The Confederate Stage

By R. L. Clutter

There were but two cities in the entire confederacy where the stage flourished to any considerable extent during the four eventful years of the late unpleasantness. The two fortunate places were New Orleans and Richmond. The people of the former city have always been celebrated for their pleasure-loving natures, and no matter how dark the outlook the theaters kept open their doors and the excitement of war only seemed to add Zest to the enjoyment of the habitues of the opera houses. But after the fall of the crescent city and the establishing of military rule this came to an end and the buldings so long devoted to actors on the mimic state were used as barracks for the victors--actors in a drama the greatest the world has ever witnessed.

But Richmond was the real home of the confederate stage, if it can be thus dignified, and it is of the actors and the theaters of the southern capital that I propose to write. The capital had always been a good show town, and, though it had but one theater of any pretensions, it supported that one well, and in consequence all of the best troupes on the "southern circuit" stopped in the city.

When the Old Dominion, after carefully weighing the question of secession had decided to side with her southern sisters, the capital was immediately removed from Montgomery, Ala, to Richmond, and thus a large floating population was added to her already increased number of inhabitants. At the time of the withdrawal of the southern states from the union the population of Richmond wa 45,000, but upon the selection of the city as the capital of the new nation it rapidly grew, and the census of 1863 showed exactly double that number. Most of the strangers in the city were senators and congressmen with their families, civil and army officers and large numbers of refugees from those sections of the south threatened with invasion by the federal armies. With few exceptions the visitors were people of refinement and culture, and their presence in the city formed a splendid field for an enterprising manager.

For, of course, when war was declared the "Southern circuit" was necessarily taken from the lists of northern managers, and as it was from that section that all the companies came that supplied the Richmond theaters, they were compelled to close. In the excitement of the times the absence of amusements was almost forgotten, and the state that had once resounded with the voices of Booth and Forrest was now silent, and the chairs that were wont to be occupied by the belles and cavaliers of the Old Dominion were covered thickly with dust. The young men who had once frequented the place were hurrying to the front, battles were being fought, and nothing was discussed but "wars and rumors of wars." The theater that had for so long been an institution of the place, was for the time being forgotten.

But this forgetfulness and seeming indifference was only a natural outgrowth of the times--only the middle ground in the change from the old condition of things to the new. This thinking of only battles and bloodshed would not last always, and especially did it become tiresome to the pleasure-loving people of the far south. People began to look wistfully at the vacant theater, and think of the pleasant evenings that had been spent within its walls before "the dogs of war" had been let loose.

A large floating population is always favable to the success of the theater, and this rule proved true even in the anxious capital of the new nation. Another voice was also added to the call for the re-establishing of the theater when the officers and privates on furlough commenced coming in from the field. Many of them lived in distant states and preferred spending their short leave in the capital rather than risk the delays of a long journey on the disorganized railroads of the confederacy. Thus the people gradually settled in the new groove, and then it was that they felt the need of some public place of amusement.

The hour demanded a man, and he came forth, no one knew whence. He bore the high-sounding name of D'Orsy Ogden, and he became the lessee of the old theater. By his energy and perseverance a stock company was formed, and a troupe employed embracing most of the available talent of the capital, and it was further strengthened by half a dozen actors from New York who had been stranded in Dixie at the breaking out of the war, and had been unable to return. Out of this crude material Ogden molded a company, the most original, perhaps, that had ever graced the boards of any theater.

The blockade of the confederate ports was fast cutting off all communication with the outside world and only an occasional ship would succeed in running the gaunlet. In consequence of this the supply of material of which to make costumes was very small, and the actors had to resort to expedients that resulted in the manufacture of most remarkable wardrobe costumes that ever formed part of the property of a troupe. Could they be procured today they would be valuable as curiosities, made up as they were of yellow, red and blue flannel and trimmed with tissue paper and tinsel. These gaudy dresses together with the awkward movements of the semi-amateur actors, made many of the more sober plays appear much like burlesque.

At last, after many days of hard work by Ogden and numberless rehearsals by the company, the first night was announced, and never perhaps in the history of the stage was there a first night to compare with that memorable one.

It was a study for an artist, this audience that had once been so famed for its brilliant toilets. But the factories of the north were silent and the cotton plantations of the south had been turned into battlefields. Men had more serious work to do than to make things to please the eye. But though the costumes of the audience were in some instances homely, fairer women or braver men never met. Here sat four ladies dressed in antique silks, rescued from old clothes presses, where they had been packed by grandmothers with never a thought to what uses they would one day be put. By the side of the fine old silks sat patriotic ladies, just as fair, in homespun cloth that contrasted strangely with the rare old laces, yellow with age. Here were officers of the army and navy in all the glory of gold lace and glittering epaulettes, which had been brought from over the sea by the blockade runners. Here by their sides were muddy and battle-stained privates just from the field--many of them without leave, for the sake of an evening of pleasure.

The first play performed by the new troupe was a comedy, and it made a great hit, having been faithfully rehearsed for two months. Its success was assured before the performance commenced, for the people had so long been without amusements they were easily pleased. Night after night the people of the confederate capital were treated to light comedy and occasionally to a badly sung opera. The company now produced the latest plays as they were brought out of London and Paris, for Ogden had soon made arrangements with the blockade runners to furnish him with the new plays. He also received from London a better wardrobe of costumes.

The theater was now in the full tide of its success, and its manager on the road to fortune. The members of the troupe were flattered with their easy success, and comedy lost all charms for them. No sooner did some of the members get over their first stage-fright than each bright particular star concluded that he or she was a second Booth or Mrs. Sidons, and could be seen at best advantage in the heaviest of tragedy. So fierce was the war waged between the comedian and tragedian factions that the company was in danger of disruption. Tragedy was the stronger, however, and Ogden gave way to the pressure.

So the company left the gentle waters of light comedy and plunged into the raging sea of heavy tragedy.

Where the lone damsel, with a frantic screech,
And cheeks as hueless as a brandy peach,
Cries "Help, ky-ind heaven!" and falls upon her knees
On the green haize beneath the canvas trees:
See to her help, avenging valor fly!
"Ha! villain, draw! Ter-rator, yield or die!"

Had the soldiers who formed the larger part of the audience been consulted they would certainly have opposed the change. They saw enough tragedy in their own experience, and each one of them had the material out of which one could have been written. Comedy had been diversion and rest for them, but the heavier plays of Shakespeare and the dramatists of his school brought back the scenes of the battlefield only too plainly. But the rise of the new schools of tragedians was soon to pass away in smoke, for in the midst of the season the theater was destroyed by fire.

What is counted a misfortune by one class of people is a victory to another. The ministers and older citizens of the capital had long denounced the theater and all kindred amusements as "dancing over a crater" and unfitted for the times. They now rejoiced that one source of their annoyance had been removed.

But with the soldiers and the majority of the citizens it was popular, and they determined to have it. With the promise of their support the irrepressible D'Orsy Ogden went to work with a will and soon had another building in process of erection. The work progressed slowly for want of sufficient available labor, and in the meantime the many strangers in the city had no place of resort. In consequence the boys in gray would push themselves into any place that promised amusement and their tattered uniforms made up a large part of every assemblage.

A marriage taking place in a church came to be an ordeal to be endured only by the bravest, for the soldiers would be the first there, and would crowd up the aisles and into the vestibule in such numbers that it became almost impossible for the bridal party to reach the altar. Some would even make a flank movement and secure a perilous seat on the window sill. These latter were mostly of Stonewall Jackson's division, which was noted for its flank movements. The crowds at last became so great that it was no unusual sight to see soldiers stationed at church doors with fixed bayonets and orders to admit no one who wore a uniform unless he bore a ticket.

To gratify this taste for amusements the ladies of the Soldiers' Aid Society, of which Mrs. General Lee was president, held a series of receptions at the hotels, to which all who wore confederate uniforms were admitted. On account of the very high price of refreshments, none were served, but there was good music, and sometimes a ball was held. But it seemed as if nothing could supply the place of the theater, and when, in February, 1863, it was reopened, it easily took its old place in public favor.

The first night of the season of 1863 was the most brilliant of them all, though the altered fortunes of the people were reflected in the toilets, which were now homelier than before.

A prize poem by Henry Timrod, of South Carolina, was read by Mr. Walter Keeble, after which a "pas seul" was performed by Miss Mary Partington, the most popular danseuse of the capital. After these preliminaries the company returned to its first love of comedy, presented in a style never before attempted Shakespeare's "As You Like It." That versatile genius, D"Orsy Ogden, eclipsed himself in the role of Orlando, and Kate Estelle, as Rosalind, delighted the audience and won for herself fresh laurels.

Once more started on its career the theater met with no more misfortunes until the fall of Richmond. Its original lessee Ogden stood by it to the last. As the fortunes of the confederacy fluctuated, so did the receipts of his house. It all depended then as now upon the prosperity and temperament of the people. When the confederates were victorious a large crowd greeted the company, and good humor was seen in every face. But when the federal troops gained a success, a small crowd and gloomy faces were the rule.

Ogden has been called the "Founder of the Confederate Stage," and I for one freely grant him the doubtful honor. As Richelieu, Macbeth, Hamlet, and a dozen other characters, he helped to lighten the cares of his countrymen, and for this he deserves praise. Where he is now I do not know, but in memory he always recalls the couplet of his great master:

"Take him for all in all,
We shall not look upon his like again."

As has been stated, Ogden's theater had not a few enemies in the capital. Many of the older men did not think it proper to keep places of amusement open nightly while battles upon which hung the fate of a nation were being fought and the hospitals were filled to overflowing with the wounded. But the living had also to be thought of, and gloomy faces by the fireside when the weary soldier came home on a short furlough from a hard-fought and perhaps disastrous campaign did not help his cause. Gloom is contagious, and should he have found mothers and sisters despondent it would have done much to destroy the esprit du corps of the army. Cheerful faces inspired him with new vigor, and he went back to his comrades with a determination to win.

The women of the south behaved nobly in those last dark days, and no doubt many a heart heavy with sorrow was hid behind smiling face by mothers, sisters and sweethearts as they sat in the old theater looking at the stage.