I was, fortunately, blessed with a wonderful memory. I knew every song, every number of the music and every word of the dialogue in the opera; in fact, starting from the opening lines I could read it right through. They found me about half past five in the afternoon, and I went over to the theater.
Mr. Carleton met me, and came at me with the rather surprising question: "Can you play Bigelow's part?"
I said, "Yes, sir."
He said: "Do you want a rehearsal?" I said: "No, sir."
"All right," he said; "then be here at seven o'clock."
I went on that night and never missed a number. In the middle of the performance, Mr. Carleton said to me:
"Now, let loose. Do anything you like."
Being exceedingly limber, I did a slide down the run, stumbling over everything, and made a hit from the start. From that time on I took liberties that no one else in the company dared.
Mr. Carleton was a very strict disciplinarian, but he always encouraged me to go ahead. After two or three years playing leading rôles in the principal opera companies, I determined to step forward and go after "the big things." So back to New York I came, still unknown.
After waiting around for three months, I decided that the world was against me; that a bright and shining light was being crushed. Also, that a law ought to be passed whereby no Englishman could come to this country and play.