FECHTER, at Niblo's Garden, is an insoluble mystery. She must have
perceived the absurdity of drowning herself for a Prince--fair, fat, and
faulty--who refused to give her a share of his "loaf," and denied, with
an evident eye to a possible breach of promise suit, that he had given
her any "bresents."

That Mr. FECHTER speaks English imperfectly is, however, the least of
his defects. If he could not speak at all, his audience would have
reason for self-congratulation. We might, too, forget that he is an
obese, round-shouldered, short-necked, and eminently beery HAMLET, with
a tendency to speak through his nose. But how can we overlook his
incapacity to express the subtle changes of HAMLET'S ever questioning
mind? One of his admirers has recently quoted RUSKIN in his support. MR.
FECHTER gives no heed to RUSKIN'S axiom, that all true art is delicate
art. There is no delicacy in his conception of HAMLET. True, he is
impulsive and sensitive; but this is due to his physical and not to his
mental organization. A HAMLET without delicacy is quite as intolerable a
spectacle as a _Grande Duchesse_ without decency.

What, then, has given him his reputation? The answer is evident;--His
yellow wig. NAPOLEON gilded the dome of the _Invalides_, and the
Parisians forgot to murmur at the arbitrary acts of his reign. Mr.
FECHTER crowns himself with a golden wig, and the public forgets to
murmur at the five acts of his HAMLET.

In all other respects Mr. FECHTER'S HAMLET is inferior to that of his
rival Mr. FOX. It is not nearly as funny, and it is much less
impressive. Both actors are wrong, however, in not omitting the
graveyard scene. To make a burlesque of Death is to unlawfully invade
the province of Messrs. BEECHER and FROTHINGHAM.