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Cl)arlotte Cufifjman 
 
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 BY 
 
 
 LAWRENCE iBARRETT 
 
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 WITH AN APPENDIX CONTAINING A LETTER 
 FROM JOSEPH N. IRELAND 
 
 
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 '^ l^etD^pirft, 1889. 
 
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This is one of an edition of one hundred and 
 seventy-five copies printed from type for The 
 Dunlap Society in the month of June, 1889. 
 
 , (^^(^e^i^^t^t-t^ t^^-\ 
 
CHARLOTTE CUSHMAN 
 
Reproduced by kind pemtissioti of D. Appleton & Co. 
 
 CHARLOTTE CUSHMAN. 
 
CHARLOTTE CUSHMAN 
 
 3t accture 
 
 BY 
 
 LAWRENCE BARRETT 
 
 WITH AN APPENDIX CONTAINING A LETTER 
 FROM JOSEPH N. IRELAND 
 
 NEW-YORK 
 
 THE DUNLAP SOCIETY 
 1889 
 
PNXI&I 
 C8£)3 
 
 Mr. Henry Edwards, one of the Executive Committee 
 of The Dunlap Society, has kindly consented to prepare 
 the Bibliography of Charlotte Cushman and the List 
 of Portraits. It is expected that they will be ready next 
 winter in time to appear as an appendix to the next vol-, 
 ume of Biennial Reports. 
 
 New- York, June z, i8Sg. 
 
 484 
 
Cijarlotte Cusijman. 
 
 WOMAN'S influence, wherever exercised in the 
 world's interests, has invariably tended to good. 
 Her personality has not only stimulated the object of 
 her labor, it has also elevated and refined it, opening 
 up new possibilities, and creating new avenues to excel- 
 lence. It was she who taught, by her example to the 
 barbarian, the creed of mercy which " seasons justice." 
 In her name the bloody code became less terrible, 
 while over the cruel heart of the tyrant she has often 
 shed the divine light of forgiveness, manifesting her 
 influence by deeds of mercy and kindness. Her office 
 has ever been to inspire the hero with courage, to 
 quicken his temper to lofty emotions, and to hold the 
 reward for his valor and tenderness in the priceless 
 quality of her love. Over the darkest horrors of the 
 feudal system she gives forth the only Hght which es- 
 capes from that era of ignorance and cruelty, in acts 
 of mediation and tenderness which soften and melt the 
 obdurate heart of the barbarous feudal sovereign. The 
 days of chivalry arise only as a manifestation of her 
 growing influence, and show to mankind a higher pur- 
 
2 €|)ariotte Cu^gman* 
 
 pose and a more noble career than that from which she 
 had emancipated the nations. 
 
 SensibiHty and imagination are hers; the quaUties 
 which lead to high purposes and to progress. Finding 
 a sphere for her own and the world's improvement, 
 where man has passed blindly over, these divine quali- 
 ties aid her in applying to her new career the best 
 means to attain the end. In her hours of ease shrink- 
 ing and timid, she rises to the heroic when called upon 
 to suffer or to sacrifice. Seemingly formed for seclusion 
 and retirement, she becomes bold and fearless when the 
 occasion demands, and the nerves which quivered at 
 an imaginary peril are braced with unflinching firm- 
 ness when the real crisis arrives. 
 
 " Is it for this, the Spanish maid aroused, 
 
 Hangs on the willow her unstrung guitar, 
 
 And all unsexed, the anlace hath espoused, 
 
 Sung the loud song and dared the deed of war ? 
 
 And she, whom once the semblance of a scar 
 
 Appall'd, an owlet's larum chilled with dread, 
 
 Now views the column-scattering bay'net jar, 
 
 The falchion flash, and o'er the yet warm dead 
 
 Stalks with Minerva's step where Mars might quake to tread." 
 
 Her mission is to purify, to ennoble, to elevate ; and 
 wherever she becomes man's fellow-worker, that which 
 she takes upon her to do is certainly improved in those 
 directions. The avenues formerly were few by which 
 she could independently influence the world, and preju- 
 dice and ignorance, for many centuries denying her 
 claims to equality in the fields of labor with man, held 
 
Cljariotte Cu^ljman* 3 
 
 back her growth and retarded her ultimate influence. 
 Shining exceptions had forcibly burst the bonds which 
 enslaved the sex in all the ages ; but it was not until 
 the latter part of the seventeenth century that women 
 could boldly demand a place by the side of man in 
 other labors than those of the spinning-wheel, the 
 plow, and the domestic hearth. Casting off the 
 shackles which had bound her to bodily servitude, and 
 spurning the law which chained her to the menial serv- 
 ice of her master, she forced her way into literature ; 
 and, as usual, the drama, which has ever been, not 
 only the evidence, but the pioneer of all civilizations, 
 became the open door by which she made her entry 
 upon the arena of thought. The patient fingers which 
 had woven the gorgeous tapestries adorning the palaces 
 of kings could also grasp the pen and carry into litera- 
 ture the influences of taste, culture, and a noble purpose, 
 which should refine and elevate while instructing the 
 world. She came at a happy time for England and 
 for mankind. Her advent was needed. The reaction 
 after the strain of false piety which Puritanism had 
 introduced was fatal to all decency, all morality. The 
 spirit of bigotry which had overthrown free thought 
 and all literature, with the divine right of kings, after 
 closing the theaters, and interdicting the immortal works 
 of the Elizabethan dramatists as impure and impious, 
 for a score of years had at last yielded to a new era, 
 whose riotous protest against the hypocrisy of the past 
 was even worse for mankind than the evil it cast out. 
 The very sources of thought were poisoned. License 
 became the order of the day, and decency and purity 
 
4 Cljariotte Cu^fjman* 
 
 of life were the scoff of the men of fashion, the jest of 
 the court. With the opening of the theaters, a new 
 literature was created ; a literature abounding in wit, 
 but reeking with the filth which could only be agree- 
 able to the wants of the age. The theater of the time 
 illustrated the culture and taste of its frequenters as 
 truly as it has ever done ; and even a brief examination 
 will show us the height to which public taste has 
 attained. 
 
 Before the death of Charles I., and even under the 
 narrow policy of his father, the theater still lived under 
 the influence imparted to it by those immortal writers 
 and actors who clustered at the feet of Elizabeth, and 
 helped to make her reign so glorious. The example 
 of such an actor as Alleyn, the companion and friend 
 of Shakspere and Jonson, the founder of Dulwich Col- 
 lege, — of such a gifted scholar and actor as Cart- 
 wright, who bequeathed books, paintings, and furni- 
 ture to the same school, — prove to us that the stage 
 of the Elizabethan era had reached a position from 
 which it was moving on to higher and nobler planes 
 of excellence. The actors were coadjutors of the 
 great authors in improving the public taste, and the 
 drama bade fair to rival the best days of the Grecian 
 period, both in the qualityof its literature and the aim 
 of its existence. License of speech and freedom of 
 expression had not yet been banished from the lips of 
 men, and the influence of the days of woman's enslave- 
 ment was yet too strong; but, compared with the 
 Restoration, the language of Elizabeth was purity and 
 decency itself. 
 
Cljariotte Cu^ljinan* 
 
 The sparkling wit and exuberant humor of the 
 writers of that period atone in a measure for their free 
 speech; they degenerate into license only in the 
 riotous play of their bubbling fancy ; and the sprightly 
 language of Benedict and Beatrice only now and then 
 betrays the prevalent taste of the age, which would 
 have resented license without wit, and rejected mere 
 suggestions of impurity without the adornment of 
 fancy. While yet the roots were fragile in the soil, 
 they were torn up and cast aside by the violence of 
 the tempest which swept over England, destroying 
 not only all the fresh hope which had but newly 
 sprung in the national heart of a vigorous and healthy 
 literature, but sweeping away all landmarks and oblit- 
 erating alike the glorious and the inglorious past of 
 England. In the dark night of Puritanism the stage 
 was mute. The doors of the Globe and the Curtain 
 theaters were closed, many of the actors serving either 
 in the royalist army, like Mohun, or, living from hand 
 to mouth in spite of the law, furtively pursuing their 
 vocation in the country houses of the great nobility. 
 
 With the Restoration came the drama again. The 
 theaters were opened, and once more the kings and 
 queens of tragedy and comedy hold their mimic reign. 
 The form and structure of the new theater were the 
 same as the old, the one modeled upon the other. 
 The stage was still a dark and dirty space, ill-lighted 
 by a row of candles in front and at the sides. The 
 scenery was as poor and meager as that for which the 
 chorus in " Henry V." apologized fourscore years 
 before in Shakspere's Globe. The parts of women 
 
6 Cljariotte CujBfljman* 
 
 were still taken by boy actresses ; and Kynaston was 
 at the same time the Ophelia and the Prince Hal of 
 the theater. The literature, however, was changed. 
 The new era produced a whole volume of dramatists 
 whose works immediately usurped the stage. The 
 tragic bombast of Tamerlane replaced the tragedy of 
 passion and nature of the Elizabethan age; while 
 comedy, which reflects the social habits and follies of 
 the time, took on all the hues of the Restoration. As 
 the people had so long denied themselves all healthy 
 amusement, so they now ran riot in the opposite direc- 
 tion. The court was the scandal of all decent people, 
 and the stage became its mirror — no better, no worse, 
 save that what might be suggestive or coarse from the 
 lips of a boy actress became blasphemy or obscenity 
 when uttered by a Castlemaine or a Portsmouth. The 
 playhouse then was the resort of the wits and young 
 sparks of the town, to which they adjourned after a 
 parade in Green Park or a dinner at Will's coffee-house, 
 to chat with each other during the scenes of a play, or 
 disturb a performance by their interruptions of the 
 players. They occupied places on the stage itself, 
 and the actors were jostled by them when entering for 
 a scene or in the midst of one. In a word, the uproar 
 behind the footlights of the theater must have gready 
 disturbed the decorous representation of tragedy or 
 comedy. The ladies of degree who came to the play 
 were masked, and would have blushed to be seen 
 otherwise there ; while a Sedley or a Rochester chatted 
 aloud in the boxes in the midst of the ravings of 
 Monimia^ or exchanged personalities with the orange 
 
Cprlottc Cu^ljmait 7 
 
 girls of the pit, while Betterton was uttering the splen- 
 did soliloquies of Hamlet. The representation of 
 female characters by women banished much of the 
 indecorum of stage manners from public observation, 
 and, while the change did little at first toward 
 improving the morals of the stage or its literature, it 
 forced the evils into the shade, where they became less 
 publicly offensive, and from which at last, in a purer 
 era and thanks to the influence of women, they were 
 banished entirely. It seems scarcely possible that the 
 heroines of the Shaksperean drama could have been 
 created at a time when there were no females to 
 represent them — that the great bard could have 
 borne to see the divine graces of his Ophelia, Imogen, 
 Viola, or Desdemona bodied forth by even so good a 
 boy actress as a Nokes or a Kynaston, who were the 
 last and best of the school ; and it is hard for us to 
 fancy how an audience could patiently endure such 
 performances. Thus the stage was ready for a new 
 departure in many branches. 
 
 It came in the first place through the intervention 
 of Davenant, who introduced woman to the stage, and 
 was carried forward at one step in the life and work 
 of Thomas Betterton, gentleman, an actor who was 
 fitted by genius and character to be the reformer of 
 the stage ; who, in the midst of an age of corruption 
 and licentiousness, led a pure and studious life, elevated 
 his art incredibly in his fifty years of service, and died, 
 full of honors, while still in harness. By his side stands 
 the beautiful Miss Sanderson, who afterward became 
 his wife — the idol of the stage, the glory of her name ; 
 
8 €|)ariottc CujB?l)mait 
 
 one of the first of the actresses and one of the purest of 
 women ; a grand artist, a noble wife, whose Ophelia 
 became the type of her own fate, as she died insane 
 when her Hamlet, Betterton, had passed away, and 
 one grave held both — the first lady and gentleman of 
 the stage after the Restoration. In the same company 
 were Miss Davies, a fine actress of tragic parts; 
 Elizabeth Barry, the " beautiful," as she was called, 
 and the generous rival of Mrs. Betterton ; and Mrs. 
 Bracegirdle, who lived to see Garrick. 
 
 As soon as the barriers were thrown down which 
 had kept woman from the stage, a line of gifted per- 
 sons immediately usurped the throne, and developed 
 new beauties in the test of the great dramatists. The 
 field in which sensibility and imagination, allied to 
 beauty, could be displayed had been at length dis- 
 covered ; and with a stroke all the old shackles which 
 had bound her sex were cut away, and she freely rose 
 to her new station, with the influence for good which 
 had never abandoned her. A new royalty was given 
 to her keeping. She who had so often directed the 
 actions of man in the court and the camp was now his 
 rival in the domain of the intellect. At once it was 
 seen that woman could write as well as act, and soon 
 the field of imaginative literature was open to her, 
 wherein she has since maintained her ground. Con- 
 sider the career of some of these extraordinary women. 
 Instantly commanding the admiration of the town by 
 their genius, either in tragedy or comedy, they soon 
 attain to that influence which affects the destiny of 
 nations. A Mountfort charms at sixty, and leads 
 
C[)ari0tte Cu^ftmait* 9 
 
 her slaves captive by the double chain of beauty and 
 talent. Moll Davies invades the palace by her match- 
 less graces, disputing with a duchess upon the thresh- 
 old of royal favor, and becomes the female head of a 
 royal house, whose descendants are to-day among the 
 proudest nobility of England. Nell Gwynne throws 
 down her orange basket into the pit where she found 
 ^ it, leaps upon the stage as a queen of comedy, laughs 
 her way into a people's love and a monarch's favor, 
 founds Greenwich Hospital, establishes a line of royal 
 dukes, becomes the last thought of a dying king, and 
 at thirty-eight leaves a memory over which the angels 
 weep when contemplating her possibilities in a better 
 and purer age. The line is never broken. The 
 grave closes over a Charles, a James, and a William, 
 and the glorious reign of Anne is ushered in. The air 
 becomes clearer, and we can see the dawn of that bet- 
 ter day which was promised when woman first came to 
 the stage. An Oldfield, a Gibber, a Bracegirdle pass 
 before us, stately queens of tragedy ; a Woffington and 
 a Glive laugh at us through the mask of Laetitia or the 
 fan of Lady Betty Modish, and we are already far 
 away from the days of Dryden and Etherege and 
 Wycherley. Kitty Clive may weary the soul of poor 
 Garrick by her caprice; Mrs. Gibber may cry and 
 cozen by her beauty and genius (for these grand 
 creatures are capricious women still) ; but already is 
 bom a being who, having none of the traditions of a 
 vicious past to hamper her, — creature of a more de- 
 corous and decent age, — will create anew the helpful- 
 ness of her sex, and carry still higher the standard 
 
lo Cl^ariotte Cu^l^mam 
 
 under which she is enrolled. Already the Siddons is 
 here, and the rustling of the robes of the tragic muse 
 is heard as the laugh of Kitty Clive dies away and 
 pretty Mrs. Bellamy goes into retirement. The stage, 
 which reflects its era, has been no worse than its time, 
 and as the old eighteenth century passes into night, 
 the dawn reveals a better hope for the incoming age. 
 
 The comedy of wit and the drama of sentiment, 
 which came in about the middle of the century and 
 supplanted the obscenity of the Restoration, gave way 
 in its time before a revival whose influence is still felt 
 by us. The direction of German inquiry toward the 
 drama of Shakspere, in the works of Lessing, Goethe, 
 and the Schlegels, gave a new impetus and a new 
 direction to English thought about the last quarter of 
 the century gone. French imitations and empty frivol- 
 ity, lofty bombast and prurient sentimentality, fell at 
 once before the revival of those plays which, created 
 in the birthplace of the romantic school, and reflecting 
 the nature of man and his passions as no other drama 
 since JEschylus and Euripides had done, will survive 
 as long as English is spoken or read. As the leader 
 and exemplar of this revival appeared David Garrick, 
 who was destined to gain not only a present fame 
 and fortune as his reward, but to reach a late pos- 
 terity by his association with a revival which embraced 
 a complete revolution in the thought of England. He 
 was well fitted to bear the honors of such a task. A 
 man of learning and of taste, a poet and dramatist, as 
 well as a great actor, the companion of the greatest wits 
 and statesmen of his time, — a thoughtful, far-seeing 
 
Cijariottc Cuj9?l)man* 
 
 II 
 
 man of business as well, — he appears as the very fittest 
 champion of the new task. Under his guidance at 
 last the sensibility and imagination of gifted women 
 like the Pritchards, Bellamy, and Gibber find a sphere 
 of expression in the characters of Shakspere, too long 
 banished from the stage. Clothed at last in befitting 
 and appropriate costume, the magic of their beauty, 
 the tenderness of their expression, the delicacy of their 
 representation, placed these heroines, the Ophelia^ the 
 Beatrice^ the gentle Viola^ where they still remain, at 
 the summit of ideal characterization. The girlish pas- 
 sion of Juliet^ whose soul reflected the purity of child- 
 hood, was presented with all its creator's purpose in 
 the hands of Mrs. Gibber; the hoidenish Rosalind 
 wore her doublet and hose in a " mannish fashion " 
 under the smile of a Jordan, and Imogen lived at last 
 in the mirror of a Bellamy's genius. How would 
 Shakspere have rejoiced over such grand realizations 
 of his fancy ! Succeeding to the curule chair of David 
 Garrick, " whose death eclipsed the gayety of nations," 
 came the Kembles, a family whose line is not yet 
 extinct. They furnished a grand chapter to stage his- 
 tory, and lifted their art still higher than they found it. 
 The foreign drama caught the infection of the time, 
 and Talma on the French stage rivaled Garrick and 
 the Kembles on the English. In Mrs. Siddons the 
 grand heroines of Shakspere found a worthy interpreter. 
 In her hands new beauties were added to Lady Macbeth, 
 to Volumnia, and other stately heroines of the tragic 
 school. A woman of strong character herself, pure 
 and lofty of nature, she carried into her art all her vigor 
 
12 Cljariotte Cu^efliman* 
 
 of intellect, all the culture of the higher mental qualities, 
 and her performances were marked by the evidences of 
 thought and the temperament of a stainless womanhood. 
 
 A pure literature found a pure representative. The 
 impure lives and the gross manners of the Restoration, 
 which had defiled the court and the stage, had passed 
 away, and a nobler and better condition had arisen. 
 Henceforward the heroines of the theater were to be 
 judged by the standard of a Siddons, not only in talent, 
 but in character, and an O'Neil, an Ellen Tree, a Miss 
 Warner, and a Charlotte Cushman became the inherit- 
 ors of both these qualities. Under these distinguished 
 women, the drama, voicing the sentiment of a healthy 
 civilization, moved upward in its lofty mission. 
 
 To show how the last named of these royal souls 
 carried out her share of the task allotted to her is the 
 object of this essay — a labor at once of love and justice 
 to a departed friend and a great woman. Touching 
 only upon the salient points of her career it will not 
 be necessary to enter into details or statistics. Through 
 the male and female branches of her family she claimed 
 affinity with the only aristocracy New England can 
 boast. Amongst that devout band which fled from 
 papistry, persecution, and playhouses, the ancestors of 
 our first American actress were registered — an accident 
 of birth which she was never called upon to assert in 
 excuse of her genius, but which nevertheless did not 
 manifest itself until she had reflected backward from 
 the brilliancy of her own meteoric course a bright light 
 upon the " hardy few " who in darkness and trial began 
 our civilization two centuries ago. Whatever may have 
 
been the worldly circumstances of those whose blood 
 she inherited and ennobled, her own immediate sur- 
 roundings at her birth were humble enough. The 
 difficulties of her early life only developed to their 
 utmost all the higher qualities of Charlotte Cushman's 
 nature. Bom of a family which had no wealth to 
 bestow, she saw early the necessity of mapping out 
 her own future. Having a fine voice and a robust 
 physique, with a natural taste she soon devoted herself 
 to music, looking hopefully through her years of pre- 
 paratory labor to the time when she might take her 
 place among the queens of the lyric stage. Whoever 
 has known the difficulties of preparation and study 
 which a musical training calls for can appreciate how, 
 unaided by wealth or influence, this woman struggled 
 to obtain what was necessary not only to satisfy an 
 art craving born with her, but to silence that other 
 handmaid of the arts, the calls of want and the needs 
 of those depending upon her for bread. The story of 
 her self-sacrifices in this novitiate I need not dwell upon. 
 In all her trials she was upheld by the nobility of her 
 purpose. In this purpose she was destined to fail. 
 Her loss of voice at the critical moment of trial for- 
 ever closed that avenue to fame. Nothing daunted 
 by her first failure, which involved all the care of her 
 many years of study, she dashed away her tears and 
 sought another path by which her fortunes might 
 advance. An opportunity presented itself in a kindred 
 art, and as Lady Macbeth Charlotte Cushman, taking 
 advantage of such dramatic training as she had obtained 
 incidentally to her musical instruction, stepped for the 
 
14 Cl^arlotte Cujfl^ljniait 
 
 first time before the public whose service she was des- 
 tined to Hve and die in. The song of Semiramis was 
 changed to the war cry of the Scottish Thane's wife, 
 and her own indomitable purpose was well illustrated 
 in the fine scorn of Lady Macbeth when her vacillating 
 lord hints at failure. She knew not that beast word. 
 Her success was immediate. Her physique assisted 
 her greatly in the physical requirements of the charac- 
 ter; and it was evident that she possessed a quick and 
 observing mind, which would seize and retain the 
 technical stage knowledge yet necessary for her advance- 
 ment. Her face was plain, but of a noble expression ; 
 her form tall and elastic, her gait majestic. The loss 
 of her singing voice had not robbed her of the vocal 
 power necessary for stage purposes, and her musical 
 instruction and nice taste had educated her ear to the 
 proper modulation and economical use of that power 
 which remained. Of a nervous, active temperament, her 
 acting was of the restless type. Repose she never attained 
 to nor seemed to desire. When reproached by a friend 
 for her constant action, which defied repose, she replied 
 that Siddons was so beautiful of feature that she could 
 well be content to stand still and be gazed at. But it 
 was not so with herself; she must occupy the eye with 
 action and movement, for if she were still her beauty 
 would suffer from criticism and half her influence be 
 lost. 
 
 She shared with her fellow-actors in her early 
 career all the vicissitudes of a public service. She 
 became initiated into a love for her art by the trials 
 through which she passed to conquer success, and 
 
Cljariotte Cuiefljitian* 15 
 
 like a true artist scorned to take a short cut in the 
 hope of escaping some necessary drudgery, or seem to 
 be that which she was not. Superficial she could 
 never become. Her earnestness of nature shone 
 through all her dramatic work, and her womanhood 
 penetrated and warmed into sympathetic fervor the 
 picture which she painted. It was impossible that 
 she could do anything with half a mind ; her whole 
 soul was at all times enlisted in her labor. She was 
 surrounded, happily, by a body of gifted actors, at the 
 beginning of her career, from whom she could learn 
 all the traditions of her art. Thus she inherited, in a 
 direct line, all that had been contributed by the richly- 
 endowed beings who had preceded her. She learned 
 eagerly all that they could teach, and added new 
 parts to her repertoire so rapidly that her industry 
 became no less remarkable than her ability. It was 
 well for her that she was not deaf to the advice of 
 those who counseled her to go slowly and surely up 
 each grade of her profession. Thus she escaped the 
 humiliation of retracing any step once taken. 
 
 It was not long before she had passed over all 
 the toilsome steps which lead to the summit. She 
 filled, in a few years, important first positions in the 
 leading theaters of New Orleans, Philadelphia, and 
 New York. Her rivals were numerous, and they 
 possessed advantages which she lacked in feature and 
 in person. She overtopped them all, and proved that 
 these are only accessories, not essentials of the art — 
 that industry and perseverance, allied to mind and 
 character, will accomplish the end far more quickly 
 
1 6 Cljariotte Cu^jjman* 
 
 than unassisted beauty or influence. At an early age 
 she was admitted into the Park Theater in New York 
 as a leading actress. That theater then held a rank 
 and exercised an influence which were superior to 
 those of any other in the country, and the excel- 
 lence of its actors, the discipline of its management, 
 were acknowledged with pride by all professionals. 
 Here she met with the higher influences of her profes- 
 sion. She fell under the instruction of a gentleman 
 like Peter Richings, one of the greatest of the old 
 stage-managers, and here she was subjected to the 
 critical judgment of the best writers of the land. She 
 passed the ordeal triumphantly, rising still higher and 
 higher as the years went on. 
 
 Her experience with Mr. Macready began here. 
 That extraordinary man, whose career was not unlike 
 her own, immediately became interested in the gifted 
 woman who supported him. He had attained his 
 own position in the Old World against difficulties which 
 would have appalled less heroic souls. With little of 
 grace to assist — tall and gaunt in form, with a voice 
 of unprepossessing quality, an expression of harshness 
 peculiar to his nature, a temper morose and sullen — 
 he had by his extraordinary perseverance and industry 
 overcome and surpassed such rivals as Kean, Vanden- 
 hoff", and Young — men who possessed all that he 
 lacked. He scorned indulgence ; he thrust aside all 
 the obstacles in his path, and at last stood alone at 
 the head of the English stage, the center of a band of 
 adoring followers, the idol of a select social circle, the 
 founder of a school, and tlie pillar of the contempo- 
 
Cljariotte Cu^e^ftman* 17 
 
 raneous drama. The remarkable additions made to 
 the volume of dramatic literature during the life-time 
 of Mr. Macready were mainly due to his influence. 
 He assisted and encouraged the writers of his time, 
 and they rewarded him with a series of characters 
 rivaling in number those of Betterton, and excelling 
 them in their quality. He inaugurated the school of 
 patient study, and exploded the theory which indo- 
 lence has always set up in favor of untutored genius, 
 that because an Edmund Kean, bringing a divine 
 spark from heaven, set aside all models and scorned 
 the trammels of use and tradition, every feeble imita- 
 tor of his faults must exhibit the same lofty disregard ; 
 but they were not all Keans, and the plodding actor 
 who made nature his study, and exhausted all appli- 
 ances for his improvement, soon left the genius far in 
 the rear. 
 
 His influence upon his time was remarkable, and 
 upon the kindred spirits of Charlotte Cushman the 
 revelation of his art fell like a message of inspiration. 
 She always maintained that she had groped in the 
 darkness until she met Mr. Macready and learned his 
 methods. She now followed his example in labori- 
 ously seeking in every character she played the nicer 
 shades of meaning, the fugitive impressions which 
 elude the superficial scholar; and tracing in every 
 line for purpose and plan, she brought to her per- 
 formances a harmony and completeness which have 
 never been surpassed. Applying these principles to 
 the study of her great work, she gave Lady Macbeth 
 new intensity, and developed new beauties in the 
 
i8 CJjariotte Cu^ljitian* 
 
 realization of that extraordinary character. Until the 
 era of foreign importation, when it was still the fashion 
 to admire the products of our own institutions and 
 soil, this performance of hers occupied the first place 
 in public esteem. The approach of age, and the weak- 
 ness which comes of disease, never impaired the majesty 
 of this work, and to the last she was the greatest Lady 
 Macbeth of her age. 
 
 Glancing over the governing periods of her life, the 
 most important event which occuiTed about the time 
 now being considered was her visit to England. She 
 had gained all that her own country could give of 
 honor or profit, and it was then the custom for the 
 artist to seek a fresh stamp from a foreign mint. She 
 was also encouraged by Macready to make the trip. 
 He foresaw the success in waiting for her there, where 
 all the traditions of her art were cradled. This was 
 her only influence outside of her own breast. But she 
 had a friend in that indomitable will which never 
 counseled wrongly or rashly. Poor and unknown she 
 arrived in the great city of London, where she had 
 come to claim a place among her kindred in her art. 
 Since the death of Siddons and O'Neil, no such tragic 
 actress had challenged attention or filled the places of 
 those regal heroines. Ellen Tree had abandoned 
 tragedy to assist in the advancement of her husband's 
 fame, and Mrs. Warner had only a partial claim to 
 greatness. The debt which the new land had con- 
 tracted when the mother country gave to her a Cooke, 
 a Vandenhoff, and all those great actors of the begin- 
 ning of the century, was about to be repaid in the 
 
Cljarlotte Cu^ftman* 19 
 
 person of our first great actress of native growth. The 
 attempt was hazardous, failure almost inevitable ; the 
 reward of success, the throne of the tragic muse where 
 Siddons had sat. The spirit of Charlotte Cushman 
 rose to the height of her position, and she chose wisely 
 the modest plan of opening in a support to Mr. Forrest, 
 then about to begin his second engagement in London. 
 She stood by him when he breasted the storm of abuse 
 which the friends of Macready had prepared, and 
 before which he was forced to bow. The reception 
 overwhelmed him, and he gave up his engagement 
 abruptly, leaving the opportunity to Charlotte Cushman 
 of a distinct engagement, which she instantly seized 
 upon, appearing as Biatica in " Fazio," and achieving 
 an immediate success. The house was crowded. 
 Fashion jostled against democracy for places, and the 
 wit and the critic, the beauty and the fop, the old play- 
 goer and the new, the lover of Macready and his enemy, 
 were mingled in that vast throng upon whose decision 
 hung the fate of Charlotte Cushman. Only those who 
 have realized it can conceive the heart sickness, the 
 fearful hope, the hunger of the soul, on such occasions 
 as this. All the study of a life has led up to this one 
 night ; all the supports of the future rest upon it. In 
 distant homes dependent hearts are beating with anx- 
 iety and fear, for their fate also hangs upon this 
 chance; and one can feel how great was the ordeal 
 when, with his last kiss to his wife before making his 
 first appearance in London, Edmund Kean exclaimed, 
 " Mary, if I succeed to-night I shall go mad." These 
 are the worldly stakes, while the higher aspirations for 
 
20 Cfjarlotte Cu^ljnian* 
 
 power as a means of good, for place as a step from 
 which a great art may be still further advanced, animate 
 the courage and, the first thrill of fear over, sustain the 
 sinking heart. 
 
 The journals of the time and Hving witnesses have 
 declared that the vast audience was thrilled by the 
 acting of Miss Cushman. She had reached the sum- 
 mit of her hopes. The accepted head of her profes- 
 sion in both countries, she could now enjoy the fruits 
 of her years of labor. She played a round of her 
 great characters, and for many weeks filled the theater 
 with Lady Macbeth, Romeo, Katharine, and Meg Mer- 
 rilies. In the latter play she found a character which 
 will forever be associated with her name. Out of a 
 sketch she created a rounded, complete picture, and 
 one which she never ceased touching and embellish- 
 ing to the end of her life. Glancing hastily over the 
 remainder of her career, she is found, on her return 
 to her own country, playing remarkably successful 
 engagements and amassing a rapid fortune, which she 
 showed much wisdom in investing. To the last her 
 qualities never failed her. Her performances always 
 partook of the best that was in the woman herself. 
 She never spared herself, or slighted her work, and 
 she died almost in harness, preparing new work, new 
 plans, which she was destined never to fulfill. 
 
 It was my own good fortune to have taken part in 
 many of her great, as well as in some of her unique, 
 performances. I was in the cast when she first 
 essayed the part of Cardinal Wolsey, in which she 
 copied faithfully the style of Macready — a very 
 
Cljariotte CuiB^tjman* 21 
 
 remarkable achievement for a woman. When she 
 played Hamlet afterward in Boston I was also in the 
 cast. She gave a novel color to that complex charac- 
 ter, and, as she wore that night the borrowed mantle 
 of my great colleague, and the now recognized world 
 representative of the melancholy Dane, she may be 
 said to have been the first of that long line of dispu- 
 tants for a robe which you and I and all lovers of the 
 art will fervently hope may remain upon its present 
 shoulders for many years yet to come. It is not my 
 purpose to dwell in detail upon her performances. It 
 is not in the power of the narrator to call up to the 
 listener's mind the perfect portrait, instinct with life, 
 which the artist paints. The spirit of that likeness 
 departs when the beating heart is stilled, and " newer 
 gauds entrance the fresher mind." 
 
 I set down the public career of Charlotte Cush- 
 man hastily and without detail or elaboration, and her 
 work may now be briefly summed up. She came 
 from a life of seclusion and retirement into an active 
 and engrossing profession. Her antecedents were 
 not of the stage ; she had no influence to push her 
 fortunes save those which God had given her. She 
 became an actress at a time when it was necessary to 
 do something more than carry expensive costumes 
 upon an attractive body, and wander through a play 
 the subject only of the lorgnette and the eyeglass. She 
 found her place at once. The vigor of her intellect, 
 the true, earnest nature of the woman, fitted well into 
 an art which demands study as the price of its match- 
 less rewards; and she grasped all the possibiHties 
 
22 Cljariotte Cu^B^l^man. 
 
 before her with a steadfast hand, never shrinking from 
 duty, never looking back from the plow. She left 
 the stage better than she found it, though not so 
 thickly settled by workers Uke herself. In an age 
 when temptations to wealth were many as the reward 
 of degrading her art, she preserved her fame pure and 
 unstained. Her influence upon the time has been felt 
 in the better taste which is apparent to all who study 
 the drama's history, in the respectful attention which 
 is paid to the illustration of the great dramatic 
 authors, and in a more exalted sphere of usefulness 
 which her example presented to her fellows. She 
 passed from the stage to the platform, and scholars 
 delighted to listen to the tones of that voice which 
 had gladdened them on the stage, now weakened by 
 age, indeed, but still mellow and expressive. She left 
 the stage a memory which it can never aflbrd to part 
 with, and the name of Charlotte Cushman will rank 
 always with the great women of the past — a pride 
 and an incentive. 
 
 Her domestic life was passed in an atmosphere of 
 usefulness and affection. She was the support and 
 joy of her family as well as its pride. Giving up all 
 prospect of married happiness at an early age, she 
 became the staff and support, the head of an adopted 
 race, upon which she lavished a mother's tenderness. 
 She lived for many years in Rome, where her cottage 
 became proverbial for open-handed hospitaHty to all 
 her countrymen, and the Mecca of all artists. Here 
 the gentle nature which never left her shone out in an 
 undisturbed flow of happiness to all studying art at 
 
the fountain-head of inspiration. Among the ruins of 
 that great city she found her recreation in deeds of 
 mercy and kindness. Her name became a household 
 word with all travelers from her own country; and 
 when the disease which at last carried her off was first 
 discovered, the sympathy which was extended to her 
 from all degrees of people testified to her fame and 
 influence. To those who were permitted to know her 
 well, there was a sweetness, a gentleness, a soft woman- 
 liness about her which the world never suspected, which 
 judged her only by her public performances. 
 
 She had learned much from books, but more from 
 men, and she possessed a remarkable facility of expres- 
 sion by which her knowledge became available. She 
 was well informed on all public matters, and invariably 
 felt a deep interest in the prosperity of her country. 
 She had that unusual readiness of speech and repose 
 of thought which enabled her upon meeting a friend or 
 acquaintance to begin the conversation appropriately, 
 govern its progress easily, and close it without leaving 
 anything unsaid which she would wish to have spoken. 
 She suffered acutely for years from a disease which 
 required constant nursing, and she exhibited patience 
 and fortitude in carrying her sorrow. She was supported 
 for years by the companionship of a friend who sur- 
 vived her, and whose devotion is a testimony to the 
 winning and attractive character of her lost friend. 
 She amassed a considerable fortune, which she be- 
 queathed to the children of her adopted son, making 
 at the same time thoughtful provision for other loved 
 ones. Losses of property and shrinkages in values 
 
24 Cljariotte Cu^tjmait 
 
 made her more saving as age came on, but she never 
 deserved the name of miser. With an open hand for 
 all cases of true charity, she had the sense and the 
 courage to discriminate between the deserving and the 
 undeserving. Her companions were always of her 
 own high standard. She ranked among her intimate 
 friends the highest and noblest in the land, and thus 
 lifted her profession into its proper atmosphere. She 
 was a Christian woman and devoutly believed in a 
 future reward. The quiet and uneventful character 
 of her domestic history is its highest praise. The disease 
 against whose advances she had struggled for years at 
 length conquered her. From her native city, whence 
 so many years before she had gone out into life to do 
 battle and to conquer, and to which she had in her 
 years of usefulness and honor brought back fame which 
 is nobly embalmed in a temple of learning bearing her 
 name, she went out into that other life which is the 
 recompense of this, laid down the burden of her 
 cares, and, surrounded by her loving friends and the 
 tearful respect of a whole nation, passed on to her 
 reward. 
 
APPENDIX 
 
% %ma. 27 
 
 389 State Street, Bridgeport, Conn., 
 December 31, 1888. 
 
 To the Secretary of The Dunlap Society. 
 
 My dear Sir : In compliance with your request, I 
 veiy cheerfully send as full a list of characters per- 
 formed by Miss Cushman as I have been able to make 
 out. 
 
 On the 4th, 5th, and 6th pages of the papers sent 
 are the dates of Miss C.'s first performance in New- 
 York of the characters appended, and I would particu- 
 larly call your attention to her representation of Meg 
 Merrilies on the 15th of May, 1837, and Jan. 25th, 
 1839 — disproving the oft-repeated story of her first 
 undertaking it to oblige Mr. Braham, who did not play 
 in New York until December, 1840, and did not appear 
 in " Guy Mannering " during his entire engagement. 
 
 I desired to run through Miss C.'s performances as 
 entered in my diary until I reached Lady Gay Spanker, 
 which I think was really her first great popular success 
 in New York. Her wonderful performance of Nancy 
 Sykes did not draw one single full house, as you may 
 notice at February 7th and June 25th, 1839, ^^^ ^^^o 
 on her benefit night, February 15th, 1840. Miss Cush- 
 man was very lightly esteemed by the Park audience 
 until after being patronized by Mr. Macready. The 
 receipts mentioned are taken from the original cash 
 book of the old Park Theater. 
 
 I remain, truly yours, 
 
 Jos. N. Ireland. 
 
A LIST OF CHARACTERS 
 
 PERFORMED BY MISS CHARLOTTE CUSHMAN. 
 
 Agnes Walder the Avenger, 
 
 Aladdin Aladdin. 
 
 Aldabella Fazio. 
 
 Alicia Ja7ie Shore. 
 
 Alithea Country Girl. 
 
 Angiolina Marino Faliero. 
 
 Augusta The Ba7iker's Wife. 
 
 Beatrice Much Ado About Nothing. 
 
 Belvidera Venice Preserved. 
 
 Bertha Point of Ho7ior. 
 
 Betty Clandestine Marriage. 
 
 BiANCA Fazio. 
 
 Cardinal Wolsey Henry VIII. 
 
 Count Belino The DeviPs Bridge. 
 
 Countess Love. 
 
 Countess de Morville Therese. 
 
 Countess de Novara , , , . A Peculiar Position. 
 
 Countess Wintersen The Stranger. 
 
 Carlos Velasco. 
 
 Caspar Hauser Caspar Hauser. 
 
 Catharine St. Patrick's Eve. 
 
 Catharine Catharine b' Petruchio. 
 
 29 
 
30 % aii0?t of (i^atatttt$. 
 
 Cecilia Rural Felicity. 
 
 Celestine Father and Son, 
 
 Charlotte Rusport The West Indian. 
 
 Cherubino Marriage of Figaro. 
 
 Cicely Homespun Heir at Law. 
 
 Clara Matrimony. 
 
 Clarinda Suspicious Husband. 
 
 Claude Melnotte Lady of Lyons. 
 
 Clorinda Fobin Hood. 
 
 Constance Love Chase. 
 
 Cordelia King Lear. 
 
 Duchess de Torrenuevada, 
 
 Faint Heart Never Won Fair Lady. 
 
 Desdemona Othello. 
 
 Dinah Primrose ^oung Quaker. 
 
 Dorothy No Song, No Supper. 
 
 Empress Love. 
 
 Eliza Dumb Belle. 
 
 Ellen Rivers Patrician d^ Parvenu. 
 
 Elspy Captain Kyd. 
 
 Elvira Pizarro. 
 
 Emilia Othello. 
 
 Emily Wardle IHckwick Club. 
 
 Emily Worthington Poor Gentleman. 
 
 Emma William Tell. 
 
 Ernestine Loan of a Lover. 
 
 Ernestine Our Mary Anne. 
 
 Estifania Rule a Wife a?id Have a Wife. 
 
 EuDiGA Charles XII. 
 
 Eugenia Free and Easy. 
 
 Eustace Woman^s Wit. 
 
Euphrasia Siege of Rochelle. 
 
 EvADNE The Bridal. 
 
 Fanny Squeers Nicholas Nickleby . 
 
 Florabel The Wife. 
 
 Florinda The Apostate. 
 
 Francine Grist to the Mill. 
 
 Gabrielle Tom Noddy's Secret. 
 
 GoNERiL King Lear. 
 
 Gwynneth Vaughn The Village Coquette. 
 
 Hamlet Hamlet. 
 
 Harriet Is He Jealous. 
 
 Harriet Forest Rose. 
 
 Helen Hunchback. 
 
 Helen de Rosalvi Hunter of the Alps. 
 
 Helen McGregor Rob Roy. 
 
 Helen Worrett Man and Wifi. 
 
 Hermione Damon and Pythias. 
 
 Hero Woman's Wit. 
 
 Hypolita She Would b" She Would Not. 
 
 Ion Ion. 
 
 Isabelle Isabelle; or^ Woman's Life. 
 
 Isabella Revenge. 
 
 Jane Tom and Jerry. 
 
 Jane Shore Jane Shore. 
 
 Janet Pride Jatiet Pride. 
 
 Jeanie Deans Heart of Mid-Lothian. 
 
 Joan of Arc The Maid of Orleans. 
 
 Josephine Werner. 
 
 Julia The Rivals. 
 
 Julia The Hunchback. 
 
 Juliana Honeymoon. 
 
32 % %i$t of Cftaractet^. 
 
 Julie Rival Pages. 
 
 Julie de Mortemar Richelieu. 
 
 John Rolf Pocahontas. 
 
 Kate Morton My Sister Kate. 
 
 Kitty Ways and Means. 
 
 Lady Amaranth Wild Oats. 
 
 Lady Arundel The Sea Captain. 
 
 Lady Blanche Old Maids, 
 
 Lady Constance Kifig John. 
 
 Lady Elinor Irwin . . Every One Has His Fault. 
 
 Lady Gay Spanker London Assuraftce. 
 
 Lady Grace Provoked Husband. 
 
 Lady Clifton A Lesson of the Heart. 
 
 Lady Macbeth Macbeth. 
 
 Lady Percy Henry IV. 
 
 Lady Randolph Douglas, 
 
 Lady Teazle School for Scandal. ^ 
 
 Lady Townly Provoked Husband. 
 
 Lady Wm. Daventry The West End. 
 
 Laura The Genoese. 
 
 Louise Jacques Stropp. 
 
 Louise Village Doctor. 
 
 Lydia Agnes de Vere. 
 
 Lydia Languish The Rivals. 
 
 Marchioness Child of Nature. 
 
 Marchioness de Vermont .... Ladder of Love. 
 
 Madame Bravura Pet of the Petticoats. 
 
 Madame Roselheim .... Maid of Mariendorpt. 
 
 Mrs. Beverly The Gamester. 
 
 Mrs. Brown Kill or Cure. 
 
 Mrs. Ford Merry Wives of Windsor. 
 
% %i$t of C^rattcr^* 33 
 
 Mrs. Glenroy Town and Country. 
 
 Mrs. Haller The Stranger. 
 
 Mrs. Lynx Married Life. 
 
 Mrs. Oakley Jealous Wife. 
 
 Mrs. Page Merry Wives of Windsor. 
 
 Mrs. Pemberton My Sister Kate. 
 
 Mrs. Simpson Simpson ^ Co. 
 
 Mrs. Snapley Dancing Barber. 
 
 Mrs. Somerton My Neighbor's Wife. 
 
 Mrs. Sullen Beaux' Stratagein. 
 
 Mrs. Trictrac Married Rake. 
 
 Miss Blandford Speed the Plough. 
 
 Magdalene White Horse of the Peppers. 
 
 Margaret King and Freebooter. 
 
 Mariana The Wife. 
 
 Marian Mayley .... What Will the World Say. 
 
 Maria Grazie The Brigand. 
 
 Mary Tom Noddy's Secret. 
 
 Mary Stuart Mary Stuart. 
 
 Mary Wilson Strange Gentleman. 
 
 Meg Merrilies Guy Mannering. 
 
 MiMi Pet of the Petticoats. 
 
 Millwood George Barnwell. 
 
 Montaldo The Genoese. 
 
 Nahmeokee Metamora. 
 
 The Naiad Queen Naiad Queen. 
 
 Nancy Sykes Oliver Twist. 
 
 Nina Carnival at Naples. 
 
 Nina Sforza Nina Sforza. 
 
 Oberon Midsummer Night's Dream. 
 
 Prince Alfonso Masaniello. 
 
 5 
 
34 % 3lii0?t of Ctjatactet^- 
 
 Princess Elvira Masafiiello. 
 
 Patrick The Poor Soldier. 
 
 Paul Pet of the Petticoats. 
 
 Pauline Lady of Lyons, 
 
 Peter Wilkins Peter Wilkins. 
 
 Portia Merchant of Venice. 
 
 Priestess Brutus. 
 
 Queen Christine of Sweden . . . Tivo Queens. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth Richard LLI. 
 
 Queen Gertrude Hamlet. 
 
 Queen Katharine Henry VLLI. 
 
 Rachel Heywood Pent Day. 
 
 Ravina Miller and His Men. 
 
 Romeo Romeo b' Juliet. 
 
 Rosalind As You Like It. 
 
 Rosamond . Borrowed Feathers. 
 
 Rose Sidney Secrets Worth Knowing. 
 
 Saga Last Days of PoiJipeii. 
 
 Sarah Snare Single Life. 
 
 Semiramis Semiramis. 
 
 Senona '. . Gladiator. 
 
 Servia Virginius. 
 
 Smike Nicholas Nickleby. 
 
 Sue Tom a?id Jerry. 
 
 Thalaba Thalaba the Destroyer. 
 
 Theodore Lafitte. 
 
 Therese Therese. 
 
 Theresa Maid of Croissy. 
 
 La Tisbe Actress of Padua. 
 
 Tom Tug The Waterman. 
 
 Tullia Brutus. 
 
31 %m of Cljaractct^, 3s 
 
 Ursula Rienzi. 
 
 Vettoria Knight of the Golden Fleece. 
 
 Victoria Bold Stroke for a Husband. 
 
 Viola Tzvelfth Night. 
 
 ViOLANTE The Wonder. 
 
 VoLANTE Honey Moon. 
 
 VoLUMNiA Coriolanus. 
 
 Widow Cheerly Soldier's Daughter. 
 
 Widow Melnotte Lady of Lyons. 
 
 Zamine Cataract of the Ganges. 
 
 Zuliema Abon Hassan. 
 
 Zuzu Zazezizozu. 
 
 The foregoing list is from my own diary of Miss Cushman's 
 performances in New York. 
 
 The following characters are from printed works, biographical 
 or otherwise : 
 
 In April, 1835, at the Tremont Theater, Boston, Miss Cush- 
 manmade her d^but as the Countess A lmaviva,m the " Marriage 
 of Figaro," and soon after personated Lucy Bertram, in " Guy 
 Mannering." I find no exact date of her first playing Lady Mac- 
 beth, at the St. Charles Theater, New Orleans. 
 
 On the loth of October, 1836, according to Phelps's "Players 
 of a Century," Miss Cushman made her first appearance in 
 Albany as Lady Macbeth to Booth's Macbeth. She subsequently 
 played there, according to the same book, the following charac- 
 ters, viz. : 
 
 Count Belino Devil's Bridge. 
 
 Helen McGregor Rob Roy. 
 
 Alicia Ja7te Shore. 
 
 Henry Speed the Plough. 
 
 Floranthe Mountaineers., 
 
36 % Jti^t Of Cljaracter^^ 
 
 Mrs. Haller Stranger. 
 
 Mrs. Lynx Married Life. 
 
 Joan OF Arc Maid of Orleans. 
 
 Margaret of Burgundy Tower of Nesle. 
 
 Jack Horner Greville Cross. 
 
 Louise Norman Leslie. 
 
 Emilia Othello. 
 
 Alvedson (?) Two Galley Slaves. 
 
 George Fairman The Liberty Tree. 
 
 Lucy Clifton The Fiend of Eddy stone. 
 
 Henry Germain Gambler's Fate. 
 
 Portia Merchant of Venice. 
 
 Julia Hunchback. 
 
 TuLLiA Brutus. 
 
 ZoRiLDA Timour the Tartar. 
 
 Belvidera Venice Preserved. 
 
 Roxana Alexander the Great. 
 
 Romeo Romeo ^ Juliet. 
 
CHRONOLOGICAL LIST 
 
 OF MISS CUSH man's EARLIER PERFORMANCES 
 IN NEW YORK. 
 
 AT BOWERY THEATER. 
 1836. 
 Sept. 12. — As Lady Macbeth .... 
 " 13. — Helen McGregor .... 
 
 " 17. — Alicia Jane Shore. 
 
 Patrick Poor Soldier. 
 
 AT NATIONAL THEATER 
 (afterwards Wallack's) — under Mr. Hackett's management. 
 
 1837. 
 
 April 21. — Romeo Romeo b' Juliet. 
 
 " 26. — Patrick Poor Soldier. 
 
 " 27. — Count Belino & Tom Tug, 
 
 DeviVs Bridge and Waterman. 
 
 May 8. — Lady Macbeth Macbeth. 
 
 " 9. — Elvira Pizarro. 
 
 *' 12. — Queen Gertrude Hamlet. 
 
 " 15. — Meg Merrilies, to Plumer's Henry Ber- 
 tram, Miss Watson's Julia Mannering, 
 and Mrs. Watson's Lucy Bertram. 
 
 37 
 
38 €l)tonoIogical %i$t 
 
 1837. 
 
 May 1 6. — Helen McGregor Rob Roy. 
 
 " 18. — Alicia Jane Shore. 
 
 " 23. — TuLLiA Brutus. 
 
 AT THE PARK THEATER, NEW YORK. 
 
 Aug. 26. — Patrick (her first night) . The Poor Soldier. 
 
 " 28. — Mrs. Trictrac Married Rake. 
 
 " 31. — Countess de Novara . Peculiar Position. 
 
 Sept. 2. — Caspar Hauser .... Caspar Hauser. 
 
 Harriet Forest Rose. 
 
 " 3. — Vettoria . . Kf light of the Golden Fleece. 
 
 " 7. — Charlotte The Hypocrite. 
 
 " 12. — Cherubino . . . . Marriage of Figaro. 
 Dorothy No Song^ No Supper. 
 
 " 15. — Mary Wilson . . . Strange Gentleman. 
 
 " 19. — GoNERiL King Lear. 
 
 Oct. 3. — Priestess Brutus. 
 
 " 9. — Servia , Virginius. 
 
 " 13. — Queen Gertrude Hamlet. 
 
 Countess Therese. 
 
 " 14.— -Paul The Pet of the Petticoats. 
 
 " 27. — Alicia Jane Shore. 
 
 Nov. 7. — Christine of Sweden . . Two Queens. 
 
 " 11.^ Julie Rival Pages. 
 
 " 18. — Laura The Genoese. 
 
 " 25. — EuDiGA Charles XJJ. 
 
 " 27. — Kitty Ways and Means. 
 
Ctjtonological Ei^t 
 
 39 
 
 1837- 
 
 Dec. II. — Mrs. Lynx Married Life. 
 
 12. — Mrs. Somerton . . My Neighbor's Wife. 
 
 14. — Sue Tom and Jerry. 
 
 16. — Helen Hunchback. 
 
 18. — Emilia Othello. 
 
 20. — Prince Alfonso Masaniello. 
 
 21. — Lady Macbeth Macbeth. 
 
 22. — Senona Gladiator. 
 
 25. — Hermione Damon b' Pythias. 
 
 26. — Nahmeokee Metamora. 
 
 29. — Emma William Tell. 
 
 30. — Aladdin Aladdin. 
 
 1838. 
 Jan. 3. — TuLLiA Brutus. 
 
 " 8. — Queen Elizabeth .... Richard III. 
 
 " II. — VoLUMNiA Coriolanus. 
 
 " 20. — Constance Love Chase. 
 
 Feb. I. — Ellen Rivers . .Patrician d^ Parvenu. 
 ZuLiEMA Abon Hassan. 
 
 " 8. — John Rolf Pocahontas. 
 
 " 13. — Helen McGregor Rob Roy. 
 
 " 15. — ^Zuzu Zazezizozu. 
 
 Mar. I. — Zamine Cataract of the Ganges. 
 
 " 9. — Lydia . Agnes de Vere. 
 
 " 15. — Emily Wardle Sam Weller. 
 
 Apl. 9. — EuPHEMiA Siege of Rochelle. 
 
 May 14. — Widow Melnotte . . . Lady of Lyons. 
 
40 
 
 CJicondogical %i$t 
 
 1838. 
 
 June 
 
 9' 
 
 (( 
 
 I3-- 
 
 (( 
 
 28.- 
 
 « 
 
 30-- 
 
 Aug. 
 
 23- 
 
 u 
 
 27.- 
 
 Sept. 
 
 I7-- 
 
 Oct. 
 
 3-- 
 
 « 
 
 9-- 
 
 (( 
 
 12.- 
 
 a 
 
 I7-- 
 
 n 
 
 22.- 
 
 n 
 
 29.- 
 
 Nov. 
 
 5-- 
 
 tc 
 
 17- 
 
 a 
 
 26.- 
 
 Dec. 
 
 7'- 
 
 (( 
 
 14. 
 
 (( 
 
 20.- 
 
 « 
 
 25- 
 
 a 
 
 28. 
 
 — Lady Amaranth Wi/d Oafs. 
 
 — Lady Teazle .... School /or Scandal. 
 
 — Claude Melnotte . . . Lady of Lyons. 
 
 — Betty Clandestine Marriage. 
 
 Cecilia Rural Felicity. 
 
 — Hero Woman's Wit. 
 
 — Lady Emily Irish Ambassador. 
 
 — Ernestine Loan of a Lover. 
 
 Florabel The Wife. 
 
 Helena Hunter of the Alps. 
 
 — Eustace Woman's Wit. 
 
 — Mrs. Glenroy . . . Town and Country . 
 Magdalene . White Horse of the Peppers. 
 
 — Marchioness Ladder of Love. 
 
 — Eugenia Free and Easy. 
 
 ( Gossamer Gadfly .... The Brothers. 
 
 \ Edwin Vere Gadfly . . " " 
 
 - Lady Percy Henry IV. 
 
 — Mrs. Ford . . Merry Wives of Windsor. 
 Mary Tom Noddy's Secret. 
 
 — Carlos Velasco. 
 
 — Millwood George Barnwell. 
 
 — Mme. Rosalheim . Maid of Mariendorpt. 
 
 1839. 
 
 Jan. 7. — Romeo Romeo b' Juliet. 
 
 Portia Merchant of Venice. 
 
 " 8. — Jeanie Deans . . Heart of Mid-Lothian. 
 
€I)ronoIo0icaI tti^t 41 
 
 1839. 
 
 Jan. 17. — Maria Grazie Btigand. 
 
 " 25. — Guy Mannering — 
 
 Col. Mannering Mr. Brough. 
 
 Henry Bertram Mr, Jones. 
 
 Dominie Sampson Mr. Chippendale. 
 
 DiRCK Hatteraich Mr. Richings. 
 
 Dandie Dinmont Mr. Placide. 
 
 Gabriel Mr. Morley. 
 
 Julia Mannering Mrs. Bailey. 
 
 Lucy Bertram Mrs. Richardson. 
 
 Mrs. McCandlish Mrs. Wheatley. 
 
 Meg Merrilies MISS CUSHMAN. 
 
 " 25. — Celestine Father and Son. 
 
 Feb. I. — Elvira Pizarro. 
 
 Fanny Squeers . . . Nicholas Nickleby . 
 
 ** 7. — Nancy Sykes Oliver Twist. 
 
 And Fanny Squeers — to $250.50. 
 
 Same bill 2d performance . 
 
 . . $190.25 
 
 " 3d 
 
 (( 
 
 . . 207.25 
 
 " 4th 
 
 it 
 
 . . 181.75 
 
 " " 5th 
 
 « 
 
 . . 160.25 
 
 " " 6th 
 
 u 
 
 . . 209.50 
 
 Feb. 21. — Mrs. Mortimer . Laugh When You Can. 
 
 " 25.— Ursula Rienzi. 
 
 " 27. — Mrs. Snarly Dancing Barber. 
 
 Mar. 7. — Margaret King <5r* Freebooter. 
 
 " II. — Peter Wilkins Peter Wilkins. 
 
 " 18. — Theodore Lafitte. 
 
 " 25. — Saga Last Days of Pompeii. 
 
42 €l)tDno!D5icaI Hi^. 
 
 1839. 
 
 Apl. 2. — Mrs. Mizzleminx . . . Mr. Greenfinch. 
 
 "• 3. — Clorinda Robin Hood, 
 
 June 8. — MoNTALDO The Genoese, 
 
 " 25. — Oliver Twist (14th time), Nicholas 
 NiCKLEBY (24th time), to $151.25. 
 
 July 23. — Elspy Capt, Kyd. 
 
 Aug. 3. — Joan of Arc Maid of Orleans, 
 
 " 6. — Julia My Sister Kate, 
 
 " 9. — Julia Rivals. 
 
 " 24. — Patrician & Parvenu and Oliver Twist, 
 with Miss Cushman in both pieces, to 
 $100! 
 
 " 28. — Aldabella Fazio, 
 
 Oct. II. — Rosamond Borrowed Feathers. 
 
 " 14. — Alithea Country Girl. 
 
 " 21. — Sarah Snare Single Life. 
 
 " 22. — Madame Bravura . Pet of the Petticoats. 
 
 Kitty Ways b' Means. 
 
 " 30. — Louise Village Doctor. 
 
 Eliza Dumb Belle. 
 
 Nov. 18. — Emily Worthington . Poor Gentleman. 
 Dec. 25. — Jane Tom b* Jerry. 
 
 1840. 
 Jan. 17. — Empress Love. 
 
 <•<■ 28. — Isabella Revenge. 
 
 '< 29.— Mrs. Beverley Gamester. 
 
 Feb. 10. — Mrs. Malfort . . . Soldier's Daughter, 
 
€l)tonologicaI Hi^eft 43 
 
 1840. 
 
 Feb. 15, — Lady Teazle & Nancy Sykes, for Miss 
 Cushman's benefit — to $152.25. 
 
 " 19. — Beatrice Much Ado ^ etc. 
 
 Mar. 17. — Lady Grace .... Provoked Husband. 
 
 " 23. — Mary Stuart Mary Stuart. 
 
 Apl. 28. — Pauline Lady of Lyons. 
 
 May 4. — Victoria . . Bold Stroke for a Husband. 
 
 1841. 
 Aug. 30. — Oberon . . , Midsummer NighVs Dream. 
 
 Sept. I. — Therese MaidofCroissy. 
 
 " II.— Mrs. Sullen Belle's Stratagem. 
 
 " 14. — EsTiFANiA . Rule a Wife^afid Have a Wife. 
 
 " 20. — Mrs. Page Merry Wives. 
 
 " 21. — Marchioness Child of Nature. 
 
 " 30. — Lydia Languish Rivals. 
 
 Oct. I. — Ravina Miller b" His Men. 
 
 " II. — Lady Gay Spanker . London Assurance. 
 
 Sir Harcourt Courtly Mr. Placide. 
 
 Charles Courtly Mr. Wheatley. 
 
 Max Harkaway Mr. John Fisher. 
 
 Spanker Mr. W. H. Williams. 
 
 Dazzle Mr. J. S. Browne. 
 
 Mark Meddle Mr. Latham. 
 
 Cool Mr. A. Andrews. 
 
 Isaacs Mr. Galhtt. 
 
 Martin Mr. Denison. 
 
 Lady Gay Spanker Miss Cushman. 
 
 Grace Harkaway Miss Clarendon. 
 
 Pert Mrs. Vernon. 
 
44 Ctjronofagical %igt 
 
 RECEIPTS TO LONDON ASSURANCE. 
 1841. 
 
 Oct. 11 $600.75 
 
 12 603.50 
 
 13 611.75 
 
 14 665.75 
 
 15 734.50 
 
 16 680.50 
 
 18 848.00 
 
 19 786.50 
 
 20 687.00 
 
 21 751-25 
 
 22 677.75 
 
 23 418.50 
 
 25 616.50 
 
 26 519-50 
 
 27 696.00 
 
 28 696.75 
 
 29 709-75 
 
 30 . . 356.75 
 
 Nov. I (Mr. Simpson as Dazzle) . 439.50 
 
 3 437.25 
 
i"^ SO! 
 
 9 
 
i>h 
 

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 (P6572s10)476-:a.32 
 
 rr«; ^^".^'■3' library 
 JJmversity of CaiffL •