could depend, he would not have sheathed his sword. So, too, when he said—

"Methinks I see my father's spirit !"

and he gave a sharp sudden start of surprise, it was objected, that his action expressed too pointedly that the spirit was before him, whereas it was only present to his "mind's eye, Horatio." It was suggested that the true conception was more a tender respect, with a languid and affectionate tone of voice-a view that he entirely adopted. Indeed, this feature was remarked all through the performance. He conveyed an idea of deep filial piety and reverence, which was surprising in those days of Shakspearean ignorance, and shows what a delicate instinct he possessed.

When the Ghost entered, he was held by his two friends, and made violent struggles to set himself freea piece of the "business" which his great taste soon tempered down, as it was much more natural that he should remain awe-struck and motionless.

When he played it in Dublin, he followed the established unmeaning precedent of leaving out the speech to the players. When he came to London, he restored it; but he always gave it a little too pedantically, and like a pedagogue teaching, instead of a philosophic prince, carelessly speaking to his inferiors. Here was the weak side of Garrick, as it has been of so many other great actors, namely, in giving the very common character of a gentleman. In this, to the end of his life, he never quite succeeded. When the player spoke his speech, Garrick illustrated it by gestures, and as it were acted with him, which seemed a little mean in the son of a king. In his scene with Ophelia he was a

little too rough and violent, and forgot that he was the lover of Ophelia. Indeed, when he first acted it, there was found to be a want of softness and interest, and he seemed to be "a hot, testy fellow, for ever flying into a passion," even where there was no provocation in the world. Thus, when Polonius came to tell him the actors were arrived, and he stops his mouth hastily, it was done too roughly and impatiently, for a generous, kindly nature such as Hamlet's was. Again, when Polonius speaks of using the actors according to their deserts, there was the same pettish and excited way of contradicting him.

The panegyric on man :

"How noble in reason!"

was delivered with a fine enthusiasm and energy. His self-upbraidings of cowardice and pusillanimity in the soliloquy, where he plans testing his uncle to the quick-the mixture of contempt and derision-were beyond measure effective. The deliberation, and sudden change in his voice and look, when he said :

"I have heard

"That guilty creatures sitting at a play "

were so marked as to hold the audience breathless, while he unfolded the plan. He rested on the words, "kindless villain!" with a pathetic softness and regret that went to every heart.

In the famous soliloquy

"To be or not to be,"

his play of expression, the variety and change of voice, yet all not exceeding the bounds of a simple meditation, was one of the most remarkable features of

the performance. He seemed to make all stages of the train of thought quite clear and distinct. The Irish critics were delighted with his scene with Ophelia, and that with his mother. One said it was all "played so inimitably well, and with such strict justice, he never saw anything to equal it in his life." The same judge suggested his leaving out the "abominable" soliloquy, when Hamlet puts off killing the King at his prayers, for fear he should go to Heaven. Garrick at once adopted the advice, and from that day it has never been restored. It was, a pity he did not break through the stale old tradition of Hamlet's pulling out the two miniatures, instead of the finer notion suggested by Davies, of having them on the tapestry-or the better idea still, of seeing them with his mind's eye only. Nothing could be finer than his playing in this scene. His reproofs to her were stern, yet tinged with a filial respect, and regret for a mother so misled. This was varied by his address to the Ghost, full of awe, and yet of grief and tenderness. His eyes followed the spirit as it passed by, and expressed all these passions. Then came a change to sternness, as if he had awakened from a dream. When he said "some must laugh, while some must weep," &c., he was fond of a bit of questionable stage business; namely, walking backwards and forwards, and twirling a white handkerchief all the time. With the Gravediggers he was, at first, too sententious, and had too much the manner of a lecturer. This was pointed out to him, and he became much more dégagé and natural. When he was told the grave was for Ophelia, he at first took an odd view, and said, with seeming unconcern and surprise,

VOL. II.

"How, the fair Ophelia?"

whereas it was shown to him, that he should give a sort of frantic burst; or at least utter it, in a faint, low, agonised tone, which was most likely what he adopted. Instead of aiming at the rather sepulchral character of aspect which is the conventional type, he came on, with colour in his cheeks, and omitted the pompous music, to which the prince used to make his entry. All these little points show a happy instinct, and a hostility to the strained, unnatural, and buckram stage traditions which he inherited.

Some of his pronunciation, too, was a little uncertain. It was objected to him in Dublin that he did not give the letter a its full open sound (as in cat), but that he said maytron instead of mattron, Isrel instead of Israel, villin instead of villain, wind instead of wind; and, above all, that he sounded appal as if it were the word appeal. From this oddity, it seemed he had not yet shaken himself free of the old school pronunciation, which had once exposed Quin to a droll mistake; who, at rehearsal one day, gave orders to his Roman Guards that they should "lower their faces,' this word being pronounced in his theatrical fashion, like "fasces"-every symbol was bent. At his first performing, too, he talked of tropically; but on its being shown to him that the o was the short Greek o (not w), he at once amended it.

may

and

It be well conceived that Garrick never found an Ophelia like Mrs. Cibber. The character was almost unintelligible until she took it up, and tenderness, with a mixture of melancholy and madness, was never so rendered before. Indeed, it may be doubted if any modern actress ever approached her in these

gifts. He was not so fortunate in Mrs. Clive, with whom he once played it, which was an ill-judged and undignified selection.*

Towards the close of Garrick's career, an intelligent German, named Lichtenberg, with excellent powers of observation and description, came to England on his travels, and made a perfect study of the great actor, in most of his leading parts. What struck him was the perfect ease, the free play, and grace of every limb and muscle, which he had seen only in Frenchmen who had lived about Courts. When Garrick came on the stage, without having to speak, or express by his face or action any particular emotion, even then, he drew away attention, by his air of life, and animation, and interest. He was still part of "the action" that was going on. The other actors beside him, seemed puppets. The acute German noticed, too, the harmonious character of all his motions, as illustrating what he said; they were so easy, natural, and nicely graduated the shrug of his shoulders, his folding his arms, or moving his hat, now bringing it down, now cocking it with a touch, to show his forehead. There was nothing in excess, and all was done, as if from the suggestion of that moment. His nimbleness and activity on the stage, were very remarkable. And this testimony shows that those who were struck by the decay of his from, or who ill-naturedly called attention to the stiffness of age and bulkiness of figure, were only comparing him with his former sprightly and vivacious self. The new observer, putting him beside

* Doctor Monsey said it was a most ludicrous performance, and likened her to a shrimp.

† Mr. Tom Taylor called attention to these remarkable sketches in the early numbers of the "Victoria Magazine."