 Chapter 14 of Autobiography of an Actress by Anna Cora-Mollett This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Kelly Taylor My engagements for the first year concluded at New Orleans. Our contract with Mr. C., which then came an end, was not renewed. Edward L. Davenport, of Boston, was strongly recommended to Mr. Mollett by old and leading members of the profession. His high moral character, his unassuming and gentlemen-like manners, his wonderful versatility and indisputable talents caused him to be selected as a person who was to travel with us during my second year upon the stage. Upon this selection, every succeeding month and year gave us new cause for congratulation. The prominent position he has since won upon the English stage and the honors he has received from the fastidious English audiences are just a reward of intrinsic but most unaustentatious merit. The American public were doubly satisfied with the choice made of a professional associate, because Mr. Davenport is a countryman. We commenced our theatrical tour at Buffalo and made the whole circuit of the United States. Another prosperous year crowned our exertions. Our engagements had but one interruption. That was occasioned by an accident I unfortunately met with while performing in Baltimore. The play was The Honeymoon in three acts. Juliana has several rapid changes of costume to effect. When I left the stage to dress for the last time, I darted off at full speed towards my dressing room. The lights behind the scenes were unusually dim. A sofa had carelessly been left in one of the passages. Some tired carpenter was stretched upon it in an attitude which Dickens would have described as peculiarly American. His feet protruded over one arm of the sofa in somewhat more elevated position than his head. My flight brought me suddenly in contact with a pair of heavy boots. The blow received was so severe that I staggered back and fell. I had not time to think whether or not I was injured. An actor is always impressed with the conviction that he has no right to private sufferings or emotions during a performance. I dressed hastily and returned to the stage. The instant I began to speak I experienced a choking sensation and it was with difficulty that I could give utterance to the necessary words. I struggled on until the middle of the scene and then was forced to whisper to Mr. Davenport who enacted the duke, cut the scene, I can't speak. He imagined that I was suddenly taken ill and did a cut the scene. We both, in stage parlance, came to cues, most remorselessly mangling the author. The play, nevertheless, seemed interminable and when it ended I was forced to respond to the call before the curtain, though it was with some difficulty that I could stand. We had scarcely reached home when the effect of the blow became apparent. A blood vessel had been ruptured and I was nearly suffocated with the sanguine stream that poured from my lips. According to my physician's opinion the rupture took place at the time the blow was received and I had been enabled to keep back the evidence of the injury through a strong effort of will. This is only one of the myriad instances that could be given to prove what an actor can endure under the excitement of representation. I was, of course, unable to conclude my engagement, but this was the first I had ever broken. For a few days it was supposed that the injury was serious, but through the help of a vigorous constitution it proved otherwise. In a fortnight I was able to travel to Boston and appear as Juliet, a part which requires a superabundant amount of physical strength. Early in the autumn of this second year we commenced our journey south. We acted in all the principal theaters until we reached Macon on our way to Mobile. No theater had yet been erected there and we were solicited to give readings. I read one night to a full audience and Mr. Davenport diversified the entertainment with songs. In Columbus we devoted another night and another in Montgomery to readings, intermingled with Mr. Davenport's ballad singing. I greatly preferred the theater to the lecture room and resolutely refused all solicitations to give a course of readings. In the lecture room I missed the friendly footlights which form a barrier between the real and the ideal. I longed for the illusion, the self-forgetfulness. On the stage I was somebody else. In the lecture room I could not rise out of myself. Amongst the most agreeable reminiscences of this year are the visits of Henry Clay. We were fulfilling an engagement in New Orleans when he first called upon me. It changed that my history was well known to him. He took a deep interest in my professional exertions and his encouragement was not sparingly bestowed. One day he gave me a glowing description of Miss O'Neill's Juliet, especially of the naivete and fervor of her balcony scene. But when he attempted to quote the passages which had impressed him, I could not help laughing involuntarily at his odd deviations from the text. I daresay I am misquoting, he remarked apologetically. I never could remember a line of poetry. I had to admit that his version of Juliet differed considerably from the one which popular prejudice had adopted, nor could I flatter him by saying that he improved upon Shakespeare. He then told me that it was a singular fact and one which had been a subject of regret through his whole life that he could not by any effort retrain verse in his memory. Even if he studied a poem by rote, in a few days the lines would be wholly effaced from the middle tabloid on which they had been laboriously written. He related to me and I note in painful illustration of this peculiarity. He was making some public address I think it was a 4th of July oration, during the course of which he purposed quoting the well-known line, lives there a man with a soul so dead who never to himself has said, this is my own, my native land. Declaming warmly he gave enthusiastic utterance to the line, lives there a man with a soul so dead. But the poet's page suddenly became a blank he could not remember a word. He paused then repeated the line with more patriotic ardor than before. He thought the second line would come to him by means of repetition, it came not. He put his hand to his forehead trying to think what the man did, whose soul was so dead, but the evidence of that individual's torpid effsence would not develop itself in meter. For the third line he asked the question emphatically, not to say despairingly, lives there a man with a soul so dead must have paused midway in his quarry, had not a voice from the crowd continued in a stage whisper, who never to himself has said. The oblivious statesman caught the words and thankfully finished his quotation. He determined in future to ornament his orations with a few of these slippery gems of the poet. The next engagement took us to Vicksburg, but at its close we rejoined Henry Clay on board of the ale Alexander Scott. We passed five days in this floating palace on our way to Louisville. Henry Clay was cheered whenever we stopped and answering cheers were sent back from the boat. In these the ladies now and then joined. I was standing beside him when we arrived at Memphis. He turned to me and said, Have you ever appeared here? I answered in the negative. This western Memphis makes more gigantic progress than any town I know. She will be the queen city of the west by and by. Never pass here again without appearing. I answered that I would not. It was six years before I saw Memphis once more, but I kept my word. My appearance was rendered a brief one through sudden indisposition. I remember with regret the improbability that I shall ever stand before a genial Memphis audience again. Henry Clay passed a large portion of his time in the ladies salon. The bearing of our lofty minded statesman, though always dignified, was characterized by extremist courtesy, courtesy to the lowest as well as the highest. He conversed freely upon all subjects and with the fluency for which he was distinguished. Aged ears played truant with his tails and younger hearings were quite ravished with his discourse. We were one day discussing Lafayette's visit to this country. Some jocular estimate was made of the number of ladies whom he had affectionately saluted. Clay remarked that kissing was like the presidency. It was not to be sought and not to be declined. The natural inference from this remark was that he would not oppose the wishes of his party if again they offered his name as a presidential candidate. The conclusion did not prove erroneous. He recounted to me a number of anecdotes illustrative of the manner in which his friends demonstrated their grief at the great Whig defeat. Some of the most pathetic of these stories had still a touch of the ludicrous, but he seemed to fill most deeply the manifestations of attachment of which he was the object. Many of the passengers exerted themselves to entertain a fellow traveler whom everyone seemed to treat as his own particular and honored guest, but none contributed so largely to his amusement as Mr. Davenport. He sang comic, patriotic, and sentimental songs and recited humorous sketches in which five or six different characters were personated. One evening he entered the salon disguised as a down-east Yankee. I must say, by way of parenthesis, that his Yankee was a stage representative of Yankeeland, a broad but telling caricature of the reality. He wore a red Whig, striped pantaloons that maintained a respectable distance from his ankles, a short jacket, and a flame-colored cravat. He carried his hands deeply thrust in his pockets as though they were an evident inclination to approach his knees. His jog-along gait could only have originated in New England. He was not recognized when he entered the cabin. The passengers supposed him to be some person who had just come aboard. He commenced talking with a nasal intonation in a loud and familiar manner and asking oceans of questions. He gave Mr. Mawat, who was in on the secret, a nudge and accosted him with, Stranger, I hear that's Henry Clay. I guess I'll scrape acquaintance with him if you'll do the polite thing. Mr. Mawat presented the Yankee gentleman to Mr. Clay. The impudent speeches of a down-easter to the best representative of the Republican royalty, as the Yankee designated the statesman, convults the passengers with laughter. Mr. Clay joined in the contagious merriment. Dreading that these personalities might give offense, I took occasion to whisper to him the Yankee's history and the name which he inherited from his father. Mr. Clay hardly lent himself to the joke. On the day that we reached Louisville, the passengers requested me to present our eminent countrymen with some poetical tribute in commemoration of our journey. I wrote an impromptu song which was set to music by Mr. Davenport and sung by him when the passengers assembled in the cabin to take farewell of the statesman. Mr. Clay made a point of publicly and very graciously thanking Mr. Davenport for the genuine diversion his talents had afforded us all. He wrote in his pocketbook a few kind and complementary lines of which the gratified actor might well be proud. We were stepping on shore when Mr. Clay came up to me and said, I have just been very much touched. You know the owners and officers of this boat are all Democrats, yet they have refused to take any fare from me or my party. I don't know when such a trifling circumstance has moved me so much. The tears were standing in his eyes as he spoke. I received two visits from him during the day. We were in Louisville. He then traveled to Lexington and we took the steamboat to Cincinnati. We exchanged several letters after this and I had many evidences that his interests remain unabated. But we never met again. The next time I visited Louisville, my drawing room window in the hotel was decked in remembrance of Henry Clay for his funeral procession was passing through the streets. Mr. Davenport and myself had never appeared in Cincinnati. We were engaged to open the Athenaeum. The manager had nobly determined to banish from this theater all the abuses that degrade the drama. The public gave him their hearty cooperation. No inaugural dress had been prepared. I was expected to deliver one and the manager coolly informed me that he presumed, of course, I would write it myself. It wanted but two days of the opening of the theater and the address had not only to be composed but committed to memory. It was a well-known fact that an author can remember the language of another person with far greater ease than his own. I accomplished my forced task and by an emphatic delivery made the most of what I had written. But no applause could compensate me for the nervous miseries incident upon rapid composition, quick study, and the compulsory utterance of one's own consciously crude thoughts. The house was opened under the most propitious auspices. Those were palmy days for the Athenaeum. Re-engagement followed re-engagement and the seats, there were no boxes, were nightly crowded with a class of the community who had never before been seen within the walls of a theater. Mr. Davenport became an especial favorite. On the day of his departure he was presented by the young men of the city with a gold watch and chain, the former bearing a complimentary inscription. This engagement closed my second year upon the stage, a year as eminently successful and more replete with happiness than the first. I had gained mental and physical strength, improved at health, and become enured to a thousand disagreements, the discomfort, and the endless vexation, the unavoidable fatigues of the profession. And I had watched the frown of disapproval slowly melting away from the faces that I loved and the benignest of smiles dawning in its place. Every actress who gained celebrity is tolerably sure of being corded and fetid inundated with poems, complimentary letters, flowers, rich gifts. These things seem to be the inevitable consequences, I might say the conventional accessories of her public position. But if her sorrows have taught her to distinguish tensile from gold, these hollow evidences of mere popularity can forward little real internal satisfaction. If she has tasted the tree of knowledge of the world and has been gifted with dearly bought insight into realities, she knows those who lavish these gifts and bestow these favors are oftener actuated by self-love than by love of her. They bow to the rising star because its efflusions is reflected back upon its votaries. This is a bitter lesson for prosperity to teach, but, like other bidders, it possesses restorative virtues. It is the wholesome tonic that reinvigorates the spirit which flatteries debilitate. At the close of this second professional year, Mr. Mallet sailed for Europe to make arrangements with London managers for our appearance in the English Metropolis. I returned to that roof where I was most certain of passing peaceful and happy days, my fathers. During this summer I wrote Armand, a five-act drama. The play was engaged by the manager of Park Theatre, and a time fixed for its production before a line had been written. The plot is not strictly historical, but it has some slight historical foundation. The part of Armand was, professionally speaking, measured for Mr. Davenport, and suited to his vigorous and impulsive style of acting. Blanche, I designed to personate myself. Every scene, as it was completed, I read aloud to a little circle of feminine critics. They were my sisters, most of whom had been gathered from their scattered homes to greet the one amongst their number who had been for two years a wanderer. Their critical acumen was, of course, tempered by considerable leniency, but the critics' prerogative was not wholly abandoned. Sometimes they savagely condemned the situation, or insisted that a passage should not be wholly expunged, and, now and then, they pertenaciously objected to laugh or weep at the expected moment. I generally adopted their suggestions, but assuming an heir of mock dignity, I seldom failed to remind the exulting denunciators that Mollier was guided by the opinions of his washerwoman. Mr. Mawet consulted with Mr. McReady. Mr. McReady thought it in politic for my first appearance to be made in London. The provincial theatres, he said, were the seminaries of the London institutions. If an actor obtained and decided celebrity in the provinces, he would, as a matter of course, receive advantageous offers from London managers. Mr. McReady proposed that I should play a round of engagements in the English provinces and wait until my abilities had been fully tested, and I had received a summons to London. Mr. Mawet was convinced of the wisdom of his advice and entered into an engagement with Mr. Knowles, the director of the Theatre Royal Manchester for the appearance of Mr. Davenport and myself on the 7th of December, 1847. Armand was completed shortly after Mr. Mawet's return to this country and was produced at the Park Theatre September 27, 1847. The Broadway Theatre, then just completed, opened on the same night and offered a strong counter-attraction. Yet the new play drew a full audience to the park. Mr. Davenport's personation of Armand gained him fresh laurels. I was too nervous and too much tormented with anxieties for the success of the play to embody the character of Blanche to my own satisfaction. But none could know, as I myself knew, how far my representation fell short of my own creation. The success of fashion had prepared the audience to receive Armand with marked favour. As the curtain dropped upon the 5th act, a heavy weight of doubt and responsibility fell from my heart. Judgment had been passed upon the new candidate for popular approval and I had caused to rejoice at the verdict. The play was acted every night until the close of our engagement. Immediately afterwards it was produced in Boston and received unequivocal warmth. This Boston engagement was our farewell in America. On the last night, it was my benefit night, the play was Armand and I appeared upon the stage and listened to a greeting even more than ordinarily enthusiastic. A multitude of recollections suddenly broke upon me, sweeping away my composure in their strong current. Thoughts of my first public appearance made in Boston, of the very trial since that day of hope and promise, of the new ordeal through which I was about to pass, of the possibility that I might never stand before this well-beloved audience again, crowded upon my mind with bewildering force. It was the first time since I had become an actress that any personal emotion had gained sufficient mastery to interfere with my interpretation of the character I represented. Tears are unbecoming at all times. Red and swollen eyes to say nothing of other disfigurements consequent upon weeping are particularly inappropriate to the joyous May Queen. Mrs. Maywood, who was playing my nurse, Vabette, as she encircled me with her arms, intermingled her whispered words of consolation with this womanly hint. There are moments when a performer has a magnetic perception of the pulse-throbbing of his audience and know that they beat in unison with his own. I felt that there were answering sympathies around me and was certain that the red eyes which my good Vabette thought so frightful would be pardoned. On the 1st of November, 1847, we sailed from Boston for Liverpool in the Cumbria commanded by Captain Judkins. Mr. Davenport accompanied us. His support had been found so advantageous during his first year that he was engaged for a second. We were, of course, well provided with introductory letters. Henry Clay sent me one to the Earl of Carlisle and another to the American minister, Mr. Bancroft. They were neither mere formal letters of introduction. In the latter, he makes a graceful allusion to the difference of politics between himself and this gentleman. There were subjects of private interest upon which he hoped that their opinions would not be at variance. I quote the concluding portion of the letter in which this was enclosed. Many, many thanks for the friendly sentiments towards me contained in your letter. A member of my family snatched Evelyn for me to Peru's and owing to that cause and for one of time I have not yet read it. I shall go into it with such partiality for its authorists as to disqualify me as a critic if otherwise I was what I happen not to be a competent judge. May honor, fame, pleasure and riches be your award in England with a happy and safe return to our own dear country. Just before we sail, I received another letter from Mr. Clay in which these words occur. I have read with much delight the quotations from Armand. Don't let the duties of actress engross all your time but leave a fair portion of it for those of the authorist. May God protect, preserve and prosper you while absent and bring you back with increased fame and renown in safety to our dear country. End of Chapter 14 Chapter 15 of Autobiography of an Actress by Anna Cora Mollett Recording by Kelly Taylor A succession of violent gales rendered our voyage more than ordinarily perilous. The sight of Len gladdened our eyes on the 15th day. On arriving in Liverpool we found that the Cambria was reported to have been wrecked off Cape Race. The ship lost was the packet Steven Phillip with 91 passengers. A portion of our engine was broken during the passage and we lay still seven hours while it was repairing. We met no other accident. The stormy voyage brought vividly to mind the terrible recollections of my childhood, the shipwreck and the loss of my young brother. But I was too thoroughly a victim of my child Amir to be susceptible even of fear. We remained a week in Liverpool that I might recover from the effects of this oppressive sea melody and then left for Manchester. First and firmest among the friends we made in a foreign land were Reverend Mr. S. and his wife. Mr. S. had for many years been pastor of a new church in Manchester. I pause when I would write of these revered friends and my mind fills with affectionate and grateful remembrances. I need not here record all the evidences we received of a valuable and energetic friendship. They are registered in a more lasting chronicle to the pages of which I often turn. Previous to our debut Mrs. S. entertained undisguised fears that we would receive harsh treatment at the hands of the proverbially caustic Manchester critics. She called upon the most ascetic of the cynical brotherhood to smooth the raven down by interesting him in my history. The experiment was only calculated to render him more uncompromising. In another field she was more successful. Her efforts raised me up an army of defenders amongst the members of her husband's congregation. They were prepared to support me if I betrayed the faintest glimmering of genius. Another anxious friend called upon the theatrical critic of the Manchester Guardian the leading oracle of the press and offered to present him to me. The cautious and conscientious critic declined the introduction until after my debut, remarking that a personal acquaintance might pre-possess him in my favour and interfere with the justice of his criticism. And of such judges was the tribunal composed before we were to be sifted, scanned and tested. In such hands were placed distinctions broad and powerful fan that puffing at all winnows the light away. When our talents fell short in their fair proportions of some fabulous or imaginary standard we were to be annihilated by a paragraph stabbed by thrust of steel in the form of pens, exterminated by the simoon of a critic's breath. Pleasant awe-buries these to usher in our career in a land of strangers. The theatre was a remarkably beautiful one. The play selected for our debut was, as usual, the Lady of Lyon. Our only rehearsal took place on the day of the performance. We could not but notice the half-sneer that flitted across the faces of the English actors during that rehearsal. They were incredulous as to our abilities and perhaps not without some cause. Now and then there was an ineptuous intonation in their voices that seemed to rebuke us for presumption. Their shafts hit but hurt not. Our American independence was energyous, from which the arrows fell without producing any effect but merriment. No hand of welcome was extended, no word of encouragement was spoken to the intruding Yankees. We were surrounded by an atmosphere of impenetrable and yet there were no doubt kind hearts among the doubters but the stars were transatlantic and their light was unacknowledged in that hemisphere. Even the subordinates of the theatre gave it as their private opinion that these new luminaries would be extinguished without trouble. At night when the curtain rose upon Pauline the greeting of the audience said plainly let us see what you can do and it said nothing more. Claude received the same gracious though promiseless permission but even that greeting assured us of that downright generous trait in John Bull which makes him the fairest of umpires even where he is a party to the contest. Once make it plain that he is beaten as in the case of the trial with the New York Yacht and he will hazzaw for the victor as vocerificely as he would have done for himself had he been on the winning side. Before the fall of the curtain on the fourth act it was decided that the stars were not to be put out. At the fall of the fifth they had taken on an honorable place in the theatrical firmament and were allowed to shine with undisputed light. The hardiness of the call before the curtain at the conclusion of the play atone for the shyness of our reception. Mr. Davenport thanked the audience in a speech eloquent with genuine feeling and now a marvelous change suddenly took place in the deportment of the actors towards us. There was a making way for the successful candidates to the public favor a looking up to instead of the looking down on them. Sneers and innuendos were magically converted into smiles and congratulations. There were even speculations afloat concerning the hit that we would make upon the London stage. The debutantes had been as cheerful as could be expected over the distrust and disdain with which they had been treated in the morning and they were now able to be unaffectedly merry at the equally unlooked for courtesies lavished upon them at night. The next morning the critics were unanimous in commendation with the exception of the examiner whom Mrs. S had attempted to disarm of his ferocity but he was harmlessly savage and reluctantly admitted that the American candidates had gained a foothold in the affections of the English public. The Guardian reputed to be the critic of the first importance in Manchester prefaced his criticism with the following paragraph Mrs. Mowat and Mr. Davenport, the American actors exaggeration of a peculiar kind if not rant has been so uniformly a characteristic of all the American actors whom we have seen that we have been induced to view it as an attribute of the American stage that it is not an inseparable attribute the chasen style of the artist named above who made their English debut at our theatre royal on Monday evening in the Lady of Lyon satisfactorily demonstrates Mrs. Mowat judging from the accounts of her which the American papers have occasionally furnished is highly endowed with intellect the cultivation and exercise of which have by no means been neglected either in the departments of dramatic or general literature indeed in this respect we know of none of our English actresses who stand a comparison with her except Mrs. Butler let us add that Mrs. Mowat has a most engaging person, slight inform features capable of a lack of gentle and forcible expression a voice of silvery sweetness and that her bearing is marked by refinement and then we have said enough to prove that she has qualifications for the stage of a high order Mr. Davenport has a manly person easy department and an elocution very smooth and agreeable then follows a long and elaborate critique on the Lady of Lyon the manner in which it is represented by Mr. McCready and Ms. Fawcett and finally by ourselves we appeared every night for a fortnight in the close of the engagement the manager informed us that Mr. Maddox of the Princess Theatre desired to enter into an arrangement for our appearance in London this was precisely what we most desired a few days after our arrival the great metropolis all preliminaries were settled and we engaged to appear at the Princess's Theatre on the 5th of January 1848 to play alternate nights with Madame Filliam for six weeks I was thus relieved from the necessity of acting every night and afforded an opportunity for needful rest and even more requisite study the Lady of Lyon as on previous occasions for our opening play the cost of its production in London was 20 pounds this sum gave the theatre the right of performance for the whole season the author demanded the same sum if the play were enacted for a single night the manager of the Princesses objected to so expensive a selection the usual price paid to an author for the representation of a five act drama is two guinea per night after manifold discussions and the endless canvassing of the merits of various plays we consented to make our debut in the hunchback of James Sheridan Knoll our first rehearsal in an English provincial theatre had not proved particularly delightful but it was a foreshadowing of and a needful preparation for the more aggravated temper trying inflections that awaited us at a London rehearsal the stage aristocrats of the company made no effort to conceal their absolute contempt for the American aspirants figuratively speaking we were made to walk through a lane of nettles so narrow that we could not avoid getting scratched the more gently they were touched the more deeply they stung at the request politely urged of be so good as to cross to the right I occupy the left the answer dryly returned was excuse me I played this part originally with Miss Butler at Drury Lane I always kept this position it is the proper situation then there was a significant look at the prompter which said this Republican dust offends us we must get rid of it the more mildly Mr. Davenport and myself uttered our unavoidable request the more decidedly we were answered with objections to our wishes founded upon the authority of some mighty precedent neither patient nor gentleness could disarm our antagonist we read out with hearing that Mrs. Butler sat during her delivery of a certain speech and therefore nobody else could stand or that Miss Fawcett fainted with her head leaning forward and therefore no Julia could faint with her head inclined backwards or that Mrs. Keane threw herself at a certain point into the arms of Master Walter and therefore the embrace was a necessity I at last boldly and I confess with some temper said Sir when I have made up my mind to become a mere imitator of Mrs. Butler or of Miss Fawcett or of Mrs. Keane I shall perhaps come to you for instruction at present it is for the public to decide upon the faultlessness of my conception I shall not alter it in spite of the very excellent authority you have cited this determined declaration it was certainly a declaration of independence silenced my principal tormentor he made up his mind that if I was wanting in talent I was not deficient in spirit he would have vowed before the one but at least he yielded to the other but this was not my only or most serious annoyance Miss Susan Cushman was to enact the character of Helen she sent an apology for her absence at rehearsal on the plea of indisposition the manager chose to imagine retain some theatrical jealousy towards a country woman and purpose to absent herself on the night of our first appearance no substitute for so important a part as Helen could be provided at short notice and the play would necessarily have to be withdrawn the anticipated debut postponed I could see no reason for supposing that Miss Cushman had such unamiable intentions as were attributed to her by the manager we were very slightly acquainted but our intercourse had been agreeable Miss Cushman's name was unceremoniously expunged from the cast and Miss Emily Monoghue the leading lady of the theater was persuaded by Mr. Maddox to undertake the role of Helen at the last rehearsal for we had several just as Miss Monoghue commenced rehearsing Miss Susan Cushman walked upon the stage she inquired by what right the character belonging to her was given to another lady the manager who was not celebrated for a conciliatory demeanor towards his company bluntly informed her of his suspicions an angry scene ensued such as I never before and I rejoiced to say never after witnessed in any theater rehearsal was interrupted I sat down at the prompter's table in a most unenviable state of mind the actor stood in clusters around the wings enjoying the dispute Miss Cushman and Mr. Maddox occupied the stage a casual spectator might have supposed they were rehearsing some tempestuous passages of a melodrama Miss Cushman declared that she would play Helen for that she had done nothing to forfeit her right to the performance Mr. Maddox maintained that the part should be played by Miss Monoghue Miss Cushman was very naturally exasperated I remained silent but internally wishing that the disputants might suddenly disappear through some of the trapdoors that checkered the stage and were devoted to the use of fairies and hobgoblins finally Mr. Maddox ordered that the stage should be cleared and the rehearsal continued Miss Cushman was forced to retire just as she reached the wing she turned back and offered me her hand I gave mine she departed this extraordinary scene in the drama of real life thoroughly unnerved and unfitted me for the business of the hour and that night I was to make my London debut I had not recovered from the painful excitement when I drove to the theatre in the evening to dress for the performance of Julia how shall I describe the petty miseries the mountain of excitation made of treasured trifles that rendered that night unspeakably wretched who does not know how much easier it is to endure a great and actual trial than the pinpricks of accumulated annoyances shivering with cold I entered the dreary star dressing room my newly engaged maid awaited me she was a quiet timid middle age woman and appeared nearly nervous as myself is there no fire I inquired with chattering teeth this dough smokes, ma'am and the ladies complained so much that I was afraid to have it lauded but I shall freeze while I am dressing the good woman looked distressed and seemed to think it very likely just at this moment the mistress of the wardrobe entered with some dresses which she had persuaded me to let her alter that they might be more in accordance with English taste in a somewhat authoritative tone she bade the maid like all the gas burners informing me that they would sufficiently heat the room they soon created an unwholesome warmth which was however more endurable than the absolute cold the mistress of the wardrobe to my surprise and annoyance seemed prepared to make herself at home in my comfortless apartment in all events it was more than I could do she had belonged to the theatre a number of years and had complacently passed judgment on all the stars whose transitory like had illuminated that firmament her leuquacity nearly deafened me but she was a personage of too much importance to be coolly requested to leave the room I did venture a gentle hint by remarking significantly I think I must begin to dress soon but was quite defeated by the quiet tone of acquiescence with which she replied I think you must or you won't be ready I thought of Sinbad the sailor and of the old man of the sea upon his shoulders who would not be shaken off I began to dress my unwelcome visitor pour forth one unceasing stream of gossip as she watched me now and then she directed or chid the trim made but never attempted to assist her I prepared to arrange my hair aren't you going to have a hairdresser inquired my tormentor looking aghast at my evident intention of being my own coiffure no I always dress my own hair well now let's see what you're going to make of it what ape of air you've got to be sure a heap of hair I was inclined to be vain of the length and abundance of my hair I may make the admission now I looked at her I will not describe in what manner but I might as well have looked at the great Mongol under the delusion that he would be odd the great heap of hair was rapidly divided into a single row of ringlets that fell to the waist you're not going to leave your hair in that wild fashion to be sure I am I constantly wear it so good gracious the audience will gore you guy me oh yes gore you gore you they will guy me what do you mean by guy I ask both becoming alarmed in spite of myself at the unknown horror why laugh at you to be sure and chaff you chaff me yes cluck their hands as if they thought it was very pretty but all the time be going you don't you know about the 5th of November guy fox day when they carry a guy about in the streets to make sport of that's going this was a novel style of gunpowder plot and I was standing over the train which my ringlets were about to ignite I turned from the glass which reflected a face not very amiable in its expression and commits dressing wait a moment wait a moment I have forgotten something said my persecutor and ran out of the room she returned in a moment and handed me a wadded long very dexterously made to amplify and round the forum I made this for you to wear for I noticed you had much more figure and a bean stalk you look as if a breath of air would blow you away it was true that I was at that period excessively thin my weight being less than 90 pounds although I was slightly above the medium height I looked doubly at this new and ingenious appliance of the toilet but was finally persuaded to try its effect to my own eyes the added breath gave me a disproportioned appearance rendering the waist waspish and the shoulders too narrow I was assured that it was a great improvement and maybe look less insignificant there was no time for alterations the call boy had tapped at the door and given the summons Julia you are called at the same moment Mr. Mawit came to conduct me to the entrance where the Helen of the evening stood waiting Helen and Julia entered together as we advanced from the back of the stage we were greeted with repeated rounds of applause but it was reasonable to suppose that one half of the welcome was intended for Miss Montague a lady who for her talents and private virtues was held in deservedly high esteem for the first time I comprehended the full meaning of the mystical words stage fright my moment had come at last the melody had seized me and in its worst form with my first attempt to the salutation of the audience I lost the ease that marked security to please I could not force my quivering lips into a smile when I spoke I could not hear the sound of my own voice floating mist were dancing before my eyes I saw three faces of Helen instead of one what was the matter with my feet when I tried to walk the tidy links of some invisible chain bound them together and my limbs why could not the most resolute effort prevent their tremulous motion my very hair as it touched my shoulders seemed to have a clammy medusa like coil mechanically meaninglessly I uttered the words of the part and gazed at the triplicated Helen with a vacant stare not a hand of applause was raised for Julia through throughout the first act nor the second nor the third though the author had afforded manifold opportunities of making points I had never before failed at certain burst of passion to elicit the responsiveness of the audience but I could make no burst like an autonomous on I moved in differently through the part I seemed to myself gradually sinking on a shoreless sea in a dead calm the sea of public condemnation without the power to grasp even at a straw the fourth act commenced master Walter leads the penitent Julia through the sumptuous halls of her off yonest bridegroom mansion a mirror supposed to be seen in the distance master Walter bids Julia look at the reflected image of the mistress in anticipation of these splendors at rehearsal master Walter had asked me as he was in courtesy bound to do on which side I preferred the imaginary mirror to be situated I answered on the left it is often confusing even to very old actors the sides on which they have been accustomed to act unexpectedly changed did master Walter remember this when he deliberately crossed the stage and pointed me out to the mirror on the right I was generous enough to fancy that he did master Walter hands Julia a chair and seats himself beside her at the words steed my heart bounds at the thought of thee thou comest to bear the page from bonds to liberty Julia springs joyfully from her seat the action is so natural that it can hardly be avoided master Walter had handed me the chair I sat down he took another chair gazed at me mournfully for a moment then deliberately but unconsciously I hope placed it upon my flowing train and seated himself to start up at the required moment without leaving the train behind me would have been impossible I endeavored to disengage the foals without interrupting his history of the princess and the page but unsuccessfully I tried to attract his attention to the mishap but he was wrapped in his part I had no alternative but to utter the required lines without attempting to start up and to wait patiently until he thought it proper to rise and release me at the announcement of the Earl's secretary master Walter was forced to make his exit I was prisoner no longer I stood alone upon the stage the oppressing influences had the icy spell was suddenly broken my paralyzing fears melted away I delivered the soliloquy commencing a wetted bride is it a dream? is it a phantom? with a passionate abandon that called down a storm of surprised applause it was the first I had received since I opened my lips Davenport entered as Clifford how the scene between Julia the new secretary was enacted the plaudits that came down in sudden gusts from the time it commenced the vociferous attempt to call us before the curtain at the close of the fourth act abundantly testified I refused to answer the summons but hastened to my dressing room to assume Julia's bridal attire I was myself again or rather I was once more I represented had I found the pertinacious visitant in my apartment I should have dismissed her as unhesitatingly as I threw aside the fictitious embellishment which she compelled me to wear if when I appeared on the stage in the fifth act the audience remarked that Julia had grown mysteriously slender they were at liberty to conclude she had pined away and had become erytholized by her sorrows how I passed through Julia's stormy scene with master Walter the audience told me with unmistakable voices I was no longer panic-stricken master Walter might have led me to the wrong side of the stage or taken prisoner my train he could not now have asserted me I had passed out of the narrow limit to which an actor's malice could reach half an hour before I had stood upon the very brink of failure by a sudden transition of feeling within myself a similar revulsion had been produced upon the audience and their verdict was reversed that verdict we received at the close of the fifth act of the curtain the call had never before imparted to me a sensation of such intense pleasure I needed this marked assurance that I had removed the impression made by my apathetic acting through three weary acts of the play Mr. Davenport escaped the annoyances to which I had been subjected the part of Clifford is not one in which I exhibit the extent of his talents but his fine person mainly bearing and quiet earnest acting one raver it was six months before I wholly recovered from the mental effects of that first night upon a London stage End of Chapter 15 Chapter 16 of Autobiography of an Actress by Anna Cora-Mollett this LibriVox recording is in the public domain reading by Kelly Taylor no ordeal could be severer than the one through which we passed on that first night in London amongst the audience there were not a dozen persons whose hand had ever been clasped ours in friendly greeting even the few to whom we were personally known had been strangers of week before amongst the members of the press and the habituaries of the theatre who play the critic with a fault finding passion for a man must serve his time to every trade save censure critics all already made we had not a single acquaintance consequently we were not prepared for the flattering estimate which appeared in the public journals on the morning after our debut the hunchback was repeated for our second appearance on this occasion the performance was not marred by the diamaniacal possession of the spirit of stage fright Benedict and Beatrice were our next impersonations I quote one of the notices which met our well pleased eyes on the next ensuing morning the great test of a true dramatic artist is Shakespeare many an actor or actress who has acquired the fair name of fame in the ordinary run of characters fails in the attempt to embody the creations of Shakespeare whereas on the contrary an artist who can act Shakespeare can act anything else with ease and success Mrs. Mawit was last night tried by the Shakespearean test and was not found wanting she is an artist there is no mistake about it she has the ring of the genuine metal she can act Shakespeare the play was much ado about nothing and Mrs. Mawit sustained the part of Beatrice she looked charmingly and thoroughly entered the spirit of her part nothing could exceed the playful espliglalee with which she bantered Benedict and the thorough gusto with which she gave the repartee her ringing tinkling laugh too was fascinating exceedingly it was the laugh of genuine enjoyment in the more serious scene too although perhaps she exhibited here and there a tendency to overacting appears to be the great fault of the American school of tragedy she was very fine one touch of feeling makes the whole world can and who that witnessed her indignant denunciation of the wrongers of hero did not feel the truth of the line the forte of Mrs. Mawit is evidently high comedy her Beatrice is the proof of it her success was complete she was well supported by Mr. Davenport who's Benedict albeit perhaps scarcely sufficiently rollicking in the earlier scenes was a well studied gentlemanly line of acting but while all the London papers bestowed elaborate criticism the oracular daily times which leads the editorial van preserved an ominous silence its columns wholly ignored our two Republican existence I do not mean to convey the impression that the press with this exception were unanimous in their commendations the morning posts could barely tolerate the American debutantes its praises were of a killing faintness its censures bombastically loud the Athenium at the onset of our career had an odd but caressing mode of chiding wrapping all its bitters up in sugar plums I was pronounced pleasant but wrong designated as a rose without a thorn a bee without a sting and charged with honeydew incipity I presume in time the wished for thorns sprouted from the rose stem the unobtruded sting gave some evidence of existence for before I left London the Athenium became one of our warmest advocates the examiner usually an austere critic bestowed upon us some high economists until the production of fashion then upon my offending head it poured innumerable vials of wrath the American nation it indignantly declared had crowned their country woman with honor for a production which would have subjected Mrs. Trollop to the penalty of tar and feathers our engagement of six weeks came to a close on the morning after my benefit our last night the potentious silence of the daily times was unexpectedly broken it suddenly discovered that two American performers were actually fulfilling a successful engagement at the princess's theater and condescendingly honored them with a laudatory notice henceforth our performances were regularly chronicled in its columns the mysterious waking up for a time remained as incomprehensible to us as the long slumber at a dinner party given by Mr. McCready we became acquainted with Mr. Oxenford the theatrical critic of this influential journal a species of half-friendships fraying up out of the introduction and lasted for several years Mr. Oxenford said to me one day would you like to know how the daily times chance to notice you after giving you the go by through your first engagement I replied that there had been a few subjects upon which my curiosity had been so much excited consequently the information would be particularly interesting you're indebted to a friend he answered to what friend to the Earl of Carl Lyle Mr. Oxenford then told me that he had always lacked faith in America's ability to produce theatrical genius of high order making Miss Cushman an exemption to the sweeping skepticism when he heard of the new American artist in England he thought it too great a bore to see them a note from the Earl of Carl Lyle induced him to visit the theater on my benefit night the contents of this note he did not repeat but I presume it requested for us an impartial criticism Henry Clay's letter to the Earl of Carl Lyle with one of my own were I believe enclosed in the Earl's missive to the editor of the Times it was then to our own beloved and distinguished countrymen not wholly a foreign nobleman that we owed our indebtedness for this important service our engagement at the princesses was to be followed by the appearance of Mr. McCready a proposition was made to us by Mr. Henry Wallach stage manager that we should consent to a engagement and act in conjunction with Mr. McCready in the place which he produced this arrangement would have afforded me invaluable opportunities of improvement in my vocation but my personations had been confined to the Juliet's, Rosalind's and Desdemona's Mr. McCready required the support of a lady Macbeth Queen Constance and Queen Catherine these were embodiments which I had not the temerity to attempt at least not until I had devoted to them study of months or rather years I was obliged reluctantly to forgo the proposed distinction Mrs. Kimball fulfilled the place for which I confessedly had not indispensable qualifications our personal acquaintance with Mr. McCready was the source of mingled gratification and advantage a dinner was given at his house for the express purpose of making us equated with persons of literary, editorial and social influence nor was this the only means by which he generously endeavored to promote our professional interest our second engagement in London took place at the Olympic Theatre Royal Mr. Davidson was the nominal manager the name of the actual Lycee and manager, a gentleman of family and high literary standing was withheld from the public Mr. Brooke had just made his triumphant London debut at this theatre during his temporary absence in the provinces we appeared in the Lady of Lyon the manager of the Olympic not finding the author's demand was as exorbitant as it was deemed by the manager of the princesses but the former was a dramatist himself the play was repeated six successive nights shortly after Mr. Brooke's return we re-engaged and appeared in the same plays Mr. Davenport and Mr. Brooke sustaining characters of equal importance this combination took place for the first representation of a tragedy in five acts Mr. Henry Spicer Exquire author of Judge Jeffries Honesty etc entitled The Lords of Ellingham the production of that play formed the principal feature of our engagement Mr. Davenport's portrayal of the confiding noble-minded Dudley Latimer won much applause Mr. Brooke rendered the audacious villainy of Launcery almost continuously captivating the death of Edith in the second act ends a highly wrought scene full of thrilling effective situations I forgot the wisdom of reserve's strength on the first night and made too lavish an expenditure in attempting to reach my dressing room immediately after the death I fell from exhaustion and striking a sharp corner cut a deep gash near the left temple fortunately the flow of blood restored me to consciousness the first sound I heard on recovering the call boys summons of Edith you are called in the closing scene of the play Edith is brought in on a beer to strike horror to the heart of her remorseless perpetrator the beer could not be carried on the stage for at a certain point it is necessary that a veil should be lifted and Edith's face disclosed the manager hearing of my accident was very anxious to procure a substitute but there was no time and the discovery of a change by the audience would have endangered the effectiveness of the last act and perhaps the success of the play my head was hastily bound up and I was laid upon the beer the gasliness of countenance produced by the accident was particularly appropriate to the end to me solemn occasion but when Dudley lifted the veil and beheld the bandaged head and the crimson drops that still trickled amongst Edith's hair he uttered an involuntary exclamation of horror not set down in the book the departed spirit of Edith must have returned at the sound for she whispered reassurally through half opened lips it's nothing I've not much hurt the accident did not prevent my responding to the call of the audience when the play ended though with bandaged brows nor did it preclude my appearance in the same character on the ensuing night in spite of an unbecoming wound that could not be concealed by the most ingenious arrangement of curls but this accident is a trifle to those which occur every day in the profession there are instances of men's continuing a performance on the stage after they have had a finger or a thumb accidentally shot off the putting out of an eye or the breaking of a limb might possibly be considered disabling but minor calamities would be looked upon as too trivial to frustrate the enjoyment of a despotic audience our engagement at the Olympic continued until the close of the theater for the summer vacation the entourage of friendships will render any locality a home the most genial of social surrounding soon made us cease to feel like strangers in London in his exquisite book on Italy remarks it is well to be shari of names it is an ungrateful return for hospitable attentions to print the conversation of your host etc. etc. the temptation to disregard this admonition is great in proportion to the wisdom of the rule from which it emanates I have endeavored in spite of some natural inclinations to the contrary to adhere to the precept except when the names of parties mentioned are in some way associated with my own history it is in this connection I may speak of Mary and William Howitt their names had been familiar words from my childhood what a moment of delight I thought it when I could exchange my imperfect imaginary portraits of these celebrities for charming realities we first met at a literary soiree I knew that Mary Howitt was present as my eyes glanced round the room in search of her they rested upon a lady whose almost quaker like simplicity of garb landly serene countenance and earnest manner in conversation made me exclaim internally that must be Mary Howitt a few moments afterwards when we were presented to each other I found I was not mistaken her personal acquaintance with members of the dramatic profession had awakened an interest in the stage but in what subject affecting human welfare does not Mary Howitt take a ready interest out of what unpretending or would not the alchemy of her philanthropic mind strike a vein of gold our accidental introduction ripened into an attachment at least on my side we were constantly thrown into communication and Mary's Howitt's visits generally extended to some hours ushered in my white days she proposed to add mine to the collection of memoirs that had already flowed from her graphic pen and desired us to furnish her with materials in compliance with this request my early history was related principally by Mr. Mollett the memoir which she used to pronounce a labor of love was published in the people's journal William and Mary Howitt were at that time the editors our intercourse with Mary Howitt was greatly enhanced by the society of her gentle artist daughter Anna Mary Howitt she had not then contributed to the literary world her entertaining book entitled the art student in Munich it might truly be said of this lovely girl the disposition she inherits which render fair gifts fairer she at once resembled and differed from her mother in character her philanthropy was as large but more discriminating her energies were more concentrated her perceptions of the beautiful and true are they not identical were even quicker her friendships were built upon rocks those of her mother had now and then a hasty foundation in sand who that has once known this youthful artist authorists can forget the peculiar fascination of her dove-like ways the frank simplicity which impressed one with a sense of reserved power to be used at need the modest sensitiveness that shrank from display the apparent unconsciousness of her own rich gifts she always reminded me of words worth description of that Lucy who dwelt alone beside the banks of dove although in one respect she differed there were many to praise her and many to love another friendship highly prized and warmly responded to and leaned upon with a loving sense and its lasting strength was that of a friend of the Howards Camilla Crosslin Nay Camilla Tumlin a celebrated as novelist poetist and editress Mrs. Crosslin addressed to me the following poem one of the most valued of the effusions to which my name has been attached my perspective return to America had formed the principal subject of our conversation to Anacora mollet blow western wind a forth the wave blow western wind still and hold at bay the envious barp that seeks its sail to fill when air the threatened day arrives we dream of it with pain that calls the bird a passage home across the Atlantic main a bird a pearl a lily flower like and be to something fresh from nature's hand in mystic purity and protein should be types I wean of thee richly gifted by triple rights and triple crowns above the herd uplifted thy perfect beauty not the theme on which to fondly warm for common clay has tain here now the Spartan Helen's form and yet that beauty had a spell which unto all could reach when first I clasp thy hand and heard the music of thy speech it stayed the words upon my tongue my foot upon the floor I could be gazed as I me thinks had never gazed before we were not strangers oh no no and cordial was thy glass and yet all well nigh forbade my hand returned the clasp I knew thee by a knowledge deep that of the printed page but not as yet had I beheld thy triumphs of the stage thy blanch was still the hearsay thing thy Pauline but a dream and Shakespeare's women dwelt apart and not in life might seem far from conventional cold that tell of paint in glare and all the playhouse tricks of trade and players studied care thy poet's soul can mold and bring the poet's thought to life as when Italian Juliet loves and dies a hapless wife or chase Virginia tyrant doomed amid her household gods most desolate yet undismaid by Roman Lictor's rods to goodness, greatness love and fate thy heart responsive bends thy woman's nature is the spell that with thy genius blends the spell that binds our heart to thee with chains more strong than steel and girds thee round with British love and friends both warm and leal who bids the western breeze to blow a thwart the Atlantic main and envy the broad land the right to lure thee back again five years have added their daily strength to the bond of affection that links Camilla Crosston with all my most cherished English associations. Her name has ever a harp-like sound in my ears and brings back her own tones a voice of holy sweetness with her common words to grace. There are high arguments in her life to disprove the supposed incompatibility of literary pursuits with home avocations more emphatically womanly. These are manifested in the smiling patience with which she has encountered a sea of trials who's tied but ebbed to flow again, the simple dignity with which she receives her talents, the gracious household ways that render beautiful her domestic existence but I may not linger upon this theme though it is one fraught with so many holy and touching memories. At the Theatre Royal Merlebone, Mr. McCready played his London farewell previous to his departure for America. The engagement was one of the most brilliant on record. Mrs. Warner occupied the managerial chair at this theatre for several seasons. Her untiring exertions and Mr. McCready's advent drew a high class of audience to the Merlebone. The theatre is situated at the west end of London. Other stars of note succeeded Mr. McCready and Mrs. Warner and the audience which they first attracted became permanent. An advantageous offer was made to us by the Merlebone management and accepted. We opened in as you like it. Our engagement of 12 nights was followed by a re-engagement of 12 more and immediately after a third engagement. We became established favourites with the audience and a proposition was made to us to become permanent stars of the establishment for the next five months appearing every night. I ought to mention that the most imminent London stars eschew the Comet-like course adopted in the United States if their attraction is considered sufficiently strong they engage for the season. Mr. and Mrs. Keane were at this period the thick stars of the Haymarket Theatre. The 120 odd nights which were now to be occupied at the same locality demanded a supply of new parts in two or three instances the choice of play was left to the management. I, not possessing Mr. Davenport's remarkable versatility which enabled him to embody with equal ease an Othello or a Yankee a Cardinal or a Sailor was consequently the sufferer. On one occasion the manager selected a drama by Searle entitled The Shadow upon the Wall the character of the heroine had been very successfully represented by Mrs. Kealy but it was as much out of my range as Lady Macbeth would have been out of her. I endeavored in vain to idealize the cottage Searle. I liked to deal with subtleties in my delineation and the breadth of melodrama eluded my reach. At one climax of the play Searle wandering through a deep glen beholds the shadow of the murderer on a ruined wall with a loud shriek she stands that is to say it is her duty to stand transfixed in an attitude of horror. I was too nearsighted to distinguish the shadow and it could not be certain when it appeared for I occupied the stage alone. A person was stationed behind the scenes near one of the entrances to apprise me in a whisper when the shadow came on but not being wrought up to the requisite pitch of terror by the announcement in a gentle whisper that it was time to be frightened the only scream I could execute was a very dubious exclamation that probably indicated nothing more distressing pinch. The attitude of horror was an equally tame and abiable expression of alarm. The shadow scene consequently lost all its effect though I am told that it was particularly startling when Mrs. Keely enacted Searle. I found while studying the character that it was not one in which I was likely to advance my reputation. It occurred to me to write in a few speeches which I could render telling in their delivery as I hoped they drew down plaudits of the audience who were ignorant of the interpolations I was congratulating myself at the conclusion of the play upon the dexterous as I thought introductions to my surprise and confusion I was informed that the author was in the theater and desired to be presented to me. He had witnessed the performance had heard the trashy lines that I had passed off as his and probably in his heart meditated some condom punishment for my presumption. I would have done anything reasonable or unreasonable to avoid the introduction but there was no escape. When the offended dramatist was brought behind the scenes his frigid bearing and stern rebuking countenance did not tend to reestablish my self-possession he looked as though he longed to say, where did you get those fine clap-trap speeches with which you thought to fit to interlarred my play and I wanted to answer in a penitential tone pardon what I have spoke etc. But we were neither of us standing in Madame de Genlis Palace of Truth and we could only guess at each other's thoughts. In that faculty my transatlantic origin gave me the advantage. I read such unqualified condemnations in his mind that I never afterwards to utter more than that down by the author. In spite of my shortcomings as Cecily the play was rendered sufficiently attractive by Mr. Davenport's thrilling personation of Luke to be repeated several times the critics courteously ignored my failure but that did not render the mortification less poignant to myself. When the season was at its height Armand was placed in rehearsal. It had first been perused and canvassed by four distinguished London critics. They were authors themselves and three of them dramatic authors. The play was revised by one of their number or rather it was marked abundantly for my revision. A speech was pointed out which bears a strong resemblance to a passage in Byron's Sardinopolis. The presentation was an unintentional one. I proposed expunging the lines entirely but was overruled by the judgments of my critics. I next attempted to alter them but the amendment was not approved. They finally decided that the passage would stand undefended as it was originally written. The play was put upon the stage after many laborious rehearsals the scenery and stage appointments were all of the most closely character. The cast was unexceptionable. All the actors lent their hearty cooperation. The play could only fail through its own intrinsic want of merit. I pass over the days of nervous unrest, a feverish anxiety during its preparation. For an American and for a woman to aim at double distinction as actress and dramatist before a London tribunal was to say the least a bold experiment. On the morning of the representation my flagging spirits were suddenly raised by a note from a gentleman distinguished as a divine man of letters and a member of parliament Mr. W. J. Fox. It accompanied the manuscript of Armand which he had requested the privilege of reading. The note contained these words. Dear Mrs. Mollett, thanks for the sight of this. Tis not immortal to command success but you have assuredly deserved it. Your sincerely W. J. Fox. Many a time that day was this precious little document re-perused and if I read it with glistening eyes and a swelling heart was not the weakness a pardonable one. Armand was produced at the theatre royal Mar-le-Bonne January 18, 1849. The theatre was crammed from pit to dome. The faces of well-known London literati were conspicuously scattered about the house. As soon as the curtain rose this intelligence was brought to my dressing room. But for the note of Mr. Fox I should probably have had another attack of stage fright and by that fatal panic ensured the failure of the play. To be told from such a source that I deserve success sustained and inspired me. At the close of the second act the actors who had assembled in a body around the wings to witness the representation assured me that the play was safe. The audience were in such a capital humor and so attentive. The impression of an audience is always a gigantic step toward success for the crowd of seeing as sweetly as the lark when neither is attended. With a thrill of delight I watched the green curtain fall upon the fifth act. After I once began to feel my full responsibilities as an act artist the nightly descent of this welcome green curtain became one of the existence. Always gave me the delicious sense of trial past of duty done and brought the calm of well earned repose. At our summons before the curtain when we were told in cheers that the double victory had been achieved Mr. Davenport led me through a perfect part here of scattered flowers and garlands. Amongst them I recognized a delicate wreath of classic form made of fresh ivy leaves. I knew that had been woven by no hands save that of Mary Howitz artist daughter. It was her own favorite headdress in society. To many another floral band and bouquet were attached the names of ever to be remembered London friends. Reviews of the play with extracts appeared in the next morning in almost every edition. Their tenor may be inferred from the fact that 22 of these notices were reprinted upon the ample play bills during the run of the play. The Daily Times gave a long and complimentary notice with extracts. The notice in the examiner was written by W. J. Fox MP and I quote on account of the high source from which it emanated. Marlebone Theater On Thursday night a new play by Mrs. Moet the American actress was produced at this theater with complete and triumphant success. It is entitled Armand or The Peer and the Peasant and the contrast intimated in the second title is wrought out very effectively by scenes and characters displaying the best side of rural life and the profligate manners of the court of Louis 15th. The uncongenial elements are skillfully blended by a plot which makes Blanche the village may queen the unacknowledged daughter of Duke de Richelieu. The Peasant Armand her successful lover not withstanding the disparity of birth and the difficulties interposed by the passion of the monarch himself. The incidents by which this is accomplished have less in themselves than in their combination and they are adapted by the author's purpose with great felicity. We have to overlook some few anachronisms both social and moral for the rapid advancement of Armand to rank in the harmony and the tone of thought and sentiment ascribed both to him and Blanche properly belong to a post-revolutionary period in French history until their juxtaposition with corruptions of the monarchy is so happily rendered subservient to the poetical unity of the drama as to silence criticism. The result is a play of lively intense and continuous which is more easily characterized than described. A profound philosophy of human nature the terrific war of Stormy's passion and the magnificent burst of poetry cannot be there. Indeed, where are they saved in the few greatest masters of dramatic magic but we have instead living and suggestive outlines of characters, scenes of pathos whose power is testified by the emotions of the audience and a pervading simplicity truth and loveliness both of thought and language which act as a charm and are full of fascination that it is which leaves the most distinct and abiding impression. Over the whole though dangerous themes have sometimes to be dealt with there is an air of purity, refinement and tenderness the most religious parent might take his child to such a play and yet the common craving for theatrical excitement runs no risk of being ungratified. Mrs. Marwet is too little known to London by goers for it to be generally understood how completely she would be identified with her own heroine. In the simplicity, sweetness, earnestness the meek endurance, the moral energy, the devoted love there seems no acting but the direct and spontaneous expression of individual character. There is freshness, beauty and reality which the most elaborate art cannot rival. Hope the charm of this personation together with the rare fact of success both as actress and authorists may lead to better opportunities than have yet occurred for Mrs. Marwet's winning a just appreciation of her merits from metropolitan audiences. Mr. Davenport rendered able support to the piece as Armand the artisan. He maintained a frank manly bearing without degenerating into and to our perceptions without that transatlantic exaggeration which haunts the imagination of some of our critics who might find the reality nearer home. All the actors and actresses engage appear to exert themselves as hardly as it proves successfully for the general effect and Ms. Villers discerns a special notice for her lively delineation of an affected page of the old regime The play was well got up and some of the scenery was highly creditable. The authorists at the conclusion was almost smothered with bouquets and wreaths and the reception of the play every evening was announced with acclamations. Armand was enacted twenty-one nights. The title of the play in America had been Armand or the Child of the People. This second title could not obtain its importance in London and was changed to Pierre and the Peasant. Various passages which had been pronounced upon the stage in New York and Boston were expunged by the English licensor on account of their anti-monarchical tendency. They were necessarily omitted in London. Some of them were afterwards restored before a Dublin audience and met with a most uproarious response. Armand was published in London immediately after its first representation. The copies nightly sold at the door of the theatre caused great annoyance to the dramatic representatives of the play. It is a singular fact that if the eye of an actor chances to rest upon an individual in the boxes who is deeply absorbed in a book, and if the actor fancies that book is of the play when performing, he will invariably forget his part though he may have enacted it correctly dozens of times. Sometimes the mere leaf turning of books in the hands of the audience will throw a whole company into confusion and the proctor's voice may be heard vainly attempting to plead the cause of the author. As soon as I discovered this professional peculiarity I endeavored to stop the sale of Armand but unsuccessfully as the English copyright had been sold. An American prompter told me that one night a company to which he was attached were acting a comedy which had been hastily put on the stage. The actors were tolerably perfect in their parts but it chants that an old gentleman sat in the stage box with spectacles on nose pouring over a book evidently intent upon following the play. The sight of this studious individual disconcerted them so much that in the theatrical parlance several struck dead in a few first scenes. The prompter after making vain efforts to unravel the entangled dialogue thought of a stratagem to rid the actors of the confusing presence he knocked at the door of the stage box and after many apologies informed the venerable gentleman within that the prompt book had been accidentally lost and it was feared that the performance could not continue unless indeed he kindly loaned the manager his book. The book was instantly yielded up. The treacherous memories of the company suddenly became fateful and the play proceeded and ended without further interruption. Armand was reproduced before the close of the season and I was offered a benefit. The proceeds of which were devoted to the purchase of a silver vase in commemoration of the London success of the American production. Every seat was engaged long before the appointed night. The largest amount that the theatre would hold when densely crowded being ascertained, the vase was purchased in advance. The presentation took place on the night of the benefit and greatly added to the ecla of the occasion. It was a magnificent vase of silver lined with gold surmounted by a statuette of Shakespeare. The dedication engraved upon one side of the vase states that it is presented to Anna Cora Mallet for her services to the drama as authorists and actress and as a record that worth and genius from every land will ever be honoured in England. The opposite side is inscribed with the following lines from measure for measure. In her youth there is a prone and speechless dialect such as moves men. Besides, she has a prosperous art when she would play with reason and discourse and well she can persuade. Season at the Merlebone closed this year with a production of The Witch-Wife a drama in five acts by Henry Spicer Esquire. It was successfully represented. Mr. Davenport and myself enacted leading characters. The published play is prefaced by a complementary dedication to the personator of the heroine. End of Chapter 16