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moond bine, as is to implore compassion. Garrick voice so peculiarly musical, as, very early in life, *as often present at these scenes of misery, and used obtained him the appellation of “ The silver-toned to say thai it gave bin the first idea of Lear's mad- Barry," which, in all his love scenes (lighted op Bess. He sometimes gave a representation of this by the smiles of such a countenance) was persoarabappy father. He leaned on ihe back of a chair, síon itself. Indeed, so strongly did he communiSoemdg. with parental fondness, to play with a cate his feelings on these occasions, that, whoever child, and, after expressing the inost beartfelt de observed the expressive countenances of most of litt, be saddenly seemed to drop the infant, and the female parts of bis audience, would fancy that instantly broke into a most violent agony of grief, each seemed to say, in the langaage of Desdemona, 36 tender, so affecting that every eye in the com "Would that heaven had made me such a mán!” pany was moistened with a gush of tears."
His greatest trumph was Othello. This was the Hamlet was undoubtedly a favourite character first character he ever appeared in, the first his inwith Garrick; yet judging from his unpardonable clinations prompted him to attempt, and the first, alteration of that fine play, we might suppose he without question, that exhibited his genius in the had no true relish of the character. Murphy, full force and variety of its powers. In the outset bowever, and all his biographers are warm in of Othello, when he speaks but a few short senpraising his delineation of the Prince of Denmark. tences, there appears a dignified calmness in his ** lo all the shiftings of the passions, in which the nature. These passages are often passed over as tragedy abounds, his voice and attitude changed if the actor reserved himself for something more with wonderful celerity; and, at every pause, his striking; but Barry knew the value of these introface was an index to bis mind. On the appearance dactory traits of character; and in his very first of the Ghost, such a figure of consternation was speech, "It's better as it is,” bespoke such a preberes seen. He stood fixed in mute astonishment, eminence of judgment, such a noble forbearance of and the andience saw him growing paler and paler. temper, as roused the attention of his audience, After an interval of suspense, he spoke in a low and led them to anticipate the bighest gratification. ed trembling accent, and uttered bis questions His address to the senate was a glorious piece of with the greatest dificulty.” The rest of Murphy's oratory.. In the recital of his “ feats of broils and account of Garrick in this part, is uninteresting, battles,” the courage of the soldier was fully seen ; trecause totally deficient in that particolarity which but when he came to the tender ejaculations of only can convey information. Davies is equally Desdemona, his voice was so harmonised to the muxstio; and unfortunately we bave no better au expression, that the sigh of pity communicated it. thorities.
self to the whole house. In the second act, wlien Macbetb afforded another opportunity for the he meets Desdemona at Cyprus, after the storm, display of Garrick's talents. He seems to have his rashing into ber arms, and repeating that fine acteut it very boely; but nothiog is preserved re- speech--0! my soul's joy!" was the action and lative to his mode of representing the guilty Thane, voice of love itself; describing that passion in so foare descriptive than what follows: Conscious extatic a manner, as seemingly justified his fears, of bis rell design, Macbeth, with terror and dis- that such transports could never recur. Through may says, 'Is this a dagger that I see before me? the whole of the third act, where Iago is working Garrick's attitude, bis consternation, and his bim up to jealousy, bis breaks of love and rage, patxe, while his soul appeared in his countenance, were masterpieces of nature ; but in his conference and the accents that followed, astonished the spec
with Desdemona in the fifth act, where he describes talonu The sequel was a climax of terror, till at the agony of his mind, and then looking tenderly læst be frods it to be the effect of a disordered ima on her, exclaims, gisation, and esclaims:
“But there, where I had garner'd up my heart,
Where either I must live, or bear no life;"
the extremes of love and grief were so powerfully W Garrick re-entered the scene, with the painted in his face, and so impressively given in Bloody dager in his hand, he was absolutely his tones, that the audience seemed to lose the Be out of his senses, be looked like a ghastly energies of their hands, and could only thank bim spectacle, and his complexion grew wbiter every with their tears. In Othello, the author rises from beat, till at length, his conscience stung and scene to scene to a climax of horror and intense inpierred to the quick, be said, in a tone of wild terest never equalled in any language; and Barry ஷேன்: :
was an actor that kept pace with the mighty poet *Wall prat Neptune's ocean wash this blood
whose conceptions he embodied ; his ravings over Cras froe my hand.'
the dead body of his innocent wife, bis reconciliaGarridk performed Benedick in Much Ado tion with Cassio, and his dying soliloquy, were all est Nothing, with great success; his Othello in the full play of varied excellence, and forced ***decided failure; and his claim to praise for from the severest critic, the most unqualified ap
bzopy illustration of Shakspeare's plays, must plause. Colley Cibber, with all his partialities for stimately depend on bis representation of the oba- | Betterton, gave Barry the palm in Othello. fairs already mentioned.'
Notwithstanding the great popularity of this BARRY.
actor, it is a singular fact that not any good por
trait of bim exists, or we should have certainly BALAY was, io person, about five feet eleven added him to our group. in Ingh, finely formed, and possessing a conn. Barry died in January, 1777. tuace, in which manliness and sweetness were so baopily blended, as formed one of the best imita
HENDERSON. us of the Apollo Belvidere. With this fine com We have no very perfect account of this great ESIIRR bgare, be was so much in the free and actor, who, it appears, was rejected by Garrick, as Isay management of his limbs, as never to look altogether unfit for the stage; a striking instance of membered, or present an upgraceful attitude, in that wonderful artist's jealousy or want of judg2 ss various movements on the stage. Even bis ment. The following extracts from Boaden's Life et esd entrances bad peculiar grace, from their of Kemble, convey a tolerably good idea of Henharta resistio ease and simplicity. In short, when derson's peculiar style of acting, and are abundbe appeared in the scene, groaped with other antly suficient to establish his claim to the very
tar al ordinary size, be appeared as much above highest rank in his art : tas talis various qualifications, as in the proud “Mr. Henderson was, at this time (just before Pipesents of his figure. To this figure he added a the appearance of John Kemble) perhaps the
greatest master of bis art; he resembled bis illas-, sparkled in bis eye, before the tongue supplied trious predecessor (Garrick) in his versatility. them with language. I saw him act the character His tragedy, however, was certainly inferior to in the Second Part of Henry IV. where it is more his comedy. In the former, he had comparatively mataphysical, and consequently less powerful. He fewer requisites. His understanding was of the could not supply the want of active dilemmas, highest order, and his feelings could be instantane- such as exhilirate the Falstaff of the First Part, ously excited'; but his person was without either bat it was equally perfect in conception and execudignity or grace; and his eye, though well placed tion. I have borne with many invasions on this for expression, wanted colour, as his face, though pecular domain of Henderson. "It has in truth been rather handsome, was too fleshy to shew all the an ungracious task to most of his successors ; they muscular action, 'in wbich expression resides. He seem all to have doubted their right of possession ; was neglectful, too, of such aids as might have to have considered themselves tenants only apon been had to his figure. He paid not the slightest suflerance; and thus it was with King, and Palattention to costume, and was indifferent even as mer, and Stephen Kemble, and Ryder, and a to the neatness of his dress. He aflected to care whole chapter of fat knights, who have roared and nothing about it. He pleased bimself that he could chuckled at the slightest possible expense of at length make you forget the want which need not thought; and, laughing mach' themselves in their to have existed. All his excellencies were per turps, perhaps, 'set on some quantity of barren fectly concomitant with propriety in dress. Had spectators to laugh too.'- Peace to all such!" he studied appearance, his Lear might have been Henderson died 25th November, 1785, when be venerable ; although bis Hamlet could not be the had not completed his thirty-nin tlı year. • mould of form,' it might easily have been the glass of fashion ;' but he never looked even to the
MACKLIN. linings of the suit he wore, and once boasted that
MACKLIN made the part of Shylock pecaliarly he had played, I think, ten characters consecu his own, as he was the first actor who ever repretively, in the same coat. His conceptions were sented that inimitably fine character in a serious grand, and beautiful, and just; but they were of. and effective manver; previous to his assumpten baffled by his execution of them. When Hen- tion of it, it was usual to degrade the Jew of Vederson's Lear was first discovered, he looked like nice into a mere buffoon. Macklin performed a Falstaff sitting as Henry the Fourth ; and when variety of characters with infinite success, but his Lear speaks in his sleep, and fancying himself on Shylock alone connects him with Sbakspeare. The the point of gaining tbe battle, exclaims, Charge, following extract from Kirkman's Life of Macklin, charge upon the flank,' the tones were exactly will illustrate the merit of that performance more those with which Falstaff encourages Hal in the forcibly than anything of our own. combat with Percy, and excited a titter from so “In the year 1741, Macklin resolved to revive unsuitable a recollection. He had, indeed, made The Merchant of Venice, by Shakspeare, in opFalstaff his own, and the jolly knight seemed ra position to the Jew of Venice, altered from the ther too kindly to have returned the compliment; same autbor by lord Landsdowne. The play was for that vast soul of humour more or less informed put in rehearsal, and Macklin stack close to all bis other characters. He would sometimes de Shakspeare's text, and studied the part of Sbylock light to shew, without language, the rapid and op with great diligence. He saw from the beginning, posite emotions, as they rise and chace each other that such a character, if properly supported, affordin the mind. A masterly effort of this kind was ed a wide scope for the display of his abilities ; Falstaff's reading the letter from Mrs. Ford in the but he had a great deal to encounter and surmount. presence of the foolish carrion, Mrs. Quickly. The public had been for a long time to see and First you saw that he had • bis bellyful of Ford,' approve the representation of the Jew of Venice, her messenger even was an object of detestation. in which, the part of Shylock, instead of being the He glanced over the beginning of the letter, and principal, was tbe most subordinate in the play, pished at its apologies. He turned again to the and was always personated by a very low comedian. messenger to see how her air was in unison with Macklin, however, persevered. During the rethe language of her mistress. The cudgel of Ford hearsals he did not let any person, not even the then seemed to fall on his shoulders, and he shrunk players, see how be intended to act the part. He from the enterprise. He read a sentence or two merely repeated the lines of the character, and of the letter, a spark of lechery twinkled in his did not so much as one single look, tone, geseye, which turned for confirmation of his hopes ture, or attitude, disclose his manner of
persoupon love's ambassadress; and thus the images of nating the cruel Israelite. The actors declared suffering and desire, of alarm and enjoyment, suc that Macklin would spoil the performance; and ceeded one another, until at last the oil of incon- | Quin went so far as to say, that he would be hissed tinency in him settled above the waters of the off the stage for his arrogance and presamption.
Thames, and the divinity of odd numbers deter- Nay, even the manager himself expostulated with mined him to risk the third adventure.'
him, as to the propriety of having The Merchant " "I will not (said Mr. Kemble once to me) of Venice represented in opposition to the judg. speak of Henderson's Falstaff': every person ment of so eminent a person as lord Lansdowne; can say how rich and voluptuous it was; but still Macklin, supported throughout by his sound I will say, that his Shylock was the, greatest The Merchant of Venice was announced for repre
sense and acute discrimination, continued firm, and effort I ever witnessed on the stage.' member it in its principal scenes, and I have no sentation on the 14th of February. It was cast in doubt whatever that it fully merited so high a the following manuer : praise; but I respectfully insinuate, that Macklin
Mr. Quin. in the trial scene was superior to bim and all men. Yet it may be proper here to say, that in many of
Shylock .. his characters Henderson's superiority may be dis
Mr. Johnson. puted; but that his performance of Falstaff' is as much above all competition, as the character it
Mr. Cashell. self transcends all that was ever thought comic in
Prince of Arrogan
Mr. Turbutt. man. The cause of this pre-eminence was purely mental, he understood it better in its diversity of
Salarino powers; bis imagination was congenial; the images
Mrs. Pritchard. seemed coined in the brain of the actor; they
Mr. Milward. Mr. Mills. Mr. Macklin.
Duke of Venice
Mr. Winstone. Mr. Taswell. Mr. Redout. Mrs. Clive,
On the first nigbt of the revival, the bouse was that he was. Perhaps the discrimination of Tacicrowded in every part. Some came from motives tas as to the appearance of Agricola, was more di plexsare, some to express their disapprobation, than slightly characteristic of Kemble. He was some to support the actor, and a great number of that make and stature, which may be said to be appeared merely to gratify their cariosity. Be- graceful, not majestic. His countenance had not fore the curtain rose, the manager appeared in the that commanding air wbich strikes with awe : a green-room in great distress. The actors were an sweetness of expression was the prevailing chatrcipating the reception that awaited them, and
You would have been easily convinced were making malicious remarks upon the head- that he was a good man, and you would have been strong conduct of Macklin. It is impossible to willing to believe him a great one. I have suffidescribe the feelings of poor Shylock at this pre- ciently, I hope, guarded this application to Mr. rise jancture. Macklin knew that he was right, Kemble in private life. On the stage, he burst bal he could not be sure of a kind reception from a upon you with a dignity unseen but in his person mixed and stormy audience.
and gesture; and embodied all that imagination, The cartain rose, and the performers wbo opened perhaps alone, has suggested of ancient manners. the play were received with the usual marks of fa We now proceed to give a slight sketch of his four. But when Shylock and Bassanio entered performance in four of Shakspeare's characters, in the third scene, there was an awful silence, a not so much in the hope of doing justice to bis prepis might bave been heard if dropt upon the stage. eminent talents, as with the bumbler expectation Mackla was mach affected by this coolness of the of giving our readers pleasure, by exciting their udience on bis entrance. He had been a favour- recollection of past enjoyments. ite for several years, and his appearance was ge
Hamlet introduced "Mr. Kemble to a London merally hailed with loud plaudits. Conceive then audience, and it may well be doubted whether the Macklin's feelings at this juncture, when not a part was ever so ably represented, either before or band moved to encourage him. Notwithstanding since. The calm, contemplative nature of the all this, be approached with Bassanio, who solicits royal Dane, seemed to sit peculiarly well upon ! loan of three thousand ducats on the credit of bim, and the noble poetry of the part came from Antonio. Still not a wbisper could be beard in his mouth clothed with all the richness and harmony te boase. Anthonio enters, avd the Jew declares of eloquence. His scene with the Ghost was all the canse of his aptipathy against the merchant. that the most critical judgment could require ; for Ma klin bad no sooner delivered this speech, than without once degenerating into rant, he was imthe audience suddenly barst into a thunder of ap- pressive in the highest degree. While the spectre please, and as he proceeded with bis masterly de continued before him, his eye was fixed in eager Location of the character, the admiring und de- inquiry, and his voice, in the fine adjuration. Ånlighted spectators testified their approbation of gels and ministers of grace defend us !" sinking the actor's aslonisbing merit, by still louder and into a hushed irresolute tone, betrayed the amazeloader plaadits aod acclamations to the end of the ment of the speaker. When he heard the tale of play. Never was a dramatic triumph more com his father's murder, a sudden hectic of anger flitted plete. The performance was repeated again and over his pale cheek, but it was succeeded by inagain with unbounded approbation. In short, it tense sorrow, as he ejaculated " Alas! poor ghost.” raa nineteen nights successively, the last of which the devotedness with which he promised rewas appropriated for Macklin's benefit.
venge appeared to rise natarally out of the circumMacklin, there can be no doubt, looked, as well stances; bat the way in which he sunk on his knees uspoke the character of Shylock, much better as the phantom vanished, asking by his clasped than any other person. In the level sceues, his hands, and imploring
looks the paternal blessing, voice was most happily suited to that sententious was above praise. In the play scene bis wildly Douniness of expression the author intended; expressed affection towards' Ophelia, and his which, with a sollen solemnity of deportment, anxious scrutiny of the King, combined with the zarted the character strongly.' In bis malevo- assumed follies of fatoity, deadened the spectator's lence, there was a foscible and terrifying ferocity. perception that the whole was a fiction, and cheatDuring the interview with Tubal, in the third act, ed him into a belief that real events were passing
sus inimitable. He broke the tones of utter before bim. In the closet scene, his upbraidings of EBCE, he was at once malevolent and then infuriate, Gertrude were finely tempered by the affection he si tlen malevolent again ; the transitions were still bore her as a son; but the attitude of damb stretly natural, and the variation of his counte- dismay in which he stood on the
re-appearance of tance admirable. In the dumb action of the trial | the Ghost, would have justified Partridge's critiNorbe be was amazingly descriptive ; and, through cism in Tom Jones, who could find nothing wonthe whole, displayed such unequalled merit, as derful in Garrick's terror at seeing a spirit. In pouy epuilled him to the comprehensive though the last act, when apprised of Ophelia's death, his bacise compliment paid him by Pope, who sat in
exclamation “What, the fair Ophelia ?” le stage- bor on the third night of the representa- given in a tone of snch heart-rending pathos that lea, and emphatically exclaimed
every eye in the audience became involuntarily ** This is the Jew,
dimmed with tears. The soliloquy, “ To be or That Shakspeare drew."
not to be," and the advice to the players, were The Jew of Venice made his final exit, and the given with appropriate effect; and indeed every Werchant of Venice has held quiet possession of portiou of the character received the highest posthe Mage eter since.
sible finish. " When Mr. Kemble first appeared, Mallin died in July, 1797, being then consi- (says Boaden) he played the part in a modern court derably opwards of a hundred years old.
dress of rich black velvet, with a star on the breast, J. P. KEMBLE.
the garter and pendant ribband of an order, mourn
ing sword and buckles, with deep ruffles : the hair The following passage from Boaden's Life of in powder, which in the scenes of feigned distracEu truly greu and most excellent man, will be tion, flowed dishevelled in front and over the shoulnad with interest : Mr. Kemble, as to his
per- ders." * right be said to be majestic hy effort rather Macbeth, as represented by Kemble, was a thes tabit, be coold become so in a moment. His character that to the very last seemed entitled to Anmery gant was careless, his look rather kind our sympathies, his natural bias was to virtue, is peneinudg. He did not, except profession- overwbelming circumstances had plunged him in vity, etnive to be considered the noble creature guilt. He trod the blasted heath a truly mayni
ficent being, flushed with victory, happy in the tia's dead!" it was the voice of nature whispered present, and full of hope for the future. His dress from the heart of a stoic. The way in which he as a Scottish thane, shewed his fine person to relieved his drowsy page from bis instrument, was great advantage ; the graceful negligence of the a delightful piece of domestic kindness. His detartan, the ainple plumage of the bonnet, the portment on beholding the shade of Cæsar, and warlike semblance of the brightly bossed shield, his answer to the prophecy "'Thou sbalt meet me all conspired to produce a picture, not classical at Phillippi," were inconceivably grand, as bis indeed, but romantic in the highest degree. The fortitude under defeat, and his constancy in death, appearance of the Weird Sisters seemed to para were in the highest degree affecting and dignified. lyse the triumphant chieftain, and their “All lail,” Coriolanus.-In this character Mr. Kemble took with the deceitful prophecies that followed, took his leave of the stage: it was a glorious perhold of his imagination and sunk into his brain formance. Forgetting all the infirmities of age, with fatal power. You saw at this moment, as (he was then sixty, and had been for years a marKemble represented the part, a virtuous and single-tyr to the gout,) he threw all his mighty intellect hearted soldier on the point of being seduced from into the lofty-minded Patrician, and rushed upon his onward course into crooked paths of evil, and the stage with the step and air, and enthusiasm of the feeling inspired was decidedly compassion. youth. The same ardour supported him through In the scene where his fiend-like wise persuades ihe whole play ; bis bitter scorn of the plebeians him to assassinate his guest, the noble burst had never been given with such annihilating force, “I dare do all that may become a man,
the Tribunes shrunk into nothingness before bim ; Who dares do more is none,"
and at Corioli, he seemed like a youthful Mars was delivered with all the energy of truth, and he bearing death and victory on his sword. When seemed for a moment to have broken from the suing for the Consolship, the royalty of scorn with trammels of his destiny. Immediately previous which he drew back from the prying eyes of the
morder, when conscience presents the people, and the impatient enumeration which be visionary dagger to appal him, bis terrible rami made of his claims to preferment, produced an nations were given in a tone of hurry and alarm, electric effect. Even this was but the level part and with looks of dread and irresolution, admira- of the character; the vehemence of his indignation, bly appropriate. The crime completed, you when charged with treason, was terrible ; and the heard ihe voice of the assassin as be descended burst of contempt, “There is a world elsewbere,” from the chamber of his victim, and the effect of rolled from bis' lips like a thunder-peal. The those few words was absolutely sublime; for they scenes at Antiam merit equal praise; but langoage were enunciated in a hollow sepulchral tone, sinks beneath the attempt to describe his excel. which bespoke all the horror, despair, and punish- lence in the last act, it was a wonderful display of ment of a murderer. Presently, moving mechani- genius: Raphael might have ennobled bis concepcally, like a madman in breathless haste to escape tions by studying it. from some undefined evil, came Macbeth, staring with eyes that seemed starting from their sockets,
COOKE. on his bloody hands, and weapons “unmannerly The following account of Cooke's personal breeched with gore.' At the banquet, when Ban-qualifications for the histrionic art, is taken from quo's apparition rises, the frenzy of bis amaze Goede, a German critic, and it seems to be correct ment was adequate to its cause. He dashed down and impartial : “Cooke does not possess the ele. the untasted goblet, and gazed as if hell had yawn- gant figure of Kemble, but his countenance beams ed at his feet. Nor can we omit to remark the with expression. The most prominent features in melancholy beauty bestowed by Kemble on the the physiognomy of Cooke, are a long and soinewbat closing scenes of Macbeth. Who that heard him de- hooked nose, of uncommon breadth between the liver ii, can ever forget the deep pathos of bis man eyes, which are fiery, dark, and at times, terribly ner, in the soliloquy beginning "My way of life is expressive, with prominent lids, and flexible fallen into the sear,” alas ! how dillerent from the brows; a lofty and broad forehead, and the "sonnd and fury" of more recent performers. muscles around the mouth pointedly marked. His
Brutus.- In the representation of this part, and countenance is certainly not so dignified as Kemindeed of all his Roman characters, tbis actor ne ble's; but its expression of passion, particularly ver had a rival. His person, always grand and the worst passions of our nature, is stronger. His commanding, in the dress of a Roman senator or voice, though sharp, is powerful and of great comwarrior, swelled into a majesty of port and de pass, a pre-eminence which he possesses by nature meanour that seemed too bigh for mere mortality, over Kemble, and of which he skilfully avails bimThe garden scene in Julius Caesar, which most self. His attitudes are far less picturesque tban artists would leave tiresome and tedious, was in those of Kemble ; but they are just, appropriate, Kemble's hands a source of exquisite delight to and natural.' every auditor of taste. His address to the con The account we shall now give of Cooke in his spirators was the outpouring of a patriot's soul; three principal characters, is extracted from bis and his regretful glance at Cæsar as he passed life by Dunlop, with reference however to other into the capitol, was a fine commentary on the text sources of information. of Shakspeare. When the dictator lay dead at bis On the 31st of October, 1800, Mr. Cooke, feet, wbile he shook his ensanguined sword, and then in the forty-fifth year of his age, appeared called on bis country's Gods, Liberty first, his for the first time on the Covent Garden stage, as figure dilated as he spoke, and his voice seemed Richard III. and at once established his fame as an echo from the glories of ancient Rome. His a first-rate tragedian. • Never,” be says, “was a oration to the plebeians, was what it always should reception more flattering, nor ever did I receive be-clear, nervous, authoritative, patrotic. The tent more encouraging, indulgent, and warm approbascene, certainly one of the author's noblest efforts, tion, than on that night, both through the play and was perhaps ihe greatest triumph of the actor. at the conclusiou. Mr. Kemble did me the honour The spirit of the death-despising Bratas appeared of making one of the audience.” to modulate his tones, alike incapable of passion or Mr. Cooke's figure and manner in many portions prejudice, his calmness was as awful as his energy, of his representation of the crafty tyrant, were emiand he stood in his integrity, like an oak of the fo- nently dignified and graceful, and his superiority rest, which the storm may break, but cannot bend. over other performers in the confident dissimulaEven this, however, was inferior to the concen tion, and the bitter sarcasm of the character, is trated grief which marked the exclamation " Por- I acknowledged on all hands. Even those peculiari
I'll hear no more."
ties, and liabits, and tones of voice, which at first and the rejecting shake of his head and waving of startled and almost oflended, were converted by his hand, when she says, the force of his abilities into sources of pleasure.
....... We do pray for mercy,
And that same prayer doth teach us all The effect produced by the high-pitched tone of
To render the deeds of mercy." his voice in ihe opening speech was quite electric. Shakspeare bere makes Portia, in her zeal, quote During the first three lines
the Lord's Prayer, and enforce its divine precepts * Now is the winter of our discontent
as applicable to Shylock; but the great actor, by Made ytorvas summer by the sun of York;
And all the clouds that lower'd upon our house." his looks, and the movement of his head and hand, be was withoat motion, his hands hanging at ease; gives a comment on the text, by rejecting the apas the beginning of the fourth,
plication to himself or those of his belief. * In the deep bosom"
On the 18th of the same month, Mr. Cooke he lifted the right hand a little, with a gently personated Iago, a part in which he had no comweeping motion, and then turning the palm down- petitor. He had only to combat the recollection wards, be coplinued,
of Henderson, and those who bad seen that noble # of tbe ocean" ud made a short pause, then sinking his band (the
tragedian, pronounced bim bis legitimate succes
sor, while the younger part of the audience agreed palin parallel with the earth) and his voice at the
that they had never seen Iago until then. In the nume time, he finished the sentence by the word exhibition of every species of hypocrisy, Cooke
buried.” There was something absolutely terrible in his im- accused of betraying so much of the workings of
excelled all other players. In Iago he has been patient twitching at his sword during King Henry's cunning and deceit to the audience, that it appears speech, and previons to the exclamation,
wonderful how Othello could be deceived by him : No description can give an adequate idea of the
but it must be remembered, first, that it was to mitbering bitterness of sarcasm with which he said, the spectators, and not to Othello, that he betray* ........ The Tower?
ed the workings of his soul op his expressive Ay, the Tower --the Tower!”
countenance; and secondly, that Otbello, seeing y of his departure from the unfortunate Bucking through the jaundiced medium of jealousy, is not
capable of discovering, even in the eager and ob"I'm busy ---Thou troublest ine--l'm not i'th' vein." Riebard's scene in the fourth act
with Stanley, be-trusive suggestions of lago, any other motive than tin G10
his extreme love and bouesty. Cooke's peculiari
ties of manner and voice were singularly adapted Gloster .. Well, my lord, what is the news with you? stanley.. Richmond is on the sear, my lord.
to this part : while the quickness of his action, who can lorgel ibal ever heard Cooke throw bis and the strongly natural expression of feeling, soul into the overwhelming burst of passion at which were as exclusively his, identified him with Cluster. There let him sink, and be the seas on him! the character, and marked him as its true repre
Wbite-liver'd runagate, what does he there?
sentative. From the first scene of Iago to the Glater. Well, -s you guess?
last, bis excellence was of the highest order: we This last line, given in a manner so perfectly notice one passage by way of illustration. Othello, tootrasted with There let bim siok," yet with a convinced of Desdemona's infidelity, kneels to transition as natural as it was rapid, and the whole seal his purpose of revenge by a vow. Iago kneels intellect thrown into the sneering expression of with bim, and swears to assist in the execution of the face and tone of voice, said in the four words bis bloody purpose. They rise, and Othello says, sosh omitlerable things as defy language.
“Within these three days let me hear thee say, Cooke's acting throughout the last scenes was
That Cassio's not alive," mazingly coergetic; the horrors of the night pre- Cooke used then to start; and the spectator might teeling the battle, and the death of Richard, read plainly in his expressive face, “. What! Sese learfully depicted.
murder my friend and companion ?” he then coOn the 100 November following, Cooke perform-vered his face with his hands, and gradually listing ed Shylock for the first time before a London audi- bis head, when he withdrew his hands, his face ană ence. Nothing can be conceived more perfectly eyes were turned upwards: he then started again, The Jewibat Shakspeare drew,” than the voice, as if remembering the oath he had just taken, and face, manner, and expression of ibis great actor. after a second mental struggle, said, as if submitto the great scene of the third act, he was greeted ting to necessity, and the obligation imposed on with shouts of applause. The gloomy satisfaction him by bis vow, bet neemed to accompany the recollection of the
“My friend is dead." hond by which he had Antonio "on the bip,” and This unrivalled actor, died at New York, on the the savage exultation of his laugh when the full 26th of September, 1812, in bis 58th year ; the Emonat or his enemy's loss is stated, were fright- victim of a long course of brutalizing intemperfully impressive. The transitions were made in a
ance, which alone prevented him from attaining, aasterly manner, and the speech in which Shylock early in life, the first rank in bis profession. urges his owo wrongs and vindicates his tribe, formed a climax of as well wrought passion as can
MRS. PRITCHARD. be conceited. In the trial scene, the lodged whether of humour, wit, or mere sprightliness, was
“This lady's delivery of dialogue (says Davies) kate" of the impenetrable Israelite was kept con Startly in view. The audience were surprised and never surpassed, or perhaps equalled. Her fame defighted 24 the abruptness of bis reply to Por- daily increased from the eagerness with which the
taquest that he would permit the bond to be town flocked to see her in every new character. for. When it is paid according to the tenor," he Not confined to any one walk in acting, she ranged bestils rulics
, indicating a degree of apprehension through them all, and discovered a high degree of lent she should tear it; and at the same time, a ma
merit in whatever sbe undertook ; her tragic powligant recogoition of the penalty dae. In fact, ers were eminent, particularly in parts which rebe woole of this scene ever was, in Cooke's bands, quired force of expression and dignity of figure. buzilatle, and delies all competition. Cooke fre- She excelled as the Queen in Hamlet, and as fient threw
beauties into his performance which Queen Katharine in Henry VIII. ; but the characna tatizo in Shylock well remember the reverential Macbeth. She gave these parts importance by lesinge bis head, when, in Portia's speech ex
her action, as well as speaking; her few defects bering biso to m-rey, she comes to the line, proceeded from a too loud and profuse expression ** Irin alınbute of God bimself :"
of grief, and a want of grace in her manner ; but