SECOND VISIT TO EUROPE.--EXPERIENCES ON THE ENGLISH STAGE.
The interval of five years which elapsed between Mary Anderson's first and
second visits to Europe was busily occupied by starring tours in the
States and Canada. Mr. Henry Abbey's first proposal, in 1883, for an
engagement at the Lyceum was met with the same negative which had been
given to that of Mr. Augustus Harris. But, happening some time afterward
to meet her step-father, Dr. Griffin, in Baltimore, Mr. Abbey again urged
his offer, to which a somewhat reluctant consent was at length given. The
most ambitious moment of her artist-life seemed to have arrived at last.
If she attained success, the crown was set on all the previous triumphs of
her art; if failure were the issue, she would return to America
discredited, if not disgraced, as an actress. The very crisis of her
stage-life had come now in earnest. It found her despondent, almost
despairing; at the last moment she was ready to draw back. She had then
none of the many friends who afterward welcomed her with heartfelt
sincerity whenever the curtain rose on her performance. She saw Irving in
"Louis XI." and "Shylock." The brilliant powers of the great actor filled
her at once with admiration and with dread, when she remembered how soon
she too must face the same audiences. She sought to distract herself by
making a round of the London theaters, but the most amusing of farces
could hardly draw from her a passing smile, or lift for a moment the
weight of apprehension which pressed on her heart. The very play in which
she was destined first to present herself before a London audience was
condemned beforehand. To make a _debut_ as Parthenia was to court certain
failure. The very actors who rehearsed with her were Job's comforters. She
saw in their faces a dreary vista of empty houses, of hostile critics, of
general disaster. She almost broke down under the trial, and the sight of
her first play-bill which told that the die was irrevocably cast for good
or evil made her heart sink with fear. On going down to the theater upon
the opening night she found, with mingled pleasure and surprise, that on
both sides of the Atlantic fellow artists were regarding her with kindly
sympathizing hearts. Her dressing-room was filled with beautiful floral
offerings from many distinguished actors in England and America, while
telegrams from Booth, McCullough, Lawrence Barrett, Irving, Ellen Terry,
Christine Nilsson, and Lillie Langtry, bade her be of good courage, and
wished her success. The overture smote like a dirge on her ear, and when
the callboy came to announce that the moment of her entrance was at hand,
it reminded her of nothing so much as the feeling of mourners when the
sable mute appears at the door, as a signal to form the procession to the
tomb. But in a moment the ordeal was safely passed, and passed forever so
far as an English audience is concerned. Seldom has any actress received
so warm and enthusiastic a reception. Mary Anderson confesses now that
never till that moment did she experience anything so generous and so
sympathetic, and offered to one who was then but "a stranger in a strange
land." Mary Anderson's Parthenia was a brilliant success. Her glorious
youth, her strange beauty, her admirable impersonation of a part of
exceptional difficulty, won their way to all hearts. A certain amount of
nervousness and timidity was inevitable to a first performance. The sudden
revulsion of feeling, from deep despondency to complete triumphant
success, made it difficult, at times, for the actress to master her
feelings sufficiently to make her words audible through the house. One
candid youth in the gallery endeavored to encourage her with a kindly
"Speak up, Mary." The words recalled her in an instant to herself, and for
the rest of the evening she had regained her wonted self-possession.
From that time till Mary Anderson's first Lyceum season closed, the world
of London flocked to see her. The house was packed nightly from floor to
ceiling, and she is said to have played to more money than the
distinguished lessee of the theater himself. Among the visitors with whom
Mary Anderson was a special favorite were the prince and princess. They
witnessed each of her performances more than once, and both did her the
honor to make her personal acquaintance, and compliment her on her
success. So many absurd stories have been circulated as to Mary Anderson's
alleged unwillingness to meet the Prince of Wales, that the true story may
as well be told once for all here. On one of the early performances of
"Ingomar," the prince and princess occupied the royal box, and the prince
caused it to be intimated to Mary Anderson that he should be glad to be
introduced to her after the third act. The little republican naively
responded that she never saw any one till after the close of the
performance. H.R.H. promptly rejoined that he always left the theater
immediately the curtain fell. Meanwhile the manager represented to her the
ungraciousness of not complying with a request which half the actresses in
London would have sacrificed their diamonds to receive. And so at the
close of the third act Mary Anderson presented herself, leaning on her
father's arm, in the anteroom of the royal box. Only the prince was there,
and "He said to me," relates Mary Anderson, "more charming things than
were ever said to me, in a few minutes, in all my life. I was delighted
with his kindness, and with his simple pleasant manner, which put me at my
ease in a moment; but I was rather surprised that the princess did not see
me as well." The piece over, and there came a second message, that the
princess also wished to be introduced. With her winning smile she took
Mary Anderson's hand in hers, and thanking her for the pleasure she had
afforded by her charming impersonation, graciously presented Mary with her
own bouquet.
The true version of another story, this time as to the Princess of Wales
and Mary Anderson, may as well now be given. One evening Count Gleichen
happened to be dining _tete-a-tete_ with the prince and princess at
Marlborough House. When they adjourned to the drawing-room, the princess
showed the count some photographs of a young lady, remarking upon her
singular beauty, and suggesting what a charming subject she would make for
his chisel. The count was fain to confess that he did not even know who
the lady was, and had to be informed that she was the new American
actress, beautiful Mary Anderson. He expressed the pleasure it would give
him to have so charming a model in his studio, and asked the princess
whether he was at liberty to tell Mary Anderson that the suggestion came
from her, to which the princess replied that he certainly might do so.
Three replicas of the bust will be executed, of which Count Gleichen
intends to present one to her royal highness, another to Mary Anderson's
mother, while the third will be placed in the Grosvenor Gallery. This is
really all the foundation for the story of a royal command to Count
Gleichen to execute a bust of Mary Anderson for the Princess of Wales.
Among those who were constant visitors at the Lyceum was Lord Lytton, or
as Mary Anderson loves to call him, "Owen Meredith." Her representation of
his father's heroine in "The Lady of Lyons" naturally interested him
greatly, and it is possible he may himself write for her a special play.
Between them there soon sprung up one of those warm friendships often seen
between two artist natures, and Lord Lytton paid Mary Anderson the
compliment of lending her an unpublished manuscript play of his father's
to read. Tennyson, too, sought the acquaintance of one who in his verse
would make a charming picture. He was invited to meet her at dinner at a
London house, and was her cavalier on the occasion. The author of "The
Princess" did not in truth succeed in supplanting in her regard the bard
of her native land, Longfellow; but he so won on Mary's heart that she
afterward presented him with the gift--somewhat unpoetic, it must be
admitted--of a bottle of priceless Kentucky whisky, of a fabulous age!
If Mary Anderson was a favorite with the public before the curtain, she
was no less popular with her fellow artists on the stage. Jealousy and
ill-will not seldom reign among the surroundings of a star. It is a trial
to human nature to be but a lesser light revolving round some brilliant
luminary--but the setting to adorn the jewel. But Mary Anderson won the
hearts of every one on the boards, from actors to scene-shifters. And at
Christmas, in which she is a great believer, every one, high or low,
connected with the Lyceum, was presented with some kind and thoughtful
mark of her remembrance. And when the season closed, she was presented in
turn, on the stage, with a beautiful diamond suit, the gift of the fellow
artists who had shared for so long her triumphs and her toils.
Mary Anderson's success in London was fully indorsed by the verdict of the
great provincial towns. Everywhere she was received with enthusiasm, and
hundreds were nightly turned from the doors of the theaters where she
appeared. In Edinburgh she played to a house of £450, a larger sum than
was ever taken at the doors of the Lyceum. The receipts of the week in
Manchester were larger than those of any preceding week in the theatrical
history of the great Northern town. Taken as a whole, her success has been
without a parallel on the English stage. If she has not altogether escaped
hostile criticism in the press, she has won the sympathies of the public
in a way which no artist of other than English birth has succeeded in
doing before her. They have come and gone, dazzled us for a time, but have
left behind them no endearing remembrance. Mary Anderson has found her way
to our hearts. It seems almost impossible that she can ever leave us to
resume again the old life of a wandering star across the great American
continent. It may be rash to venture a prophecy as to what the future may
bring forth; but thus much we may say with truth, that, whenever Mary
Anderson departs finally from our shores, the name of England will remain
graven on her heart.