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Cornell University Library PN 2287.P88W78 3 1924 027 098 288 The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924027098288 From a Photograph by M'hite, N. Y. Frederick Tyrone Power LIVES OF THE PLAYERS TYRONE POWER BY WILLIAM WINTER "It is difficult to render even ordinary justice to living merit without incurring the suspicion of being influenced by partiality, or by motives of a less honorable nature. Yet, as what I shall say of this gentleman, whose friendship I have enioyed for many years, and still possess in unabated cordiality, will be supported by all who are acquainted with him, I am, under no apprehension of suffering by the suggestions of malice." — John Tatloe. Nkw York MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY 1913 t.v. I^^I^OIL COPTEIGHT, 1913, BT WILLIAM WINTER All Bights Reserved ,PabllBliea, ■Pebrnary, 1913 ILLUSTRATIONS Frederick Tyrone Power . Heliotype, Frontispiece The Elder Tyrone Power (1795- 184tl) Facing page 16 Tyrone Power, the Younger, in 1888-'89 " "34 Mme. Fanny Janauschek (1830- 1904.) " "46 Augustin Daly (1838-1899) . . " " 56 Sir Henry Irving (1838r-1905) . . " " 60 Edith Crane, Mrs. Power ..." " 134 TYRONE POWER As Phineas Bouncer, in "The Life of an Actress" . . . . " "40 As Michele, in "Little Italy" . " " 50 As The Marquis of Steyne, in "Becky Sharp" . . . . " "70 As Cotmsellor von Kellar, in "Magda" " "76 As Judas of Kerioth, in "Mary ofMagdala" . . . . " "80 As Ulysses, in "Ulysses" . . " " 86 8 ILLUSTRATIONS As Lonamanda, in "The Redskin" : Facing page 98 As Giant Despair, in "The Chris- tian Pilgrim" . . . . " " 108 As Mister Robert Smith, The Drainman, in "The Servant in the House" " "118 As Damiel, in "Thais" ..." " 124. ^ As Marcus Brutus, in "Julius Caesar" " "142 As Marcus Brutus, in "Julius Cffisar" " "158 "Tliat every like is not the same, Ocesar, The heart of Brutus yearns to think upon ! " "The Sanctuary," Power's Home at Isle-aux-Noix, Province of Quebec, Canada " "166 Mrs. Tyrone Power ..." " 172 PREFACE This book contains the first of a Series of Lives op the Players rvhich I have undertaken to write, rvith the design of recording and commemorating, chiefly if not exclusively, the achievements of important actors noro living. I have chosen Tyrone Power as the subject of the first of these projected biographies because his life has been one of exceptionally interesting adventure, in some respects as romantic as even that of Edmund Kean, — and for the still more persuasive reason that the example provided by his resolute perseverance against many and stalwart obstacles and his patient endurance of much and grievous hardship and disappointment has enlisted my sympathy as one that is worthy to be commended to respect and emulation. Inquiry and observance relative to his career have shown me that he has continuously cherished a high ideal of the actor's art, and sedulously wished and labored to do fine things, to merit a high rank, to dignify the Theatre, and to benefit Society, and therefore I believe him to be one of the actors of this transitional period who especially deserve to be cheered, encouraged, and celebrated. There are a fern actors on our Stage at this time who occupy a more conspicuous position than Tyrone Power has yet obtained, but there is no contemporary actor who, by integrity of artistic purpose, steadfast devotion to a noble ideal, self-sacrifice for the sake of being right and doing right in the pursuit of his vocation, and furthermore by splendid acting, has shown himself better entitled to sympathetic recognition and practical public acclaim. He has yet to prove his incontestable right to be enrolled with 9 10 PREFACE the great tragedians of an earlier generation, not yet for- gotten, but he has already accomplished enough to prove that he is an actor of the artistic lineage of Forrest, Brooke, Dillon, Edwin Booth, Barrett, and John McCulloughj — possessing, indeed, an individuality distinct from that of either of those leaders, but endowed with faculties and animated by a spirit much the same as theirs, and naturally qualified for conquest in the same field in which they gained their great renown. In suitability to heroic char- acter, in vital humanity, and in robust syle his acting has shown him to be closely akin to McCullough, and no indi- cation of nature could be more auspicious than that. I believe that Tyrone Power mill justify my conviction of his worth and my confident expectation of his triumph. If my belief is well founded this book may perhaps help to smooth a thorny path. If not, at least it is a slight contribution to the history of our Stage. In the composi- tion of it I have been prompted by the same impulse of kindness and the same sense of justice that prompted me, many years ago, to write my first Life of Joseph Jef- ferson, my story of Edwin Booth in Twelve Dramatic Characters, my Stage Life of Mary Anderson, and other kindred works, and I should be glad indeed if the pen which helped those players, in other and distant days, should again be serviceable to an authentic actor in Legiti- mate Drama, and at a time when Legitimate Drama imperatively needs all the support which it can possibly obtain. W. W. New Brighton, Staten Island, JV. Y. January 15, 1913. TYRONE POWER. PARENTAL OPPOSITION. The pertinacity with which Age, while living its own life, persists in striving to live also the life of Youth, interfering with the young and embarrassing their activity, though sometimes it proves advantageous, is more often the cause of painful conflict and deep discontent. Biog- raphy presents many examples of injudicious opposition, by parents or guardians, — over-con- fident in their vaunted experience, — ^to the natural and rightful ambitions and endeavors of beginners in life. Thoughtful counsel should always be considered by young persons who are entering on pathways of action which as yet are strange to them, but there comes a time when the acquisition of experience should be left to the individual. Parents do well to advise, but their sons and daughters must live their own lives: their parents cannot do it for 11 12 TYRONE POWER them. Young aspirants for success on the stage have, in particular, often met with irrational, embittering opposition, at the out- set, which, if it had been allowed to prevail, would have stayed the development of valuable talents and deprived society of much benefit, Charles Kean, because he refused to become a cadet in the service of the East India Com- pany, and, instead, chose to be an actor, was disowned by his angry father, the renowned Edmund Kean, who might have made his way smooth, from the first. Edwin Booth, whose natural propensity for Acting early became obvious, was discouraged by his father, the eminent Junius Brutus Booth, who earnestly wished to debar him from that pursuit, — ^in which, eventually, he became illustrious. Mary Anderson, whose genius turned as naturally toward the Stage as a flower turns toward the sunlight, and who became one of the noblest and loveliest figures in the Theatre of her time, was, at first, opposed by her affectionate, solicitous mother, when wishing to become an actress, and later was solemnly and sternly FLUENT ABUSE 13 opposed by her loved and revered guardian. Father Anton, a Roman Catholic priest, who abhorred the Theatre, and whose harsh, unfor- giving disapprobation of her choice embarrassed her progress and caused her deep and lasting grief. Richard Mansfield, when, as a boy, he ventured to participate in a private theatrical performance, was contemptuously declared by his mother, the eccentric Mme. Rudersdorf, to be "making a fool of himself" ; and when, later, he formally adopted the Theatre as a profes- sion was discarded by her, deprived of an allowance for his support, and abandoned, to beg or starve, as the case might be, in that vast city of London which, to a person without money, is indeed a wilderness. "My mother," said Mansfield, "abused me in seven languages, of all of which she was mistress." Yet Mme. Rudersdorf, long eminent as a public singer and performer, had lived by means of the Stage, and she owed everything to it. Those are only a few of the notable examples which might be cited of unwise opposition, at a critical time, to the intellectual propensity of 14 TYRONE POWER budding talent. In each case it caused much needless trouble and sorrow, but in neither case did it cause such afflicting hardship as resulted from it to the subject of this brief memoir, an actor who, at this time, in the field of Shakespearean and Legitimate Drama, is the chief hope of the American Stage — Tyrone POWEE. THE ELDER TYRONE POWER. Frederick Tyrone Power, born in London May 2, 1869, is of dramatic lineage, his grand- father and his father and mother having been members of the dramatic profession. His grandfather, Tyrone Power, the Elder (1795- 1841), famous, in his day, in the line of acting signified by such parts as Murtoch Delany, Denms Brulgruddery , Phelim O'Flannigan, Captain O'Cutter, Major O'Flaherty, Tim Moore, Foigard, Rory O'More, and Sir Lucius O'Trigger, was esteemed by his contemporaries as fully the equal of "Jack" Johnstone and even of Charles Connor, — the latter of whom had been regarded as perfection in Irish THE ELDER TYRONE POWER 15 Drama, — and there is every reason to believe he was the best impersonator of Irish gentle- men and droll Irish peasants that the modern Stage has known. The elder Tyrone Power made three visits to America, — the first in 1833, the second in 1836-'37, the third in 1840-'41,— acting in many cities and prospering in all, so that he accumulated a considerable fortune. Of his first visit he wrote a particular account, partly narrative and partly diary, covering the months from July 16, 1833, to July 14, 1835, which was published (in this country by Messrs. Carey, Lea & Blanchard), in 1836, in two volumes, under the title of "Impressions of America." His first voyage, from Liverpool to New York, made in the "steam-packet" Europe, occupied thirty-five days. Power's first appearance in this country was made at the old Park Theatre, New York, on August 28, 1833, on which occasion he acted Sir Patrick O'Plempo, in James Kenney's comedy of "The Irish Ambassador," and also appeared in "Teddy the Tiler." His success was decisive. On September 6 he appeared 16 TYRONE POWER as McShane, in "The Nervous Man," which was then first acted in America. "In all of these characters," says Ireland, mentioning Brulgrud- dery. Major O'Flaherty, Paudeen O'Baferty, and McShane, "Mr. Power made so great an impression that he entirely eclipsed all prede- cessors in the assumption of Irish character, and rendered it an impossibility as yet [1860] for any successors to be called his equal." Tyrone Power, the Elder, was born in the county of Waterford, Ireland, on November 2, 1795. Ireland gives the year as 1797, but, as nearly as I can ascertain, the former date is the correct one. His father died soon after- ward. His widowed mother, with her children, then removed into Wales and settled near Cardiff. Tyrone's first attempt at acting was made in the not distant town of Monmouth, in 1811, when, as a member of a strolling com- pany, he appeared as Orlando, in "As You Like It." His youthful fancy for the dramatic profession appears to have been enkindled in part by emulation, in part by the laughing blue eyes of an unusually pretty girl who appeared From an Old Steel Engraving THE ELDER TYRONE POWER (179S-1841) AN AFRICAN APPOINTMENT 17 as Rosalind. Ireland, overlooking this early attempt, says that he "made his first histrionic attempt in the Isle of Wight, in 1815, as Alonzo, in 'Pizarro.' " That performance was given at Newport, in the Isle of Wight, under the management of Henry Thornton and his partner. Ford. Soon after his juvenile attempt at acting yoimg Power gave up the stage, at his mother's wish, and accepted an appointment in the British commissariat service, in South Africa, where he remained for a considerable time, but on his return to England he formally adopted the stage, attempting characters in high and light comedy and in tragedy. Among the parts he then assumed were Mercutio, Benedickj Young Rapid, and Charles Surface. He was not successful. Ireland says: "... In 1817 he opened in Dublin as Romeo and Jeremy Diddler. In 1818 he retired until 1822, when he made his first appearance in London, at the Olympic Theatre, and subsequently played at Arnold's Opera House, the Lyceum, the Adelphi, and Covent Garden, where he made his debut as Rolando, in 'The Honey- 18 TYRONE POWER moon,' and where, in 1827, he first played an original Irish character — viz., O'Shaughnessy, in Peake's farce of 'The £100 Note,' with such eclat that his fame was established as the only legitimate representative of an Irishman on the British Stage, though it was not until his absence in America revealed to the public how far superior he was to every Hibernian competitor that he rose to that high pitch of popular esteem and favor with which he was overwhelmed on his return, and which ever after continued to attend him. . . . "Mr. Power was about five feet, eight inches, in height, with light hair and complexion, blue eyes, and a neat, compact figure, inclining to stoutness. His mercurial temperament, his genial but refined humor, the merry twinkle of his eye, the rich tones of his voice, his skill in music, the grace and heartiness of his dancing, his happy variations of brogue to the different shades of character he represented — in fact, every requisite that nature and art could bestow, combined to make him the most perfect comedian of his class ever known on the American Stage, while his personal char- acter, so far as we have been informed, commanded the respect of all." Power was a versatile writer and, besides many contributions to the periodicals of his time and his "Impressions of America," he wrote and published two novels, "The King's LOST AT SEA 19 Secret" and "The Lost Heir," and, among others, the plays of "St. Patrick's Eve," "The Married Lovers," "Etiquette Run Mad," "How to Pay the Rent," "Paddy Carey," and "O'Flanagan and the Fairies." His last appearances on the stage occurred at the Park Theatre, New York, March 9, 1841, as Gerald Pepper, in "The White Horse of the Peppers," and as Morgan Rattler, in his own play of "How to Pay the Rent." On March 11, 1841, in company with a much prized comrade, Lord Fitzroy George Charles Lennox, Tyrone Power, the Elder, sailed from New York, aboard the steamer President, Cap- tain M. M. Keen commanding, bound for Liverpool. The ship was overtaken, on the night of March 13, by a terrific tempest, and she never came to land. Power had been entreated by Edwin Forrest, the tragedian, who was one of his ardent admirers, not to trust himself aboard that vessel, but the comedian smiled at his friend's presentiment of disaster, and persisted in undertaking the voyage. The President, a vessel of 1,600 tons burden, had 20 TYRONE POWER crossed the Atlantic three times; she was 273 feet long; in that period she was regarded as the "huge Atlantic steamer," "that gigantic vessel"; she had proved seaworthy, and there seemed no reason to expect for her anything more than the usual and inevitable dangers of navigation. Power's comrade, — who, indeed, had postponed his home-going ui order to accompany the actor, naturally desirous of such genial companionship, — earnestly urged him to embark. But Forrest's sombre presentiment was justified. It is probable that the ship foundered not far beyond Nantucket Shoals. She is said to have been "spoken" on the morn- ing of the 12th by the ship Orpheus, Captain Cole, New York for Liverpool, — and was never seen or heard of again. 123 persons perished in her loss. Lennox, a lieutenant in the British military service, and in only his twenty-first year, was the second son of the Duke of Rich- mond, the fifth bearer of that title, and thus a descendant of King Charles the Second. The bereaved Duke, remembering his son's attach- ment to Power, afterward evinced practical MR. AND MRS. HAROLD POWER 21 good-will toward the dead comedian's family, and it was in consequence of his recommenda- tion that the eldest son, William, was given a commission in the Army by Lord Melbourne, then Prime Minister. MR. AND MRS. HAROLD POWER. Tyrone Power, early in life, had made a happy marriage, wedding Miss Gilbert, daugh- ter of W. J. Gilbert, Esquire, of Newport, Monmouthshire, Wales. Their family com- prised four boys and four girls. William Tyrone Power prospered in his military voca- tion. He was first stationed at Gibraltar; he served through the Crimean War, and ulti- mately he was knighted by Queen Victoria. Maurice, who adopted the Stage, but was not successful, died, at Bath, England, September 1, 1849. The interest of Richmond, who had befriended William, was also serviceable to Frederick, who became a mining engineer and who amassed a large fortune. Harold was given an appointment in the London Post Office, and through his position there he became 22 TYRONE POWER acquainted with Francis Cowley Burnand, the dramatist; George Du Maurier, the artist and novelist, and William S. Gilbert. His friend- ship with Gilbert was, in later life, of substan- tial value to him. The good fortune which accrued to William, Frederick, and Harold Power was directly con- sequent on the fame of their father as an actor, combined with his spotless reputation as a man; yet, — such is the potent influence of snob- bery, — though they had obtained advancement,, position, and wealth through association with the Stage, those persons were no sooner socially established than they manifested the liveliest antipathy toward it. Harold Power, son of the elder Tyrone, nevertheless adopted the Theatre as a profes- sion, after his brother Maurice had failed in it, but being ashamed of the vocation appeared under the name of Harold Page. He did not make any particular mark as an actor, and eventually he and his wife (Ethel Levenu) per- formed in an Entertainment, — such, to some extent, as had been given first by the great "AT HOME" ENTERTAINMENTS 23 comedian, Samuel Foote (1720?-1777), then by- Charles Mathews, the Elder (1776-1835), and subsequently by his son, Charles Mathews, the Younger (1803-1878). In that they proved successful. Mr. and Mrs. Harold Power visited America in 1877 and made a remunerative tour, giving their Entertainment in many cities. Their first appearance in New York was effected on November 3, that year, at Chicker- ing Hall. The Entertainment, styled "Mr. and Mrs. Power At Home," was composed of bits of clever acting linked by merry colloquy. It was divided into two parts. The First Part included a humorous Lecture on Lecturers, facetiously illustrating and ridiculing the varie- ties of prosing, — the astronomical, the statisti- cal, the nautical, the chemical, etc., — in which lecturers customarily indulge, and a piquant satire on Private Theatricals. The Lecture was the work of William S. Gilbert, — who had not then become famous as a dramatist, — and Harold Power; and Mr. Power delivered it fluently and effectively, without using notes or employing auxiliaries. The satire was pun- 24 TYRONE POWER gently conveyed in successive impersonations of an Old Lady, an Importunate Child, and an Impudent Parrot, the changes from one to another being carried on with felicitous skiU of mimicry and exhilarating mirthfulness of spirit, by the one performer, Mr. Power, who, incidentally, also sang a "Postilion's Song," introducing the cockney-French of an irate English traveller with specially amusing effect. The Second Part consisted of a one-act play, by W. S. GUbert, entitled "An Old Story Retold," and in the performance of it Mrs. Power, whose animal spirits were remarkable, heartily and genially cooperated with her husband. The whole representation passed within two hours. No dependence was placed on either scenery or furniture, the stage being bare, except during the representation of the little play, the setting for which was extremely simple. I remember the occasion of the first appearance of Mr. and ]\Irs. Harold Power in New York as one of unalloyed pleasure. The public has seen vari- ous entertainers since that time, but none more entirely agreeable. OUR TYRONE 25 OUR TYRONE.— "ORANGE RANCHING." It was not unnatural, considering his ances- try, that Tyrone Power, the Younger (he has never used, professionally, his first name, Fred- erick), should evince dramatic talent and form the purpose of going on the stage; yet when he did so the consequences were such that it might have been supposed he had committed an atrocious crime. "You would have thought," — Power said to me, relating his experiences, — "that I had tried to do a murder when I said I wanted to be an actor. My uncle. Sir William, once asked me, while I was on a visit to him, in Ireland, what I meant to be when I grew up, and when I answered 'An actor!' he was mightily miffed. 'Don't ever let your Uncle Fred' (we were supposed to have great expectations from Uncle Frederick, who was very wealthy) — 'Don't ever let your Uncle Fred hear you say so, — or your father, either!' Both of them did hear me say so, however, and I was immediately taken from school, at Dtdwich College (that's where I got all the 26 TYRONE POWER education I ever had), and packed off to Florida, to work on a ranch and learn the business of growing oranges. I learned a lot of things there, but nothing about oranges, and I had a sweet time, — yes, very; such a time as I'd like a son of mine to have, if I intended him to be a pirate!" The foreman of the ranch in Florida on which young Power, — he was then only sixteen years of age, — was thus summarily and cruelly placed proved to be a savage, drunken brute, and the workmen employed by him were ruf- fians. The lad was instructed in the methods of orange culture by being made to clean the dwelling house, make up beds, scrub floors, and carry out garbage from the kitchen, — in short, by being made a menial. Worse indig- nities were put upon him, for when the fore- man and his vile underlings found that he refused to drink whiskey they would, by way of obtaining amusement, bind him, hand and foot, force him to swallow liquor by pouring it into his mouth, and finally, when he had been made drunk, unbind and turn him loose, PATERNAL HARSHNESS 27 in order to make merry over his crazy behavior. Such depravity might ahnost seem incredible, were it not for "every day's report of wrong and outrage" and the fact that, unhappily, of all animals on earth, Man is the most capable of bestiality and has shown himself the most effi- cient in all manner of ferocities. Letters which the boy wrote to his relatives in England, implor- ing to be released from his frightful servitude, were usually intercepted, but a few of them reached their destination. "This," said Power, when relating these facts, "I afterward learned, and_^so that my father, saying they were ^y Hall, N. Y. TYRONE POWER AS LONAWANDA, IN "THE REDSKIN" THE REDSKIN'S NATURE 99 Sheanauguas wife. At that point Lonawanda interposed, with the announcement that Mata- wagnon was slain by his own imperial hand. A combat subsequently occurred, between Niatcma and Sheanaugua^ in which the former brave, — despairing of love and honor, — per- mitted himself to be slain. Stage exposition of that melancholy tale proved such as could be viewed with compos- ure. The summary proceeding of Lonawanda toward Matawagnon caused a ripple of dis- quietude, but that was only momentary; for it did not escape observation that Matawagnon made himself very unpleasant, — indulging in taunts, alluding to Adulola as "a pale face," and expressing impolite doubts as to her paternity; — and indignities such as those are never tamely endured by the Boston Indian. Power, fully comprehending the Redskin's nature, of course manifested deep sensibility to those aspersions. The public has not at any time gazed on a more acutely sensitive Indian chieftain; nor, unless the actor had worn a nose ring, could he possibly have become a more imposing 100 TYRONE POWER image of the truly noble Boston savage. He was, indeed, a great spectacle. Nor was Lona- wanda alone in his glory. Actual Indians, the very prose of the earth, — about a dozen of them, — had been brought all the way from an agency in Nebraska, to perform the "Ghost Dance"; a festive rite that commonly precedes arterial congelation and raising of the hair, and therefore was confidently trusted to cause these effects. The exhibition inspired awe, and no reasonable spectator could ask for anything more awful. Furthermore it agitated respon- sive bosoms by apprising them that the morals and manners of the Gallico-Pinero-Jones mod- ern "problem" comedy were actively prevalent among the Aborigines of North America, in the vicinity of the Great Lakes, in 1750, and that alone was worth the price of admission. The spouse of Potiphar, it will be remembered, lived again in "The Tree of Knowledge," — that sweet-scented boon vouchsafed in the Sunday-school days of the old Lyceum The- atre; and the same dear creature recurred in the Indian wife Lashota; for that dame, wish- DR. JOHNSON ON LOVE 101 ful to ensnare the gallant Niatawa, was quite willing that he should destroy her husband, and indeed took active measures to promote that consummation. To some fogies it seems a pity that we cannot have even a primitive backwoods drama without the everlasting matrimonial misfit, the taint of bestial sen- suality, the peppery aroma of vice. The belief does still linger, in a few benighted minds, that there really ought to be other dramatic motives. Old Dr. Johnson long ago remarked that "love is only one of the many passions, and has no great influence upon the sum of life"; and that sage (who suffused his considerate observations with the embarrassing attributes of profound knowledge and thought) ventured the opinion that "any other passion, as it is regular or exorbitant, is a cause of happiness or calamity." Such views, however, are, of course, behind the times. Welcome was, therefore, expected for Lo, in his modern, human, "up-to-date" environment of domestic infelicity, matrimonial incontinence, "love," and slaughter. The acting of Power, as Lonawanda, was, 102 TYRONE POWER under the circumstances, magnificent; for the Indian chieftain is placed in conditions that frequently are absurd and is obliged to speak language that is often imbecile. Power, how- ever, manifested the imagination to form a dis- tinct and fine ideal of tribal majesty, and like- wise he had the romantic fervor and artistic enthusiasm to maintain himself in absolute sin- cerity in the expression of it. All the impor- tant parts were earnestly acted, but Power bore the burden of the play and carried it to a considerable measure of success — ^in spite of its nonsensical plot and its perfectly astound- ing abundance of preposterous language. Mr. Donald MacLaran's Indians are supplied with a vocabulary of such amplitude as is literally marvellous, including euphemisms that woidd have startled Lilly himself. Sunrise is "bright day's regalia." Mention occurs of the "pea- cock, "^ — a bird indigenous to the East Indies, and unknown to the North American Indians; of "the fragile thread of honor," "the love- sick maiden," "O, sore oppressed," "the graven image," and "a vertigo of jealousy." Such PATCHWORK DRAMA 103 phrases as "methinks," "one would," "in truth 'tis not," "one whit," "sore trouble," "in sooth," "name linked with yours"; "may tempt the danger," "unruly tears that belie my heart of marble"; "funeral pile," etc., occur ad nauseam. "You lived a double life," exclaims one dis- gusted savage. "You open afresh the wound of sin," cries another. Allusion is made to "most worshipful feet" and woods "well stocked with game." And so it goes — till the listener, like still another of these erudite Ockotchees, "is fain" to exclaim, with Scrooge, to the ghost of Marley, "Don't be flowery, Jacob." Yet, despite aU this, the concocter of the medley, by taking the theatric crux of his principal situation from the Scottish drama called "Bon- nie Prince Charlie," — that of the blind man and the woman, — and incidentally gathering hints from "Romeo and Juliet," "Pygmalion and Galatea" (the mirror incident), "The Fatal Card," and even "Hamlet," contrived to make something remotely like a play. At all events, it afforded, in the Cave Scene, when the blind father was apprised of his daughter's 104 TYRONE POWER supposed dishonor, an opportunity for Power, which was very splendidly improved. Here a true actor evinced great capacity, alike of action and of voice — providing a rounded, full, superb example of impersonation. The career of "The Redskin" at the Liberty Theatre lasted imtil March 25, after which a tour of the country was made with it. From April 17 to May 12 Power acted at the Liberty Theatre with Florence Roberts, in "The Strength of the Weak." The next six months were devoted to efforts to effect revivals of standard legitimate plays. In the fall of 1907 Power accepted an engagement to act in asso- ciation with Miss Henrietta Crosman, in a the- atrical epitome of "The Pilgrim's Progress," made by Mr. James MacArthur, and entitled "The Christian Pilgrim." This play, after pre- liminary performances in other cities, was pro- duced in New York, at the Liberty Theatre (now, 1913, the Harris), on November 11, 1907. "THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS" 105 "THE CHRISTIAN PILGRIM" BEELZEBUB, APOLLYON, LORD HATEOOOD, GIANT DESPAIR. With a view to stage effect it would be diffi- cult to make a more practical use of materials selected from "The Pilgrim's Progress" than was made by Mr. MacArthur. Strict adher- ence to the original was, of course, impossible; but the deviations from Bunyan's plan, although considerable, while they augment movement and heighten pictorial display, do not detract from either the grandeur and pathos of the theme or the solemnity of its import. That theme is the progress of a repentant sinner from a condition of remorse and misery to a condi- tion of peace and joy; from the fear of dam- nation of the immortal soul to a confident trust in its salvation through faith. Upon the theo- logical aspect of the work it is not essential to expatiate. Few books exist into which their authors have put as much of themselves as John Bunyan put into "The PUgrim's Prog- ress." He was a believer in a literal hell; in the Fiend, the fire, and the bottomless pit. He 106 TYRONE POWER suffered terribly. The account that he wrote of his life is the hardest of hard read- ing; is deplorably wearisome, — all the more so because painfully, almost repulsively, expres- sive of the colossal egotism of which a human being can be capable, when concentrated on his emotions and completely engrossed by solici- tude for himself: but it is wonderfully illumi- native of the spirit of "The Pilgrim's Progress," and it is clearly explanatory of the genius of its writer. The agonies through which he passed and the religious convictions upon which he finally rested are aU expressed in that book. It is an allegory, and allegories, as a rule, are not susceptible of effective dramatic treatment. This one is exceptional. Macaulay,- — a critic who set the good example of always giving his reasons for opinion, and who somewhere desig- nates "Paradise Lost" and "The Pilgrim's Progress" as the two great imaginative worts of English literature in the seventeenth century, — ^has truly said of Bunyan that, among all the allegorists, he is the only one who has succeeded in making abstractions the objects of terror. STORY OF CHRISTIAN 107 pity, and love. "The Pilgrim's Progress" pos- sesses the cardinal virtues of sincerity and sim- plicity, and because of its simplicity it meas- urably lends itself to dramatic exposition. Religious thought has considerably clarified itself since Bunyan's time, and the literal DevU, with horns, hoofs, and tail, going about seek- ing whom he may devour, has, by most persons, been relegated into the limbo of fiction. He figures in the allegory, however, and, together with other creatures of fancy, he is conspicu- ous in Mr. MacArthur's play; but, happily, his presence is not associated with any asser- tion of creed or any fanatical exhortation. The purpose, obviously, was to tell a story, and that purpose was fulfilled. At the beginning Christian, bearing the name of Graceless, is shown as having already left the City of Destruction and set forth on his perilous expedition toward Zion — the expedition that every human being must make who would conquer evil propensities and attain to purity and beauty in the spiritual life. The Pilgrim has fallen asleep by the wayside, exhausted 108 TYRONE POWER and miserable, and, in his dream, he beholds Beelzebub, throned among the fallen angels who are the legions of hell, and he hears that Fiend's commandment that he shall be pursued and brought back to the dominion of sin, or else thwarted in his progress and either driven or lured to ruin. He awakens and proceeds on his journey, resisting the persuasions of the Worldly Wise, and so he reaches the Wicket Gate, where Faith receives him and where his heavy burden of iniquity and sorrow falls away, so that he is changed and becomes a white and radiant figure of virtue and hope. Then, in the House Beautiful, Prudence, Charity, and Pity clothe him with armor, place upon his head the Helmet of Salvation, and arm him with the Sword of the Spirit. He has now entered on the strait and narrow path, and from that moment his conflict grows more and more exacting and bitter, — for in a world of wickedness it is hard for the individual to stand firm against the force of the vigorous and inveterate multitude. In the Valley of the Shadow of Death Christian fights against From a Photograph by White, N. T. TYRONE POWER AS GIANT DESPAIR, IN "THE CHRISTIAN PILGRIM" MISS CROSMAN 109 Apollyon, and, after a terrific struggle, wounds and defeats him. In the episode of Vanity Fair, — ^where the playwright widely departs from his original, — the Pilgrim resists many allurements and baffles many insidious foes. Here it is Christiana, the wife of Christian, and not Faithful, who is subjected to trial, and the climax, instead of being a martyrdom of burning at the stake, is Christian's denunciation of Hategood and his myrmidons, succeeded by a terrific tempest of thunder and lightning, under cover of which the Pilgrim escapes, while the tyrant and his rabble are overwhelmed and discomfited. Thereupon follows the capture of Christian and Faithful, who have wandered away from the right path, and their incarcera- tion by Giant Despair in one of the dungeons of Doubting Castle. Then is shown the wretched plight of those who have lost faith and hope, the temptation to suicide, the revival of belief and the escape from bondage. At the last Christian and Faithful come to the River of Death and, descending into its dark waters, they, one by one, disappear. The 110 TYRONE POWER closing scene shows the Celestial City, bathed in golden light, and angels are placing crowns upon the heads of those warriors for righteous- ness who have fought the good fight, who have kept the faith, and who now are come into Heaven, "unspotted of the world." So the curtain falls and the final pageant disappears — "Slowly, as out of the heavens, with apocalyptical splendors, Sank the city of God, in the vision of John the Apostle." Miss Crosman's impersonation of Christian evinced a clear purpose, clearly pursued, to incarnate religious ecstasy. The spirit of it was tender, sympathetic, sorrowful; the expres- sion continuously earnest, at times despairing, at other times suddenly luminous with fiery enthusiasm; — as a whole, rounded, syrmnetrical, distinct and impressive. The poses, gestures, and vocalism, indeed, evinced a comprehension of deep, sad experience and an authoritative command of the means of expression such as the actress had not at any time as clearly signified. "THE SERVANT IN THE HOUSE" 111 Power impersonated the four characters of Beelzebub^ Apollyon, Lord Hategood, and Giant Despair. The first and second are identical. The third and fourth require dis- crimination. As a whole Power's achievement was instinct with alertness of lurid majesty and baleful malignity. His ideal of the Fiend evinced a vigorous imagination, deeply moved and fully aroused. The theory of the play is that the spirit of evil is incarnated in several forms. A certain sameness, accordingly, is admissible, throughout the several personalities that the actor assumed. Shades of differ- ence, however, should be manifested, in the tyrant and the giant, and that difference was not sufficiently indicated in Power's perform- ance. His presence and his acting in "The Christian Pilgrim" imparted ample authority and weird splendor to the entire representation. "THE SERVANT IN THE HOUSE."— iSOBBiST SMITH. On November 23, 1907, "The Christian Pil- grim," which had failed to win public favor, was withdrawn, and Power did not again act 112 TYRONE POWER till March, 1908. On the 23rd he appeared at the Savoy Theatre, New York, in the char- acter of Robert Smith, the Drainman, in a play called "The Servant in the House," by Mr. Charles Rann Kennedy, which, after per- formances in Baltimore and Washington, was then first produced in the metropolis. That composition, well calculated to please the audience fond of preaching, has since been made widely known throughout the country, and, because of Power's fine acting in it, has been highly successful. It contains a story, relative to three brothers, one an East Indian bishop, one a country parson, and one a scav- enger. The scene is one room in the residence of the country clergyman, in England. This ecclesiastic is wedded to a worldly-minded woman, who dearly loves him and steadfastly labors to promote his advancement in the Church. He, meanwhile, is a sufferer from remorse, — reproaching himself for having, in his earlier years, neglected the welfare, phys- ical and spiritual, of his younger brother. That wayward person had "taken to drink," dis- A STODGY DRAMA 113 graced himself in the eyes of his relatives, and, on being repudiated and expelled, had become a vagabond and disappeared, leaving a mother- less daughter, whom the repentant, grieving minister adopted and carefully reared. On this basis of circumstance the action proceeds, — involving the return of the vagabond, in the capacity of a "drainman," wishful to see his child, — and likewise the arrival at the country parsonage of the East Indian bishop, intent on restoring peace and concord in his divided and distressed family. The bishop comes in the assumed character of a butler, and as such is employed by his clerical brother, who does not recognize him. The butler's name is Manson (meaning "the Son of Man"), and in person and visage he is the exact counterpart of Jesus Christ, according to the generally accepted ideal portraits of the Messiah. The outcast brother, also unrecognized, comes as The Drainman, a coarse, dirty, combative, gen- erally ill-conditioned person, who makes him- self as offensive as possible, until regenerated by the rhapsodical discourse of his celestial 114 TYRONE POWER relative from India. That ecclesiastic, emit- ting, with "a forty-parson power," the most irreproachable platitudes that mental medioc- rity could devise and stodgy dulness admire concerning morality and the brotherhood of mankind, softens the obdurate heart of the outcast, and, with a mysterious demeanor which on the part of a butler in a middle-class Eng- lish household might well be expected to work wonders, effects a spiritual regeneration of everybody in his neighborhood — with the single exception of the Episcopal bishop. Viewed as a portrayal of actual life, "The Servant in the House" is incredible, but viewed as an allegory, blending incidents of domestic drama with religious precept and admonition, it is coherent and comprehensible, and likewise it is morally significant. There is one telling piece of equivoke in it, when the butler, the vagrant Drainman and a pious humbug, called the Bishop of Lancaster, — the latter being half deaf, half blind, and altogether mercenary, hypocritical, and contemptibly mean, — engage in a conversation, during which the Lancaster DRAMATIC MORALITY 115 fraud, mistaking his interlocutors, reveals him- self as a sacerdotal charlatan. A time-honored situation, — the meeting between the degraded father and his lovely daughter, only the father being aware of the identity of the chUd, while she regards him as a pitiable stranger, — ^is effectively employed in one scene and made to afford a fine opportunity for the actor of The Drainman. That situation, it will be remem- bered, was made wonderfully pathetic by Sal- vini, in "Morte Civile." Each of the salient characters is a personification of an abstract virtue or vice or some spiritual condition, and the fabric is thus permeated by symbolism, an attribute inappropriate to drama and generally wearisome in it. Attention is concentrated on a defective drain beneath the parson's house and church, from which miasma exudes, and finally it is made known that this drain origi- nates in a sepulchre, under the church, full of corrupted corpses. Blended with that odor- iferous expedierit, the suggestion is made that any kind of falsehood underlying a human life must necessarily corrupt that life at its 116 TYRONE POWER foundations, — a truth not entirely novel: it was far more dramatically expounded by Henry Arthur Jones, in his ingenious play of " Judah." Other kindred didacticisms are set forth, but the play does not contain even one idea that has not been hammered into velvet cushions and somnolent congregations by all the pulpit performers that ever assailed Satan since preaching became a custom. The Indian Bishop^ masquerading as a but- ler, is transparent, as, in a play, he should be, but his disguise would not, as he is made to conduct himself, conceal his identity from his relatives for even half an hour. The Rev. Makeshyfte, Bishop of JLancaster, is a carica- ture. There are clerical humbugs in great number, but they are always downy, and the worse they are the downier they become. That good old actor Arthur Lewis personated the Bishop with photographic fidelity to a definite ideal of a tricky, selfish man, artfully wearing a specious guise of respectability. In actual life, practically without exception, every man, no matter how bad, justifies himself to himself A DISSENTER 117 on some groimd or other: Mr, Kennedy's hypo- critical clergyman does not leave himself any ground — even the least — of self -justification. As a sermon Mr. Kennedy's composition is unexceptional, saving only the incidental dis- course in the last act on the profession of scavenger and on death and corruption, — which is sickening. The most creditable part of the piece is its rebuke of hypocrisy in the ecclesiastical organization. The author seems to have been prompted by an active antipathy to the Established Church of England and therewithal an ardent desire to free his mind on that subject. It has usually been believed that the charity of Christ extends to all sinners, but Manson's peremptory extrusion of the Rev. Makeshyfte would seem to imply that Episco- palian backsliders are exempted from it. As a play "The Servant in the House" is ponderous and tiresome, and it would have failed but for the exceptionally good acting by which Power, supported by Mr. Lewis and Mr. Walter Hampden, interpreted it. Later, when its owner and manager, Mr. Henry 118 TYRONE POWER Miller, tried the experiment of acting in it, as The Drcdnmarij at the Grand Opera House, New York, it attracted no public support, and Mr, Miller retired from it after one week, — Power reappearing in the part. The reception accorded to it at the beginning of its career was peculiar. Many newspapers proclaimed, with almost hysterical fervor, that it was a work of transcendent value, the public being favored with much rhapsodical blather about "the spiritual gropings" revealed in it and being assured that it was "something unique in drama," a play "which drives home a moral lesson with tremendous effect," and a part of the religious section of the community rallied to it with an ardor as inconsistent as it was zealous. Various plays, even hinting at the introduction of Jesus Christ as an interlocutor, have been met with fervid protest from the religious community, yet here was a play cov- ertly but unmistakably presenting Jesus Christ as a butler in an Englishman's house, admonish- ing a page not to steal the breakfast jam and referring equivocally to his crucifixion, — the From a Photograph ty Saronij TYRONE POWER AS MISTER ROBERT SMITH, IN "THE SERVANT IN THE HOUSE" FINE ACTING 119 wish having been expressed that he should be "nailed up," — and no offence was found in it except by those eccentric reactionaries who object to insolent didactic and religious impart- ments from the Stage. The principal part of the burden of this prolix, monotonous fabric of colloquy was borne by Power. His impersonation of The Drmnman, revealing that vagrant as a wretched father, at first half-savage as the result of injustice, unkindness, trouble, and grief, then as tortured in mental and emotional self-con- flict, and finally as heroic in self-conquest, was instantly successful. Stalwart in figure, pic- torial in aspect, rugged in manner, bold in style, broad in gesture, various in vocalism, steadily propulsive in action, he made the part surprisingly graphic. I have seen no other contemporary actor who, liberating into the assumed identity the surge of profound emo- tion and abounding enthusiasm, could . have done more to vitalize that character and cause it to seem possible, especially when animating the foggy fustian of the last act, and making 120 TYRONE POWER it sound like an authentic outburst of pas- sionate moral fervor. In the interview between the father and daughter Power manifested rare capability of simulating intense feeling and of being supremely pathetic by holding emotion in control. With "The Servant in the House" Power remained connected, — first as one of Mr. Henry Miller's "Associate Players" (a desig- nation borrowed from my published criticisms of acting), later as, practically, a star, — ^untU the close of the season of 1909-'10. Then, weary, as he said, "of slopping 'round in drains and listening to hypocritical twaddle about brotherly love," he sought seclusion and rest in a cottage that he owned, near the Richelieu River, Canada. " 'The Servant in the House,' " he wrote, "paid the debts lack of employment had piled on my back, and that means more thousands of dollars than I want to remember, but then I was left pretty nearly strapped again." In that distressful condition, he remained for more than a year. Several proffered engagements in plays which AN HONORABLE POSITION 121 he deemed unfit for the Stage were refused by him at this time, as also were several parts in which, as he expressed it, "I could not see myself." He also declined an offer of $30,000 to act in vaudeville theatres, — "play, produc- tion, and company found," — rightly maintain- ing that the Variety Stage is inimical to the interests of the Legitimate Drama, "I may be driven to it, at last," he wrote, "in order to get clothing and food — but until I have no other resource I will not play on the same stage with trained fleas, performing pigs, and educated seals. I am an actor and an artist — not, perhaps, a very good one, but as good as I know how to be. Of course, the varieties are well enough, in some ways; many actors, doubtless much abler than I, act in them: but — not for me, while I can help it." That is an honorable position for an actor to assume, evincing rightful respect for his pro- fession and for himself, and it should command for him the respect of the community in which he labors. Many persons, in all vocations, readily deflect from principle for the sake of 122 TYRONE POWER profit. Power had formed a high ideal and he was resolved to adhere to it. His fortitude, however, was now to be severely tried. Illness came upon him, and for some time he was almost disabled. His devoted wife, — his com- forter and guide through many trials and hard- ships, — also broke down in health. Troubles, it has been noticed, seldom come singly. He again experienced the chilling blight of pov- erty; he came at last to a point where, "in order to get clothing and food," professional employ- ment became imperative, and as soon as he had sufficiently recovered to be able to act he accepted an engagement, under the manage- ment of Mr. Joseph M. Gaites, to appear as a co-star with Miss Constance Collier in a play based on the novel by Anatole France, called "Thais"; and therein he incurred an experience almost as distasteful to him as an appearance in "the Varieties" would have been. "TnAis:'—DAMIEL, THE ANCHORITE. A dreary, worn-out subject was once more thrust upon the attention of the theatre-going M. FRANCE'S THAIS 123 public in that presentment of the platitudinous, sophistical composition — ^more spectacle than play — which was derived from M. France's story by Mr. Paul Wilstach. The Thais of this scissored novel should not be confounded with the Thais of history. She is a fictitious person, — though, in some respects, the person indi- cated might be said to be the historical Thais transferred into a time much later than her actual period. Her date is specified, in the novel on which the drama is founded, as about that of St. Anthony, who is said to have lived to the extraordinary age of 105 years, expiring A. D. 356. The Thais of the drama is depicted as a prosperous courtesan, endowed with all the attributes of the historic trollop of that name, who appears to have come from Corinth, who was the mistress of Alexander the Great, caused that martial and bibulous voluptuary to burn the city of Persepolis, and, after the death of Alexander, became the wife of Ptolemy, King of Egypt. Alexander's Thais, it will be remembered, was on hand at that lux- urious feast imagined by the poet Dryden, 124 TYRONE POWER where "she sat like a blooming Eastern bride," and to her fancied presence on that interesting occasion literature is indebted for the glowing assurance of the ardent bard that "None but the brave, None but the brave, None but the brave deserve the fair !" M. France's TTidis, who has been produced in an opera (remarkable for its lack of Egyp- tian character and its inappropriate modern style) as well as in Mr. Paul WUstach's play, is the concubine of a pecunious dandy, of the old Egyptian city of Alexandria, named NiciaSj and she is said to be the idol of the entire population of that city, — consisting, as it did at the time indicated, of about three hundred thousand free inhabitants and about an equal number of slaves. The Christian religion, — unknown in the period of the historic Thais, — making its appearance in the time of the Roman Emperor Tiberius, a. d. 14-37, had, in the course of three centuries and a half, extended over a considerable area, and the From a Photograph hy White, N. Y. TYRONE POWER AS DAMIEL, IN "THAIS" EARLY CHRISTIANS 125 Theban Anthony and his numerous imitators, striving, as Byron long afterward happily phrased it, "to merit heaven by making earth a hell," had established many monastic houses in the desert places of northern Africa. In this tale one of those imitators, called by M. France Paphnutius and by Mr. Wilstach Damiel, established his residence in the desert of Nitria (called in the play the Theban desert), con- tiguous to Alexandria, allowed his hair and beard to attain a profuse growth, his person to become dirty (warm baths were expressly for- bidden to the early Christians, and later ones, of the Athanasian and even of the Becket period, do not appear to have been addicted to ablution), and himself to lapse into a con- dition of grim fanaticism. He had, however, seen and admired the voluptuous Thais, and he found himself unable to discard the remem- brance of her beauty. In brooding on that subject he presently persuaded himself that it was essential to convert her to Christianity and thus save her soul, and, actuated by the avowed desire to accomplish that object, he repaired 126 TYRONE POWER to Alexandria, and with the mirthfully con- temptuous assistance of her current paramour, Nicias^ formerly one of his acquaintances, obtained access to her presence. At first, after she had, in a lascivious and unbecoming manner, festooned herself all around his person, his spir- itual appeal was angrily repulsed, but later, for no manifest reason except that he had por- tentously rumbled forth a statement of his intention to "wait," she accompanied him into the desert and was consigned to a convent, where she sickened and presently expired, — dying immediately upon being apprised by him that, after all, it was not her soul that he wanted to save, but her person that he desired to possess. In other words, Damiel, striving all the while to remain faithful as a monk, was, nevertheless, one of the infatuated lovers of the notorious harlot, and the purpose of this play (supposing that there was any purpose in writing it, other than theatrical speculation in the book and the opera from which it was derived) was to illustrate a con- flict between asceticism and carnalism, in the A TAINTED EPITOME 127 mind and person of an unfortunate, weak, misguided, miserable man, — a compound, as all such eroto-maniacs are, of the fool and the fanatic, and urgently in need of medical care. Authentic history is not silent as to the pro- ceedings of the inmates of those ancient Afri- can "religious" retreats, and incidentally it may be mentioned, as instructively germane to the subject, that the maintenance of as many as six vestal virgins was found, in ancient Rome, to be a task of considerable difficulty. Damiel, in the story of this play, — which is a trite story and is told by the playwright in a bald, insipid manner, — tried to be an anchorite and failed in his endeavor, and the meaning of the whole rigmarole, — in as far as it means anything, — ^is that unless a man pre- fers and elects to follow the example of Father Origen he should live in conformity with the physical laws of Nature and the moral laws which are implanted in his conscience. No rea- son was made apparent why such commonplace stuff as this play, which was rendered notable only by reason of some gaudy scenery and an 128 TYRONE POWER immodest exposure of the female person, should have been set before the public. No one is ever benefited by being informed that all human beings, not excepting anchorites and vestals, are more or less subject to animal impulses and the sway of the senses. That fact is known to everybody; and it is also known that those persons are wise who, as Emerson well enjoined, "hold fast by the intellect." Mr. Wilstach's tedious, tainted epitome of M. France's novel only once more flaimted the old, familiar, specious, hypocritical pretence of teaching a "moral lesson" by showing a dis- gusting spectacle of female depravity and com- mingled masculine infatuation and debauchery. As a play the fabric is contemptible. It lacks action. It does not contain even one essen- tially dramatic situation. The incidents of it are hackneyed and trivial. The dialogue, part of which is reproduced or paraphrased from the translation of the novel, is generally vapid, pointless, and ineffective — a tissue of mere chat- ter; and furthermore the story is, substantially, a feeble echo of a narrative previously made STARTLING SPECTACLE 129 far too familiar on our Stag6. Mme. Bern- hardt long ago regaled the public with an unclean and almost blasphemous drama called "Izeyl," in which a courtesan, represented by herself, vainly fondled and tempted a holy man, and when moribund was apprised by him that although he had resisted her enticements he had not been insensible to them — so that she was enabled to expire in an exceedingly gratified and edifying frame of mind. Mention has somewhere been made of an old bachelor who, unaccustomed to the theatre, chanced to attend a performance in which a peculiarly frank display was made of "the female form divine," and who was heard to exclaim, in dismayed surprise, "Bless my soul! I haven't seen such a spectacle since I was weaned!" The spectacle presented by Miss Constance Collier as Thais when, in association with Power, she appeared in this play might well have caused some such startled exclama- tion. That actress seemed intent to substi- tute for dramatic talent a copious revelation of her mature physical charms, and her exhibition of 130 TYRONE POWER them was certainly sufficiently liberal to assuage public curiosity on that subject — if any ever existed. In her acting Miss Collier, who has had experience enough to invest her with assurance and self-possession, displayed a sin- gular inefficiency, for even in the easy scene in which Thais endeavors to allure and sensually tempt the hermit Damielj while frankly immod- est, she evinced complete incapabihty of a seductive use of feminine fascinations. Her demeanor, as the vain, luxurious wanton, sur- rounded by flatterers, implicated much lethargic posturing and curvetting and much grimacing, and her affected recitation of some rickety verses made known her remembrance of the abominable elocutionary style of the Enghsh actor Herbert Beerbohm-Tree. Her invariably commonplace performance was rounded by a conventional death scene, — Thais expiring, in white robes, under a tree, C, in a bright lime- light. Miss Collier in a good part might, per- haps, reveal herself as an able actress. As Thais, — not a good part, since it consists solely of affectation, petulance, and lachrymose lassi- AN IMPRESSIVE EMBODIMENT 131 tude, — she contrived to keep any ability she may possess entirely concealed. Thais is a part in which any actress might blush to appear, and perhaps this one did: but she took care not to "blush unseen." The sole public gain from the presentment of "Thais," — dramatically flimsy and stupid and morally reprehensible, — was that it brought Tyrone Power once more conspicuously upon the scene. His assumption of the hirsute fanatic, Damielj — ^whose occupation is to assume a portentous and awful aspect and to express by a demeanor that is sometimes austere, some- times sullen, and sometimes savagely frenzied, the fact that he is enduring anguish, — was, for such an actor, "a property of easiness." He delivered a number of commonplace speeches with a sonority of voice and a sincerity and solemnity of manner which caused them to seem freighted with significance. His embodi- ment, by reason of authoritative individuality and sustained gravity, was deeply impressive, but he could not, — ^nor could any actor, — ^raise a level, murky, monotonous, iminteresting, 132 TYRONE POWER repellent part to the height of torrid passion and radiant grandeur. Damiel throughout the four acts of this play is either lamenting, or preaching, or raving. He is supposed to be convulsed and rent, mentally, spiritually, and sensually, between love of God and love of Thais, but no veritable opportunity is provided for the actor to express this conflict: aU that he does must, in this part, originate in himself. Power, endowing the character with his com- manding personality and thus, to some extent, making it an august and stately figure, sug- gested the magnetic quality of a great man in dead earnest, — such a man, for example, as Edward Irving, the preacher, can be conject- ured to have been; such a man as Daniel Webster certainly was, who impressed the observer, even though he said nothing, — and he infused it with deep if turgid emotion, vitalized it with propulsive purpose, and at the termina- tion of the play, when the anchorite, in a frenzy, bursts his bonds and vociferates his seething passion into the ears of the dying Thais, caused one vivid, striking, momentary effect of natural POSITIVE INJURY 133 eloquence and wild abandonment. No actor could do more with such a part. The appearance of Power in "Thais," — exemplifying the distasteful, embittering, sad- dening experience to which many actors who are earnest, devoted, ambitious, and sincere are subjected, — was melancholy indeed. The sub- tle injury that is done by the representation of plays of which "Thais" is a type cannot be fully and explictly stated without offence: all the plain truth, going straight to the root of the matter, cannot be published in books for general circulation: but it is the duty of every conscientious writer to indicate the trend of a pernicious influence inevitably sequent on the abuse of the Stage for the obtrusion of a gross subject and the making of an exhibition posi- tively and unquestionably injurious in its influ- ence. It has been scientifically estimated that one-third of the time allotted to human life is absorbed, in one way or another, by considera- tion of the sexual relation; — that is, since another third is devoted to sleep, nearly one- half the period of conscious life. There surely 134 TYRONE POWER is no need of directing the public mind to that subject; no need of artificially focusing atten- tion on what Emerson designated "the much over-freighted instinct." There is, on the con- trary, great need of stimulating public atten- tion to other matters. Any institution becomes a public enemy when it is perverted to minis- tration of licentious impulse. An actress who, in a semi-nude condition, presents herself to observation, through the medium of a vision seen by a stage associate supposed to be con- vulsed by erotic delirium, knows what she is doing and why she is doing it, and also knows that her audience is equally perceptive and appreciative of her conduct. The actress in the specific case of "Thais" did not present an enticing spectacle, since "Nature's above art, in that respect," but that fact does not in the least modify or extenuate the impropriety of such proceedings. The plea of "a good moral purpose," — that old butt-end of didactic impos- ture, — to vindicate a work in which such an exhibition is obviously and incontestably the whole substance, does not deceive any intelli- Photograph, Iti/ Morrison EDITH CRANE, MRS. POWER BEREAVEMENT 135 gent observer, and it is wholly inadmissible as a defence of conduct manifestly indelicate and mischievous. The production of "Thais," nevertheless, met with a considerable measure of success because of Power's appearance in it, and presentations of that piece, "on the road," then in New York, at the Criterion Theatre, and later again on tour, continued for some time, and Power's par- ticipation in them was profitable in a monetary way. In December, 1911, the "Thais" company was disbanded and he returned to New York, where, on January 3, 1912, a cruel afflic- tion befell him, in the sudden death of his wife, Edith Crane, subsequent to a surgical opera- tion, performed for the removal of a tumor near the heart. The operation was thought to have been successful, but Mrs. Power's strength was unequal to the ordeal and she did not rally from the shock. Within a few days of this bereavement Power was compelled, in fulfilment of contracts previously made, to begin, under the management of Mr. Gaites, a starring tour in "The Servant in the House," 136 TYRONE POWER which lasted until April 20, 1912, when it was terminated, in Detroit. "JULIUS CMSAR."— MARCUS BRUTUS. On October 7, that year, at Toronto, Can- ada, Power gave the most important perform- ance of his career, thus far, when he appeared as Marcus Brutus, in Shakespeare's "Julius Csesar," acting in association with Mr. Frank Keenan as Cassius, and William Faversham as Marc Antony. Next to "Hamlet" and "The Merchant of Venice," "Julius Csesar" has, in recent years, been the most popular of Shakespeare's plays, and there is no drama in the legitimate reper- tory which at a time of social discontent and seething unrest, such as the present indubitably is, would make an equally forcible appeal to general public sympathy, or, because of its clear exposition and fervent advocacy of popular rights, exert as strong an influence for the gen- eral good. Celebration of freedom and rebuke of violence were never more timely and wel- come, and Faversham could not have chosen INCIDENTS OF "JULIUS C^SAR" 137 more wisely than he did when he determined to revive this tragedy. "Julius Cffisar," one of the most sublime works in the English language, disputes with "Richard the Second" and "King John" the title to preeminence in the quality of eloquence, and, among the tragedies, it comes next after "Othello," in the element of action. It thrills the imagination and it fires the mind with vital thoughts of liberty; it presents heroic pictures of an imposing, ancient civilization; it causes impressive pageants of actual Roman life to pass before the vision, in one long, glowing, symmetrical array of royal pomp, moving majestically onward to a melancholy but splen- did close; and it enforces an abiding sense of that inevitable, terrible retribution which, in the inscrutable moral government of the world, is, sooner or later, meted out to the doers of miu-der. The incidents of the play are numerous, varied, and startling, and are fraught with dra- matic significance. The temptation of the heroic Brutus and his agony of mental conflict. 138 TYRONE POWER in the struggle of that divided devotion which loves not Ccesar less but Rome more; the keen prescience and ruthless purpose of the fanatic Cassius, and his miserable fate; the atmosphere of dread and of breathless suspense which hov- ers round the midnight conspiracy to commit a fearful crime; the grim and awful deed of assassination of imperial Ccesarj the agonized passion and the insidious craft of the subtle Antony; the conflictive appeals, one for pacific control, the other for fiery incitement, of the Roman multitude; the dangerous quarrel and the touching reconciliation of the two insurgent chiefs; the heart-breaking farewell of Brutus and Cassius, each oppressed by secret, dark presentiment of ruin and death; the vicissitudes and horrors of the battlefield ; and the successive suicides of the defeated generals, bearing the supreme monition that inexorable Justice will ever condemn and punish the effort that tries to do good by means that are evil, — all those ingredients of a wonderful play are shown by the dramatist with such felicity of artistic exhibition, aided by language of such copious A FINE PRODUCTION 139 force and entrancing beauty that, once appre- hended, they dwell in memory forever. No scenic garniture of "Julius Caesar" as correct, spacious, and imposing as that made by Edwin Booth, — afterward utilized by his brother Junius, and, later, by Jarrett and Palmer, — has since been shown on the Ameri- can Stage. The presentments by Louis James and Frederick Warde were utilitarian. The one made by Richard Mansfield, while mag- nificent, was not original and not invariably correct, — important parts of the scenery and costumes having been derived from Henry Irv- ing's setting of "Coriolanus," at the London Lyceum Theatre, April 15, 1901, which Mans- field purchased. That of Robert Mantell (whose Brutus stands high in the annals of acting) was overlaid with garish ornament. Faversham's production, — the scenic investiture of which was executed by Mr. Joseph Harker, after designs made by the late Alma-Tadema for Beerbohm-Tree, and for which incidental music was especially composed by Coleridge- Taylor and Christopher WUson, is, in the main. 140 TYRONE POWER appropriate and effective. It excludes the masses of carpentry that usually burden and hamper revivals of the classic plays and depends mainly on good painting, most of which is displayed on drops. In this respect Faver- sham has wisely followed the example of Henry Irving, who, using painted drops, often created superb effects by surprisingly simple means. Faversham's revival of "Julius Caesar," which has already been seen in many cities and which, ultimately, will be made familiar throughout the length and breadth of America, has been much, sometimes even extravagantly, extolled: i1: is among younger theatre-goers accepted as a standard, and judicial examination of it is, accordingly, desirable. His arrangement of the text follows Edwin Booth's "Prompt Book," but is disfigured by some injudicious restora- tions, excisions, and innovations, made by him- self. A usual managerial error is here again exemplified, — that in reviving a Shakespearean play novelty of treatment is imperative. That notion is as foolish as a search would be for new sunlight to illimiine the marbles of Michael DEPLORABLE ERRORS 141 Angelo. The essential requirement in present- ing a Shakespearean play is Dramatic Art, — the capability of assuming, exhibiting, and mak- ing actual the massive and complete ideals of character in which that marvellous writer has delineated the whole of human nature. Great Acting is the originality that should be sought — not the paltry novelty of a restoration of needless lines or the introduction of crotchets of stage business. And, as the acting in Faver- sham's revival of "Julius Cassar" is, with little exception, intellectual, earnest, and sympa- thetic, it is deplorable that fine eflPect should have been marred by indiscreet stage-manage- ment. Experience has proved the wisdom of closing the Assassination Scene with Antony's pas- sionate, prophetic speech, when left alone with the corpse of Ccesar. Faversham not only restored the unnecessary colloquy between the Servant and Antony, but introduced the wid- owed Calphurnia, distracted in speechless grief, in order to make a picture. The effect was that of anti-climax. 142 TYRONE POWER The Quarrel Scene between Brutus and Cassius was seriously marred by the expedient of showing both the men in armor. The meeting of Brutus and Cassius at Sardis, — in the play as written, — occurs in front of the Tent, into which they enter, and then their colloquy ensues. In representation in the modern Theatre a far finer effect is caused by showing Brutus in his Tent, attired as a military officer naturally would be when resting, and causing Cassius, who comes at the head of his horsemen, to enter, precipitately, in full martial accoutre- ment, impatiently and injudiciously ejaculating his impetuous anger. The calm majesty of Brutus, subduing but not concealing a noble resentment, and the fiery wrath of Cassius are contrasted in that scene, and the force of the contrast would be heightened by dissimilarity of their garb. Bigoted deference to tradition is foolish, but customs which have been tried and proved should not be lightly discarded. Innovation merely for the sake of seeming to be novel is unwise. In the Apparition Scene as treated by 2/ -' From a PJiotograph Vy Otto Sarony TYRONE POWER AS MARCUS BRUTUS, IN "JULIUS C^SAR" BRUTUS AND CMSAR'S GHOST 143 Faversham the part of Brutus is foolishly sub- ordinated to the part of the Ghost and to the mechanical trick of the appearance of that phantom. The time is midnight. Brutus is trying to compose his mind by reading, before, — in his own phrase, — he shall "niggard the necessity of nature with a little rest." The intention of the scene is to impart that chill of dread which, in superstitious belief, widely prevalent in the time when Shakespeare wrote and not yet entirely extinct, always accom- panies ghostly visitation. Brutus, an imagi- native man, of sensitive temperament, becomes vaguely and fearfully conscious of a strange influence, a preternatural presence, and, in stage representation, as he looks up from his book he should see the Ghost of Ccesar before ib is seen by the spectators in the theatre, and his face should be visible to them, in order that they can see and feel the effect produced on him by the apparition. In Faversham's arrangement of the scene Ccesar's Ghost, unspir- itual and commonplace, appears at the rear of the stage, behind Brutus, who, accordingly. 144 TYRONE POWER must turn his back toward the audience, in order to see it. No atmosphere of awe and terror, such as the poet designed, could possibly be created under those conditions, and Power, as Brutus, did not, because he could not, cause the thrilling effect which otherwise he might have produced. It is not mechanical ingenuity in the dis- closure of a phantom, nor is it the ghastly visage and sepulchral voice of that phantom's gloomy representative, that imparts the signifi- cance and inspires the emotion incident to that awful moment; it is expression of the agonized shock that the ghost of a murdered man inflicts on the soul and body of his murderer. Other- wise the spectre would be superfluous. Richard Mansfield, an imaginative actor, discarded the visible ghost, — as Kemble, and others following him, had done, in "Macbeth," — and depended solely on his acting for achievement of the essential artistic result. If Faversham's production of "Julius Csesar" had been less important and meritorious, there would have been no reason for allusion to its CHARACTER OF ANTONY 145 defects. It is a worthy revival of a noble play that the ambitious actor has made, and his work should be rendered as nearly perfect as possible. The spirit manifested by him, and likewise by his associates in the enterprise, is in the -highest degree honorable and commend- able. The venture establishes Faversham's title to recognition as a leading manager in the American Theatre, and it should bring him fortune as well as fame. In every representation of "Julius Caesar" attention necessarily centres on Antony^ CassiuSj and Brutus^ who are delineated with such amplitude that they overshadow all the associate characters. Even Ccesar, the central figure, — ^being the object of the whole con- spiracy, — is dwarfed by the superior distinction of his assailants. In the play of "Antony and Cleopatra" the greatness of Antony's complex character has become developed. In that of "Julius Cassar" it is only indicated. For an actor that part, in this play, is comparatively simple. Antony is strong, formidable, saga- cious, crafty; concealing his mental powers 146 TYRONE POWER beneath a genial, blithe exterior. Though "a masker and a reveller," he is a shrewd con- triver and a clever, dangerous demagogue. He seems careless and reckless, but he really is astute. His love for Ccesar is sincere, but it is not disinterested. In the poignant surge of his grief over the corpse of the murdered Consul he can stUl be politic. In his insidiously adroit inflammatory harangue, when showing Caesar's butchered body, he can, and does, use even the sincerity of his anguish to direct and intensify his appeal to the rage of the multitude. His potentiality of deceit, treachery, and cruelty is particularly shown in the scene, always omitted, in which he flippantly condemns his nephew to death, and, after sending Lepidus on an errand, advises Octavius how to extirpate that official associate. He mourns for Ccesar, but he is thriftily willing to refrain from payment of the much extolled bequests of that lamented friend. Antony, though he be not worth a hair of the head of Brutus or of old Cassius, is the most brilliant person in the play. William Faversham, although for a long time FAVERSHAM'S ANTONY 147 visible in our Theatre, had been identified with romantic lovers and social gentlemen, in such plays as "Under the Red Robe," "Lord and Lady Algy," "Imprudence," and "Brother Officers." His first important tragic venture was made in Stephen Phillips's "Herod," and his artistic success was creditable, in a play con- taining only one really effective passage. His appearance as Antony has been observed with deep interest and well-merited admiration. His athletic person is exactly suited to the part. His manly bearing and buoyant, cheery aspect, in the Lupercal Scene, were exactly consonant with those of Antony. His passion, in the lament over the dead Ccesar^ was completely simulated and truly pathetic. His simplicity and candor, in the plausible compact with the conspirators, were thoroughly well assumed, and the lapse that Antony makes into grief and lamentation was expertly managed, so as to cause the effect of natural conduct. His utter- ance of the wUd and terrible prophecy of "blood and destruction" was fluent, vociferous, and fraught with fiery energy, and he spoke 148 TYRONE POWER the blank verse with unexpected felicity of modulation. That passage is, for Antony, the most exacting in the play, since it is a climax which must surpass the preceding climax of the assassination of Ccesar and must augment an excitement already hysterical. Faversham's delivery of Antony's fimeral speech was skilfully diversified by expressive changes of tone and of facial expression, together with an expert use of inflection, ges- ture, and pause. The exposition of actual sor- row permeated by artifice was, indeed, specially ingenious, and the use of the expedient of trans- parency (by which an actor shows the capability of seeming to be one thing to his associates on the scene and simultaneously the same and yet a different thing to the spectators in the the- atre) was adroit and highly effective. The personation somewhat lacked inherent patrician quality, and at moments the actor evinced an inappropriate peculiarity of deportment which might almost be called supercilious. All the same, his performance of Antony proved a delightful surprise, — an extraordinary effort, CHARACTER OF CASSIUS 149 a worthy and auspicious achievement, and it has met with general commendation. Cassius, immeasurably superior to Antony, is, notwithstanding his austerity, also a more immediately interesting and attractive person than Brutus, because less nearly perfect. He is highly intellectual, self-contained, ascetic; a deep thinker, a close observer; reclusive, grim of aspect, and, usually, frigid in demeanor; but intrinsically he is a good man, honest, just, and kind; a man whom Brutus loves, and for whom Titinius dies, committing suicide in order to follow his dead leader. In his colossal pride of intellect Cassius seems to censure Brutus for yielding to the persuasion of another person, even though that other is himself, but his design and endeavor to win his friend's concurrence in the conspiracy against Ccesar are, in his view, virtuous, not evil. He acts from a profound conviction that he is doing right, that his cause is just, and that the assassi- nation of Ccesar will save the Roman people from the impending rule of a despot. There is no Mephistophelian taint in either his mind 150 TYRONE POWER or his conduct. Brutus has already perceived that Ccesar is a danger to the freedom of Rome, and is already brooding over the appar- ent necessity that Ccesar should die. Cassius, indeed, can be personally resentful, can hate and scorn the individual Ccesar^ and therein he lacks the magnanimity of Brutus. Yet he is of a noble nature, and he grandly proves it, in the hour of his tragic death. He is an authentic moral enthusiast. His practical wisdom is unerring, and it would appear that but for his admiration and love of Brutus, which make him deferential, his wisdom would have crowned him with success. Three times he yields his judgment to that of Brutus, whom he reveres, and each time, in doing so, he makes a fatal mistake for their cause, — sparing the life of Antony, whom he knows to be danger- ous ; permitting that secret, wily foe to harangue the multitude over Ccesar' s corpse; and descend- ing to encounter the army of young Octavius and Marc Antony at Philippi, instead of await- ing attack, secure on the heights of Sardis. In the self -torturing spirit of Cassius there is a ALAS! POOR CASSIUS! 151 sufficient cause for an emaciated aspect and a nervous manner, but the tremendous will of the man holds his mind and body in restraint, certainly until the awful hour when he plunges his dagger into Ccesar's heart, and at all times, notwithstanding a splenetic temper and the flaws and gusts of passion, he retains his aus- tere character. Frank Keenan, who, in Faversham's pro- duction, appeared as Cassius, is an actor of marked ability, proved many times and in many characters, but not in Shakespearean tragedy and not in any form of poetic drama, — to which, indeed, he has, as Cassius, shown him- self to be unsuited, alike in mental quality, person, voice, and style. The part of Cassius being apparently new to him, it is probable that his ideal of it had not become definitely formed. As exhibited it was seen, wherever it became intelligible, to be radically wrong, and the method of its expression, in as far as it pos- sessed method, was grotesquely extravagant. The person presented as Cassius was crack- brained, malignant, turbulent, addicted to bom- 152 TYRONE POWER bastic utterance and fantastic gesticulation, a "plug-ugly," and a spouter. Concentration of mind, for which Cassius is remarkable, was indi- cated, and therein lay the chief merit of this performance; but the actor was abrupt and harsh where he should have been fervidly pas- sionate; spasmodic where he should have been intense; slow where he should have been tor- rentially swift; artificial where he should have been pathetic; and his rough delivery of Shake- speare's verse marred its melody. Cassius is fanatical in his love of freedom and hate of tyranny, and fiery in temper, but those facts afford no warrant for gyration and bluster in the stage representative of him. It is not readily comprehensible that an actor of much talent and experience should thus misinterpret a character of which the quality and constituents are obvious. Perhaps some notion of being what is called "natural" in treatment of a poetic part may have prompted Mr. Keenan's singular exhibition of mistaken judgment and erratic procedure. He exhibited great energy, earnestness, and force, but nearly everything CHARACTER OF BRUTUS 153 he did was wrong and over-done, and there was no definite, fixed purpose apparent in his wild gesture and feverish prodigality of exertion and vociferation. His exuberant and empirical con- duct not only marred his own part in the tragedy, but to some extent embarrassed his associates. Cassius is the mainspring of the action of this play, and the personation of him is vitally important to its complete dramatic effect. Mr. Keenan's performance, it is just to add, while, to me, it seemed a desecration, has pleased some of his auditors, and has been to some extent approved. If it be true, — as indisputably it is, — that in every presentation of "Julius Csesar" attention necessarily centres on Antony^ CassiuSj and Brutus, it is equally true that, — ^however the more brilliant, showy qualities of the others may gain instant popular applause, — sympathy, respect, and affection idtimately bestow them- selves more on Brutus than on either his brother-in-arms or his wily foe. This has been demonstrated over and over again. When John Philip Kemble and Charles Mayne Young 154 TYRONE POWER acted Brutus and Cassius, in London, more than a century ago. Young, as Cassius, captured rapt attention at first, but in a few nights the majesty of Kemble, exhibiting the humanity and poetry that are in Brutus, completely over- shadowed and eclipsed him. When Edwin Booth and Lawrence Barrett, — the latter being the greatest representative of Cassius who has appeared within the last sixty years and, as nearly as I can ascertain, the greatest that ever lived, — acted these parts together. Booth, as Brutus, eliciting all the sweetness, tenderness, heroism, and beauty that are in the character, while he could not eclipse Barrett's Cassius, nevertheless predominated in the esteem and affection of the public. This, which has been proved true in many antecedent performances of "Julius Cassar," proved true in Faversham's revival. As Richard Mansfield wrote to me: "After all, Brutus is the manr An aggres- sively assertive, obnoxiously obtrusive Cassius; a brilliant, elaborate, highly effective Antony; injudicious, restrictive stage-direction and stage settings, and, at two vital points, insufficient BAD STAGE-MANAGEMENT 155 light, could not and did not change this result. The stage-management of the two essential scenes, for Brutus^, in Faversham's revival was extraordinarly bad: had it been deliberately intended to "kill" the performance of Brutus it could not have been more ingeniously harmful and wrong. Faversham is known, — and he is known to be a generous, sympathetic actor, incapable of envy and the meanness that envy inspires. The fact remains, however, that the Garden Scene, in his production, as shown in New York, was so restricted by badly devised scenery, and so obscured by bad lighting, as to lay a disheartening and needless blight on the actors in it, and especially on Power. The Tent Scene, which ought to occupy the whole stage, and which assuredly should be so illumi- nated that, in the Quarrel, every variation of expression, every look, should be visible, was set as, practically, a front-scene, — there being only about eight feet between the back drop and the footlights ; and moreover it was crowded and cluttered, and so dimly lit that, except for persons in the foremost seats, much of the facial 156 TYRONE POWER expression of Power and Mr. Keenan was absolutely invisible. Those facts, and the pre- posterous placing of the Ghost of Ccesar behind Brutus, should be remembered and considered in estimating the accomplishment of Power in this difficult part, imder most disadvantageous conditions. I hear, from time to time, a tediously abundant detraction of the methods of an earlier period in our Theatre (largely from persons who know little about dramatic methods that are contemporary and nothing about those which are remote), coupled with assurance that the Present is, in all ways, superior to the Past. Perhaps it is : but I know that if Edwin Booth's stage had been so badly managed that the Ghost of Ccesar could have been seen standing behind a "transparency," in the stout person of Charles Kemble Mason, before the moment for the proper revelation of that phantom, public and press alike would have resented the bungling as unpardonable: yet, in Faversham's production, that spirit, in the material form of Mr. Fuller Mellish, was plainly discernible in the background some A FORTUNATE CHOICE 157 minutes before it ought to have become visible. A sympathetic and true performance of Brutus depends more on condition than on execution. He is designated "the noblest Roman of them all." He is the incarnation of integrity. His mind is noble, his spirit gentle, his personality massive, his life pure, his demeanor simple. He is widely known to his countrymen, and he is known only to be hon- ored. His solicitude is not for himself but for the general welfare. He is a student of phi- losophy, a thinker on the mystery of life and death, and there is something of the mental quality of Hamlet in his nature. The all-per- vading qualities of his character are honor and magnanimity. He is neither brilliant nor ostentatious, but he is intrinsically grand, and he impresses by what he is more than by what he does. The part, accordingly, is exceedingly difficult of representation, and few actors have succeeded in truly representing it. The choice of Power for Brutus proved emi- nently wise and fortunate. His impersonation of the noblest Roman was a triumphant sue- 158 TYRONE POWER cess. It does not possess the melancholy beauty and the perfect elocution that made Edwin Booth's Brutus a marvel of acting, but it is true to the poet's conception, it is saturated with the actor's strong and original personality, it is characterized by inherent and potent charm, and, while duly observant of good tradition, it is not, in any particular, an imitation. Power was seen to possess qualifications, both mental and physical, admirably fitting him for the part of the illustrious conspirator, — command- ing stature, stately demeanor, deliberate move- ment, an expressive countenance, an iatense and acutely sensitive temperament, a deep, reso- nant, melodious voice, the involuntary repose which accompanies strength, and the mental self-possession which can maintain complete control over passionate feeling. In Brutus, with whom deliberation is tem- peramental, a certain uniformity of bearing is not only appropriate but essential. Except at the climax of the Assassination, at that of the Ghost Scene, and momentarily in the Quarrel, his massive reticence is steadily preserved. Fruiii, a Fliotooruph b/j Otto Barony TYRONE POWER AS MARCUS BRUTUS, IN "JULIUS CESAR" "That every like is not the same, Owsar, The heart of Brutus yearns to think upon!" SUPERB ACTING 159 Monotony of style, therefore, is not a detriment to Power's assumption of this character. His natural dignity and observant, anxious calm, in the opening conversation with Cassius and Casca, indicated, at the outset, his perception of the quality of the part. His revealment of the tortured mind of Brutus, wherein patriotism contends with friendship, in the Garden Scene, was truthful and deeply touching, — although the meditative soliloquy ("It must be by his death," etc.) had been ruthlessly cut and prac- tically spoiled. He rose splendidly from watch- ful self-restraint to wild, passionate excitement at the culmination of the violent murder. His stern predominance and flickering anger, in the Quarrel Scene, were finely illuminative of the character, and in the parting scene between Brutus and Cassius he touched the heart by spontaneous expression of that deep tenderness, that humanity, and that unaffected, lovely, win- ning simplicity which no man can show who does not possess those qualities. His excellence in the pathetic passages was unequivocal. His personation of Brutus will, undoubtedly. 160 TYRONE POWER undergo changes and will in time mature, but already it is massive in form, deeply fraught with feeling, heroic in conception, and the most consistent and sympathetic in expression that has been shown in America within the last twenty years, and therefore it merits the hearti- est recognition in this chronicle of an auspicious actor's life. CONCLUSION.— THE NEW LEADER. It seemed to me, after seeing Power's remarkably fine performance of Brutus and calling to mind the many excellent perform- ances by which it had been preceded, that he had merited a more substantial recognition than had been accorded to him, — that he was des- tined to be the leader of the Legitimate Ameri- can Stage; and it was under the impulse of that impression that I determined to write a narra- tive of his career and a summary of his achieve- ments and character as known to me. It is at once the privilege and the duty of the critic to discern and welcome superior talents, to foster their growth and development, and to THE EARLY ACTORS 161 encourage and cheer their possessor. The actor who truly succeeds, winning enduring reputa- tion, does so by virtue of his ability and accom- plishment, not by reason of anything written about him. Advocacy of his merits, however, can help him to obtain opportunity and to some extent, — in the bitter, tumultuous strife of the- atrical competition, — can smooth his way to general understanding and support, before the leaden weight of age and disappointment makes opportunity useless. Power has shown himself artistically competent to lead, and if he con- tinues to pursue the worthily ambitious and right purpose by which his industry has hith- erto been guided he will, I believe, one day stand without a rival in the American Theatre, at the head of his profession as a tragic actor. Conjecture as to the future of the Stage is interesting to persons who enjoy the art of acting and wish that it should be fostered. Something of the future can be divined, through recollection of the past. In each successive period in the history of our Theatre some one actor of predominant personal charm, excep- 162 TYRONE POWER tional equipment, and indomitable energy has surpassed competitors, attained to eminence, and animated and colored the contemporary activities of the Stage by the thrill of his potent individuality and the influence of his peculiar style in art. In the early days of the American Theatre the versatile John Hodgkinson reigned. Then the handsome, mellifluous Cooper became sovereign, — his empire being only temporarily disputed by the erratic Fennell, the fiery, semi- insane Cooke, and the meteoric Edmund Kean. The elder Booth came next, — a dramatic genius of the highest order, — ^who might long have ruled but for the infirmities that enfeebled his sway and but for the rapid rise of the stalwart, imperial Edwin Forrest, the first great trage- dian of American birth, who firmly seized the crown and for many years retained it. Edwin Booth, a finer, gentler spirit, speaking through a more beautiful method of art, succeeded For- rest, and, though emulated by Wallack, Mur- doch, Davenport, Barrett, and McCullough, was dominant for a generation. The sceptre that fell from the dying hand of Edwin Booth A MIGHTY PUBLIC 163 was grasped and wielded by that strange, origi- nal, elusive genius, Richard Mansfield. In recent years Robert Mantell has worn the pur- ple, — ^no actor except Edward H. Sothern con- spicuously disputing his supremacy. What change is at hand in the condition of our Stage, and who will be the ruling spirit of it within the next few years? That the present condition of it will not much longer endure is obvious. My reading and my obser- vation teach me that, in every period, the sceptre of leadership in the esteem of the peo- ple is bestowed on the actor who excels in the great legitimate plays. Trashy pieces are shown by scores, but in this, as in all things, "the many fail, the one succeeds." I do not fail to perceive the frequent popularity, in the metropolis of the Western World, of such trash as "Oh, Oh, Delphine," "Roly-Poly," "Wishy-Washy," and "Blithering Drivel." But those commentators who estimate the trend of American public taste by the popu- larity of such productions do not observe theat- rical affairs with a wide, comprehensive gaze. 164 TYRONE POWER for they neglect to consider two vitally important facts: there is in New York City a large public of desirable theatre-goers which has been prac- tically alienated from regular theatre-going by certain peculiar practices of theatrical manage- ment, and, though New York City is important, this is a nation of one hundred million persons, and in the Middle West and West and in the Canadian Northwest there is a vast and wealthy population, keenly interested in the Theatre, which is so little "advanced" as not yet to know that virtue and vice are syn- onymous and that tinkling trash expounded by bare-legged, bare-backed females is superior to drama and acting. That population is heartily sick of the theatrical exhibits of triviality. The Stage must subsist by Acting. Who, then, in the time to come, will lead the way? Who will restore the golden day of Wallack, Forrest, Davenport, Booth, and Irving? Edward WU- lard, a great actor, might have done this, but he long ago retired. Mr. Sothern has signified his purpose to retire at no distant day, and being in his fifty-fifth year he is likely LOOKING FORWARD 165 to fulfil that purpose. Robert Mantell, who is in his sixtieth year and has made no addition to his splendid repertory since his production of "King John," in the season of 1907-'08, probably will soon prefer tranquillity and a well-earned repose to the nomadic life of a wandering star. John Drew, a man of sixty, has "flung away ambition" and is content to repeat, from year to year, the same pleasing exhibition of his silvery skill as a light come- dian. John Mason, a superb actor of the school of William Warren and Joseph Jefferson, shows no inclination toward the great legitimate drama or toward the heavy responsibilities of leadership, satisfying himself and his public by making exquisite studies of character. Otis Skinner, heir to the traditions of Booth and Barrett, has abandoned tragedy and adopted the ephemeral drama of fantasy. David Warfield, talented, earnest, and interesting, reached his height some time ago and is "ready to decline." Wilton Lackaye, — intellectual, of exceptionally strong character, fine dramatic ability, and ample experience, though embit- 166 TYRONE POWER tered by circumstances, — ^is capable of fine things and may do much. Goodwin, Crane, James O'lsTeill, — ^good actors, finely equipped, each proficient in his line, — are veterans now, each moving in an ever narrowing orbit of repe- tition. George Arliss is an exceptionally fine artist, a dramatic Meissonier, — as especially shown in his remarkably expert performance of Sakuri, in "The Darling of the Gods," — but, seemingly, he lacks courage and the faculty of initiative. William Faversham, whose purposes are high, who has done much and acquired friends, capital, and influence, is perhaps des- tined to hold the sceptre. Who shall say? It is perilous to prophesy, and my divination as to Power's future may prove to be idle. I remember, however, that at a time, about fifty- three years ago, when Jefferson was acting in New York, to small audiences, at the Winter Garden, as Rip Van WinMe, and attracting so little approval that his business representative, John Duff, could not always succeed in giving away tickets of admission to that performance, I ventured to assure my readers that Joseph o '^ >^ < 03 H O O P3 CO t3 O Ph H O