my three years' contract ending in
smoke." Grievously distressed, but not disheartened, with her family
dependent upon her exertions, she accepted an engagement at the
principal theatre in Albany, where she remained five months, acting
all the leading characters. In September, 1837, she entered into an
engagement, which endured for three years, with the manager of the
Park Theatre, New York. She was required to fulfil the duties of
"walking lady" and "general utility" at a salary of twenty dollars a
week.
During this period of her career she performed very many characters,
and toiled assiduously at her profession. It was then the custom to
afford the public a great variety of performances, to change the plays
nightly, and to present two and sometimes three plays upon the same
evening. The actors were forever busy studying new parts, and, when
they were not performing, they were rehearsing. "It was a time of hard
work," writes Miss Stebbins, "of ceaseless activity, and of hard-won
and scantily accorded appreciation." Miss Cushman had no choice of
parts; she was not the chief actress of the company; she sustained
without question all the characters the management assigned to her.
Her appearance as Meg Merrilies (she acquired subsequently great favor
by her performance of this character) was due to an incident--the
illness of Mrs. Chippendale, the actress who usually supported the
part. It was in the year 1840; the veteran Braham was to appear as
Henry Bertram. A Meg Merrilies had to be improvised. The obscure
"utility" actress was called upon to take Mrs. Chippendale's place.
She might read the part if she could not commit it to memory but
personate Meg Merrilies after some sort she must. She had never
especially noticed the part; but as she stood at the side scene, book
in hand, awaiting her moment of entrance, her ear caught the dialogue
going on upon the stage between two of the gypsies, "conveying the
impression that Meg was no longer to be feared or respected--that she
was no longer in her right mind." This furnished her with a clew to
the character, and led her to present it upon the stage as the weird
and startling figure which afterward became so famous. Of course, the
first performance was but a sketch of her later portrayals of Meg
Merrilies, yet she made a profound impression. "I had not thought that
I had done anything remarkable," she wrote, "and when a knock came at
my dressing-room door, and I heard Braha
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