Abstract
The costume-black, of course-consists of a tunic with white cuffs and a white ruffled collar, a pendant (a medallion, or perhaps the holding place for the kings' portraits) hanging around his neck on a wide pale-blue ribbon, and knickers, below which one stocking is falling down to indicate, apropos of Ophelia's description, Hamlet's disheveled appearance, and exposing a well-muscled calf. The Queen's draped white dress is clingy, revealing a sensually curvy figure and rounded thighs; her left arm is outstretched as if to ward Hamlet off, but the gesture is so weak it looks as though she is gently brushing arms with him instead. Thomas Gilliland gushes in Dramatic Synopsis (1804), "perhaps the vigour of her genius was never so thoroughly shewn as in her performance of Hamlet," remarking that as Hamlet she had ample room for the display of her uncommon powers . . . her pathos appeared so natural, and her maimer appeared so easy and unaffected, that an auditor might have supposed she had simply learned the words of the part by rote, and relied upon the feelings of the moment to prompt her to deliver them with truth and propriety.5 But Leigh Hunt sharply dissents in Critical Essays on the Performers of the London Theatres (1807), where he snaps, "What honest critic . . . could refrain from giving Mrs. Powell some advice on her frequent whim of assuming the character of Hamlet?" and proceeds to ridicule her as mad for even thinking she could conceivably take on the role. Amy Muse is an associate professor of English at the University of St. Thomas in Minnesota whose research is focused on Romantic-era drama, theatre culture, and performance studies.