Mr. Fechter

ON MR. FECHTER'S ACTING

The distinguished artist whose name is prefixed to these remarks
purposes to leave England for a professional tour in the United
States. A few words from me, in reference to his merits as an
actor, I hope may not be uninteresting to some readers, in advance
of his publicly proving them before an American audience, and I know
will not be unacceptable to my intimate friend. I state at once
that Mr. Fechter holds that relation towards me; not only because it
is the fact, but also because our friendship originated in my public
appreciation of him. I had studied his acting closely, and had
admired it highly, both in Paris and in London, years before we
exchanged a word. Consequently my appreciation is not the result of
personal regard, but personal regard has sprung out of my
appreciation.

The first quality observable in Mr. Fechter's acting is, that it is
in the highest degree romantic. However elaborated in minute
details, there is always a peculiar dash and vigour in it, like the
fresh atmosphere of the story whereof it is a part. When he is on
the stage, it seems to me as though the story were transpiring
before me for the first and last time. Thus there is a fervour in
his love-making--a suffusion of his whole being with the rapture of
his passion--that sheds a glory on its object, and raises her,
before the eyes of the audience, into the light in which he sees
her. It was this remarkable power that took Paris by storm when he
became famous in the lover's part in the Dame aux Camelias. It is a
short part, really comprised in two scenes, but, as he acted it (he
was its original representative), it left its poetic and exalting
influence on the heroine throughout the play. A woman who could be
so loved--who could be so devotedly and romantically adored--had a
hold upon the general sympathy with which nothing less absorbing and
complete could have invested her. When I first saw this play and
this actor, I could not in forming my lenient judgment of the
heroine, forget that she had been the inspiration of a passion of
which I had beheld such profound and affecting marks. I said to
myself, as a child might have said: "A bad woman could not have
been the object of that wonderful tenderness, could not have so
subdued that worshipping heart, could not have drawn such tears from
such a lover". I am persuaded that the same effect was wrought upon
the Parisian audiences, both consciously and unconsciously, to a
very great extent, and that what was morally disagreeable in the
Dame aux Camelias first got lost in this brilliant halo of romance.
I have seen the same play with the same part otherwise acted, and in
exact degree as the love became dull and earthy, the