and their elegant
comedy suffered by too volatile an airiness. She bestowed upon our
immortal Garrick, the most decided preference, and superiority to any
actor whom she had ever seen. The opportunity which she had of judging
of his powers, was short, and singular, but fully enabled her to form a
decisive opinion. When Garrick visited Paris for the last time, she was
just married. This celebrated actor had letters of introduction to
Monsieur S----. At a large party, which Monsieur S---- formed for the
purpose of doing honour to his distinguished visitor, he exhibited
several specimens of his unrivalled talents. Amongst others, he
represented in dumb show, by the wonderful powers of his expressive
countenance, the feelings of a father, who in looking over a lofty
balcony with his only child in his arms, by accident dropped it. The
disaster drove the unhappy parent mad. Garrick had visited him in his
cell; where the miserable maniac was accustomed, several times in the
course of the day, to exhibit all those looks and attitudes which he
had displayed at the balcony[9]. On a sudden he would bend himself
forward, as if looking from a window into the street, with his arms
folded as if they embraced a child, then he would start back, and appear
as if he had lost something, search the room round and round, run again
forward, as to the railing of a window, look down, and beat his
forehead, as if he had beheld his infant bleeding, and breathless upon
the pavement. Garrick's imitation was exquisite. The feelings of his
beholders were wrought up to horror. The tears, and consternation of a
gay fashionable french party, were applauses more flattering to the
british Roscius, than the thunder of that acclamation, which, in the
crowded theatre, followed the flash of his fiery eye, or the close of
his appalling speech.

[9] The cause which induced Garrick to visit this unhappy person was, it
is said, to render the representation of his King Lear more perfect.

The english drama, however, has not escaped the animadversions of a
french critic, whose taste and liberality are not very congenial with
those of my charming, and generous friend. "Their tragedies," he says,
(speaking of the english) "it is true, though interesting, and replete
with beauties, are nevertheless dramatic monsters, half _butchery_, and
half _farce_. Grotesque characters, and extravagant pleasantry
constitute the chief part of their comedies. In one of them, (not n