yours ever,

Richard Mansfield.

The reading was duly given, on that August
evening, the theme was much and freely discussed,
and the spirit of the actor, always supersensitive,
was, as far as possible, cheered and encouraged. I
did not, however, and could not, believe that the
subject of "The Scarlet Letter" would become
widely popular when presented on the stage; I
perceived not any exceptional felicity in the treat-
ment to which it had been subjected; and I did
not express the ardent conviction that the play would
fulfil all his hopes and wishes. Mansfield, usually
impatient under dissent from his opinions, did not
conceal his annoyance that the play was not received
with unbounded enthusiasm. His reading of it,
meanwhile, was dehghtful, — far more interesting
than any performance of it ever given: his sug-
gested impersonations, in particular, of the two old
beldames, Hartley and Barlow, were among the
most life-like, natural, and effective that it has been
my privilege to see; but he was not pleased on being
told that they were preferred to his suggested imper-
sonation of the wretched Dimmesdale, nor was he

178 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

tolerant of even the slightest douht of the avail-
ability of Hawthorne's story for theatrical illustra-
tion. There is no "question" in "The Scarlet
Letter," no "problem," no obtrusion of sophistical
reasoning about unclean subjects, under the pre-
tence of that sickening humbug the moral "lesson."
The tale is one of domestic tragedy. Objection
to it, for the purpose of the stage, in so far as
objection could be made, or has been made, rests
on its minutiae of mental analysis, its metaphysical
nature (for drama should concern itself more with
physics than with metaphysics), its pervasive
atmosphere of still and mute agony, and its dense,
unreheved gloom. It should be said, though, that
Mansfield accomplished more with this theme than
has been accomplished by any other actor that ever
touched it. The play was produced by him on
September 12, at Daly's Theatre, where it had a
run of three weeks. His embodiment of Dimmes-
dale was, from the first, deeply interesting to stu-
dents of acting, but it was not, at the outset, the
rounded, compact, sympathetic performance which
subsequently it became, — for, in time, it largely
gained in authority, distinction, and finish, and, at its
best, was deeply impressive by reason of its melan-
choly beauty, its pathos, and its thrilling outbursts
of tragic emotion.

Photoyraph, Elite Studio

VII.

1893.

Aftee the close (October 1, 1892) of his engage-
ment at Daly's Theatre in "The Scarlet Letter,"
theatrical enterprise in New York being uncom-
monly active and dramatic attractions being many
and strong, Mansfield deemed it expedient to make
a long tour, and he was not again seen in the
capital until the autumn of the following year.
In the meantime he acted in many cities, through-
out the South and West, and made another visit
to the Pacific coast; and it happened that, in the
spring of 1893, we met in California, under circum-
stances that were especially agreeable.

San Francisco, on Private Car at

Valencia & 25th Streets,

May 4, 1893.
My Dear Winter: —

I was both delighted and surprised to hear from you and to
discover that you are so near — and yet so far. Certes I must
see you! You will see from the enclosed that we shall shortly
be in your neighborhood, and where will you join us? It
would, I presume, be futile to ask you to come here? Shall
it be in Riverside? How I envy you — and yet rejoice to know
of — that rest and peace you will find at Mentone. I should

179

180 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

like to visit you and peek into it all; but I must hammer, ham-
mer, hammer, on the hard, hard road! and there is no rest.
Moreover I am awake day and night, wondering what I am
going to do next. Since nobody writes plays, and nobody
cares for those that have been written, I am in the utmost
despair. To present Shakespeare requires a fortune, and I
will not risk the little I have saved, in one venture. More-
over, it is time Somebody did a little acting, and if I'm to
give out my money I would rather bestow it where it will
accomplish some lasting benefit and not squander it in paint
and canvas and tinsel, of which I have already a vast store-
house full, the contents of which won't fetch $5.00 and for

which I pay $700 a year rent — like a d fool! And

spent $40,000 or more on the d ed stuff. It's like that

elephant you told me of: "That damned beast eats a ton of
hay for breakfast!" I'm for plays without scenery — and
without costumes, and in the latter respect I think I shall be
hitting the fancy of the present day on the very head! How-
ever, join me, and we will curse and damn everybody and
everything to the Queen's taste — if she has any. . . .

Yours ever,

Richard Mansfield.

They tell me Clement Scott has been here, and met a lady
by appointment, and married her, and is full of curious
ideas concerning Japan, — where he spent a day; he has also
acquired a great and sudden admiration for America and
Americans. Thank the Lord he isn't here now; or I might see
him — and I don't imagine anything more horrible, for he
always gives me the impression of a person who is just about
to burst.

We met at Riverside, where he acted before a
numerous and enthusiastic audience, and from that
place travelled to San Bernardino, and being then

MENTONE 181

only twelve miles from my California home I was
able to persuade him to come, with Mrs. Mansfield,
and pass a day in our village. They came, accord-
ingly, in his private car, which was placed on a side-
track till evening, — when it would be needful for
him to return to San Bernardino, to give a per-
formance. Mentone is situated near the eastern
extremity of one of the most beautiful valleys in
the world. Eastward and northward the prospect
is bounded by magnificent, rugged, snow-capped
mountains. Southward there is a rolling country,
backed by a view of distant mountain peaks. West-
ward the spacious, widening valley, — here sprinkled
with wild flowers and blooming with orange groves
and vineyards, there bleak with broad, uncultivated
stretches of "brush," — slopes gradually to the ocean,
about ninety miles away. Mansfield no sooner saw
the place than he became fascinated by it. The day
was the 18th of May. The sunshine was glorious.
Great masses of white cloud, — infrequent in those
summer skies, — were drifting over the mountains.
The cool air was fragrant "with the odor of roses
and lemon blossoms. The landscape was perfec-
tion. Flights of gleaming blackbirds winged over
the valley. The sweet, liquid song of the meadow-
lark was heard, mingled, now and then, with the
low, soft double call of the nesting doves. At that

182 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

time luxuriant rows of splendid trees fringed a
fine stream of rushing water, a few rods from our
dwelling. The whole region seemed a paradise.
For an hour or two the delighted actor amused
himself by rambling in the adjacent flower-spangled
plains. Then, having returned to the house, for
luncheon, he suddenly announced, "I must own a
ranch here!" No one could, at first, believe that
he was in earnest. "Is there a ranch for sale any-
where about?" he asked. Orange groves were, gen-
erally, "for sale" in California at that time, — it is
even possible to purchase them now, — and he was
informed that several neighboring groves were in
the market, and that the nearest one, comprising
twenty acres, had only lately been offered, at a price
which was deemed reasonable. In an instant he rose,
seized his hat, and started for the door. "Come with
me, and let me see it," he said; and, of course, his
wish was gratified, — since it was not, and could not
be, supposed that he would, at once, without the least
examination of the matter, precipitate himself into
the business of raising oranges. The grove in ques-
tion, duly burdened with the inevitable mortgage,
was in possession of an old man and his wife. The
quiet little hamlet had been much excited by the
arrival of the distinguished actor, currently supposed
to be another Croesus, and those old persons were

A PIG IN A POKE 183

equally startled and enraptured on suddenly finding
him at their door, intent on buying an estate which
they were only too glad to sell. To them the advent
of Mansfield, as a purchaser, seemed nothing less
than a special providence, for they looked on him
as another Vanderbilt or Huntington, the pos-
sessor of fabulous wealth. Their genuine awe, in
the august presence, did not, however, so far dis-
sipate a sense of thrift as to prevent them from
instantly raising the price of the property to a figure
much higher than had previously been named. The
moment it was mentioned Mansfield, without the
slightest demur, agreed to pay it. A whispered
warning, that he was being imposed upon and should
pause and consider, was brusquely disregarded.
"The affair is settled," he said: "Z am buying this
ranch. Besides, these old people want to sell it,
and they need the money. I like old people. I am
always sorry for them. They need sympathy. We
shall all be old, if we live long enough. Let us go
and tell Beatrice." The agreement to buy an estate
having been thus calmly and rationally made, —
without a preliminary glance by which to ascertain
anything about its condition, or even an inquiry as
to how much of the land was under cultivation, —
Mansfield accepted an orange, a "Mediterranean
sweet," — the only orange, as it happened, that ever

184 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

came to him from his ranch, — and, returning to
my cottage, announced to Mrs. Mansfield, in the
deep, booming voice he sometimes used when pleased
and playful: "Bee-ah-trice, you are now the owner
of an orange grove!" A day or two later, at Los
Angeles, the legal obhgation, unhappily, was
assumed, — Mansfield paying $1,000 and signing
a contract to pay the rest, or forfeit his investment.
He was earnestly, urgently, and in good time advised
against this rash transaction, — for the judgment of
Mrs. Mansfield, and of all his friends, was opposed
to it : but he would not be prevented. The most that
friendly interposition could effect was a reduction of
the price stipulated, from $15,000 to $13,500. The
ranch proved to be in a bad condition, — a consider-
able part of it not having been even cleared of
"brush" and stones. The price charged for it was,
under then existing conditions, exorbitant. The
ultimate result of the business was not only Mans-
field's loss of the property and more than $3,000 that
he had paid, but a protracted, wearisome, vexatious,
iniquitous litigation. The season of 1893-'94< was
full of troubles for him. His losses were heavy.
His health was seriously impaired. He could not
make the payments that he had agreed to make. The
orange grove which thus distressed him and thus
sHpped out of his hands has since been well culti-

A SPECULATION 185

vated and has become very valuable. He called it
"Mansfield," and, for a time, built golden dreams
upon its ownersliip. It is marked, to this day, by a
flower-covered pyramid of stones, in front of a crazy
old house, — a relic of the beginning of abortive
plans for a beautiful garden. I have always
regretted that he ever saw the geranium hedges, the
oleanders, and the red and yellow roses of beauti-
ful Mentone. His proceedings, on the occasion of
his visit to the retreat, however, afford an illumina-
tive, authentic glimpse of his impulsive character
and heedless prodigality.

Mansfield's purchase of that orange farm, in such
a haphazard way, was manifestly injudicious, yet
beneath its recklessness there was a practical purpose,
and one which, under favorable conditions, might
have been prosperously effected. Later he dis-
closed that purpose to me, speaking to this effect:

"We will send to Scotland and secure, from the
Dundee Company, the services of some man experi-
enced in the manufacture of marmalade. Tons of it
are eaten in this country, every year. It can be
manufactured here better than in Scotland: here is
the fresh fruit, and good markets are within reach,
and even New York is no further from us than from
them, — though the freight is higher. We will estab-
lish our factory here : we will build up a business and

186 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

gradually expand it; acquire more groves; put out
lemons, olives, and figs, and, under the name of
Mansfield, establish a fine paying industry. If we
fail elsewhere, we have then this retreat: if we suc-
ceed here, we have a source of income to sustain us
in theatrical enterprise when we wish." — In his
sanguine speculative mood this dreamer omitted to
consider that, if the ranch as well as the acting
were to fail, he would indeed have an elephant on
his hands, and one that would, in the matter of
"hay for breakfast," require considerably more than
one ton.

At the time of his purchase at Mentone it was
not easy to restrain him from other rash ventures
of the same kind. In one of his letters, after leaving
California, he wrote:

"I think if an offer were made of $1,000 cash, for ten
acres, adjoining my property, toward the Santa Ana river,
it would be accepted, for what they all want is Cash! I do
not know who owns that land, but I should like to extend my
property that way, for I think the land is just as good there,
and I want to grow things, and not to speculate. If it can be
done, a check for $1,000 can be had from me, on receipt of
the title. On this ten acres I should like to have a pond built,
and olives planted."

As Mansfield did not know by whom that land
was owned, and as he was absent from the scene.

EDWIN BOOTH 187

it was possible to restrain his alacrity of invest-
ment in agricultural enterprise, but for a few weeks
he continued to be wildly enthusiastic about his
orange grove. Some of the plans that he made
during the continuance of that day-dream indicate
both the generosity of his disposition and his innate
love of beauty. I know not with how many impe-
cunious veterans he purposed to populate his
dominions in Mentone; they were numerous; and
he dwelt with evident feehng on the prospect of
the comfort they would find there. Nothing came
of either his business scheme or his philanthropy,
and it was a blessed rehef for all when finally he
relinquished that property and freed himself from
the harpies of legal persecution.

In this year, 1893, died that great actor and
greater man, Edwin Booth, one of the noblest and
gentlest human beings that ever I have known.
More and more, as the years have passed and as I
have studied the men, the actors and the acting
made known in their passage, my conviction has
been deepened of his greatness in the dramatic art
and of the beauty of his character, the dignity of
his hfe, and the sweet influence that he exercised,
and left. Mansfield, leaving California and pro-
ceeding on his tour, was apprised of this bereave-
ment, and was moved thus to mention it.

188 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

Butte, Montana,

June, 13, 1893.
My Dear Winter: —

. . . I sympathize with you greatly, in the loss of your
friend — but you should not say he is the last. What I — I — I,
am I — nothing? Do you bite your thumb at me? There is
much drivel being written about the last actor. If there is
demand there will be supply. For my part, let me cultivate
oranges and not opinions.

You should have stayed with us on the car — it's your own
fault you didn't. We are here in snow and ice — it's awful.
I'm so cold I can barely write. (Whew! "barely," how that
word makes me shiver — I'm sorry I used it.) Yes, the plain,
the mountains — were all covered with snow, this morning.

It's a d , dreary — desolate — dirty place. All furnaces

and factories and mines, mines, mines — and dirty Indians and
smutty- faced miners, and the greed of gold in every eye.
Crowded house last night — but I do not know what they

thought of Brummell — I fancy they opinioned he was a d

fool!

I enclose a few penny and shilling curses, for you to dis-
tribute among your friends, and I desire finally to say that,
if you will have the decency to join us, on June 24, in Colo-
rado Springs, I will show you the finest sight on God's earth —
to wit "The Garden of the Gods," which there is nothing more
sublime in the way of spectacle: and we will then carry you
East with us, nolens volens. With more curses.

Yours faithfully ever,

Richard.

his seal!

The most painful chapter in the history of Mans-
field's professional career began with his return
to the Atlantic coast and his re-entrance in New
York in the autumn of 1893. He was bitterly dis-

"THUS BAD BEGINS" 189

satisfied with the circumstances of his fortune; he
considered himself the victim of reprehensible pubKc
neglect; and he had become greatly incensed against
foreign actors, and especially against Henry Irving,
whom he now determined professionally to oppose,
by producing "The INIerchant of Venice" and acting
Shylockj and, immediately afterward, producing
"Twelfth Night," and acting Malvolio. It was, of
course, right that he should choose those parts, or
any other available part, irrespective of the achieve-
ments of other actors. With "Twelfth Night" he
might have prospered: as Malvolio, that greatly
conceived, intricately wrought, and man^ellously
sustained and expressed personification of self-
love, he would have given a great performance.
On the other hand, it was unwise to choose
Shylock, at that critical time, when the memory
of Edwin Booth's potential and thrilUng persona-
tion of the part still lingered, and when Irving's
wonderful embodiment of it possessed a prodigious
popularity and was actually in public view. This
point is equally beside consideration of either Mans-
field's aptitude for the character or his rank as
an actor: it is one of management, — which he
liked to call "generalship," and in which, con-
trary to his belief, he was often at fault. However
excellent and deserving as an actor he may then

190 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

have been, public opinion had not accepted him as
another Booth, and it had accepted Irving's per-
formance of Shyloch as representative and incom-
parable. The time, furthermore, was unpropitious
for any costly enterprise, the business of the whole
country having been prostrated by "panic." It was
known, for example, and Mansfield knew it by per-
sonal experience, that "people, and rich people, were
paying for theatre tickets with i. o. u.'s." Only a
few months earlier he had explicitly declared his
aversion to the making of a revival of Shakespeare,
and risking his savings in one venture, saying, "If
I am to give out my money, I would rather
bestow it where it will accomplish some lasting
benefit." That preference was wise, for the situa-
tion had become perilous, and in theatrical circles,
all over the land, there was an anxious sense of
insecurity. The theatre-going public had but little
money to spend on "amusements," and, naturally,
that money was expended for the pleasure of seeing
such exhibitions as were then the most prominent
and celebrated. Henry Ir\ang and Ellen Terry,
with elaborate and beautiful productions of diversi-
fied and interesting plays, and with an exceptionally
fine dramatic company, were traversing the country,
and, as it happened, the tide of popular interest was
flowing more strongly and steadily in their favor than

IMPRUDENCE 191

in that of any of their competitors. Ellen Terry's
acting, — especially her superb personation of Portia,
much the best that has been seen in our time, — would,
in itself, have been almost sufficient to have caused
that effect. A more inauspicious moment, surely,
could not have been selected for the making of a
costly Shakespearean revival and for the present-
ment of a new Shylock, — a character possessing no
intrinsic charm, but, when truthfully embodied, being
barbarous and repellent, the victorious theatrical
employment of which has always been found to
depend either upon colossal power or marvellous
intellectual subtlety in the actor of it, or upon super-
latively fine acting in the auxihar parts, or upon
splendor of environment, or upon all these com-
bined. Yet that was the moment and that was the
character selected by INIansfield, for a venture, which,
even under favorable circumstances, might have
seemed of dubious expediency. On October 9, 1893,
he began an engagement in New York, at a little
theatre called Herrmann's, in the second story of a
building at the southwest corner of Broadway and
Twenty-ninth Street, — a theatre well adapted for
the exhibition of a conjuror's tricks, for which it
was intended, but absolutely unsuitable for the pre-
sentment of a Shakespearean play, — and there, after
acting, in rapid succession, Brummell, Chevrial,

192 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

Dimmesdale, and Jekyll and Hyde, he produced
"The Merchant of Venice," October 23, and for the
first time performed Shyloch. By what means
he succeeded in placing his elaborate production
upon that diminutive stage it was difficult to under-
stand. At a later time, when Herrmann's Theatre
had become the Princess Theatre, and the stage
had been rebuilt and enlarged, the proscenium open-
ing was only twenty-five feet wide, the distance
between the curtain-hne and the back wall was only
twenty-three feet, and a "forty-foot drop" could
not be used on the stage. Mansfield's scenic dis-
play, accordingly, was mutilated. His performance
of the Jew, which is described and commemorated
elsewhere in this memoir, wliile, necessarily, it lacked
clarity and completeness, was remarkable for sus-
tained vigor and for points of exceptional merit.
The presentment, however, as a whole, was inade-
quate, and it did not arouse the ardent enthusiasm
that he had expected it to inspire. My profes-
sional duty as a dramatic reviewer was minutely,
thoughtfully, and zealously fulfilled, and Mansfield's
acting of Shyloch received at my hands a liberal
measure of sympathetic recognition. He thought
otherwise; he decided that he had been treated
with malicious injustice; "deserted"; "neglected";
"persecuted"; "damned!" His letters to me became

Photoijraph h.n Windoir and drove, London

ELLEN TERRY AS PORTIA

HARD WORDS 193

insufferable, and, at last, I felt constrained to
request him not to write to me again. "A friend
should bear a friend's infirmities," but there are times
when the most inveterate patience tires. Mansfield
had been driven into a sort of frenzy, by failures,
disappointments, care, and incipient sickness. The
following is a mild specimen of his epistolary pro-
ductions at that time, addressed to me:

. . . Damn your criticisms ! No man can keep me back
for long! You can injure my pocket, and you certainly have —
on occasions ! I had a deuce of a time getting our only
patrons, the Jews, to come and see "The Merchant," because
you made me out a fiend and a vulture. $8,000 more of
my hard-earned dollars gone; and you impractical Devil —
what do I — am I — can I, live on? Air? Do you think I am
eternally to sweat and labor for no earthly return? . . .

I have been harassed and worried and hounded, beyond all
endurance. It seems I must even suffer in silence! It seems
that I must never look forward to anything but a life of
work ! . . .

Irving has been feting the critics here (in Chicago) and I
have again found the trail of the serpent and its slime!
I have even an accurate and verbatim report of his conver-
sation with them, — one of his not least amazing declarations
being that he is to present "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," in
London. That being the play in which I should make my
re-entree there, his Snake-ship will, snake-like, forestall
me! ...

In other letters he vented his resentment of
fancied injuries, in language still more intemperate,

194 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

not to say vituperative. He had not, in fact, been
represented as either "a fiend" or "a vulture," in
his performance of Shylock. On the contrary, his
ideal of the part, in so far as it could be clearly
discerned, had been designated as correct, and por-
tions of his expression of it had been highly extolled,
— as they deserved to be. It had not, however,
been stated that he made Shakespeare's Jew a noble,
righteous, virtuous, admirable, sympathetic person,
whom the Hebrew inhabitants of the country should
eagerly hasten to behold; and eventually I learned
that the omission of some such testimony as that was
his principal "grievance." If he had so represented
Shylock his performance would have deserved, and
would have received, explicit condemnation, for the
Jew of "The Merchant of Venice" is a specious,
treacherous, mahgnant, bloody-minded person, and
all theories that conceive of liim as anything else
are chimerical, — ^being unwarranted by the text of
the play. At one time, long ago, I was misled, in
the study of that subject, by the ingenious com-
mentaries of Ludwig Borne and Victor Hugo, and
by various old records, such as those wliich glow-
ingly commemorate the acting, in Shylock, of such
chieftains as Edmund Kean and James William
Wallack. Shakespeare's text is the only true guide,
and it leads, inevitably, to a different and very

"REALISM" 195

clear conclusion. It is, unquestionably, true that
an actor who would evoke public sympathy with
Shylock must emphasize a human side of the char-
acter, and that is what Mansfield, probably, intended
to do, and thought that he had done. What he
actually did, however, was to present Shylock, sub-
stantially, in the manner that is prescribed by the
Jew's words and deeds, and by the words and deeds
of persons who are associated with liim, — blurring
his performance, from time to time, by an incon-
gruous effort to arouse compassion.

An objectionable feature of Mansfield's assump-
tion of Shylocky as first displayed, was realism of
treatment : at the words, for example, with which the
Jew greets Antonio, "Your worship was the last
man in our mouths," he expressed Shylock's "loath-
ing" for the Merchant by literally spitting upon
the stage, — a kind of "business" of which he then
approved, but in the customary use of which he,
happily, did not persist. He was versatile and
ingenious in his artistic method, from the first, but
it was not until he had matured his art, by years of
practical experience, that he discarded, — in so far as
he ever did discard, — the expedients of reahsm.
In giving his first performance of "Dr. Jekyll
and Mr. Hyde," for example, — when that play
was produced in Boston (1887), — at the moment.

196 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

in the first act, when Hyde leaps upon Sir Danvers
Carew, hurls him to the floor, and strangles him,
Mansfield lost control of himself and so maltreated
the representative of Sir Danvers^ the late Mr.
Boyd Putnam (1865-1908), that the injured victim
of realism fainted, repeatedly, and was with diffi-
culty recovered. At another point in the same play,
when Hyde interrogates the hag, Rebecca Moore,
as to the personal appearance of a man who has
called to see him, Mansfield suddenly turned up
toward her a distorted, hideous, diabolical counte-
nance, and, growhng forth the inquiry, "Like me?'\
druled at the mouth. Such "real" expedients are
not only unnecessary but unartistic. Acting is not
Nature, but the imitation of Nature. "Real tears,"
for instance, which some players can readily pro-
duce, are not effective, unless they are perfectly
controlled. When blows are given, the semblance
of a blow is all that is required. Many years ago
that raw, crude, boisterous actor, John Wilkes
Booth, who had heard of some of the crazy actions
of his father, the great Junius, and thought they
should be imitated, drove an antagonist in a stage
conflict completely over the foothghts and into the
orchestra pit. His brother, Edwin Booth, on the
contrary, one of the greatest artists that have adorned
the stage, — and, specifically, the greatest tragedian

ARTISTIC GROWTH 197

of his time, — when he had occasion to strike a blow,
seemed to dehver a stroke that was tremendous, but,
in fact, when his hand touched a confederate actor
the actual touch was as soft as velvet. That process
illustrates acting. Art is free from extravagance; is
the product of perfect self-control. Mansfield was
slow in learning that truth, but he did learn it,
and, to a large extent, his mature acting exemplified
it. Indeed, a gradual progress of development,
such as attends the experience of all fine actors,
was especially notable in his acting. Every part that
he played was polished by continuous work upon
its details and in the process of repetition. His
style grew more and more refined as the years
passed and as experience broadened his view and
chastened his taste. His ambition, furthermore, was
not deadened by either disappointment, trouble,
sickness, or sorrow. Had his life and health been
spared a little longer he would have attempted the
great characters of Macbeth and King Lear, and
it is not unreasonable to believe that, in those colossal
fabrics of imagination and feeling, he would have
gained substantial and lasting renown.

"Damn your criticisms," it has been noted, was his
fervent ejaculation on finding that his SJiyloch had
not been hailed as a heavenly Hebrew father, and,
especially, had not been acclaimed as superior to

198 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

the Shyloch of Irving. His propensity to brood
upon what he considered malign influence pro-
ceeding from that foreign actor was now much
intensified, and it kept him in a continual state
of seething exasperation. In this he was singu-
larly unfortunate and radically mistaken. Irving,
many years older than Mansfield, had earned and
gained the leadership of the English stage, and
had obtained international renown, before Mans-
field's star arose, and, at the time when they met,
he was at the summit of a great and abundantly
prosperous career. He never considered Mansfield
as a rival, any more than Edwin Booth did, and
he would not have tried to injure him or to thwart
his progress, even if he had so considered him.
Mansfield had planned to act Richard the Third,
before resolving to go to London, and his present-
ment of that tragedy in the British capital, — an
expensive enterprise, — was not undertaken by advice
of Irving or of anybody else, but solely by liis
own will, and the outcome of his London season,
1888-'89, first at the Lyceum and afterward at
the Globe,— the loss, that is to say, of $167,000,—
was not due to the hostile machinations of any
indi\adual or any combination of individuals, but
to the simple, decisive fact, which is the cause of all
theatrical disasters, that the pubhc did not award to

BICKERING 199

his costly productions that amount of practical sup-
port which was imperatively necessary for the pay-
ment of his large expenses. When he left England,
in 1889, he was in debt to Irving, and it seems to
have been his conviction that his lack of sulSicient
public patronage had been caused by the insidious
hostility of that actor. The notion was as deplor-
able as it was fallacious, and, eventually, it caused
much unhappiness. Mansfield was impulsive, and,
when excited, prone to reckless speech. There is
no reason to doubt that he believed what he said,
at the time he said it, when he attributed his ill-
fortune to enmity on the part of Irving; but he
had no reason to believe it, his talk was wild, and
more than once, after his arrival home, in 1889,
I besought him to restrain liis words, to discard his
delusion, and to make all possible haste in the settle-
ment of the Lyceum business. That counsel he then
received in kindness: "I will, and have borne in
mind all you say about Irving" (so he wrote,
October 25, 1889) ; "I will have none but the kind-
est feelings: the business part of it shall be attended
to at once." His sensible resolution did not prevail
over his fretful ill-humor. He continued to inveigh
against the phantom foe of his angry fancy. His
censorious words drifted to Irving's knowledge, —
calumny, as usual, being carried by "the birds of

200 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

the air," — and that actor (a loyal friend and a "good
hater"), bitterly resentful of injustice, retaliated by
taking legal steps for the recovery of the money that
Mansfield owed to him, and also by purchase, from
the London publishers, of the rights to use the
story of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" on the Eng-
hsh stage. The debt was paid. Mansfield, much
as he sometimes grumbled and vapored, never
intended to wrong Irving, or to wrong anybody
else. The following entry, copied from the Ledger
of the London Lyceum Theatre, appears in the
copious, minute, interesting "Life of Henry Irving,"
by Austin Brereton:

£1675 lef
Also £1000 Lo

; owing by
an.

loan and
rent and
law fees .

Mr. Mar

interest .
interest,

sfield for rent.

.£1180 16 8
.£1476 14 10

£2675.
1894 Recv'd
1896 Recv'd
Less

£2675

11

6

The good news of the adjustment of tliis affair, by
the removal of an irksome cause of mutual dis-
content, was communicated to me by Mansfield, and
was recognized with these words:

AS TO FRIENDSHIP 201

I received your letter, this day, about your relations with
Mr. Irving. I am very glad to hear that the money is paid
and the business part of it settled. Perhaps you and he will,
one day, understand each other. I hope so. I never heard
him say an ill word of you. I wish that the papers had not
represented you as saying hard words of him. It is a great
pity that two men, whom God has blessed with such genius,
and such power for the good of the stage and society, should
not agree, and get on in kindness. But, in Heaven's name,
never open your lips about him again, for any paper to hear!

W. W.

It was, for a time, one of Mansfield's erroneous
impressions, of which he had many, that my views,
not only of his acting but of the acting of other mem-
bers of the stage, were fashioned and guided by
friendship. A word on that subject, personal to
myself, will not, perhaps, be considered inappropri-
ate. I have been a writer about the sta^e for more
than half-a-century. In the course of that time I
have discussed the performances of hundreds of
actors and have written many columns of recognition
and of praise; but I have never written a line of
praise that I did not believe to be deserved, and I
have never written a word of commendation of any
person because I was fond of that person or because
that person was fond of me. I have never sought
the friendship of any person, nor have I ever been
influenced by it. I have had friends: most of them
are dead: but their affection has been mine, — for

202 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

which I am profoundly grateful, — not because it
was solicited, and not because they thought they
had anything to gain by it, but because, out of
their goodness and gentleness, they were pleased to
bestow that blessing upon me, and thus to brighten
my life. Some observers maintain that the profes-
sional critic of acting cannot write impartially about
actors if he is personally acquainted with them. To
me it has always seemed that accurate personal
knowledge of the actor is distinctly propitious to
an ample and minute appreciation of the acting.
Each observer must judge for himself. It is the
chief privilege of the critic to recognize, to foster,
and to encourage. The necessity may, and sometimes
does, arise for explicit censure, but the most salutary
province of criticism is commendation, — that thought-
ful, rational, kindly treatment of artistic endeavor
which tends to help. During a lifetime of literary
service to the Dramatic Art I have labored in
accordance with that conviction, — knowing many
actors, — and I am wishful to believe that I have
not labored in vain. A man who occupies a posi-
tion of critical responsibility to the public must,
it seems to me, be signally deficient of individual
character if he supposes that he cannot write the
truth about acting when the actor happens to be a
personal friend. I was fond of Mansfield, and

CRITICAL ATTITUDE 203

frequently I commended his acting; not because of
friendship for the man, but for the simple, suffi-
cient, imperative reason that frequently his acting
was good, and sometimes it was magnificent. On
the other hand I never hesitated to condemn his
faults; and, although he was resentful, angry, and
acrimonious, in response to censure, I retained his
friendship till his death. In writing this biography,
which, necessarily, involves many intimate personal
recollections and impartments, I have found it
impossible to avoid reference to myself, and for that
I would ask the reader's indulgence. The famihar
quotation from Virgil is not irrelevant: "Quceque
ipse misserrima vidi, et quorum pars magna fid."
Whenever Mansfield merited praise, — and that was
often, — he always received it, from at least one pen.
When he made himself amenable to censure he did
not escape from it. By some writers he was slan-
dered and traduced. By some he was misunderstood
and was treated without appreciation if not with
willful injustice. His habit of indiscreet speech was
known, so that sometimes even his nearest friends
were constrained to trust the authenticity of splenetic
remarks purporting to have been made by him.
Thus, when a regular dispatch from a Western
city had reported him as having indulged in con-
temptuous abuse and condemnation of a contem-

204 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

porary actor, with whom he was known to be at
variance, the following article, written by me, was
pubhshed on the editorial page of "The New York
Tribune":

MR. Mansfield's wrath.

Mr. Richard Mansfield's recent colloquy with himself, at
Cincinnati, was conceited, rude, ill-bred, and foolish, but there
is a comic side to it. "What is Irving.?" asked Mr. Mansfield;
and, himself responding to his inquiry, he replied "He is no
better actor than I am." This recalls one of the Ellenborough
anecdotes. "Now, my lords," said Lord Westmoreland, "I asked
myself a question." "Yes," said Ellenborough, unconsciously
murmuring his thought, "and a damned stupid answer you'd be
sure to get to it." Mr. Mansfield's answer, however, is doubt-
less satisfactory to himself.

Persons who have observed and studied the stage for a
longer period than Mr. Mansfield has lived would answer his
question in a very different manner. They would tell him that
Henry Irving is a great actor — one of the greatest actors that
have ever appeared, and the best stage manager of whom there
is any record in the history of the English Drama. They would
say, furthermore, that Mr. Irving is not only a better actor than
Mr. Mansfield, but so much a better actor that no comparison
between them is for a moment possible, and that nobody but
Mr. Mansfield himself would think of making it. They would
add that Mr. Irving, since he leased the London Lyceum
Theatre, has, perhaps, done more than any man of our time
to maintain a high standard in dramatic matters and to educate
and advance the public taste — his sole rival in that good work
being, not Richard Mansfield, but Augustin Daly. And they
would take the liberty to mention that when Mr. Mansfield
stigmatizes Mr. Irving as "a stage mountebank," and as "a
theatrical diplomat," whose professional conduct "savors of the

SILLY WRATH 205

actress who 'loses' her diamonds once a year," he insults the
intelligence of the community and stultifies his own.

Explosions of petty spite and silly wrath on the part of
Mr. Mansfield have become too frequent. He should be told,
and he ought to remember, that it is equally unmanly and sense-
less for anybody to growl and grumble because other persons
do not accept him at his own valuation of himself. The way
to win admiration is to deserve it, and to go on deserving it,
whether it is accorded or not. Abler men than Mr. Mansfield
have gone through the world, doing their best, and deserving
fortune and homage, — and have died unrecognized and unre-
warded. Mr. Mansfield's rare abilities, on the contrary, have
been acknowledged and applauded everywhere, and the only
thing that has ever stood in his way is his inveterate propensity
to carp and snarl at other persons. He cannot injure Mr.
Irving. His hysterical ebullitions only injure himself. When
"the boys" in a Western settlement were riding a sap-headed
young clergyman out of the place on a rail, the ringleader
summarized the situation with one brief but expressive remark:
"We ain't agin' religion here," he said, "but we do hate to see
a cuss spilin' it!"

Indignant denial, by Mansfield, that he had ever
spoken the words attributed to liim, promptly fol-
lowed the publication of that article. The spirit of
those words, as well as the words themselves, was
exactly accordant with the spirit of words that I
heard him speak, in general company, and had
earnestly asked liim never to utter, because alike
unwarranted, undignified, and wrong. Then, as
always, though, it was my earnest desire that he
should be justly and kindly treated, and there-

206 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

fore, upon receipt of his denial, I wrote and pub-
lished an article, of wliich this is the essential part:

It is an old established principle that nothing is ever settled
luitil it is settled aright. Mr. Mansfield repudiates, in explicit
terms, the language ascribed to him in the press dispatch from
Cincinnati that was published in this journal, and later was
made the subject of editorial comment. Mr. Mansfield declares
that the interview designated in that dispatch never occurred,
and that the words attributed to him were never spoken. Under
those circumstances the strictures on Mr. Mansfield were not
warranted.

It is just, however, to say that the Cincinnati dispatch
appeared, on the face of it, to be authentic, and that belief in it
was natural. Publications, signed with Mr. Mansfield's name,
are in existence, expressing his disfavor toward foreign actors,
and, during several years, the newspapers, in different parts
of the country have, from time to time, contained accounts
of speeches and conversations, wherein Mr. Mansfield has
appeared as a person with a grievance. . . . Reputation
affects belief. If, for example, the language ascribed to Mr.
Mansfield had been imputed to Mr. Jefferson it would have
been discredited at once, as preposterous and absurd. Alleged
as the utterance of Mr. Mansfield it seemed credible, because
it was harmonious with antecedent publications. . . .

Duquesne Theatre, Pittsburg, Pa.
My Dear Winter: —

I thank you, with all my heart, for the more than "amende
honorable." . . .

You are perfectly right — that I have felt sore and that
to you, as an old friend, I have often unburdened myself.
That is no reason why I should do so in Public. Moreover,
I have grown wise in my generation.

Do you fancy I really had no cause for anger? I suffered

MISREPRESENTED 207

a loss of $167,000 — actual figures. I was not fairly treated,
and Mr. Irving's last action was to buy "Dr. Jekyll and Mr.
Hyde," to prevent me from playing it in London. He also
caused me to be attached, in a small New England town, late
on a Saturday night. I have paid him every cent I owe him.
I forgive him any intentional or unintentional harm he may
have done me.

I have been — I was, his most devoted friend, his ardent
admirer. I believed in him implicitly. I have bestowed upon
him many gifts and tokens of friendship. He accepted every-
thing coldly, and never made any return. I am hasty and
quick-tempered — but I harm only myself. I would rather be
so, than cold, calculating, and insincere.

Even the St. Louis speech, so much referred to recently,
was an outrageous fake. I made but one speech, which was
forced upon me — the audience would not have it otherwise.
There was not one serious word in that speech; it was entirely
comic, and accepted as such by the audience. Some cad,
three days afterward, published, to our utter amazement and
consternation, a series of remarks, purporting to have been
uttered by me, which were a string of ridiculous lies. Upon
these the New York papers commented seriously.

I have written to Irving — I ought to write to Tree. I have
abused neither of these men. They are welcome to all the
honor and glory and money they can acquire. . i^^-""

Always

Richard Mansfield.

Pittsburgh, Penna.
My Dear Winter: —

I can only at this moment thank you for your generous let-
ter. I read for the first time the press dispatch from Cincin-
nati. The scoundrels must have simply manufactured it, for it
has not even the basis of truth which some equally dangerous
but garbled reported interviews and speeches possess, and I

208 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

can't imagine how anybody could really believe that I talked
like a fish-wife.

Certainly I have spoken and written to you in a mood of
bitterness. You, who are a poet and must have a poet's moods,
best know how the arrows of outrageous fortune torture a
man's mind, and how an enfeebled constitution and a nerve-
racked frame will make a fellow shriek, as hope after hope
and ambition after ambition is thwarted, and fades, and dies.
But I do not talk cheap trash like a common scold.

You are quite right about Jefferson — nobody would believe
that he had said anything of the kind. But there is this dif-
ference— that / produce four or five plays a year, and have
spent thousands on new and old plays, such as "Richard" and
"Nero" — and that I am striving, striving, studying, and have
been starving. Mr. Jefferson is a dear, lovely fellow, who likes
a small company and a jog trot. Every man to his taste,

Irving is twenty years my senior. I admire him very much;
I am, personally, his friend, and if he needed my friendship he
could have it, and every copper I am likely to make, to back
it up. Politically I am his opponent. He does not believe in
Reciprocity. I do. I think it's an infernal shame that a man
who has won his spurs in this country should not be esteemed a
Knight in England — that it should be a practical impossibility
to make a dollar over there, . . .

I like all these fellows — I am still fond of Irving: but I do
think there should be a fair, square chance all roiuid. Basta —
that's all. Let the dead bury the dead. . . . Talking of the
dead, Sol Smith Russell is here and has got "The Heir at
Law" by the ears and is galvanizing the old fellow "with songs
contributed by Mr. Joseph Jefferson!" Has Jefferson been
warbling, too ?

We nearly died over your review of "Mr. John A. Dreams,"
and "Mr, Titus A. Peep." I marked it as coming from your
pen, and dispatched it at once to Bernard Shaw. . . .

Beatrice has gone to New York. You'll find her at 104 West
80th Street. I shall be there Sunday evening. At the house

THE FOREIGN ACTOR 209

there is a high-backed chair, in which Cardinal Borgia was wont
to disport himself, which now belongs to you, and in tire theatre
there will also be a chair which will have "W. W." beautifully
embroidered upon its back.

When you write scathing editorials about me, please recol-
lect that it is simple madness to nourish and cherish a plant,
and watch it, and water it, and whiskey it, and so forth and
so forth and so forth — and, just as it shows promise of blos-
soming, to j ump upon it with both heels ! Why, more than
half such success as I enjoy is born of you, and doesn't
everybody know it? Wretched man! you have brought forth
a Frankenstein ! !

Ever yours,

Richard Mansfield.

It is not unreasonable, certainly it is not unnatural,
that the American actor following his vocation on the
American stage, should be discontented, when he
finds himself neglected and, at the same time, per-
ceives that the foreign actor is extravagantly admired
and la\ishly rewarded. The provincialism or the
snobbery which, for many years, in America, has
accepted and acclaimed the acting of foreign per-
formers,— especially those speaking French or Ital-
ian,— often for no better reason than because it is
foreign, may well have been a cause of disgust and
resentment to American actors of proved ability and
worth. It would, however, be unjust and deplorably
illiberal to oppose the advent, upon our stage, of
foreign actors of authentic talent and renown, only

210 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

because they are foreign. Mansfield was inclined,
in this matter, to apply the doctrine of Protection.
On December 31, 1900, he said, in "The New York
Herald";

"... We have no stage in America. The American stage
is the stage for all stages. Everybody comes here, and every-
body is welcome. Herein lies the difference between New York
and Paris and London and other foreign capitals. Foreign
actors make a great deal of money in America. It would be
difficult for an American actor to make any money in London,
or Berlin, or Vienna, or St. Petersburgh. American stage
craft is not honored abroad. It should be. Concerning art,
the American is neither patriotic nor exclusive. The foreigner
is. . . ."

That is hardly a just or an accurate view of the
subject. Old civilizations, indeed, are, naturally,
conservative: they know, and they instinctively
remember, that certain great things in art have been
thoroughly and perfectly done, and they are not
readily moved to enthusiasm about newcomers: but
American actors have been received with acclama-
tion in European cities, and have been practically
rewarded as well as honored there; and therefore
the statement that no reciprocity of art exists
between Europe and America is incorrect. Edwin
Forrest prospered in Great Britain. So did James
H. Hackett. Charlotte Cushman, who went to
London in 1844 (with a capital of less than $500),

RECIPROCITY 211

was successful there. Success attended Mr. and Mrs.
Harry Watkins, Mr. and JNIrs. Barney Williams,
and Mr. and Mrs. W. J. Florence. Jefferson's
"stage craft" was not only admired but liberally
rewarded abroad. Indeed, his great personation of
Rip Van Winkle was recognized at its true value
in London before it was in New York. Jefferson
first acted Rip, in Boucicault's greatly improved
version of the earlier play, at the London Adelphi
Theatre, September 4, 1865, when the representation
was much commended; and he again acted the part
in London, at the Princess's Theatre, from Novem-
ber 1, 1875, to April 29, 1876. John McCullough
was heartily welcomed in England. ]Mary Ander-
son's career on the British stage was, in every
way, one continuous triumph: "The Winter's Tale,"
for example (first produced by her at Nottingham,
April 23, 1887), occupied the stage of the Lon-
don Lyceum, without interruption, from September
10, 1887, to March 24, 1888. Lawrence Barrett,
who gained fame, would also have gained money,
in London, but for the death of a member of the
English royal family, which caused a mourning
court and deterred his peculiar audience from the
theatre. Edwin Booth, who made three ventures in
England, speaking about liis reception on the
British stage, said (June, 1881) : "I was never more

212 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

heartily received than by the audience drawn together
when I played in London. I have had a most
dehghtful experience, socially, professionally, and in
every respect, with the exception of the unfortunate
illness of my wife. . . . My engagement with Irving
was one of the most agreeable I ever played. He is
one of the most delightful men I ever met; always
obliging, and always kind in every possible
way. ..." Ada Rehan, who was introduced upon
the British stage by Augustin Daly (at Toole's
Theatre, London, July 19, 1884), became as great a
favorite there as even the admired Helen Faucit had
been, and, as long as she continued to act, main-
tained an equal position with that of Ellen Terry,
the leading English actress of her time. Miss Rehan
was also successful in Berhn, Hamburg, and Paris,
where she filled three engagements. Augustin Daly
built and managed Daly's Theatre (opened June
27, 1893) in London, and was decisively successful
there; for example, "Twelfth Night," with which he
opened that house, was acted one hundred and eleven
times, and in the same season "The School for Scan-
dal" was acted more than fifty times. On the Con-
tinental stage a large acceptance of acting in the
English language could hardly be expected; yet
Edwin Booth was received in the cities of Germany
with greater homage than had ever been shown

EDWIN BOOTH IX 1883

BOOTH IN GERMANY 213

toward him, even by the most friendly pubhc of
his native land! At Berlin he received a silver
wreath of laurel leaves inscribed:

"To Edwin Booth, the unrivalled Tragedian, in kind remem-
brance of his first engagement in Germany, January and
February, 1883. Presented by the Directors and the ladies
and gentlemen of the Residenz Theatre."

At Hamburg the actors gave him a branch of sil-
ver bay leaves, — the veteran Herr Formes making
the presentation speech. At Bremen the actors
expressed their admiration by giving him a silver
crown of laurel. Another silver wreath was given
to him at Leipsic. He was received with kindred
favor in Vienna. Wherever he acted his audi-
ences were large and were wildly enthusiastic in
their applause. The German press teemed with
tributes to his genius. "I have just accomplished"
(so he wrote to me, January 11, 1883) "the one
great object of my professional aspiration. 'Tis
after one o'clock in the morning and I am very
weary, but cannot go to bed ^vithout a line to you.
When I am cooler I will try to give you a full
account of the night's work. The actors as well
as the audience were very enthusiastic, many of the
former kissing my hands, and thanking me over and
over again, — for what I know not, unless it was

214. LIFE OF MANSFIELD

because they recognized in me a sincere disciple of
their idol, Shakespeare. ..."

It is not because "American stage-craft is not
honored abroad" that American actors find it diffi-
cult to earn much money there. All actors find it
difficult. The same custom of lavish pubhc expendi-
ture on theatres that prevails in America does not
prevail in Europe. Irving, the most greatly
esteemed and widely followed actor of his time, on
the British stage, was obliged to earn in America
the money needful to maintain his vast enterprises
at the Lyceum, London, and, speaking before the
curtain in New York, he testified that without the
generous support of the American public he could
not have carried on his work. Herbert Beerbohm-
Tree, a representative London actor and manager
of the present day, has found it very difficult to
support the great burden of his theatre. America
is the best market-place in the world for the actor,
— yielding far larger profits than can be obtained
in Europe, — but it does not follow from this fact
that "the foreigner is exclusive" as to American
actors and acting. There are other forces beside
churlishness and insular prejudice that affect the
interchange of art between America and Europe.

Several months passed before my "Franken-
stein" presented himself to my view, and when at

STORMING THE FORT 215

last he did appear his advent was accomplished in
a manner not inharmonious with the character that
he had playfully assumed. It was on a peaceful
Sunday morning, in April. I was, by chance,
alone in my somewhat sequestered abode, in Staten
Island, — as solitary as Manfred in his tower, and
bent on being quite as unsocial; for an exacting
literary task engrossed my thoughts and made me
impatient of interruption. There are strange beings
who, — wishful to go upon the stage, or to publish
verses, or to present plays, or to reform man-
kind,— feel that nothing can be done without a
preliminary conference with some person associated
with the press, and from those importunate enthu-
siasts rigid seclusion provides the only means of
escape. It was, accordingly, my custom to keep
the doors locked and to make no response to the
knocking or ringing of callers. "Fast bind" is a
good proverb, for others beside old Shyloch. On
that particular day I had determined not to admit
anybody; whereupon, by perversity of fortune, the
applicants for admission became more than usually
numerous, — all, however, unheeded, passing away.
At length, after a considerable period of silence,
I became aware of a peremptory ringing of the
bell, succeeded by emphatic blows upon the front
door. Here, evidently, was a besieger acquainted

216 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

with my custom of fortification. The ringing was
resumed, and it became a continuous peal, for several
minutes. The thumps were renewed. Then still-
ness. Then more blows, this time upon a door in
the western side of the building. Then, finally, a
thunderous "knocking at the south entry," the
sound of which reverberated through the empty
house. About ten minutes later, the clamor having
ceased, and the visitant, as I supposed, departed,
I descended to my library, on the lower floor, in
quest of a book. My arrival proved timely. As
I entered the room, at one end of it, I saw that
a window at the other end had been raised, and
that Mansfield, blooming in fine, fashionable rai-
ment, as was his custom, was projecting himself
through the aperture, at the same time, at sight
of me, exclaiming, in stentorian tones, — rich, hearty,
jovial, exultant, — "So you are at home! I thought
so! My dear Winter, how are you?" I beheld him
with amazement. "Come in, Mansfield," I said, or
rather whispered — for I was almost speechless, with
cold. "Come in," he shouted: "Do I look as if
I were not coming in? Here he is," he continued,
"this wicked old man; this old gray fox that must
be dug out; who never minds his door-bell: he
thought he could elude me: he cannot: he must
listen to me, for hours and hours, and he cannot

PLEASANT HOURS 217

even reply. He whispers: he cannot be heard.
JNIiserable man! you have brought forth a Franken-
stein!" He was like a happy boy, abounding in
joyous mischief, and dehghted with it. We sat
together for the rest of the day, and all the while
he discoursed to me, of his plans, his dreams, his
prospects, his recent experiences, his friends and
foes and fancied foes, and the vicissitudes of his
fortunes. His smile was winsome, his voice cheery,
his mirth exhilarant. He seemed the personification
of happiness. He sang for me. He mimicked the
faddists of the hour. He read aloud from the
manuscript of his book of nonsense, — afterward
published under the name of "Blown Away." He
told anecdotes. He was at his best of geniality
and droll humor. No man could be more engaging
than Mansfield was, as an entertainer, and that day,
as I remember it, he excelled himself. It was a
rare occasion, and it marked the complete dis-
appearance of whatever shadow of resentment
might have lingered between us.

The financial adversity which attended liis pro-
duction of "The IMerchant of Venice" disappointed
and depressed him so much that he abandoned his
design of producing "Twelfth Night," and he never
recurred to it. A long time passed, indeed, before
he could bring himself even to think of a new

218 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

venture in Shakespeare. His production of "Rich-
ard III.," which had been for four years included
in his repertory, though not frequently employed,
was again used in 1898, but it was not until 1901
that he once more raised the standard of the great-
est of dramatists, — this time winning a brilliant
victory, — with his magnificent revival of "Henry V."
The gloomy engagement at Herrmann's Theatre
lasted only four weeks (October 9 to November 4,
1893), and Mansfield then made another tour,
extending far and wide through the West and South.
The part of Shyloch was retained in liis repertory,
and from time to time it was repeated. Good
fortune did not favor him, though, and his health,
which gradually had been impaired by excessive
exertion and incessant worry, presently failed; he
broke down, and for some time he was seriously ill.

VIII.

1894 TO 1899.

In the spring of 1894, writing to me from a city
in the West, Mansfield, now improved in health,
dwelt earnestly on his wish that his flurry of anger,
when suffering from grip, should be forgotten.
"I was never so ill in my hfe," he said, refer-
ring to that culmination of his troubles; "I did
not act for three weeks, and ought not to have
played for seven." He also expressed the pur-
pose of visiting London, in quest of new plays,
but that purpose was not accomplished, — possibly
because the English censor had, meanwhile, declined
to sanction the play of "Beau Brummell," so that
any design he might incidentally, have entertained
of acting again in the British capital was frus-
trated. It was not easy (at least, I have not found
it so) to cherish unkind feeling. No person who
knew Richard ^Mansfield well could long remain
seriously offended with him, for, in some ways, he
was like a tired child. "Don't be mad ^vith me,"
he wrote; "I only cried out to you, and against

219

220 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

you, as to a father or brother who wouldn't under-
stand."

104 West 80th Street, New York,

August 2, 1894.
My Dear Winter: —

... I am only in town for a couple of days, and I should
dearly like to shake you by the hand — will you come and dine
and spend the evening? I am all alone, and dine at seven. If
you feel like going away for a few days, — I shall start from
here, on my little boat, on Sunday, and I can make you com-
fortable and give you a week's cruise. I think you would
enjoy it: again I am entirely alone on the boat, barring the
crew, and I make a point of going to nobody and seeing
nobody. If you like sailing I am certain it would do you
good, and the sight of the New York Yacht Club fleet, — whose
cruise I intend to follow, from Glen Cove to New Haven —
from New Haven to New London — from New London to New-
port— will be delightful. You can sprawl on your back and
gaze at the sky. What do you say.'*

I left Beatrice at New London, for a few days, with friends.
Yours always, with kindest regards,

Richard Mansfield.

That kind invitation was necessarily declined, and,
on August 29, requiring rest, I sailed for Scotland.

104 West 80th Street,

New York, September 1, 1894.
My Dear Winter: —

Your kind letter, written on board the Britannic, was a
sorry surprise to us, for we had hoped to have seen much of
you here, in our home, before we started on our annual jaunt.
But if you are ill it is well indeed that you should be able
to get away — above all to Bonnie Scotland. How, how I

BLUNTSCHLI 221

wish we were with you! May it be for next summer! I
have promised Beatrice a trip thro' all the lovely spots of
England and Scotland, and perhaps some parts of Germany
and Switzerland or the Tyrol. Perhaps you may be persuaded
to join us? . . .

I am as far off from the goal of my ambitions as ever — and
I see no improvement. I open the new Herald Square Theatre
on September 17, with a satirical comedy, of no particular
weight — clever enough ; containing no part for me. In fact,
in the second act (there are three) until the end of it, I do not
appear. My one hope is that somebody may write something.

If you see Irving, greet him from me, and tell him I have
forsaken the errors of my youth and heartily sympathize, and
am in sympathy, with him,

I am here until the 29th of October. Give my love to your
wife and children, and believe me

As ever very devotedly yours,

Richard Mansfield.

In the autumn of 1894 he appeared, September 17,
at the Herald Square Theatre, New York, and, for
the first time, acted Captain Bluntsclili, in Mr.
George Bernard Shaw's satirical play "Arms and
the Man." No play by that author had previously
been presented in America, and, although that
novelty did not attract much attention, the success
obtained by Mansfield, as Bluntsclili, eventually
launched Mr. Shaw upon a tide of publicity which
has not yet ceased to flow. A more notable event
was the representation, October 27, of a series of
pictorial scenes, — a sort of theatrical panorama, —

222 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

illustrative of the life of Napoleon Bonaparte, —
Mansfield personating the meteoric emperor.

Napoleon has figured in the English drama for
nearly, if not quite, a century. A spectacle play,
called "The Fall of Moscow," was long popular in
London, at Astley's Amphitheatre and elsewhere,
and Edward A. Gomersal (1788-1862) was admired
for his presentation of the famous Corsican. Readers
of Bon Gaultier will remember the ballad of "The
Midnight Visit," descriptive of Lord Castlereagh's
consternation on beholding Bonaparte, — supposed to
have escaped from St. Helena, — and of the relief of
that statesman, when the phantom vanished, and he
read, in the "mystic scroll" which had been left upon
his table, "Napoleon, for the Thousandth time, by
Mister Gomersal." In recent years the conqueror
has largely figured on our stage as the domestic
despot in the ingenious drama of "Mme. Sans Gene."
Mansfield was always especially sympathetic with
the character of Napoleon, and indeed, — however
extravagant the statement may seem, at first glance,
— liis personality comprised some of the attributes of
that character, — stalwart courage, vaulting ambi-
tion, inflexible will, resolute self-confidence, great
capacity for labor, iron endurance, promptitude
of decision, propensity for large schemes, and pas-
sionate taste for profusion of opulent surround-

Courtcfi!/ of liohcr Art Gallery, Cohimbiid, Ohio

MANSFIELD AS ^'APOLKOS BONAPARTE

NAPOLEON 223

ings. Like Napoleon, also, he was sensitive to
weird imagery and to far-off musical, melancholy-
sounds, and especially fond of children. The wish
to act Napoleon had long been cherished by him.
He often mentioned it to me. In 1893 he wrote
that he had planned certain scenes wliich he thought
could be acted, but which, in representation, would
need to be conjoined by an interlude of prose nar-
rative, for recitation, — somewhat after the model of
the Greek Chorus; and he asked me to write that
interlude — a dubious expedient for modern theatri-
cal use, wliich I declined to furnish. He also, as
already mentioned, proposed the subject to Augustin
Daly, but without, at that time, practicallj" inter-
esting that manager. Daly produced a version of
"Mme. Sans Gene" January 3, 1899, at his theatre
in New York, Ada Rehan acting Catherine, after-
ward Duchess of Dantzig, and George Clarke
(1840?-1906) appearing as the Emperor. The piece
about Napoleon that Mansfield ultimately obtained
and presented was a cluster of episodes, representa-
tive more than dramatic, contributory to a pictorial
outline of the Emperor's life, and it enabled him, at
least, to gratify himself by assuming, — as he did,
with a keen perception of the man and with striking
effect, — several aspects of Napoleon, mental no less
than physical. The pubhc response to his exliibition

224 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

of that great historic person was not considerable.
His acting, indeed, was admired: his play, "a thing
of shreds and patches," was rightly considered
tedious. The first presentation of "Napoleon Bona-
parte" occurred on the last night of his New York
engagement. On October 29 he began another tour
of the country, and this, happily, was remunera-
tive,— although his gains were lessened by his ill-
judged persistence in presenting, from time to time,
both "Napoleon Bonaparte" and "Arms and the
Man."

He was now to undergo another painful experi-
ence of labor wasted, ambition thwarted and hope
bereaved. Early in 1895 a serious illness befell that
clever, genial, winning Irish comedian, Edward Har-
rigan, and he presently felt constrained to relin-
quish his theatre, which had been very prosperous,
but which had greatly declined in public favor.
Mansfield, who for several years had entertained the
project of managing a theatre in New York, heard
of the opportunity thus opened, and immediately
resolved to take advantage of it. On JNIarch 7, writ-
ing to his devoted friend and wise, conscientious,
faithful legal adviser, A. W. Gleason, Esq., he
said:

"It is imperative that I should become the lessee — if not
the proprietor — of that theatre. It is just the place for me.

GARRICK THEATRE 225

I can run it very inexpensively, and I can make it a simple
and dignified temple of art. . . . We rarely do less than
$5,000 per week. I will either buy or lease the theatre, at
a fair price; we always pay our rent — and if we don't they
can kick us out! I must have it, and it must be ready by
Easter Monday, April 15.

Mansfield finally obtained a lease of Harrigan's
Theatre (in West Thirty-fifth Street), refitted it, at
large expense, called it The Garrick Theatre, —
by wliich name it is still known (1910), — and
straightway beguiled himself with rosy dreams of
achievement and prosperity. "I shall work like a
beaver," he wrote to me, March 17, 1895; "I shall
endeavor to do my duty! I shall try to conciliate
all; I shall be truly glad of your advice." His
spirit was intrepid, and no friend could fail to
sympathize with him and encourage liim, — especially
since he had already irrevocably committed himself
to the undertaking; but the conditions under wliich
he embarked in that new enterprise were, to the last
degree, unpropitious. Nothing, indeed, was favor-
able to it, aside from his genius, indomitable cour-
age, and high reputation. The season of 1894-'95
had been very laborious for him, following his loss
and disappointment in the production of "The ]Mer-
chant of Venice." He was not in robust health.
His company was not very strong. The theatre that

226 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

he had chosen was situated aside from the main
theatrical thoroughfare of the city, and it was asso-
ciated in the pubhc mind with Harrigan's Irish-
German-Negro farces, — good entertainments of their
kind, but not such as had invested the house with a
high character, commending it to the favor of the
educated community. He had determined to begin,
not at the opening, but at the close, of the regular
dramatic season, and to begin with a play which did
not possess either intrinsic importance or the allure-
ment of novelty. That play was "Arms and the
Man," at its best a dilution of "Used Up," garnished
with satirical additions, and Mansfield had already
acted the chief part in it. Captain Bluntschli, at the
Herald Square Theatre, where although his acting
had been much admired, as it richly deserved to
be, the play had proved practically a failure. It
chanced, also, that summer resorts, called "roof-
gardens," had grown in number and likewise in
favor, establishing a formidable competition, at that
season of the year. Mansfield's active repertory,
indeed, was a good one, — comprising "A Parisian
Romance," "Prince Karl," "Beau Brummell," "Dr.
Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," "The Scarlet Letter," "The
Merchant of Venice," and "Napoleon," — and it
provided him with some parts in which he could put
forth his powers with splendid effect: but for a

A GLITTERING HOST 227

summer season in New York it lacked novelty
where it did not lack lightness and mirth.

In the general state of dramatic affairs, further-
more, there was much to obstruct any effort which,
under existing local conditions, he might be able
to make. During the period extending from the
autumn of 1893 to the spring of 1896 Mansfield
was, from season to season, under the necessity of
contending with a professional opposition and rivalry
of extraordinary force, — a host, indeed, scarcely
less potent than that marshalled against him at
the time of his production of "Richard III."
Augustin Daly was managing a superb company,
with Ada Rehan at the head of it, and, with a
repertory containing "Twelfth Night," "The Taming
of the Shrew," "The Two Gentlemen of Verona,"
"The School for Scandal," "The Critic," "Heart of
Ruby," and various rollicking farces. Edward S.
Willard, associated with specially able auxiliar play-
ers, was acting in "The Middleman" and "Judah,"
two of the best plays of that accomplished dramatist,
Henry Arthur Jones. Henry Irving and Ellen
Terry, with the formidable Lyceum corps, were
pervading the country, in a marvellous repertory,
which included "Becket," "Charles L," "Ohvia,"
"Much Ado About Nothing," "King Arthur," "The
Merchant of Venice," "Macbeth," "The BeUs,"

228 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

"Nance Oldfield," "Louis XL," "The Lyons Mail,"
"Waterloo," and "Don Quixote." Helen Modjeska
was the cynosure of many eyes, in her noble and
touching embodiment of "Mary Stuart." The
eminent French actor, Jean Mounet-Sully, was
conspicuous in "Hernani," "Edipus Rex," "Ruy
Bias," "Hamlet," and "The Cid." Mme. Rejane
was delighting all beholders by her sparkling per-
formance of Mme. Sans Gene and by her piquant
coquetry in "Divor9ons" and "Ma Cousine." Joseph
Jefferson was visible, in the affluence of his perennial
popularity, acting Rip Van Winkle, Acres j and Caleb
Plummer, and diffusing the charm of his exquisite
art, of which the public never grew weary. Mr. and
Mrs. Kendal could be seen in "The Ironmaster," "A
White Lie," "A Scrap of Paper," and other plays,
and to see them was a perfect pleasure. Rose
Coghlan, in her prime, was acting brilliantly, in
"Diplomacy" and "Forget Me Not." Wilson Bar-
rett had gained an American no less than an Eng-
lish following, in "The Manxman," "Virginius,"
"Othello," and "The Silver King." Herbert Beer-
bohm-Tree was performing, in "The Red Lamp,"
"Gringoire," "The Merry Wives of Windsor,"
"Hamlet," and "Captain Swift"; and that superb
artist, John Hare, as Goldfinch, in "A Pair of Spec-
tacles," was adorning the stage and brightening life

GREAT EXPECTATIONS 229

for all who saw him. Those citations only barely
indicate the strength and variety of theatrical attrac-
tion, on the American stage, by which that period
was marked, — an embattled array which JMansfield
was obHged to meet, and which, with supreme self-
confidence and undaunted spirit, he bravely set
himself to encounter.

The plans that he had formed and the hopes by
which he was buoyed, in entering upon the manage-
ment of his theatre, are denoted in letters that fol-
low,— sad and forlorn in effect now, remembering
that nothing came of all his dreams and earnest
labors but disappointment and sorrow:

Pittsburgh, Pa., Private Car 3977.

March 22, 1895.
My Dear Winter: —

Your letter, your Memoranda received. How can I thank
you? I will bear it all well in mind, and it will be invalu-
able to me — if, — if — I can only manage to be so good and
wise!?

I cannot call the theatre "Mansfield's." My instincts are all
against it. Maybe the shade of Garrick has something to do
with it. You see, there is Abbey's, and Miner's, and Hoyt's,
and there was Harrigan's, and there is Palmer's. Garrick
did just the sort of thing I should like to be able to do;
Tragedy and Comedy, and even a song or so.

... I want to call it "The Garrick" because it's as good
a name as any other: "Mansfield's" would be beastly, and
when I went out they'd change it, of course, and call it Jones's
or Sniggins's. Moreover, if it turns out a failure — which may

230 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

God prevent! — I don't want Mansfield to suffer any more than
I can help. Garrick is still a name to conjure by — and if he
was English, what's the odds? A great actor is for all the
world — not for one little spot — eh?

As soon as the place is fumigated, cleaned (a theatre by any
other name would smell as sweet!) painted, recarpeted, and
seated (by which I mean new chairs) you and I will sit down
in it and talk it all over.

The company shall be the finest in the world: it will take a
little time to accomplish that. I have engaged a woman, by
name Janet Achurch — she is now on her way here. My brother
Felix, who comes over to assist me, is bringing her with him.
Felix is my elder brother — a highly educated man of good
manners, accomplished and tactful. I am sorry to say he is
not very strong physically, and he wears a glass in one eye —
but this latter may prove an attraction !

I have seen Janet act, and I fancy that, after Ellen Terry —
perhaps a long way after — she is, by far, the cleverest actress
in London. Any leaning she may have toward Ibsen and
cult I will straighten swiftly.

I am in grave doubt as to whether I had best open the theatre
with a week or so of repertory, and gather in thus all classes of
people (for, with certain plays, such as "Brummell," "Jekyll
and Hyde," etc., we are sure of full houses) or whether it
would be best to commence with a new play, and a possible —
nay, likely, failure? I could commence with "Brummell," "A
Parisian Romance," "Prince Karl," "The Scarlet Letter,"
"Arms and the Man," "Napoleon," and "Dr. Jekyll and Mr.
Hyde," which is my repertory in Harlem this coming week,
March 23.

If I open with a new play it would, probably, be "Candida,"
by Bernard Shaw, if the play, on arrival here (I shall see it
on Monday), proves to be clean — if not, with "The Errant
King," by Charles Leonard Moore, a Philadelphian. The
story is clean and pretty — a romantic King (modern) who wan-
ders away — turns actor — falls in love with a beautiful girl,

SUGGESTIONS 231

an actress; the language is good^ and all is sweet and clean
and pretty, and not lacking in humor.

I also have "Galeotto/' much spoken of in Europe, where
its success is very great. I should call it "Public Opinion."
The story is also clean. Here, you see, we have three new
plays. I have also "The Philanderer," by Bernard Shaw. It
is an extraordinary thing. It turns Ibsen inside out, and the
spectacle, as a result, is not a pleasant or agreeable one.

All your wise counsels I will endeavor to follow and to
impress upon my people.

I fear ISIrs. John Wood could not be engaged, under an
enormous salary, — probably $400 or $500 a week. Would
she be worth that? And could we find parts for her?

Most of the other people you name would be gravely insulted
if I ojBfered them engagements in my company — not one of them
that does not think himself or herself a star of the first magni-
tude, and certainly much greater than your poor R. M.

You are not going to retire to private life for the next
hundred years, and it is no use your talking about it.

When, when, when, shall I see you? I cannot tell you
how greatly I feel your goodness in sending me all these golden
words. As ever your

Richard.

It had been a pleasure to propose for liis considera-
tion various measures that seemed propitious to his
success, and in proposing them I said:

... I have set down, as well as an aching head will let
me, a few impressions as to your conduct of your new theatre.
They are offered in response to your request, and merely as
suggestive, and in no way presuming to intrude or advise. If
I am here, I shall do whatever I can to help you. Everything

232 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

will be done for you that intellectual sympathy can dictate, in
any case, for every intellectual man in this community wishes
you to succeed. W. W.

Normandie Hotel, Washington, D. C,

April 10, 1895.
My Dear Winter: —

Your good letter received. Your suggestion with regard to
Shakespeare's birthday is a capital one — the idea had not
occurred to me and I should like to realize it; but all our
costumes and scenery for "The Merchant" were burnt, in the
store-house fire. I shall, however, set about it at once, and see
what may be accomplished.

I have discarded play after play, and I am in despair. I
cannot present — I cannot act, the sickening rot the play-
wright of to-day turns out. Shaw's "Candida" was sweet
and clean — but he's evidently got a religious turn — an awaken-
ing to Christianity; and it's just two and one-half hours of
preaching, and I fear the people don't want that. Also, there is
no part for me but a sickly youth, a poet, who falls in love
with Candida — who is a young lady of thirty-five and the wife
of an honest clergyman, who is a socialist! There is no
change of scene in three acts, and no action beyond moving
from a chair to a sofa and vice versa. O, ye Gods and little
fishes! I am now for "The Peruvians" ("The King of Peru"),
which I think will be the right thing. Light — bright — simple —
honest; a good bill for this time of the year.

I have arranged with Mr. Watt — who came over on purpose
— for the right to have dramatized and to use all Stanley
Weyman's works — "A Gentleman of France," "Under the Red
Robe," etc., and Mr. Watt is also arranging for me with all
the other important authors for whom he is agent. This
is strictly entre-nous — it would not be wise to put Frohman on
the scent. I simply want to let you know that I disregard none
of your advice.

AN IDEAL 233

The Garrick Theatre — as a theatre — will be absolutely
charming; I know of nothing prettier or more tasteful in New
York City. I would, however, rather keep it closed than open
badly, i.e., with the wrong sort of thing. In time I can train
a Company to something like artistic excellence; and in time I
can produce play after play; and I can, in time, find good
plays.

It is possible that I may prove — please God, I may — an
incentive to good men to write for the stage. One thing is cer-
tain— I will do absolutely nothing at the Garrick Theatre that
a young girl may not venture to see, and I shall try to cater to
YOUNG people principally. I shall try to avoid all morbid, etc.,
etc., etc., etc., subjects: you can fill in these words, for you
know just what I mean. I shall try to bring things back to
a healthy, virile tone — to make life brighter and better, and
give honor and courage a fresh start. I'm for a lance, with
a bow of my lady's ribbon!

I don't like to talk of all my plans and all my hopes — my
boat, with youth at the helm and hope in the bow, may come a
ship-wreck — still, I shan't be disgraced for trying. I shall
commence very quietly and modestly. I am in no hurry to
open — we've all the year before us; perhaps ten years. . . .

The whole scheme of decoration in the house is very simple.
The character is Italian Renaissance — the scheme of color is a
study in reds; everything is red, and the lights will cast a
pleasant, rosy sheen over everybody and everything. The wood
panelling is black oak. From the foyer a staircase leads below
to the Ladies' Dressing Room and a Pompeian room, which is
also devoted to them, and in which a fountain will make a
soothing plashing of water. Here M. Maillard, the celebrated
confectioner, will provide a cup of tea or coffee, or an ice.
Women who come to the theatre from a distance suffer often
from lack of refreshment, and as I have already said, this
theatre of mine is to be for youth and beauty and comfort and
courtesy. A lady may travel from Orange or Staten Island, and
spend a comfortable hour, before the play, in the theatre.

234 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

There will be no magnificent ushers — a dozen bright boys in
buttons will show you to your seat and obey your nod. If
they do not behave — they are paid to take a kick. The func-
tionary in the box-office will smile and say "If you please," like
Sir Joseph Porter.

There will be no brass in the orchestra — no drum. Occa-
sionally, Miss Marguerite Hall, or somebody else with a beauti-
ful voice and an admirable method, will sing for us between the
acts of the play, some old ballad that we all know and love to
hear.

The Theatre will not be a cold, musty, dusty, dismal place
that smells of gas and ill-conditioned drains, but a pleasant
place where men and women may turn in and rest, and go
away brightened, furbished, and refreshed.

Ever yours,

Richard Mansfield.

Mansfield's association with the Garrick Theatre
extended over a period of about eight months. He
opened that house on April 23, acting Captain
Bluntschli, and, personally, he was cordially wel-
comed. Quick changes of bill ensued. An insig-
nificant drama called "The King of Peru" was
produced on May 7 and withdrawn on May 12. A
revival of "Prince Karl" was made, and that was
supplemented with other selections from Mansfield's
old repertory. On June 1 he closed his first engage-
ment, and on June 3 he presented a burlesque,
entitled "Thrilby," — a verbal and musical skit at
Du Manner's fanciful story of "Trilby," at that
time a subject of considerable public interest, — in

I'liotoyruph h\j Pack Bros.

RICHARD MANSFIELD IX 1895

FANCIED FOES 235

the representation of which, of course, he did not
participate. The performance of that burlesque was,
in various ways, meritorious, but the community was
indifferent to it, and after a losing career of six weeks
it was laid aside, July 13, and the theatre was closed.
Mansfield's health had, all the wliile, been failing, and
he now completely broke down. He was attacked
by typhoid fever and for several weeks it seemed
Hkely that the attack would prove fatal. Once,
indeed, rumor signified that he was dying. He ral-
lied, however, to the great relief of his friends, and
in the autumn he went to Lakewood.

At the time of his opening of the Garrick Theatre
Mansfield had seriously entertained the singular,
inexplicable fancy that a social faction had arisen,
in New York, to oppose and injure him. He did
not name the members of it, nor did he specifically
designate its character or its method of proceeding.
That it was in existence and would be maliciously
operative he felt assured, and he resolved upon such
measures for its defeat as he beheved would be
decisive. Before presenting any play, in the course
of his business, he would give "three public Dress
Rehearsals" of it, to which admission could be
bought, and those representations, necessarily imper-
fect, should be followed by the first regular perform-
ance. By that means the faction was to be discom-

236 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

fited; and he seems also to have believed that the
newspaper press, — which has been known to fore-
cast and even to anticipate "news," rather than wait
a few hours for the fact, — would wait three or four
days before publishing any comment on his proceed-
ings. His plan, of which no friend could approve,
was set forth in these words:

104. West 80th Street, New York,

May, 1895.
My Dear Winter: —

I'm sorry you don't like the idea of the Public Dress
Rehearsals. It is, at least, nothing new, and I intend to make
this arrangement always. First nights are hideous — especially
in this town, where a certain class of persons have monopolized
the theatre upon these occasions, and not to the advantage of
Art.

These people are not friendly to me — it is a faction. This
move of mine, if it does not destroy the enemy, — at least cuts
their army into three parts, and leaves each part uncertain
where to meet me. But this is not so important as the fact
that these creatures have made a first night a terror to the actor:
it was always bad enough, but these ghouls have multiplied
its horrors.

Many managers have, recently, in part overcome the diffi-
culty by presenting the play out of town in the first instance.
This method is not expedient for me. My dress rehearsals, —
a plan which I shall, now, always follow — will take away a
great deal of our nervousness, and will make a first night
virtually the third performance of the play; and we shall have
discovered mistakes in author, in delivery of lines, in mise-en-
scene, etc., which can be corrected. It also affords the
reviewer an opportunity, if he wishes to become thoroughly

"DRESS REHEARSALS" 237

acquainted with the work. When applied to really important
productions it will be generally appreciated and largely
followed.

1 have to study next Sunday, and get a few words into my
head, otherwise I had intended coming over. I called on
Jefferson, at the Fifth Avenue: he cannot play at our house.
He has a contract with Palmer, at the Garden Theatre. He is
coming to "Prince Karl" this evening.

Yours always,

Richard Mansfield.

The performances of "The King of Peru," given,
in pursuance of his futile plan, as "Dress Rehearsals,"
were not, in any essential particular, different from
customary performances, and he did not again resort
to that abortive expedient for attracting public atten-
tion. In calling on Jefferson he had followed a
suggestion which I had ventured to make, that it
would prove advantageous for him to persuade the
famous comedian to act at the Garrick, in the
autumn, presenting "The Rivals." The prodigious
popularity of Jefferson might have operated to
avert disaster, and so might have saved the for-
tunes of the house for the young manager to
whom the enterprise was so important and so dear.
The condition and feehng of the actor, under
the strain of misfortune and sickness, were indi-
cated in a letter that he wrote, after leaving
town :

238 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

Lakewood, New Jersey,

October 27, 1895.

... I am at present at Lakewood Asylum — where I
think William Winter should join me. I am dwelling in a
cottage, alone. William will only have to write one exhaust-
ive review this week, that of the new play "Macbeth,"
which is to be presented at Abbey's Theatre, and then, in
order to avoid all disagreeable comment, he can come down
here.

A slip from " " was sent me recently — cut out care-
fully and marked with a red and blue pencil, referring to
William's (not William Shakespeare's but W. W.'s) annual
pilgrimage to the tombstones and graveyards of merry old
England; but as there was an even more unpleasant reference
to me upon the same page, I failed to be amused: if there
had been nothing disagreeable said about me I should, no doubt,
have been hugely entertained.

Beyond these few brief facts I know nothing — which is the
plainest and truest statement I have ever made! I have been
in a bed-room so long that my ideas have narrowed down con-
siderably, and since then I have crawled about with a stick,
and an ardent desire to beat somebody, for something or other
that somebody must have done to bring about such a condition
of affairs. You don't suppose, do you, that a fellow, just as
he is baring his arms and straightening his legs for the fight,
can be knocked over, and stay knocked over for ten weeks,
unless somebody hit him — do you? Do you believe that evil
wishes hurt people?

If William will come here, and stay here awhile, in this
sacred spot, he will find an amiable and pacific idiot, brooding
over the Past — instead of a rampageous and belligerent ass,
braying defiance at the world. Let him come, and let him see!
The little cottage is delightful; the walks through the oaks and
pine refreshing. I have not been recognized here by a mortal
being — neither will he! Let him come? I retire at nine. I

RODION 239

rise at seven. If you take the 1.40 train, you arrive here
about 4.30.

Yours always truly,

Richard Mansfield.
By the way, W. W. might bring Henry Irving down here
with him, to spend Sunday. I promise to be very agreeable; —
also Miss Terry and Mr. B. Stoker.

As soon as he had measurably recovered from dis-
tressing and dangerous illness he resumed his pro-
fessional labor, appearing, November 25, 1895, at
the Chestnut Street Opera House, Philadelphia, as
Brummellj, and giving, in the course of one week,
several selections from his repertory. Meanwhile he
had arranged for the re-opening of the Garrick
Theatre, and that house was occupied from Sep-
tember 2 till October 28 by Edmund Milton Hol-
land, Joseph Holland, and a company, under
Mansfield's management, performing in "The Man
with a Past" and "A Social Highwayman." On
December 3 Mansfield reappeared at the Garrick,
acting, for the first time, the part of Bodion, in a
drama derived, indirectly, from a Russian novel
called "Crime and Punishment." His acting, in
one scene of that play, was remarkable for its afflic-
tive exhibition of a state of mental torture, — Rodion,
who has committed a murder, being shown as repeat-
ing, in delirium, the commission of that crime, and
exhibiting the tremor and misery of his terror and

240 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

remorse. The scene of the enacted murder was
recognized as a rough variant of the Dream Scene
in the well-known play of "The Bells," and Mans-
field's acting in it did not suffice to mitigate the
repulsiveness of literal horror inherent in a shock-
ing story prosily told. The play was a failure, as
it desei'ved to be, and as such nightmares invariably
are. The adverse result was attributed by the actor,
not to its obvious cause, — the dreary, obnoxious,
repellent character of the subject and the drama, —
but to the hostihty of those inveterate sinners, "the
critics"; and, brooding upon that mistaken notion
of injustice, he became much embittered. In a
magazine article that he published, several years
afterward, his views and feelings relative to this
melancholy subject were thus made known:

"... The saddest spot in the sad life of the actor is to be
forgotten. . . . Every character he creates is a child he bears.
There is labor and there is pain. He has bestowed upon it his
love and incessant thought, and, sleeping and waking, it is with
him as with a mother. When it is born it is born like the
children of the King, — in public. . . . Sometimes, when the
people have acclaimed it, those whose business it is to sit in
judgment on the child condemn it on first sight, and it is buried
in its little coffin, and only its mother weeps over it. . . .
Poor, wretched, fever-wrought Rodion stands before me. . . .
After the scene of delirium, in which Rodion kills his imagined
victim, I broke down. The curtain had fallen; the audience
sat perfectly still; there was not a breath of applause. I had

l'hijt()ijnti)h hij Hiilh \i'ic York

E. M. HOLLAND

SOTHERN AS RODION 241

failed. I was carried to my room. Then there came to me the
thunder of approval. It woke me — it revivified me. I went
before the curtain, again and again. My child had triumphed!
All my troubles, my sickness, my losses, were forgotten. But
there is no mercy in these matters. The next day my child was
killed. The next night he was dead of neglect, and there was
no one at his funeral. ..."

The pathos of that lament is somewhat vitiated
by remembrance of the fact that the newspaper
notices of Mansfield's performance of Rodion were,
in general, favorable. The "child" languished, and
ultimately expired, because the public was not inter-
ested by it, and the pubUc was not interested by it
because it was not interesting. It may not be
amiss to mention that twelve years later, in the sea-
son of 1907-'08, a drama on the same subject,
called "The Fool Hath Said— There Is No God,"
by Lawrence Irving, was presented by Edward
H. Sothern, who acted the same part — with the
same result, public avoidance and financial loss.
Yet Mr. Sothern's impersonation of Rodion, the
homicidal fanatic, — considered as to its technical
merit, — was an exceptionally fine piece of acting; a
minute study of morbid mentahty, clear, consistent,
and deftly finished. The character of Rodion is
an image of disease and the play is a horror.
Mansfield, in choosing to act that part, undoubt-

242 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

edly reasoned that since Matliias, in "The Bells,"
had been made effective, Rodion^ in "Crime and
Pmiishment," could likewise be made effective.
Both are murderers. Both suffer remorse. Both
rehearse the action of a murder. But there is a
radical difference in the story, in the investiture,
in the conduct of the plot, in the treatment
of the details, and, above all, in the quahty
and fibre of the character of the murderer; and
for that radical difference no allowance was
made.

Mansfield gave his last performance at the Gar-
rick Theatre on December 14, 1895, relinquishing the
lease of that house to Mr. Charles Frolmian, and
once more resorting to "the hard, hard road."
From that time, till the time of his peculiar good
fortune with Rostand's drama of "Cyrano de Ber-
gerac," — a welcome prosperity, which came to him
in October, 1898, — his professional experience was,
comparatively, uneventful, being only that of
monotonous and mostly thankless labor. His quest
of fresh subjects for stage treatment meanwhile
did not cease. He thought of acting Frederick the
Great and also, if he could obtain a novel drama
on the subject, Henry the Eighth. In the autumn
of 1896, he produced, in Chicago, a new play, called
"Castle Sombras," by Mr. Greenough Smith. In

NEW PLAYS 243

the autumn of 1897 he brought out, in Albany,
"The Devil's Disciple," by Mr. G. B. Shaw. In
the spring of 1898 he presented, in Boston, "The
First Violin." In "Castle Sombras" he personated
an austere nobleman, grim and gloomy, of the
stormy, picturesque period of Charles I., — by name
Sir John Somhras, and by nature misanthropical,
though philosopliic and magnanimous in mind.
That was a failure. Mr. Shaw's play afforded
to him the part of Dick Dudgeon, a humorous,
reckless youth, the terror of a sober New Eng-
land community. The play of "The First Viohn,"
based on the novel of that name by Jessie Fother-
gill, enabled him, as Eugene Courvoisier, to set
forth a romantic ideal of manhness, fortitude,
and noble self-sacrifice, in a winning image of
gentle personality. The most popular of those
three new plays was "The Devil's Disciple," wliich,
when introduced on the New York stage, in
October, 1897, at the Fifth Avenue Theatre, had
a run of sixty-four consecutive performances. He
again ventured, several times, with "Richard III."
in the course of this period, and his venture, —
undertaken with gloomy foreboding, — was, to his
surprise and delight, well rewarded. In November,
1896, while acting, at the Garden Theatre, as
Glo'ster, he wrote to a friend:

244 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

I am pleased and flattered that you should have liked
Richard — but it was far from my liking that evening. I do
not remember when I have felt more strange and out of place
on the stage. It was one of my wooden nights, when nothing
less than two cases of champagne would have roused me; as
they were not handy — I went to sleep !

What a hideous profession it is, that compels us to produce
ourselves, and create, when we are "not in the vein"! There
was, too, an imbecile brute in the orchestra who, with a strong
yellow light upon his countenance, was fatally determined upon
bobbing up and down and turning over sheets of music, and
he always did so just as I was going off into a trance. . . .

We have met, so far, with wonderful and imexpected suc-
cess. I had the gravest doubts concerning the result, when I
accepted the Garden Theatre arrangement. The house has
been full, every night. I am glad to be able to say that /
have not! . . .

In the season of 1897-'98 he employed, as "man-
ager," Albert Marshman Palmer (1838-1905), sar-
castically alleging a vindictive motive for that ami-
able action. Palmer, who had been one of the most
successful and influential of theatrical managers
in New York, was infirm in health, poor in cir-
cumstances, and broken in spirit, and Mansfield's
purpose, in giving him emploj^ment, was that of
practical kindness, and not that of "vengeance," as
he grimly stated to me that it was. Mansfield did
not like Palmer, for the reason, as he intimated
to me, that when a member of the Union Square
stock-company, he had suffered under the harsh

J'Initiiiiriiiili I'll i^driiuij. Xcii- Vdil:

ALBERT M. PALMER

A. M. PALMER 245

exercise of that manager's authority. But Mans-
field was kind-hearted, and he did not often
cherish enmity. He spoke only the truth of him-
self when he said that he was "sorry for old people,"
and he was exceptional, as the world goes, in remem-
bering that persons who, in the noon of their ability
and opportunit}^ have done much and good service,
are entitled to consideration in the decadence of
their powers and fortunes, and in the twihght of
life. It was characteristic, likewise, of his con-
tradictory, perverse nature to ascribe to himself
a bad motive for doing a good deed. Palmer
became, in fact, his agent, in wliich capacity sev-
eral other persons were also employed at the same
time. But Mansfield managed his affairs himself,
and, to the last, permitted no interference with his
business schemes and policy.

The theme of "The First Viohn" had long
been attractive to him, the peculiarly German sen-
timent and atmosphere of the story, no doubt,
appealing strongly to his German taste. That
theme, and many others, we had discussed, and
I had named to him various plays that it seemed
practicable to revive. Some of his comments
exhibit his astute consideration of dramatic mate-
rial and his thorough practical knowledge of liis
profession :

246 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

104 W. 80th Street, New York,

March 5, 1897.
My Dear Winter: —

Thank you for your kind letter and all your kindly interest.

I believe, with you, that " " is a good thing to do,

and I will underline it for next season. . . .

"The Man o' Airlie" will do as it is.

Perhaps, if a good play were written around Ohenreizer, it
might be advisable to do it — altho' I begin to think the less we
do disagreeable things the better; however, all depends on the
play, does it not? "No Thoroughfare" strikes me as being a
bad play. . . .

"Yorick's Love" will need re-writing; it is talky to a degree,
and, moreover, a mistake, to my thinking, has been made,
in placing the period in Shakespeare's time. There is no change
of costume for the Tragedy, and the spectator is puzzled,
thereupon, to know whether the scene is being acted on the
stage of the Globe, before an audience, or what not.

Concerning the Du Maurier story, now running in Harper's —
I fancy that has already been disposed of, and grabbed by some
manager ; yet there can be no harm in trying to secure the rights.

"The First Violin" is safe to do well, with a fairly good
version — with Eugene as a character, and the love-story strong.
I don't think we want much singing or piano-playing. Unless
these are done by a Master (and I am none), they are best
left alone. . . . It is not an easy subject (for a play).
Everything depends upon the character of Courvoisier. I
think he ought to be made an actual and a strong type — but
how, I cannot tell. ..." R. M.

Two or three plays on "The First Violin" were
critically examined by him and were rejected, but
at last he obtained one that he deemed satisfactory
by making it himself, in cooperation with Mr. J. I. C.
Clarke. That piece was first acted, April 18, 1898,

USE OF MUSIC 247

at the Hollis Street Theatre, Boston, and a week
later was brought to the Garden Theatre, New
York, where it had a prosperous career of five weeks.
The pen name assumed by the actor, on that occa-
sion, was Meridan Phelps. JNIansfield's protest as
to "singing or piano-playing," — an embelHshment
entirely appropriate to a play about a musician, —
was prompted by an odd notion of his that by using
those expedients he would too much "entertain"
his audience, and thus detract from the estimation
in wliich he wished to be held as an actor. He knew
perfectly well the peculiar value of music, when
rightly used, in association wdth drama, and he was
Hkewise aware of his exceptional ability as a musi-
cian. But he had once been an "entertainer," and
decidedly he wished not again to appear in that
capacity or to do anything to invite that designation.
Sometimes, indeed, he would use music, both vocal
and instrumental, and his use of it would be superbly
effective, arousing lively dehght and winning whole-
hearted applause; but at such times he would view
the result with mixed emotions, being at once irri-
tated and gratified by the enthusiastic admiration
that his musical accomplishment had evoked. Music,
accordingly, was not made conspicuous in his pre-
sentation of "The First Viohn."

It seems strange, in the retrospect, that Mans-

248 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

field did not produce "Othello." At almost any time
in his career a production of that play would have
commanded public attention, and, even when he
was most loath to approach a heavy undertaking,
"Othello" did, sometimes, come into his mind as an
alternative. After he had become recognized and
established as the leader of the American stage, —
a position which, in later years, was generally con-
ceded to him, — a revival of that tragedy, with alter-
nate assumptions of Othello and lago, would cer-
tainly have been expedient for him, and, probably,
it would have prospered: for, terrible though it is,
and inexpressibly pathetic and cruelly harrowing to
the feelings, that play, technically considered, as a
piece of dramatic construction, is the greatest in
our language, and it provides boundless opportuni-
ties for acting, and exerts a tremendous influence
upon an audience. Mansfield's active spirit was ever
chafing under the ardent desire of doing fine tilings,
and many were the projects that he considered
(1897), pursued for a while, and then cast aside.
More than once he thought of acting Hamlet, but
from that undertaking I earnestly dissuaded him.
Hamlet is a part to which he was entirely unsuited,
and, happily, he never experimented with it, though
several times he had almost determined to announce
that he would play it:

VALJEAN 249

104 W. 80th Street, New York,

November 11, 1897.
My Dear Winter: —

Will you dine here with me next Sunday evening, at seven?
It is necessary I should see you — and I can't get over to the
island you inhabit.

Life is full of vexations, trials and disappointments — nothing
survives but the memory; and let it be the memory of happy
hours ! . . .

We put " " into rehearsal. It's too deadly — it

won't do ! — we'd starve ! ! I want a version of "Henry V.," and
some day I'll have to do Hamlet. You understand, the
living will do these things. It's expected. You may as well
accept these things as necessary evils — and let me have a good
version, and coach me. At present I know nothing about it.
Say Sunday.''

Yours ever,

R. M.

Another subject for a play upon which he medi-
tated was Victor Hugo's great novel, "Les Mis^ra-
bles." That story, as all readers know, is won-
derfully interesting, profoundly humanitarian, and
inexpressibly pathetic, but practically it is not
dramatic. A play based upon it was submitted
to his attention, but ultimately he decided that the
part of Valjean would prove gloomy and dreary,
besides being an exhaustive tax upon his strength,
and so he wisely relinquished the idea of acting it.
His views relative to heavy productions on the
stage were expressed to me, in reference to that

250 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

piece, which, indeed, I had tried to edit for his use,
when he was considering the subject:

My Dear Old Fellow:—

I do not think that I could undertake a heroic part, and I
could not put on an expensive production — nothing like Paris
during the Revolution, and with such scenes as a fight at the
barricades would entail. And then Five Acts and a Prologue —
I am afraid we won't find any audience to stand that, no mat-
ter how good the play may be — unless the acts are very short.

We never commence in New York until 8.30, and you know
we must be out at eleven. We allow seven minutes for the
setting of a scene — altho', in these days, it generally takes 12.
Therefore, the modern play-goer gets, practically, one and a
half hours of solid play ! It is on this account, partly, that
I have been so strenuously opposing productions, of late. This
scenery is ruining me — scenery, and dresses, and heaps of
people! Here I am with a salary list of $1,800 a week. By
April I shall have paid out $53,000 in salaries alone!

If we were to play only in New York or in London — with
occasional trips into the larger cities of the Provinces, I should
be all right, and able to produce many plays finely, but I go
from Oshkosh to Kalamazoo — I have no abiding place, and I
live on the railroad track ! The railway expenses for people
and scenery are enormous; railroads last week, $1,256! If I
am ever to make money I must follow Jefferson's example, and
find a powerful character with an inexpensive cast, and no
scenery.

A really fine play may run to decent business for one month
in New York — all the rest is a loss and an advertisement for
the Provinces — and they no longer accept a New York verdict
— they judge for themselves, and the little writers of the local
papers are striving to form local judgment.

If we want to make money we must have a great character,
in the simplest setting. And I do not desire to appear always

INCUBUS OF SCENERY 251

as an old man — I want a simple story, and a strong love
interest, and no scenery. I must use my youth whilst it lasts —
it is nearly gone — and convince the girls that I know how to
make love, and show them that I have some fire and passion.
I shall be in New York in three weeks, and we look forward to
seeing you.

Yours ever,

Richard Mansfield.

Mansfield's disapproval of the use of elaborate,
heavy, and costly scenery was, unquestionably,
judicious, because the investiture of a play should
always be subordinated to its intrinsic interest and
dramatic power, meaning, and value. It happened,
however, strangely enough, that his final relief from
a crushing burden of debt, and likewise his acquisi-
tion of almost unrivalled popularity throughout the
country, ensued from a production of the heaviest
kind and a play of ephemeral interest. A little
while before "Valjean" was suggested to him, —
mention of Hugo's novel having been made because
of his known desire for great and impressive sub-
jects,— he had written to me:

I am THE man — and I intend to stay there, I have no small
ambitions, and if I find it impossible to do good and noble
work I shall do none at all. My purposes are to present great
historical plays, to depart from tradition, to instruct while I
entertain. I have in view Napoleon Bonaparte, Frederick the
Great, Henry the Eighth (not Shakespeare's), and, for lighter
work, I shall present fairy tales for children, but fairy tales

252 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

that have a powerful moral, such as "The Man Without a
Shadow." I need new plays — that's all!

Early in 1898, while prosperous with "The Devil's
Disciple" and while preparing to produce "The
First Violin," he heard of the success that Constant
Coquelin had achieved abroad with "Cyrano de
Bergerac," and he considered the expediency of
offering to his public an English version of that
French drama. His season in New York ended on
June 14, and in July he went to London, where he
saw, at the Lyceum Theatre, the performance of
that play, given by Coquelin and a French com-
pany. Whatever doubt he might have entertained
as to the feasibility of acting the Rostand romance in
English was dispelled, and, returning to America,
he immediately began active preparations for its
presentment. It was not protected by American
copyright, and he could not acquire the exclusive
control of it, but he hoped and expected to prevail
in holding it, by his priority, his commanding posi-
tion, and the splendor of scenic adornment with
which he would invest it. The result measurably
justified his expectation. "Cyrano de Bergerac" was
produced by him at the Garden Theatre, New York,
on October 3, 1898, and it proved an affluent,
unequivocal success. On the same night, in Phila-

CYRANO 253

delphia, another version of the play was produced
by Augustin Daly, — Ada Rehan acting Roxane,
and Mr. Charles Richman acting Cyrano; and soon a
bounteous crop of bulbous-snouted lovers over-
spread the stage, as if some Cadmus had been sow-
ing noses instead of dragon's teeth all over the
land. Mansfield retained Cyrano in his repertory
for more than a year, acting it almost continu-
ously, and drawing crowds of interested spectators
wherever he appeared. It was not until December,
1899, that he deemed it advisable to revert to selec-
tions from the repertory in which he had already
been accepted.

The germ of the central idea contained in "CjTano
de Bergerac" could have been found in Balzac's novel
of "Modeste Mignon": at all events, it occurs there.
The heroine of that fiction begins a correspondence
with Canalis, who turns the affair over to his sec-
retary, L,a Brier e, and the latter, in the assumed
personality of his patron, makes a noble showing of
himself, and fascinates, and ultimately wins, the
lady. Rostand's play is not directly based on Bal-
zac's novel, — since it uses a different set of char-
acters, and illustrates its theme in a different way
and pursues it to a different conclusion. But the
theme has been exhausted by Balzac, whose treat-
ment of it is exceedingly felicitous. The late Mr.

254 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

Paul Leicester Ford, long an esteemed friend of
Mansfield's, treated the same postulate, in a modi-
fied manner, in a composition called "The Story of
an Untold Love." Still another tale relative to this
idea was written, many years ago, by Mrs. Frank
McCarthy, entitled "Wanted — a Soul." Mansfield's
production of "Cyrano" conferred the "luxury of
woe" on thousands of such persons as are inter-
ested in the troubles of true love. Its course, as
usual, did not run smooth. In January, 1899, Mans-
field, when acting in Chicago, was sued, conjointly
with Edmond Rostand, for royalties on "Cyrano
de Bergerac," and was enjoined from further
presentment of the play, but later the restriction was
removed. The plaintiff in the suit was Mr. Samuel
Eberly Gross, who charged that Rostand's play
was a plagiarism of a drama by him, called "The
Merchant Prince of Cornville," which, he declared,
had been acted at the Novelty Theatre, London,
as long ago as November 11, 1896, when Rostand
might have seen it or heard of it. The decision in
the case, ratified, by Judge C. C. Kohlsaat, in the
United States Circuit Court for the Northern
District of Illinois, was favorable to Mr. Gross.
Careful study of Mr. Gross's play and comparison
of it with that of M. Rostand, did not then,
and does not now, discover any adequate reason

Photograph by E. \V. Uistcd, A'cr- York

RICHARD MANSFIELD IN 1898

ROSTAND 255

for supposing that M. Rostand had an acquaintance
with Mr. Gross's drama, when he wrote "Cyrano de
Bergerac." The protagonist of the play was one
of his countrymen, recorded and described in French
biography, and the learning of M. Rostand had so
impressed Coquelin as to cause that actor to say
"He knows everything." There can be no doubt
that he possessed ample knowledge of the history
of his native land and was under no necessity of
seeking inspiration or information about Cyrano
from a writer in Chicago. The probable indebted-
ness of M. Rostand to Balzac has already been
intimated. The author to whom, obviously, he is
indebted is Shakespeare. Mansfield, however, was
obliged to pay royalties to Mr. Gross, for the use
of M. Rostand's drama, and that payment he
made, as long as he continued to act in it.

IX.

1899 TO 1906.

With the production of "Cyrano de Bergerac"
the tide of pecuniary emolument turned in Mans-
field's favor, and in his favor, thereafter, it con-
tinued to flow. No play that he subsequently pro-
duced could be accounted a total failure, while
several of his later productions were abundantly
remunerative. "The Misanthrope," indeed, did not
prove popular; but he did not lose money by it,
and his recourse to Alceste was advantageous to
his professional reputation. "Don Carlos" was not
largely attractive; but the revival of it gratified
the German public, and by his picturesque, pas-
sionate impersonation of its hero he augmented
his renown. "Peer Gynt" did not obtain the
lucrative acceptance that he had hoped for it, —
thinking, as he did, that the public was eager for
sometliing bizarre; but his fine acting sustained
even that dreary burden for a httle while, his popu-
larity averting disaster from the representation of
nebulous gammon. The other productions that he
made were munificently compensated. With "Henry

256

PROSPERITY 257

v.," "Beaucaire," "Julius Csesar," "Old Heidel-
berg," and "Ivan the Terrible" he was triumphant,
and in Iiis later years his well-tried repertory was
"a tower of strength." A serious illness interrupted
his industry early in 1899, and kept him from the
stage for three weeks, February 13 to March 6,
and, in the spring of 1900, he was obhged to close
his season earlier than he had intended, because of
a disabling affection of the throat; but he met with
no other serious impediment. The prosperity that
then attended his professional labor not only enabled
him, as time passed, to pay all his debts, — an adjust-
ment of worldly affairs in which he found great
satisfaction, — but to accumulate a considerable
property, which he destined for the wife and child
whom he idolized. His view of himself as a man
of business was ingenuously expressed to me, about
that time, 1899, on an occasion when I had ven-
tured to remonstrate with him, upon some apparent
extravagance: "You are mistaken," he said; "I am
not extravagant. Some of the greatest financiers
have been extravagant, — witness Fouque. But I
am not. Most of the persons whom I employ think
I make money easily, and that there will be
extravagance, and that money is to be easily made
out of me. But they are mistaken. I am, in fact,
a very close calculator, or I should not be ahve

258 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

to-day. I am always ready to give freely, but I
can only do that by watching closely every dollar
that I earn, or that is rightly mine, and I do so."
That was an amiable delusion. He did not "watch
his dollars," — unless, indeed, he watched their flight.
"There goes a man," he said to me, one day when
we were strolHng in the avenue, "whom I could
send to prison. He is a thief. He has stolen at
least $50,000 of my money." Mansfield's losses
were large. During his theatrical seasons in Eng-
land, in 1888-'89, as certified by himself, they
amounted to $167,000. Between that time and 1895
he suffered other heavy losses, — although also he
earned much money, and "paid as he went." His
sickness in 1895 cost him $80,000, but, as he then
wrote, "I have saved my theatre," — ^meaning the
Garrick. He had not saved it for long, however,
and while he continued to retain it his losses were
increased. In short, he must have carried, for
some time, a debt verging to nearly half a million.
By 1901, through one agent alone, he had paid
more than $200,000, squaring accounts with various
creditors, but it was not till the end of the season
of 1904-'05 that he was completely clear of debt
and could think of his possessions as free from
encumbrance. Those facts indicate the magnitude
of his ultimate professional popularity and of the

FIDELITY 259

compensation that he obtained for his professional
exertions. Prosperity on the stage had enabled him
to make profitable investments that helped to
unshackle liim. It was prosperity richly deserved;
for Mansfield made splendid productions; he put
forth all his strength; and, in dealing with the pub-
he, he was never niggard of either his money or
himself: he was never known to slight a perform-
ance, however trivial the part that he assumed or
however unimportant the place in which he hap-
pened to be acting. The noble achievements of
his later years imply an opulent yet sorrowful sug-
gestion of the great things that he would have
done, if sufficient wealth had come to him earlier
in life. No actor has ever proclaimed a more
generous ideal of management than Mansfield
avowed, on the last night of his presentment of
''Richard III.," at Palmer's Theatre, in 1889.
"What I take from the public with one hand," he
said, "I will give back with the other."

A German proverb declares that "Living is striv-
ing." Up to the point where he gained affluent
financial success with "Cyrano de Bergerac" Mans-
field's professional life, as shown in many details
of it and as indicated in some of his letters, was
one of incessant toil, carking anxiety, and fretful
contention. From that point onward, although liis

260 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

high endeavor was not abated nor his strenuous
exertion relaxed, he advanced more easily, he
acquired more sincerity, he dwelt more in the sun-
shine, and he was happier than before. Success did
not entirely tranquillize him nor remove all asperity
from his character and manners : no man ever escapes
from himself: but it made him more gentle, con-
siderate, and philosopliical, and gradually it turned
his thoughts, and perhaps his wishes, toward dis-
continuance of the struggle. In one of his letters
to me, half playful, half serious, written in the
season of 1899-'00, that inchnation was indicated:
"I fully realize what you say about the twilight of
our lives, but some of us — and you are one — have
calciums in our 'in'ards,' that can brilliantly illumine
our days, to the end. Therefore, be of good cheer.
I should greatly Hke to see you. I have set the
limit to this business — five more years, and then a
cottage, and honeysuckle, and jasmine, and all the
sweet flowers of the garden, and a whiff of the
ocean, in dear old England! I am sick to death of
the sawdust that the doll is stuffed with." He was,
nevertheless, still eager for novelties. "We are,
unfortunately, without a new play," he wrote,
"because the French gentleman (?), to whom I paid
$5,500 for a play, has kept my money, but has
delivered no MS, These foreign people treat every-

Pliotoyiapli by licutlin

EDMOND ROSTAND

"KING HENRY V. " 261

thing about us with great contempt — excepting
always our money." The disappointment was not
without its compensation, for it hastened his resort
to an earlier choice, and caused him once more to
try a Shakespearean revival. The imposing his-
torical play of "Henry V.," which had not been
acted in New York since 1875, — when Charles
Calvert produced it, at Booth's Theatre, with George
Rignold as Kirig Henry, — was wisely selected for
that venture. He had long been thinking of it. "I
am very anxious," he wrote, "that you should edit
a playing version of 'Henry V.' Both Charles
Kean and Calvert cut the play — notably the speeches
of Henry — all to pieces. I have restored all the
fine passages. I desire, particularly, a Preface
from your pen. Appleton will publish the book."
It seemed to me best that he should himself edit
the play and write the Preface, since that labor,
exacting nice discrimination as to every detail, could
not fail to deepen the concentration of liis thought
upon the subject, and fortify his command of it.
"I am more sorry than I can say," he answered,
replying to my refusal, "that you cannot under-
take to write the Introduction to our version of
'Henry V.,' because, just at tliis time, there exists
a condition of affairs the like of wliich, I suppose,
is unknown in theatrical liistory — and it would be

262 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

well for the 'bosses' to know that they cannot boss
all of us. We have had unheard-of trouble in stag-
ing 'Henry V.' After signing the contracts for the
Garden, the Frohmans arranged with Mr. Sothern
to come in, for a fortnight, before us, and gave
him the use of the Theatre throughout the entire
summer. We have been forced to rehearse, to build,
to paint, anywhere — even in Brooklyn!" All
obstacles were surmounted, though, and on October
3, 1900, at the Garden Theatre, New York, he
accomphshed a magnificent representation of that
superb drama, acting Henry of. Monmouth for the
first time, and giving a performance of extraordi-
nary vigor, variety, and beauty. His book of the
play, with a thoughtful, interesting Preface and
Notes, by himself, and with Notes on the Heraldry
of the play, by Alfred J. Rodwaye, F.R.H.S.,
was published in the same season. In his presenta-
tion of "Henry V." scrupulous attention was given
to details, yet, strangely enough, in the Battle
Scene, during the early performances, the royal
standard of Great Britain was reared, a banner not
adopted till nearly three hundred years after Henry
V. had been laid in his grave.

The season of 1900-'01 was devoted exclusively
to "Henry V.," and then, on October 7, 1901,
inaugurating a new theatre in Philadelphia, called

"BEAUCAIRE" 263

The Garrick, he brought out a new play, entitled
"Beaucaire," which had been made for liim bj^ jNIr.
Booth Tarkington and Mrs. E. G. Sutherland,
and in that he gave a light, bright, charming per-
formance. The play was derived from a sparkling
narrative, largely infused with colloquy, by Mr.
Tarkington, in which, contrary to custom in tales
of romance, the lover renounces his idol, upon find-
ing that she is a selfish, worldly, time-serving woman,
unworthy of love. That point was waived in the
drama, conformably to the accepted theory that "a
happy ending" is indispensable to a love-story on
the stage. The play is a compound of the usual
conventional incidents, — love, misunderstanding,
impediment, peril, rescue, explanation, -sdllainy
defeated, virtue rewarded, and ultimate connubial
bliss. It provided Mansfield with an opportunity,
which he ably improved, of manifesting liis remark-
able skill in light comedy, and it became so popu-
lar that he was enabled to use it, during the season
of 1901-'02, as the principal feature of his reper-
tory. "Beaucaire" was presented in New York
for the first time on December 2, 1901, at the Herald
Square Theatre, where it held the stage till January
25, 1902, and thereafter it was taken on a tour,
southward as far as New Orleans and northward
as far as Montreal.

264 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

New St. Charles, New Orleans,
My Dear Winter: — February 4, 1902.

I was more than sorry that during my visit to New York
I could not see you — that I could not come to you and that you
could not come to me ! It is a great pity that two hearts that
beat as .one should have to beat so far apart! — And that we
can't smoke churchwardens and guzzle and chatter and nod
and be Goldsmith and Garrick and all the rest of it: —
"I where the lights are shining,
You, all alone, in the gloom."
It's time we had a little fun !

Next year — next summer — I go abroad. Beatrice leaves
shortly for England, to find a home — will you go up to see
her, and tell her about places — you know all about it, and
can give her the most valuable advice. It is to be a cottage, all
our own, where love and comfort and a modest competency
are to attend our declining days — without regard to the nobility
and gentry of the neighborhood. It is to be hoped that you
will come and occasionally sojourn with Micawher! If you'll
come to us in England, we will arrange to write "The Humorous
Life of Mansfield," By an Eye-Witness.

My love to you,

R. M.

The purpose of establishing a permanent home
for himself in England had long been in liis mind,
but it was never fulfilled. At the close of this tour,
which ended at Montreal on July 4, he sailed from
that port, and he passed several weeks at Wey-
bridge, one of the loveliest retreats in the lovely
county of Surrey — a land that lures the tired mortal
to stay in it forever. In the meantime he thus
cheerily recorded liis doings and impressions.

; ■si.'TL^-.' ' '. >-iT^ -^•■■Ty3suT-'>p&fliieaHMSHSsHrHSi3rr-:wstr

RICHARD MANSFIELD

"WORKING FOR MONEY" 265

St. Nicholas Hotel, St. Louis,

April 10, 1902.
My Dear Winter: —

Sorry you are not quite all right — but I suppose California
will quickly make you well. Sorry too that you are not going
to England this summer. Beatrice will be sailing on the sea
before you get this. She leaves on Saturday, by the Minne-
haha. She, the boy, and the governess. She will find a place
in England, and I shall — D. V. — join her in July, leaving from
Montreal, where I close my season. If you had been on the
other side, need I say how glad we should have been to have
had a long visit from you.''

I will send your letter to B. and perhaps some of the
places you mention may attract her — but I fancy she will want
to be nearer London. Some of the so-called authors want to
interview me about plays — ^which become more and more diffi-
cult to obtain. No one knows what to produce. Shakespeare's
plays have to be so garnished that the cost of production and
the subsequent cost of transportation of scenery and company
eat up all profits. In London Mr. Tree is producing "spectacles"
only. "Ulysses" seems to be a sort of Christmas pantomime.
"Herod" was disgusting, and "Paola and Francesca" futile.
Also, as there are no actors in England, there are no authors.

Irving tells me he will do nothing new. I am thinking only
of saving enough money for B. and the boy to live on. If
nothing good comes along I shall revive, next season, a large
repertory of plays, tvell done as to scenery and costumes.
This will, probably, pay as well as anything else, and, after
all is said, we are working for money, and if it doesn't come
in we are simply not successful.

is sailing (and so is Mrs. ) on the Minnehaha,

with B. and the boy, so B. will not want for company. Mrs.

is an energetic Lady who is always starting some new

enterprise and then dropping it. She coquettes with Fortune
and is so fickle that she is eternally dropping the bone to pick

266 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

up the shadow. Her last venture was a millinery establish-
ment— her next may be a livery stable or a Tea Garden. How-
ever it keeps her amused, and guessing!

I hear Miss Adams is to play Juliet, all next season: Sothern
Hamlet, Goodwin Othello and lago, Hackett King Lear, and
Faversham Gilbert Parker's "Right of Way/' and all the novels
of the season are to be dramatized. The Bible (The Syndicate
has discovered that this book is well-known) is being largely
employed for Dramatic purposes. / have had three plays
about David — who seems to have been a very disreputable
person — and even the Lambs Club has produced a comic opera
on the subject of our Lord! I don't know what will happen
next! The success of "Ben Hur" has set these people going.

Cheer up! and believe me always yours,

R. M.

On Tour, Duluth,

June 23, 1902.
My Dear Winter: —

It was a great pleasure to hear from you. This season has
been somewhat unduly protracted by fat managers who sit
and smoke cigars and "book dates." I have been travelling for
weeks and weeks — sometimes I have been bumped for thirty-
six hours at a stretch.

A letter which I wrote to "The Herald" regretting the
publicity accorded every wretched "faker" who doesn't want to
work, or can't act — and thus encouraging incompetency, idle-
ness, and cheap advertisement — has been largely circulated
amongst "the profession," and "The Herald" has requested
Mr. Tree's opinion, etc., etc., as to the decadence of the stage.
Mr. Tree and the rest of that lot, both in England and here,
are of the opinion that / am an ass (in which I entirely agree
with them!) and that nobody in the world ever lived who could
act as finely as Tree and his lot do ! "The Herald" has been
very careful to avoid asking the opinion of anybody that

"THE GRANGE" 267

knows anything. Irving, Wyndham, Coquelin, have all recently
bemoaned the fact that it is almost impossible to secure even a
decent actor or actress, for a reasonable compensation.

I am trying to make up a cast for "Julius Caesar," but it is
very difficult. I shall have to play Brutus. And he is, after
all is said — the man.

I am sailing from Montreal on July 5, on the Allan Steamer
(the name of which is uncertain, as, just as soon as I have
engaged a passage on one of the line it is instantly engaged by
the British Government to import Boers or deport mules!).
However, I sail on the 5th of July, and, if you are on the
dock, with your bag, early — very early — I will take you along
with me. I spend a couple of months at Wey bridge on the
Thames.

Yours always,

Richard.

On his return from England, in August, 1902,
he went to New London, Conn., and, taking a fancy
for that picturesque, interesting old town (the region
was, many years ago, declared by Humboldt to be
exceptionally blessed, as to soil, air, and water, with
all the natural conducements to perfect health),
he bought the first of the three estates there of
which ultimately he was the possessor, and, styling
it "The Grange," determined that it should be his
final residence, and soon, by alteration and embellish-
ment, converted it into a veritable Baronial Hall,
such as he had often dreamed of possessing, in some
peaceful English rural nook, "far from the mad-
ding crowd's ignoble strife."

268 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

Mansfield's passionate desire to be everywhere
recognized as, absolutely and indisputably, the great-
est actor of his time was in no respect abated, but
rather was intensified, by every success that he
achieved, and, to the end of his days, his ambition
was never satisfied nor his mind ever wholly at rest.
Supremacy in the impersonation of the great char-
acters in Shakespeare was the prerogative at which
he aimed. He was not an imitator of anybody,
but, like many other of the actors of his generation,
he had observed the careers of Edwin Booth and
Henry Irving, and, unlike the mere servile imitators
of those chieftains, he had early determined not
only to emulate but, if* possible, to surpass them,
in breadth of policy, audacity of adventure, and
scope, variety, and importance of acliievement. He
had noted Booth's wisdom in a steadfast adherence
to Shakespeare, and he had considered the success
attendant upon Irving's choice of weird characters
and great historic themes. In itself original and
inclined to take new paths, his mind was much
stimulated, as well as instructed, by those examples,
and his quest for untried subjects and for parts
not less novel than important was, accordingly,
never pretermitted. Several characters, out of the
beaten track, have already been named, upon which
his fancy looked with an approving eye, but wliich

o

<!

o

"JULIUS C^SAR" 269

he could not assume, for lack of plays in which to
present them. At one time he was eager to act
Miles Standish. At another time he studied Con-
rad, in an English version of the Italian play of
"Morte Civile," by P. Giacometti, — ^made known on
the American stage by the famous Italian actor,
Salvini, in 1873, — but, after putting that drama
into rehearsal, he found it unsatisfactory, and
dropped it. At still another time his fancy turned
to Charles the Second. While performing in "Beau-
caire," which he viewed as httle more than a pleasing
bagatelle, he was conscious of the longing for higher
employment, and he determined to act Brutus, in
Shakespeare's great play of "Julius Csesar." His
revival of that tragedy was accompUshed, at the
Grand Opera House, Cliicago, on October 13, 1902,
and it was received with enthusiastic favor. Writ-
ing to me about it, ten days later, he said: "Our
business is enormous. We have not had a seat to
sell this entire week, and it is only a question, every
evening, how many people will consent to stand up."
His presentment of "Julius Caesar" was, in the
matter of scenic investiture, the best, of that play,
ever made in America, — many of the sets being
those that were, originally, devised and painted by
Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema, for Henry Irving's
London Lyceum production of "Coriolanus," — the

270 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

thirteenth and last Shakespearean play brought out
by that actor. Mansfield's embodiment of Brutus
was original in ideal and fine in execution, the
image of a noble person, fanatically centred upon
himself, fatally besieged by one sacrificial, delusive
idea, and predestinate to ruin. He devoted the
entire season of 1902-'03 to that tragedy, and his
practical success with it was great. He brought it
to the capital on December 1, 1902, appearing at
the Herald Square Theatre, and he acted there until
January 17, 1903. A tour of many cities suc-
ceeded, after which he took a summer rest, partly
in his villa at New London, and partly aboard a
yacht which he had recently purchased.

Shelter Island, Schooner Amorita,
My Dear Winter: — June 23, 1903.

I'm sorry you have gone, — or rather had to go, — to California;
for the fact and for the cause. I wanted you to don your flan-
nels, your jauntiest straw hat, stow away a quid in your cheek,
and do the rollicking tar with me. Not that I have been rollick-
ing. You can't rollick much in a steady downpour of rain, last-
ing three weeks, with intermittent fog, and a gale that came very
near wrecking us, altho' we had two anchors down. I man-
aged to fly in here yesterday, and flying it was, — just in time
to save my skin! for it has been blowing great guns all night
and all the morning. But it is jolly to lie snug in my cabin
with my feet considerably higher than my head, a pipe, a toddy,
the lamps lighted, the wind howling in the rigging and the
utter impossibility of anybody coming aboard to bother me,
unless they swim out. Still I do wish the sun would shine

"OLD HEIDELBERG" 271

again. If it stayed like this always it would be the end of all
things, for all would fade and rot. The fruit does not ripen
and the flowers are pale and without perfume.

I am sorry, sorry about Louis. He should not be permitted
to worry or to think of cares. You deserve better, much better
things. . . . Is there anything I can do for you or him?

For my part my plans are to play "Ivan the Terrible" and
"Alt Heidelberg" next season.

All good things to you and yours,

Richard Mansfield.

It was his policy, and it was judicious, to alter-
nate heavy parts with light ones, and the choice that
he made of a play to follow "Juhus Caesar" proved
exceedingly fortunate. His selection was "Old
Heidelberg," in which, as Prince Henry, he gave
a lovely performance, — one which, in spirit and
spontaneity, more than any other achievement
of his career, revealed all that there was of
essential manliness and sweetness in his nature.
The character would be insignificant if it were
merely shown, for it is one that imperatively requires,
in a special sense, impersonation. Visible presence,
audible speech, motion, and "business" often suffice
to constitute a performance and make known a
theatrical fable. Many worthy persons, for example,
have played Hamlet, without ever once becoming
identified with the part or really acting it. In the
character of Prince Henry there is an intrinsic
beauty which must be made actual in the representa-

272 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

tion, and if Mansfield had not possessed the ele-
mental attributes of nobility, integrity, and virtuous
affection, he could not have caused the entirely
delightful effect which attended his revelation of it.
"Old Heidelberg," an adaptation from the German,
was produced by him, on October 12, 1903, to
inaugurate the Lyric Theatre, New York, then first
opened. It is a play that touches life on the
pathetic side, and yet provides the contrast of light
and cheer. He acted in it, at the Lyric, till Novem-
ber 7, and then travelled with it, — all the while
studying and preparing the far more powerful
drama of "Ivan the Terrible."

Union Station, Baltimore,
My Dear Winter: — February 1, 1904.

. . . Everybody is in despair! We are to come to the New
Amsterdam Theatre in New York, on the 29th of this month —
to present some old plays and one new — "Ivan the Terrible." I
do wish things were better with you: livelier and more hopeful,
that you had somebody by you to cheer your life! work, work,
work, and no play, makes Jack a dull boy. With me it seems
about the same thing, for I am at it with very poor results,
from early till late; and I get no time for study, which is the
worst feature of the whole business; there seems to be an end-
less string of doubtful humanity waiting to interview me about
everything and nothing. There is more talk in this world than
is good for it !

Well, here's luck to you !

Yours always,

Richard Mansfield.

IVAN 273

Mansfield's quest of extraordinary themes for dra-
matic treatment was not at any time relaxed. The
literary movement which is represented by such
writers as Ibsen, JNIaeterlinck, Sudermann, and the
Italian who calls himself D'Annunzio had attracted
his attention and, to a slight extent, had influenced
his professional conduct. He did not wish to be
extravagant, but he did wish to be unusual. I
have an amused remembrance of having carefully
refrained from directing liis attention to the Emperor
Julian, whose complex and deeply interesting char-
acter, singular aspect, and wonderful career might
have inspired him to cause the composition of still
another of those ponderous tragedies of Roman his-
tory wliich repose upon our book-shelves hke the
huge tombs in a Scotch necropolis. "I read plays
by the score," he wrote: "subjects present them-
selves, and are discarded only to give place to
another idea, which is dismissed." It was in one
of those moods of perplexity that he finally chose
a subject from the liistory of Russia.

The presentment of Count Alexis Tolstoi's "Ivan
the Terrible," March 1, 1904, at the New Amsterdam
Theatre, was one of the great acliievements of Mans-
field's career. The character of Ivan, which is ana-
lyzed elsewhere in this book, makes a prodigious draft
equally upon the emotions and the physical resources

274 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

of an actor, — being that of a cruel, superstitious,
fanatical, sanguinary, ruthless despot, by turns vacil-
lant and resolute, but always grim and dangerous,
who, under circumstances equally dramatic and
afflicting, is overtaken by the avenging doom of
retributive justice. Mansfield's performance signally
exemplified the art of impersonation and was marked
by intense feeling and great tragical power.

316 Riverside Drive,
My Dear Winter:— March 2, 1904-.

Beatrice, who will not allow me to read the newspapers, has
presented me with your more than generous review of "Ivan,"
and I hasten to thank. If the stage were approached in this
spirit by all, how different the stage would be! I wish I
deserved all you say, but how fine and truly illuminative our
poor art becomes, when the hand of the poet has recorded the
view of the poet!

It was a trying time. Imagine being obliged to take an
elevator after each scene and being transported to the fourth
story! One felt that nothing remained but to order a jug of
ice-water and go to bed!

In these days of Clyde Fitches it's pretty diflScult to get peo-
ple to listen to the historical drama. What would be the
effect here of the plays concerning Wallenstein, by Schiller,
or Don Carlos, or Count Egmont, or even "Henri Quatre et sa
Cour," which always delights Paris? "Richard II.".'' How-
ever, something is accomplished, something done — and thank
God, you are here!

When are you coming up? or at all events, join me at the
Theatre one evening and see the Elevator!

What news of Louis? Love from Beatrice,

Yours always, _

Richard.

"AS YOU FIND IT" 275

It was about this time that he wrote his clever
monologue called "As You Find It," in wliich
the common subservience to wealth is displayed and
the sycophancy and insincerity possible to human
nature are satirized. Mansfield had known poverty
and the slights that are put upon it by arrogant
wealth, and he did not forget his experience. "It
is necessary to be rich," he once said to me; "if
you are poor, they make you wait outside, on the
mat. If you are rich, they throw the doors wide
open and welcome you in. I have had enough of
waiting on the mat. I mean to have money and
lots of it. I am tired of being patronized by snobs
and swells." Social toadyism to wealth, such as
Bulwer has ridiculed in his fine comedy of "Money,"
had become obnoxious to him, and the meanness and
absurdity of it are well and humorously exempli-
fied in the sketch of "As You Find It," which,
nevertheless, he undervalues, as "silly," in this letter.

Hotel Seville, New York,

October 29, 1904.
My Dear Winter: —

Your cliaracteristically kind letter came this morning. It is
good of you to pat me on the back for my silly monologue.
But, all the same, I will send the pats to New London, for
Beatrice; they may do her good.

Charles Wyndham arrives this morning. I am distressed
that I can't show him some little attention. He was good to

276 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

Beatrice when she was last in London. If you should see him,
please tell him, will you? I leave on Saturday — to-morrow —
at 8 o'clock, from the Grand Central.

Rehearsals are well progressed but very dreadful. In Bos-
ton we are giving Ivan, Rodion, "The Merchant," Richard the
Third, "A Parisian Romance," and Dr. Jehyll and Mr. Hyde.

I wish you would look up "Charles II.," if you have the
leisure. Also, is there any old play that is at all possible —
that we could touch up.''

All good to you all !

Richard.

In the course of this year an impulse of kind-
ness led him to suggest to Miss Ada Rehan the
project of a Testimonial theatrical performance,
in my honor and for my benefit, which, as soon as
I heard of it, I declined to accept. To that project,
about which there was some gossip, he makes a
passing reference:

Private Car 403,

Newark, N. J., Dec. 15, 1904.
My Dear Winter: —

Yes, I hear Mr. Hackett quite succeeded in ruining "Charles
II." However, some day we may be able to do something with
the old boy.

You heard from Miss Rehan, I see. She consulted me, and
I told her practically what you said — that as long as you are
writing it would be a difficult imdertaking, that a Testimonial
would have to be unanimous, or not at all, and that you are
not inclined to take it, any way. But your retirement would
naturally call for such an acknowledgment of your services
to Literature and Art. I hope I may be there, to do my little
all — and yet I hope it may be a long way off!

MOLlfiRE 277

It is most dreadfully cold and gloomy here. A barn of
a theatre — which gaps like a black cavern and puffs blasts of
icy wind upon the miserable, shivering being in tights and a
short cloak, — howling Shakespeare into an expanse of unre-
sponsive emptiness! "A horse! a horse! — my kingdom for a
horse!" An automobile would be more to the point! Any-
thing on which to get away. There are numerous kindly dis-
posed creatures here, who invite me to all sorts of impossible
entertainments. One old Lady hopes I will come to dinner,
quite informally on Saturday, after the matinee! . . .

As always yours,

Richard Mansfield.

His next step was to Moliere. We had often
talked of the great Frenchman, — his deep knowl-
edge of human nature, his deft, delicate touch, in
the portrayal of character and manners, the vicissi-
tude of his fortune, and his sad experience, — and
it was indeed a pleasure to hear that a trial would
at last be made, in English, by an actor singularly
competent to make it, of the classic comedy of
France.

Chicago, February 5, 1905.
My Dear Winter: —

I am thinking of giving one of Moli^re's plays, in March — •
just for the sake of a novelty and because it will be pleasant
for the Ibsen and Shaw cult!

Tell me which you think would be possible. Tartuffe I do
not care to do. Can you advise me?

I had a letter last night from Miss Rchan, to say good-by —
poor Lady, she seems always sad, and one can do nothing to
cheer lier up.

278 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

With every good wish that your affairs will soon have a little
sunshine in them, believe me,

Always yours, Richard Mansfifld.

The Virginia Hotel, Chicago, all this week — then I go South
and will be at the Tulane Theatre, New Orleans, Feb. 20, but
please answer this at once!

There could be no hesitancy as to the correct
choice. He had decided wisely, in deciding against
*'Tartuffe," — a play which, notwithstanding its
ingenuity of construction, is obnoxious to good taste,
because of its gross fidehty to *'the seamy side" of
life. The play for Mansfield, obviously, was "The
Misanthrope," and I responded to his request by
naming that piece, urging him to produce it, and
sending to him a copy of it, which I happened to
possess, in sheets, of the expert translation made by
the late Miss Katherine Prescott Wormeley. The
time, to me, was one of bereavement and affliction,
my son Louis (previously mentioned in some of
Mansfield's letters) having died, after a long and
afflicting illness, in California, and it was not easy
to think of plays: but labor is the only refuge from
sorrow. Mansfield signified his sympathy with the
choice of "The Misanthrope" and at once applied
himself to the study of Alceste, — a character which
he was destined to make distinctively his own, upon
the American stage, and with which the remem-
brance of him will long remain entwined.

SHYLOCK EXALTED 279

Private Car 403, New Orleans,

February 23, 1905.
My Poor Winter : —

I am deeply grieved to hear the sad news — and of course, of
course you know you have all my heartfelt sympathy and that
of Beatrice,

I understand what you say about your work, but I find, as I
go on, that work is about the only thing — the only good thing,
that is left to us. It is the antidote. . . .

I enclose a notice of "The Merchant" from "The Picayune."
It is only recently (the notice is, otherwise, of no importance)
that people have recognized that Shyloch would not be likely to
subscribe a deed that would give half his fortune to the man
who lately stole his daughter — or to Antonio; or that he would
consent to become a Christian. There is only one thing for
Shyloch, and that is death. Do you remember whether any
other actor had that idea? or indicated clearly that intention.?

Our houses are sold out for the remainder of the engagement!

I am hard at work on "The Misanthrope." Heaven only
knows if I can ever learn all the words — but the work appeals
to me, and if the people can stand Shaw, they ought to endure
Moliere ?

With much love and sympathy.

Always yours,

Richard Mansfield.

A disposition to theorize about Shyloch, pro-
pitious to the idea that he is an object of sj^m-
pathy, always lingered in Mansfield's mind. His
genial theory did not much affect the perceptible
spirit of his j^erformance, when he acted the part, —
its only effect, indeed, being to confuse and per-
plex exactitude of correct ideal; but he liked to

280 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

dwell upon it, and, in particular, he fancied that
he had hit upon a remarkably illuminative expedi-
ent when he devised "business" suggestive of suicide,
at the end of the Trial Scene. The text of the
play, meanwhile, is distinctly opposed to that fan-
tastic view of Shylockj and, while other actors,
from Edmund Kean to Henry Irving, have accentu-
ated good traits in the character, and tried to suf-
fuse it with some little glow of humanity, no other
acter ever discovered, in that rapacious, sanguinary
usurer, any such Brutus-Kke grandeur of soul as
would constrain him to seek, in self-inflicted death,
a refuge from the consequences of defeat in his
plan of revenge and murder. If Shylock could
be considered capable of recourse to that desperate
alternative, when baffled, he could equally be con-
sidered capable of stabbing Antonio to the heart,
and then stabbing liimself, in the Court of Venice,
and so, at least, accomplishing his vengeance. This
subject, as a matter of Shakespearean commentary
and of acting, is duly considered in another chapter
of tliis memoir. It may not, however, be amiss to
indicate a plain reason for the scrupulous anxi-
ety, as to the radically villainous character of Shy-
lock that has been evinced by Mansfleld, and by
other performers of the part who have been con-
spicuous in recent years. The Hebrew population,

TO PLEASE JEWS 281

alike in Great Britain and the United States, is
numerous and potential, possessing vast wealth
and being ardently animated by a racial, clannish
spirit. If that population should, within the next
half century, increase in numbers and power in
the same ratio in which it has increased within the
last twenty-five years, it may chance to become
the predominant race, in both countries. The ques-
tion whether that result of time is either likely or
desirable is not material here. The point to be
noted is that actors of Shyloch have shown them-
selves desirous to present the part in such a way
as to win the favor and thus the support of the
Hebrew population. One of Mansfield's letters
distinctly intimates that such was liis purpose, while
another of his letters imputes a similar purpose to
Henry Irving. A scheme of art which perverts a
character from the truth, in order to please any-
body, is manifestly wrong. Shylock is a superb
part and, when played by a competent actor, is
tremendously effective, whatever gloss be put upon
it; but Shylock, as dra^vn by Shakespeare, is a
treacherous, wily, bloody-minded villain, and no more
a representative J^v than Macheth is a representa-
tive Scot, or lago a representative Italian, or Rich-
ard a representative Englisliman. He is, indeed,
drawn as a Jew; but, though a Jew, he is also a

282 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

prodigy; he typifies some of the worst passions in
human nature, and those passions are quite as
natural to Jews as to members of other races, — a
fact which is mentioned, with considerable emphasis,
and by an unimpeachable authority, in the old
Hebrew Testament.

In the later revivals that Mansfield effected,
not only of "The Merchant of Venice" but of
"Richard III.," he shifted the scenes and cut the
text in such a way as to mangle those plays almost
beyond recognition, his object being to shorten the
time occupied in the performance, and to concentrate
the burden of representation upon himself. Those
portions that he used of the first two acts of the
Comedy were conmiingled in one act, productive of
a wearisome effect of prolixity, while the Tragedy
was so much altered that, until the last act, it was
an episodical jumble. His impersonation of Rich-
ard, though, was seen to have grown in power and,
at the end, was finer than ever, — being the authentic
achievement of a tragedian. In the Dream Scene
he rose to a splendid chmax of mingled emotions
and produced a starthng effect. My estimate of his
assumption of Shyloch, unhappily, remained irk-
some to him, although he became sufficiently pliilo-
sopliic to mention it without asperity. " I have read
your brilliant essays," he wrote, "and I see that you

A GREAT NIGHT 283

still object to my characterization of Shylock. I
am sorry: if you had to play him you would, prob-
ably, soon change your views"

On one of his Shylock nights, when I chanced to
be in front, I sent a written message to him, telling
him that I expected and hoped (vain hope!) that I
should not again see "The Merchant of Venice,"
and asking him to act for me; to give me a fine
memory of a performance of Shylock, and to place
exceptional emphasis on the Street Scene — in which,
generally, actors fall short of the effect that is pos-
sible; and he acted that scene in a thoroughly
magnificent manner, rising, indeed, to the full
height of its terrific passion and its burning elo-
quence. Later that evening (March 23, 1905) and
before the performance had ended I received this
word from Shylock:

Dear Winter: —

Thank you for the inspiration. But — it is not going to be
your last view of "The Merchant," by very many, and I hope
they may all be better than mine!

You see what you did — the audience has never seen this
play before, and thought I had finished my invective, not
knowing that I had still more noise in me! I'm playing only
for you — my subtlest; nobody else will understand it but you.
Do go to the Holland House to-night,'' It is bitterly cold!

Your R. M.

284 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

On March 20, 1905, Mansfield began an engage-
ment at the New Amsterdam Theatre, New York,
acting Brummell. Selections from his repertory fol-
lowed, and on April 10 he brought out "The ]Mis-
anthrope" and, for the first time, acted Alceste. His
impersonation, essentially a gem of dramatic art,
was greatly admired, especially by those observers
who perceive and enjoy acuteness of intellect, refine-
ment of style, and precision of expressive art; but
it did not win much popular favor. Alceste, a con-
simmiate image of polished, severe, aristocratic
manners, in a picturesque, ornate environment, is
representative of uncompromising honesty, and there-
fore he is in continual antagonism with the dupKci-
ties, numberless and inveterate, that accompany
social intercourse. Mansfield, — original in mind,
sensitive in temperament, earnest in feeling, satirical
in mood, and somewhat embittered by harsh experi-
ence,— was deeply sympathetic with that character,
and he made it actual in representation. The
comedy of "The Misanthrope" requires, for an
adequate performance of it, a complete company of
actors of the highest order: that requirement was
not fulfilled. The acting of JNIansfield, in all the
plays that he presented during tliis season, was
marked by extraordinary vigor and superlative fin-
ish. The engagement in New York was ended on

JEFFERSON 285

April 22, at the Harlem Opera House, and he
then departed to other cities.

On Easter, 1905, at Palm Beach, Fla., died
that good man and great actor, Joseph Jefferson,
passing away, aged 76, — after a continuous pro-
fessional career of 72 years, the longest in the annals
of the American stage, — in the fulness of honor,
everywhere respected and loved. Mansfield's
acquaintance with Jefferson was slight, but he
admired the veteran and, if circumstances had
permitted, would have been glad to follow his
example. With actors in general he did not culti-
vate personal association, but he was always mind-
ful of the honor and dignity of the Theatre and
always practically sympathetic with every rational
movement for the good of his profession: in 1902,
for example, he performed in aid of "The Actors'
Home," and gained for that excellent establish-
ment about $9,000. He also earnestly advocated the
plan of a Subsidized Theatre, believing that it
would benefit society, and tend toward the redemp-
tion and protection of Iiis calling from mercenary,
unscrupulous, and degrading control. His temper
was not naturally unsocial, but his experience had
made liim somewhat austere, and his laborious
professional occupations restricted him very much
to himself. His judgment of acting was severe

286 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

and not always correct, but fine talent well employed
failed not to elicit his admiration. It is significant
of his taste that he was enthusiastic in praise of Ada
Rehan and of that accomplished comedian J. E.
Dodson. The acting of Jefferson greatly delighted
him, and he deeply valued the good-will of that
illustrious person. Once, when a pernicious news-
paper "interview" had misrepresented Jefferson, as
having disparaged him, he was much hurt and
annoyed. "I do not know," he said, — to a reporter
who sought him and displayed the "interview," —
"why Mr. Jefferson should concern himself with
my acting, and I am sorry to hear that it troubles
him. I believe it is fifteen years since he attended
one of my performances." That remark was pub-
lished and presently it was shown to Jefferson, who
immediately wrote to ^lansfield, with that honesty
and directness for which he was noted, a blunt dis-
claimer of the calumny:

Lexington, Ky.,

April 6, 1900.
My Dear Mr. Mansfield: —

I was much surprised to have the enclosed article handed
to me, by my son. There was, certainly, a conversation regard-
ing Acting in general, at Atlanta, and, naturally, your name
came up, amongst others. It is quite possible that some alert
reporter heard the remark made, which he, either by mistake
or mischief, has attributed to me. On the contrary, when

A GERMAN CLASSIC 287

some such remark was made, I replied that I considered you
a fine actor, and that your acting was always interesting to
me. This is the full extent of my offence. In my career
upon the stage I have made it a rule not to condemn my brother
actors in public.

With cordial regards to Mrs. Mansfield and yourself, I am,

Sincerely yours,

J. Jefferson.

The season of 1904!-'05 ended at Cleveland, on
June 8, and the tired actor went to his home at New
London, intending to rest; but the necessity of fresh
enterprise in his profession continually stimulated
him to fresh endeavor, and his thoughts were ever
busy with the future, permitting no repose. He
had presented one of the best comedies in the old
literature of France. He now resolved upon reani-
mating one of the most admired tragedies existent
in the old literature of Germany. "I have played
all the parts," he said — meaning that he had shown
an image of each representative variety of char-
acter, a statement not exactly accurate, — "I have
run the gamut. There is nothing in sight but 'Don
Carlos.* " He was not confident of the success of
the project, but he knew the worth of the play,
long esteemed a German classic; he hoped that
the German populace would rally to his support,
in the venture; and, after careful study of the
original and of approved translations, he made an

288 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

acting version and prepared for the presentment
of it. Scliiller's play, in its original form (1787),
is inimical to the Roman Catholic Church, and
Mansfield, strongly desirous not to promote or par-
ticipate in a theological wrangle, edited the text
in such a way as to exclude offence to sectarians,
and also he extirpated political and oratorical flour-
ishes,— utilizing only the dramatic elements of the
tragedy. He was, nevertheless, apprehensive of the
unjust and possibly injurious censure of a bigoted
pulpit, — which, indeed, he did not escape, — and his
mind was likewise disquieted by newspaper dis-
paragement. His health was poor and his letters
were sadly indicative of despondency and discontent.

The Grange, New London,

August 16, 1905.
My Dear Winter: —

I was very glad to hear from you, and I am very much
flattered and delighted with the very splendid things you were
good enough to say about me, in Chicago and San Francisco.

My late letters and their tone of despondency were entirely
due to certain articles in certain papers, notably in "The Sun."
It is futile to do good work — to have done good work, in this
country. The conditions are such that every effort is belittled
and every ambition derided.

You speak of my influence: I have none. I can do nothing
whatever, and have nothing to say. The actors themselves
are all only too glad to get a good salary and study one part
a season, and this they can do, with Mr. Frohman and others.

RICHARD MANSFIELD IN 1905

AN ANGRY PULPIT 289

I stand quite alone, for both the Frohmans and the other
managers and all the actors are against me.

Mr. John Drew was recently elected President of the Players
Club, to succeed, by right of merit, to the position occupied
by Mr. Booth and Mr. Jefferson. I have never been deferred
to, upon any occasion whatsoever, and my advice or opinion
is not wanted. No college has ever bestowed any degree upon
me, unless it be that of A. S. S. There is no artistic society
or atmosphere, and I evolve everything out of myself and am
utterly alone.

That I fail to present merely "catch pennies" is simply in
order to preserve my self-respect. If I were to join hands

with Mr. or Mrs. , they would betray me the

next day, and I should be left worse off than now, when I
am merely alone and independent. . . .

I see Irving is to play under Charles Frohman's manage-
ment in Paris ! This is a fine thing for Irving. The weather
is damnable: we have had no summer.

Yours always,

Richard Mansfield.

In the early autumn of this year he was com-
pelled to undergo two successive surgical operations
and he was much weakened by pain, but he rallied,
and on October 27, 1905, he began the theatrical
season with his usual zeal, appearing at the Valen-
tine Opera House, Toledo, Ohio, where, for the
first time, he acted Don Carlos. The intolerance of
the pulpit, as he had expected, immediately became
vocal. A clergyman of Toledo, Rev. J. H. Mueh-
lenbeck, led the attack, by a letter to one of the
newspapers of that city, declaring himself to be

290 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

the spokesman of fifty Roman Catholic societies,
of Lucas County, Oliio, and setting forth their
objections to the presentment of Scliiller's play.
Those objections were: that "Don Carlos" is not
a masterpiece; that it grossly misrepresents the facts
of history; that its twofold plot is a disturbing
element; that "the Princess Amelia, after it had
been read to her once, never again invited Schiller
to her presence" (awful penalty!) ; that "the illicit
intimacy between Don Carlos and his stepmother,
which, like a gangrene, sweeps through the whole
drama, is historically untrue and must fill the
minds of the spectators with moral poison"; and,
finally, because "religious practices and doctrines are
dwelt upon in such a manner as to shock Catholics,
and to promote, in non-Catholics, prejudice and
aversion." The fact that Mansfield had so adapted
the play as to eliminate all suggestion of "illicit
intimacy" and all assailment of any form of religion
made that fulmination nugatory, not to say ridicu-
lous: yet it preyed upon the actor's mind and
depressed his spirit, helping to deepen his ever-
growing conviction that he could expect nothing
but enmity. Most persons who think about the mat-
ter at all are aware that, privately, as a custom of
social gossip, more evil than good is spoken about
them, but, as a rule, it is not till evil-speaking

ABOUT ILL WORDS 291

becomes evil-printing that many persons particularly
regard it.

Strange that the mind, that very fiery particle.
Should let itself be snuffed out by an article!

So wrote the poet Byron, glancing at the fiction
that a hostile review, in "The London Quarterly"
was, indirectly, the cause of the death of the poet
Keats. Stranger still that an actor, or indeed
any artist, should allow himself to be distressed
by printed pribbles and prabbles, such stuff, intrin-
sically, being of no more importance than the
crossing of flies in the air. But so it is. "Would
not a man think" (so wrote the felicitous Dr.
South) "that ill deeds and shrewd turns should
reach further and strike deeper than ill words? And
yet many instances might be given in which men
have much more easily pardoned ill things done
than ill things said against them. Such a peculiar
rancor and venom do they leave behind them in
men's minds, and so much more poisonously and
venomously does the serpent bite with his tongue
than with his teeth."

If every play that is defective as to literary attri-
butes were to be debarred from the stage, few even
of the plays written by the best of dramatists
would be performed. An experienced actor is, nee-

292 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

essarily, better qualified than a clergyman to deter-
mine whether a play is a dramatic masterpiece, and
adapted, or adaptable, for representation. The two-
fold plot of "Don Carlos" does not, and did not,
prevent it from being a practicable, measurably
effective drama. The facts of history have been
found to be somewhat elusive, and there is no invin-
cible ordainment making it compulsory upon the
public to take a specific sectarian view of them.
The Roman Catholic Church, like the Protestant
Church, has dark and terrible records, distressful
to every Christian reader and to all readers : dreadful
deeds have been done, as all the world knows, in the
name of religion: but there was not the slightest
danger of arousing "prejudice and aversion" against
any Church, by indicating the terrors of the old
Spanish Inquisition. That subject has been used on
the stage for many j^ears, and the use of it, within
proper theatrical limitations, has served only to
heighten the pubHc sense of the inestimable value
of liberty of conscience. The Spanish Inquisition
was a damnable iniquity and, at this late day, it
would be strange to find any disinclination to call
it by its right name. At the time when Schiller
wrote "Don Carlos," the human race was struggling
and groaning under the weight of many shackles
which since have been broken. Mansfield did a good

IN CHICAGO 293

deed when he revived Scliiller's tragedy, for he gave
a magnificent performance, and, not improbably, he
reminded his public that freedom is a blessing to
be defended as well as enjoyed.

On October 30 he appeared at the Grand Opera
House, Chicago, presenting "Don Carlos." It hap-
pened to me, making the journey eastward from
Southern Cahfornia, through those wonderful and
delightful scenes of natural pageantry that environ
the Santa Fe Route across the continent, to reach
that city a little while after "Don Carlos" had been
produced, and to have the privilege not only of
seeing a performance of it but of observing the
favor with wliich Mansfield was hailed by the
Chicago audience and the cheering critical esteem
with which his acting was recorded by the Chicago
press. He gained friends in the great Western
capital, and, like Othello in Cyprus, was "well
desired" there. With Schiller's tragedy as the novel
feature of his repertory he traversed a considerable
part of the country, and fulfilled the engagements
of an uncommonly laborious season. He did not
reach New York with "Don Carlos," till ^March
19, 1906, when he presented it at the New Amster-
dam Theatre, supplementing its production with
revivals of his old plays, and ended his engagement
there on April 14. He then made a tour of a few

294 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

cities, including a "return engagement" in Chicago,
and closed his season on May 25.

One interesting incident of his professional indus-
try and experience, in the season of 1905-'06, was
his delivery, at the Chicago University, of a dis-
course about the Theatre. He gave the manuscript
; of it to his friend Herman H. Kohlsaat, who has
I kindly submitted it to my inspection. A few
extracts from that discourse are given here, because
illustrative of his view of the duty of the Stage to
Society and of the duty of Society to the Stage.

\. . . Whilst the Press, which is the voice of the public,
is finding fault with the condition of the stage, it is, perhaps,
forgotten that the public itself is largely responsible for this
condition. When you need a fine President you elect one, and
if you elect a bad one it would be your fault or the fault of
a faulty machine. If you were by any chance to submit to
[ graft in every direction, bad municipal government, insufficient
'f. regulations, bad roads, congested traffics, highway robbery and
\ wholesale vice, who would be to blame, if you are content to
sit with your hands in your laps and yell murder? There
has, ever since I have had the honor and privilege of appearing
before American audiences, been this same outcry against the
American stage, and there has always been sufficient interest
at work to make this outcry, but never sufficient interest to do
anything about it, and here is a case of Talk versus Acting.
Yet, here are some ninety millions of people, possessed of the
greatest wealth of any nation in the world. It is just as easy
to have a National Theatre in this country as it is in France
or Germany. It is now some seven years since I attended a
very delightful function in the city of Chicago, and being called

A NATIONAL THEATRE 295

upon to make some remarks, and being totally unprepared, it
occurred to me to suggest the establishment of a National
Theatre. This suggestion was widely discussed, at that time,
by the press and immediately after forgotten. Since then
various eminent persons have stolen my thunder; but neither
my thunder nor their echo of it has cleared the air, and to-day
the stage of this country — as, indeed, of England — is in the
same unsatisfactory condition. And so we talk, and don't act.

We need a recognized Stage and a recognized School. America
has become too great and its influence abroad too large for
us to afford to have recourse to that ancient and easy method
of criticism which decries the American and extols the foreign.
That is one of the last remnants of colonialism and provincialism,
which must depart forever. . . .

It is very evident that any man, be he an actor or no actor,
can, with money and with good taste, make what is technically
termed a production. There is, as an absolute matter of fact,
no particular credit to be attached to the making of a pro-
duction. The real work of the stage — of the actor — does not
lie there. It is easy for us to busy ourselves, to pass pleasantly
our time designing lovely scenes, charming costumes and all
the paraphernalia and pomp of mimic grandeur, whether of
landscape or of architecture, the panoply of war, or the luxury
of royal courts. That is fun; pleasure and amusement. That
again comes under the head of Talking versus Acting. No,
the real work of the stage lies in the creation of a character.
A great character will live forever, when paint and canvas
and silks and satins and gold foil and tinsel shall have gone
the way of all rags. . . .

There is much at the present time which militates against
the education of the actor. It has become largely the custom
of theatrical companies to rely upon one play each season, or
for as long a period as any play will hold the public favor.
This means a few weeks of rehearsal and idleness the rest
of the time. A society play, for instance, is purchased in
London, a cast is engaged in New York in which each in-

296 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

dividual player peculiarly suits the character he or she has
to interpret. Repetitions take place under the eye of an
astute manager and the play is launched, and there is nothing
to be done by the actors. The business manager and especially
the press agent do the rest. Most of these plays that come to
us from London are disquisitions on social topics, social problems,
expositions of the author's peculiar views on matrimony or
pugilism or the relations of the sexes, or a searchlight into
a dark and reeking closet which nobody wants to examine.
In these plays, and plays of this class, it is only necessary
for the interpreter to speak the words, but there is no call
for great acting and the actor is simply floated for a while
upon the tide of the author's temporary notoriety. The actor
should sternly put away the temptation which may come to
him under the guise of financial success to produce plays which
pander to debased tastes, for though, for a brief spell, he
may hold the attention of the public, he will win neither respect
nor lasting reward and he will openly degrade an art which
should be devoted only to the beautiful. . . .

This world was beautiful until man made it ugly, and it
still remains beautiful to those who will seek its beauties. We
may at once confess that there are sewers and some bad sewers.
That is the truth. But because it is the truth there is no
need to exhibit them upon the stage. There are other means
of eradicating such evils. The stage is neither a police court
nor a hospital. Both are, unfortunately, necessary to man-
kind, but they are not necessary upon the stage. The loftiest
aim of the pulpit and the stage is to teach us to be better and
consequently happier, but neither a church congregation nor
a theatre audience is to be improved or should be asked to
endure the distressing details of brutal, vulgar, disgusting

In reply to a letter of congratulation, as to his
Lecture on the Theatre, he wrote:

A BLITHE SPIRIT 297

St. James Hotel, Philadelphia,

January 23, I906.
My Dear William Winter: —

I am glad to hear that you are disburdening yourself of some
of the loads you have been carrying. We all harness our-
selves to too many rickshaws. I've a whole string of
*em.

I don't think my lectures are likely to instruct anyone, but
my agent, Mr. Wilstach, seemed to think them desirable, and
I made the effort. Perhaps they are amusing. The boys
seemed to be entertained.

If I can recover part of Cyrano, in time, I shall
add it to my repertory in New York, and thus bring ten
plays.

A man called on me yesterday, at the Theatre, before the
play, and said he had been dispatched, by some Syndicate,
to offer me $100,000 a season, for three seasons, which I
promptly declined, and, before he left, he had worked himself
up to $200,000 a season!

But I think I shall make a farewell tour and retire, and
go into the steamship business, as I could then, probably, ride
about the world for nothing. I have also noticed that the
Irish whiskey, on the smaller steamers, is excellent and very
cheap !

I look forward to seeing you — and let us have some
fun!!!

Yours, always,

Richard.

To the end of his days, and notwithstanding
illness, care, perplexity, and trouble, JNIansfield main-
tained a blithe spirit and was, at times, heartily
propitious to frolic. The desire to cast away respon-
sibility, to seek adventure, to visit strange, unfre-

298 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

quented places, to do anything that would break the
monotony of life, — the apparently endless routine
of excitement, as he called it, — was frequently made
known to me, — as in this sportive proposition to
"have some fun." Also he possessed the faculty, —
one that it is not always prudent to use, — of play-
ful satire. The French comedian. Constant Coque-
lin, notably one of the most self-satisfied of men,
chanced to say to liim: "I must always have one
place, at least, in the course of every performance,
where I can go to sleep for a few moments." "You
are lucky," answered Mansfield, "if there is only
one place where your audience goes to sleep." His
playfulness could be quizzical as well as tart. Once,
when his business affairs were in disorder and law-
suits, brought by various actors, were pending
against him, he ruminantly remarked to me: " These
actors are strange persons! When they are idle,
and have nothing else to do, I believe they get
together and say: 'Let's all go and sue Mansfield!' "
Speaking of another occasion, when his scenery and
receipts had been attached, on a Saturday night, at
a theatre in a New England town, he said to me:
"My agent went running all over the place, scratch-
ing fellows on the wrist, to find a Free-Mason who
would stand surety for us." It sometimes pleased
him to practice on the credulity of the newspaper

Courtesy of Mr. Vivian Burnilt

RICHARD MANSFIKI-D, MRS. MANSF^IELD, AND GEORGE
GIBBS MANSFIELD

HIS HUMOR 299

"inter\aewer," and one consequence of that prankish
propensity was the pubhcation of various ridiculous
stories about him. Prior to his production of
"JuKus Csesar," for example, he imparted to an
"interviewer" the impression that he intended to
"double" the parts of Brutus and Ccesar, and a seri-
ous statement that such actually was his purpose
appeared in print. Once, on a Staten Island ferry-
boat, he was sitting near to a boy who wore a cap
with three feathers in it. The child carelessly took
off his cap, and, swinging it, knocked the feathers
out. The actor immediately picked them up and
gave them to the lad, saying, kindly : "When you are
a httle older, my boy, you will be more careful of
the feathers in your cap." The feathers in his own
cap were in some peril at that time, as he had recently
added to his heavy responsibilities the burden of
managing the Garrick Theatre. His sportive humor
is suggested (and words can only suggest a wag-
gish, demure, gay tone, look, and manner that can-
not be described) in the following letter, addressed
by him to his friend Walter P. Phillips, — whom to
name is to remember signal services to the science of
telegraphy and distinctive, illuminative, sometimes
touching sketches, written imder the pen-name of
John Oakum, relative to that science and to notable
exponents of it;

300 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

104 W. 80th Street, New York,

August 12, 1896.
My Dear Phillips: —

. . . My servant reports that there has been a paean of
"praise the Lord" that I have left the Club House. I do
not wonder. I was an inconvenience and an annoyance to
the servants. A more incompetent set of lying, lazy scoundrels
I have never encountered. The head-waiter is a capital fellow,
hard-working and most competent: the rest — the less said the
better.

The bar tender complains that I did not tip him, and curses me.

To George I only gave one dollar. Also he curses me. To
Ben I gave five. "Par consequence," my horse's shoes came
off after leaving the stable, and Ben was not to be found to
carry my luggage to the station.

The horse is here, at the Club Boarding stable, 211 West
76th Street. You can have him if you want him. He is a
good horse. I do not know how to thank you for all your
kindness, and, as some good always is born of evil, the pleasure
of your friendship came out of the American Yacht Club House.

Pray accept Dick, the horse, as a slight souvenir from your
very obliged friend,

Richard Mansfield.

Walter P. Phillips, Esq.

In some respects Mansfield remained a boy to the
end of his hfe. He was alike whimsical and mis-
chievous in his mirth. One evening, when at the
Yacht Club House, in company with Mr. Phillips,
he suddenly made a sportive proposition, quite
in the mood of a heedless boy: "Let us," he said,
"steal that brass cannon down there on the pier,
and go after those fellows at Larchmont. We'll

A MERRY TRICK 301

call on them to surrender, and, if they don't, we'll
fire off the cannon: and if that doesn't fetch 'em —
why, I'll go up on the bow and singT Pompous
affectation annoyed him. At Narragansett, one
summer, there was a particularly absurd specimen
of the self-sufficient ass, locally called "Mr. Dom-
bey." Mansfield, one afternoon, while swimming,
perceived that ridiculous person posing on the club
"float," and immediately was seized with an agoniz-
ing cramp wliich caused him, suddenly and fran-
tically, to grasp the edge of the float with such force
that, being very strong, he precipitated "Mr. Dom-
bey" into the sea; after which catastrophe the cramp
at once subsided. When acting Brutus he habitu-
ally made an error of emphasis in one line, — "All the
charactery of my sad brows," — placing the accent,
in the word "charactery," on the first syllable, and I
ventured to direct his attention to the fact that, in
this case, the accent should fall on the second syllable :
whereupon he wrote: "I am very proud of your
praise and thank you for it. I said charactery last
evening, and there was much commotion in the audi-
ence— two women screamed and a man fainted I"
Another example of his pleasantry was afforded,
on the occasion of a dinner party, at his dwelHng
in New York, when he resided in 80th Street. The
time was nearly summer and the weather sultry.

302 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

"Come," he gravely said; "let us all go and sit on
the steps of the house — they are stone and cool —
and have dinner served there — and send vi^ord to
*The Herald' that Mansfield's mannerisms have
broken out in a new place." He was in earnest,
for a moment, yet later he became obviously vexed
that any of his guests — all of whom were friends, —
should have thought him to be so.

Detroit, February 19, 1906.
My Dear Winter: —

... I have just received an invitation to attend a banquet
here, from the Board of Commerce, and to speak! Secretary
Taft and others are the guests ! As the banquet is at 8 o'clock,
and I play Don Carlos, I do not see how I can make the two
ends meet — but I wish I could go and talk a little about various
things: there would be trouble!

When I am in New York I hope you will try to spend some
evening with me.

Our business is wonderful. In Pittsburgh, against Mme.
Bernhardt, $17,000. In Cleveland, against Mrs. Fiske, $16,000.
Here the sale is very large. They want me to go to Paris,
in the spring of 1907. What do you think about it? I should
like to go — but they will rob me, of course. I should play
a repertory, and open with Ivan. Hein?

Always yours,

Richard.

X.

1906 TO 1907.

In the spring of 1906 he made known his inten-
tion of retiring from the stage, after three years
more of professional exertion. The clouds had begun
to gather. He was growing weary of the long
struggle, jaded in mind and body, and dissatisfied
with the result of his efforts. The successive deaths
of Jefferson and Irving, — the former on April 23,
the latter on October 13, 1905, — had elicited numer-
ous tributes, not only of admiration but of affec-
tion; and it seems not improbable that, pondering
on those past careers and on the eulogies of those
actors, when their ears were "stopped with dust,"
he reflected on the emptiness of fame, and surmised
that, perhaps, notwithstanding all liis earnest labor
in the cause of art, and all his ardent longing for
human sympathy, he had fallen short of the fulfil-
ment of his ambition and failed to win the public
heart. Some such feeling seems to glimmer through
these words, that he wrote to me, about that time, —
the settled despondency that caused him, not very
long afterward, under the desolate apprehension of

303

304 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

fatal illness, to say to his wife, "If it were not for
you and the boy, I should not care how soon it
ended."

I am working because it is preferable to being idle; but I
have very little to work for. I do not care for money, and
the recognition I hoped for is denied me. I shall keep on,
and do my duty as I see it — simply, honestly, and unaffectedly.
I think Irving's end was very enviable. It was best so, and
is always best so.

... As for the rest — nothing matters. Life is a farce —
an absurd farce, and the world is full of humbugs. As I say,
nothing at all matters — there is only Nature, and that is ever
beautiful. . . . Treat everything as a passing show — decide
upon being well and jolly and happy, and you will be! Let
us have some good times and be young again. Damme! Always
your old friend,

Richard.

Hotel Jefferson, St. Louis,

April 30, 1906.
My Dear Winter: —

I have been so tired, and ill, and nervous, that it has been
impossible for me to accomplish anything but the actual task
at night. The season in New York — the constant strain and
the sudden warm weather (in Cincinnati it was beyond descrip-
tion, dirty, muggy, heavy and enervating!), all had its effect
upon my spirits.

There seems to have sprung up a new-born antagonism that
is venting itself in all kinds of ways — Magazine articles; and,
in every review of the plays I present, my mannerisms, my
"this, that, and the other," are commented upon, and I begin
to doubt, and wonder whether I am the dreadful charlatan
they say I am.

HIS "LIFE" PROPOSED 305

I recently refused from the Messrs. Shubert a check for
$50,000, to sign a contract with them, for three years, to play
at their theatres. The fact is that one syndicate is as bad as
another, and as, now, I am absolutely independent, and free
to play when and wherever I please, I do not care to sell my
Liberty to these Jews — who would find some way of quarrelling
with me, and then sue me for the return of the fifty thou-
sand. . . .

Your beautiful souvenir of the N. Y. season reached me, at one
of the cities, and touched my heart. I do not know how to
thank you for it. I think I will have it printed — but I should
like you, if you can spare the time, to look up other articles
concerning me — written from the commencement of my career
in America, and if you would send them to me I will have them
all reproduced in one book.

Also I wonder if you would care to undertake a Biography?
It might interest some people, and much in my early life was
strange; it should prove entertaining.

A pity that you have to go to California. I would give you
a little cottage, all to yourself, at New London, where you
would be very comfortable and absolutely free: it contains a
sitting-room, bed-room, and bath-room, and it is surrounded by
flowers: there is a porch, with seats: the only time that you
would be disturbed would be when you joined our party at
meals. Think it over!

I think an entertaining book on the Life of R. M. from your
pen might sell well — I do not know; but I think so.

I am here for this week. Next week at the Grand Opera
House, Chicago, and then, please God — home to New London!
I am counting the minutes ! with love,

Your,

R. M.

In reply I told him that I had already planned
and begun to write the narrative of his life.

306 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

intending to make it a companion of my Biog-
raphies already published, of my old friends,
Edwin Booth and Joseph Jefferson. This is his
response :

415 Elm Street, Chicago,

May 17, 1906.
My Dear Winter: —

... I am tremendously excited about your writing the Life
of R. M. It is better than being knighted! But — there is so
much to tell — the early life abroad — I mean my childhood — the
years at Jena — the struggles in London, etc., etc., etc. This
can only be told, in the long evenings at home — I can't write
it: I can tell it to you, and you can paint it.

If I am alive next year I propose to invite you to go abroad
with me. We will travel over the ground together; foot for
foot: all the places I lived in, and was beaten and starved —
my grandfather's vineyard — he was the friend of poets — my
old Aunt, still living, — a Grand Lady; the school at Yver-
don: at Bourbourg; Derby — Oh, well, it will be great and
glorious ! —

But you must not work so hard. Next year you must go away
with me! If only, dear old fellow, you were coming to us
at New London, for the summer! You could have no painful
memories, in the rose cottage in which I would install you!
But you would have quiet and rest, and, I hope, complete
immunity from care.

I am greatly alarmed about the Pennsylvania R. R., in which
I have a very large sum of money invested. It looks as if
we were to have revelations there, too ! The great contempt
that fat, money-making business men have always manifested
for poor damned devils of writers, and artists generally, is
about to meet its Nemesis.

Whenever I play Shyloch I think of him as the wretched
artist and scribbler — snubbed, spat upon, and kicked; and An-

FINE PLAYS WANTED 307

tonio, the "smug" Antonio!, is all the fat, bald-headed, wheez-
ing, canting, Bank-Presidents, and Railroad Magnates, and
Oleomargarine Manufacturers I have encountered, during my
many years of dwelling in a cuspidor, boiled into one. You
can, therefore, imagine how anxious I always feel to slice rashers
off him!

I want to talk to you about my plans for next year. Some-
thing must be done. Since I have set the pace in repertory,

all the small fry have come tumbling after — and Mr.

is having full-lengths painted of himself as Hamlet (evidently
the Ghost has had an encounter with a polecat, for Hamlet
seems to notice a disagreeable odor), Shy lock (tonsorial), Mal-
volio, Romeo (after the most approved model), etc., etc., etc.,
I want something sweet and dear and lovely. No more Beasts !
But, no one writes anything! Everything is a pose and a
fad.

I leave here on Monday morning, and I shall be in Milwaukee
on the 22nd, and 23rd. On Sunday 27th, I shall, please God!
reach home — New London. Would it not be possible for you
to spend at least a week with me, there, before you go to
California?

Yours always,

Richard.

The time was now drawing near when all Mans-
field's toil was to be set at naught, when all his
ambitious striving and noble achievement was to
come to an end, not as he had dreamed and hoped,
in peaceful retirement from the active world, but in
one black fatality of disappointment, and in pro-
tracted suffering and premature death. The vic-
tory, indeed, had been gained, in so far as public
admiration can be called victory. Fame had been

308 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

established. Wealth had been accumulated. On
both sides of the Atlantic the name of Richard
Mansfield was known and honored. London was
open to him, had he chosen to revisit that capital.
He was asked to appear at the Theatre Sarah
Bernhardt, in Paris, and he was inclined to do so,
for, not unnaturally, the thought of a brilliant fare-
well season on the European stage would sometimes
come into his mind. He had, however, determined
that there should be a limit to his prodigious toil,
and he remained resolute in his determination. He
would begin the year 1910 as a private man, and
the Stage should see him no more. But the release
had been too long delayed and even the thought of
relief had come too late. In the summer and autumn
of 1906 the effects of sickness and weariness became
more and more evident in his conduct and in his
letters. He suffered much from dyspepsia and dis-
order of the liver, and his nervous system was com-
pletely shattered. The burdens imposed on him
were many and heavy, and his mind was continually
troubled with anxiety about the future. His let-
ters to me revealed an ever-deepening melancholy
and almost hourly fluctuations of feeling and changes
of plan. A sense of isolation and loneliness, long
familiar to him, seemed to color all his thoughts.
He brooded much upon the troubles of life, and,

A FATAL MISTAKE 309

at times, convinced himself that he was universally
misunderstood and disliked. The imperative neces-
sity of shaping a course for the new theatrical
season was ever present in his consciousness, to
agitate and perplex him. He had asked for my
counsel, — as for many years had been his custom, —
and I had given it; advising him to augment his
Shakespearean repertory by acting King John, or
by producing "Henry the Fourth" and then "The
Merry Wives of Windsor," and acting Falstaff.
No actor possessed of such a fine intellect and such
abundance of rich humor has attempted Falstaff on
our stage within the last fifty years. At first the
plan seemed to interest him, but he soon became
indifferent to it, and eventually rejected it. The
idea had become persuasive in his belief that prac-
tical success on the stage could be obtained only by
striking out a new path, by showing odd and strange
spectacles, and by being singular. It was essential
that liis new season should prove largely remunerative,
for he had assumed various exacting personal obli-
gations, had engaged a numerous and expensive
theatrical company, and had bound himself by con-
tract to act in various places and for various periods;
and, kno^ving that much money would be needed,
with which to fulfil all his promises and duties, he
reasoned that the safe course would be that of

310 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

extreme, emphatic eccentricity. It was a mistake,
and it proved a fatal one. The choice that he made,
probably under injudicious advisement, was that
of recourse to one of the most bizarre and weari-
some fads of the period, the lugubrious, murky,
tedious Henrik Ibsen, a writer with whose works,
according to his repeated assurance, he had little
or no sympathy. The play that he selected was
"Peer Gynt," — one of the least obnoxious of the
Norwegian dramatist's pessimistic ebullitions, but,
for the stage, a hopeless tangle of fantasy and
obscurity, such as he never would have chosen if
his mind had not been clouded by sickness and
morbid dejection, — and, having selected "Peer
Gynt," his next movement was to request me, very
earnestly, to "read it through, three times," and to
make a stage version of it, for his use. I was
anxious about him, and deeply desirous that he
should succeed, but I could not approve of his
project, and I declined association Avith it. The
Ibsen movement which, in America, began in 18 — ,
with the late Helena Modjeska's introduction of
"A Doll's House," under the name of "Thora,"
and which has purled along, ever since, in a sickly
and more or less obscure way, impressed me, from
the beginning, as unhealthful and injurious. The
province of art, and especially of dramatic art, is

VIEWS ABOUT IBSEN 311

beauty, not deformity; the need of the world is to
be cheered, not depressed ; and an author who avows,
as Ibsen did, that he goes down into the sewers, —
whatever be the purpose of his descent into those
insalubrious regions, — should be left to the enjoy-
ment of them. Each to his taste. The colloquies
written by Ibsen are, variously, mawkish, morose,
and tainted, and that author, proclaimed as an
artist in drama or a sound leader of thought,
is a grotesque absurdity. The letter that I wrote
to Mansfield on that occasion, together with his
reply, will serve to illustrate this subject and these
statements :

The Grange, New London,

August li, 1906.
My Dear Winter: —

... I have been trying to rest and also trying to find a
cure for the stubborn and chronic dyspepsia that is torturing
me — so far without success. Also, we have cast about in every
direction for something to do next season. In view of the
number of companies now presenting fifty cent Shakespeare,
we have had to abandon any idea in that direction, and the
old plays that were popular once are not for now. It has
to be something extraordinary; something new and quite out
of the common ! Where to find it .'' ! ! Also — I am not satisfied
or interested in ordinary things. . . .

I have finally decided upon "Peer Gynt." I know you do
not like Ibsen, and, in the main, I do not. But no man, no
poet of late years, has written anything quite as fine as "Peer
Gynt." The more I study it the more convinced I am that

312 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

it is a most remarkable work. Full of beautiful thought; full
of pathos and sorrow, — the eternal heritage of man, — in the
first acts. In the latter, satire, playful humor, and, finally,
great sadness. Will you read it, and re-read it, carefully and
thoughtfully? I am going to do it — if possible wonderfully. I
shall need your help. Can't you come to me here, at least
for a week? The place is so changed you will not remember
the Edwin Booth days at all, and you will be comfortable and
happy. I want to arrange the play with you. There is no one
but you to help me. Come .'' ! !

Your,

R. M.

Mentone, California,

August 19, 1906.
My Dear Mansfield: —

... I do not think that you should abandon Shakespeare
because other actors are trying to present his plays and are
not presenting them well. You could win another laurel with
King John or with Falstaff. However, it is, probably, useless
for me to descant on that subject.

As to Ibsen — I think you are possessed of my opinion. I
have read many of his plays, and I have seen several of them
on the stage. He was a man of talent, but narrow, morbid,
dismal, depressing, and sometimes nasty. He says nothing that
has not been better said by earlier and better writers. I cannot
conceive of any circumstances under which I would contribute
in any way, directly or indirectly, to aid or favor the Ibsen
movement. I am earnestly and deeply desirous to promote your
welfare and happiness, and as long as I am writing I shall
write thoughtfully, justly, and kindly about your acting; but
if you go into the Ibsen business you must go without me.
I will not touch "Peer Gynt" or anything else from Ibsen's
pen. . . .

Faithfully yours,

William Winter.

"HOBSON'S CHOICE" 313

The Grange, New London, Conn.

August 27, 1906.
My Dear Winter: —

I am in receipt of your letter. The reason I did not com-
municate with you was that I have been very ill again, with
nervous dyspepsia, and have suffered so keenly that I could
not write to any one or think reasonably of anything. I was
in great despondency and misery for weeks. I have two fami-
lies to support in America, and four families in Europe, and
I have to think very hard, and work very hard, to make the
necessary income. I do not expect or ask for any assistance
from any one. I am glad to be of service to my friends, and
all I ask is their friendship. I am generally alone, and I
have to do what seems most likely to support, becomingly,
those who are dependent on me.

There is a plethora of Shakespearean productions this year,
and there is a faddish, restless spirit in the air. Ordinary
things will not draw. I do not love Ibsen, — but something
novel and extraordinary has to be found. I propose playing
"Peer Gynt" in a spirit of travesty, and to present it as a
"phantasmagoria." I shall leave it to the people to find out
the fun. At present there is nothing else in sight. I may,
however, find something. I would, of course, prefer Jonson,
or Beaumont and Fletcher. These are hard times for us, and
in doing "Peer Gynt" I am simply, — as I did in "Cyrano," —
working for the sinews of war, in order to accomplish other
and better things. Also I want to hoist the Ibsen craze with
its own petard. If "Peer Gynt" doesn't do it, nothing will!
Mrs. Mansfield is absolutely adamant about Falstaff, and will
not countenance it.

There is hardly a play, — a great play, — that has not some
objectionable features. Of course, everybody is weary to death
of the Third, Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Mrs. Tanqueray and
the connubial noodle, and you can't very well write a play on
any historical subject without running against some dirt, whether
it be Louis XIV., or Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI., or

314 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

Charles I., or Charles II., or Henry VIII. ; and you can't present
the plays of Shakespeare without getting into trouble. When,
for instance, I read your advice concerning Falstaff to my wife,
she said to me: "If you ever appear as that disgusting old man,
and speak those horrid lines, I will never look at you again!"
But what's the use of talking?

In King John there is nothing for me, and the whole summer
I have worried and thought — but can find naught. My com-
pany is enormous. My contracts are signed. I have to play
five weeks in Chicago, commencing the last day in October.
We closed there late in the spring, with the repertory. I have
a charming play, on "L'Ami Fritz," by Erckmann-Chatrian,
that I shall do later, but it would not fill the house for five
weeks.

Last season "Don Carlos" only drew for a night or two;
Moliere in Boston one performance, only half a house ! I am
forced to do odd and extraordinary stuff, to keep the pot
boiling. No one is writing anything. There is not a Dramatic
Author in sight! No one comes near me. I am entirely alone.
Every manager and actor in the country is ready to cut my
throat. If my receipts decline I am lost. I am forced to fight
with the weapons I can find.

I am sorry to offend you, or to do anything to lessen or
impair our long friendship, and that is why I write at length,
so that you may understand my position. I am trying to sell
the property here and in New York, and to buy a little place
in England, and retire from a conflict that becomes more and
more hopeless. I have worked so hard that I have practically
destroyed my nervous force, and I cannot recuperate or get
completely well, under the constant strain. God bless you. I
know how hard you are working, but I feel you do not quite
comprehend how deeply and sincerely I sympathize with you.
In fact, I do not suppose anybody realizes how much I long for
that friendship and affection and regard which is denied me.

Yours as always,

Richard Mansfield.

"THE PAPERS" 315

That letter, obviously the emanation of a care-
worn mind, was soon followed by another, still more
expressive of perplexity and dejection, and, only
because I had, by reason of sudden, imperative pro-
fessional duty, been compelled to break an engage-
ment to dine with him, bidding me "a long farewell"
and conveying the assurance that I should never
hear from him again.

"I think," he added, "perhaps you may be under the im-
pression that I care what the papers say about me. I do not.
I very rarely read them, and as they have consistently abused
me, for many years, whenever there was the slightest oppor-
tunity, I have long ago ceased to bother my head about them. • . .
I am for an island and solitude, and I do not care two pennies
about the Stage or the Drama — I'm utterly sick of it. As for
Friendship, it seems no longer to exist."

As I had always counselled liim not to read news-
paper articles about liis acting or himself I was
under no impression that he ought to be solicitous
as to those publications, and should have been very
glad to believe the assurance that he had ceased
to regard them. Once I sent to him a motto
which I had read, graved in the stone over an old
English fireplace: "They have said and they will
say: Let them be saying!" But, customarily, he
worried about newspaper commentaries, — although,
in latter years, his devoted wife ^\isely and
firmly protested against his reading them and,

316 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

as far as possible, kept such screeds from his
knowledge.

I knew and valued Mansfield far too well to
take offence at his whims, and a line of friendly
explanation immediately elicited a letter as affec-
tionate as its predecessor had been splenetic. We
soon met, his purposed venture with the Ibsen
Drama was discussed, and, finding him committed
to that experiment, from which I would gladly have
dissuaded him, all was said that could be said to
cheer him. Seldom has there been, in public life,
a being so sensitive to opinion, so susceptible of
being pained, or to whom encouragement was so
vitally essential, and seldom has there been a being
who veiled liis sensibihty under such an austere
guise of cold indifference.

On October 29, 1906, at the Grand Opera House,
Chicago, Mansfield began his last theatrical season,
producing the play of "Peer Gynt," which then had
its first representation in America. As a curiosity
it was received with attention, and as the venture
of an admirable and much-admired actor it was
viewed with kindness and recorded with respect; but
it soon languished and, before leaving Chicago, he
was constrained to re-enforce it with his repertory.
The effort to act Peer Gynt in such a way as to
make the part effective had, meanwliile, depleted

"A SOP TO CERBERUS" 317

his strength, and he became so ill that he was obliged
to take a recess and come home for a week of rest.
He ceased acting, February 16, at Philadelphia,
and came to New York.

316 Riverside Drive, New York,

February 18, 1907.
My Dear Winter: —

. . . This will be my one and only Ibsen venture, and I
have no intention of going any farther in that direction. . . .
The greater part of it is good, — written when Ibsen was less
Ibsen than he became later. When we meet, which I hope may
be soon, I would like to talk things over with you and discuss
what had best be done; in the meanwhile, I have presented this
"sop to Cerberus," and I have sugar-coated it and put laughing
gas into it, so that the operation may be painless.

The very unfortunate part of the actor's work is that he
must make people come and see him act; if they don't come,
it's no use acting: and every year, that more and more difficult
question confronts me.

I don't like Sardou: I don't think that Irving did, but he
actually produced "Mme. Sans-Gene." That was his sop to
Cerberus, eh ? It was the same old story — and it is !

"O, for a play!"
I don't like Ibsen — but I think "Peer Gynt" is better than
"Mme. Sans-Gene."

I have an important offer, very. I shall want to talk to
you about it. When will you be here? Sunday? My love
to you all !

I shall be happy when this season is over. The work is too
hard:

O, for a cottage,
A cottage for me !
Embowered in roses.
And fanned by the sea!

318 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

A little thing of my own ! Come soon, and see what remains of
your friend IViUcins.

Yours as ever,

Richard Mansfield.

On February 25, at the New Amsterdam Theatre,
he began, in New York, the engagement that was
to prove his last. It covered a period of four
weeks. The opening play was "Peer Gynt," to
which a chapter is devoted in the second volume of
this biography. That play was performed for three
weeks, after which time Mansfield heeded his doc-
tor's warning, and changed the bill. Later he was
seen as Dimmesdale, Brummell, Chevrial, and Jekyll
and Hyde, At this time I had commended to his
attention a short play, of remarkable power, called
"The Goal," by that fine dramatist, Henry Arthur
Jones, — tliinking it might, perhaps, be obtained for
his use, and made practicable in association with a
light comedy. To this suggestion he answered:

SI 6 Riverside Drive, New York,

March 8, 1907.
Dear Old Friend: —

I have been greatly depressed and very wretched, but I am
better to-day. The strain of playing Peer Gynt was too great.
I am returning you the little play of Jones's, because I never
produce one act plays, for the reason that no one ever comes
to see them, and they necessitate the doing of two other plays
on the same evening.

HIS LAST LETTER 319

When we meet I hope to tell you of my plans, i must make
some money and get out. I see that actors with a small play
and a small cast can make a million: I must try it. We, alas,
are comparatively poor, and if we had to live, to-morrow, on
what we have, our income would be very small.

Try to come next Sunday. I will send the motor to meet
you, if you like. By the way, B. would not allow me to read
the reviews of "Peer," but now I have seen your article: it was
as generous and as kindly as you could make it, holding the views
you do (with which, entre nous, I agree, but B., and others do
not). No more Ibsen! Still, of course, since I have made the
venture, I wanted it to be successful.

Yours as ever,

R. M;

A little later, and while the Ibsen play was still
current (it was withdrawn on March 16), he wrote
the following letter, — the last piece of writing that
I ever received from him, and inexpressibly precious
to me, as a token that his esteem and affection had
survived every trial, and that I had only done liim
justice in always telling him what I believed to be
the truth.

316 Riverside Drive, New York.
My Dear Old Friend: —

You are ever true, and, as B. said this morning, "the only
man with the courage of his opinions !" Thank God for You !
I do hope we shall see you on Sunday, and we will confer ! Is
there anything in the world I can do for You?

As always,

R. M.

320 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

At the time when Mansfield produced "Peer
Gynt" he was favored with some newspaper cen-
sure, on the ground that he had "desecrated" Ibsen,
by omitting portions of that writer's "Poem." There
is no desecration involved in the rejection of non-
sense, and the fact is that the actor retained, in his
stage-version of "Peer Gynt," every shred of the
original that could be made effective in a theatrical
performance, as well as much that could not. The
scenes that pass in a mad-house were discarded, but
as many auditors, on hearing the play, felt that
they had strayed into one, those "poetic" gems could
not have been seriously missed. Mansfield did every-
thing that zeal could prompt or ingenuity and labor
accomplish to exploit a radically undramatic and
dismally obscure composition, and he bore, in the
manifestation of it, one of the heaviest burdens ever
assimied by an actor. There is, in the writings of
Ibsen, an intellectual value that is perfectly well
known and has been clearly designated. He is a
didactic writer, who announces that human nature is
vile and human society corrupt. But his composi-
tions are not dramatic, and, even if they were, they
would not be desirable on the stage, because their
teaching is, in general, false, they are often offensive
to good taste, and they are wearisome and depress-
ing. It was unfortunate for Mansfield that he was

LAST PERFORMANCE 321

ever persuaded to resort to the Ibsen fad. He con-
sidered, however, that it was "in the air." Per-
sons in London calhng themselves "Souls" had
propagated it, and persons in New York and Boston,
imitative of those "Souls," had imported it; and so
he felt that it must be tried. Hence his production
of "Peer Gynt." In the hght of what is now
known we know that he was already doomed: but
there can be no doubt that the tremendous effort
which he made to vitalize the part of Peer Gynt,
to make it natural, intelligible, and dramatically
effective, and thus to interest and hold the public
and to win a splendid success, accelerated the
progress of his disease and precipitated the catas-
trophe of his death.

The last days of Mansfield were inexpressibly
afflicting and sorrowful. On March 23, at an after-
noon performance, he acted Peer Gynt, and in the
evening of that day he acted Baron Chevrial. In
both performances it was evident that he was suf-
fering, and when, after the death-scene of Cheviial,
he came before the curtain, responding to a tumultu-
ous call for a speech, he was so weak that he could
hardly stand. His voice faltered, but he made a
brave effort and spoke very earnestly and sweetly,
thanking the audience and the general public for
kindness, alluding to certain aspersions which had

322 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

been cast upon him in some of the local news-
papers, and expressing regret that evil should have
been spoken of him, and that it should have been
credited only because it had been spoken. Those
were the last words he ever said upon the stage.
For a moment he gazed upon the multitude then
standing before him, — for the house had risen, —
bowed slightly, the expression of his countenance
being very sad, and slowly withdrew. On the next
day, March 24, he went to Scranton, Pa., where
he was to act on the night of March 25, but his
sickness increased and the physician called to attend
him forbade him to appear. He expected to act
on the next evening, but was not able to do so,
and he was then immediately brought back to New
York, and all liis theatrical engagements were pres-
ently cancelled, it being clearly manifest that he
could not fulfil them. During several weeks he
remained in his house, 316 Riverside Drive, under
medical care. His condition underwent many
changes; his suffering at times was great; but slowly
he gained a little strength. He had for some time
been determined on a journey to England. His
passage was engaged for May 4, but he was not
able to sail. I saw him on the morning of May 11.
"I told them I would see you, Willy," he said,
"even if I were dying." We sat together for some

-M

Photograph hy I'urli liros.

RICHARD MANSFIELD

At His Home, 316 Rli'crnide Drive, Xew York

OUR PARTING 323

time. He did not speak much, nor could I speak
much to liim. It seemed best that we should both
pretend to believe that he would soon be well, but
I knew that I should never see him again. When
he did speak it was httle more than a murmured
word or two. His mind was busy ^vith the past.
Several times he mentioned Jefferson and his paint-
ings. "Studies in green they are," he said. Once
he spoke aloud to himself: "I have not lived a bad
life." Presently I rose to go and clasped his hand
and said good-by. At the door I turned to look at
him once more. He was sitting huddled in his chair;
his figure was much emaciated; his clothes hung
loosely about him; his face was pale and very
wretched in expression, and I saw, in his eyes, as
he looked at me, that he knew our parting was
forever. I went back and kissed his forehead and
pressed his hand and so came away. We never met
again. Since then I have stood beside his grave.
Life seems to be chiefly made up of farewells like
that and memories like these.

On May 12, aboard the Minneapolis, he sailed
for London. When ill he had always wished to be
alone, if possible, and it had been arranged, at his
positive insistence, that Mrs. Mansfield and their
son should follow him aboard a steamer sailing a
week later. He was accompanied by two attendants.

324 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

On arriving in England he went to Brighton,
with his elder brother, Felix. There, within a few
days, he was joined by his wife and boy. A httle
later he was moved to a pleasant country house,
Moonhill, Cuckfield, in the lovely county of Sussex.
He had hoped for benefit to liis health, from the
Atlantic voyage and from the restful influence of
the English rural environment, which he loved, but
the hope was bitterly disappointed. The weather
was coarse and chill, and he grew steadily worse.
His condition was, indeed, wretched, and, looking
back to that time, it now seems probable that his
physicians only acceded to his desire to go abroad
because they knew that, whether abroad or at home,
he was beyond the reach of mortal aid. To a friend
who visited him at Moonhill he said that "all had
been done that was possible" and he knew the end
was inevitable. He now insisted on an immediate
return to America, and in July he sailed, aboard
the Virginia, with Mrs. Mansfield and their boy and
his brother Felix. On July 26 they landed at Mon-
treal, from which city he was conveyed, by special
train, to Ampersand, Lake Saranac, where he
remained for a short time, pending the completion
of alterations in a house called "Seven Acres," one
of the three houses which he owned, in Ocean Ave-

DEATH 825

nue, New London, Conn. His favorite residence
there was "The Grange," where "he had everything
as he wanted it," but that house, unfortunately,
had been leased. "Seven Acres," being empty, had
been converted from a farmhouse into a cosy, ram-
bhng, cheerful dwelling, and it pleased him much.
In that cottage he was installed on August 22.
On his arrival there he appeared to rally a little, —
the flame of life leaping up, as it sometimes will,
before it is extinguished, — but his endurance was
almost at an end. His immediate death, however,
was not expected by his family. In the early hours
of Friday, August 30, there came a change. lie
was alone, except for a nurse, who presently came
to Mrs. Mansfield, who was waiting at his bed-
room door. "His pulse is very weak," the nurse
said. His wife went to him, took his hand, and
knelt beside him, repeating the words "God is life."
He was conscious and knew her; presently he drew
her toward him and kissed her, and, as he lay back,
he smiled. "God is life," she whispered. "God is
love," he said, very slowlj'', and with those words
upon liis lips he sank into a lethargy and knew no
more. The end was long in coming, but the real
end came as he spoke. At forty minutes past six
o'clock he ceased to breathe. He was in the fifty-
fourth year of his age.

326 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

The funeral and burial of JNIansfield occurred on
INIonday, September 2, at noon. He had requested
that the ceremony should be simple, and his wish
was fulfilled. The Episcopal ser\dce for the burial
of the dead was read by the rector of St. James's
Church, New London, Rev. Dr. Alfred Pool Grant,
who also dehvered a brief eulogy of the deceased
actor. Those rites were performed in the house of
"Seven Acres," in the room that had been destined
as Mansfield's study. The day was one of storm,
and a heavy rain was falling when the funeral pro-
cession moved from the house to the cemetery. The
body, in a plain black coffin, was borne by eight
persons, members of the police of New London.
The nominal pall-bearers, w^ho walked beliind the
coffin, were Commodore John Parker, U.S.N.,
Colonel A. C. Tyler, Mr. Benjamin L. Stevens,
Mr. Paul Wilstach, Mr. Robert Appleton, Mr.
Rutger Jewett, Dr. William Appleton, and Mr.
Roland P. Keasby. The widow and Felix Mans-
field, brother of the deceased, followed the bearers,
and were in turn followed by other mourners. The
committal ser^ace was read at the grave, Newman's
hymn, "Lead, Kindly Light," was sung, by a quar-
tette, and the coffin was lowered into a steel vault.
All persons then left the cemetery, except INIrs.
Mansfield, who remained for some time, kneeling.

SUIMJMARY 327

in prayer, beside the open vault, which had been
heavily hned with hemlock boughs and many-colored
hydrangeas. The vault was then sealed and covered
with earth and sods. The grave of INIansfield is in
a secluded corner of a little cemetery situated
almost opposite to the house in which he died, and
visible from it. Hedges of evergreen encompass the
square of earth in which his ashes rest, and over it
the sea-breeze whispers in the trees, and round it all
is peace.

Mansfield was conscious of the possession of great
natural powers. He loved everj^ form of Art.
He worshipped Beauty. He longed to express
himself. He earnestly desired to win eminence and
to exercise a beneficial influence upon society.
Looking abroad upon the community he saw that
distinction, wealth, and power were possessed by
many persons of inferior ability, and he resented
that injustice and became intolerant of it. He did
not know, or he did not consider, — as, for his good,
he might have done, — that mediocrity is often more
immediately and largely prosperous than genius is,
because, hy the multitude, it is more easily under-
stood. In liis professional life he continually
observed the proceedings of other actors, and he

328 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

was troubled by those proceedings and irritated
by the pubhc recognition accorded to them. He
also allowed himself to be annoyed by the frivolous
prattle of newspapers. He lacked entire self-
possession. That was a weakness of his character,
from which, and from latent disease, ensued the
aberrations of his conduct, his irritability, his jeal-
ousies, his flurries of anger, his petulant outbreaks
of speech, and his morbid fancies as to the defection
of friends and the hostility of the world. If only
he could have ceased to worry about the doings and
sayings of others, he would have escaped much suf-
fering. Often, in my intimate observance of him,
I had reason to regret, — and more than once I told
him so, — that he would not, or could not, feel and
exempHfy the truth of the thought contained in
Arnold's hues:

And with joy the stars perform their shining,
And the sea its long, moon-silver'd roll;

For self-poised they live, nor pine with noting
All the fever of some differing soul.

The propensity to fret because artistic competitors
are popular has shown itself in the hves of many
actors. Garrick seems to have been acutely sensi-
tive on that point. Cooke, speaking of Kemble,
signified that he would "make Black Jack tremble

VARIOUS OPINIONS 329

in his boots!" Macready loved "no brother near
the throne." When Charles Kean lost a jewel,
which had been given to him by Queen Victoria,
Douglas Jerrold significantly remarked that he
would find it "sticking in Macready's crop." The
jealous animosity of Edwin Forrest toward Ma-
cready is well remembered. Aside from professional
rivalry, — or, perhaps, because of it, and of con-
sequent inability to see clearly and judge fairly, —
actors seldom form judicious views of each other.
E. L. Davenport, a giant in his day, thought that
Edwin Booth was a "divine", reader of Hamlet,
but not a great actor. Edwin Booth did not very
highly esteem Jefferson's selection of Rip Van
Winkle, — so he said to me; and of John S.
Clarke, his brother-in-law, whom he greatly liked,
and who was a superb eccentric comedian, he said:
"Clarke is exceedingly amusing in private life, but,
to me, not at all so on the stage." Henry Irving,
who admired Jefferson more than he did any other
American actor, declared Jefferson's embodiment of
Acres to be his best performance, and superior to
that of Rip Van Winkle, — wliich certainly it was
not, for the reason that Rip had imagination and
poetry in it, while Acres was made up exclusively of
character and humor; and, although the felicity of
dramatic expression was superb in Acres, it was

330 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

transcended by that of Bip. Lester Wallack, next
to Charles Mathews, the best light comedian of the
period immediately succeeding that of Charles Kem-
ble and James E. Murdoch, could not perceive excep-
tional merit in the acting of Jefferson, for in con-
versation with me he lightly dismissed him as a man
with a "funny little squeaky voice." Edwin Booth
said to me that Irving's impersonation of Louis the
Eleventh was decidedly inferior to the performance of
the same part by Charles Kean, — an actor of remark-
able abihty, but one who, whether in Louis or in any
other character, and I saw him in that and in
many, neither rose to the intellectual height of
Irving nor rivalled him in the faculty of dramatic
expression; and of Irving's performance of Mathias,
in "The Bells," which Booth saw before I did, the
most he could tell me was that it had "a lot of red
silk pocket-handkercliief in it." Irving, much as he
esteemed Edwin Booth as a man, considered him to
be more an elocutionist than an actor, — meaning an
impersonator: "he is a magnificent reader," said
Irving. Jefferson, who seldom allowed himself to
be disturbed by the renown of rival actors, neverthe-
less thought and said that he could have excelled
Irving in the part of Doctor Primrose, in Wills's
lovely play of "Olivia," whereas, in fact, he could
not have approached him, for in that part, as

Courtesy of Mr. Vivinii Hunirtt

RICHARD MANSFIELD IN 1906

ACTORS AS CRITICS 331

in Mathias, Mephistoplieles, Lesurques, Dubosc,
Becket, and Charles the First, Irving was unique
and perfect. But Jefferson, whose knowledge of the
art of acting was comprehensive, minute, and
extraordinary, sometimes spoke from impulse rather
than from judgment. "All Irving's performances,"
he once said, "are exactly alike, and show exactly
the same man;" and then, almost immediately, he
added, referring to Irving's acting in "The Lyons
Mail," "not even a child could possibly mistake the
one man, Dubosc, for the other, Lesurques"! Still
another of his pronouncements was that the per-
formance of Mephistopheles by Edouard de Reszke,
in the opera of "Faust," was vastly better than
that of Irving, in Wills's drama. De Reszke,
in fact, presented Mephistopheles as a fat, rubi-
cund, jovial roisterer, whereas Irving acted Iiim as
a Spirit, the incarnation of intellectual pride,
scorn, and grimly humorous denial and mockery,
sardonic and terrible. Mansfield's views of other
actors were equally capricious. It would be a sad
day for the players if their performances were to
be criticised in the press by their brethren of the
dramatic profession.

Mansfield has been described, by various per-
formers vAth whom, professionally, he came into
contact, sometimes as affable and kind, sometimes

332 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

as unreasonable, tyrannical, and offensive. That
testimony, both ways, is authentic. He could be,
and often he was, genial, sympathetic, considerate,
and benign. He also could be, and sometimes he
was, ungracious, sarcastic, bitter, and rude. The
son of Erminia Rudersdorff could hardly have been
anything but capricious; and it should also be
remembered that Mansfield, although a man of
robust physique, was not in perfect health, that he
often suffered from distressing nervous illness, that
much of his life was passed under an exceptionally
severe strain of anxiety and responsibility, and that
his patience was often severely tried by ingratitude,
injustice, malice, and misrepresentation. In ill-
tempered moods he was injudicious, and the vagaries
of his conduct and speech furnished weapons with
which resentment or detraction could, and did, strike.
But there was a charming side to his character.
He was an affectionate friend, a delightful com-
panion, and in the abodes of want and sorrow he
was the soul of generosity and cheer.

A man of complex and original character and
genius is seldom understood and deeply appreciated
by many persons, even though he be admired and
followed. Originality perplexes conventional percep-
tion and thus sometimes causes antagonism. Genius
is often eccentric and its eccentricity often mani-

CONFLICT 333

fests itself in capricious conduct. Mansfield, under
the most favorable circumstances, might have proved
a little trying to the average mind: under adverse
circumstances he necessarily became a disturbing
influence. His bitter experience in youth, when he
was almost destitute and was struggling for a mere
subsistence, had made him resentful and combative,
and when, after a long period of toil, vicissitude,
hope deferred, and restless endurance, he became,
to some extent, a dictator of fortune, his strong
propensity to self-assertion, his arbitrary insist-
ence on command and conquest, was naturally the
cause of opposition and strife. Along almost the
whole line of his career there was conflict. Attacks
were frequent and so were rejoinders. Sarcasms
about actors, newspapers, writers, and audiences fell
from his hps and ebullitions of banter came from
his pen. Press wrangles and lawsuits attended him.
But, whatever the tumult, or whatever might be
the cause of it, he was alwaj^^s interesting. His
activity was incessant. His enterprise, — neither
timid before rivalry nor hesitant before adventure,
eager for the production of new plays and expedi-
tious in travel, — was courageous even to audacity.
His ambition was never satisfied. No sooner had
he accomplished one task than his resolute will
enjoined another. "Life is too short to waste," he

834. LIFE OF MANSFIELD

said to me; "I must move onward and upward."
He wrought in divers fields. As a composer of
music he produced melodies as tenderly expressive
as some of the sweetest that are wedded to the
incomparable songs of Moore. As a writer, although
in the literary realm his pretensions were very
modest, he used a piquant style with force and
grace, depicting character in the tints of nature and
evincing decided felicity of dramatic expression:
much that is terse, pointed, and significant, in vari-
ous plays with which his name is publicly asso-
ciated only as that of a player, in fact proceeded
from his pen. As a mimic he was extraordinary.
Had he chosen to do so he could have had a con-
spicuous career as a singer. As an actor, passing
gracefully and ably from musical farce to serio-
comic drama and from romance to tragedy, he
displayed artistic faculties and resources seldom
exemplified in all the long history of the dramatic
art. Much though he did, there was more that he
might have done. His jovial humor was so potent,
so various, and so rich that if he had assumed the
part of Falstaff, as I often earnestly urged him to
do, he would, I believe, have surpassed all per-
sonations of it that the stage has exhibited in our
time. But, qualifications and conjectures set aside,
Mansfield was a great actor, he had a great career.

INITIATIVE 335

and the community is indebted to liim for perma-
nent intellectual benefit.

Throughout that career he conspicuously dis-
played the faculty of initiative, the faculty of choos-
ing new subjects and making new appKcations of
old ideas. He reverted to Samuel Warren's once
famous novel of "Ten Thousand a Year," and he
made Titmouse a practical stage figure. He recog-
nized George Bernard Shaw as a dramatic writer,
producing the best plays that have been made by
that erratic, sophistical, mischievous satirist, — "Arms
and the Man" and "The Devil's Disciple." He
prompted the making of a play on that gossamer,
romantic novel, "The First VioUn." He caused a
drama to be made on the theme of Stevenson's story
of dual hfe, "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," and he was
the first to put those contrasted characters on the
stage. He transformed "Prince Karl" from a poor
melodrama into an excellent farce, and, by a per-
formance of exquisite charm, he made that trifle a
source of much innocent pleasure. He suggested
and inspired a drama on the subject of the last days
of the Roman emperor Nero. He imparted a fas-
cinating bodily form to the fanciful, romantic con-
ception of Beaucaire. He vitalized, in English, the
quaint half -merry, half -sad German play of "Alt
Heidelberg." He reanimated for stage exhibition

336 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

the imperial image of Napoleon Bonaparte. He
succeeded in winning considerable favor for "The
Scarlet Letter," a story that had not before been
made theatrically effective. He added to the stage
pantheon the grim figure and the tremendous
character of the Russian despot, Ivan, the Ter-
rible. He revived Moliere's "Misanthrope," in
English, — setting an example that, eventually, per-
haps, will enrich the English-speaking stage with
a series of the classics of the hterature of France.
He reanimated Schiller's "Don Carlos," a respected
tragedy, long dead to the theatre; and, in his
elaborate productions of "Richard III.," "The Mer-
chant of Venice," "Henry V.," and "JuHus Caesar,"
he reminded a younger generation that artistic
results can be obtained from conscientious present-
ment of the massive works of Shakespeare. One of
his practical and valuable services to the stage and
society was the restoration of the custom of having
a varied repertory, instead of depending upon one
or two parts. That custom he adopted, enforced,
and justified, at a time when other dominant
theatrical managers were opposed to it and allied
against it. Thus his career, while it was one of
prodigious labor and of much trial and vicissitude,
was one also of varied enterprise, striking novelty,
and intrepid and brilliant exploit. Sometimes, how-

REFUGE OF ART 337

ever, his courage faltered and his spirit drooped.
Once he announced his intention to retire from the
stage at the end of three years; but he did not
Hve to fulfil that intention, and, in any event, he,
probably, vrould not have fulfilled it. The workers,
the persons, — always few, — who do the vitally im-
portant work of the world, often feel that their task
has been done and that their day is over, and often
they long for release. It was so with the great
novelist Thackeray, who spoke of his work as
finished, even before he had written the superb novel
of "The Newcomes." It was so with the great
actress Charlotte Cushman, who several times took
leave of the stage, and as often returned to it.
Mansfield's originality of mind and poetry of tem-
perament, combined with his affluent, restless vitality,
would always have held him in the realm of art. No
other realm, indeed, exists in which there is refuge
for a noble soul and a sensitive heart. In all other
realms there is the continual tumult of the raving
world, and even in the refuge of art the voice of
contention and detraction can, and frequently does,
make itself heard. Still, come what may, there is no
other haven; and, as said by one of the wisest of
poets :

He only lives with the world's life.
Who hath renounced his own.

338 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

A man of positive character usually inspires
enmity, and a successful man, no matter what his
vocation, awakens envy and malice. Richard Mans-
field was both positive and successful, and therefore
detraction often snarled at liis heels. Once, when he
was recovering from a dangerous, nearly fatal attack
of typhoid fever, he received an anonymous letter,
coarsely and grossly expressive of its writer's ani-
mosity and of a hvely regret that the actor had
not died. There is, unhappily, a depraved order of
mind, capable of atrocity like that, — serving to show
how contemptible it is possible for human nature to
be, and what essential need there is of a charitable
and humorous view of Hfe. Lord Tennyson, in liis
memoir of his father, mentions that, during a period
of forty-two years, the great poet, whenever he pub-
lished a new poem, received an anonymous letter,
always in the same hand, filled with abuse of his
poetry. In "The School for Scandal" bluff Sir
Oliver Surface wisely and tersely declares that the
man who has no enemies is the man who has bowed
as low to knaves and fools as to honest dignity of
genius and virtue. Mansfield had enemies, some of
whom he gained by reason of his intellectual supe-
riority, some of whom he gained by his undis-
guised, natural, and proper contempt, and some of
whom he gained because of Ms occasional arro-

DETRACTION 339

gance. Accordingly he was, from time to time,
harshly censured, in print, and also he was sedu-
lously, foolishly, unjustly, and sometimes brutally
slandered. It is a shocking but indisputable fact
that the multitude is ever more ready to believe evil
than good of any distinguished person, and it is
true, as said by the poet Alexander Smith, that

The stain of mire
Sits more conspicuous on the captain's mail
Than on the scarred and dinted man-at-arms.

Many false, idle, injurious tales about Mansfield
were circulated in newspapers, by the contemptible
purveyors of what Lord Beaconsfield aptly desig-
nated "the hare-brained chatter of irresponsible
frivolity," and they were often and widely credited.
Nervous and impetuous Mansfield was, and at times
impolitic and free of speech, loosing, it might be, the
shafts of righteous indignation, or it might be the
barbs of bitter sarcasm. He was hostile to injustice
and to "the oppressor's wrong," for he had known
them and suffered under the blight of them, and
he was intolerant of dulness and convention. The
poet Heine declared that even the clouds, when they
happen to drift over the city of Hamburg, the
moment they look down at its soulless, deadly regu-
larity of huckstering commonplace and routine,
make haste to fly from it. Byron noticed that "quiet

340 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

to quick bosoms is a hell." I knew Richard Mans-
field for about a quarter of a century; I saw him
in many moods and under many and various circum-
stances; I became acquainted, at first hand, equally
with his faults and his merits; and I desire earnestly
to testify, without intending to gloss his infirmities,
that he was, intrinsically, a good man. In fight-
ing,— sometimes through poverty and sickness, — the
hard fight that genius always has to wage against
a purse-proud society, entrenched within its ram-
parts of wealth and privilege, he developed a sporadic
tendency to harsh, imperious manners. Further-
more, when dubious as to recognition of his achieve-
ment and well-earned rank, he sometimes became
distrustful of everybody. Ajaoo, in the pathetic
tragedy that Sophocles wrote about him, sagely
remarks that few persons reach the port of friend-
ship and therein find rest. At all times Mans-
field was of a mercurial temper, and in some moods
he fell into deep dejection, undervalued his powers
and acliievements, firmly persuaded himself that he
had done no sort of justice to liis profession or
his opportunity, and lapsed into a lethargy of
morose resentment of all praise and a bitter unbe-
lief in all human affection. But time and experience
taught him the need of patience and self-dependence,
and his later living and acting evinced a decided

THE RIGHT ROAD 341

advancement in the repose of conscious power.
Victory had been gained. The direction in which,
at the last, he was moving, as to intellectual and
spiritual development, was the right one. He
longed, and often asked, for sweet and gentle plays.
He wished to illustrate subjects that are beautiful;
to be the interpreter of that dramatic poetry which
allures by its enticing glamour; to wield the assured
power that is decisively effective because unsolicitous
of effect; and, with the intuitive perception that
sees human life as a whole, to invest massive and
splendid ideals with the magic of careless grace.

To sordid, commonplace minds it is a satisfactory
behef that the theatre is merely a shop, and that the
art of acting is merely a means for the pursuit of
gain. Such minds are numerous, and in the business
world they are usually predominant; and, under the
perverting control of such minds, the stage has
known periods of sad degradation. At intervals,
however, strong spirits have arisen in the drama, to
vindicate its intrinsic intellectual worth and moral
potentiality, to assert its educational drift, and to
exalt and extend its social influence. A noble per-
sonal force, in fact, sometimes shining forth in great
affluence and splendor, and never quite extinct, has
been the salvation of the stage, which, but for this
fortunate ordainment, would long since have sunk

342 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

to ignominious frivolity. The intelligent saving
force, which believes in art and is devoted to its
cause, has kept the stage alive, in honor and pros-
perity, and upon that force its dependence must
rest. The stalwart presence of Richard Mansfield
in the American Theatre, therefore, was auspicious
in a high degree. He was a leader; he was a bul-
wark against the rampant phalanx of theatrical
button-makers, and the loss of him will be long felt
and deeply mourned.

Information of the death of my old friend reached
me at Mentone, in Southern California, and brought
with it a solemn sense not only of personal bereave-
ment but of loss to the world. The disappearance
of an illustrious figure — the extinction of splendid
abilities, and the termination of brilliant accom-
plishments— imparts an inexpressible feeling of deso-
lation. Mansfield had been my companion in many
scenes of busy Hfe, and in that lovely solitude among
the mountains. He would never come again. It
was then that I wrote the Elegy which here
follows, — speaking from the heart, and casting
on his grave the white rose of honor and loving
remembrance.

Photoijrdph hij Marcenu, .Vrir Yovk

RICHARD MANSFIELD
From His Last Photograph

ELEGY FOR MANSFIELD.

TTRITTBN AT MENTONE, CALIFORNIA, SEPTEMBER 8, 1907.

For me terrestrial mountains rise;

For thee celestial rivers run;
My steps are 'neath familiar skies,

But thine in realms beyond the sun.

This peaceful scene, that does not change,
This smiling vale, so fair to see,

Those lonely plains, that mountain range,
So glorious, — all were known to thee.

For many a year, in shade or shine,
When life was gay, when life was drear.

Thy friendly hand was clasped in mine.
Thy form was oft beside me here.

Now, though I sought through ev'ry land,
I should not feel, in any place.

The pressure of that loving hand,

Nor hear thy voice, nor see thy face.

So friendship fades, so love departs.
So living joy becomes a name

Shrin'd in the depth of breaking hearts, —
And yet the world remains the same.

The roses bloom, the fields are green,

The branches wave, the streamlets flow, —

For Nature, ruffled or serene.
Is deaf and blind to human woe.

Thy mind to beauty was subdued,

In Beauty's service thou wert blest, —

Stern warrior in the bitter feud
That would not let thy spirit rest:
343

344 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

The feud that wakes angelic rage,
The strife in which so many tire,

The deadly war that Art must wage
With mean intent and low desire.

Sleep sweetly, noble heart and true!

The tempest of thy life is o'er;
Nor baffled hope, nor pang of rue,

Nor any grief can wound thee more!

Sleep sweetly, in that hallow'd dell.
Far off, beside the solemn sea,

Where tears and prayers will, constant, tell,
The love that lives to mourn for thee.

There wild flowers, emblems of thy soul.
Around thy tomb will bud and blow.

While Ocean's melancholy roll

Will chaunt thy requiem, soft and low.

There oft the pilgrim's musing gaze
Will linger on the votive stone

That mutely tells to future days

Thy power and charm, forever flown.

And there, in golden time to come,
When all the clamor of our day

Has sunk to silence, and the hum
Of vain detraction died away,

Fame's Angel, hov'ring o'er thy rest,
His amaranthine bough will wave.

Proclaiming — Here lies Glory's guest,
Here Genius sleeps in Mansfield's grave!

MANSFIELD'S WRITINGS.

Mansfield did not wish to do anything that he
could not do more than well. He distrusted his fac-
ulties as a writer, and he did not sedulously cultivate
them. He knew that writing is a fine art, and
whenever he essayed to practice it he did so in a
spirit equally modest and sincere. The volume of
his writings is considerable, and while all that he
wrote is interesting some of it is exceptionally fine.
His tragedy of "Don Juan" is, distinctly, a valu-
able addition to dramatic literature. He did much
literary labor that can only be indicated, — formu-
lating ideas for plays, making rough drafts of them,
improvising dialogue, and revising the work of
other hands. It is not possible to designate pre-
cisely all that he contributed to various plays that
he produced, but in the course of this memoir that
subject has received due consideration. The story
told in the farce of "Prince Karl," is said to have
been suggested by certain veritable occurrences in
the life of a German nobleman. Mansfield's revision
of that play was particularly adroit and felicitous.
"Beau Brummell" owes almost everything to him.

345

346 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

He wrote "Monsieur." His pen greatly improved
"Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," "Nero," "The Scarlet
Letter," and "Ten Thousand a Year." It is inter-
esting to remember that, many years ago, that
admirable comedian, Edward A. Sothern, the prince
of whimsicality, wished to have a play written on
the subject of "Ten Thousand a Year," and to
act Oily Gammon. Mansfield, though he called it
"rubbish," never quite relinquished the belief that
a really fine play might be built from the story, and
perhaps he could have substantiated the belief if
he had chosen to devote himself to the necessary hard
work. His faculty of invention and his facility
in writing dialogue were alike remarkable, as shown
in his clever satirical monologue "As You Find It"
(1904), one sentence of which bitterly enough
expresses the conviction that his experience had
taught him: "You can have anything you want
in this world, if you'll pay the price for it." (That
title, "As You Find It," was used by Charles Boyle,
Earl of Orrery, 1676-1731, for a comedy of his,
published in 1703, telling the story of an amatory
intrigue.) Mention should be made that the capital
dance music, played in an episode of frolic, at an
Inn, in the tragedy of "Don Juan," was composed
by Mansfield, and also that he wrote the exquisite
melody that is sung by Don Juan, when serenading

HIS VERSE 347

Donna Julia, in that play, a melody that the grim
Duke, who has just plotted to kill him, is obliged
to hear. The best of Mansfield's lyrical efforts is
this celebration of a British military exploit in
Africa, in the Boer War:

THE CHARGE OF DARGAI GAP.

Bulldogs, hark! Did your courage fail?
Bulldogs, hark! Did your glory pale?
What of the slander that says "Decayed!"
"Gone to the dogs since the Light Brigade!"
For the blood and bone that humbled Nap,
'Twas there again, boys, in Dargai Gap!
Did you hear the swish of the flying shot?
The roll of the drum and the rattle pot ?
The music that rose clear o'er that yell
And thrilled through the ranks and stirred up hell!
Come, Highland laddie, head up, step forth!
A crown of glory! "Cock o' the North!"
You "Cock o' the North," aye, pipe away !
With both stumps gone, and you won the day!
You may lean your back against comrades now.
They'll moisten your lips and they'll kiss your brow.
For they fought like men, and a man may weep
When he lays a man to his last long sleep.
Bulldogs who sleep on the Dargai Ridge,
Fall in ! Quick, march ! and over the bridge !
The piper's ahead, and the same old air.
To pipe you to heaven and vet'rans there !
And you'll tell the bullies who humbled Nap
The glorious story of Dargai Gap.

348 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

The following is a list, except as to Music, thought
to be complete, of the published writings with which
his name is associated:

As You Find It: A Monologue. First called As You Don't
Like It.

Beau Brummell: Play, in Four Acts: By dictation to the
late William Clyde Fitch.

Blown Away: A Nonsense Book.

Charge at Dargai Gap, The: Poem.

Concerning Acting: Article; "The North American Review."

Don Juan: Tragedy, in Five Acts.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde: Play, Revised and Altered, from
play by Thomas Russell Sullivan.

Eagle's Song, The: Poem.

First Violin, The: Play, in Four Acts, made in collaboration,
imder name of Meridan Phelps, with J. I. C. Clarke, on
basis of Jessie Fothergill's novel.

King Henry V., Stage Version, with an Introduction.

King Richard III., Stage Version, with an Introduction.

Man and the Actor: Article; "Atlantic Monthly."

Monsieur: Play, in Four Acts.

My Audiences and Myself: Article; "Collier's Weekly."

Nero: Tragedy, in Five Acts, Revised and Altered, from
play by Thomas Russell Sullivan.

One Evening: A Collection of Songs: Music by Mansfield;
also, in several instances, the words.

Plain Talk on the Drama, A: Article; "North American
Review."

Prince Karl: Farce, in Four Acts: Revised and Altered,
from an original by A. C. Gunter.

Scarlet Letter, The: Drama, in Five Acts: Altered from play
by Joseph Hatton, based on Hawthorne's novel.

Story of a Production, The: Article; "Harper's Weekly."

Sketches Out of the Life of a Great Singer: (His Mother).

Talking v. Acting: An Address.

ERMINIA RUDERSDORFF.

Erminia Rudersdorff, the mother of Richard
Mansfield, was born at Ivanowsky, in the Ukraine,
Russia, December 12, 1822. Her father, Joseph
Rudersdorff, was a vioHnist, of high repute. She
studied music, in Paris, under the tuition of Bor-
dogni, and in Milan, under that of De JNIicheront.
Her first professional appearance was made in 1840,
at Leipsic. She had the greater part of her career
in Europe, and for many years she resided in Lon-
don, where her first appearance was made in 1854!
(the year of Richard Mansfield's birth), at Drury
Lane, in German opera. In 1872 she was engaged,
by Patrick Sarsfield Gilmore, to sing, in "The
World's Peace Jubilee," in Boston. She sailed from
England, June 1, aboard the Java, and, on reach-
ing Boston, lodged in the old Tremont House. On
the opening day of the Jubilee she sang "Inflam-
matus," from Rossini's "Stabat Mater." At one
of the ensuing concerts she sang a song called
"Homage to Columbia," which was designated on
the programme as follows: "Melody composed, the
Words written, and sung by Madame Erminia

849

350 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

Rudersdorff, accompanied by the Band of the
Grenadier Guards, conducted by Mr. Dan God-
frey." At another concert she sang "Let the Bright
Seraphim," from "Samson," "with trumpet obhgato
by Mr. M. Arbuckle." She also sang Alberto
Randegger's scena called "Medea." Her first
appearance in Opera, in America, was made on
October 30, 1873, at the Boston Theatre, as Leonora^
in "II Trovatore." A Boston newspaper of that
period mentions a concert, given at the Town Hall
in Swampscott, Mass., for a Benefit, on which occa-
sion "Mme. Rudersdorff, who kindly consented to
sing, gave two selections," and, it adds:

A young gentleman who was mentioned in the programme as
"Mr. R. M." sang a German song and "The Young Moun-
taineer," by Randegger. At the end of the concert this same
young gentleman informed the audience, with much apparent
delight, that Miss Gregory (the beneficiary) was too indis-
posed to sing, and instead was glad to say that he was going
to sing for her, and, much to the astonishment of everybody,
sang, in a high falsetto, "Oh, Dear, What Can the Matter
Be?" after the style of Mme. Liebhart, and for an encore, as
he had made quite a hit, rendered the "Carnival of Venice,"
a la Carlotta Patti.

That youth was Richard Mansfield. The songs
of Randegger, one of his mother's intimate friends,
were especially prized by Mme. Rudersdorff, and
persons who remember her singing of them testify

4i?irtT///.

I'UMi

MMPl ERMIXIA MANSFIELD UUDERSDORFF

THE BERLIN HOME 351

that it was sympathetic and beautiful. She taught
her son to sing them, and at all times ^lansfield's
singing of any simple ballad would touch the heart.
Mme. Rudersdorff was herself a composer of music:
her setting of Longfellow's poem of "The Rainy
Day" has long been favorably known.

Her country house was situated on Sawyer Hill,
in Berlin, near Fitchburg, Mass. She possessed
and cultivated a large farm, adjacent to that resi-
dence, and so practical was her interest in agricul-
ture that, in the local agricultural fairs, she com-
peted for prizes, exhibiting both vegetables and
cattle. Her dwelHng was burnt down, in 1881,
and a large mansion now occupies the site where
once it stood. She had several resident pupils,
while she lived in Berlin, among them being ]Miss
Emma V. Thursby, Miss Lazar (now the wife of
the much esteemed Judge, Stephen D. Stephens, of
New Brighton, Staten Island), Isabel Fassett, Miss
St. Clair, Fanny Kellogg, and Miss Van Buren.
There is a tradition in the village of Berlin, that,
sometimes, when it pleased some of those pupils to
try their voices, near to a large boulder in the
woods of their teacher's estate, the sound of their
singing could be heard in the village, a mile distant.

Erminia Rudersdorff was a woman of sturdy indi-
viduality, exceptional talents, and strong and inter-

352 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

esting character. Persons who often heard her sing-
ing testify that she possessed a superb voice, that
her method was wonderfully fine, and that, on all
professional occasions, she dominated by innate
authority. Personally she was erratic and uncon-
ventional, to the last degree, sometimes manifesting
a harsh, imperious temper, and habitually disre-
garding the social views and customs of the com-
munity in which she dwelt. She was, for example,
fond of smoking, and she would smoke cigars
when driving in the Berlin roads. Her con-
duct towards her pupils was sometimes rude and
severe, but also it was sometimes affectionate and
endearing. In some moods she was dehghtful.
She had known much trouble and sorrow. She was
intemperate, and she did not grow old gracefully;
but she had a kind heart, and it is probable that
she was not less estimable for being unpopular.
Several of her pupils resident at Berlin were
poor, but they were gratuitously entertained and
taught by her, because she perceived their musi-
cal talent and wished that it should be developed
and not wasted. Correct appreciation of the
character of the mother is perhaps, helpful
toward an understanding of the character of the
son.

Mme. Rudersdorff died, at the Hotel La Grange,

HIS MOTHER'S GRAVE 353

in Boston, on February 22, 1882, and was buried
at Mount Auburn, where her grave, near Wistaria
Path, is marked by a boulder of rough granite,
to which is affixed a bronze plate, bearing this
inscription :

ERMINIA RUDERSDORF
MANSFIELD

The remains of an inscription that formerly was
on the boulder, and that has been partly obliterated,
are discernible. A person who remembers having
seen the stone soon after it was placed in position
says that it then bore only the word:

RUDERSDORFF

There is no room in the lot for other graves, and in
summer the boulder is completely covered with ivy.
Grove's "Dictionary of Music and Musicians"
records that Erminia Rudersdorff was married, in
1844, at Frankfort, to Dr. KUchenmeister, a Pro-
fessor of Mathematics. The Professor disappears
from the record. Her marriage to Maurice Mans-
field occurred later, in Berlin. The Dictionary fur-
ther states that she wrote the libretto for Randeg-
ger's cantata in "Fridohn," based on Schiller's
"Gang nach dem Eisenhammer," sung at a festival
in Birmingham, England, in 1873.

354 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

HIS MOTHER'S WILL.

The Will of Mansfield's mother is a singularly
characteristic document, as clearly indicative of
her resolute mind as it is of her affectionate heart.
She wrote it on October 15, 1881, at which time her
house at Berlin had not been burnt, and when, accord-
ingly, her estate was considerable, in both extent and
value, and she bequeathed "everything to my dear
son Richard Mansfield," under a few "exceptions
and conditions." Richard was then living at Num-
ber 57 Berners Street, Oxford Street, London. A
few indicative passages from this interesting relic,
obviously the composition of the testator, are
appended.

MY LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT.

Boston, Mass.,
October 15th., 1881.

At present — to-day — my property consists in my estate
Lakeside, Berlin, Mass. $1,500 in the hands of Mr.
Henley Luce of Messrs. Kidder and Peabody, Bankers, of
this town. About $500 in the international Trust Com-
pany. A small balance in the 1st. National Bank, of
Clinton, Mass. My furniture. Piano, Pictures, rugs,
bric-a-brac, Plate, china, linen, wardrobe, Jewellery and
silver. . . .

I give my dear daughter Greta, wife of Gaston Bat-

BEQUESTS 355

tanchon of the Chateau De La Ragnc, Aignan, Gess,
France, the enamelled and jewelled ornaments pendant
and earrings, from the empress Eugenie, the gold bracelet
with three Diamonds and "Hermine Mansfeld" engraved
inside and the Tietjcns ring, 1 Torquoise, 2 medium and
6 small Diamonds, also my enamelled watch, chain and
breloques thereon.

I give my son, Henry Mansfield, of this city, my ring
with three turquoises, and all the furniture and bric-a-
brac and rugs at present in his room in Tremont Street.
This is to be given him in full discharge of any claim
he may want to make upon my property. . . .

I leave to my sister, Matsilde Rudersdorff of Jena, in
Germany, all my dresses, shawls, mantles, lace, body linen
— everything in my wardrobe, with exceptions as below.
Also my ring with 3 diamonds and the one with 4
turquoises. . . .

To my dear pupil, Speranza, Emma Thursby, the gold
link roman bracelet with "Vita tibi."

To my good pupil Fannie Kellogg, a black Cashemire
India bournous, embroidered with white silk, also a black
net skirt, embroidered with white silk, also a new pair
of old gold silk stockings and a wide Limerick lace
flounce, which she knows. . . .

... If the jewellery does not bring good prizes, it
is not to be sold, but kept for Richie's Avife, if he marries
one his friends approve of.

Beyond the property above stated, I have a valuable 4
year colt, Coquette, with my good friend Mr. Arthur
Hastings, at South Berlin, Mass., and a mare, Kittie
Allen, and a Phaeton, Harness etc., at Nim's Stables —
These are to be sold. Coquette ought to bring a high
figure. . . .

356 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

After paying my just debts, all money is to be invested
to best advantage and paid to my dear boy, Richie,
Richard Mansfield, when he marries, provided he does not
marry under five years from this year 1881, and the
month of December. . . .

I give Arthur Hastings of South Berlin, Mass., one of
the charcoal drawings by my son, Richard Mansfield.

I give to Captain Silas Sawyer of Berlin, Mass., also one
of the above charcoal drawings, as thanks for building a
stone hut over my coffin at Lakeside, which I know he will
do. . . .

Miss Ada St. Clair, at present 957 Hancock Street,
owes me $42 which are to be collected. . . .

October 18th, 1881.

Erminia Mansfield Rudersdorff.

Witness :

Julia R. Hotchkiss.
L. Louise Brigham.

The will was re-executed February 25, 1882, hav-
ing been interlined, in the presence of I. T. Talbot,
M. E. Emery, and Ellen Jones.

BEATRICE CAMERON— MRS. MANSFIELD.

Susan Hegeman, daughter of William H. Hege-
man and Esther Byram Hegeman, known on the
stage as Beatrice Cameron, was born at Tro}%
N. Y., in 1868. She began her career as an ama-
teur, appearing with Mrs. Cora Urquhart Potter,
in "A Midnight Marriage." Later she gained
some experience, acting in the company of Robert
Mantell, in the play of "Called Back," and she also
appeared in "Arrah-na-Pogue," and in one or two
other plays. She joined Richard Mansfield's com-
pany in 1886, making her first appearance with him,
at the Madison Square Theatre, New York, as Mrs.
Florence Lowell, in "Prince Karl," on JNIay 17 that
year, and she continued to act, as leading woman in
his company, until February 12, 1898, at the Grand
Opera House, Chicago, when she retired from the
stage. She was the first representative of the chief
female characters in all the plays produced by him,
during the time indicated, except that of Agnes
Carew, in "Dr. Jekyll and ISIr. Hyde," that part
ha\ang been first acted by INIiss Isabella Evesson,
and that of Mariana Vincent, in "Beau Brummell,"
that part having been first acted by Miss Agnes

357

358 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

Miller. Since her formal retirement she has
appeared on the stage only once, January 8, 1900,
at the Garden Theatre, New York, on which occa-
sion she acted Raina, in "Arms and the Man," a
play which Mansfield then presented for the last time.
Her repertory comprised :

Mrs. Florence Lowell "Prince Karl"

Agnes Carew "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde"

Alice Golden "Monsieur"

Lesbia "Lesbia"

Lady Anne "Richard III."

Letty Lightfoot "Master and Man"

Nora "A Doll's House"

Mariana Vincent "Beau Brummell"

Lucia "Don Juan"

Acte "Nero"

Tessy Tagrag "Ten Thousand a Year"

Hester Prynne "The Scarlet Letter"

Portia "The Merchant of Venice"

Raina "Arms and the Man"

Queen Louisa of Prussia "Napoleon Bonaparte"

Clara Desmond "The King of Peru"

Lady Thyrza "Castle Sombras"

Judith Anderson "The Devil's Disciple"

As an actress Beatrice Cameron was exceedingly
winning in the character of Mrs. Lowell, presenting
an image of girlish happiness, and she was variously
able and brilliant as Lucia, Hester Prynne, Nora,
and Raina, — the latter being, perhaps, her best per-
formance, considered as a work of art, and being,

Phototjravh b\i Mmrvnu. Xnr Ynih-

MRS. MANSFIELD AND GEORGE GIBBS MANSFIELD

ACTRESS AND WOMAN 359

also, one of the best examples of the satire of
romance that have been seen. She seemed inclined
to cultivate a taste for theatrical parts of a bizarre
character, but her natural aptitude was for parts
representative either of frolic, pensive sweetness,
or deep womanly feeling. Her Lucia was one of
the decisive artistic successes of her career. The
identification with the assumed state of a boy, inci-
dental to that impersonation, — when Lucia, dressed
as a page, follows Don Juan into danger, — was
complete; the bearing was free, and even martial;
the feeling was deep and true; and the utterance of
the feeling was fluent, musical, and tender. As
Tessy, in "Ten Thousand a Year," she gave a
performance remarkable for bright intelligence,
natural, sustained vivacity, and winning ardor. As
a woman Mrs. Mansfield is highly esteemed for her
patience, placid resolution, gentleness, loyalty, and
executive faculty. She understood and deeply appre-
ciated her husband, and her sound business judgment
was a sagacious guide to him. The desire of most
persons, whatever their pursuit, is for the gratifi-
cation of their wishes, irrespective of others. The
principal aims of Beatrice Mansfield were to protect
her husband's interest, cheer his hfe, and promote
his happiness. She is remarkable, among women
of the stage, for the cheerful alacrity with which.

360 LIFE OF MANSFIELD

for his sake, she set aside her professional ambition.
There are not many actors who realize that success
in life is possible away from the stage.

Mere encomium is not intended, but a true
picture of character and right appreciation of it.
At a time when Mrs. Mansfield was enduring
bereavement, and when she knew of the fatal ill-
ness of a member of my family, she wrote to me,
in a sweet and gentle spirit, and perhaps her
gracious letter, which discloses, in few words, so
much of herself and of the husband whom she so
much loved, will not be deemed amiss, in this por-
trayal of their lives:

My Dear Mr. Winter: —

. . . It is hard to see our dear ones fade away. It may
be well for them, but it is very hard for us. ... I wish, oh,
so much — that we lived "within a day's journey" of each
other. Dick seems to realize, more and more, as years pass on,
how much we need the friends we love, and who are interested
in the things we care for. He is so restless and depressed — and
I can see it is because he has no one to whom he can talk of the
things which are his life. There is no artistic atmosphere; it
is all sordid, hard, and commonplace.

He misses you — the congenial interchange of ideas, the new
thoughts that come of meeting another thought half way. I
express myself badly — but what I want to try and tell you —
have you not often felt, that this city lacked that place of
meeting for men of letters? Or is it the element that is lack-
ing? But what I am really trying to say is this — if we could
only see you sometimes ! . . . Will you try and come up

MKS. MANSFIELD AND HKH SOX I\ 1!)08

COMRADES 361

some day? It would do Dick more good than I can say.
There seems to be no one to whom he can talk of the things
that are dear to him.

Always your sincere friend,

Beatrice Mansfield.

The story of the Life of Richard Mansfield
would be sadly incomplete without some tribute to
one who was his best friend, to whom, in all his
troubles, disappointments, and sufferings, he turned
for comfort and cheer, and never turned in vain.

END OF VOLUME I.

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