Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1877-08-03

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liant genius.
She once remarked to friend, who was
cognizant of the circumstances
"Wben see him now, rich and respect
ed but not great and think what good
husband he has made, l sigh for what I've
lost and rejoice for what I've gained. New
ertheless, fame and fortune only can COM
pensate q woman for the lifelong absence
of husbands affection, children's love,
the peace and happiness of private life.
When returned from New Orleans with
my voice gone and in despair, If he had
come forward then and offered me home
l would gladly have accepted and would
have lived my life untroubled by ambi-
tious dreams, unsuspecting of the divine
afllatus within me. have had a thousand
times over in my hand more than the mon.
ey which would have secured mo happiness
when girl, and always think for what a
paltry sum my whole domestic happiness
was sacrificed"
After Miss Cushman had achieved fame
in England she made a tour of this country.
She was then woman of middle age, with
a remarkably ugly face, but tall and well
|
ment at the National Theatre, Cincinnati.
Conrad b Clarke was the leading man,
many years her junior. He had been
brought up as a gentleman, being the son
of a Quaker in Philadelphia. lie soon
evinced liking for the stage, and nothing
could keep him from 1t. As far as theatri-
cal talent went he had not mistaken his vo.
cation. Miss Cushman was struck with his
polish and wit, his talent and cultured tone.
From conversation on acting in the theatre,
Clarke soon began to call at her hotel TO re-
ceive particular instructions in the part he
was TO play with her then, he escorted her
home from the theatre at night, aud it was
plainly TO be seen thai she looked with
marked favor on the young actor. One eve
ming she was at the wing, ready to go on as
"Meg Merrles," | playing the boy in
"Guy Mannering." l was standing by her
side, and Mr.. Clarke was q few steps of
flirting desperately with a lovely young
actress who had been chrisencd "The Poo
die Dog" from the way she dressed her
hair, which was just as they wear it nowa-
days, but then thought wild, brazy style.
The star had been giving me few stage
directions, and impclled by some impulse,
I inquired:
"What of all things in this world, Miss
Cushman, would you rather be?'
She replied. as, impulsively elancing at
Clarke and signing:
81 would rather be pretty woman than
anything else in this wide, wide, wide
world" and on the Stage she rushed TO
shrek through Meg Merries. Amer this
he assumed bolder front, flirted no more
about the scenes, and became obsequiously
attentive TO her. He Travelled with her a
short time TO support her; ii became a rec
| ognized fact that he was the great stars
protege, and next it ranspred that she had
engaged him 10 20 10 England with her.
This was happy period for them both.
| Frankness being one Of her chief character
| istcs, she made no secret OF her admiration
for his talents and liking for him personal
| ly, and of her intention TO forward his in
terests as far as lay within her power.
Whether she loved as she had loved anoth-
er in her girlhood days is difficult to de-
| termlne, but her manners became more
gentle and womanly, she was less imperi-
Gus with her underlingS, and gave a great
deal of time to teaching him his parts. His
feelings were easier probed; Conrad Clarke
| did not love Charlotte Cushman. His ma
turc was too selfish to permit him to feel so
pure and disinlerestod passion as love in
| its highest sense.
| Matters had stood thus Tor months. One
evening Miss Cush nan was going to the
theatre, alone, when weak, haggard look
ing woman approached her, with baby in
arms. She was a small, red haired, fragile
creature. Laying her hand on Miss Cush-
mans arm she said:
"Miss Cushman, l think woman of
your genius and position might have plen
| ty of admirers without taking up with the
husband Of a poor woman like me."
The lragediene paused in blank amaze
ment.
"Are you talking to me?" She asked
al am" d.
"And you say l have taken your hus-
band from your"
"Yes-you-Charotte Cushman."
81 don't know you and may l ask the
name of this precious husband of yours?"
"Conrad Clarke" was the reply.
| Tue great actress hurried away. she nad
received a blow, but she met 1t with as
grave front az she had many others in her
not altogether smooth path in life.
All smiles and Rows and honeyed words,
Clarke greeted her that night. She gave a
death blow to all his hopes, not tenderly as
many woman so situated might have
done, but with characteristic decision.
On learning from his wife what she had
done he became furious at what he declared
to be malicious scheme TO ruin him, and
leaving her he swore never to live with her
again. Annie Clarke easily obtained a di-
vorce from him, and shortly after married
an actor named Forest Of Cleveland.
BY strange concaIenation of circum-
stances, Clarke's child was adopted and
most tenderly reared by one of our bright
est wlIs-the only one of his peculiarly
causte kind left-a man who wields
powerful weapon in his pen, who has two
parties for and against him, one who hate
and fear him, the other who love and praise
him-Don Piatt.
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The imposing appearance on the map of