with him. Lawrence Barrett was a man of
high principle and perfect integrity. He never spoke a false word nor
knowingly harmed a human being, in all his life. Although sometimes he
seemed to be harsh and imperious, he was at heart kind and humble.
Strife with the world, and in past times uncertainty as to his position,
caused in him the assumption of a stern and frigid manner, but beneath
that haughty reserve there was a great longing for human affection and a
sincere humility of spirit. He never nurtured hostility. He had no
memory for injuries; but a kindness he never forgot. His good deeds were
as numerous as his days--for no day rolled over his head without its act
of benevolence in one direction or another. He was as impulsive as a
child. He had much of the woman in his nature, and therefore his views
were impetuous, strong, and often strongly stated; but his sense of
humour kept pace with his sensibility and so maintained the equilibrium
of his mind. In temperament he was sad, pensive, introspective, almost
gloomy; but he opposed to that tendency an incessant mental activity and
the force of a tremendous will. In his lighter moods he was not only
appreciative of mirth but was the cause of it. His humour was elemental
and whatever aspect of life he saw in a comic light he could set in that
light before the eyes of others. He had been a studious reader for many
years and his mind was stored with ample, exact, and diversified
information. He had a scholar's knowledge of Roman history and his
familiar acquaintance with the character and career of the first
Napoleon was extraordinary. In acting he was largely influenced by his
studies of Edmund Kean and by his association with Charlotte Cushman.
For a few years after 1864 his art was especially affected by that of
Edwin Booth; but the style to which he finally gravitated was his own.
He was not so much an impersonator as he was an interpreter of
character, and the elocutionary part of acting was made more conspicuous
and important by him than by any other tragedian since the days of
Forrest and Brooke.

It was a beautiful life prematurely ended. It was a brave, strong
spirit suddenly called out of the world. To the dramatic profession the
loss is irreparable. In the condition of the contemporary theatre there
are not many hopeful signs. No doubt there will be bright days in the
future, as there have been in the past. They go and they return. The
stage declines and the