edick, Orlando, Cassio, Harry Dornton, the Stranger, St. Pierre, the Brigand, Evelyn, Don Felix, Horace De Beauval, Claude Melnotte (which he has played a greater number of successive nights than any actor but Macready), the Rover, Wildrake, in the "Love Chase," and a hundred others, in light farce and vaudeville, which he has made peculiarly his own. Most other actors have a fixed routine, or, if the routine be not so fixed in itself, their peculiarities produce a resemblance between the characters they represent. But in a new part Mr. Wallack is a new individual; the outer and inner man are completely changed, and the transmigration of souls could not convey more forcibly the putting on of a new soul and body. He has been the original and has made the characters of Monte Christo, Elliott Grey, Captain of the Watch, Badger, in the "Poor of New York," McGregor, in "Jessie Brown," Horace De Beauval, the Poor Young Man; Chalcotte, in "Ours," besides a multitude of others.
Such achievement is not ordinarily found, and needed much toil; but the labor we delight in physics pain, and even for such toil public appreciation and its agreeable accompaniment—full coffers—are a rich reward. He has attained an ample fortune, and as when struggling up the steep, he never, like so many others, especially artists, who when poor are prodigal, when wealthy mean—indulged in any personal luxury, beyond maintaining a graceful and quiet home; now that he has reached the summit he expends the fortune so worthily acquired, in a large and genial hospitality which he has inherited from his father, in graceful and manly pursuits, and in many acts of kindness we could mention, having that true benevolence which buries not its gold in ostentatious charity, but builds its hospital in the human heart.
Both as manager and artist Mr. Wallack holds unquestioned the first position either in Europe or (and in both classes the American stage stands preeminent), this country. He has not only redressed and regilded many of the old comedies, but has himself written several plays, as the "Veteran" and "Rosedale." which have achieved longer runs than any drama of the day, and which are destined to hold an abiding place upon the stage. He has drawn from his father the justly artistic idea that the old dramas are a mine of wealth, as yet but half worked, and that too exclusive reliance should not be placed on mere acting and scenic display, which are, after all, but a means to an end. The stage without a literature is a body without a soul. The present race of actors are not such as to adorn the drama. They are as a rule foils to the author's wit—not light to his hidden meaning. His theatre is really the only one now in which authors find a field for the production of their pieces. All the recent plays of Taylor, Boucicault, Robertson, Reade and Phillips have been brought out there; and while Mr. Wallack has usually too much on his hands to mould into form the crude conceptions of tyros, aspiring dramatists have always found with him a direct and open communication, an enlightened and impartial judgment, and a judicious encouragement to talent of the right kind. We have known him in many instances give valuable assistance, without which plays could not be acted, and where the obstacles to success were merely technical, draw out much latent power. Still ambitious playwrights should know that in all times the most—indeed the only—successful dramatists have been connected with the theatrical profession, or, as in the case of Bulwer and Macready, have relied on the aid of those who were. This fact speaks volumes on the necessity of a knowledge of stage business to dramatic writers. That this is not intuitive must be learned, and experience can only teach it.
