striking, but it soon passes away. If we saw a Garrick acting
Shakspeare in a large hall, without any scenes, we should cease in a
few minutes to be sensible of the want of them. We are almost disposed
to believe, that exactly in proportion as scenery has been improved,
good acting has declined.

The present age is too much inclined to make human life, in every
department, resemble a great lottery, in which there are a very few
enormous prizes, and all the rest of the tickets are blanks. The
stage has not escaped the evil we complain of; on the contrary, it is
a striking instance of the mischief of this unequal partition. The
public are of opinion, that it is impossible to reward a small number
of actors too highly, and to pay the remainder at too low a rate;
to neglect the latter enough, or to be sufficiently attentive to the
former. On our stage, therefore, the inferior parts, and indeed all
but one or two, and especially in tragedies, where the inequality
is more intolerable, and more inexcusable, are sustained in a
very inadequate manner. In foreign theatres, on the contrary, and
especially in France, the whole performance is more equal, and
consequently more agreeable. There is perhaps less difference than is
commonly supposed between the best performers and those in the next
class. Whatever the difference be, it is an inconvenience and an
imperfection that ought to be palliated; but we aggravate it. The
first-rate actor always does his best, because the audience expect it,
and reward him with their applause; but no one cares for, or observes,
the performer of second-rate talents: whether he be perfect in his
part, and exert himself to the utmost, or be slovenly and negligent
throughout, he is unpraised and unblamed. The general effect,
therefore, of our tragedies, is very unsatisfactory; for that is far
greater, where all the characters are tolerably well supported, than