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At its tail, when the excitement was at fever-heat, came the solitary figure of Hamlet, looking extraordinarily tall and thin, The lights were turned down–another stage trick–to help the effect that the figure was spirit rather than man. He was weary; his cloak trailed on the ground. He did not wear new ghd straighteners the miniature of his father obtrusively round his neck! His attitude was one which I have seen in a common little illustration to the “Reciter,” compiled by Dr. Pinch, Henry Irving’s old schoolmaster. Yet, h! Nothing could have been better when translated into life by Irving’s genius. The hair looked blue-black, like the plumage of a crow; the eyes burning–two fires veiled, as yet, by melancholy. But the appearance of the man was not single, straight, or obvious, as it is when I describe it, any more than his passions throughout the play were. I only remember when his intensity concentrated itself in a straightforward unmistakable emotion, without side-current or back water. It was when he said: The play’s the thing Wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the coloured ghds King and, as the curtain came down, was seen to be writing madly on his 69 AUTOBIOGRAPHY AUTOBIOGRAPHY “0 God, that I were a writer!” I paraphrase Beatrice with all my heart. Surely a writer could not string words together about Henry Irving’s Hamlet and say nothing, nothing. “We must start this play a living thing,” he used to say at rehearsals, and he worked until the skin grew tight over his face, until he became livid with fatigue, yet still beautiful, to get the opening lines said with individuality,lisseur ghd styler, suggestiveness, speed, and power: _Bernardo_: Who’s there? _Francisco_: Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself. _Bernardo_: Long live the king! _Francisco_: Bernardo? _Bernardo_: He. _Francisco_: You come most carefully upon your hour. _Bernardo_: ‘Tis now struck twelve: get thbed,hair stylers, Francisco. _Francisco_: For this relief much thanks: ‘t is bitter cold. And all that he tried to make others do with these lines he himself did with every line of his own part. Every word lived. Some said: “Oh, Irving only makes ‘Hamlet’ a love poem!” They said that, I suppose, because in the nunnery scene with Ophelia he was the lover above the prince and the poet. With what passionate longing his hands hovered over Ophelia at her words, “Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind!” THE SCENE WITH THE PLAYERS His advice to the players was not advice. He did not speak it as an actor. Nearly all Hamlets in that scene give away the fact that they are actors and not dilettanti of royal blood. Henry defined the way he would have the players speak as an order, an instruction of the merit of which he was regally sure. There was no patronising flavour in his acting here, not a touch of “I’11 teach you how to do it.” He was swift, swift and simple-pausing for the right word now and again, as in the phrase “to hold as ‘t were the mirror up to nature.” His slight pause and eloquent gesture, as the all embracing word “nature” came in answer to his call,hair straighteners reviews, were exactly repeated unconsciously, years later, by the Queen of Roumania (Carmen Slva). She was telling us the story of a play that she had written.

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