The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1899-07-09
TALK WITH MRS. POTTER
AMERICAN ACTRESS HAS A MORT.
GAGE ON THE BRITISH HEART.
Remarkable Success I'm London Both
Artistically and SOcially-May
Try Again I'm America.
Alan Dale's London Letter in New York

me at D o CLOCK. should ike you 10 see my
| house and garden" An invitation to after
| noon tea from Mrs. James Brown Potter,
| who holds London's name in her hand at
| last. and whose pictures hang in New Bond
| street galleries as lone of the women of the
| day." 1t was a sweet and forgiving little
note that 1 got from her. In her heart Of
| hearts 1 knew that she must loathe me, for
| did L not attend her debut at the Fifth-ave-
| nue. Theater. and was / not accompanied by
| gentleman who slept blissfully through
the entire performance? However, bygones
| must be bygones, and when a woman
| reaches her goal and settles nestily and
cozily in ST. Johns Wood she can afford to
| be magmnimous STILL the idea of tea
frightened me. Afternoon tea is my bette
noir. / am always called upon to pass cups,
| and in a frenzied desire to be amiable 1 gen.
orally spill them. And when you spill cups
| of tea and make fool of yourself all that
you can possibly say is: Il am so sorry!'-
| which usually makes matters more ludicrous.
| Not a cabby could I find in the Strand
| clever enough to take me to No. 16 Blenheim
| road, N. w. 1t might have been the wilds
| Of Africa that demanded. / had to go to
! Charing Cross, ask hanson propeller to go
| TO the postoffce and study London's map be-
| fore 1 set sail. / suffered from a sickly hope
| that the tea would be passed before /
| reached Mrs. Potter's and that I should
| have nothing to do but drink, pretty crea-
| ture, drink
1 was whizzed through the labyrinths Of
| London at an unholy gait, however, and
| reached Mrs. Potter's house on time. She
| lives in the midst Of a blooming garden
| C'blooming'' Is not sangily used, please.) 1t
| was nesty, and leafy, and far-from-the-
| madding crowd-y. and altogether charming.
| 1t might have been picked up by some
| sensible giant and flung where it was-miles
| from the Niagara Of the metropolis. Sane
| and artistic Mrs. Potter! Catch her living
| in brick terrace with stone steps!
1 was ushered into the garden. where.
| to my horror, saw that tea had not
started Mrs Potter looked radiant S r;,,a YOU o,
| any rate). but / can't refrain from dsscrib-
| ing our erstwhile society dame" Not
| year has been added to her appearance.
| She is as wilowy as a reluctant maiden
cite and cream-skinned and smootn as
| an eighteen-year-older. Her face looks no
| nance of Maude Adams, but 1t is far more
| bewildering. Let me see what she wore.
First. must chronicle huge bla Sar nat nat,
| lures look like tuppence ha penny, and her
| hair like FURNISHED gold. She had just come
from the Charing Cross bazaar; ,s ana hef
| there be such a thing as foulard Silks
| there?-it was fouard silk: / don't know
shsna It looked cut lacey and friiy and
| scrambly and irregular.
HER ENGLISH FRIEND.
| A pallid Harmsworth journalist sat beside
| her, and cast q look Of reproach and disgust
| at me- I suppose he thought that was In
| very bad taste. / reciprocated, and hated
| him instantly I need hardly say that they
| were waiting tea for me. and Of course
| Just like my luck-I had to pass him a cup.
| My hands trembled. Mrs. Potter's eyes were
| on me. One moment more and the Oolong
would have cast a brown shadow upon his
| pearl-gray trousers. / steadied my nerves,
| and he rescued the cup and saucer from
| my fingers.
| the afternoon" said Mrs. Potter easily, as
| she helped herself to thin bread and butter,
| and watched me as burnt my fingers in an
know how agonizing it is to suddenly feel
| boiling tea in your mouth ai'd TO be forced.
| for etfquettes sake, to swallow it, Il have
been bazaaring all day-London is bazaar
| American bar. where they did me the honor
| to name a certain drink the Miladi SMILE!
| them?"
| The pallid journalist plunged into an of
fetal programme and guide" Of the Char
! ity to make Mrs. Potter talk. She piled me
| with bread and butter, and retaliated with
| Yes She said as she poured hot water on
| the tea leaves. Il believe that am happier
now than have ever been in all my life. I
| got 1t at last. You don't realize what that
means. / made a hit as Miadi and now 1
can do no wrong over here. When ] APP
peared In 'Carnac Sahib' had very little to
| do. At the end of the performance they
| yelled for me. Why? Because they remem-
bered me as Miladi and were grateful. 1t
4 iS char Ypin nj
thin < charming arrangement 00n' you
| Ny tea was cooler. and l felt easier She
| always failed7-it is so different New York
| ers clamor for a new sensation each season.
| 1t is like beginning all over again. They
thing is forgotten for the sake of the latest
novelty. In London, once make hit and
| you can do no wrong. 1t is hard work get
ting there, but when you arrive, the game Is
| exquisitely worth the candle, and you nestle
| in comfortable sensations. I hope to try my
native land again-but not next season-and
| perhaps 1 may win yet. The press has been
| very very unkind to me In America. Posi-
lively if / were the sort of woman 1 have
read In the American papers that am,
| should hate to meet myself. / should cut
my own acquaintance"
This was embarrassing and my teacup
shook! / protested idiotically. with an .'Oh,
no. and a Surely mott" in an utterly
anemic and disastrous way, but Mrs. Potter
merely smiled and slipped her tea.
IN London" she resumed, they treat
Il
Society quarrels over them. Society hank
ers to entertain them. If you have once sue
ceeded you are taken up and petted. They
can't do enough for you. And 1t seems to me
that this is the right spirit. Actors and act
resses are people of talent. Brains should be
the key that opens drawing rooms. Brain is
a finer commodity than money any day The
successful actor, novelist and Journalist
have the entree everywhere IN London. No
drawing room is considered complete with
out them. In New York they are looked
down upon The nerve Of New York society
people. Just think of them! What nerve,"
Sparks leaped from Mrs. Potter's eyes as
she said What nerve!' The pallid journal
list looked up warmly. i felt as though I
should catch fire and burn up before her
II love London" she continued more
quietly. "Of course / not a star, with
Beerbohm Tree. but stars in London mean
nothing at all. 1t is ones work that il
starred. 1t stands out quickly. People
speak of Mrs. Potter In The Musketeers'
or Irene Vanbrugh in The Gay Lord Ouex'
features OF those plays. You can start with
your name In smallest type and IL they take
you they will discuss you as though your
pictures were plastered all over the high
ways and byways Of the metropolis A first
night audience I'm London is a remarkable
thing. Perhaps you don't know that ii is al
most an invitation affair. There is rarely
more than go $500 in the house But the
verdict of the first night is final. There is
very seldom any appeal from IL. You stand
or fall by what that first night crowd OF
friends and guests happen to say. And when
they call you out and applaud you you can
consider yourself lucky person"
Mrs. Potter took some more tea and
poured out another for the