Mary Anderson.

Auckland Star, Volume XXVII, Issue 108, 9 May 1896, Page 4 (Supplement)

Mary Anderson.

Some Memories of Her Caeeek.

(From Our Special Correspondent.)

London, March 21. Though the colonies were never fortunate enough to see ' Mary Anderson ' in the flesh, they hoard a good deal about the charming American actress, and followed her brief | but brilliant career with almost aa great on ; interest as her uncle who was United Statos Conaul first in Auckland and later in Sydney. I make no doubb, therefore, the interesting volume of reminiscences which Mme. de Navarro has just presented us with will be eagerly road ac the Antipodes. Its cardinal feature is fehe diatrusb and distaste with which the stage inspired her, and which increased with experience. Really, however, this is not surprising. Mise Anderson's love for her calling was genuine enough, bub she bad not the geniua which could alone recompen«e a woman of hor religious temperament for all the vanities, the! trickeries, and the contemptible littlenesses of the profession. Her beet parts were those in which she was aa cold as a stone. Occasionally elie rose to considerable heighte, as oo the factions premiere of 'Comedy and Tragedy,' bub ordinarily »he was—as eomebody pub ib— •exquisitely unsatisfactory.' i The Toilsome Koad to Fame. She was fourteen years of ace when she i decided to go on thu stage, and the decision then taken was followed op by etndy. Later Miss Gushman saw her acb privately, and encouraged her to go on. Mr John McCullough'introduced her to the manager of the Louisville Theatre, Mr Barney Macauley, saying, 'Barney, when can you pub this girl on the abage ? If lam a judge of the matter she will make a fortune for you.' She appeared as •Julieb,' and although such remarks as • Why, it's little Mamis Anderson. How strange ! It'a only a few months ago since I saw her rolling a hoop !' ran through the house, she made a hib, and her stage career was begun in earnest. But ib was nob all plain sailing by any means. Nob long afterwards she was playing in San Francisco, and her appearance there was, she says, the most unhappy part of her professional life :— * With buo few exceptions the members of the numerous company continually ridiculed my work. My poor wardrobe was a subjecb of special sporb to the gorgeously-dressed women ; and unkind remarks about " the ! interloper " were heard on every side. The press cut me up, or rather tried to cub mo ' down, advising me to leave the stage. Con. tinual taunts from actors and journalists nearly broke my epirib. I slept bud little, and then only towards morning, from the exhaustion of weeping all night.' Booth was in San Francisco at the time, and gave her some kindly advice, and her difficulties became less marked. With the public she continually grew in favour, and she tells of one urchin who. afbor a morniner performance, took up his position •ab tba theatre door, and as she entered the carriage, looked ab her tvistfully, and, holding out his dirty little hand, remarked, 'I say, Mary, do give us a kiss !' Wilkib Collins and ' The Moonstone.' During h6r public career in London Mieß Anderson met many prominent men, among them Wilkie Collins. Ho ■■■vas ab that time a great sufferer, and he told Mha Anderson that* it was under the potent influence of opium that he invented the denouement of 'The Moonstone:'— lI could find no amanuensis,' he said, • to take down my dictation uninterruptedly, for, ab every paroxysm of pain they would invariably stop work to come to my assistance. Finally, a young girl was found who wrote on steadily in spite of my cries. To her I dictated much, , of the book ; the last part largely under ! the effects of opium. When ib was finished < I was nob only pleased and astonished at the finale, but did °nob recognise ik as my own.' The acbrees once praised one of his books. * Ab,' he answered, "I am only an old fellow who has a liking for story telliug, i nothing more.' i Robert Browning.. Browning was another celebrity with whom Misa Anderson was acquainted. She met him first at a party :—' He took me in to dinner, and my first impression of him was thab ha resembled one of our oldechool Southern country gentlemen more than my ideal of England's mystic poet. There was a kind of friendly chafedness in his conversation, more agreeable, I thought, than distineuiehed. 1 should have named any of the men at table sooner than him as the author of " Kabbi Ben Ezra" and " Fippa Pasaes."' She saw him frequently after that, and though 'always charming and often amusing,' lie never appealed to her as much as either Longfellow or Tennyson. Memories of Tenittson. Of the late Laureate Miss Anderson supplies some very interesting resniniscencea. She was introduced to him at the Deanery of Westminster, and her firßfi feeling was one of keen disappointment Sha bhoughb he was ' gruff,' bub on knowing him better she found him possessed of.' one of the kindest and most sympathetic natures.' Later she visited the Tennyiaons ab Aldworbh on many occasions. The poeb • was merciless on all who made a wrong use of word?, and pulled one up severely for speaking of something trivial aa "awfully nice."' Sometimes Miss Anderson had the happiness of accompanying the poet on the two hours' walk which, rain or shine, he took daily :—' His tender interest in every " bad and flower and leaf" was charming. How many pretty legends ho had about each. The cliffs, the sky, the sea, the shrubs, the very lump 3of chalk underfoot, he had a word for them all. The thine* he read in Nature's book were full of the same kind of poetry as his own ; and the • gunbeams of hi» cheerfulspirib 1. ftaod all toy memories of those delightful walks. Though nearer eighty than seventy, his step was so rapid, he moved so briskly, that it waa with difficulty J kept) up wjth him. The last twenby minutes of the' two hours generally ended in a kind of trot. Weather never interrupted his exercise.' Tennyeon'a conversation on these ramblea waa often interspersed with illustrative stories, many of them comic. s

For whab Miss Aodereon has to say of Mr Gladstone, Cardinal Newman, Cardinal Manning—who, by fche way, had prayed earnestly for her retirement from the stage —Aubrey de Vere, Longfellow and others, as well as many attractive bits or biography, our readers • must consult the book itself. It contains Borne half dozen admirable portraits, and we shall bo surprised if it is not one of the most popular works of the season.