it!--a loud voice. Coriolanus, Spartacus, Virginius--those were his
roles, and no man ever looked more imposing in a Roman toga.

Forrest, during his English engagement of 1845, and on other occasions,
shared the honors with a remarkable actress, Charlotte Cushman. And
perhaps none ever had a more astonishing career. Born in Boston in 1816,
her youth was one of poverty, for her father died while she was very
young, leaving no property. The girl was remarkably bright, and soon
developed a contralto voice of unusual richness and compass. She sang in
a choir and assisted to support the family from the age of twelve,
securing such musical instruction as she could. In 1834, she made her
first appearance in opera and scored a tremendous success. A splendid
career seemed opening before her, when suddenly, a few months later, her
voice, strained by the soprano parts which had been, assigned her,
failed completely.

Her friends advised her to become an actress, and she went diligently to
work, not allowing herself to despond over that first great
disappointment. For the next seven years, she worked faithfully learning
the new profession from the very bottom. "I became aware," she said,
"that one could never sail a ship by entering at the cabin windows; he
must serve and learn his trade before the mast." In that way she learned
hers, playing minor parts, doing cheerfully the drudgery of her
profession, refusing all offers for more important work until she felt
herself thoroughly capable of undertaking it. One would wish that her
example might be taken to heart by her sisters of the present day.

At last her chance came. In 1842, William C. Macready, the great English
tragedian, visited the United States, and in Charlotte Cushman he found
a splendid support. Indeed, she divided the honors with him. A year
later, she went to London and won immense applause. "Since the first
appearance of Edmund Keane, in 1814," said a London journal, in speaking
of her first night as "Bianca," "never has there been such a debut on
the stage of an English theatre." For eighty-four nights she appeared
with Edwin Forrest. "All my successes put together," she wrote to her
mother, "would not come near my success in London."

In the winter of 1845 she tried one of the most daring experiments ever
made by an actress, appearing as Romeo to her sister, Susan Cushman's,
Juliet. It was a notable success. Her deep contralto voice made it
possible for her