American Men of Mind

by Burton Egbert Stevenson

During his career, he had given 13,345 performances and had appeared in 577 characters, a record which has probably never been approached. He was especially notable in his representations of the "fine old English gentleman," and he became to Boston a sort of Conservatory of Acting in himself. That he was appreciated both as man and artist his long residence in Boston proves.

He was a cousin of one of the best loved actors who ever trod the American stage—Joseph Jefferson; but their careers were very different, for Jefferson, in the last quarter century of his life confined himself to a few parts—practically to four, Bob Acres, Rip Van Winkle, Dr. Pangloss and Cabel Plummer. In these he was inimitable. Something is gained and lost, of course, by either of these methods; one is inclined to think the wiser plan, that making for the greatest achievement, is a wide diversity of parts, and constant creation of new ones. And yet, when one looks back upon Jefferson's delicate and cameo-clear impersonations, one would not have him different.

Joseph Jefferson was the third of his name to challenge American theatre-goers. His grandfather, born in England, in 1774, came to America twenty-three years later and spent the remainder of his life here, gaining some reputation as a comedian. His father is said to have had little ability, and to have been careless and improvident. The third of the name was born in Philadelphia in 1829, and began his stage career at the age of three, appearing as the child in "Pizarro," which must have frightened him nearly to death.

His father died when he was only fourteen, and the lad joined a company of strolling players, who made their way through Texas, and during the war with Mexico, followed the American army into Mexican territory. American drama was in no great demand, so at Matamoras Jefferson opened a stall for the sale of coffee and other refreshments, making enough money to get back to the United States.

For the next ten years he appeared in stock companies in the larger eastern cities, meeting such players as Edwin Forrest, James E. Murdoch, and Edwin Adams; but the one who influenced him most was his own half-brother, Charles Burke, an unusually accomplished serio-comic. William Warren also ranked high in his affections.

The turning point of his career came in 1857 when he became associated with Laura Keene at her theatre in New York. Here his first part was one with which he was afterwards so closely identified, that of Dr. Pangloss, and then came "Our American Cousin," in which he gained a notable success as Asa Trenchard, and in which Edward A. Sothern laid the foundation of the fantastic character of Lord Dundreary, which was to make him famous. A year later, he created another of his great characters, Caleb Plummer, in "The Cricket on the Hearth," and soon afterwards, the most famous of all, Rip Van Winkle, which remained to the end his supreme impersonation.

After that time, his career was a golden and happy one. He won the affection of the American public as perhaps no recent player has ever done. His art had a peculiarly wide appeal because it was fine and sweet; he won sympathy and inspired affection; and seemed the very embodiment of the tender, artless and lovable characters it was his joy to represent.

Jefferson's death marked the passing of the last of the "old school"—that mellow, fluent, and accomplished circle of players who seem so different to their successors. But public taste is different too. We care no longer for the rantings and heroics of Virginius and Spartacus and all the rest of those toga-clothed gentlemen who differed from each other only in their names. We demand something more subtle, more—yes, let us say it!—intellectual. The modern who came nearest to answering this demand, to showing us the complex thing which we know human nature to be, was Richard Mansfield. A great artist, whom no difficulty appalled, he gave the American public, season after season, the most significant procession of worthy dramas that one man ever produced.

Mansfield was born in Heligoland in 1857, and studied for the East Indian civil service, but came to Boston and opened a studio, studied art, and then suddenly abandoned it for the stage. Curiously enough, he began with small parts in comic opera, and a few years later, made one of the funniest Kokos who ever appeared in "The Mikado." But he soon changed to straight drama, and the first great success of his career was as Baron Chevrial in "A Parisian Romance," a part which was given him after other actors had refused to take it, and in which he created a real sensation. His reputation was secure after that, and grew steadily until the swift and complete collapse from over-work, which ended his life at the age of fifty-one.

Are there any great players alive in America to-day? E. H. Sothern, perhaps, comes nearest to greatness, and has at least won respectful attention by a sincerity and earnestness which have accomplished much. He is the son of Edward Askew Sothern, whose career was a most peculiar one. Intended for the ministry, he chose the stage instead, apparently with no talent for it, and for six or seven years, only the most unimportant of minor parts were entrusted to him.