Mary’s developed her own style, which Joe is unable to describe to Asia’s satisfaction, but he does say that her gowns are all in deep blues and wine reds, and that she has a lot of them. The hotel staff refers to Edwin as the Prince and Mary (the daughter of Irish immigrants!) as the Princess, a particular triumph since the Prince of Wales has also stayed there and been found insufficiently royal to take Edwin’s crown. Joe talks of glittering friends and grand parties.

It’s clear to Asia that Mary is living rich. She has no idea how hard Mary is working for this money. Mary’s taken the artistic advancement of Edwin’s career on as a calling. She makes notes on every performance. They discuss these over dinner. She is my severest critic, Edwin says, and therefore my kindest.

But keeping his spirits up is hard work. Keeping him sober is harder work. Had she only known it, her life bears some slight similarity to that of the boy Edwin, the Edwin who followed his father through the moonlight, trying to keep him out of bars. But with less resentment and more gratitude. Mary knows that she’s lucky. Still, on occasion she feels the same loneliness as that sad boy.

His growing success has one unexpected outcome—it brings Edwin Forrest out of retirement. Forrest would never admit that he’s competing with this younger Edwin, as he sees nothing there worthy of competition. “Good voice, good eyes, and his father’s name,” Forrest says.

They perform in New York City on the same nights, Forrest at Niblo’s and Edwin at the Winter Garden. They both play Hamlet. They both play Richelieu. Forrest goes to see Edwin in Macbeth, although if asked he would have said he was there for Lady Macbeth, being now portrayed by the great Charlotte Cushman. This is the role Abraham Lincoln once told Cushman he most wished to see her play. But Cushman and Edwin make an almost comical pair—she so much older and bigger than he is. It takes all their skill to move the audience past this visual and Edwin is sometimes unable to forget it himself. He tells Adam that when Cushman urges murder on him, he’s tempted to say, Do it yourself. You’re much bigger and stronger than I. He refers to Cushman as the Colonel.

Forrest is fully alive to the comedy of it. He laughs when Cushman says: “ ‘All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.’ ” Cushman’s hand is as big as a cod. And as to Edwin, why does he scuff along the ground like that as if he’s looking for some coin he dropped?