With a player so variable as Salvini, who trusts to the feelings of the moment for so much detail, and who, night after night, does the same thing differently but always well, it can never be safe to pass judgment after a single hearing.

And this is more particularly true of last week's _Macbeth_; for the whole third act was marred by a grievously humorous misadventure.

Several minutes too soon the ghost of Banquo joined the party, and after having sat helpless a while at a table, was ignominiously withdrawn.

Twice was this ghostly Jack-in-the-box obtruded on the stage before his time; twice removed again; and yet he showed so little hurry when he was really wanted, that, after an awkward pause, Macbeth had to begin his apostrophe to empty air.
The arrival of the belated spectre in the middle, with a jerk that made him nod all over, was the last accident in the chapter, and worthily topped the whole.

It may be imagined how lamely matters went throughout these cross purposes.
In spite of this, and some other hitches, Salvini's Macbeth had an emphatic success.