When Jerrold wrote "The Rent Day" the plan of the scenery was taken from Sir David Wilkie's great pictures "The Rent Day" and "Distraining for Rent." The part of Martin Hayward was written for my father. Sir David Wilkie went to see the play and cried like a baby over it. I have a letter he wrote to the then lessee of the theatre about the acting. He subsequently sent my father one of the engravings with his autograph beneath. I have the picture now. The play made a great success at the time.

Charles Kean,

Charles Kean's second visit to America was under my father's management in 1839, and he was to have acted Richard III. in the National Theatre, New York, the night it was destroyed by fire.

Another very popular actor, William E. Burton, first came to this country at my father's instance, and by his advice. Burton, as did very many of the debutants from the country theatres, had suffered from the envy and

rivalry of those already established in the good graces of London audiences. He appeared in the metropolis, if I remember rightly, at the Haymarket, as Marall to the Sir Giles Overreach of Edmund Kean. Dowton and other esteemed favorites had been familiar in this part, and Burton had, of course, to suffer the usual agonies of comparison. He was discouraged, and on the whole treated anything but fairly. In his despondent frame of mind my father, who had met him at various provincial theatres, and who well knew his powers, told him there was a fine field open to him

Mrs. Charles Kean (Ellen Tree).

in America. Accordingly Burton came to the United States. He appeared in Philadelphia, was prosperous, became an immense favorite there, and was also much appreciated in literary circles, for he was an accomplished scholar. It was a great pride and pleasure to my father to be the cause of his first appearance in New York, and to bring him out at the National Theatre. His great ability was soon acknowledged and appreciated, and his ultimate success when he took the Chambers Street house was a matter of course.

This leads me to speak here of William Mitchell, for a long time Burton's only rival. Mitchell was originally a country actor in England. I am not quite certain whether my father brought him out or

found him here, but at any rate he saw him play and was struck with his cleverness and quickness. He had been stage-manager of some of the provincial_circuits in England, and my father gave

It

him the same position in the National Theatre, which was then at the corner of Leonard and Church Streets. had been built for an opera-house for Palmo, but failed in that capacity, and when my father took it, as I have said, he gave Mitchell direction of the stage. I was over here on a mere visit then, in 1838, just as the country was recovering from the great money panic of that year; when they had "shin plasters," as they called them, instead of money, as we had during the late war. In the very zenith of the theatre's success it was burned, and the company, of course, was thrown out of employment. My father, who was a good deal knocked down at first, "shook his feathers," and as he had people coming whom he had engaged in England, he had to find some place for them, so he took Niblo's Garden and there brought out John Vandenhoff's

daughter, who made an immense success. This was very fortunate, because it enabled him to employ a number of actors who would otherwise have been idle and without salaries. When his short lease at Niblo's expired he went back to England; and Mitchell, as well as the others, had to cast about them for what they could get. Mitchell finally took what was then known as Tattersall's, and turned it into the Olympic Theatre, at 444 Broadway. He made it a cheap house and inaugurated what was the first reduction of prices, namely from one dollar to fifty cents for admission, and twenty-five cents to the pit. He began to produce travesties on everything that was played anywhere else. He had an actor named Horncastle, who had been a tenor singer in my father's company at the National, a fellow who had some talent for turning serious matter into burlesque. When, for instance, the opera of "Zampa, the Red Corsair," was brought out, they travestied it and called it "Sam Parr and his Red, Coarse Hair." This was the beginning of Mitchell's prosperity. He displayed immense activity in getting everything new which was farcical

William E. Burton.

C. W. Clarke.

and burlesque. He was ahead of everybody else, and the consequence was that his house was crowded every night. I think that under his management Chanfrau first came out as Mose. Mitchell used to talk to the boys in the pit, who paid their

George Jordan.

twenty-five cents admission, and if they were particularly noisy, or misbehaved themselves in any way, Mitchell would go on and make a speech, saying, perhaps, "Boys, if you don't behave I'll raise the price ten cents, as sure as you live," a very effectual threat.

The first serious check Mitchell received was from Burton, who was a very shrewd and exceedingly clever man. He saw from a distance, from his eyrie in Philadelphia, what Mitchell was doing; and he came here and took the Chambers Street Theatre, before long completely smothering Mitchell by doing the things he did; only doing them much better. He was a whole host in himself, certainly the first low comedian of his time. From the opening of the Chambers Street house Mitchell's Olympic went down; there is no doubt about that. Burton at last literally snuffed him out; and that, in very brief, is the history of Mitchell's theatre. Burton took care to present everything with a little better scenery, and a great deal better casts, and then he engaged John Brougham, who was worth fifty Horncastles. It was simply the very strongest attraction in New York for a long time.

Charles Walcot.

John Brougham left Burton, to go into management for himself at the little theatre on Broadway near Broome

afterward so well known as Mrs. Hoey, and also Mr. Jordan and Mr. Tom Johnston, a strong combination, he wisely determined to present the old comedies, which became his staple commodity for that season and the next. At the end of the first of these I went to England, where I found my father rapidly recoving from what had been a very serious illness; and under the advice of his physicians I persuaded him to return to America with me. During the season which followed our arrival I was still fulfilling my second engagement at Burton's; and all this time Brougham's management was, as he himself described it to me, "a struggle; things continually going from bad to worse." It having been ascertained that Brougham must positively retire from the management, Major Rogers, the owner, determined to offer the house to my father, and the story of the transaction is rather a curious one, and perhaps worth repeating. They had various meetings on the subject of a lease, my father thinking

VOL. IV.-63

which occur between people who are striking a bargain. They met finally on the stage one day when the theatre was quite empty and in charge of a janitor, and my father said: "Well, my dear Major Rogers, that ends the affair. I have made the best proposal I can afford, and therefore we must, I suppose, let the matter drop; but although the house is not a very good one, not so full as I could wish, I will try to explain to the audience;" whereupon he walked down the stage, and addressed the empty seats as follows: "Ladies and gentlemen, in consequence of the impossibility of a definite arrangement between Major Rogers and myself, I beg first to tender to him my thanks for the patience with which he has listened to my unsuccessful arguments, and to offer to you my regrets that the kind and flattering desires that have been expressed, through the newspapers, and, by many of you, individually, that I should have the honor of catering for your amusement here cannot be real

That's enough; I consent to every thing!" and the bargain was struck. The first thing my father did when he took possession of the Lyceum was to engage Brougham and Blake; and naturally, of course, I also cast in my fortune with him, and became his stage manager and leading man.

A lady came to me one day and said she had heard that we were going to bring out a burlesque written by John Brougham and called "Pocahontas." This was a Miss Georgiana Hodson, one of the handsomest women I ever saw. My father was ill in bed at this time, and I talked the matter over with her. I thought she looked like the sort of woman we wanted for the part. She had played in Boston, where she was a favorite, but she was anxious to make a New York appearance; so she was engaged, and "Pocahontas" was produced with great success. The piece was immensely clever, and Brougham and Walcot were delightful in it. There was a Mr. Fred Lyster in the company who

One

matters until at last he persuaded Miss Hodson that there was a gold mine waiting for her in California. night, when I had acted in the first piece and was, as my father's representative, looking after matters, the prompter came to me in a great hurry and said: "Mr. Wallack, Miss Hodson hasn't arrived." I replied: "The first piece is over; she must be here; she must certainly be dressing by this time." "She has not arrived, sir;" reiterated the prompter. I thought she might be ill, and sent to her residence to inquire; but Miss Hodson had gone, bag and baggage; and the position the management was in was a very peculiar one indeed. "Pocahontas was a great attraction then, and what to do I did not know. I went down to tell Mr. Brougham and Mr. Walcot, who dressed in the same room. I said: "Gentlemen, we are in a fix; Miss Hodson has cut and run with Mr. Lyster and his company-all gone, I don't know where : except that I heard some talk and gos