We enjoyed hearing many theatrical anecdotes which gave us peeps behind the scenes. Mr. Jefferson told us of a mistake he once made in “Lend Me Five Shillings.” Forgetting that he had already delivered certain lines, he repeated them—no applause followed! Just as he was wondering what the matter was, the actress with whom he was playing whispered, “You have repeated your lines.” William Warren confessed that he had had a somewhat similar experience in “Our American Cousin,” when he struck a match by the right end, lighting it, to his horror and surprise. According to the play, he should have struck the wrong end—and the mistake drove his part out of his head for a moment, when a fellow-actor gave him his lines, in a stage whisper! William Warren, “the Boston favorite,” was a relative of Joseph Jefferson or of Mrs. Jefferson. They called him “Uncle William,” and all treated him with the most affectionate respect. He was the eldest of the three actors, and already in failing health. Hence he was grave and quiet in manner when we saw him in private life, although inimitably funny on the stage. It seldom happens that so excellent an actor is content to remain all his life a member of a stock company, performing in a single city—but this was Warren’s choice. The strong affection in which he was held was doubtless a compensation to this inimitable actor for the loss of a wider fame. He died not long after this time.
We found our hospitable and kindly host, Edwin Booth, little changed from the old days when we had so devoutly admired him. There were the same charm and simplicity of manner, the same sense of humor. His eyes still had the old fire, while the cheerful serenity of middle life replaced the buoyant happiness of his younger days. He spoke very simply of the time when he was a young man. I did not like to think that Edwin Booth ever could grow old. He was still in the prime of life, handsome and vigorous.
Of his profession, of the stage and of Shakespeare, he liked to talk, and we liked only too well to listen. He had recently brought home from Germany some of the tokens of intense admiration that were showered upon him there—wreaths of silver, and perhaps of gold, also.
What to do with these he did not know. Mantel lambrequins then afflicted the world. I fear it was I who suggested that the classic garlands might be sewn on these with decorative effect!
Edwin Booth was too reserved and too kind-hearted to play the habitual mimic, yet he could, upon occasion, imitate to the life the person described. Once, when telling us of an experience in the far West while he was traveling with his father, he suddenly became a knock-kneed, shambling man. In a moment he was again Edwin Booth, grave and dignified.
XVIII
OUR CHILDREN AT HOME, SCHOOL AND COLLEGE
An Attic Fairy.—Our Child Artist Grinds Her Own Paints.—Scholarships and Athletics at Harvard University.—Our Youngest Wins an “H.”—American Girls’ Club in Paris.—Caroline’s Pictures Exhibited in the New Salon.
OUR children received their early education at home and at the house of our good friend, Mrs. Sykes. When the boys were well started in their lessons we sent them to the neighboring public school. Here their proficiency in reading was resented by their contemporaries. An aristocracy of learning is quite as offensive to boy nature as any other form of superiority. The school was coeducational, but in spite of this some of the boys were pretty rough. It was a good thing for our sons, however, to learn young to take their own part and to rub elbows with all sorts and conditions of children. The public-school system of America is an indispensable feature of our democracy.
All our sons were prepared for college at Mr. Leal’s excellent private school in Plainfield. A schoolmate declared that when Mr. Leal called Sam up to recite he would open the Greek book, lay it affectionately upon the boy’s knee, pat it, and tell the latter to begin. Thereupon Sam proceeded to reel off page after page of the text, as if he had been a species of classic hand-organ. He was now too big, however, to have his head punched for his proficiency. I was glad to help my children with their home studies, thus reviving my acquaintance with Messrs. Virgil, Cæsar and Company. But assisting them with their arithmetic and algebra was very hard work. To present a mathematical idea so that a child will clearly understand it is not easy. Perhaps that is the reason why teachers so often leave this task to the luckless parents. This is all wrong.