comes very early and abruptly on the scene before the audience is interested in her arrival, or has, indeed, got rid of the garish realities of the street.  But Miss Anderson’s appearance spoke for itself without any aid from the playwright.  The house, after a moment’s hesitation, broke out into sudden and quickly-growing applause, which was evidently a tribute not to the artist, but to the woman.  She understood this herself, and evidently enjoyed her triumph with a frank and girlish pleasure.  She had conquered her audience before opening her lips.  She is of rather tall stature, a figure slight but perfectly modeled, her well-shaped head dressed Greek fashion with the simple knot behind, her arms, which the Greek costume displayed to the shoulder, long, white, and of a roundness seldom attained so early in life, her walk and all her attitudes consummately graceful and expressive.  A more general form of disparagement is that which pretends to account for all Miss Anderson’s popularity by her beauty.  It is her beauty, these people say, not her acting, that draws the crowd.  We suspect the fact to be that Miss Anderson’s uncommon beauty is rather a hindrance than a help to the perception of her real dramatic merits.  People do not easily believe that one and the same person can be distinguished in the highest degree by different and independent excellences.  They find it easier to make one of the excellences do duty for both.  Miss Anderson, it may be admitted, is not a Sarah Bernhardt.  At the same time we must observe that at twenty-three the incomparable Sarah was not the consummate artist that she is now, and has been for many years.  We are not at all inclined to rank Miss Anderson as an actress at a lower level than the very high one of Miss Helen Faucit, of whose Antigone she reminded us in several passages last night.  Miss Faucit was more statuesque in her poses, more classical, and, perhaps, touched occasionally a more profoundly pathetic chord.  But the balance is redeemed by other qualities of Miss Anderson’s acting, quite apart from all consideration of personal beauty.

“‘Ingomar,’ it must be said, is a mere melodrama, and as such does not afford the highest test of an actor’s capacity.  The wonder is that Miss Anderson makes so much of it.  In her hands it was really a stirring and very effective play.”

Dublin Daily Express, 28th March, 1884.

“MISS ANDERSON AS GALATEA.

“Nothing that the sculptor’s art could create could be more beautiful than the still figure of Galatea, in classic pose, with gracefully flowing robes, looking down from her pedestal on the hands that have given her form, and it is not too much to say that nothing could be added to render more perfect the illusion.  The whole pose—­her aspect, the contour of her head, the exquisite turn of the stately throat, the faultless symmetry of shoulder and arms—­everything is in keeping with the realization of the most perfect, most beautiful,