she seems to us perfectly to render the part. She does not make it
more than it is, but she makes it just what it is--a proud, injured,
and betrayed actress. Whether the accuracy of her imitation is not
justified by the intention, which alone can redeem imitation, will
remain a question to each spectator. Mrs. Jameson also insists that
Rachel's power is extraneous, and excites only the senses and the
intellect, and that she has become a hard mannerist.

In our remarks upon this celebrated actress we have viewed her simply
as an artist, and not as a woman. She appeals to the public only in
that way. Perhaps the sinister stories that are told of her private
career only serve to confirm and deepen the feeling of the intensity
of her nature, she so skilfully represents the most fearful passions,
not from the perception of genius alone, but from the knowledge of
actual experience. Certainly no woman's character has been more freely
discussed, and no public performer of any kind ever sought so little
to propitiate her audience. She has seemed to scorn the world she
fascinated; and like a superb snake, with glittering eyes and cold
crest, to gloat over the terror which held her captives thrall. Hence
it is not surprising to one who has seen her a great deal, and has
felt the peculiarity of her power, to find in Lehmann's portrait of
her--which is, perhaps, the most characteristic of all that have been
taken--a subtle resemblance to a serpent, which is at once fascinating
and startling. Mrs. Jameson mentions that when she first saw her in
Hermione, she was reminded of a Lamia, or serpent nature in woman's
form. As you look at Lehmann's portrait this feeling is irresistible.
The head bends slightly forward, with a darting, eager movement, yet
with a fine, lithe grace. The keen, bright eyes glance a little
askance, with a want of free confidence. There are a slim smoothness,
a silent alertness, in the general impression--a nervous, susceptible