n a brief time he was famous. "He at once decided the
public taste," said Macklin; and Pope summed up the victory in the
well-known sentence, "That young man never had an equal, and will never
have a rival." Tennyson's line furnishes the apt and comprehensive
comment--"The many fail, the one succeeds." Mary Anderson in her day
furnished the most conspicuous and striking example, aside from that of
Adelaide Neilson, to which it is possible to refer of this exceptional
experience. And yet, even after years of trial and test, it is doubtful
whether the excellence of that remarkable actress was entirely
comprehended in her own country. The provincial custom of waiting for
foreign authorities to discover our royal minds is one from which many
inhabitants of America have not yet escaped. As an actress, indeed, Mary
Anderson was, probably, more popular than any player on the American
stage excepting Edwin Booth or Joseph Jefferson; but there is a
difference between popularity and just and comprehensive intellectual
recognition. Many actors get the one; few get the other.

Much of the contemporary criticism that is lavished upon actors in this
exigent period--so bountifully supplied with critical observations, so
poorly furnished with creative art--touches only upon the surface.
Acting is measured with a tape and the chief demand seems to be for
form. This is right, and indeed is imperative, whenever it is certain
that the actor at his best is one who never can rise above the
high-water mark of correct mechanism. There are cases that need a deeper
method of inquiry and a more searching glance. A wise critic, when this
emergency comes, is something more than an expert who gives an opinion
upon a professional exploit. The special piece of work may contain
technical flaws, and yet there may be within it a soul worth all the
"icily regular and splendidly null" achievements that ever were possible
to proficient mediocrity. That soul is visible only to the observer who
can look through the art into the interior spirit of the artist, and
thus can estimate a piece of acting according to its inspirational drift
and the enthralling and ennobling personality out of which it springs.
The acting of Mary Anderson, from the first moment of her career, was of
the kind that needs that deep insight and broad judgment,--aiming to
recognise and rightly estimate its worth. Yet few performers of the day
were so liberally favoured with the monitions o