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1885.] causes. For the number of those who really consider him a great actor is very limited. His marked defects of voice, gesture, and bearing, his limited comprehension of what is possible and not possible, and the undisguisable individuality which makes him always Irving, whether his supposed character be Shlylock or Romeo, are almost universally acknowledged. And yet there is no one else whose position is so strong, or whose efforts are met with the same unfailing response. We may not like him, but we must see him in whatever he does. The weekly critics have exhausted the language in explaining why, in setting forth his conscientious effort, his high aim, when they could not lay claim on his behalf either to artistic success or any legitimate claim to success. But a high aim is not enough to secure the strong and continual following which Mr Irving undoubtedly possesses. There is something, nay, much, in that heroic self-assertion which is so potent in this age, and in that pertinacious temperament which never relinquishes its claim, but which is capable of going on saying, "I am Sir Oracle," even when all the dogs bark. This, and the excellence of all the properties, the splendour of the spectacles which have come to be necessary to our present conception of the histrionic art, and last, though not least, the grace and attraction of Miss Terry, who, if somewhat weak in Shakespeare, is always so graceful, so harmonious, even in her mannerisms – have doubtless much to do with a success which, without being altogether undeserved, is unquestionably much beyond the deserts of this actor as an individual. Mr Irving, however, is but an illustration of one of the most curious peculiarities of public appreciation in our time, in which, as Mr Puff says, "the unanimity is wonderful when they do agree."