On his return to Florence he was hospitably entertained by the marquis of Normanby, then English ambassador to the court of Tuscany, and this enlightened nobleman strongly encouraged him to extend his repertory of Shakespearian characters.  In 1865 occurred the sixth centenary of Dante’s birthday, and the four greatest Italian actors were invited to perform in Silvio Pellico’s tragedy of Francesca di Rimini, which is founded on an episode in the Divina Commedia.  The cast originally stood on the play-bills thus:  Francesca, Signora Ristori; Lancelotto, Signor Rossi; Paulo, Signor Salvini; and Guido, Signor Majeroni.  It happened, however, that Rossi, who was unaccustomed to play the part of Lancelotto, felt timid at appearing in a character so little suited to him.  Hearing this, Signor Salvini, with exquisite politeness and good-nature, volunteered to take the insignificant part, relinquishing the grand role of Paulo to his junior in the profession.  He created by the force of his genius an impression in the minor part which is still vivid in the minds of all who witnessed the performance.  The government of Florence, grateful for his urbanity, presented him with a statuette of Dante, and King Victor Emmanuel rewarded him with the title of knight of the Order of the Saints Maurice and Lazarus.  Later he received from the same monarch a diamond ring, with the rank of officer in the Order of the Crown of Italy.  In 1868, Signer Salvini visited Madrid, where his acting of the death of Conrad in La Morte Civile produced such an impression that the easily-excited Madrilese rushed upon the stage to ascertain whether the death was actual or fictitious.  The queen, Isabella II., conferred upon the great actor many marks of favor, and so shortly afterward did King Louis of Portugal, who frequently entertained him at the royal palace of Lisbon.

Signor Salvini’s recent visit to America I need scarcely mention:  its triumphs are still fresh in the memory of the public, and the only drawback to its complete success was the unhappy fact that the eminent artist did not appeal to his audiences in their own language.

I know of nothing more remarkable than the difference which exists between the Salvini of the stage and the Salvini of private life, the one so imposing, impetuous and fiery, the other so gentle, urbane, and even retiring.  He is a gentleman possessing the manners of the good old school—­courtly and somewhat ceremonious, reminding one of those Italian nobles of the sixteenth century of whom we lead in the novels of Giraldo Cinthio and Fiorentino—­uomini illustri, e di civil costumi.  His greeting is cordial and his conversation delightful, full of anecdote and marked with enthusiasm for his art.  When I first became acquainted with him I was of opinion that his interpretation of Hamlet was based only upon the translated text, but in the course of a very long conversation on the subject I discovered that he was