uction of "Secret
Service," in 1897, at the Adelphi Theater, he became the real envoy from
the New World of plays to the Old. It was an ambassadorship that gave
him an infinite pride, for it brought fame and fortune to the American
playwright and the American actor abroad. Frohman's envoyship was as
advantageous to England as it was to the United States, because he was
the instrument through which the best of the modern English plays and
the most brilliant of the modern English actors found their hearing on
this side of the water.

Frohman was immensely interested in the English production of "Secret
Service." Gillette himself headed the company. Both he and Frohman were
in a great state of expectancy. The play hung fire until the third act.
When the big scene came British reserve melted and there was a great
ovation. It was an immediate success and had a long run.

One feature of the play that amused the critics and theater-goers
generally in London was the fact that the spy in "Secret Service," who
was supposed to be the bad man of the play, received all the sympathy
and the applause, while the hero was arrested and always had the worst
of it, even when he was denouncing the spy. Gillette's quiet but
forceful style of acting was a revelation to the Londoners.

It was during this engagement that an intimate friend said to Terriss,
the great English actor who was distinguished for his impulsiveness:

"Chain yourself to a seat at the Adelphi some night and learn artistic
repose from Gillette."

Concerning the first night of "Secret Service" is another one of the
many Frohman stories. When a London newspaper man asked the American
manager about the magnificent celebration that he was sure had been held
to commemorate Gillette's triumph, Frohman said:

"There was nothing of the sort. Mr. Dillingham, my manager, and I joined
Mr. Gillette in his rooms at the Savoy. We had some sandwiches and wine
and then played 'hearts' for several hours."

This episode inspired Frohman to give utterance to what was the very
key-note of his philosophy about an actor and his work. Talking with a
friend in England shortly after the opening of "Secret Service," about
the modest way in which Gillette regarded his success, he said:

"Nothing so kills the healthy growth of an actor and brings his
usefulness to an end so soon, as the idea that social enjoyment is a
means to public success, and that industrious labor to improve himself
is