stage at Niblo's
Theatre, N. Y., on the 3d of June, 1854. On the 7th of that month she
became the wife of W. F. Ritchie. Mrs. Ritchie died in Paris a few
years since, where she was much regretted by the social circle of
which she was the admired star.
In 1852, at the National Theatre, which was situated on Portland
Street, Charlotte Cushman commenced her farewell to the stage in the
tragedy of "Romeo and Juliet." Charlotte Cushman was now at the summit
of her art. She was universally allowed to be the greatest tragedienne
of the day. And this recognition was due to her fine genius. She owed
nothing to artifice or meretricious attraction. Nothing was left to
chance, for the indomitable spirit and zealousness with which she had
sustained herself under adverse circumstances had done not a little to
elevate her in the regard of her countrymen and admirers. This was the
first of a series of "farewell engagements," inaugurated by Miss
Cushman, and continued to her real and positive farewell in 1875.
I have always had an objection to ladies personating Romeo, but I
waived that feeling in favor of Miss Cushman. Her personation of Romeo
was beautiful and even pathetic. The passionate grief of young
Montague in the third act was subdued by a tearful pathos. Nothing
could surpass her reading of the character: it was a triumph, and in a
word it would be difficult to conceive anything more grand than this
impersonation. It is difficult to conceive a character more highly
dramatic or more impassioned than that of Lady Macbeth. The conflicts,
emotions, and power of the ambitious queen were portrayed with a
truth, a grandeur of effect, unequalled since by any actress. Miss
Cushman's impersonation of Meg Merriles was one of the finest
illustrations of originality the stage ever witnessed. There was no
effort to resemble the character. She entered the stage the character
itself, transposed into the situation, excited by hope and fear,
breathing the life and the spirit of the being she represented. In my
opinion, when Charlotte Cushman died, so did Meg Merriles, and it will
be many a day before the old gipsy queen will produce that
indescribable effect upon an audience, as in the days of Cushman. At
the Boston Theatre, June 2, 1858, Miss Cushman as Romeo, her farewell
to the stage. At the same theatre, in 1860, another farewell, Miss
Cushman as Romeo, who with the aid of Mrs. Barrow as Juliet, John
Gilbert as Friar Laurence, and Mrs.
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