malice, a cool revenge, not a burst of passion from an o'ercharged heart. Whether this remark is just is left to the determination of the judicious public.

I have seen both these gentlemen play King Lear within a few days of one another. I must confess I had pleasure from the performance of the lesser monarch in several passages. My expectations had indeed been greatly raised by the many encomiums lavished on him, but were not answered to my wish. There was a petiteness attended the performance which I thought not quite equal to the character-his behavior often liable to censure, particularly, I thought, at the end of those scenes where the unnatural behavior of his daughters works him up almost to frenzy. Do not the preceding and following parts point out to us that Lear rushes wildly from beneath the roof where he has been so unhospitably treated? Why, then, is he to sink into the arms of his attendants? Thus helpless as he there affects to appear, though his daughters turned him out of doors, surely his attendants would have conveyed him to some place of rest; yet by the play we find he roams into the wood, exposing himself unto the storm. Besides the error of this fainting-fit, let us examine how 'tis executed. His spirits being quite exhausted, he drops almost lifeless into the arms of his attendants. Do they carry him off? Why, no. Relaxed as we may suppose his whole machine is (for his head and body are both thrown extravagantly behind, as if his neck and back were broke), yet his knees (which in Nature would most likely falter first) are still so able to support him in that odd bent condition that he walks off with the regular stiff step of a soldier in his exercise on the parade. Is this consistent? is this natural? is this character? Does not this uncouth appearance, with his bent-back body and drooping head, rather resemble the uncomely distortion of a posture-master when he walks the "sea-crab," as they call it? By the introduction of such extravagances he seems to have borrowed a hint from our brother Bayes when he says, "I scorn your dull fellows who borrow all they do from Nature; I'm for fetching it out of my own fancy." And a pretty fancy it is, truly! I question if it would have

But, as Bayes

entered into the imagination of any other man. again says, "It serves to elevate and surprise." Thus the actor is satisfied if he can gain a clap from the upper gallery, while the pit and boxes, with a silent shrug alone, condemn such outre behavior. Certainly, the author meant not this fainting-fit or that Lear should stay to be held. He rather meant the king, in hurry of his rage and grief, stung to the heart by those unnatural hags, should fly all roofs, shun all attendance, pomp, and ceremony-should strive in his agony of soul to fly himself if possible.

I have been informed (I know not how true it may be, though the story is not unlikely) that when Mr. Garrick first undertook the part of King Lear he went to a bedlam to learn to act a madman. It had not been a very improper school, perhaps, had he been to have played some of the low, ridiculous mad characters in The Pilgrim; but as we do not hear of any mad king being locked up there, I do not readily conceive how his visit to those elder brothers of the sky could answer his purpose. One might imagine his judgment (if he has any) might have suggested to him a considerable difference in the behavior of a real king, by great distress driven to distraction, and the fantasque of a poor mad tailor who in a kind of frolic delirium imagines himself a king. Though the mockery of King Cabbage might cause a smile with our pity, yet sure the deplorable situation of the real monarch would rather rive the heart than excite risibility.

I am at a loss to guess what end this visit to the palace in Moor-Fields could answer. 'Tis probable the most striking object he could fix his eye on, and the most worthy his attention, was placed over the gate to that entrance. I imagine no one would think Shakespeare would have paid such a visit to have learnt from the medley jargon of those unhappy maniacs matter to have furnished out his scenes of Lear's madness. No; his amazing genius, whose extensive imagination took in all Nature, and with a judgment adequate arranged his ideas, giving proper sentiment, language, and spirit to every character, when Lear's madness struck his raptured fancy, "the

poet's brain, in a fine fiery fit of frenzy rolling," wanted not such mean resources.

I have heard some persons objected that Mr. Barry would want pleasantry in the mad-scenes of King Lear. I must confess I was at a loss to know what they meant. Lear's madness claims a serious attention-sometimes excites our admiration, often moves our tears, and ever our pity and our terror. If a spectator of those scenes should be inclined to laugh, might not one suspect such spectator had no very delicate feeling, or that there was something absurd in the actor's performance? It may be observed that though Lear is turned of fourscore, yet he sinks not into the enervated or decrepit old man; he no more bends under age than as Nature (though in spirit and health) will at that time of day sometimes give way to ease. His deportment will still express the monarch.

I own I think Mr. Barry well deserved the uncommon ap-* plause he met with in this part. It may be a question whether in this character he has not shown more of the masterly actor than in all he has done before. His voice was well managed, his looks expressive, his deportment becoming the character, his actions graceful and picturesque; he meant well, and executed that meaning with a becoming dignity and ease. There appeared throughout a well-conducted variety and spirited propriety. His attitudes appeared the result of Nature, and by a happy transition from one to another they seemed not studied. He threw himself into 'em as if his immediate feeling alone directed him to the use of 'em.

There has lately appeared in some of our public papers the following epigram on the two Lears:

"To praise the different Lears,

To Barry they gave loud huzzas
To Garrick only tears."

A pretty conceit, but how if it is not quite true? For 'tis as certain that Mr. Garrick has had other applause besides tears as 'tis true that Mr. Barry, besides loud huzzas, has never failed to draw tears from many of his spectators. Were it injurious to the author of this epigram to suppose he was a

little hurt by Mr. Barry's success? Though it may be difficult to say who was the author, yet to guess who was hurt most by Mr. Barry's applause cannot be a very hard matter to guess.

Permit me, therefore, to deliver to you a reply to the forementioned epigram. I believe it may fairly stand by the other, and is not the less poignant for its truth:

"Critics, attend, and judge the rival Lears:

Whilst each commands applause and each your tears,
Then own this truth: Well he performs his part

Who touches even Garrick to the heart."

Congreve makes Witwould say, "Contradictions beget one another, like rabbits." The simile may hold on this occasion in regard to epigrams. I have had two sent me on this subject, which I shall venture to repeat, though since they were sent to me (as was the last) they have made their appearance in some of our public papers:

"When kingly Barry acts, the boxes ring

"Shakespeare, arise, and end the warm dispute-
Bid malice cease to sneer, and wits be mute.
If both the Lears have merit in thy eyes,
On both smile gracious, and divide the prize.
Of future worth let candor be the test:

Who envies most shall be but second best."

Will it not be a matter of some surprise to the public that an actor of such improving talents and happy abilities as Mr. Barry is avowedly possessed of should be rejected by any manager of a theatre? Should any personal pique or prejudice prevent the director adding to the strength of his company or to the variety of the town's entertainment? Is any of our theatres so rich in actors as not to need any performer who has stood the trial and passed the public approbation? But perhaps the great vanity and little fears of the player got the better even of the avarice of the manager, and rather than

have so powerful a competitor (in tragedy especially) under the same roof, he chose to forego (heart-breaking thought!) even the lucre that must have accrued to the manager from such an actor's performance. Yet that this stage-director might have had this actor in his company is a truth the patentee can scarcely be hardy enough to deny while Mr. Barry In my view of the two Lears I have rather chosen to dwell longer on the excellences of one actor than on a closer observation of the defects of the other; for, though, as the Duke of Buckingham observes,

is living to assert it.

"Tis great delight to laugh at some men's ways,

Yet 'tis much greater to give merit praise."

V.

STRICTURES UPON THE ACTING AND PERSONAL TRAITS OF DAVID GARRICK.

THE opinions of the writer of the following article (published in the Mirror of Taste, Philadelphia, about 1811) were evidently formed on critical remarks upon the same subject published in the London Monthly Mirror of 1801. I submit them to the reader with no other comment but that they will be found to run on the same lines with what I have hitherto said regarding favorable and adverse criticism on the merits of the English Roscius:

That Mr. Garrick was the greatest actor of his time is so universally admitted that, if there were any one now disinclined to believe it, prudence would forbid him to avow his incredulity. Against the voice of nations and the opinions of most of the enlightened critics of his time it would be presumptuous, and no less vain than presumptuous, to set up a different opinion at this time; but that much of the extravagant eulogies we now read, and many of the strange stories we hear recounted of his powers, are the offspring of that