Ambition and revenge have none of the delicacies of love; they proceed upon more marked, more decided evidence, and when ambition and revenge are satisfied, all is over. Love when gratified, has a thousand whims in view; it is playful, changeable, whimsical, and inconsistent. Love is therefore the passion that affords to the drama the greatest variety. The disposition of the audience also is more favourable to love-plots, than the display of any other passion, Is there not more love in the world, than ambition and revenge? SECTION XV. SINGULAR OR TRUE IN THE PASSIONS CONTINUED. Singularity, or the strange and whimsical turn in the passions is more apt to please in description, or representation, than the mere violence of the passions; for the former discovers to us something new, and this " something new" is of more value, than mere violence, but both may be united, and indeed the singular turn serves to shew the violence of the passion. Hence love, which abounds in singular turns, must afford more ample matter for the stage than ambition or revenge. Love will fill a whole play. A person who feels no passion but love, will fill up a whole play, as Ariane, Berenicé, &c. but a character of mere ambition cannot furnish matter for a whole play, like Love for Love, abundant and fertile in various sentiments. Thus we have treated of the first three qualities requisite to employ the mind, namely, The fourth is, 1. Importance of subject. 2. Novelty. 3. Singular turn of passion. Something rare in the kind. GARRICK. Ir was said, in the account which we gave of this great actor, in Number V. (New Series) that his excellence resulted from incessant observation, as well as from the powerful workings of his own genius. He knew, and nobody can know better, that as acting is an imitative art, the professors of it cannot be too well acquainted with human nature in all its various classes. Hence nothing escaped his attention, and every thing was treasured in his memory. Mr. Murphy gives us an interesting relation of the manner in which Garrick acquired his wonderful skill in pourtraying madness, as observable in his performance of Lear; but this great actor was not contented with imitating nature, merely as she presented herself, for he often resorted to whimsical expedients in order to set the passions into action. An odd incident of this kind, arising from original humour, has been related before, but never correctly. Having occasion to go into the city with his friends, Mr. Windham, the father of Mr. Windham, late member for Norfolk, and Dr. Monsey, a well-known character of that time, Garrick suddenly separated from his companions as they were returning through St. Paul's Church-yard, and, walking into the middle of the road, to a place where there was no danger of interruption from carriages, he directed his view towards the sky, and remained fixed in a musing posture, uttering, at times, "I never saw two before." This strange appearance naturally induced people to approach him, and to enquire what was the object of his attention; more of course followed, until a large crowd was collected. Garrick continued to repeat the same words, but made no answer to any questions. Various were the conjectures of the people, but no satisfactory solution occured. At length a man observed, that the gentleman was certainly looking at two storks, as it was an extraordinary circumstance for more than one bird of that species to be seen at a time. This explanation was well received, until somebody asked, who but the gentleman himself saw even a single stork. The multitude was at last so great, that Dr. Monsey and Mr. Windham, apprehensive they might be taken for confederates in a plot to make fools, thought proper to retreat from the scene of action. Garrick did not practice this whimsical trick for the mere purpose of wanton merriment, as he contrived, in the midst of his apparent abstraction, to turn his quick and penetrating eyes in all directions, and in the multitude that surrounded him saw a variety of attitudes and expressions of character, which he treasured in his pregnant mind, in order to render them subservient to his art. The great difficulty was to retire from this crowd, without exciting suspicion, and being exposed to the danger of resentment; but he conducted himself with so much skill and address, that he left them under the full impression of that curiosity, surprise and consternation which he originally intended to excite. On another occasion he rushed among a number of boys who had just been released from school, and were in the height of their play. Pretending to believe that one of them was ill-treated by the rest, he took the part of the supposed victim of oppression, and severely rebuked his companions. The boy declared that nobody had offended him, and Garrick made this innocent disavowal an additional ground of censure against them, for having injured a boy of so kind a disposition, who with such amiable solicitude endeavoured to save them from reproach. It may be thought that this was an action unworthy of such a man as Garrick; but he well knew that “men are but children of a larger growth," and from the unaffected expressions of this infantile group, was able to collect many striking features of character, and genuine traces of nature. Another time, as he was going down the Strand, near Somerset-House, with his friend Monsey, a porter was tripping along, and whistling, with every indication of careless good spirits. Garrick told his friend that he would draw a crowd round the man before he reached Temple Bar. For this purpose he went forward, and contrived to attract the notice of the lively porter, and gave him such a marking look with his expressive features, that the man's disposition was changed in a moment. He followed Garrick with eyes attentively fixed. Garrick found means to stop till the man came near him, when he looked at him again with a new expression, and proceeded in this manner, hastily departing every time the man approached. At length the poor fellow twisted and turned himself in all directions, in order to see if there was any thing attached to his dress that excited attention, pulling off his wig with the same view, and asking all persons near him, if any thing was the matter with him, that induced the gentleman before him to notice him in so extraordinary a manner, till at length Garrick had fully effected his purpose, in seeing a crowd about the man. Many other ludicrous circumstances of the same kind might be related, but perhaps they would be deemed trifling, if they were not the effect of an incessant attention to his art, as well as the overflowings of a disposition strongly prone to frolic and humour. Garrick maintained, that though exquisite sensibility was ne cessary in an actor, yet that, in order to imitate the passions, in such a manner as to impress an audience, it was equally necesG-VOL. 11.* sary that he should obtain the entire command of his feelings, lest they should obstruct the operation of his talents. Hence he could control his affections upon occasions of the most distressing or the most ludicrous kind, and either devise the best expedient for turning aside the current of grief, or restraining his mirth till he could give way to it without offence. A remarkable instance of the latter description occured, when a young man offered himself as a candidate for the stage, who could not begin to speak without a considerable impediment of convulsive stammering. Garrick quietly testified his surprise that a person should think of the stage with such an unfortunate obstruction. The adventurer declared that though he was always oppressed in that manner at the beginning of a speech, he could proceed tolerably well afterwards. Having gently dismissed this singular candidate, Garrick, who was bursting with laughter, did not give way to his feelings, till the young man was gone, and then he indulged himself in a full enjoyment of his mirth. No apology can be necessary for these apparently trifling incidents, in the life of so extraordinary a man as Mr. Garrick. We shall conclude with the following original anecdote, as a testimony in favour of his skill as an actor, from one not very ready to treat him with admiration, respect, or even common de cency. The celebrated Mrs. Clive was an actress of considerable repute in London, long before Garrick appeared upon the stage. When his genius broke forth in the metropolis, every other performer sunk at once into the shade, and Mrs. Clive, as well as the rest, with all her original merit, fell into comparative insignificance. Her temper was violent, and her manners coarse. She always vented her spleen without restraint upon Garrick, and even affected to deny his merit as an actor. One night, while he was performing Lear, she stood behind the scenes, attending to his performance. Unable, with all her masculine roughness of character, to resist the pathetic touches of his skill, she remained fixed on the spot, sobbing, and abusing him at the same moment; at length, after repeated alternations of tears and curses, wholly overcome by the affecting powers of the great actor before her, she hastily rushed from the place, with the fol lowing strange, but expressive tribute to the universality of his skill-“ D———n him, I believe he could act a gridiron.” i ON BENEFITS. “Good you my Lord, will you see the players well bestowed? Do you hear? let them be well used; for they are the abstract and brief chronicles of the time." HAMLET. MR. EDITOR, So great was my anxiety to read a complete refutation of the objections to benefits, which were urged by my mercantile friends, that I had, several days before the expiration of the last month, requested my bookseller (as a very particular favour) to send me the Mirror immediately it was published; and I had even bribed his boy to neglect every other customer, and fly from his master's shop to my habitation, with all the speed of a winged Mercury:I trembled with joy, whilst dividing the leaves, and expected the pleasure of reading (at least) three or four long letters from some of my literary theatrical friends, demonstrating that the custom of having annual benefits was compatible with fair pretensions to respectability. Judge then of my surprise and sorrow, when I beheld merely the short and cynical remarks of your very grave correspondent Cato, who has treated me with so little ceremony, and my theatrical friends with so much barbarity. If you have compassion for the unfortunate, sympathize with me in my sufferings.-However, I can bear with temper the severity of the appellations he has applied to me. He may say, if he pleases, I am "the greatest fool he ever met with, or that I am no little rogue." My reputation and fame is, comparatively, of little consequence;-had this been the extremity of his malice, I had endured it without reply; but when my nearest and dearest friends are traduced, unused as I am to controversy, I feel an irresistible impulse to write, and "what I can do, can do no hurt to try." I hate every thing accompanied with a sneer-let those who write, act openly-masquerading in literature is not commendable.—“ A benefit to them is the bonus on their stock, the harvest of their field; and the mode of claiming this bonus, or of getting in this harvest, though it might be thought derogatory in other professions, throws no odium on theirs.-What honour they had before, they have still, with the money into the bargain.” Did you ever meet with such a serious libel, and contained in so few words?" O, it is monstrous! monstrous!" The objections of my friends, the merchants, are palatable as "the milk of hu |