Antony in Julius Cæsar.
Mr. Barry beyond doubt stands foremost in our approbation for this part, as possessing an adequate figure, an harmonious voice, and all the plausibility of insinuation that Shakspeare meant; however, we think that critic an enthusiastic admirer, who, speaking of him in the Rostrum, exclaimed that Paul never preached so well at Athens.[C] It is certain, nature in this, as well as in all his dramatic undertakings, furnished him with irresistible recommendations.
Varanes in Theodosius, or the Force of Love.
Varanes, who was most the object of our author's attention, is an odd medley of love and pride; now he will, then will not; tender, impatient; in short a romantic madman; yet notwithstanding inconsistencies of a glaring nature, he is a dramatic personage highly interesting. Mr. Barry must, in imagination, to those who are at all acquainted with his performance, fill up every idea of excellence in this character: his love was enchanting, his rage alarming, his grief melting: even now, though overtaken by time, and impaired in constitution, he has not the shadow of a competitor. The rheumatic stiffness of his joints has been industriously trumpeted forth, and every mean art made use of to lower him in public opinion; yet true it is that if he hobbled upon stilts, he would be better than many persons, in his style, upon their best legs. A gentleman of acknowledged judgment lately made the following just and striking similitude: that Mr. Barry was like the time-worn ruins of Palmyra and Balbec, which even in a fallen state show more dignity and real beauty, than the most complete productions of modern architecture.[D]
In Altamont in The Fair Penitent.
After observing that this character lies a dead weight upon the play, this great critic says, "We remember Mr. Barry, by exertion of singular merit, making Altamont as respectable as any other character in the piece, though Mr. Garrick did Lothario and Mr. Sheridan Horatio on the same occasion. Indeed he so much outfigured all competitors and illustrated so beautifully a character scarce known before, that he appeared to great advantage."
Othello.
"If any performer ever was born for one part in particular it must have been Mr. Barry for the Moor: his figure was a good apology for Desdemona's attachment, and the harmony of his voice to tell such a tale as he describes, must have raised favourable prejudice in any one who had an ear, or a heart to feel. There is a length of periods and an extravagance of passion in this part, not to be found in any other for so many successive scenes, to which Mr. Barry appeared peculiarly suitable. He happily exhibited the hero, the lover, and the distracted husband; he rose through all the passions to the utmost extent of critical imagination, yet still appeared to leave an unexhausted fund of expression behind; his rage and tenderness were equally interesting, but when he uttered the words "rude am I in my speech," in tones as soft as feathered snow that melted as they fell, we could by no means allow the sound an echo to the sense."
To these extracts we will add one from the life of the celebrated John Palmer, already mentioned, in the Thespian dictionary.