[1907] Ada Patterson - Maude Adams; A Biography

8/3/2019 [1907] Ada Patterson - Maude Adams; A Biography

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MAUDE ADAMS

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Photo Fowler


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MAUDE ADAMSA BIOGRAPHY

ByAda PattersonAutbor of "By tlie Stage Door." cte.

NEW YORKMEYER BROS. ^ CO.PUBLISHERS


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Copyright, 1907,BY

Meyer Bros. & Co.


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Maude AdamsHAT winsome MaudeAdams, kin to the great onesof earth by the commonbond of gn exquisite talentdeveloped to the uttermost, is by ties

of blood the kinswoman of two Presi-dents of the United States, is a fact thatshe has modestly hidden but whichattested and authentic records of gene-alogy prove.One Joshua Adams was the cousin andboyhood chum of John Quincy Adams.Manhood's stern responsibilities andobligations separated the cousins. JohnQuincy Adams* path led him to the


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MAUDE ADAMSPresidency of the United States. JoshuaAdams moved to Canada. The eldestson of Joshua Adams fell in with aparty of Mormon missionaries, and loveof travel and adventure led him to fol-low them from Canada to Salt LakeCity. Miss Annie Adams, the daughterof this emigrant to Utah, made herdebut on the stage of the theatre builtby Brigham Young and which stillstands in the quaint capital of theMormon intermountain dominion. Shebecame Mrs. James Kiskadden. Whenthe child grew to the estate of an ac-tress she, by her mother's wish, and be-cause the Kiskadden family had thetraditional prejudice against the theatre,caused the first two names only to beprinted on the programmes. The nameKiskadden was dropped except for purelybusiness purposes. Should those whoread these pages ever receive a chequeor a receipt for services rendered from


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A BIOGRAPHYthe most popular dramatic star inAmerica the document would be signedMaude Adams Kiskadden. But forprofessional purposes, since she reachedthe years of free choice, she has con-tinued to use the name which in a for-mer decade her mother had made mem-orable in the theatrical annals of thePacific Slope, that fine old New Englandname which has appeared twice on theroster of the Chief Executives of theseUnited States.James Kiskadden, the father of her whois widely known and as widely loved asMaude Adams, was himself of an ex-cellent old Ohio family, a few scions ofwhich still reside in that state. He wasa banker, and because of his handsomeface and magnetic personality, was oneof the most popular young men in Utah.He died when his little daughter wasseven years old. Vaguely but affection-ately she remembers the debonnair,

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MAUDE ADAMShandsome young father, and in cabinet,under lock and key, keeps as sacredrelics the few souvenirs that remain ofhim, a faded photograph, a watch fob wornthin, a lock of hair, thick and soft andashen brown like her own. Calling at afriend's apartment she saw an engravedcopy ofHans Makart's "Diana's Chase.""I remember that picture," she saidwith the wistful tenderness so effectivebecause so sincere in "The Little Min-ister" and " Peter Pan." "It was myfather's. It hung over his desk in ourhome in Salt Lake City."Maude Adams was born Novembernth, 1 872, in one of the simple cottagesof structure peculiar to the Zion of theLatter-Day Saints. It was an unosten-tatious birthplace, a narrow, two-storyadobe house, with a lean-to for summerconvenience in the matter of kitchenand laundry details. The house standsnear Liberty Park. At the time the

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SaronyPORTRAIT OF MAUDE ADAMS TAKEN ABOUT THE TIME SHEFIRST CAME TO NEW YORK


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A BIOGRAPHYcottage was regarded as a country resi-dence. Now it is in the compact portionof the city, where Seventh East streetwhich means that it is the seventh streeteast of the Mormon Temple, a centrefrom which all streets begin and arerelatively namedintersects EighthSouth, which is the eighth street southof the temple of mysterious rites. Onthe first day of her arrival, when insolemn family council, at which hergrandmother, the now venerable Mrs.Julia Adams, presided, it was decidedformally that the small pink bundle ofhumanity resembled her mother in allher physical attributes, and her father intemperament and character. It was alsodecided that her name should be Maude,and at once with grandmotherly pre-rogative Mrs. Julia Adams referred tothe small stranger as " Maudie."As "Maudie" she was known and billedon theatre programmes until, by virtue

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MAUDE ADAMSof long skirts and a mass of brown hairwith golden glints in it piled high on herhead, she insisted upon dropping thenow superfluous and undignified "i."Her first few months were spent in theimportant, though seemingly insignif-icant manner of infants. She playedpeek-a-boo with the sunbeams that fellacross her crib in the same delightedway that ordinary babies play hide andseek with solar rays. She cried verylittle, but when she did, the family tra-ditions affirm, she cried hard, which,according to the character readings ofsage mothers and nurses, proved thatthe baby would achieve a quietly de-termined character before she reachedher grown up state. The same fragilityof physical makeup, a healthy frailness,the physician called it, denoting thatthough her frame was slight the consti-tution was keyed to health, characterizedher babyhood as her maturity. She was

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A BIOGRAPHYgentle, and to those she knew well,affectionate, as now. She was shy withother babies, looking upon them withmild-eyed wonder that there was anyhuman specimen so small as this, andfound more pleasure in the companion-ship of her elders.She loved demonstratively her mother,whom she saw less often than she wouldhave liked, for Mrs. Kiskadden resumedher playing in the stock company of theBrigham Young Theatre soon after thelittle one's birth. Her grandmotherwas her playmate, enjoyed and admon-ished in turn. Her handsome youngfather was the special object of the baby'sworship. They were rare chums. Be-side the old-fashioned fireplace in theold adobe house near the park theyoung man sat on winter evenings withthe wee baby in his arms. By hercommand he talked to her or sang toher, but quite as often they sat silent,

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MAUDE ADAMSlooking into each other's eyes, smilingoften at each other as do those whounderstand. Visitors to the Adamshome said the mental communion be-tween the two was perfect. They saidit was because Love was the interpreterof their unspoken thoughts.Surrounded by the loving care of thistrio whom she loved, her rare glimpsesof the world being from the high old-fashioned windows, and between thehalf-open doors of her home, or fromher perambulator, from which she gazedmore interestedly at trees and flowers,and skipping squirrels, and far offclouds,than at the persons who peeped into thecarriage and said ''that's Annie Adams'baby," the first months of her baby-hood passed as pleasantly as baby couldwish. She had dolls but preferred thesociety of a brindle dog that came foot-sore to the house to beg and stayedbecause the fair-haired, blue-eyed baby,

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A BIOGRAPHYwith beseeching arms about his neck,begged him to remain."But he's only a tramp dog," remon-strated her grandmother. "I will getyou a nice, clean dog.""Love tramp dog," protested the baby,preparing to "cry hard." The babyprevailed. The dog was a guest of thehousehold until he died of old age.Maudie Adams, baby, was as tender toanimals as is Maude Adams, woman.She whom they called Maudie spenther life uneventfully, her paths beingthose of placid pleasantness, until ateight months there occurred a develop-ment which made her the show baby ofthe neighborhood, and infant wonderof all Salt Lake City.A friend of the family called one eve-ning bringing the baby a gift, a wonder-ful box of red and blue alphabet blocks.He played house building with her ona rug before the fire, telling her the

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MAUDE ADAMSnames of the letters on each block asthe building went forward. Before heleft he found, to his amazement, thatthe baby had learned her letters in thatsingle play lesson. And she never for-got them. Before she was a year oldthe primer was superfluous. She hadtaught herself to read.At the age of nine months, and unex-pectedly, little Maudie Adams madeher first appearance on the stage. Mrs.Annie Adams, as a member of the SaltLake City stock company, made up oflocal talent and known as the HomeDramatic Company, was supporting avisiting star in a play "The CottageGirl." The melodrama was followedby a farce entitled "The Lost Child."The cast of the farce was a small oneand Mrs. Adams, having no part in it,remained to see the new piece. Thefarce hinged upon a child's identity,and the infant was a prominent figure

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A BIOGRAPHYin it, and had to be brought on and offseveral times. Having been rushed onand off the stage until it was nearlybreathless, the little one was finally-brought into the room by a waiter whoset it on the table before its father'swondering eyes. The infant who wasutilized for the part performed itsthinking role placidly enough in theseveral rushes on and off the stage.Mrs. Adams, having assured herselfthat the nurse and Maudie were waitingfor her at the stage door, and had cometo take her home as usual, lingered inthe wings to see the rest of the play.A shriek, infantile and pronounced anduncompromising, cut the air. Thewomen who were not engaged in theplay ran to the quarter whence camethe noise. The mother of the infantactor was nearly distracted."He's mad," she said. "There'snothing the matter with his clothes nor

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MAUDE ADAMSwith him. It's just temper. He don'twant to act any more. When hecommences like that he hollers for anhour."The farce was moving forward in thedouble-quick time of farces. Thereremained but three minutes before thechild should be carried before the as-tounded father. The manager was inthe throes of despair. Looking hope-lessly about, he glanced past Mrs.Adams who stood beside the call board,and caught a glimpse of an infantsmiling up into her nurse's face fromthe cozy pink depths of a perambulator.With a run and slide he crossed thehall, snatched the baby out of her car-riage, ran back with her to where thewaiter stood with useless platter in alimp hand, thrust the baby upon theplatter and the platter into the waiter'shands. A second later the audienceshouted its delight. The laughs the

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A BIOGRAPHYdistraught stage manager had workedfor were heard, but there were others.Why this added volume of laughter?The manager of the house came backto explain." The other baby was two months old.This one is at least nine. It's growntwenty pounds in five minutes. Whosebaby is it.''"" Don't know," was the reply. " Justa baby I saw hanging around."The little one, sitting upon the platter,heard the roar of laughter. It was acheerful sound. She smiled at it. Asit continued she crawled forward andwith hands resting upon the platterblinked and cooed at the vague mass infront. At which the audience laughedamid "Bravos." Her first appearanceupon any stage was, therefore, auspicious.Notwithstanding her undeniable hit onthis occasion Maudie Adams went backto private life after her debut. She re-

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MAUDE ADAMSsumed her sunbeam chasing, her block-house building, her silent smiling com-munion with * fader' and her caresses ofthe brindle dog, and was content. Shelived thus until, when she was fouryears old, Mr. and Mrs. Kiskaddenremoved to San Francisco, the wifecontinuing on the stage. While shewas playing with J. K. Emmet in" Fritz in Ireland," the star becamedissatisfied with the little girl who wasplaying the child's role. He hadnoticed the bright-faced little onewho sometimes came to the stagedoor with her mother and had inquiredher name." Why don't you let Maudie play thispart?" he asked while voicing his com-plaints of the wooden bit of humanitywho walked through it." I will ask her father," responded Mrs.Kiskadden. That night at dinner shekept her promise to the manager.

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Sarony AS NELL IN "THE LOST PARADISE"


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A BIOGRAPHY" Mr. Emmet would like Maudie totry the child's part," she said. "Whatdo you think about it ? "" Certainly not. I don't want the childto go on the stage and make a fool ofherself."The four-year-old who had been per-mitted to sit at the table that night laiddown her knife and fork with precisionand looked gravely across at her father." Fader," she said, " I won't make afool of myself."Her father laughed and consented.The child studied her lines avidly andlearned them in one day. She playedthe part to her own and her mother'sand Mr. Emmet's satisfaction. Theonly lapse from professional gravity anddecorum was when, having been tiedto a water-wheel and told that she mustscream at a particular moment, sheinjected a speech not set down in herpart.

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MAUDE ADAMS" Mamma," she asked, " must I scweamnow?"She finished the season with Mr.Emmet, then went back to domesticexistence, somewhat against her will.When she was six years old she re-appeared upon the stage, this time asthe child in " The Celebrated Case."Miss Belle Douglass, an actress whoplayed a prominent role in the piece,studied the child's part so that shemight prompt her. In a scene in whichshe knelt beside the little girl she triedto prompt her in whispers, but to heramazement the child made the pre-cocious reply" I know my part and yours too. Mindyour own lines." To emphasize herdispleasure the wee one pinched hermentor's ears.That "little pitchers have big ears"was proven in connection with tinyMiss Adams' connection with the play.

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A BIOGRAPHYWhile the company was rehearsing sheoverheard her mother say to the stagemanager:"I am awfully anxious about Maudie'sperformance to-night. Mr. Leman is sofishy in his lines that I am afraid hewill confuse her."The actress whose performance was atthat moment in doubt turned from thewindow sill where she was teaching adilapidated rag doll to dance."Don't be afraid, mother. I knowMr. Leman's lines better than he knowsthem himself."The second act of the play, one oftragic intensity, centers upon the child.Mr. Leman as the Colonel propoundedlawyer-like questions to the little one,and upon her answers depended thelife or death of her father. There wasa pause before the category began. Thehouse was tense with suspense and ex-pectancy. Not a word came. The

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MAUDE ADAMSchild, looking into the wings, saw MissBelle Douglass looking aghast." O, Auntie Belle," cried the child com-miseratingly, "poor Mr. Leman doesn'tknow a single line of his part."A statement which her shrill inter-polation made almost true. For it wasdifficult for the fine old actor, WalterLeman, to get himself together afterthat, and most of his lines came stagger-ingly in quivering voice, while he bentunkind glances upon the child. Thechild's replies were always correct, butmaddeningly interlarded with observa-tions to "Auntie Belle": " I told youso." " There he goes again."Featured and billed now as " LittleMaudie Adams" the small actress nextappeared with J. B. Murphy in " Outto Nurse." Again maternal solicitudewas excited lest the child forget herlines. Mrs. Adams haunted the wingsand prompted her daughter in whispers,

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W"'

Sarony PRIVATE PORTRAIT TAKEN ABOUT 1890


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A BIOGRAPHYto which the little one made irritatedreply:" Mamma, I do know my part. I wishyou would please go away and let mealone." To punish her Mrs. Adamswent upstairs to her dressing room,where five minutes later a member ofthe company joined her."I am so afraid Maudie will go up inher lines," fretted Mrs. Adams."What's that awful noise about ?"Go up in her lines?" returned theother. " That noise is the audienceapplauding your daughter."Thereafter Mrs. Adams never fearedthat her daughter would not be letterperfect. Before she was seven yearsold the star began to manifest a strongtendency toward realism. In a sceneof "Out to Nurse," she was sent outof the room to bring a pitcher of beer.At first the property man handed her apitcher filled with water. After a few

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Maude adamsperformances of the part she went tothe star and said: "Mr. Murphy, Ibring in the pitcher and set it beforeyou and say, * Here's the beer,' when itisn't beer, only water. I think it oughtto be beer. I don't want to carry inwater and say its beer when it isn't.""Maybe ye're right, young one. Ithink we'll make it beer, anyway."And always after that the property manhanded the child a pitcher of odorous,foaming stuff instead of limpid, clear,colorless liquid, and the actors, knowinghow the reform had been wrought,always toasted the child slyly as theydrank. Again the tendency to natural-ism manifested itself when she played aboy's part in "The Streets of NewYork." She watched with deep interesther mother's fashioning of a pair oftrousers for her to wear at her debut."Make a rip here. Mamma," she said,drawing her finger along a side seam,

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A BIOGRAPHY"and let the red flannel poke out.That's the way I've seen little boys*trousers look."A few years later the trousers of whichshe had once been so proud becameodious to her. In "Little Jack Shep-pard " she was cast for one of the LittleBoy Blues. Beholding the tight blueknickerbockers in which she was toappear, she burst into tears.0, Mr. Osborne," she sobbed, "Ireally can't wear those things.""All right, dear," said George Osborne,patting her head. "You needn't wearthem. We'll give you a skirt." Asthat anomaly, a Boy Blue in a shortskirt, she appeared, and was happy.Very early in her youthful career weeMiss Adams comprehended dimly thevalue of the prefix "Miss" to a the-atrical name. Overhearing a memberof the company say that someone hadmistaken the little girl for Mrs. Adams*

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MAUDE ADAMSsister, the child whispered to her mother," Mamma, don't you think that I hadbetter call you Annie?"Her dramatic sense developed early.When she was seven years old and play-ing in "The Octoroon" she played thepart of a pickaninny."Move about the stage quickly whileyou talk," said the stage manager."It would be better for me to be doingsomething," she said. "I'll use mynew jumping rope."Thus it was by her own suggestion thatthe smallest of the pickaninnies intro-duced the "new business" of ropejump-ing, "business" that "went well " withthe audience.The strange reversion of realities thattake place when a company is cast for aplay was exemplified in *' HarbourLights," when Mrs. Annie Adams andMiss Ethel Brandon were cast for young,frivolous girls, and their daughters,

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BIOGRAPHYMaude Adams and Polly Brandon, eachaged about eleven, played the parts ofold crones. The little creatures weremade up to look withered and toothlessand bent nearly double under the weightof their assumed years.From the time she played the child'spart in "Fritz" at four years of ageMaudie Adams was never satisfied un-less she was traveling and playing withher mother. Again and again Mrs.Adams sent her daughter back to theold home and to her grandmother inSalt Lake City, but there came fromschool and from home the report:" Maudie is good and learns fast, butshe frets so much for you and the lifeof the stage that we are afraid she maybe ill."Again and again, especially after thedeath of Mr. Kiskadden, Mrs. Adamsreluctantly consented to her littledaughter's "taking one more engage-

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MAUDE ADAMSment, but this must really be the lastbefore she is graduated."One of these reluctant consents wasgiven to her appearance in "Chums,"which James A. Heme played andDavid Belasco directed in the BaldwinTheatre in San Francisco. Mr. Belascotook the small, spindle-legged, pigtailedchild with the serious eyes and themagnetic smile on his knees and taughther the part of Chrystal, a part that hesays she amazingly vitalized.Sometimes during the little girl's en-forced banishment from the boards hermother came home for a vacation.These were seasons of delirious delightfor the child. She clung to her motherincessantly, as though did she oncerelinquish the grasp of her thin, strongarms, her plump, pretty little motherwould be whisked away from her on thewings of the genius of Thespis land.Cuddled in her mother's arms, supreme-

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A BIOGRAPHYly happy, the child made her replies tothe catechism of maternal love."Whom do you love?" asked hermother."Oo, oo.""Whom do you love best in theworld?""Oo, oo."Seeing her grandmother sitting apartfrom the group, and fearing to woundher, she said in a loud voice, sure toreach the elder ears, "and dramma."One remarkable predilection of theMaude Adams not yet emerged fromthe chrysalis of Maudie was her tastefor licorice root. Of too dainty habitto eat the smeary black confection in itsfinished form, she preferred the rootitself, which she could chew with com-parative neatness, extracting the flavorwhile escaping the penalty of soiled lipsand handkerchief. On her way toschool she passed a wholesale drug

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MAUDE ADAMShouse where the roots could be secured.Every morning she called at the drugstore and asked for and received twopieces of licorice root from the hands ofthe head of the firm. For years thiscustom was invariable. Entered MaudieAdams with school books under herarm and an expectant smile on lips andin eyes. Arose the bulky form of thehead of the house, who produced theallotted two pieces of licorice root andbestowed them, with a bow, upon Mrs.Annie Adams' daughter. SmiledMaudie Adams and departed. Whenafter a long absence the little girl, nowMaude Adams, the most popular ofAmerican stars, revisited her old home,the wholesale druggist sent her twopieces of licorice root with his card andcompliments. From New York shesent him a silver souvenir, reproducingthe licorice roots, and tied with a pinkribbon. "Thank you. Maude

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BIOGRAPHYAdams," was written on the accom-panying card.Tenderly Maude Adams recalls all theincidents of life in the quaint town inwhich she was born. A resident ofthat city, who knew her but slightly,had asked a favor and received it fromher."I shall never forget your kindness,"said the recipient of the favor."It was not kindness. It was SaltLakeness," returned Miss Adams.For two years, between the ages oftwelve and fourteen, Maudie Adamsfound her mother inexorable. She mustremain in school for two years at least,and finding her protests unavailing, thegirl adapted herself so well to the en-vironment of the Collegiate Institute,the Presbyterian school in Salt LakeCity, that she became the favorite and,it was generally admitted, the brightestpupil in the school. In elocution she

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MAUDE ADAMSalways received the hundred-mark ofperfection, and pupils of that school andtime, now grown and married, and inmany instances parents, recall that ondeclamation day one girl with brighteyes and a sweet smile always accom-panied her recitations by gestures andswift changes of facial expression thatcarried conviction of the sentiment,whatever it might be that she chose toimpress. They recall one recitation i^which she impersonated a spinster read-ing her old love letters that was a tri-umph of mimicry, a superb minglingof the humor and pathos so curiouslyblended in the situation.When the girl was nearly fourteen Mrs.Adams returned to Salt Lake City tovisit her daughter. She was astonishedat the flower-like growth of the girl."Why Maudie," she cried almost re-proachfully, "we cannot realize yourambition !

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Sarony AS SUZANNE IN "THE MASKED BALL"(Palmer's Theatre, 1892)


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A BIOGRAPHY"What ambition, dear mother?""You always said *when I am tallenough to rest my head upon yourshoulder we are going to play "TheTwo Orphans," you Adrienne and ILouise.* Now you are as tall as I am.""Quite tall enough and old enough toleave school," pleaded her daughter.And the mother, reflecting upon thechild's quick growth and her unconquer-able love for the stage, listened yield-ingly to her arguments."I shall not need any more educationunless I become a teacher or a literarywoman," urged the daughter, "and Idon't want to be either." The citadelof the opposition to her leaving schoollife being won, little Miss Adams carednothing for the outposts. One of thesewas the principal of the school, a womanof saint-like character, who was exceed-ingly fond of her young pupil." Don't take Maudie from school," she

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MAUDE ADAMSbesought the mother. " Leave her withus for a few years and we will make hera teacher of elocution in the school.She will earn a salary of two thousanddollars a year." Outwardly makingcourteous reply, Mrs. Adams smiled in-wardly. "If Maude amounts to any-thing on the stage she will earn morethan that. If not I may send her back."Soon afterward Maude Adams left SaltLake City with her mother. Seeing herlook wistfully out ofthe car window at themountain-encircled city receding in thedistance the mother asked the daughterwhether she was already homesick." I love Salt Lake City, but I love youand the life of work before me stillbetter."It was a life of hard work to which hermother guided her. It led within ayear to New York, that Mecca ofthe am-bitious American actor, that land whichwhen conquered is all smiles and sun-

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A BIOGRAPHYshine and surpassing fairness, but thatuntil won is a wilderness of hard pathsand stern faces and Arctic cold.There followed all the thorns in thepath of the strange seeker after successin Thespis land in New York. Therewere the frequent and not too warmlywelcome calls upon managers and agents.There were lodgings in an unfashion-able and not too comfortable regiondown town near Union Square wherecar fare from their humble rooms tooffices of mighty managers and difficultagents might be saved. There werediscouragement and tears. But it wasagreed by the brave two that they werenever to yield to "blues" at the sametime. When the mother was despond-ent the daughter must be cheerful.When the daughter was overwhelmedin the sea of difficulties the mothermust draw her out to the rock of safetyand confidence.

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MAUDE ADAMSAnd there was confidence of the pair inthemselves and in each other. Mrs.Adams had had a general experienceof many years. The child had long agoworn off the awkwardness of unaccus-tomedness upon the stage. She hadstudied music and could sing. Sheread well. She could dance. In theflush of her first success, before herpresent manager had interdicted inter-views, the girl chatted freely to thepress. In one of those early and nowforbidden and forgotten interviews shetells how she learned dancing."When I left school a little before Iwas fourteen I went into the ballet.""Into the ballet?""Yes. I was there six months and inthat time I learned a great deal to fitme for my present position. It is agreat school for the actress."Sufficient preparation is more than halfthe battle. The rest is steadiness of

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Byron AS DORA IN "CHRISTOPHER JR.(Empire Theatre, 1895)


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A BIOGRAPHYpurpose mingled with the power to wait.Miss Adams, reinforced by her mother,had both of these, and seeing the needofthem, cultivated them yet more. Theultimate result was an engagement forboth in Duncan Harrison's "ThePaymaster." Maudie Adams, at lastevolved to the dignity of Miss MaudeAdams on the bill, played a leadingjuvenile role. She caused a great sensa-tion by plunging into a tank of waterand being rescued by the hero.She developed from this sensational"business" a cold that alarmed hervigilant mother. Mrs. Adams beggedMr. Harrison to excuse her daughterfrom the scene. Mr. Harrison de-murred. It was one of the biggestscenes in his piece. He could not sac-rifice it even for friends so esteemed asMiss Adams and her mother. Mrs.Adams devised an expedient. Socleverly was it devised and executed

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MAUDE ADAMSthat no one except the manager, theprotesting daughter and herself knew itno one, that is, except a small, darkman with sphinx-like features, who satin front one night and watched the playwith all the discriminating vision of onewho had produced it. When the figurejumped into the tank and, dripping, wasdragged from it by the panting hero ofthe play, although the figure flittedout immediately to the wings, the sphinx-featured watcher smiled. Later when hefelicitated mother and daughter upontheir debut upon a New York stage heexposed the expedient. The daughter'scountenance was rueful."1 didn't want her to," she said halfin tears." Yes, it was I who jumped into thetank," said the mother. " Do you sup-pose I would let Maudie take her deathof cold in that freezing water?'* sheadded to David Belasco.

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A BIOGRAPHYThere sat in the audience the samenight, although quite unconscious ofthe device, another great manager.He perceived the natural note and ex-uberant youth in the juvenile leadingwoman. "I've seen her before," hesaid to himself, exploring the hazy re-cesses of crowded memory. "Yes, shewas playing a child's part at the New-market Theatre in Portland, Oregon,when I was traveling with a Wallackplay. She was a child then. * LittleMaudle Adams' she was billed. Yes, Iremember." He recalled a later pictureof her in his mental album. She hadcalled at his office with her mother.**Yes. I had nothing for her. I re-member them now."" I have often thought of the time Itook Maudie to Mr. Frohman to askfor an engagement," said Mrs. Adamsof those early New York days antedat-ing the success of "The Paymaster."

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MAUDE ADAMS"Ah, those were disappointing days,days of impatient waiting, days of doubtand anxiety, days of hard work andmuch suffering! Mr. Frohman hadnothing for us to do, although he askedus to call again. However, after *ThePaymaster' and another visit or two,Mr. Frohman did find an opening forher. Indeed, he sent for us."While playing the part of MoynaSullivan in "The Paymaster," MaudeAdams' bent toward naturalism receivedno melodramatic warp. Rather thanuse the artificial flowers in the play, shepaid out of her then meagre purse forthe florist's best roses to use in thescene. It was the sacrifice of her per-sonal comfort upon the altar of herambitions. For there were no carriagesto the theatre in those days of a be-ginning career. There was not eventhe democratic aid of the street car.Trudging across Union Square in a

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Byron, N. Y.AS LADY BABBIE IN "THE LITTLE MINISTER"(Empire Theatre, 1897)


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A BIOGRAPHYstorm one night Maude Adams' motherstopped and, placing her hands on thegirl's slight shoulders, said: "Maude,do go home. You have coughed fourtimes while we walked a block and ahalf.""No, mamma, no. I am quite well."" Then let us take a car. This is dread-ful."The star of the future drew herself upand looked at her mother with steadyeyes.""Please don't talk of such a thing,mother. I am merely accustoming my-self to the vicissitudes of an actor'slife."When "The Paymaster" closed Its runat the Star Theatre and set forth uponits journey in that vague land of dis-comfort called "the Road," Miss Adamsand her mother remained behind.Virginia Harned (Mrs. E. H. Sothern)had interested her husband in the young

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MAUDE ADAMSgirl who had been her friend. Of thisperiod in her career Miss Adams saidin one of those now ignored interviews:"The stage was not beckoning me inthose days. Too young for matureparts, too old for child parts, I was astrange, unattractive, unclassified crea-ture. Mrs. Sothern, who had playedchild parts with me, interested her hus-band in me after awhile. He invitedme to dine with them at a restaurantonce and I am sure that I disgusted himby my bashfulness and awkwardness.I never spoke a word through thewhole dinner, I was so painfully diffi-dent. But his wife's influence prevailedand he afterwards helped me."She joined the Sothern company, play-ing Louisa in " The Highest Bidder,"and Jessie Dean in " Lord Chumley."Opportunity for the display of her win-some personality did not come, how-ever, until Charles Hoyt engaged her

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BIOGRAPHYto create the role of Dot Bradbury, theyoung school teacher in "The Mid-night Bell."That production was the line ofde-markation between the known and theunknown for Maude Adams. To herin "The Paymaster," and in the smallparts in the Sothern companies, the met-ropolitan memory harks not back. Onlya few experts in the watch-tower, sweep-ing their glasses upon the future of thedrama, had fixed their glasses and theirmemories upon her. But from herdebut in "The Midnight Bell" thelay mind embraced her henceforth inthe arms of memory. The critics ofthat time made little mention of her,some of them none at all, but the pub-lic, which is perhaps the most discern-ing of the critics, began to say, "There'sa charming little girl in Hoyt's newplay. I think her name is Adams, orsomething like that. She's so different."

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MAUDE ADAMSCharles Hoyt, the manager, had hisfinger ever upon the pulse of the pub-lic. He discovered that its beats speltpopularity for his obscure little "find."When "The Midnight Bell" termi-nated its run in New York he offeredher a five years* contract to play juvenilecomedy at practically her own terms.It was the point of the road whereevery actor halts in more or less dismay.One way the road stretches, the signspelling " Money." Diverging from itsweeps the other road along which thesign post's finger points "Artistic oppor-tunity." Maude Adams was the imageof youthful irresolution. Her motherintervened. There had been an offerfrom Charles Frohman. The part wasa small one in the play by DavidBelasco and H. C. DeMille,"Men andWomen," with which Mr. Frohmanproposed to open his Twenty-thirdStreet Theatre. The salary was scarcely

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A BIOGRAPHYhalf that which Charles Hoyt extendedwith open hand."Stay in New York and join the Froh-man company," said her mother, andon October 23 d, 1890, she appeared asDora Prescott, at the opening of theStock company at Proctor's Twenty-third Street Theatre. The next yearshe played, in the same theatre, Nell, acripple, in "The Lost Paradise."Then it was that New York audiencescame to know that delicate, heart-touch-ing, indefinable thing known as thepathos of Maude Adams. It is morethan half natural, that pathos, beingwrit in curiously pensive features andsounded in a sweetly plaintive voicethat are Maude Adams' own.At the close of the long runs of theseplays in New York there was muchconcern along the Rialto when the newswent forth that John Drew had re-nounced his eighteen years fealty to

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MAUDE ADAMSAugustin Daly and had gone over tothe Frohman forces. Of equally agi-tating interest was the question, "Towhom will John Drew make stage lovenow?" Audiences that had seen himpouring forth the fervor of his heart inmany years of accumulated affection atthe feet of Ada Rehan could not fancyhis making stage love to any one else. Itwas a disturbing question and CharlesFrohman, to all queries, replied: "Ihave not yet decided." It was a demureyoung girl who answered the question agreat many miles from New York.She was posing for her old friend, thatvenerable photographer, Thors, of SanFrancisco. As he manipulated thegreen curtain and focused the camerahe chatted of matters theatrical."Who is to be John Drew's leadingwoman?" he inquired, without in theleast expecting that his small sitterwould know.

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Sarony AS LADY BABBIE IN "THE LITTLE MINISTER"(Empire Theatre, 1897)


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A BIOGRAPHY"Why, I am/'"You! Don't tell fibs. You! Theidea.""Yes. I'm not telling fibs," she in-sisted.Whereupon the photographer becameso angry that he crossed the room andgave her ears an admonitory pinch.Not until three months later, when hesaw headlines challenging the attentionof the hasty reader to Charles Froh-man's announcement that he had chosenMaude Adams for the leading supportfor his new star, John Drew, did theold photographer believe in the truthful-ness of the little girl who had sat for himevery year since the time when she andFlora Walsh stood together in all theglory of their seven years and thetrousers that belonged to their costumesin " The Wandering Boy," and a blind-ing light revealed to him that she had,all unnoticed by him, grown up, grown

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MAUDE ADAMSinto the ranks and dignity of leadingwoman for a foremost American star.The play which was chosen for Mr.Drew's stellar debut was "The MaskedBall." The play was an adaptationfrom the French by Clyde Fitch. Afashionable audience, made up of thefolk who had hitherto "gone to noplayhouse but Daly's," gathered to bidJohn Drew welcome under the newauspices. The audience was pleasedby the play, charmed with its oldfavorite, John Drew, but it was fasci-nated by the small, girlish creature atwhom it had looked critically throughits lorgnette when she made her diffi-dent entrance. She played the youngwife, Suzanne Blondet, and played afeigned tipsy scene. By way of admin-istering to her husband a needed lessonshe came reeling out upon the stagewith a stammering: "GoodmornPaul! Hello Paulie!" "Your hus-

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A BIOGRAPHYband is a nice man," she continued."A very nice man, but he can't dancevery well. I think he has too manyfeet." When her husband inquiredwhere she had been she said: "I don'tknow." Reeling and swaying shedropped into a chair and with a queerlittle grimace stammered: " I IthinkI'll have to sit down a minute."In clumsier hands this scene wouldhave been gross. The frail young girl,clad in an Empire gown of old pinkbrocade, and carrying a long-stemmedpink rose which she waved aimlessly toemphasize her vague remarks, made itbewitching. Twelve times the audiencecalled her before the curtain to expressits pleasure. The next morning thefrosty critics thawed and made nobleamends for their previous indifference."To make a tipsy scene interestingand at the same time inoffensive is thetest of acting. Not one actor out

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MAUDE ADAMSof a thousand can achieve it," said one.Of that tipsy scene Miss Adams said"It wasn't easy to do. You see Icouldn't get tipsy myself to form myconception of the part, for when youare really intoxicated you don't knowhow you feel and can't remember whatyou do at all afterwards; my menfriends tell me I might have studiedthe part from tipsy women, but therewas the great danger of overdoing itand shocking people. Then, too, I amnot really intoxicated in the piece. Iam only feigning it. I realized thatI must do it as a sober woman who istrying to make others think that she isintoxicated. I thought about it,dreamed about it, acted it out beforethe mirror for weeks, my only assistantbeing my imagination. I call the wholescene a flight of tipsy imagination."The scene isn't a bit like me. Myold friends are astonished at my actions.

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A BIOGRAPHYOne of the members of the Sotherncompany said: *Why, whatever hasgotten into you? You never used totouch a drop with us.' *Why,' I said,'I've gone to the demnition bow-wowsand am tipsy every night now.'That scene in "The Masked Ball"made Maude Adams what she has beenever since, a prime metropolitan favorite."The Masked Ball," having run itssuccessful course for eighteen months,Henry Guy Carleton's light comedy,"The Butterflies," was chosen for Mr.Drew's next vehicle. Miss Adams'part as Miriam, the daughter of apauperized follower after the gods ofSociety, was not a strong one, but inits circumscribed scope she revealed amarked and pleasing personality. Onewho saw her for the first time in "TheButterflies" said: "Her laughter wasdelicious. One stared at the stage tosee from which of the four women

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MAUDE ADAMSstanding on the stage it proceeded. Itwas different from the ordinary laughas a tattoo on a tin pan is from the voxhumana of a pipe organ. It welled upmusically from a light, girlish heart. Ittrilled as a bird trills. It rippled as abrook ripples. It caused the grimmestface in the house to relax into lines ofmerriment. And yet there was no hintof hoyden in it. It was the laugh of agentlewoman, keyed to the diapason ofrefined merriment."In the third of the series of Drew playsis the door of opportunity again swungwide open to Miss Adams. As JessieKeber, a toymaker's daughter, she iswooed by Lord Clivebrooke, in "TheBauble Shop." The play evolves fromthe starting point of the young noble-man's dishonorable intentions towardthe shopkeeper's daughter to the pureand honorable love he offers her at theclose of the play. Henry Arthur Jones

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Sarony AS THE GYTSY IN "THE LITTLE MINISTER"


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A BIOGRAPHYgave Miss Adams a chance for exquisitecharacter portrayal in the scene in whichshe describes to her father the beautifulhome which her lover has promised her."The Imprudent Young Couple," acomedy by Henry Guy Carleton, wasa failure, but it did not fail soon enoughto rob Miss Adams of her success asthe young wife, a part which disclosedequally her gifts of comedy and pathos."Christopher, Jr.," a comedy byMadeleine Lucette Riley, was soon sub-stituted for "The Imprudent YoungCouple." In this Miss Adams againetched delicately the gamut of a gentle-woman's emotions with the effect ofreaching both the brain and heart ofher audience.Fortune veered in the next Drewdramatic venture. The play was "TheSquire of Dames." A flippant andtotally heartless young society matronit was that Miss Adams portrayed.

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MAUDE ADAMSThe part was an unsympathetic oneand Maude Adams was sadly miscast.For the first time since those hard,early days, when she walked in the rainacross Union Square and said she choseto learn the vicissitudes of an actor'slife, she looked failure in the eyes.But fortune veered once more andturned upon her a smiling face when itgranted Louis N. Parker and MurrayCarson's "Rosemary" for the nextseason's play. "Rosemary" was anidyllic play of young love and, asDorothy Cruikshank, Maude Adamswas its heroine. In the minds of loversof good plays the opening scene lingersas a fadeless picture. Maude Adams,in a quaint bonnet and shawl, sits besidethe youthful and ill-tempered younglover with whom she had started toelope, looking very dispirited, for whichthere was, indeed, ample cause. Thecarriage had broken down. The rain

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A BIOGRAPHYwas descending in sheets. The youth-ful pair, who would have eloped, lookedas though they wished they were at theirrespective homes and in their respectiveindividual beds. Elopement had lostits savor at this contrast with the savageelements. The middle-aged Sir JasperThorndyke discovers their plight andoffers them the hospitality of his home.They accept and confide in him thewonderful story of their elopement.Shortly afterward the pursuing parentsof the would-be bride, also stormbound,seek his hospitality. The scenes thatensue provide much wholesome comedy.But the golden thread of sympathy inthe story is the undiscovered and un-spoken love of the eloping bride forher host and his noble renunciation ofit. Her portraiture of Dorothy Cruik-shank redoubled the firmness of MaudeAdams' hold upon the popular heart.The only adverse criticism of the play

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MAUDE ADAMSwas that of the epilogue in which SirJasper, John Drew, fifty years laterdiscovers a tiny sprig of rosemary thatthe little bride had given him "for re-membrance," and wonders how he cameinto possession of it. The hearts thathad warmed to little Mistress Cruik-shank were wounded by his forgetful-ness. They declared that this lack ofmemory of his misty romance was afalse note. Her surpassing success inthis role gave to Charles Frohman thegreater courage of his conviction thather talents and popularity made ofMaude Adams valuable star material.The time for the beginning of a stellarcareer had arrived and now for the play.Fortuitously it happened that J. M.Barrie, the author of "The Little Min-ister," was paying a visit to Americaand while in New York saw the play" Rosemary.""There," said he, when the final cur-

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A BIOGRAPHYtain had fallen upon Maude Adams, toan accompaniment of "bravos," "is thewoman to play my Lady Babbie.'*When he returned to England he hadsigned a contract to deliver a dramatiza-tion of "The Little Minister" the fol-lowing summer. On September 28th,1897, Miss Adams made her debut inthe play as a star at the Empire Theatrein New York. She burst into splendidstardom in a night. The play ran forthree years. At the close of her secondseason in it she played a supplementaryseason as Juliet.Less satisfying than her surpassingLady Babbie, her rendition of the char-acter of the passionate young Capuletwas exquisitely girlish. The patheticnote of hopeless love was firmly struckand held. The lack of stately declama-tion was deplored by the older criticswho had memory standards by whichto measure her performance. Of these

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MAUDE ADAMSmemory standards Maude Adams hadnone."If I have smashed the traditions itwas because I knew no traditions," shesaid, yet it was well known that MissAdams as Juliet had disappointed her-self."I have not done what I intended todo," she said to those who congratulatedher.When it became known that CharlesFrohman designed to place the heavymantle of L'Aiglon, the Rostanddrama which Bernhardt was playing withtremendous success in Paris, uponMaude Adams' slight shoulders, therewas a storm of friendly protest. Thestorm of dissuasion increased when itwas known that Mme. Bernhardt wouldcome to New York and play in a rivaltheatre in the same production thatwinter." It isn't fair to Miss Adams," exclalm-

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A BIOGRAPHYcd the protestants, "to pit a younggirl against a woman of twice her ageand four times her experience. Com-pared with the rush and roar of theBernhardt dramatic strength, MaudeAdams' performance will be as thepiping of a shepherd's reed in a storm."But Charles Frohman persisted. Hesaid that Miss Adams was physicallyadapted to the role of the weakling sonof Napoleon. He said that what shelacked in dramatic force would be morethan made up by the skill in depictingpathos, which is one of her rarest gifts.Miss Adams created the Eaglet forAmericans. Later Mme. Bernhardtarrived and played it magnificently.But Miss Adams' engagement in NewYork was the longer one.Subsequently she played for a season therole of Phoebe in "Quality Street,"another Barrie play of gossamer textureand furnishing a diaphanous part for

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MAUDE ADAMSthe star. But while the play was ofcharacter so flimsy the public remainedloyal to its Maude Adams.At the close of this season it was an-nounced that Miss Adams' impairedhealth forbade her returning to thestage. She would rest and recuperateabroad. Various and disturbing werethe rumors of the nature of her illness.Visions of tuberculosis were exagger-ated into rumors that set matinee girlsand even matinee matrons mourning.No better index of the character of themost popular of American actresses canbe shown than to describe the mannerin which she spent her vacation abroad.To those who read that she wouldspend the summer of 1901 in Europethere arose visions of banquetings andgay festal occasions in the capitals ofEurope. But the cables brought nosuch intelligence of Lady Babbie.Shortly after her arrival in Paris, when

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Byron, N. Y.MAUDE AIJAMS AND JOHN DREW IN "ROSEMARY"(Empire Theatre, 1896)


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A BIOGRAPHYthose who watched the newspapers fortidings of the manner of her vacationexpected chroniclings of gay dinnersand dashes in brilliant equipages in theBois de Boulogne, Maude Adams dis-appeared from the ken of newspapermen. She had left her lodgings anddriven away, no one knew where.When she reappeared it was in astrangely different spot from that inwhich one might expect to find an emi-nently successful actress. She had goneto a convent in the village of Tours, inFrance, and induced the black-robedsisters to take her as a summer boarder.When she came to them first, saying," I am tired and want to rest in absolutequiet. Will you let me live with youfor awhile.''" the good sisters knew shewas an American and fancied that shewas an heiress, weary of the exactingdemands of society. Charmed by themodesty of her manners and touched

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MAUDE ADAMSby the weariness disclosed by face andwalk and gestures, they gave her asmall, cell-like room, in a high tower ofthe convent building, whose singlenarrow window looked out upon thegray-green foliage of dense olive groves.In the room was a narrow white ironbed, a wooden washstand with a pew-ter jug and basin, a chair and an oratory.For the long summer months MissAdams lived the life of the nuns. Sherose at five and dressed in the fresh,gray dawn. At six she knelt with thesisters at the matin service in the littlechapel. The most delightful memoriesof that restful summer, she says, was ofthe beautiful music of those morningservices. To the refectory in the base-ment she went after the service forbreakfast with the nuns, a simple break-fast of fruit, fresh from the conventgardens, and a chop. Afterward shewent for a long walk, forming friend-

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A BIOGRAPHYships with the peasant children on theway. Odd keepsakes they gave her,bits of coral and seaweed that had beenbrought back by wandering relativesfrom excursions on the sea, feathersfrom the hats of the peasants, odd,worn sabots and scraps of their bright-colored, new frocks. All of these shebrought back with her. One of thelittle girls was her most faithful attend-ant. This was the daughter of Jacques,the wood cutter, a tiny girl with asmall face lit by big, wistful eyes thatsmiled seldom except when they lookedupon "the nice little American ladywho never tires of walking." LittleAngelique followed Miss Adams on allher long tramps between the conventand the village of Tours.Dinner was served at mid-day. This,too, was a simple meal ; chicken, a saladand one vegetable, usually carrots. Thenuns eschewed sweets as in the class of

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MAUDE ADAMSthe useless things of this world. Afterdinner she went to the small roomabove the olive groves and studiedFrench, covering pages of an Americanwriting pad with conjugations and de-clensions."The greatest trouble I have here isto know what to do with these pageswhen I have finished with them. Theyare useless to me and yet they repre-sent so much hard work that I don'tlike to throw them away. Fancy aplace so restful that such a trouble asthis is the only one in life. But that isall the trouble there is in the world whenyou live in La Maison de Retraite nearTours."Then came another walk and then alight supper, frequently of stewed fruitand French bread without butter.There was a vesper service, and the nunsand their guest retired to their roomsand five minutes later the lights were

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Sarony PRIVATK PORTRAIT TAKEN' ABOUT 1890


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A BIOGRAPHYout. Thus the day passed with butthe slight difference that when sheknew them better and had told themgently that she was an actress insteadof an heiress, the afternoons were de-voted less to French verbs than toconversation lessons from the nuns."After all," said Sister Mercia, thevenerable Sister Superior, "you werea woman before you were an actress, agood woman, and I am sure you are agood actress."While she lived at the convent a bulkypackage of paper arrived. It camefrom New York and bore many marksof its travels, the cover being tattered,and there being the impress of manyseals. It was the first and only intru-sion of the concerns of the unquiet,outer world. Miss Adams carried itto her room and broke the seal. Thenshe read it avidly. It was her partin " Quality Street," the new Barrie

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MAUDE ADAMSplay in which she would play PhoebeThrossel in October. She rehearsedit in the narrow room, or in the olivegroves beneath her window, or even ontramps about Tours to the wonderof the ever-attending Angelique. Onesister came upon her pirouetting onthe sward. She was rehearsing thescene in which she complained that shecouldn't make her feet stop dancing.Seeing the shadow of a black robeand the wonder in a pair of watchingblue eyes. Miss Adams laughed andconfessed. And, thereafter, she re-hearsed before the nuns instead ofbehind them. When she left theplace of peace, turning her back reluc-tantly upon its gray walls, silhouettedagainst a placid sky and the green back-ground of hills and trees, she carriedwith her a keepsake nearly unique.Sister Mercia had departed from a rigidrule. She had sat for her photograph,

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I

A BIOGRAPHYand Miss Adams keeps it always in theroom which she has finished to dupli-cate her retreat at Tours in her NewYork home, a reminder of a quieterworld than that bordered every nightby a ribbon of lights.It was after her season in the prettyfantasy "Quality Street" that the ru-mors of Miss Adam's ill health brokeout anew and that she confirmed themto a certain degree by deciding to notplay for another year at least. Whenthe rumors of the alarmists were siftedto a substratum of truth it was learnedthat Miss Adams had taxed her strengthtoo greatly by playing almost inces-santly for seventeen years. Her vaca-tions had been short and with theexception of the idyllic one at Tourshad been in great measure filled withonerous preparations for the next season.She was justly proud of the fact thatshe had never in her life missed a

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MAUDE ADAMSperformance, but the long strain hadaffected a frail constitution to the pointof exhaustion." Miss Adams i simply tired/* saidher physician. " She must rest for ayear at least."And Miss Adams obeyed. She restedat the doctor's will, and in obedience toher own moods, at her mountain homeat Oneteola Park, near Tannersville,N. Y., in the Catskills, at Sandy Garth,at her farm near Ronkonkoma, LongIsland, and at her town house. No. 22East 41st Street, New York. Andwhen resting in these accustomed spotsbegan to pall upon her, the kindlyautocrat of her physical well-beingordered her to go abroad, to travelwherever she wished, though slowly, butat all events to make her ultimate ob-jective point a trip up the Nile and atented sojourn on the Lybian Desert.His patient was docile. In company

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A BIOGRAPHYwith Miss Davis, the sister of RichardHarding Davis, she set out for Jeru-salem, stopping for a month's campingon the Lybian Desert. A native cookand a guide accompanied them. MissAdams slept in a tent and spent allday in a saddle. Five weeks of theimposed year of rest she spent at Jeru-salem.The year of exile from stageland ended,she returned to the heart of Thespis,refreshed, renewed, and eager for thework she loved. The year's rest hadbeen efficacious. Maude Adams had,in respect to health, been born again.She returned to the stage in "ThePretty Sister of Jose," which sufficedfor a successful season.The manner of the adoption of " PeterPan,'* her latest vehicle, now in itssecond year, was unusual. Her mana-ger, having found no modern play tohis liking for her, had planned a Shake-

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MAUDE ADAMSspearian year. They were to produce"As You Like It," the star to appearas Rosalind, and later, perhaps, otherlighter and more joyous of Shake-speare's heroines. As he was leavinghis star's presence, the manager drewfrom his overcoat the manuscript of" Peter Pan."" Here's a play for children, by yourbeloved Barrie," said Mr. Frohman." I do not think that I will produce it,but you may be interested in reading it."Miss Adams said : " I had not finishedthe first act before the quaint characterof * Peter Pan * had charmed me. Icould feel the presence of the Fairiesand the Indians and the Pirates andthe lost boys of Never-Never-NeverLand, and in their midst the dashing,winsome * Peter Pan.* When I hadreached the last line of the play I hadmade my decision. I would play thecharacter. When I saw Mr. Frohman

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Sarony MAUDE ADAMS AS JULIET(Empire Theatre, 1899)


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A BIOGRAPHYagain I said, 'You may shelve yourShakespearian plans for the present.I am going to play ' Peter Pan.*It was not until then that I recalleda remark which Mr. Barrie had madeto me the year before. " A characteris in my mind that has come to methrough you and I am going to makea play of it." When he learned thatwe were going to produce his play hewrote, " I want you to know that itwas you that inspired the writing of theplay." So it was a kind of mentaltelepathy between Mr. Barrie and" Peter Pan " and me all the while.

Secondary only to her interest inthe stage is that in her home. MissAdams, as has been said, has threehomes. That which shelters her whenshe is in New York is a narrow four-story brownstone English-basementhouse, a stone's throw east of BryantPark, and near Madison Avenue,

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MAUDE ADAMSHere she has gathered under one roofmost of the souvenirs of her travels.The bookroom is her favorite apart-ment. In this quiet spot which othersmight call the library, but which shegives the Anglo-Saxon title, is thepapyrus which she brought from hertour of the Holy Lands, the oldestplay manuscript in the world. Sixtybooks, chiefly in papyrus, she broughtfrom her journeyings in Egypt and onthe Desert of Sahara and keeps onlocked shelves in her bookroom. Rarebooks and first editions are MaudeAdams* only form of extravagance.Beyond the bookroom on the mainfloor is a conservatory, and beyondthis lies her nunlike bed chamber andbathroom. On the second floor are adining room and drawing room and onupper floors still other bedrooms forthe family and servants.The family consists of her mother and

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A BIOGRAPHYher aged grandmother, besides the star.It has been named by those who havevisited it "The House of Silence."A scholastic calm always reigns thereand so quiet are the servants, so exclu-sive of all noise the menage, that thehome might be mistaken for one in thedepths of the country instead of in thecentre of the swirl and roar of thelargest and noisiest city in America.Here, as at her farm. Miss Adams*frequent alterations and remodeling ofthe house indicate her fad for archi-tecture. She seeks quaint, Elizabethaneffects. Her farm house at Ronkon-koma has for the lower floor one vasthall like that in which the heroes ofScotland entertained their kingly visi-tors. This simple room has four fire-places, one in the middle of each wall.Here the family sit. and chat, and inone corner dine. The upper floor ofthe half-brick, half-stone structure is

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MAUDE ADAMSgiven over to large, airy, sunny bedchambers. On the farm Miss Adamskeeps her dogs. A half dozen hand-some ones tumble about the visitor inrollicking welcome. There is a hugeSt. Bernard, two greyhounds, a Frenchbull and a collie. The St. Bernard hasthe unique name, bestowed by the star,"Day's Eye." Near the house is anartificial lake where, in the summermonths. Miss Adams takes a morningswim. She keeps a half dozen horsesand rides and drives a great deal whileat home. Three years ago she setout a grove of walnut trees, declaringthat it was every landholder's duty tocontribute to the arboreal beauty of thelandscape, and that she planted thetrees with full knowledge that she wouldprobably not live to see the maturityof their full-grown splendor. She of-fered to donate a new station houseto the village of Ronkonkoma, but the

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A BIOGRAPHYrailroad regulations forbidding this be-neficence, she asked permission to layout some flower beds to add to itsattractiveness, and this pleasure wasgranted her. To the farm she alwaysgoes to spend Sunday when she isplaying in New York or Philadelphia.She has sometimes traveled from Bos-ton after a Saturday night performanceto enjoy a Sabbath rest at her favoriteretreat. A special train carries the staron her quest of rest. To a picturesquecottage in the Catskills she resorts fora few weeks of the exhilaration ofmountain air in the summer.While her popularity is pre-eminent,it being evident not only from hernever diminished power to drawcrowded houses in all cities of theUnited States, but from such tangibletokens as an automobile which shewon in a competitive vote for the mostpopular actress in New York, and by

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MAUDE ADAMSthe golden life-sized statue of her whichwas sent to the Paris Exposition asthat of the most popular of Americanactresses, and by yet another sign thatPresident Roosevelt went behind thescenes to compliment her on her act-^"^g> y^t her modesty and reserve areproverbial. She gives no thought tosocial life, her pronouncement beingthat one may not be at once a societybutterfly and a working grub. Vitalenergy, she believes, is a fixed quantityand she who makes an overdraft uponit for social purposes must of necessitydisappoint her audiences by listlessperformance. Firmly she refuses in-vitations to social functions, leading thehfe of her choice, that of a semi-reclusefor art's sake.Her charities are many but quiet. Tothe friends of her early life in the Westshe is loyal and kind, but for newfriendships she has little time, and per-

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Sarony AS PHOEBE IX "QUALITY STREET(Empire Theatre, 1901)


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A BIOGRAPHYmits herself small opportunity. Thestage, her family, her few old friends,her books, her musicfor she is a goodamateur musician, performing well uponthe piano, harp, and 'cello (the last isher favorite instrument)constitute thecircle of her interests. A secretary.Miss Louise Boynton, attends to hercorrespondence. She has never married,or rather she has been much marriedever since she can remember to herprofession. Admirers there have been,many of them, but they seldomprogressed beyond a merely initialacquaintance incident to business. Oneyoung literary man formed the, to him,pleasant habit of escorting Miss Adams,before she had graduated from theMaudie period of her existence, andher mother to and from the stage door.Miss Adams was polite but gently pre-occupied. Mrs. Adams was pityinglywatchful.

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MAUDE ADAMS" I may as well tell you," she said oncein kindly tone, " that you are onlywasting your time by these attentions.My daughter has no thought of youngmen and has no intention of marrying."Which may be said to summarize MissAdams' attitude toward marriage. Herthoughts of romance, her close friendssay, have always taken the direction ofeffective stage scenes." I learned the harp when I was a girl,and used to sit beside it and dream ofa stage scene which Mr. Belasco andMr. DeMille should write for me, ofa young man leaning over a girl andproposing to her while her fingers idlyswept the strings. But my teachercame in one day when I was dreamingthus and told me I was sitting at thewrong end of the harp and that itwould be impossible for anyone but agiant to lean gracefully over the rightend of an upright instrument. I

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A BIOGRAPHYcouldn't have a giant make love to meand I didn't want anyone to lean awk-wardly over the harp, so away wentthe scene.**Her art standards are the highest. Sheis never satisfied with any performanceof her own, yet to members of her com-pany she is most patient. Again andagain she will go over her own part ofa scene that the person who plays itwith her may perfect himself. Neverdoes she complain of weariness. In-variably she rehearses her own partafter the rehearsal is over. When therest, exhausted, have gone home, shetakes the stage alone and remains thereoften until midnight going over herprincipal scenes. At rehearsals shenearly always wears a long brown coat,ancient in cut, and worn as to seams andedges. That old brown coat she de-clares is her mascot.Soaring as she has into the cloudland

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MAUDE ADAMSof fantasy, and delving into the depthsof tragedy, it is known to her intimatesthat Maude Adams has had always butone stage ambition. It expresses itselfin brief phrase. She desires to reignin comedy. She would be the Rejaneof America.To-day Maude Adams is one of therichest women on the stage. Her firstseason as a star was so profitable as toyield her the snug sum of forty thou-sand dollars. Proportionally she hasbeen successful each succeeding season.And she has always invested judiciously.For example, she has caused to be setout on her farm, Sandy Garth, whichshe has gradually extended from aneighty-acre tract to one of two hundredacres, large groves of walnut trees, andit has been estimated that so valuablewill be these trees when they reachtheir maturity, in about thirty years,that were all Miss Adams* other hold-

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A BIOGRAPHYings swept away, and were she to leavethe stage, she could live palatially uponthe profits yielded by her exceedinglyprofitable walnut groves.

Recently Miss Adams acquired atheatre car, built at her order at a costof thirty thousand dollars, which is partof the train that carries the Peter Pancompany on its travels. It is a car ofthe ordinary size and appearance so faras the exterior is concerned, but it con-tains a stage upon which Miss Adamsand her company rehearse en route when-ever it seems to her advisable. Thusshe can rehearse when ever she likes,without waiting to reach the theatre atthe next "stand."We have on our stage actresses ofmore forceful individuality, and there areothers who have more beauty, whoseart is more mature and therefore morefinished. But it remains incontestablethat from the box-office standpoint

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MAUDE ADAMSMaude Adams is the biggest money-maker, and, inferentially, the mostpopular of all the women stars on theAmerican stage to-day. Certainly, noother actress has more of that indefin-able quality described vaguely as charm.The young actress has succeeded inobeying to the letter Charles Frohman'sadvice to the players : " Please thewomen, for without them the theatreswould have to close. If the womendo not like a play, it is doomed. Ifthey do not like a player, he or shemay as well take to another profession."Maude Adams has pleased the women.She is idolized by many, and the favoriteplayer of them all. Her popularitywith women and girls was shown earlyby the enormous sales of her portraits,for men seldom purchase theatricalphotographs.It is no secret for those who knowMiss Adams intimately that there are78


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Sarony AS PHOEBE IN "QUALITY STREET"(Empire Theatre, 1901)


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A BIOGRAPHYin her two distinct personalities. TheMaude Adams of the stage and theMaude Adams in private Hfe are twoentirely different beings, and very fewknow her in this latter role, for she avoidspeople and lives away from the world,preferring and seeking solitude. Onthe stage, a gossamer, spritelike quality,ephemeral, but radiant as the goldendust on the butterfly's wing, is herteasing, pre-eminent characteristic.Critics have described her as elfish,diaphanous, analysis-defying, mysteri-ous, almost weirdly winsome. Elusive-ness is, perhaps, her dominant note as anactress. Away from the footlights thewoman is a recluse. Asceticism is thekeynote of her life. If she had nottaken to the stage early in her careerand grown to look on it as secondnature, it is probable that she wouldhave taken the veil and passed herlife in a convent. Yet the asceticism

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MAUDE ADAMSof Maude Adams is without austerity,it is a wholesome merriment weddedwith stern simplicity, the lonely serenityof the scholar, a smile upon the brood-ing features of the monk, the sunlightplaying upon the coif of the nun.This voluntary withdrawal from thepublic gaze every second that she isnot literally on the stage is certainlysingular enough. Other players wearyat times of the human crowd, and seekseclusion for health's and study's sake,but to Maude Adams soHtude is aluxury which has become a necessityto her nature.There is a suggestion of this isolationin the set melancholy of her face whichis pensive and thoughtful in repose andhaunted as by some secret sorrow evenwhen radiant with her sweetest smile.Hers, too, is a highly nervous tempera-ment, always tuned to the snappingpoint and her frequent physical collapse80


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A BIOGRAPHYarises from this alone. She will get upin the morning fresh and gay as thelark and by noon her vitality is ex-hausted and lassitude and moodinesshave seized upon her. When theevening comes she seems herself again,full of merriment and enthusiasm forher work, but it is only an artificialreaction brought about by the exertionof her tremendous will-power, and theeffort gradually saps her strength untilat last nature rebels and she can go onno more before she has taken anotherlong rest.She told the writer with a touch ofanger how a party of New Yorkersdrove across her farm, Sandy Garth,Long Island, and how she hid behinda tree until they had driven on, dis-appointed because they had caught noglimpse of their beloved, elusive LadyBabbie."It is because the public loves you

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MAUDE ADAMSthat it wants to see and know more ofyou," we protested."If it really loved me it would leaveme alone," which reply, given in a toneof finality that closed the subject, isproof of her sincerity.Miss Adams tells of the sympathy ofa conductor on the Long Island Rail-road who asked her one day duringthe third year of the run of "TheLittle Minister " if she were not tiredof playing the same part so long." It is tiresome," the star admitted.The conductor leaned upon the backof the car seat in reflection for manyminutes. Then he burst out in suddeninspiration : " Miss Adams, why don'tyou try to get another job ! "These stories the actress tells with girl-ish glee. It is the merriment whichtinges her asceticism, the sunlight play-ing in the shadows of the cloister.The few visitors who have been ad-82


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Hyron, N. Y.AS THE DUKE OF REICHSTAUT IN "L'AIGLON'(Knickerbocker Theatre, 1901)


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A BIOGRAPHYmitted to the narrow four-story Englishbasement house which Miss Adamsowns at No. 12 East Forty-first streetdescribe it as an oasis of scholasticpeace amid the roar of the busy metrop-olis. Servants glide noiselessly about,speaking in the hushed tones of thoseaccustomed to the enforced quiet of asickroom, and as if watching jealouslyto guard a nervous and highly strungtemperament from the jar of city tur-moil. The furniture is scant andsimple, but every piece smacks ofromance, for the mistress of the houseis an ardent collector of antiques andpossesses some valuable specimens en-riched recently by a number of arttreasures picked up during her travelsin Egypt. The prevailing color isdark green, her favorite tint, and thiscolor and also the old woods noticedin the reception room, appear again inthe square central hall, where a French

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MAUDE ADAMSsedan chair forms the telephone booth.Beyond is the library, another smallsquare room, whose four sides are linedfrom floor to ceiling with rare oldbooks. Here are complete sets of allthe English classics, and English andFrench plays of every period. Here,too, are the English philosophers, andif Miss Adams were asked to nameher favorite author she would unhesi-tatingly answer: "Herbert Spencer."Opening from the library and extend-ing in a straight line like a steamergangway to the rear of the narrow courtis the actress* private suite.If the visitor expects to see here a visionof rosy light filtering through silk-and-lace draped windows, daintily uphol-stered furniture, and the gleam of halfa hundred silver toilet articles, a rudedisappointment awaits him. In theseprivate rooms of the actress, where onlythe most intimate friends may enter,84


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A BIOGRAPHYone comes face to face for the first timewith the soul of this remarkable woman.The suite is screened from the rest ofthe floor by a small fernery, filled withtall, green plants, and having passedthrough this, one enters a small roomof about ten by twelve feet. Surelynot Miss Adams' room, this? Hermaid's? Not at all. This is MaudeAdams' bedroom, and it is an exactreplica of the little cell she occupied inthe convent at Toursthe bare, whitewalls, the narrow iron bedstead, patheticin its simplicity, the brown, home-woven rug, the tiny, severe white bath-room beyond, the solitude and intensequiet, all this Maude Adams has dupli-cated in the house of which she ismistress and which is hardly half ablock from fashionable, merry, matter-of-fact Fifth avenueNo noise from the street ever reachesthis retreat. No intrusive sound from

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MAUDE ADAMSa neighboring menage penetrates thehigh walls of the court. Here MaudeAdams finds the silence and the peaceshe loves. Here she can indulge tothe full her fondness for introspection.Some one once said in her presence," Self-study is unhealthflil."" Oh, no ! " was the quick reply. " Itis one of the best means of develop-ment.""Genius," she said, "is the talent forseeing things straight." She repeatedthis earnestly, pointing a slim, levelfinger for emphasis. "It is seeingthings in a straight line without anybend or break or aberration of sight,seeing them as they are, without anywarping of vision. Flawless mentalsight ! That is genius ! "There is one element missing from thecell-like bedroom in her New Yorkhouse, which is ever present in itsprototype at Tours. That is the re-86


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Sarony AS THE DUKE OF REICHSTADT IN "L'AIGLON'(Knickerbocker Theatre, 1901)


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A BIOGRAPHYligious element. In Maude Adams'room there are no rosaries, no images,no crosses, no colored prints of theCrucifixion or of the Mater Dolorosa.The actress is not a devotee. Shebelongs to no sect, has adopted nocreed. Hers is the practical religion ofaltruism.Her charities are many, but unobtru-sive. A faded gentlewoman, one ofthe inefficients in the battle of life,came to the writer one day with a long,sad story of defeat. She must leavethe small, bare room where she andher son were living unless help camequickly. Friends had helped her, butfriends grow weary of helping. Therewas one who never wearied. If MaudeAdams were only here, but she was inEurope." She returned this morning."The woman's face brightened, thenclouded again.

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MAUDE ADAMS" She has helped me so often. I dreadasking her again. If you would tellher that I am in distress."That afternoon, a note reached MissAdams as she was leaving for Ronkon-koma, her Long Island home. Sheplaced it with a bill in the hands of hermaid, and an hour later the little bareroom had bloomed into a spot of sun-shine.Other instances of her goodness ofheart are many. A lonely little girlwho had come to New York to seekher fortune had a hall bedroom on thefourth floor of a house in which MissAdams lived. The actress had neverseen the little girl, but in some way thefact of her existence came to her onthe child's birthday. Miss Adams tooktwo handsomely bound books from apackage just arrived, wrote on the fly-leaf of each : " To a ladye on her birth-day, Maude Adams," and carried them88


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A BIOGRAPHYupstairs to the hallroom. A careworn,anxious young face appeared at a crackof the door." My name is Adams," said the actress." I have rooms on the second floor.Someone said this was your birthday.Will you accept this little present?"This with a sunny Lady Babbiesmile.The girl took the books and read theinscription with a grateful little sob.Thereafter the name of Maude Adamsled all the rest in her calendar ofsaints.Many unfortunate actresses have knownher bounty, delicately given.Not a few have found in her home asailor's snug harbor until they werestrong enough again to brave the storm.One of these while seeking an engage-ment found a home in Miss Adams'town house for three months. Anotherto whom life had assumed a tragic form

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MAUDE ADAMSwas sent to her farm, where she re-mained for a year.Charitable as she is to her unfortunatesisters of the profession. Miss Adamsseldom asks managers for engagementsfor them, never unless she has seenthem play. This is because her stan-dard of art is high and because sheknows the cares that beset the busymanager. Her home, her purse, herwomanly sympathy, are easily drawnupon, but her recommendation of aplayer as a player is almost as rare asher newspaper interviews, and she nevergives an interview.A veteran magazine writer claims thedistinction of being the first of theinterviewers whose attentions MissAdams firmly declined. He relateshis experience as follows :"It was several years ago, a day or twoafter Miss Adams made her first hit in* The Masked Ball.' I met her at the

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f^M


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A BIOGRAPHYstage door and asked her for an appoint-ment. She hesitatingly gave me heraddress, and asked me to call the nextmorning. I called early and found herwaiting for me, ready dressed and look-ing like a schoolgirl. She greeted memerrily, but said at once: * I'vechanged my mind about the interview.I shall never give interviews.*" * Why ? * I had just breath enoughto gasp." * Duse is never interviewed. Whyshould I be ? ' said the baby." I thought she was an impertinentchild," added the elderly interviewer," but at least she has been consistent. "On her trips abroad she has usuallytraveled incognito. Her name seldomappears on the sailing list. She goes tothe ship early and so escapes the news-paper men. When she arrived recent-ly, one hardy man of the pencil andnotebook penetrated her ship disguise

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MAUDE ADAMSof " Miss Allen. " He lifted his hatand smiling with Sherlock Holmes sat-isfaction, said:" What sort of a passage did youhave, Miss Adams?""Miss Allen" started and lookedreprovingly at the bold man. Shestopped, with one foot on the carriagestep, and shook her finger at him." Run away, bad boy, " she saidgravely, and the carriage rolled outupon West street.Intelligent and intellectual as MaudeAdams is, she is not without the super-stitions common to stage folk. Thewriter has seen her step quickly backto the landing so that she might notmake one of an ill-fated trio on thestairs. She has mascots without num-ber, one of them a curious blue, heart-shaped stone which she wears abouther neck, and she is afraid of beggars.An old woman one day asked her for a92


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Otto Sarony Co. AS PETER PAN(Empire Theatre, 1905)


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A BIOGRAPHYcoin. The actress remembered thatthere were only bills in her purse, sowalked on without replying." She cursed me horribly, and I havenever since given anything to beggars.I am afraid of them," she said. Themoney she denies to beggars she spendsin less open but grateful charities.Her mild asceticism, untinged with aus-terity, is shown in the simplicity of herdress. She cares little for modes orfashion. For society she cares not atall. Her friends

[1907] Ada Patterson - Maude Adams; A Biography

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