the car was a handsomer car than their own, and in the quietest taste. polly had somewhat softened the truth in the matter of its tender. roger had protested mightily
against offering the car to the winfields, but sheila and polly had taken it away from him.
he had resisted their scheme for the dinner with even greater vigor, but polly mocked him and gave her orders. seeing himself committed to the plot, he said, “well,
if we’ve got to have this try-out performance we’ll make a production of it with complete change of costumes, calciums, and extra people.”
polly and roger did not approve of bret any more than the winfields approved of sheila; but they resolved to jolt the philistines while they were at it.
after a day in the kemble limousine the winfields picked up sheila, who had been spending an hour on her toilet, though she apologized for the wreckage of rehearsals.
she dazzled both of them with her beauty. she did most of the talking, but permitted restful silences for meditation. the winfields were as shy and as staring as
children. it was the first time they had been so close to an actress.
the kemble cottage on long island was a pleasant enough structure at any time, but at night under a flattering moon it looked twice its importance.
the dinner was elaborate and the guests impressive. roger apologized for the presence of a famous millionaire, tilton, his wife, and their visitor lady braithwaite. he
said that they had been invited before, though it would have been more accurate to say that they had been implored at the last moment, and had consented because roger
said he needed them.
sheila never acted harder. she never suffered worse from stage-fright and never concealed it more completely. she suffered both as author and as actor. her little
comedy was, like hamlet’s brief tragedy, produced for an ulterior purpose. which it accomplished.
the kembles had succeeded in shifting the burden of discomfort to their observers. the winfields felt hopelessly small town. polly and sheila were exquisitely
gracious, and lady braithwaite kept my-dearing polly, while the millionaire called kemble by his first name. roger set old winfield roaring over his stories and, as if
quite casually, he let fall occasional allusions to the prosperity of prosperous stage people. he referred to the fact that a certain actress, “poor nina fielding,”
had “had a bad season, and cleared only sixty thousand dollars.”
tilton exclaimed, “impossible! that’s equivalent to six per cent, on a million dollars.”
roger shrugged his shoulders. “well, there are others that make more, and if nina is worth a million, sheila is worth two of her. and she’ll prove it, too. and why
shouldn’t actors get rich? they do the world as much good as your manufacturers of shoes and electricity and automobiles. why shouldn’t they make as much money?”
tilton said: “well, perhaps they should, but they haven’t done so till recently. it’s a big change from the time when you actors were rated as beggars and
vagabonds; you’ll admit that much, won’t you?”
he had touched kemble on a sensitive spot, a subject that he had fumed over and studied. roger was always ready to deliver a lecture on the topic. he blustered now:
“that old idiocy! do you believe it, too? don’t you know that the law that branded actors as vagrants referred only to actors without a license and not enrolled in
an authorized company? at that very time the chief noblemen had their own troupes and the actors were entertained royally in castles and palaces.
“for a time the monks and nuns used to give plays, and there was a female playwright who was a nun in the tenth century. the church sometimes fought against the
theater during the dark ages, but so it fought against sculpture and painting the human form. actors were forbidden christian burial once and were treated as outlaws,
but so were the catholics in protestant countries and protestants in catholic regions, and presbyterians and episcopalians in each other’s realms, and quakers in
boston.
“the puritans did not believe in the theater any more than the theater believed in the puritans, and there was a period in england when plays had to be given secretly
in private houses. but what does that prove? religious services had to be given the same way; and political meetings.
“there are plenty of people who hate the theater to-day. it always will have enemies—like the other sciences and arts.
“but one thing is sure. wherever actors have been permitted at all, they have always gone with the best people. several english actors have been knighted recently,
but that’s nothing new. the actor roscius was knighted at rome in 50 b.c. in greece they carved the successful actors’ names in stone.
“we made big money then, too. the actor ?sopus—cicero’s friend—left his good-for-nothing son so much money that the cub dissolved a pearl in vinegar and drank it.
he tossed off what would amount, in our money, to a forty-thousand-dollar cocktail.
“in the roman empire actors like paris stood so high at court that juvenal said, ‘if you want to get the royal favor ask an actor, not a lord.’ when josephus went
to rome to plead for the lives of some priests, a jewish actor named aliturus introduced him to nero and his empress and got him his petition. it seems funny to think
of a jewish actor at the court of nero. the roman emperor justinian married an actress and put her on the throne beside him.
“in italy after the renaissance one of the actresses—i forget her name—was so much honored that when she came to a town she was received with a salute of cannon.
“louis xiv. loved molière, stood godfather to his child, and suggested a scene for one of his plays. one of napoleon’s few intimate friends was the actor talma.
“david garrick was in high favor at court and he sold his interest in drury lane, when he retired, for one hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars. he is buried in
westminster abbey.
“and if i may speak of my own ancestors, mrs. siddons was one of the most highly esteemed and irreproachable women of her time. sir joshua reynolds was proud to paint
her as the tragic muse and old dr. samuel johnson wrote his autograph on the canvas along the edge of her robe because he said he wanted his name to go down to
posterity on the hem of her garment.
“her brother, john philip kemble, was so successful that he bought a sixth share in covent garden for over one hundred thousand dollars. when it burned down it would
have ruined him if the duke of northumberland had not made him a loan of fifty thousand dollars. and later he refused repayment.
“take an actress of our own time, sarah bernhardt. what woman in human history has had more honor, or made more money? or take—”
polly felt it time to intervene. “for heaven’s sake, ring down! you’re not at chautauqua, you know.”
kemble started and blinked like a sleep-walker abruptly wakened. “i beg your pardon,” he said. “i was riding my hobby and he ran away.”
the winfields were plentifully impressed and mrs. winfield completely overwhelmed when lady braithwaite said:
“he’s quite right, my dear. there’s no question of the social position of the stage. so many actresses have married into our peerage that you can’t tell which is
the annex of which; and no end of young peers are going on the stage. they can’t act, but it keeps them out of mischief in a way. and i can’t see that stage-
marriages are any less permanent than the others. can you? i mean to say, i’ve known most charming cases. my poor friend the duchess of stonehenge had a son who was a
hopeless little cad and rotter—and he married an actress—you know the one i mean—from the halls she was, too. and you know she’s made a man of him—a family man,
too, she has, really! and she’s the most devoted of mothers. really she is!”
somehow the character lady braithwaite gave the stage made more impression on mrs. winfield than all of roger’s history.
on the long, late ride back to their hotel the old couple were meek, quite whipped-out. they had come to redeem an actress from perdition or bribe her not to drag
their son to her own level; they returned with their ears full of stage glories and a bewildered feeling that an alliance with the kemble family would be the making of
them.
as the train bore them homeward, however, their old prejudices resumed sway. they began to feel resentful. if sheila had been more lowly, suppliant, and helpless they
might have stooped to her. but a daughter-in-law who could earn over fifty thousand dollars a year was a dangerous thing about the house. sheila’s scenario had worked
just a little too well.
young winfield met his parents at the train and searched their faces eagerly. they looked guilty and almost pouting. they said nothing till they were in their own car
—it looked shabby after the kemble turnout. then bret pleaded:
“well, what do you think of sheila?”
“she’s very nice,” said his mother, stingily.
“is that all? she wrote me that you were wonderful. she said my father was one of the most distinguished-looking men she ever saw, and as for my mother, she was
simply beautiful, so fashionable and aristocratic—an angel, she called you, mother.”
one may see through these things, but they can’t be resisted. as roger kemble used to put it: “say what you will, a bouquet beats a brickbat for comfort no matter
what direction it comes from.”
the winfields blushed with pride and warmed over their comments on sheila. in fact, they went so far as to say that she would never give up the fame and fortune and
admiration that were waiting for her, just to marry a common manufacturer’s son.
this threw the fear of love into bret and made him more than ever frantic to see sheila and be reassured or put out of his misery. there was no restraining him. his
father protested that he was needed at home. but it was mating-season with the young man, and parents were only in his way, as their parents had been in theirs.
