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reriormeis oi ine i^onaon i neaires. 
 Bannister, Munden, Fawcet,Liston,3 
 Elliston, ^Irs. Siddons, Mrs. Jord; 
 Melton, &c., &c., first edition, 
 original bds, uncut, ^i 17s 
 
 'VI 
 
CRITICAL ESSAYS, 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 It xias not till after the title-page of the present 
 icork had been engraied, that the author had 
 any intention of quitting the News; but he 
 now urites exclusiielj/ Jor the paper called the 
 Examiner, if uhich the reader may see a 
 prospectus at the end of the Tvlume. It xvas 
 nrcessaij/ to state this, that he might nut 
 commence his uork xiith an utter fahhood. 
 
( UITICAL ESSAYS 
 
 ON THE \ 
 
 PERFOR31ERS OF THE IX)NlX)Isr THEATW^, 
 
 INCIATUING 
 
 (;KNER AI . OB SERVATIONS 
 OX THK fRACTISE ANli (iEXIUS OF THE STAGE. 
 
 BT TH£ AUTHOH OF THE THEATRICAL CRITlCISJIp rST 
 THE VTEEKLY PAPER CALLED THE ITE'WS. 
 
 ■' .'^rk ~ 
 
 Res^ricfix^ esseuipL'ir Mta? nnx-iuiitjiio ,]\il)ol)() 
 
 Dortinii iniilatoi-cm, et vcr-as }iii\f cliicero votvs. 
 
 IIOKACE. 
 
 LOXDOX. 
 
 PRINTED BY AXD KOK JOllS HIlNT, AT THE OFFICE 
 
 OF THE jn>:WS, 2(5,BRVDGESSTREET, STR.VXU. 
 
 1807. 
 
^/AST)^ 
 
 V 
 

 TO 
 
 . MR. JOHN HUNT, 
 
 AT WHOSE SUGGESTION IT WAS ATTEMPTED, 
 THE FOLLOWING WORK IS 
 
 INSCRIBED, 
 
 BY HIS AFFECTIONATE BROTHER, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 It will be pardoned me if I speak a little of 
 myself, when I am going to say so. much about 
 others. If I have not been long intimate 
 with theatrical affairs, I have endeavoured 
 to crivc them no slight attention. The first 
 time I ever saw a p^ay was in March 
 ISOO; it was the Egyptian Festival of one 
 Mr. Franklin : the scenery enchanted 
 me, and I went home v^ itli the hearty 
 jollity of Mr. Bannister laughing all the 
 way before me. After that I was present 
 at the comedies of Mii. Reynolds and of 
 Mr. Dibdin, and I laughed very heai-til}^ 
 at the grimaces of the actors; but somehow 
 or another I never recollected a word of the 
 dialogue. Any schoolboy, who had been 
 accustomed to nothing but natural objects, 
 
\t PREFACE. 
 
 would liave admired these comedies just in 
 the same way. Admirable indeed as they 
 were, they struck me with very peculiar 
 sensations. Ii was not that I wished them 
 to be like the productions of Terence, who 
 had afflicted me, or of Aristophanes, who 
 had made me sick; but I had been accustom- 
 ed to fancy that the comedies of Beaumont 
 and Fletcher, of CoNGREVE,and of Sheri- 
 dan, as far as genius was concerned, were 
 the true models of writing. I listened how- 
 ever with attention to the new dramas ; I 
 listened to the applauses of the theatre ; and 
 I began to examine whether Mr. Reynolds 
 and INIr. Died in were not the true comic 
 writers. It Avas then that I discovered what 
 excellent actors we possessed. 
 
 If any man, not very fond of music, will 
 reflect a little between the acts of one of the 
 modern comedies, he will find that his chief 
 cntertaiiunent has arisen from the actors 
 totally abstracted from ihe author. The 
 phrases, the sentiments, the fancies will 
 appear to his reason very monotonous and in- 
 
PREFACE. VU 
 
 efficient, when separated from the grins of 
 MuNDEN and the chatterings of Fawcett. 
 By degrees, he will imagine that these actors 
 would make almost any phrases equally 
 facetious. In short, he is very soon convin- 
 ced, that the monosyllable j/e^ is as admirable 
 a piece of humour in Mr. Munden's mouth, 
 as any other touch of rhetoric in modern 
 comedy. 
 
 The authors know this as well as any body. 
 The habit of recommending the most un- 
 meaning dialogue with the most powerful 
 expression is a great injury to the proprict}', 
 and ultimately to the judgment, of an actor ; 
 but it is of the greatest use to the dramatist, 
 and accordingly his principal design in form- 
 ing a character is to adapt it to that peculiar 
 style of the actor, which the huge farces have 
 rendered necessary to their existence. If 
 there is a countryman, it must be adapted to 
 Emery ; if an Irishman, to Johnstone ; if a 
 gabbling humourist, it must be copied from 
 nothing but the manner of Fawcett. Not to 
 ni_eRtion therefore that all the countrymen, and 
 
VIll PREFACE. 
 
 all the Irishmen, and all the gabbling humour- 
 ists arc alike, the author becomes a mere de- 
 pendant on the jilayer. The loss of Lewis, for 
 instance, whose caietv of limb is of so much 
 benefit to modern comedy, would be a per- 
 fect rheumatism to IMr. Reynolds ; and 
 the loss of MuNDEN, who gives it such an 
 agreeable variety of grin, would afl'cct hira 
 little less than a lock-jaw. 
 
 It was this strange superiority of the mi- 
 metic over the literary part of the stage, of 
 the organ in fact over it's inspirer, that de- 
 termined me to criticise the actors. I in- 
 tended at first to go through the entire list 
 of both the theatres, and it was not till 
 the tragic section had been printed, liiat I 
 discovered the nameless nudtitrde which this 
 })lan would have compelled me to indivi- 
 dualize. I am sorry that I did not conr>ider 
 this objection sooner, as there are two or 
 three essays under the lu-ad of tnigedy, 
 which I might have spared the reader. The 
 second and third sections howevv-r are con- 
 fmed to those performers, wiiom I regafvicd 
 
JRErACE. IX 
 
 as the possessors of some exclusive origin- 
 -ality. Somebody perhaps will still miss 
 his favourite king or his favourite foot- 
 man ; but I have endeavoured to criticise 
 those only who deserve applause, not those 
 who mercl}' obtain it. The work was 
 written by starts and snatches in the midst 
 of better subjects of meditation ; but 1 
 was induced to continue it, parti}' by the 
 originality of an enlarged cri'icism on tiie 
 theatre, and principally b\- the hope of ex- 
 citing an honourable ambition in the actors, 
 M'ho have hitherto been the subjects of mere 
 scandal, or at best of the most partial levity. 
 Criticism written with this levity serves 
 merely to confirm the actor in a kind of 
 hopelessness of respect. It cannot, I allow, 
 be denied, that the profession of the stage 
 has been brought into disgrace by the li\cs 
 of it's members; but this verv disijrace has 
 become one cause of the moral iit-giigence of 
 actors : the social nature of their errors con- 
 founds the fault with it's power of pleasing ; 
 the foolish and dissipated arc delighted ta 
 
« PEKFACE. 
 
 find tliemsclvcs at their ease in the company 
 of tlie most public satirists, and tlnis tlic 
 actors become indentificd with the most con- 
 temptible men, whose habits they ridicule on 
 the stage merely to practise with more fami- 
 liar imitation in private. 
 
 As to tlic contempt that has been cast 
 upon histrionic genius, it is not worthy 
 an argument. If the knowledge of our- 
 selves he the height of wisdom, is that art 
 coiiteni})t-blc v>-hich conveys this knowledge 
 to us in the most pleasing manner ? If the 
 actor is greatly inferior to the true dramatist, 
 if he merely tells others what has been told 
 himself, does the officer deserve no jr.-aise 
 who issues the instructions of his aoiicral 
 with accuracy, with spirit, with an ardour 
 that shews he feels them ? For my j^art, I 
 Jiave the greatest respect for ;in art wliich 
 has been admired b}- the greatest critics 
 ancient and modern, which Horace did not 
 think it beneath his genius to advise, Addi- 
 son to recommend, and Voltaire to prac- 
 tise, as well as protect. That genius cannot 
 
PREFACE. XI 
 
 be despicable in the eyes of the most ardent 
 for fame, which without any thing to shew 
 to posterity for it's reason, has handed down 
 to us the memory of ^sop, Roscius, Barok, 
 and Le Couvreur, and which will transmit 
 to our descendants the names of Garrick, 
 of Oldfield, and of Siddons. If suc!i an 
 art were divested of it's instruction, it would 
 still be honom'able for it's imitation of na- 
 ture. It becomes mean, only when it dege- 
 nerates into utter fiirce. Of a mere mimic 
 indeed the praise seems to be little above; 
 that of an accomplished ape. Such an actor 
 is confined to surfaces and externals; he 
 possesses a kind of active acknowledgment 
 of another's hab.ts, tliat seems to exist in his 
 powers of motion without any reference to 
 the intellect : he imitates bv this sympathy 
 without the least pretensions to genius, just 
 as musical instruments sound at the touch 
 of corresponding keys. It is thus, that 
 natives of New South \^'ales, who are the 
 most stupid and untractable of mankind, 
 mimic the personal peculiarities of the set- 
 tlers to a fac-siraile. 
 
;fcn rum ACE. 
 
 MulIi has been said of the immoral exam- 
 ple of the characters and "phi^s performed; I)iit 
 the managers, \vlio are sometimes actors also, 
 have ahvays the power to remedy such an 
 evil, by correcting- their authors for repre- 
 sentation ; and it is in consideration of this 
 duty, that I have felt the less scruple in recom- 
 mending our old comedies to public perform- 
 ance. The managers certainly will not jire- 
 tend too humble a respect for the authors, 
 M-hen thev so often neglect the beauties as 
 Mcll as faults of our greatest ^vriters for the 
 utter deformity of the modern drama. And 
 what is such a respect, v hen vice is it's ob- 
 ject ? If the genius of the plav rests entirely 
 upon it's immorality, it cannot be wonii the 
 performance ; if it does not, how can a 
 drama lose an}- of it's beauties, by tiic 
 absence of the worst of faults? '"^ 
 
 * IMr. Kemble niiglit liave reasoned a little in (liis 
 manner, witiiout any peeuliar (ictiiment to liis oiij;inality 
 or precision of thinkinar, when he re»ived Dbyden's alter- 
 aUon of the Tempest. — See a critieism on thi* revi.al ex- 
 ifracttd from the N'evs, in the .\j)p::ndi\ tu this wtu k, \t. :'.0. 
 
PRErACE. 
 
 In fact, the perpetual representation of 
 these wretched dramas, Avhicli are called new 
 without the least pretension to originality, is 
 not only hurtful to the immediate reputa- 
 tion of the actors, but to their fame and 
 memory with succeeding ages. An actor 
 almost entirely depends upon the dramatist 
 for his future name, he leaves nothing either 
 to the eyes of posterity, hke the poet and the 
 painter, or to their ears, like the musician : 
 even if his remembrance outlives his poet, 
 it is little better than an Egyptian hierogly- 
 phic, which the writer, who gave it meaning, 
 has left nothing to explain. I do not a little 
 regret therefore, that I have been compelled 
 to draw examples of good acting from the 
 worst dramas. The performer indeed never 
 shews himself to more advantage than in, 
 giving brilliancy to dulness ; but if he is 
 always occupied Avith this task, he shares the 
 danger of the manufacturer, who in polishing 
 certain metals breathes an air that is his 
 ultimate destruction. 
 
 U^on so perishable a subject, I cannot 
 
enjoy the hope of talking to other times ; it 
 "wiil be enough for me, if I do them any ser- 
 vice by assisting the improvement of my 
 own. It is this consideration that luis al- 
 ways encouraged me to exercise my best 
 powers, such as they are, against the bar- 
 barities of modern comedy. Succeeding 
 ages very often acquire an unconscious tone 
 from the most trifling exertions. Like the 
 child who was awakened every morning by 
 his father's flute, they rise in the calm pos- 
 session of their powers, unconscious of the 
 favourable impulse that has been given 
 them. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 SECTION I.— Tragedy. 
 
 Page 
 
 Essay on the Representation of Tragedy I 
 
 Mr. Kemble 5 
 
 Mrs. SiDDONs l6 
 
 Mr. Pope 22 
 
 Mr. Raymond 29 
 
 Mr. Henry Siddons 33 
 
 INIr. Henry Johnston 36 
 
 Mr. Murray 42 
 
 Mrs. Powell 44 
 
 SECTION II.— Comedy. 
 
 Essay on the Representation of Comedy 4S 
 
 Mr. Bannister 60 
 
 Mr. Leavis 74 
 
 INIr. Munden 81 
 
 Mr. Faavcett S7 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Essay on i\l u . S i :m m o n s t)4 
 
 Mil. l.iSTox <)7 
 
 Mu. Kmehv 104 
 
 Mr. Wewitzer 1 15 
 
 yiii. JoiixsToxE lis 
 
 JNIr. BLANCiiAun iQ'2 
 
 Mr. Dowtox 125 
 
 Mr. IMatheavs 133 
 
 — JNIiss Pope 142 
 
 Mrs. Mattocks 150 
 
 Miss Mellon 156 
 
 3Irs. Jordan l6l 
 
 -Miss Duncan 170 
 
 SECTION III. — Tragedy and Comedy. 
 
 Essay on Mr. Elliston 160 
 
 Mrs. Henry Siddons C04 
 
 Miss Smith Oil 
 
 iMr. Cooke OlO 
 
 Mr. Charles Kemble i^3 
 
 Al'PENDlX. 
 
 Index. 
 
CRITICAL ESSAYS. 
 
 SECTION I.— TRAGEDY. 
 
 The dr;iiiia is the inoit perfect imitation of 
 human lite ; by means of tlie sta^e it represents 
 man in all his varieties of mind, his expressions 
 of manner, and his power of action, and is the first 
 of moralities becan.^e it teaches us in the most 
 impressive way the knowledj;,e of ourselves. When 
 it's lighter specie?, which professes to satirise, 
 forsakes this imitation fur caricature it becomes 
 farce, whether it still be denominated cowcr/j/, as 
 we say tlie cofindics <>/" Reynolds, or whether it 
 be called opera, as we >ay the o/icras of Cif ERR Y 
 and Cobb : the actors in these pieces must act 
 unnaturally or tlicy will do nothiuir, but in real 
 comedy they will act naturally for the same rea- 
 son. In the praver kind of drama however their 
 imitation of life is perfect, not as it copies real 
 and simple manners, but as it accords with our 
 B 
 
V TriLATniCAi. tnnrcisM. 
 
 habitual ideas of human character; those who 
 have produced the general idea, tliat tragedy and 
 <:omedy are equally direct imitations of human 
 life, have mistaken their habitual for their ex- 
 perimental knowledge. The loftier persons of 
 tragedy require an elevation of language and 
 manner, which they never use in real life. Heroes 
 and sages speak like other men, they use their 
 action as carelessly and their looks as indifferent- 
 ly, and are not distinguished from their fellow- 
 mortals by their personal but by their mental 
 character ; but the popular conception of a great 
 man delights in dignifying his external habits, not 
 only because great men arc rarely seen and tlicre- 
 lore ac(]viire dignity from concealment, but be- 
 cause we conclude that they who excel us so 
 highly in important points can have nothing un- 
 important about them. We can hardly persuade 
 ourselves for instance, that Shakspeare ever 
 disputed in a club or that Mii/rov was fond of 
 smoking: the ideas of greatness and insignificance 
 associate with difficulty, and as extreme associa- 
 tions are seldom formed but by minds of peculiar 
 fancy and vigourous thought, it is evident they 
 will be rarely entertained by the Uiajority of ■the 
 world. A tragic hero, who called for his follower 
 or his horse, would in real life call for him as 
 easily and carelessly as any other man, but in 
 
THEATRTCAL (TKiruiSif. 3 
 
 tragedy such a carelessness uould become ludi- 
 crous : the loftiness of his character must be uni- 
 versal ; an artist who would paint the battles of 
 Fredeuic oi Prussia in a series of pictures would 
 study to maintain this important character through- 
 out, he would not represent the chief sitting on 
 horseback in a slovenly manner and taking snuff, 
 though the snuft'-box no doubt v, as of much impor- 
 tance at those times to his majesty, who as Pope 
 says of Princk Eugene, was as great a taker of 
 snuff as of towns : ^o great a violence of contrast 
 would become caricature in painting, and in trage- 
 dy it would degenerate into burlesque. Tragedy is 
 an imitation of life in passions ; it is comedy only 
 which imitates both passions and habits. 
 
 A tragic actor then is to be estimated, not at 
 he always copies nature, but as he satisfies the 
 general opinion of life and manners. He must 
 neither on the one hand debase his dignity by too 
 natural a simplicity of manner, nor on the other 
 give it a ridiculous elevation liy pompousness and 
 bombast. He cannot draw much of his know- 
 ledge from real life, because the loftier passions 
 are rarely exhibited in the common intercourse of 
 mankind ; but nevertheless he should not indulge 
 himself in novelties of invention, because the hearts 
 of his audience will be able to judge where their 
 experience has no power. Much study should 
 B 2 
 
TIIFAI RtL Ar CRn l( ISM. 
 
 ?trcii^lln'ii liis judjimcnt, since lie imi^t pcrti'ctly 
 umliistund Intorc hi'ijin feci I'.is author aiul toack 
 < tilers ti) feel ; where there is sttoni^ natural genius, 
 judgment will usually lollow in the devi-lopcment 
 of great passions, but it may fail in the miiiu'o 
 proprieties of tl'.e stage : where there is not n 
 strong natural genius, the contrary will be gene- 
 rally found. I'or the common actions of great 
 rharactei-s he must study the manner of the stager 
 fur tlicir passioi.:« nothing but nature. 
 
J IIEATFH.AL CUITIMSM — Ml'.. Kin<h! f 
 
 MR. KEMBLE. 
 
 Mu. Kemkle is a peculiar in-<t:u.ce oi aimosf 
 all tliese essentials to good acting, ;, iid at tju* 
 same time an example how nuicli tliev may 
 be injured by an indiscriminate application of 
 fttudy. His conceptions of churacter are strona; 
 where the characters themselves are strong, his 
 attention to passions is fixed by large objects, 
 he cannot sufficiently study the minute where 
 minuteness is important, though as 1 shall hero- 
 after explain he can give importance to minute- 
 nesses that mean nothing. He appears to sub- 
 mit every thing to his judgment, and exhibits little 
 of the enthusiasm of genius. The grander emotions 
 are his chief study ; he attaches a kind rf luftine: s 
 to every sensation that he indulges, and thus con- 
 ceives with much force the more majcbtic passions 
 at the same time that he is raised above the pathe- 
 tic passions, which always carry with them an air 
 of weakness and huniilitv. 
 
 J'"or the expression of the loftier emotions n^ 
 
t) THEATRICAL CRITICI.SM. — MK. KEMBLE. 
 
 actor is gifted by nature with greater external 
 means. His figure though not elegant is manly 
 and dignified, his features arc strongly marked 
 with what is called the Roman charactei, and 
 his'hcad altogether is the heroic hea<l of the an- 
 ti(juary and the artist. This tragic form assumes 
 excellently well the gait of royalty, the vigourous 
 majesty of the warrior, and the profound gravity 
 of the sage : but it's seriousness is unbending ; hii 
 countenance seems to despise the gaiety it labours 
 to assume, and it's comic expression is comic 
 because it is singularly wretched. Of the passion 
 of love he can express nothing; the reason is ob- 
 vious ; love from it's dependent nature must al- 
 ways, unless associated with some other passion, 
 betray an expression of tender feebleness, and 
 such an cxpressiou is unknown to Mr. Kemble's 
 countenance. The attempt of Mrs. Ixcii- 
 BALD * to make Mii. Kemble a lover is more 
 honourable to her partiality for the friend than to 
 her aticction for just criticism. She says, that he 
 can paint love more vigourously than any other 
 man, though he cannot love moderatcfy : in her 
 opinion, " sighs, soft complainings, a plaintive 
 voice, and tender looks bespeak mere moderation ; 
 Mr. Kemble," she continues, " must be struck 
 
 * New Britiah Theatre m i«h critical remarks by Mrs. Incli- 
 baldi No. 3. Longman and Ri-c>. 
 
VHrATRir.M, f RITiriSM. — MU. KKMBir., T 
 
 to t"he heart's coir, or not at all : he must be 
 wounded to the soul with grief, despair, or m.ad- 
 ncss." But this is mistaking the associated pas- 
 sion for it's companion. What a lover is he who 
 can neither speak softly nor look tenderly ? No 
 man according to this idea can express a perfect 
 love, that is, a love opposed to mere modevatiov , 
 unless he is struck with grief, or desperate, or 
 mad: but by such an association of outrageous 
 passions the expression of the individual one will 
 not be a perfect, because it is not a sim| le ex- 
 pression : the actor who cannot express an indivi- 
 dual passion without the assistance of others can 
 no more be said to be master of that passion, than 
 _a singer can be called a master of his art who 
 (jNfannot sing without an accompaniment. 
 ^^ It is in characters that are occupied with them- 
 selves and with their own importance, it is in the 
 systematic and exquisite revenge of Zaiiga, m the 
 indignant jealousy of 0^//e//o, and in the desperate 
 ambition of King John, that Mr. Kemble is 
 the actor. There is always something sublime in 
 the sudden completion of great objects, and per- 
 haps there is nt)t a sublimer action on the stage 
 than the stride of Mr. Kemble as Zanga, over 
 the body of his victim, and his majestic exultation 
 of revenge. 
 
 But if he succeeds in the prouder passions, his 
 
J% TitFxTPvirAf iRfTiiisv. — mi;. KF.^^^I.E. 
 
 Hili!»eiicc of studv liU'^ <iiviMi liiin no loss success 
 ill the expression of ininressive s<MMousness. 
 
 Tlie cliaracter of Pennid'lock in The ll'lieel of 
 J'orfitiie is his greatest performance, and I heiievo 
 it to be a perfect one. It is admirable, not be- 
 rause the tenderness of his love, as .Miis. Inch- 
 bald tells us, " appears lieneath the rnuL^hc^t 
 manners." I)ut because the very defect which hurts 
 his (:;i>neral st^le of actinii, tliat studii^is and im- 
 portant preciseness, which is affectation in all his 
 other characters, contributes to tlie sln'n<>th, to 
 the nature of Pen ruddock. Tliose who can dis- 
 cern any pccuhar expression of tenderness under 
 the roughness of Mu. Kemble's aciing mistake 
 tlieir feelings for their observation : it is tlio ten- 
 derness the character is supposed to feel, not 
 what he actually exhibit^, it is the tenderness of 
 the author not of tiie actor, which they discern 
 if there are (»ne or two phrases of lenderness ut- 
 tered by the stern recluse, they have a patlietic 
 eft'ect not because they are expressed with pecu- 
 liar tenderness liy the actor, but l)ecause a soft 
 emotion so unexpected \n one of liis appearance 
 produces a strong eficct from the strength ofx'on- 
 trast. To give a man imaginary praise is to give 
 him real dispraise. Mu. Kkmble himself wovdd 
 never think of valuing his own performjince for 
 its tenderness of expression ; he would value it, and 
 
TIIKATRICAI, ( UITICI^M. — MP, Kr.MRI.f:. 
 
 with justice, for it's sovi-rityof expression, lor it's 
 display of external pliilosophy, and for it's con- 
 tempt of every tiling that can no longer amuse. 
 
 Wherever this air of self-importance or abstrac- 
 ^lon is required, Mr. Kemble is excellent. It 
 is no small praise to say of an actor th;>(: he excels 
 in soliloquies : these solitary discourses require 
 great judoment because the speaker has no assis- 
 tance tVcnn others, and because the audience, 
 alwavs awake to action, is inclined during a 
 soliloquy to seek repose in inattention. Indeed 
 to gain the attention of an audience is always in 
 some degree to gain their applause, and this ap- 
 plause must cheerfully be given to Mr. Kem- 
 ble, who by his busy air and impressive manner 
 always attaches importance to a speech of what- 
 ever interest or length. To this excellence in 
 particular and to the general action of the stage. 
 he contributes by an exact knowledge of every 
 stage artifice local and temporal, and I could not 
 but admire the judicious contrixance by wliich he 
 added a consideral)le interest to his first appear- 
 ance in the sea>.on of 1805 ; the curtain rose and 
 discovered a study ; it was adorned with the 
 most natural literary disorder possible : the grave 
 actor appeared writing at a talkie with open books 
 here and there about him ; the gli/ues, the li- 
 brary, the furniture, every thing had it's use, and 
 
 ( 
 
 (u? 
 
 
10 THF.ATRtCAL CRITICISM. '.IT. KrAflllf.. 
 
 no doubt li's effect, for an audience, though per- 
 haps insensibly, is always pleased with a natural 
 scene. Of another necessary stage artifice, which 
 is called bye-play, and which beguiles the inter- 
 vals of action by an air of perpetual occupation, 
 he is a perfect master ; he never stands feebly 
 inactive, waiting for his turn to speak ; he is 
 never out of his place, he attends to every thing 
 passing on the stage at once, nor does he indulge 
 himself in those complacent stares at the audi- 
 ence which occupy inferior actors.* 
 
 This attention to the minute however is often 
 employed needlessly; he has made it a study hard- 
 ly less important than that of the passions, and 
 hence arises the great fault of his acting, a la- 
 borious and almost universal preciseness. Some of 
 tlie instances of this fault are so ludicrous that a per- 
 son who had not seen him would scarcely credit the 
 relation : he sometimes turns from one object to 
 another with so cautious a circumflexion of head, 
 that he is no doubt very often pitied by the audience 
 for having a stiff neck ; his words now and then 
 follow one another so slowly and his face all the 
 while assumes so methodical an expression, that 
 he seems reckoning how many lines he htis learnt 
 by heart ; I have known him make an eternal 
 _groan upon flic interjection Oh .', as if he were 
 
 * See Appcnrlis. 
 
TIIFATRtCAL CRITICISM MR. KEMHir. IL 
 
 determined to shew that his misery had not affect- 
 ed his lungs ; and to represent an energetical 
 address he has kept so continual a jerking and 
 nodding of the head, that at last if he represented 
 any thing at all, it could be nothing but Saint 
 Vitus's dance : by this study of nonentities it 
 would appear, that he never pulls out his hand- 
 kerchief without a design upon the audience, that 
 he has as much thought in making a step as mak- 
 ing a speech, in short that his very finger is eloquent 
 and that nothing means something. But all this nei- 
 ther delights nor deceives the audience: ofanassem- 
 bly collected together to enjoy a rational entertain- 
 ment, the majority will always be displeased with 
 what is irrational though they may be unable to 
 describe their sensations critically : irrationalities 
 amuse in farce only. An audience when judging 
 the common imitations of life have merely to 
 say " Is it like ourselves !" 
 
 Perhaps there is not a greater instance of the 
 ill effects one bad habit, like this, can produce, 
 than in Mr. Kemble's delivery. No actor in 
 his declamation pleases more at some times or 
 more offends at others. His voice is hollow and 
 monotonous from a malformation, as it is said, of 
 his organs of utterance; it's weakness cannct 
 command a variety of sound sufficiently powerful 
 for all occasions, nor is it's natural extent melodious 
 
li Til PA I Kir \r. fRiiicisM. — ^rR. KrAfnrF. 
 
 or plcasin;r ; |)iit a voice naturally monotonous 
 must be di-slinguished from a monotonv of deli- 
 very ; the latter neglects emphasis and expression, 
 (he former though it will not always obtain may 
 always attempt both. No player perhaps under- 
 stands his author better, and such a knowled^je 
 will easily impart itndf to others : his dechima- 
 tioii therefore is contidont and exact, he is at 
 all tinies carefully distinct, and his general deliver\ 
 is marked, ex|)ressive, and even powerful : the art 
 will) which he supplies the natural weakness -of hiv 
 voice by an cnerijv and sii^niticancv of utterance is 
 truly admirable. Rut the same affectation, which 
 indulges itself in an indiscriminate importance of 
 manner, the same ambition of originality where 
 tiriginalitv is least wanted, characterises Mu, 
 IvEMRr. e's pronunciation : it has inducetl him to 
 defy all orthoepy and to allow no accent but 
 what pleases his caprice or his love of imiova- 
 tion.* To be novel for the mere sake of novelty 
 belongs neitlier to genius nor to judgment. Mr, 
 Kp.iMr.LE insi>ts that the word rude should be 
 rod, beard is metamorphorsed into bird, he never 
 pierces the heart but purses it, ami virtue and 
 vicrehant become in the dialecl ol the kitchen 
 vnrehue and mareliaiit ; the strong s\ liable cr 
 
 ♦ Si't* Appviullx. 
 
THrATnirAT, criticism. — MR. Kr.MRI.E. 15 
 
 appears to be an almmination, and is never allow- 
 od iifternnce ; Pope says 
 
 To orr 15 humnii, to t'or5i\p divine — 
 
 but ISFh. Kf,mbi-e MJH not con'^ent to this, he 
 says 
 
 To air is linnKui — 
 
 making the nioialist sav, that it is the naturr 
 (if man to dry liis clean shirt or to take a walk : 
 t/ii/ is thanued into tlit' probably because the 
 sound ot" »u/ is sometime^ contracted into ???r j 
 1)Ut nr.itahilitie*; (.f pronnnciation in one \\o\(\ 
 never r.ruue for tfiem in .niother; people niv not 
 accu'-toined to sav, siicli a man hivs a rr' < neck, / 
 or that it is verv fire weather. Du. Joiixson 
 mIu) had an aiitipntliv to the short pi(>nuncialii>n 
 li-hi'l and wished to call it uhid, attacked the 
 custom by a ludicrous assemblage and niispixi- 
 nuncialioi! of other words, in which the letter i i^ 
 naturallv Ions. an<l said with much critical 
 oravity, — " / Iiax'c a wind to Jiiul u'liy you vail 
 that xvhid." But this ])lcasantry did not change 
 the pronunciation in Jieneral converse. liCt us 
 5ee how INIr. Kf.mf. I, e wtuild improve the follow- 
 in<i lines : we will put his improvement, after tlrr 
 nriainal. since the beauty of the contrast will 1a 
 Jireater : 
 
M TUKATRIC At. CT-ITICISM. — MR. KEMBtE. 
 
 Virtue, tliy liappy wisdom's known 
 In mailing what we wish our own ; 
 Nay, e'en to wish what wishes tliee 
 Imparts the blest reality : 
 For since the soul that pierces mine. 
 Sweet Myra's soul, is full of thine. 
 In my breast too thy spirit stirs, 
 Since all my soul is full of her's I 
 
 "Mk. Kemble's improvement: 
 
 Varrhur, the happy wisdom's known 
 In making what we wish our own j 
 Nay, e'en to wish what wishes thee 
 Imparts the blest reality : 
 For since the soul ihatpuMM mine, 
 Sweet Myra's soul, is full of thine. 
 In my breast too thy spirit start's. 
 Since all my soul is full of hairs ! 
 
 'i'lus is very amusing, but there is no rule- 
 lor pronimcifition but custom ; as customs change, 
 actors may change ; but no individual should 
 alter what he lias no reason for altering, or what 
 has either a bad effect or none at all when altered. 
 There have been several attempts to vary the 
 mode of spelling now in use ; the latest innova- 
 tion was practised by Ritson, a man of curious 
 and happy research into old English literature, 
 and one who might have boasted a better origin- 
 ality than that of milking his words unintclligi- 
 
THKAIRICAI. CRITICISM. — Ml. KF.MBI E. 15 
 
 hie : nobody has adopted a single one of these 
 innovations, first because it is painful to depart 
 from old rules and habits, and secondly, because 
 it is still more painful to depart from them with- 
 out a cause. For the same reasons nobody will 
 adopt ISIr. Kemble's pronunciations, and if he 
 were to carry his dialect into private life, he 
 T\ould be either pitied or laughed at. But why 
 place his ambition where there are no hopes of 
 original praise ? 1 could mispronounce much 
 better than he, when I was a mere infant. 
 
 Upon the whole jNIr. Kemble appears to be 
 an actor of correct rather than quick conception, 
 of studious rather than universal or equal judg- 
 ment, of powers some naturally defective but ad- 
 mirably improved and others excellent by nature 
 but still more so by art; in short of a genius more 
 compulsive of respect than attractive of delight. 
 He does not present one the idea of a man who 
 grasps with the force of genius, but of one who 
 overcomes by the toil of attention. He never rises 
 and sinks as in the enthusiasm of the moment ; 
 his ascension though grand is careful, and when he 
 jinks it is with preparation and dignity. There are 
 actors who may occasionally please more, but not 
 one who is paid a more universal or profound at- 
 tention. 
 
16 lIll.i.lKUAL CKII I( 1 j.\l. — MKb. SlIiDONS. 
 
 .ill:5. .^i IJUUXS^ 
 
 To write a criticism on .Mrs. Sid dons is to 
 write a |vaiici;vric, and a paneiivnc ot a very pecu- 
 liar sort, for tlie ])riiisc will be true. Like her 
 elder brother she has a marked and ii()l)le counie- 
 nance and a fiiiure more dignified than oraceful, 
 and she is like him in all his good qualities but 
 not any oi his bad ones. If Mu. Ke.mble studi- 
 oiislv meditates a step ar an attitude in the midst 
 of passion, Mrs. SiDnoxs never thinks about 
 rither and tiir relore is always natural, because on 
 occasions of <Treal feelino; it is the passions should 
 influence the actions : attitudes are not' to be 
 studied, as old IIav.^kd used to study them, 
 between six lookui^-filasses : feel the passion, and 
 the action will follow. i know, it has been 
 denied, that actors sympathize with the feelinjis 
 they represent, and amon<i other critics, Dr. 
 Johnson is supposed to have denied it. The 
 Doctor was accustomed to talk very loudly at 
 the play upori divers subjects, even \\!ien his triend 
 
TUEATRirALCRTTTCISM. M liS. SIDDONS. iT 
 
 Garrick was clcctrifyinn; the house with his 
 most wonderful scenes, and the worst of it was 
 that he usually sat in one of the stage boxes : 
 the actor remonstrated with him one night after 
 the representation, and com{)!ained that the 
 talkin;:; " disturbed his feciin2;s :" " P/isaiv ! 
 David," replied the critic, " Punch has no feel- 
 ings." But the Doctor was fond of saying his 
 good things as well as lesser geniuses, and to say 
 a good tiling is not always to say a true one or 
 one that is intended to be true. To call his 
 friend a puppet, to give so contemptuous an appel- 
 lation to a man whose ])owers he was at other 
 times happy to resjiect, and whose death he 
 lamented as ha\ing "' crlipsi'd tlie gaiety of 
 nations," must be considered as a fnmiliar plea- 
 santry ratlier tl;an a betrayed opinion. The best 
 uiiy to solve the difficulty is to apply to an actor 
 himself, but as I iim not in tlie way ol such an ap- 
 ]>lication, 1 think the complaint made by Gar- 
 kick will do as well, since he talks of his feel- 
 ings, as the means necessary to his performance. 
 It appears to me, that the countenance cannot 
 express a single jnission perfectly, unless the pas- 
 sion is first felt : it is easy to grin representations of 
 joy, and to pull down the muscles of the counte- 
 nance as an imitation of sorrow, but a keen observer 
 of hun^an nature and it's effects will easily detect 
 the cheat ; there are nerves and muscles requisite 
 c 
 
18 TUEATRICAI. CRITICISM. — MUS. SIDDOXS. 
 
 to expression, that will not answer the will on com- 
 mon occasions; but to represent a passion with 
 truth, every nerve and muscle should be in it's 
 proper action, or the representation becomes weak 
 and confused, melancholy is mistaken for grief, and 
 pleasure for dclipht ; it is from this feebleness of 
 *niotJon so many dull actors endeavour to supply 
 passion with vehemence of action and voice, as 
 jusglers are talkative and bustling to beguile scru- 
 ;inv. I have somcwhore heard, that jNIks. Sid- 
 OONS has talked of the real agitation which the 
 performance of some of her characters has made 
 h(>r teel. 
 
 To see the bewildered melancholy of I^dy 
 Mai-bef/t walking in her sleep, or the widow's 
 7inite stare of perfected misery by the corpse 
 of the gamester Bcrer/ci/, two of the sublimest 
 pieces of acting on the English stage, would 
 r.rgue this point better than a thousuntl critics. 
 Mrs. SiDDONS has the air of never being the 
 ?ictrcss ; she seeins unconscious that there is a 
 motley croud calleel a pit waiting to applaud her,. 
 ov that there are a dozen fiddlers waiting for her 
 exit. This is always one of the marks of a great 
 ;;ctor: the player who amuse* himself by lot)k- 
 ing at the audience for admiration may be assured 
 Jie never gets any : it is in acting as in confer- 
 ring obligations : one should have the air of doinij 
 Hothinir for a return. 
 
TIIF.AI lUCAI. CRI1ICIS.M. MRS.SIDDONS. 19 
 
 It Mrs, SiDDONS has not every single requi- 
 site to a perfect tragedian, it is the amatory pa- 
 thetic: in the despair oi' Bclvidera for instance she 
 rises to sublimity, but in the tenderness of Belvi- 
 dera she preserves too stately and self-subdued an 
 air : she can overpower, astonish, afflict, but she 
 cannot win : her majestic presence and com- 
 mandins^ features seem to disregard love, as a trifle 
 to which they cannot descend. But it does not 
 follow, that a tragedian unable to sink into tke 
 softness of the tender pas-^ion, is the more to be 
 respected for his undeviating dignity and spirit : 
 it does not follow that he iias a loftier genius ; 
 love though humble never move* our contempt ; 
 on the contrary it adds new interest to a charac- 
 ter at other times dignified ; in real life the 
 greatest heroes and sages have acquired an extra- 
 (irdinary charm from their union of wisdom and 
 tenderness, of conquest and gallant submission : 
 and as we doubly admire the wise Plato for his 
 amatory effusions and the chivalrous spirit of 
 He\uy the GuEAT for the tenderness of his 
 love, so on the stage the tragedian, who unites the 
 hero and the lover, that is, who can display either 
 character as it is required, is the more admirable 
 genius. Besides, the figure of JNliis. Siddons is 
 now too large and too matronly to represent youth, 
 and particularly the immediate passions of youth; 
 c Q 
 
20 THEATKK AL tRITKISM. — MRS. SIDD0X9. 
 
 wc hope that by the next season she will have 
 given up the performance of characters suited nei- 
 ther to her age nor her abilities. 
 
 After this one defect I have in vain considered 
 and reconsidered all the tragedies, in which I 
 have seen her, to find the shadow of another. 
 She unites with her noble conceptions of nature 
 f;vcry advantage of art, every knowledge of stage 
 }»ropriety and effect. This knowledge however she 
 displays not with the pompous minuteness of Mr. 
 Kem BLE, but with that natural carelessness, which 
 ^how s it to be the result of genius rather than grave 
 study. If there is a gesture in the midst, or an 
 attitude in the interval of action, it is the result of 
 the impassioned moment ; one can hardly imagine, 
 there has been any such thing as a rehearsal for 
 powers so natural and so spirited. Of the force of 
 such mere action I recollect a sublime instance 
 displayed by Mrs. Siddons in the insipid 
 tragedy of The Cncian Daughter* This heroine 
 has obtained for her aged and imprisoned father 
 some unexpected assistance from the guard 
 PhUotas: transported with gratitude, but having 
 Tiothing from the poet to give expression to her 
 loelings, she starts with extended arms and casts 
 herself in mute prostration at his feet. I shall 
 
 * .Sec Appt'iulis, 
 
TUEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MRS, SinDON>. <Ji 
 
 nrver forget the glow, which rushed to my cheeks 
 at this subHme action. 
 
 These are the eft'ects I\Ir. Kemble should 
 study, and not the clap-provoking frivolities of 
 ending every speech with an energetic dash of the 
 fist, or of running off the stage after a vehement 
 declamation as if tiie actor was in haste to get his 
 pint of wine. If tlie brother and sister are C(im- 
 pared, the palm both of genius and of judgment 
 must undoubtedly be given to Mrs. Siddoxs; 
 I question whether she understands her authors so 
 intimately, but she gives double effect to (heir 
 important passages, and their unimportant ones 
 are allowed to sink into their proper mediocrity : 
 where every thing is raised into significance, the 
 significance is destroyed. If an artist v.ould 
 study the expression of the passions, let him lay 
 by the pictures of Le Brun, and copy the looks 
 of Mrs. Siddo^'s. 
 
22 THBWFirAT. cnniCISM. — M!!. I'OI'E. 
 
 MR. POPE. 
 
 VVirrx I placcMa. Pope imn)0(liatc!\-aftoi- Mus. 
 SiDDONS, every body will sec I do not criticise 
 tlic actors according to their rank. Hut it is lor 
 the sake of contrast. If we have just had an ex- 
 ample of almost perfect tragedy, we have now an 
 instance of every fault that can make it not only 
 imperfect but disgusting. Mr. Pope liiis ni>t one 
 requisite to an actor, but a good voice, and this 
 he uses so unmercifully on all occasions, that it's 
 value is lost, and he contrives to turn it into a 
 defect. Mis face is as hard, as immoveable, ami 
 as void of meaning as an oak wainscot, his eyes 
 which should endeavour to throw some meaning 
 into his vociferous declamation he generally con- 
 trives to keep almost shut, and what would make 
 another actor merely serious is enough to put 
 him in a passion. In short, when Siiakspeare 
 wrote his description of " a mbustious fellow, 
 who tears a passion to tatters," one would suppose 
 that he luid been shewn by some supernatural 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. POPE. gS 
 
 means the future race of actors, as Macbeth had 
 a prophetic view of Banquo's race, and that the 
 robustious phantom was Mr. Pote. Here is an 
 actor then without face, expression, or delivery, 
 and yet this complication of negative qualities 
 finds means to be clapped in the theatre and pa- 
 negyrized in the newspapers. This inconsistency 
 must be explained. As to tlie newspapers,* and 
 their praise of this gentleman, I do not wish to 
 repeat all the prevailing stories. Who does not 
 know their corruptions ? There is however an in- 
 falhble method of obtaining a claj) from the gal- 
 leries, and there is an art known at the theatre by 
 the name o{ clap- trapping, which Mu. Pote has 
 ■shewn great wisdom in studying. It consists in 
 nothing more, that in gradually raising the voice 
 as the speech draws to a conclusion, making an 
 alarming outcry on the last four or five lines, or 
 suddenly dropping them into a tremulous but en- 
 ergetic under-tone, and with a vigorous jerk of 
 the right arm rushing off the stage. All this a- 
 stonishcs the galleries ; they are persuaded it must 
 be something very fine, because it is so important 
 and so unintelligible, and they clap for the sake of 
 their own reputation. 
 
 One might be apt to wonder at Mil. Pope's 
 total want of various expression, when his merit 
 
 * Sue Appendix. • 
 
€4 THEATRICAL CKITiriSM. — MR. POPS. 
 
 4is an artist is considered. It should spcm, that 
 the sami- imitative observation, which gives so 
 natural an elegance to his portraits on canvass, 
 should enliven and adorn his portraits on the stage, 
 that the same elegant conception wliicli enables 
 him to throw grace into the attitudes and mean- 
 ing into the eyes of others, should inspire his ac- 
 tion with variety and his looks with intelligence. 
 
 It is in the acknowledgment of gesture and at- 
 titude, but more particularly in the variation of 
 countenance, in the adaption of look to feeling, 
 that the actor is best known. Mn. Pope, in his 
 general style, has but two gestures, which follow 
 each other in monotonous alternation, like the 
 jerks of a toyshop harlequin: one is a mere exten- 
 sion of the arms, and is used on all occasions of 
 candour, of acknowledgment, of remonstrance, 
 and of explanation; the other for occasions of 
 vehemence or of grandeur, is an elevation of the 
 arms, like the gesture of Raphael's Sai?it 
 Paul preaching at Athens, an action which 
 becomes the more absurd on common occasions, 
 from it's real sublimity. If Mu. Pope how- 
 ever is confined to two expressions in his gesture, 
 he has but two expressions in his look, a flat 
 indifiercnce which is used on all sober occa- 
 sions, and an angry frown which is used on all 
 ijupassioncd ones. With these two looks he 
 
TnEATRIfAL CRITICISM MR. I'OPT. -.'? 
 
 undertakes to represent all the passions, gentle as 
 well as violent; he is like a quack who with a 
 phial in each hand undertakes to perform evcrv 
 possible wonder, while the only thing to be won- 
 dered at is his 'cheating the mob. The best cha- 
 racter he performs is Othello, because he per- 
 forms it in a mask : for when an actor's face is 
 not exactly seen, an audience is content to supply 
 by its own imagination the want of expression, just 
 as in reading a book we figure to ourselves the coun- 
 tenance of the persons interested. But when wc 
 are presented with the real countenance, we anv 
 disappointed if our imagination is not assisted in 
 its turn ; the picture presented to our eyes should 
 animate the picture presented to our mind ; if 
 either of them differ, or if the former is less liveK' 
 than the latter, a sensation of discord is produced, 
 and destroys the etl'ect of nature which is always 
 harmonious. 
 
 The pain we feel at bad acting seems indeed to 
 be entirely the result of a want of harmony. ^Ve 
 are pleased when the actor's external action cor- 
 responds with the action of his mind, when his eye 
 answers his heart, when all we see is the animated 
 picture of all we feel : we are displeaseil whenever 
 the passion and the expression are at variance, 
 when the counteuance does not become a second 
 language to the dialogue, when moderate tones 
 
JO THKATnirA[. rRITICISM. — MR. POtZ. 
 
 express vcliemcnt emotions and when vehement 
 tones express moderate emotions, when in 
 ^hort Mr. Pope is not Holla or Romeo but 
 Mr. Pope. A musician who tells us that he i? 
 going to play a melancholy movement and then 
 dashes his harp or his piano in a fury cannot dis- 
 appoint us more than this actor, when he raises 
 from language merely sorrowful an expression of 
 boisterous passion. The character of Hotspur 
 has been reckoned a proper one for Mr. Pope, 
 !)ecause it is loud and violent ; these arc good 
 reasons certainly, and we would rather iicar him 
 in Hotspur than in Hamlet, for noise like any 
 other enjoyment is dcliiihtful in its pr<)j)er season 
 only. But to act Hotspur well is a mark of no 
 great talent ; of all expressions violence is the 
 most easily afl'ected, because the conception of 
 violence has no sensation of restraint, ii has no 
 feelings to hide or to repress, and no niceties of 
 action to study ; the gentler passions give us lei- 
 sure to examine them, we can follow every varia- 
 tion of feeling and every change of expression ; 
 but here we have leisure for nothing ; every thing 
 is rapid and confused; we are in the condition of 
 ct man who should attempt to count the ?pokes of 
 a wheel in a chariot-race. 
 
 Mr. Pope in short may be considered as au 
 •example of the little value of a ^ood voice unac- 
 
Tin:.\TRlCAL CIlITiriSM. — MK.Viv.'i:. '>7 
 
 fompanied with expression, while Mit. Kembi.t. 
 is a proof how much may lie d<jnc by an fxprcs- 
 sivc countenance and manner witli the. worst voire 
 in the world. 
 
 But perhaps as I can say nothing of Mr. Popt. 
 as a tragic actor, I may be expected to say sonie^- 
 thiiig of him as a comic one, for he does act in 
 comedy. Any one however who examines tins 
 double gift, will discover that lo act in comedy and 
 to be a comic actor are two very different things ; 
 Mr. Kemble ])eriorms in comedy, but who 
 will call Mr. Kemble a comic actor ? Who will 
 reckon up the comic actors and say " VVc have 
 Banxister, and Lewis, and Munden, and 
 Kemble ?" If Mr. Pope acts in sentimental 
 comedy, what is called sentimental comedy is 
 nothing more than a mixture of tragedy and co- 
 medy, or, if Ur. Johnson's definition is to be 
 allowed, it is sometimes entire tragedy, for he 
 Calls tragedy " a dramatic representation of a 
 serious action." There may be very often a seri- 
 ous character in humourous comedies, such as a 
 sober merchant, a careful father, or one of those 
 useless useful friends who serve as a kind of foil to 
 a gay hero, but the actor who performs these cha- 
 racters never excites our livelier feelings or our 
 mirth, and therefore cannot be called a comic 
 actor. Lord To-widey for instance in The Pro- 
 
28 TiiEATnirAL criticism. — mr. pope. 
 
 rokcd Husband is merely a tragic character who 
 has stopped into comedy: Mr. Kemble repre- 
 sents Lord ToKiiley with much gravity and stato- 
 liness ; yet nol)ody in the pit ever said at seeing 
 this character " Really that is very comic !" It 
 is necessary to a comic actor, that he shciuld be 
 able to excite our laughter or at least our smiles, 
 but !Mr. Pope never excites either, at any 
 rate not designedly. It is for this reason that 
 he has been ])laced among the tragedians, and 
 that Mr. Charles Kemble, Mr. Henry 
 .TofiNSTON, Mr. Murray, and Mr. Sid- 
 DOKS will be placed among them too. All these 
 gentlemen might undoubtedly be called comic 
 actors, as Robin Hood's companion who was 
 ieven feet high was called Little John ; or we 
 might say such a man was as comic as Mr. Kem- 
 ble or Mr. Henry Joiin-stox, just as w»{ 
 say such a thing is as smooth as a file. But upon 
 plain subjects I would rather be plain spokoa. 
 
IHEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. KarMOXl). 2^ 
 
 iMU. RAYxMOND. 
 
 Interest has it's sway in the mimic as well as 
 in tlie real world ; crowns of gold and crowns of-' 
 tinsel, salaries of two guineas a week and salaries 
 of twenty thousand a year, are alike bestowed by 
 interest; those who all their lives are kings over 
 mighty realms and those who for two or three 
 hours reign o\er thirty square feel of board must 
 alike be courted ; but the favourites of either do 
 not always support the characters that are given 
 them, wretched things will be said and done in 
 the houses, nor will the people always be satislied 
 with that for which they pay. It must be a sin- 
 gular possession of interest that can elevate Mrs. 
 Humphries and INIiss Bruntox into he- 
 roines, and it must be a great want of interest 
 that brings down JNIii. Rayiniond to be the 
 mere Achates of heroes or the insipid serious old. 
 gentleman of the sentimental drama. 
 
 The person and the countenance of Mr. Ray- 
 
30 THtATllICAL CRiriClSV. — MK. RAVMONO. 
 
 MOND possess littk' of tragic dignity. Thom-sos 
 the poet was of a dull appearance and 
 
 More fat than bard beseems, 
 
 and Mu. Raymoxd is more heavy in his look 
 than tragedian beseems ; yet the face of TiroM- 
 SON would become highly animated at poetical 
 times, and the countenance of Mu. Raymond 
 in scenes of interest can flash into expressions 
 peculiar to the man of feeling and genius. He 
 is not however a tragedian of the highest class, 
 since his chief excellence is in the vehement pas- 
 sions; but in these he is always natural : his an- 
 ger is not the unmeaning rige of Mr. Pope, it 
 does not consist in a mere staring eye and a 
 thundering voice, nor i» his violent grief the sul- 
 len and boisterous lamentation of a schoolboy ; 
 those who have seen him in the character of 
 Macduff' have seen a picture of the strong pathe- 
 tic that cannot be surpassed. Every body can 
 clench his fist, can sob, and can strike his bosom 
 every other minute ; but to change the voice and 
 the countenance into all the transitions from des- 
 perate to languid sorrow, or from resentment of 
 wrongs to piteous complaint, and gradually to be- 
 come vehement or g'htle, powerful or powerless, 
 as the passion Huctuiitcs, belongs to a master 
 
THEATniCAI. CRIllCISM, Mn. RAVMOKU. 31 
 
 only. It is not in simple passions, but in their 
 gradations and changes that the actor is most 
 admirable. 
 
 Mr. Raymond should pass over to Covcnt 
 Garden Theatre and be installed in all tlie cha- 
 racters of Mr. Pope. While the latter is attempt- 
 ing Fharro, a character which he cannot reach,. 
 the tbrmer condescends to be the magician of an 
 Eastern tale and is assisting pantomime. Here 
 should be a mutual exchange; Mn. Pope in- 
 deed as a pautoniimist could make no use 
 of his great excellence his vnice, but then he can 
 stmt and stamp better than most actors, and 
 M'ith the usual help of expressive music and an 
 explanatory printed flag would possess quite suf- 
 ficient meaning for a knight of romance or a pro- 
 tector of Harlequins. But Mr. Raymond's^ 
 person is not sufficiently active for the bustle of 
 pantomime, he does not enter into the fancies 
 of attitude with that delightful no-meaning, 
 which becomes so fascinating in the limbs of an 
 opera-dancer, nor can he help reminding us 
 of the tragedian, a fault of which IMn. Pope 
 is never guilty. 
 
 I have been repeatedly struck in the examina- 
 tion of actors on the stagq with an idea, which 
 may at first siglit appear fanciful enough, but 
 \\\\\q\\ has always given me the strongest convic- 
 
;J2 IHEaTRICaL CHITICISM. — MR. n.WMONiD. 
 
 tion of it's truth, if not perhaps from abstract rea- 
 soning, at least from internal evidence. ^Ir, 
 IIaymond is well known to the public as a lite- 
 rary man, or from mere stage observation I should 
 have hazarded the conjecture that he was a man 
 of reading. 
 
 There is an inexpressible something, which in 
 common life always announces the gentleman, and 
 which never deceives us : it appears to me, that 
 there is also an air not to be described which in 
 some actors announces the man of reading. 
 Whether it is a peculiar confidence that does not 
 exhibit itself too strongly, whether it is an unem- 
 barrassed intimacy with the author's language, or 
 whether it is an air of mental polish that shines 
 through external habits, 1 have not )et studied to 
 discover : perhaps the latter reason is the most 
 natural, for ISIu. Cooke, though he perfictly 
 understands his autiior and though a strong 
 original genius, has nothing of this air, nor should 
 1 suppose him to be a man of reading. If I were 
 a-sked to mention those who strike me peculiarly 
 with their literary air, I should venture to name 
 Mu. Ellistox, .Mil. KkiMble, Ma.CnAULEs 
 Kemble, Mil. R.vYMOXD, and even Mr. 
 Henry Siddons, who proves by the bye that 
 this air is not the ri-sult of an easv conficlence. 
 
THEATRICAL ^^TICISM. — MK. U. SIDDONff. S^ 
 
 MR. HENRY SIDDONS. 
 
 Situations in life are determined sometimes by 
 genius, but much oftener by chance. Some men 
 become clergymen for no other reason than 
 because their fathers were clergymen ; the inspira- 
 tion of heaven is a living in the family : others 
 scrape a fiddle all their lives because they are the 
 offspring of musicians : one inherits a goosequill 
 from his fiithcr though he has nothing to do with 
 his genius, and another calls himself doctor and 
 murders the human race because his father did all 
 he could to keep them alive. Thus if the subject 
 of n\y present criticism had not been the son of 
 JNIrs. Sid dons, I cannot imagine he would ever 
 have chosen the stage for his profession. 
 
 The countenance of Mr. Siddons is sensible, 
 but his person is ungraceful, and his manners ar« 
 constrained ; his voice is worse than Mr. Kem- 
 ble's, for it is harsh as well as feeble, nor can he 
 manage it with tbe least skill. There is a word 
 very much used by newspapers, when they wish to 
 
 D 
 
54 THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MB. 11. SIDDONS. 
 
 conceal their dissatisfaction with an actor under 
 the mask of praise : if a performer is insipid and 
 does nothing towards the advancement of the per- 
 foriranco, they say he is respectable ; this word is 
 peculiarly applicable to the general merits of IMr. 
 SiDDONS. His delivery is that of a man who has 
 ytiulicd tlie words with attention in order to say 
 his part icell; it is that of a school-boy repeating 
 Homer; he may possess a taste for what he 
 is reciting, but the anxiety of the recitation 
 destroys the idea of evei"y thing else but itself: he 
 cannot attend to action and to passion, and there- 
 fore they are both feeble. But if he does not 
 move his audience with delight, he never moves 
 them with contempt ; he is always respectable, his 
 passion though feeble is never misplaced, his 
 theatrical birth and his early theatrical habits pre- 
 vent him from gross mistakes, and he has the air of 
 feeling an interest in the passing scene, an air 
 which will always keep an audience good-natured 
 oven when they have every other reason to be in- 
 diflercnt. 
 
 Mr. Siddons should never appear in any 
 character, which is necessary to the importance of 
 a drama: to make him a hero and a king is to 
 make a hero without spirit and a king without dig- 
 nity : kings indeed are not always dignified off the 
 stage, for the late King of Naples used to 
 smoke with his lazzaroni, George the Second 
 
THEATRrCAT. CRITICISM. — MR, H. SIDBONS. 35 
 
 was fond of kicking his ministers, and Charles 
 the Twelfth combed his hair with his fingers, 
 though this is a circumstance disputed by his 
 friends, who contend that he never combed it at 
 all ; but there are a great many good reasons why 
 kings should be dignified on the stage, and as 
 authors always make them so, actors' should not 
 degrade their dignity. Mb.. Siddons is rcspect- 
 aile, and he should undertake characters that 
 inspire us with nothing more than respect ; but 
 what do the newspapers mean when they say such 
 an actor performs Hamlei or Henry the Fourth's 
 Prince of Wales respectably ? To represent such 
 men respectably is to repiesent them badly, for 
 they should excite warmer emotions, they should 
 raise our wonder and oui admiration. If we praise 
 Henry the Fifth so highly as to call him a 
 respectable hero, it will not be a great hazard of 
 epithet to call Sir Isaac Newton a knowing 
 mathcmatkian, or Locke a clexcr sage. 
 
"5 THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. H. JOIIXSTON. 
 
 MR. HENRY JOHNSTON. 
 
 If Mr. Siddons hurts the propriety of a dig* 
 nificd character by a want of importance, Mr. 
 Henry Jotinstox hurts it by an important af- 
 fectation; the fault however is not equally hurt- 
 ful, since great characters may be proud and af- 
 fected, but they should never be unimportant : a 
 little htride and frown may be allowed a theatri- 
 cal hero, but he should never shuffle in his pace 
 or look as if he were saying a lesson. Mu. 
 Johnston however is invariably too lofty, his 
 mien becomes haughty when it should merely be 
 stedfast, and as he possesses a very expressiva 
 countenance and a commanding figure this haugh- 
 tiness has an etj'cct peculiarly observable. 
 
 He who is always upon stilts will not make a 
 great progress, he can neither stoop as occasion 
 rpquircs, nor change his attitude and his manner 
 with an easy and necessary variety. 
 
 Perhaps it was a misfortune for Mil. .Tohn- 
 STON, that in his younger days he was so much ap- 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. H. JOHNSTON. 37 
 
 plauded in theatres where he could neither leani 
 from better actors nor from impartial critics: the 
 northern stage, filled with wretched players, was 
 rejoiced to discover a promising genius in the young 
 actor, he was dignified by the title of the Scotch 
 Hoscius, and from that moment his applause was 
 unbounded and his errors unalterable. It is na- 
 tural enough that a young genius full of himself 
 should take no care to correct what every body 
 conspires to praise ; where there is no discrimina- 
 tion of praise there will be no self-discrimination 
 of error; as everything pleases, it is naturally 
 supposed every thing ought to please, and thus 
 bad habits are fixed, and criticism if ever it chan- 
 ges it's tone will no longer be able to change it's 
 effect. Mr. Johnston has therefore retained 
 all the errors which though tolerated and even ap- 
 plauded in the child become intolerable in the 
 man. 
 
 A young actor whose feelings and whose expe- 
 rience allow him little knowledge of mankind has 
 very general ideas of passion ; he conceives nothing 
 but the stronger passions because they are the least 
 complicated, and he expresses them with the more 
 ease as they require uncomplicated expression ; the 
 features easily assume the look of rage and of 
 pride, because these are passions which are totally 
 occupied with themselves, and therefore exhibit 
 
33 THEATRICAL CP.ITTriSM. — .VH. 11. JOHXSTOX. 
 
 themselves individually; envy and jealousy on the 
 contrary being mixed passions exhibit themselves 
 in complication with others, and are more diffi- 
 cult of representation, just as it is more difilcult 
 in a picture to mingle hues delicately than to make 
 it of one colour. The stronger passions arc easier 
 also of expression, because they are seen almost as 
 much in the action as in the countenance, while 
 melancholy, pity, and love are confined almost 
 entirely to the latter, A youthful actor there- 
 fore, finding his powers best suited to the stronger 
 passions, indulges himself in that vehement expres- 
 sion with which children always endeavour to 
 supply the man; passions reall} existing moderate 
 their violence by their own failure of power, but in 
 imitation no such self-restraint is felt, and there- 
 fore in unskilful hands their violence is always 
 carried beyond nature : thus children are inclined 
 to caricaiire a passion, because they must sup- 
 ply tlic dellcienc) of feeling by a superfluity of ac- 
 tion ; every thing becomes greater in the imita- 
 tion than in the original ; dignity is forced into 
 haughtiness, displeasure into rage, and indifference 
 into contempt. 
 
 These are the boyi!>h defects Mr. Joiinstov 
 has neglected to overcome. Unassisted by that 
 penetrating and powerful genius, whose nature it 
 is to discern it's own errors and to break through 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. H. JOnNSTON. 39 
 
 "them by it's own reason, he has wanted a skilful 
 •master, who might have retrenched his fancy and 
 added to his judgment. He has therefore become 
 a man of habits, and introduces them upon al! 
 . occasions without the least reason. Thus he has 
 always an air of importance, and it is always the 
 same air whether he is a warrior, a loyer, or a 
 mere gentleman. He indulges himself in all the 
 mute cant of the stage, he rolls his eyes, frowns 
 most terrifically, looks downwards on one side 
 with a swelling front and in an attitude of stiff 
 contempt, prepares us for every trilling speech 
 with cold pauses of intended meaning, and even 
 descends to the knack of frequently tossing a lock 
 off his forehead with a delicate fingor, like a young 
 lady whose curls disturb her eyes. 
 
 All these frivolities, which seem to be the ef- 
 fect of a studious habit, are in reality the conse- 
 quence of a negligent habit ; they arc to supply ex- 
 pression and nature, which' are studied with diffi- 
 culty, and they arc to win the audience by personal 
 graces which are easier of assumption than men- 
 tal graces. But these tricks lose their effect by 
 repetition, because every body expects them ; his 
 frowns are contemplated with the most perfect 
 coolness, the audience are on their guard and do 
 not chuse to be alarmed without a cause ; his 
 •haushtv attitudes indeed sometimes make them 
 
■10 TDEATP.ICAL CRITICISM. — MR. 11. JOIINSTOy. 
 
 wonder, but the wonder is, what those attitudes 
 can mean ; they are sometimes alarmed too at 
 his rolHng eyes, but I can assure him from my 
 own experience that it is only lest he should over- 
 strain his eyeballs. In pantomime, which deals 
 in astonishment, it may be necessary to be hor- 
 rible in order to please, but Mr. Johnston 
 sliould divest himself of pantomime when he puts 
 on the tragedian : dignity has a serene not a dis- 
 turbed countenance, it is not necessary for kings 
 and heroes to have scowling foreheads, nor for a. 
 man to look like a tyger in order to look -sensible. 
 INIr. Johnston wants studv: he lias every 
 external qualification for a tragedian, and his 
 genius I believe to be equal to twice it's present 
 eftbrts. He sometimes displays a powerful passion 
 with the manner and countenance of a noble 
 tragedian; but this is by happy starts, when his 
 genius gets the better of his habits. Those who 
 have seen him in the Tale of Myster}' will not 
 easily forget his vigourous picture of a conscience 
 yielding to the past and struggling with the future. 
 There is not indeed a vehement character which 
 with the proper study he might not attain, but it 
 requires a greater genius united with persevering 
 powers of study to comprehend one character 
 which he has attempted, and uhich is the most 
 difficult in the English drama, because it abound* 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — ME. H.JOHNSTON. 41 
 
 l)eyond all others in combinations of passion. It 
 must be the praise of a man, who shall possess a 
 genius capable of more than the art of acting, to 
 personate Hamlet, the gallant, the philosophical, 
 the melancholy Hamlet, that amiable inconsistent, 
 who talked when he should have acted and acted 
 when he should not even have talked, who with a 
 bosom wrung with sensibility was unfeeling, and in 
 his very passion for justice unjust, who in his 
 misery had leisure for ridicule and in his revenge 
 for benevolence, who in the most melancholy 
 abstraction never lost the graces of mind or the 
 elegancies of manner, natural in the midst of 
 artifice and estimable in the midst of error. 
 But let me not attempt to describe the inde- 
 scribable. 
 
 In all his studies IMn. Johnston should never 
 attempt the gay gentleman of comedy. His air 
 is always tragic, and when he affects the coxcomb 
 or the lady's man his habitual importance seems 
 to despise the character he is assuming. 
 
 '^LIF 
 
42 TIIEATniCALCnTTICISM. — MR. Mt'RRAY. 
 
 MR. MURRAY. 
 
 There is a genius for small things as well as 
 great : it is the genius of some men to astonish 
 and of others to keep us composed ; one man 
 raises our admiration by wandering in a brilliant 
 eccentricity, is always active, is always new; 
 another maintains our respect by pursuing a steady 
 line, he never errs and never amazes, he is looked 
 upon with complacency and followed with confi- 
 dence. The genius of Mr, Murray is a correct 
 mediocrity, and in his proper characters, which 
 he seldom forsakes, he is natural and impressive. 
 His person is not elegant nor is his countenance 
 animated, but his manner is altogether interesting, 
 and neither elegance of shape nor vivacity of fea- 
 ture are necessary to that kind of fatherly charac- 
 ter, which it is his peculiar happiness to exhibit. 
 Conscious of a want of vigourous powers he re- 
 presents to most advantage the mild seriousness 
 of declining life and the pathetic feebleness of old 
 age: there is no actor yIio could give a truer 
 
TH1EATR1CAL CRITICISM. — MR. MUKRAV. 43 
 
 picture of the faithful old steward in the comcdv 
 of As You Like It. It may seem singular enough, 
 that to exemplify the good performance of a tra- 
 gedian I instance his performance in comedy; but 
 I repeat, that a man is not a comedian because 
 he may chance to act a serious character in co- 
 medy ; he is like a grave personage in a compa- 
 ipy of jovial spirits ; he neither laughs himself nor 
 makes others laugh, and therefore he is no jovial 
 spirit though every body around him roars with 
 merriment. 
 
 Of such an actor as ]Mr. Murray there is 
 not much to write : things of one figure or of one 
 \ise are easily described ; a geometrician shall be 
 a long time in drawing a polygon, but he will 
 describe a circle in a moment. 
 
 I will merely advise JNIr. iNluRR ay never to at- 
 tempt the character of IManly in the Provoked 
 Husband : it is indeed somewhat serious and phi- 
 losophical, but it is also cheerful and elegant, and 
 requires a more youthful air than INIr. IMurray 
 4:an assume. 
 
J MtATniCAL CRITICISM. — MRS. POUII.T. 
 
 ]MRS. POWELL. 
 
 'Critics are without doubt the most unpolite 
 beings upon earth ; they have no more tendernei-H 
 for the faults of ladies than of gentlemen, arguing 
 very singularly that if ladies chuse to become 
 p\ablic characters they must endure public exami- 
 nation and sometimes public reproof; they say 
 curiously enough, that their peace is not to be 
 disturbed merely because a writer is called INIis- 
 . tress instead of Mister, and that they cannot be 
 delighted even though it is an actress that plays 
 badly and not an actor. All this is very shocking 
 and ungallant, but then it would be more shock- 
 ing if these ladies were to lose their wits for want 
 of a little rational advice. 
 
 What honest critic for instance could refrain 
 from giving Mrs, Powell some advice on her 
 ■frequent whim of assuming the character of 
 Hamlet ? I have heard indeed of females, whom 
 the vapours have induced to imagine themselves 
 !ea-pots: others have bewailed their transformation 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MRS. POWELL. 45 
 
 into pincushions, shuddering whenever tiicy saw a 
 needle or a bodkin; and there was a lady in Mr. 
 Pope's time who insisted she was a goose-pye and 
 was ready to fall into fits at the sight of a bishop 
 or an alderman : but we never before knew an. 
 instance of a female, who imagined herself, so 
 thoroughly a man in habits and in experience, as 
 to be able to represent the most difficult pictuie of 
 man on the stage. . / -^Z c<- ^ c>/^^.-? C' x ,,,., • _ -:- 
 It is at all times unpleasant to see a woman 
 performing in the dress of a man even without his 
 character, and authors had better avoid the intro- 
 duction of such a sight as much as possible : the 
 idea of a female following a man without discovery 
 in the habit of a page, which is the character 
 generally given her, is at least improbable, and 
 the manners of women in the dress of the other 
 sex are rendered aukward by the strange sensation 
 of novelty it must produce in their minds. Ac- 
 tresses are not famous for their bashfulncss of 
 deportment, their public exposure will not allow 
 so retiring a quality ; but they need not take pains 
 to render this confidence disgusting. It was the 
 opinion of Tassoxi,* the inventor of mock- 
 heroic poetry, that women introduced the custom 
 of wearing gowns to conceal their deformities of 
 
 * See Appendix, 
 
46 THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — UR9. POWELt. 
 
 shape ; but if any reason at all can be given for 
 the custom, I should rather think it was to heigh- 
 ten the beauties, that really existed, by adorninc; 
 them with modesty. Mystery always increases 
 admiration. Why is it that a lady's ankle is more 
 admired than a gentleman's ? Not because it is 
 more beautiful, but because it so seldom j^eps 
 from it's hiding-place. 
 
 But how can Mrs. Powell e.xpect to represent 
 men witli tioith, when she is obliged to copy wo- 
 men even at second hand ? She does not study the 
 female of the author, but that of Mrs. Siddons : 
 nature and Mrs. Siddons are indeed much 
 alike, but we should never study a copy when we 
 can study the original. I am persuaded that Mrs. 
 Powell is suffered to act the heroine in tragedy, 
 merely because the managers of Drury Lane thea- 
 tre have not a single tragic actress. Her concep- 
 tion of character has no boldness of fancy, and 
 therefore her expression has neither prominence 
 nor variety : like all inferior players she can ex- 
 press none of the combinations of passion, her 
 grief is a continued whine, and her dignity con- 
 sists in a mere elevation of the head and a lofty 
 measurement of the voice. Whenever she pro- 
 cures applause, the applause belongs to Mrs. 
 Siddons, because it is only in the imitation of 
 that sublime actress she ever wins a single clap. 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MRS. POW£LL. 47 
 
 Thus when the mother of the long-lost Douglas, 
 hearing the old shepherd relate how he found and 
 brought up a nobly spirited boy, cries out in an 
 anguish of impatience " Was he alive ?" every body 
 applauds Mrs. Powell in her delivery of that 
 exclamation, but every body knows that she copies 
 it exactly from jNIrs. Siddons. Mrs. Powell 
 however cannot copy the countenance of Mrs. 
 SiDDONS, and therefore in characters whose ef- 
 fect depends wholly on countenance she excites no 
 applause: the face of IMrs. Siddons in Lady 
 INIacbeth is a volume of terrible meaning, that of 
 Mrs. Powell is a blank page of no meaning at 
 all. 
 
 Nothing can be less interesting than a player, 
 who to obtain our applause is thus obliged to re- 
 mind us of another player. A man who could 
 imitate the nightingale might collect an audience, 
 but who would go to hear one that imitated the 
 imitator ? 
 
48 lUtAIRICAI. i;KniCIS»f. COMJEDT. 
 
 SECTION II.— COMKDY. 
 
 I COULD write a long treatise upon comedy ; I 
 could tell my readers that it's name is derived 
 from the Greek ; that the ancients did not know 
 as much of it as the moderns ; that some paltry 
 writers, such as Congreve, Dry d ex, and 
 Voltaire, have defined it to be a natural pic- 
 ture of human follies; and that divers great ge- 
 niuses, such as Reynolds, Dibdin, and Cii er- 
 RY, insist it means nothing but farce; but this I 
 leave to Miss Seward, or Mr. Pratt, or 
 some other original writer, who says a number of 
 good things qtiite foreign to the subject. I am 
 writing not upon authors, but actors. 
 
 Tt has long been a question, whether as great a 
 genius is required in comic as in tragic acting. 
 Tnis question must be agitated with respect to the 
 best actors only, for I have no doubt that medio- 
 crity is more easily attained in tragedy : a distinct 
 utterance and a grave iniliiTcrenccof visage, which 
 is the look of common life, will qualify a man ta 
 
THEATRICAL CraVUfSM. — COMEDY. 49 
 
 make subliiwe speeches on the stage, and to call liim- 
 selfa tragedian; he need not have any face what- 
 ever ; all that is necessary is to saw the air alter- 
 nately with the arms and to identify every sylla- 
 ble, and the newspapers will tell him he is a most 
 respectable performer. But to be comic it is ab- 
 solutely necessary to have a command of feature 
 and of tone : comedy deals much in equivocation, 
 the humour of which is enforced by the opposite 
 expressions of look and of tone, or by an agreement 
 of both differing from the speech itself. I could 
 bring twenty tragedians, that without either look 
 or tone, except a vacant seriousness and a hollow 
 monotony, shall go through twenty speeches in a 
 very respectable manner ; but shew me a single 
 comedian, that can do such a thing without being 
 hissed. 
 
 Nevertheless it appears to me, that a great trage- 
 dian is a finer genius than a great comedian. Pas- 
 
 ^ . . . 
 
 sions are more difficult of conception than habits ; 
 
 tragedy is wholly occupied with passions, and 
 though comedy is occupied both with passions 
 and hal)its, yet it is principally with the lat- 
 ter ; the passions of comedy are more faint than 
 those of tragedy, they are rather emotions and in- 
 clinations, for if they strengthen into a powerful 
 character they become tragic : thus sentimental 
 comedy, in which the passions sometimes exert 
 
 £ 
 
50 TIirATRIfAL CniTtf|«M. COMTUY. 
 
 all their strength, is notiiing more than an alter- 
 nate compound of comedy and tragedy, just as the 
 Orlando of AuiosTO or the Ltitrin of Boileau 
 is a mixture of seriousness and pleasantry.* 
 
 It is more diflicuU to conceive f passions than 
 
 * Ariosto did not profess to write after the rules of art, 
 uiid in such an «"ndicss diversity of subjects maj- be allowed 
 iliis mixture, wiiich indeed has given his poem a wonderful 
 f liantcter at ouce of «it and sublimity; but Boileau calls 
 his Littrin iin outrage de pure jilnisanterie, a work of mere 
 jilrasantry, and yet after fi'e humourous cantos he introduces 
 a s'.-rious allegory of Piety and Justice to compliment his friend 
 M. d' Lmnoii^nnn. This unexpected seriousness had been 
 placed with much h-ss offence in any part of the mock-heroic 
 rather than the end : it is an aukward tiling for a reader to 
 rise from a ludii rous performance with a grave face. 
 
 •f- I would not lie understood in the following argument as 
 using the words coiirrptioti and iniaginotinn indiscriminately. 
 Conception is a dependant and passive capacity, that receives 
 ideas sugijestcd by others, and therefore belong* principally 
 to the iiclnr, who displays the ideas of the poet. Imagination 
 is an <'riginal and active power, that forms it's own images 
 and impresses them upon the minds of others: it belongs 
 tiicrefiire more to the poet. But actors have sometimes to 
 imagine as well as to conceive, for if the suggestions of the 
 poet are few and feeble, they must l>e invigorated by the ad- 
 ditional ideas of the actor, who in this instance imnginrs as 
 well as rniiccivcs : thus the sublime action related of Mrs. 
 f?iDD0N.s in page '20 was entirely the result of imagination, 
 »; the author had given no suggestion whatever of such an 
 
THLATUKJAI, CRITICISM. — COMEDY. 51 
 
 hal)its, principally because the former are less 
 subject to common observation : in comic cha- 
 racters we generally recognize the manners or pe- 
 culiarities of some person with whom we are ac- 
 quainted, or who is at least known in the world : 
 but of the deeper tragic passions we have only 
 read, or heard ; we never sec in society an impas- 
 sioned character like Macbeth, or Kvtg Lear, or 
 Hamlet ; such characters exhibit themselves on 
 great occasions only, their very nature prevents 
 their appearance in common life ; but habits ap- 
 pear no where else : the idea of passion therefore 
 requires more imagination than that of habit. 
 
 Imagination then is the great test of genius; 
 that which is done by imagination is more difficult 
 than that which is performed by discernment or 
 experience. It is for this reason, that the actor is 
 to be estimated, like the painter and the poet, not 
 for his representation of the common occurrences 
 of the world, not for his discernment of the famili- 
 arities of life, but for his idea of images never 
 submitted to the observation of the senses. In 
 the polite arts imagination is always more cs- 
 
 idea. If the cliaracters in modern plays were represented 
 vilh the mere action and spirit whicli the ideas of the authors 
 suggested, they would never disgrace tJie stage for a whole 
 season instead of a single night. 
 E 2 
 
52 THEATBTCAL CRITICISM. — COMEDY. 
 
 teemed than humour: humour presents us wth 
 visible objects, imagination 
 
 bodies forth 
 
 The forms of tilings UDSccn,- 
 
 and gives to airy nothing 
 
 A local habitation and a nanae. 
 
 Both Smirke and Hogarth are great geniuses, 
 yet who will say that Smirke is as great a genius 
 as West, or Hogarth as Michael Angelo ? 
 Cong REV E knew all the elegancies and Butler 
 all the eccentricities of wit, and both were inti- 
 mately acquainted with the follies of mankind, yet 
 who <vill compare the author of Hudibras with 
 the author of Paradise Lost, or the humour of 
 Coxgreve with the sublimities of Shaks- 
 peare ? Swift is most probably the greatest 
 wit that ever lived, but he will never obtain a re- 
 putation equal to that of Milton or Shaks- 
 peare. It is obsened even of schoolboys, that 
 those who surpass their companions in humour 
 and mimickry do not promise so great a genius as 
 those who exhibit a serious and romantic disposi- 
 tion, who are fonder of Homer and Sophocles 
 than Terence and Plautus, and who in their 
 themes and declamations wander from familiar 
 expression into far-fetched and even extravagant 
 
THEATRirAL CRITiri5M. — COMEDY. 5o 
 
 language. Humour surprises and wins, but it 
 never elevates: it meets with too great fainiii- 
 arity our common ideas, and while it amuses us 
 with it's powers leaves us sufficient contentment 
 with our own : imagination surprises, wins, and 
 elevates too ; it carries us off from our level with 
 earthly objects and ordinary cares, it bears the 
 mind to it's highest pitch of ascent, transports us 
 through every region of thought and of feeling, 
 and teaches us that we have something within us 
 more than mortal. A tragic actor therefore, as 
 he displays more imagination, possesses a more 
 poetical genius than a comedian. This epithet, 
 if it is allowed in it's present application, might 
 finish my argument; the word poetical when ap- 
 plied to genius always indicates the highest 
 genius, and it is observable that those arts to 
 which the epithet can with propriety be given are 
 superior to those which disagreeing with it's im- 
 plied qualities have not sufficient mind to deserve 
 it. Thus a great painter is a finer genius than a 
 great musician, because he displays more imagin- 
 ation and consequently more of the poetical; 
 Hai^del, who rises to the sublime in music, is 
 a more poetical genius than Reeve, who deals in 
 the quirks and jolhties of the humourous ballad ; 
 and the lowest musician is a more poetical (jenius 
 
.Tl. TM) AIIUCAL CRITICISM. tO.MIPV. 
 
 than the maker of a musical instriinijiit, bocansc 
 the former requires some degree of in.auinution 
 while the hitter is a mere mnnufacturer. By the 
 same reasonini; Mrs. Sid dons, who excels in 
 the sublime and the pathetic, which require a \ >i\y 
 imaf;inati()n and powerful sensibility, is an actress 
 of a poetical mind ; but we can never say that 
 Mu. Lewis, who represents common lite and n 
 employed principally in meie copy, is of a genius* 
 rising to the poetical, though he is an excellent 
 comedian. 
 
 Another argument for the superior genius of the 
 tragic actor is his superiority of taste : he delights 
 in the highest of intellectual pleasures, the pathe- 
 tic and the sublime : he turns from the familiar 
 vanities and vulgarities of common life to the con- 
 templation of heroism, of wisd(mi,and of virtue ; he 
 is occupied with the soul only. The comedian on 
 the other hand has little to do with the intellectual 
 properties of hunlan nature; his attention is direc- 
 ted to the lii!;ht(r follies of men, to fashions and 
 habits, to the fannliar domestic manners, in short 
 to trifling and adventitious ([ualities rather than 
 to inlierent ciuiracler. This superior taste will 
 always be found united with superiority of genius : 
 nobody will deny, that Milton possessed a greater 
 taste than Butlek, Corxeille than Rabe- 
 
■fllLATKICAL CRFTtCISM, COMEHY. j.'i 
 
 LAIS, or Dante than Tassoni: Uaphael, 
 who studied the most beautiful objects, and excel- 
 led in the simple di^rnity of nature, and Guido, 
 who dipped his pencil in tears, strike us with they- 
 noble taste more particularly after we have .seerl , 
 the grotesque postures and monstrosities of C a l->v 
 LOT, or the historical attempts of Hogarth, who, 
 great as he was in humourous character and dis- 
 criminative of fine taste in others, certainly dis- 
 played no fine taste in his own serious works.* 
 
 I have always thought it an argument for the 
 superiority of poetry over the other polite arts, 
 that it is more productive of polite manners than 
 either painting or music. There is not a ])oot 
 
 * Hogarth ridiculed with infinite happiness the wf.jit ot 
 taste in painters, but he could not correct them by example. 
 Ilis serious pictures, so far from being modeli of grace, are 
 scarcely any thing better than unintended caricatures ; his 
 little Moses brought before Pharaoh looks like a schoolboy 
 approaching his master in all the fear of a whipping. If this 
 great genius however failed in the practice of taste, what must 
 we say to the tasteful theory of King George the Second, 
 who enraged at the picture representing the march to Finch- 
 ley, which was shewn him to procure his favour for the 
 artist, and thinking it a libel on his soldiers, peevishly asked 
 " IV/io is this Hogarth ? '' " Please ynur Majesty, he is a 
 painter.^'' " Bainter .'" exclaimed the elegant monarch ; " / 
 hale all Bainters and Boet s too .'" » 
 
56 IHCATUICAI. (niTICftU. — COillO\. 
 
 whose life is recorded by Du. JoiiNbON, nor 
 indeed any great poet, wiili vsho'-t.- private lli^lorv 
 ue are acquainted, who liid not bear tlie chaiac- 
 ter of a gentleman ;* ue cannot say this of pain- 
 ters, and certainly not of musicians. 1 do not 
 mean to argue tliat politeness is always a mark of 
 genius, for I meet with polite fools every day of 
 my life, though to be polite at all times and 
 upon all occasions, or in other ^'ords to be per- 
 fectly well-bred, is the eflect of no mean sense : 
 but as good breeding among men of genius is 
 generally found to be proportionate to their men- 
 tal excellence, we may conclude that the superior 
 manners of tragic over comic actors in private 
 life is some proof of their superior genius. A tra- 
 gedian being always occupied in the study of noble 
 manners and in the contemplation of great ideas, 
 naturally acquires a personal behaviour superior 
 to that of the comedian, who can seldom escape 
 the contagion of the familiar and ridiculous man- 
 ners which he di-lights to represent: mimics can- 
 
 * I could never exactly understand what Addison meant, 
 wlioii, in answer to a correspondent wlio desired to know the 
 chief qualification of a good poet, he replied " To be a very 
 well-bred man." But we may certainly gather from this reply, 
 that he had a very high opinion of the general manners ant) 
 polite character of great poets. Spectator, Ko. 3H. 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. COMEDY. 57 
 
 not always get rid of their mimicry; those who 
 are fond of imitating stutterers are often well re- 
 warded by becoming stutterers tliemsehes. It is 
 true, I advance this argument concerning the 
 politeness of actors not so much trom my own 
 experience, as from public opmion. But when 
 public opinions are lasting they are seldom wrong. 
 The public indeed might always settle disputes 
 about public men, if wc could obtain it's general 
 opinion ; and I have no doubt that it conceives a 
 higher character of tragic than of comic genius. 
 An audience, who on the same evening should see 
 Mr. Kemble in Kitig John and Mr. Ban- 
 nister in Young Philpot, would feel no hesita- 
 tion in thinking the former the greater genius^ 
 though it might be more delighted with the latter. 
 There are some people in the world, full of care- 
 less goodnature and merriment, whom every body 
 caXhjoUy fcUovcs, and witli whom every body thinks 
 himself on a level, because though they always 
 amuse they never elevate the mind. Such is the 
 admiration an audience feels for a comic actor : 
 there is something of respect wanting. The dig- 
 nity of the tragedian on the contrary, as it is ele- 
 vated above common life, is elevated above our 
 familiarity, and is contemplated with respect as 
 well as pleasure. 
 
.n 1 111 ATHICAL CniTICISM. COMLDT. 
 
 Nevertheless a comic iiciiius reqiiin-s no com- 
 )iion fancy and no common ohsorvaiion of life. 
 Tl)erc are tricks and shadows of character, which 
 are so rarely exhihitcd in the world, that they are 
 to be deduced from the probable effects of gene- 
 ral character r;ither than from known peculiari- 
 ties, and must tlierefore be left to the imagination. 
 The chief qualification of a comedian is an instan- 
 taneous perception of every thing that varies from 
 the general seriousness of human nature, or 
 from that behaviour which is contemplated with 
 a serious indiftcrence. This variation must never- 
 theless be found in real life, or it becomes farcical ; 
 and as the actor shews his genius in the concep- 
 tion of humourous character, so it is in the nice 
 division of comedy from farce that he shews his 
 judgment; such a division is a mark of his genius 
 also, for however an able comedian may sometimes 
 indulge in forced humour, a perpetual caricature 
 is always a mark of a lesser genius : it is like 
 bombast in tragedy, it paints to the senses not to 
 the heart, and diverts the attention of the audi- 
 ence from too close an examination into the 
 phiyer's imitative talent. When the actor is to 
 represent the ]Mcrn/-Aiidrcw drolleries of Rey- 
 nolds, ktliim, in the name of goodnature, do as 
 much as he can for the author bv all the crins 
 
THF.ATniCAI, CRITICISM COMEDY. 5^ 
 
 and grimaces his jaws can contrive ; hut let him 
 preserve in their noble simplicity of shape the 
 natural images of Siiakspeare and of Con- 
 greve; when we see the nature of those fine 
 geniuses distorted, it is like contemplating a 
 deformed person once beautiful ; we think of 
 nothing but the beauty it originally possessed, we 
 cannot laugh, we feel sorrow and pity. 
 
GO THrATKICAI. CRFTICISM. — Mn, BANNISxrR. 
 
 MR. BANNISTER. 
 
 When I write the name of Bankister, a hAt of 
 wliiinbical forms and humourous characters seems 
 to rise before me, and I had much rather lay 
 down my pen and indulge myself in laughtei. But 
 there is a time for all things ; laughter is a social 
 pleasure,' and as I have got nobody to laugh with 
 me, I had better be composed. 
 
 Mr. Bank 1ST er is the first low comedian 
 on the stage. Let an author present him with a 
 humourous idea, whether it be of jollity, of ludi- 
 crous distress, or of grave inditlerence, whether it 
 be mock-heroic, burlesque, or mimicry, and he 
 embodies it willi an instantaneous felicity. No 
 actor enters so well into the spirit of iiis audience 
 as well as his author, for he engages your atten- 
 tion immediately by seeming to care nothing about 
 you ; the stage appears to be his own room, of 
 which the audience compose the fourth wall : if 
 (hey clap him, he does not stand still to enjoy 
 tiieir applause; he continues the action, if he can- 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. BANNISTKR. 61 
 
 not continue the dialogue; and this is the surest 
 way to continue their applause. The stage is al- 
 ways supposed to be an actual room, or other 
 scene, totally abstracted from an observant nnilti-. 
 tude, just like the room in which I am now scrib- 
 bling : an actor therefore, who indulges himself 
 every moment in looking at the audience and ac- 
 knowledging their approbation, is just as ridiculous 
 as I should be myself, if I were to look every mo- 
 ment at the reflection of my own smiles in my 
 looking-glass, or make a bow to the houses on the 
 other side of the way. 
 
 Though I hardly know which excellence to 
 prefer in JNIr. Bannister's general perform- 
 ance, yet upon the whole I think his expression 
 of jovial honesty, or what may be called hearti- 
 ness, is the most prominent. There is no actor 
 who makes the slightest approach to him in this 
 expression, and therefore no actor equals him in 
 the character of a sailor. Mr. Munden gives 
 us all the rough, but none of the pleasant 
 honesty of a sailor, and he has at all times too 
 much grimace for natural jollity : the heart does 
 not study to torture the countenance. JMr. Ban- 
 nister possesses all the firmness with all the 
 generous goodnature of the seaman ; his open 
 smile, his sincere tone of voice, his careless gait, 
 his person that seems to have undergone all that 
 
iii llllAIIlIfAl. «nilICISM MR. bANMSlKK. 
 
 Ioii«; and robust labour that must gain the sailor a 
 (lay of ji)llity, in short every action otliisbocly and 
 his mind belongs to that generous race, of whom 
 (JiiARLES the Second observed they "got their 
 )Honey like horses and spent it like asses." 
 
 But this is not the only expression in which this 
 natural actor is unrivalled ; there is another, in 
 which he is, if possible, still less approachable bv 
 any performer, that of ludicrous distre\s. It is 
 extremely didicult to manage this expression so as 
 to render it ao;reeablc to the spectators, because 
 it is calcidated to excite their contempt: the only- 
 method is to unite with it an air of goodnature, 
 for goodnature is a qualification, in the possession 
 of which no degree of rank or of sense can be alto- 
 gether unnleasing. Bannister's natural air of 
 sincerity easily gives him this recommendation. 
 Who in the midst of laughter luis not felt for the 
 well-meaning Marplot whining at his unfortunate 
 interferences, oral the blusterous .^^cre* quaking in 
 the manfulness of his duelling ? I cannot conceive 
 a more humourous scene, than that in the Biials 
 where Acres is waiting with a pistol in each hand 
 for the man he has challenged : the author's dia- 
 logue between the challenger and his second pos- 
 sesses an exquisite humour, but it is doubly enli- 
 vened by the consummate bye-play of Bannis- 
 ter, who as the hour of combat approaches begins 
 
TUrATniCAL CRITICISM. — MR. BANNISTER. 63 
 
 to shew jiersonal symptoms of terror, gradually 
 loses the aft'ccletl boldness of his voice, and trem- 
 bles first in his hands and knees and then in his 
 whole body : no description of mine could repre- 
 sent the ludicrous woe of his countenance, when 
 he is coolly asked by his second, whether in case 
 of a mischance he would chuse a snug grave in 
 the neighbouring church, or be pickled and sent 
 home to the country ; nor can any action be 
 more humourously imagined, than his impotent 
 endeavours to pick up his hat which he pushes 
 about with his quivering fingers. 
 
 There is yet a tliird excellence in which he 
 would still have had no competitor, if the stage 
 had not lately been enriched by the acquisition of 
 1\Iath Ews, an actor of whom it is difficult to 
 say whether his characters belong most to him or 
 he to his characters. The greatest comedians- 
 have thought themselves happy in understanding 
 one or tvvo comic characters, but what shall vye 
 say of Bannister, who in one night personates 
 six, aiid with such felicity that by the greater part 
 of the audience he is sometimes taken for some 
 unknown actor ? If he never acted in any other 
 play, his performance of Colonel Fcignwell in 
 A Bold Stroke for a Wife would stamp him as 
 one of the greatest and most versatile comedians. 
 Of his five transmigrations, into a Beau, an antijuct- 
 
64 TUEATtllTAL CRITICISM. — MR. BAKMSTtK. 
 
 rian Traveller^ a Dutch Merchant, an old Stcuard, 
 and a (Quaker, the first is his least happy metamor- 
 phosis, because he cannot aftect an air of jaunti- 
 nrss: his imitation of an aukward beau, in the cha- 
 racter of Acres, for instance, is perfectly happy ; 
 but the robust person and the robust manners, 
 which render this aukward imitation easy, pre- 
 vent him from giving a real picture of finical 
 shewiness. The antiquarian Traveller, I do not 
 pretend to criticise; Ban xister makes it amus- 
 ing, as he does every thing ; but the authoress, 
 Mrs. Cextlivue, has made it like nothing 
 upon earth. That a man in a long beard should 
 pretend, in an age like this, to come to an antiqua- 
 rian with a story of his wonderful travels and of 
 a girdle that makes him invisible, and that he 
 should ])ut this girdle on the antiquarian and per- 
 suade him that he is not to be seen, is a story 
 lit for Mother Bunch's Tales only. If such a tra- 
 veller were to ccmie to one of the most duating 
 antiquaries living, he would be scut to Bow-street 
 for an impostor. But I am afraid I am wander- 
 ing too much upon Mus. Cuntli vkk, who 
 without doubt wrote the most entertaining dramas 
 of intrigue with a genius infinitely greater and a 
 modesty infinitely less than that of her sex in gene- 
 ral, and who delighted, whenever she could not 
 be obscene, to be improbable. If our antiqua- 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. BANNISTER. 65 
 
 rian Traveller, however, is not to be found in real 
 life, the Dutch Merchant is a very natural perso- 
 nage and is most naturally represented by Mr. 
 Bannister. Ever}' citizen in the Pit must feel 
 his heart grow wiuin when he '^ees the substantial 
 Dutchman come lounging with a sort of dignified 
 roll into the Stock Exchange, with one hand in 
 his breeches pocket and the other grasping a huge 
 toliacco-pipe, with an air in short expressive of 
 pocket-warmth and of a sovereign contempt for 
 every ( ne void of a good conscience nnd of stock : 
 this is another excellent sjK'cimen of Mr. Ban- 
 nister's idea of goodnatured bluntnessand plain 
 dealing, to which his natural air of sincerity, that 
 cannot be too often admired, so forcibly contri- 
 butes; it is a faultless imitation ; his very coat, 
 reaching almost down to his heels and swinging 
 as he walks, has something ,warm and monied in 
 it. The transformation into the Quaker is not 
 very difficult to any actor; an unm.eanins sodate- 
 ness of countenance and an inflexible stifl'iiess of 
 limbs are all that is requisite : for thi« reason any 
 of our indifferent comedians can assume this image- 
 character, and there is a man of the name of 
 Dormer, who, though he enn do nothing else, 
 performs Obadiak Prim very ii.sipidly and very 
 naturally. But Mr, Banni«ti-r's metamor- 
 phosis into the dccrepid Old t:Ucu-ard whining for 
 
 F 
 
60 TiifATniCAL mrTinSM. — mr. nANKisirn. 
 
 the (loath of liis master is as admirable as it is 
 tlifliciilt. 'I'lie state of old age is a condition, of 
 which no man perhaps can enter exactly into the 
 personal freliiii^s: it ha*, no desire of motion ; bnt 
 a player is always wishinsi; tt) he in a state of ac- 
 tion, and acquires a hahit of cxcrcisinj:; his limbs 
 momentarily, as mav bo soon sometimes in his 
 gestures otf the stage, 'i'ho piiiicipal deficiency 
 in the representation of old age generally arises 
 f.oni this propensity to motion. Thus an 
 indiftcrent plaxer, who naturally thinks that a 
 stick will add to the dccrepid appearance of 
 ajje, forgets his support in the eagerness of 
 winning applause by a show of energy, an<l 
 tluimiis the floor or amuses his chin with it. An 
 actor named Purser, who is very well when he 
 plays the fool, and then only when the fool is a 
 footman, sometimes misrepresents old age in this 
 manner, and beat* his mouth with his cane when 
 he would affect an attitude of thought, like a 
 voung beau in a room who does it ior want of 
 thought. But Mr. Bannister in his old age 
 is not Mr. Banxister in his manhood: he 
 loses at once all his natural vivacity and robust- 
 ness of manner, and sinks into (hat dependant • 
 feebleness which seims at once to fear and to 
 look for protection from every surrounding 
 object. Other old men on the stage take 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. BANNISTER, 6?" 
 
 off their hats or pull out their handkerchiefs 
 as composedly as young men ; but Mr. Bannis- 
 ter has the perpetual tremulousness and impo- 
 tent eagerness of superannuation : if he takes out 
 a paper, he quivers it about before he can open it, 
 and if he makes a speech of any length he enfee- 
 bles it by frequent breaks of forgetfulness and 
 weariness, with that sort of pause, which seems as 
 if it were recollecting what had already been said, 
 or prei)ariiig for what remained to be Sviid. One 
 admirable mark of the feeble impatience of age 
 must ever be remembered as one of the most na- 
 tural originalities in Mil. Bannister's persona- 
 tion of the Old Steward. In thanking the heir of 
 his deceased master for continuing some family 
 favours to him, and in promising to overcome the 
 violence of his grief for so heavy a loss, he trem- 
 bles through four or five words with tolerabi« 
 composure; but suddenly bursts out into a weep- 
 ing of inqjatient recollection and exclaims with 
 rapidity — " But when I think of my poor master 
 my tears will flow." An inferiur actor would have 
 added these words to his promise of patience in 
 the same tone; but Mr. Bannister under- 
 stands that violent grief becomes only tlie more 
 violent from temporary-repression. 
 
 But to enumerate all the original excellences of 
 Mr. Ban nisteu's comic genius would be toena- 
 F 2 
 
68 TIir.ATRICAL (RITirrSM. — MR. n.\XMSTF.r. 
 
 incrate ovcrv ccnnic character lie performs, and 1 
 mu!>t not lii)i;or on tlie recollection of liis mischicv- 
 oiis bovi>liness in Tnnij Lumkin, hisgood-luimour- 
 0(1 vuli^aiitv in Scri'h, or Lis shuttin" vanity as the 
 tootinan hissardo, wluii he delijihts himself and 
 torments his neclectcd mistress by displavinp his 
 new ring, or endeavours witli an important interfer- 
 ence to settle the disputes ol the two maid servants 
 in love with him. 1 here is one performance how- 
 ever, of which it is impossible not to indulge my- 
 self in the recollection. It is that of Young P/iil- 
 pot in Murphy's comedy of the Citizen : if any 
 thing can excel the grave nioniechiess he affects in 
 order to cheat his father, it is his description of the 
 garret-aulhor, of that miserable pamphleteer who, 
 lioldingone baby on his knee and rocking another 
 in the crudle with his foot, is writing a political 
 essay with his right hand while he occasionally 
 twirls round a scrag of roast pork with his left: 
 during this description the mirth of the audience 
 becomes impatient to express itself, till the admi- 
 rable mimic having wound up his climax by a pic- 
 ture of the author's wife washing clothes in a corner 
 to the song of SuKt I\is^iunoJ Luic, it bursts into 
 a tempestuous approbation. As this descri|)lion is 
 introduced by the author of the Citizen as a mere 
 anec«lote related by Voinig P/ii/pot, a common 
 actor would have tuld it in a passing way as anec- 
 
THEATRTCAt eRITICISM: — ME. BANNISTER. 69 
 
 dotes are commonly related : Bannister puts 
 himself in the situation of the belaboured pamphle\ 
 teer, he dandles his child, then writes a line, then"" 
 rocks the other child, then writes another line, then ^, 
 gives the griskin a twist ; his hankerchief is taken 
 out and he becomes the author's wife, accompa- 
 nies the dabs and scrubbiniijs of the washing-tub 
 with Siveet Passion of Love, and as it's ardour 
 grows more vehement screams out the tender love- 
 song to the furious wringing of her small linen, I 
 am afraid I am a little prolix here, but what we 
 remember with delight we are always precise in 
 describing, lest we should not tell the story as well 
 as it was told us. 
 
 Mr. Bannister in short inhis comic charac- 
 ter is always animated, is always natural, except 
 when he assumes the lively gciitlaimn : the attain- 
 ment of tliis character does not appear tu be in the 
 nature of his broad vigourous style of acting : he 
 is a giant bestriding a butterfly. His JShrcutio is 
 not gay, hut jolly ; it exhibits, not the elegant 
 vivacirv of the gentleman, but the boisterous mirth 
 of the honest fellow : the audience immediately 
 feel themselvis on a level with him, and this 
 familiar sensation is always a proof that the gtn- 
 tlcman is absent, Tiie passion for affecting this 
 character is unfoilvmately almost as universal on 
 tlie stage as it is in real life : an act'n- thinks he 
 
70 THEATRICAL CRITICTSM. — MR. KANMSTER. 
 
 has nothing to do but to dress liiinsclf fasliioniibly 
 and clap a cocked hat under his arm, and ho be- 
 comes the gentleman ; thus the stage is crowded 
 with genteel comedians, from Mr. Henry John- 
 ston, who is nothing less than a tragedy iuro in 
 a round hat, down to Mr. John Palmer, who 
 looks as if he had just emerged from a kitchen ; 
 and yet, after all, thcri; are Imt two actors who 
 are happy in an elegant vivacity. 
 
 But it is worthy of greater pi-aisc to catch the 
 feelings than the manners of men. I\Ir. Ban- 
 nister contrives to mingle the heart with his 
 broadest humour, and it is this union of things so 
 often remote that constitutes his most solid praise: 
 FooTK could imitate every body, but he was a 
 mere mimic though an admirable one : fv w of 
 our modern comedians have any feeling; I'aw- 
 CETT has very little, Simmons has none, Lewis 
 fritters his away, and Munden mocks his own 
 pathetic with a thousand wry faces. The most 
 pleasing excellence is that which is performed with 
 the least effort ; to mingle feeling with humour, 
 and humour with feeling, seems to be Mr. Ban- 
 jjister's nature rather than his art ; this felicity- 
 gives him another praise, which he must be con- 
 tent however to sliare with Dowton, an actor, 
 whom I conceive to be one of the first comic 
 geniuses our stage has produced. Tor the qualifi- 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. BANNISTER. 71 
 
 cation, to which I allude, I do not know that 
 there is any name : the Italians, whose motley 
 productions have given them a knack at verbal 
 compounds, may have an appellation fur it that I 
 have not discovered : it cannot be called tragi- 
 comedy, for though it breathes a gentle spirit of 
 humour, it's essence is really serious ; it differs 
 widely from ludicrous disircss, for though it raises 
 our smiles, it never raises our contempt, but in the 
 inidbt of our very inclination to be amused abso- 
 lutely moves us with a pathetic sympathy ; per- 
 haps it may be defined the funnouruus pathetic, 
 the art of raising our tears and our smiles together, 
 while each have a simple and distinct cause. But 
 I shall explain myself best by example. 
 
 In the play oi John Btill,\\\\\c\\ glimmers with 
 the hasty genius of an author who could do better, 
 the principal character, called Jo6T//o;v;/»f;vj/, is a 
 country tradesman of an excellent heart and much 
 natural sense, who being forsaken by a seduced 
 but amiable daughter, is overwhilmed alternately 
 Avith indignation at her fault and pity at i>cr mis- 
 fortune ; there is a vulgarity about the man, but 
 it renders his grief more natural ; his thoughts, 
 unrestrained by refinement, suggest no concealment 
 of emotion, and therefore he isloud and bitter in his 
 sorrow. This abandonment to his feelings, acting 
 upon manners natundl}- coarse, produces now and 
 
72 THEATRICAI. CRiriCI^^M. — MR. BANN'ISTER. 
 
 then a kind of aukward pathetic, at which we can- 
 not but sniilo : theactor's skill thcirforc should pre- 
 vent the pathetic from degeneratinji into a mere 
 laughable eccentricity, it should interest our feel- 
 ing while it provokes our risibility, in short should 
 depress while it enlivens and enliven while it de- 
 presses. This union of opposite eti'ects requires 
 some portion of tragic as well as comic powers, 
 and Bannister's Job Thornberry is respected 
 with all its bhintness, and pitied with all its 
 oddity; the teai-s and the smiles of his audience 
 break out together, and sorrow and mirth arc 
 united. When the spectators are inclined to be 
 inerrv, he recalls their sympathy with some look or 
 gesture of manly sorrow ; when they are fixi'd ott 
 his grief, he strikes out their smiles by some rapid 
 touch of peevish impatience or some whimpering 
 turn of voice. It is thus that he holds the balance 
 i)i tragic and comic feeling in the charncter of 
 }t'(iltcr\\\ the Vlii.I'lrtH in the Wood, though in his 
 representation of that honest servant as well as of 
 the dishonest one in the lUama of Deaf and Dinitb,. 
 he shews that he ran divist himsi-lf entirely of his 
 mirth, and though he assumes nothing of the dig- 
 nity of tragedy, can expnss its homelier feelings 
 •v,\xh a strongly continued eH'ect. When he returns 
 home, in the Children in the II uod, after ha>ing 
 lost the infants, and careless of his enquiring 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM, — MR. BANNISTER. 7S 
 
 friends, drops with a stare of mute anguish into 
 a seat, he produces as true a feeling in the 
 audience as Mrs. Siddons would produce in 
 loftier characters. Then again his natural coarse 
 chearfulness, struggling with his sorrow, breaks 
 forth in some quaint reply or ludicrous habit of 
 gesture. This is the true art of acting. A player 
 who gives us none of these to'uches and varieties of 
 character is like a Chinese painter, whose men 
 and women are mere outlines, with indistinct 
 dashes for features. 
 
 Bannister would really be an unexception- 
 able actor, if he could think no more of the man 
 of fashion and elegance. Wliat Voltaire said 
 to Cong REV E, when the latter hoped he was not 
 visited as an author but as a g( ntlcman, may be 
 said with sufficient politeness by the town to M ii.. 
 Bannister, " If you were nothing butagenth- 
 man, sir, depend upon it I should not take the 
 trouble of coming to see you." 
 
7-t THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. LEWIS. 
 
 xMR. LEWIS. 
 
 It is not necessary to turn hermit and live upon 
 roots in order to fiain a healthy and animated old 
 age ; temperance is the strengthencr of existence 
 equally in the city and in the field ; if old Paur 
 when he was upwards of a hundred years old 
 stood ill a white sheet for an oflence not very pos- 
 sible to old age, the great Newton, at a period 
 of life little less advanced, rexievved and corrected 
 the most profound productions of the human mind. 
 The powers of .Mr. Lew is at the age of rifty-seven 
 will not astonish those who have considered these 
 matters, but they will astonish every one who has 
 an impaired memory or a shaking hand, they will 
 astonish those old young men who cannot carry a 
 glass of wine to their lips without making all the 
 angles in Euclid. 
 
 It must however be universally surprising, that 
 of the only two actors on the stage who can 
 represent the careless vivacity of vouth, an old 
 man is the most livelv. Elliston irives us an 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. LEWIS. 75 
 
 excellent picture of youthful animation, but it is 
 an animation corrected by an attention to the 
 gentleman : Lewis is all heart, all fire ; he docs 
 not study forms and ceremonies, he is polite from 
 a natural wish to please, and if he is not always the 
 gentleman nobody doubts what he could be. This 
 comparison will be well understood by those who 
 have seen the two actors in the character of Rover 
 in IFild Oafs. In the scene where the young rustic 
 expresses his ad mi ratiouofiiorcr's theatrical talents 
 and at parting shakes his hand with good-natur- 
 ed familiarity, Elliston in the midst of his 
 reciprocal good humour has too much the air of 
 one who condescends ; Lewis gives the bump- 
 kin as hearty a shake as if it had been his brother 
 and forgets every thing but the honest soul of his, 
 new acquaintance. 
 
 It is in characters like these, full of frankness, 
 and vivacity, that Mr. Lewis claims an original 
 excellence. I do not see by what propriety he has 
 been called by the exclusive title of Gentlemun 
 Lewis ; perhaps it is because he never acts vul-- 
 garly, and without doubt vulgarity seems totally 
 impossible to nn actor of his manners : but it docs, 
 not follow, that he who never acts vulgarly should 
 always act with refinement. The character of a 
 complete gentleman is a very difficult one to de- 
 fine, perhaps it consibts in the power of pleasing 
 
70 TnEATKICAL CRITICISM.— MR. LEWIS. 
 
 refincdly; but this refinement is the consequence 
 of an habitual study to ])lease, and the careless 
 goodnature of some characters represented by 
 Mr. Lewis, of Rover for instance, does not 
 please by its refinement but by its innate goodness 
 of heart. I'hat tliis last qualification is not neces- 
 sary to the centlenian is a melancholy truth which 
 every one who has seen the world must acknow- 
 ledge : Car, Earl of Somerset, was the most 
 polished as well as the most abandoned man of 
 his time, and that courtly scoundrel, the Earl of 
 Chesterfield, who would have made his own son a 
 hypocrite and a liar, was the finest gentleman in 
 Europe. 
 
 As it is impossible howe\er in real life to find 
 a man without his defects, so if we meet with one 
 on the stage, who has every excellence of mind, 
 he may still exhibit the defects of habit or of tri- 
 fling affectation. The habitual errors of Mu. 
 Lewis seem to bo the effect of a too lively rather 
 than a too dull conception of character. His 
 two princq al detects are a shaking of tlic head 
 and a respiration ol the breath, expressive of a 
 kind of self-satisfaction al a cunning or what is 
 called akiioKuig idea: these expressions moderate- 
 ly used might throw much meaning into his man- 
 ner; but the more natural they are when consi- 
 dered as the eflectuf asuddeii hajpinessof tlioiight. 
 
THT.ATRrr,ALCRrTIC:rSM MR. LFAVU. 77 
 
 tlic moiv unnatural they become when they en- 
 deavour to throw vivacity into dull or indiilerent 
 speeches, since it is not the manner should enli- 
 ven the thought Init the thought should enliven the 
 manner. Perhaps the chief reason wh)' French- 
 men appear so frivolous to us, is the perpetual vi- 
 vacity of their manner upon the most unimportant 
 occasions and during the most inanimate speeches; 
 and the worst of this habit is, that when these vi- 
 vacious gentlemen really do mean to be peculiar- 
 ly impressive, they have no more effect upon us 
 than at any other time, because their manner can- 
 not be more important, than it has already been 
 upon trifles. It must be observed however, that 
 Mr. Leavis's extreme vivacity is an error attri- 
 butable to the great interest he takes in his cha- 
 racters, and not, like the erroi's of INIr. Kemble, 
 to that abstracted artitice which induces the actor 
 to study his audience more than his character. 
 
 But for the other defect of this actor, his ec- 
 centricities in dress, I know not how to ac- 
 count.* Of all ridiculous characters on the stage, 
 the modern beau should be the most accurately 
 dressed, because his attention to dress is one of 
 his most I'idiculous failings, and because we ob- 
 serve it every day in real life. Mr. Lewis in 
 such a character not only dresses himself in wiust- 
 * Sec Appendix. 
 
78 THEATniCAr. CBITICISM. — MK.l.rWIS. 
 
 coats and brcpchcs in which nobody else dres- 
 ses himself, but very frequently astf»nishcs us by 
 flaming in coats ribbed and coloured : if he could 
 divest himself on such occasions of his native ele- 
 gance of manners and would merely stick a nose- 
 gay in his breast, he might pass for an ancient 
 French dancing-master, he might look like a lord 
 mayor's footman, but he never will be a fashiona- 
 ble beau. The otily reason we can possible ima- 
 gine for such an extravagance is the same that in- 
 duced the late .Mr. Murpuy to wear a bag-wig 
 to the day of his death, and that still induces a 
 certain lady of rank to cumber herself with the 
 sacks and hoop-petticoats of the last reign; per- 
 haps chequered coals were the fashion in Mr. 
 Lewis's youth, and as he was much admired in 
 them at that time, he considers his powers of pleas- 
 ing as some way connected with a Harlequin jacket 
 still. This is the only drawback on the excellence 
 of Mr. Lewis's beau, which in every respect 
 of mind (if the word mind mav be used when 
 speaking of beaux) wants nothing of perfection. 
 
 Mr. Lewis is without doubt the most com- 
 plete fop on the stage : he inimitably aflects all 
 the la!)orious carelessness of action, the important 
 indifl'erencc of voice, and the natural vacuity of 
 look, that are the only social distinctions of those 
 ineffable animals called loungers. 
 
THEATRrCAL CRITrCISM. — MR. LEWIS. 79 
 
 Yet from this very excellence arises a defect in 
 Ills freneral style of acting. That which is the 
 chief cuiployinent of our minds, generally gives a 
 turn to all our ideas ; the same hal)it, which makes 
 the shopkeeper so often allude to his business in 
 common conversation, induces Mu.Kemble to 
 carry his natural important stiffness into all his 
 characters, and gives a tinge of the beau to JNIr. 
 Lewis in his most finished portraits of the gen- 
 tleman. In his elegant sentiment, in the very 
 seriousness of his love, there is a flippant airiness, 
 a vivacious importance, a sort of French flutter, 
 that hurts the sincerity of his manner and looks 
 more like a study to recommend himself than to 
 please others for their own sakes. The less he 
 has to do with the polished gentleman, the less 
 does he practise this frippery, and the little 
 which he preserves at all times adds to the harm- 
 less nonsense of some of his characters, and gives 
 to his less refined ones an affectation by no means 
 unpleasing. If his Squire Groom in LoveA-la-mode^ 
 who is a Newmarket hero, has now and ihen a 
 little too much of refined action for the blood, it 
 must be recollected that the Squire is paying his 
 addresses to a lady, and may therefore be allowed 
 to affect something a little out of his sphere. 
 
 With this character in Love A-la-mode, if I were 
 writing a panegyric instead of a criticism, I would 
 
f!0 TiiTATRrrxr. cp.rTicisM. — mr. iewis. 
 
 5iim lip my hisjlio;?! praises of Mr. Lewis. Who 
 should tear th(> approach of old a£;o, should dread 
 it's debility of fiame and it's dissoluiion of in- 
 tellect, when they see what temperance can pcr- 
 foim ? For mv piirt, when I see an old man, who 
 wears a star and is called His Grace, tottering 
 and couirhina upon a bolstered poney, and another 
 old man, whom nobody can discover to be old, 
 sporting on the stage with all the vivacity of 
 youth, I bless my good fortune that I have to 
 hibour for my future livelihood, and say to m}'- 
 self " It's much better to keep one's health than 
 to keep a seraglio." 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. MUNDEN. 81 
 
 MR. MUNDEN. 
 
 On^e of the most amiable effects of the modern 
 drama is to injure those to whom it is most in- 
 debted for support. If the principal characters 
 of Reynolds and of Dibdin are always out of 
 nature, their representation, as I have already hin- 
 ted, must be unnatural also ; and as our comic 
 actors are peipotually employed upon these pun- 
 chincUos, as they are always labouring to grimace 
 and grin them into applause, they become habitu- 
 ated and even partial to their antics, and can never 
 afterwards separate the effect from the means, the 
 applause. from the unnatural style of acting. The 
 extravagance therefore of look and gesture, so 
 necessary to the caricatures of our farci-comic 
 writers, they cannot help carrying into the charac- 
 ters of our best dramatists, to which it is every way 
 injurious. 
 
 This is the great fault of Mr. I\IuNDEN,who is 
 unluckily oncof the strongest supports to ourgigan- 
 
 G 
 
82 TUKATRICAL CRITICISM MR. VUNDEV. 
 
 tic farces, and whose powers, like his features, have 
 been so twisted out of their proper direction, that 
 they seem unable to recover themselves. Almost 
 the whole force of his acting consists in two or 
 thrceludicrousgesturesandan innumcrablevariety 
 of as fanciful contortions of countenance as ever 
 threw woman into hysterics : his features are like 
 the reflection of a man's face in a ruffled stream,, 
 they undergo a perpetual undulation of grin: every 
 emotion is attended by a grimace, which he by no 
 means wishes to be considered as unstudied, for 
 if it has not immediately its effect upon the specta- 
 tors, he improves or continues it till it has ; and I 
 have seen his interlocutor disconcerted, and the 
 performance stopped, by the unseasonable laughter 
 of the audience, who were conquered into thr 
 notice of a posthumous joke by this ambitious 
 pertinacity of muscle. 
 
 All this suits admirably well witli a character 
 entirely farcical, or with one that has no intrinsic 
 humour, and I recollect no actor, who by the mere 
 abuse of his features could gain so much favour for 
 a mod«-rn comedy. If ever such an abuse becomes 
 natural, it is in the deformity of drunkenness. 
 Mk. Mun'dex tliercfore, whose action is as con- 
 fined as his featuns an* vagrant, excels in the 
 relaxed gesture and variable fatuity of intoxication, 
 liis most entertaining performances arc always of 
 
THF.AJRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. MUKDEN. 0? 
 
 this kind, as that for instance of Crack in the 
 Turnpike Gate and the Captains servant in the 
 musical puppetshovv called the English Fleet. 
 His altitude and looks in the latter piece, when 
 he receives a ring from a lady as a reward for some 
 courageous service, his tottering earnestness in 
 contemplating the honour on his finger, and the 
 conscious glance which he turns now and then at 
 his captain behind him, exhibit a masterpiece of 
 drunken vanity. These are the touches which 
 brighten the miserable daubs of our dramatists, 
 Avhich throw life into their inanimate figures, and 
 character into their half-formed countenances. 
 Mr. Mun den, in his imitation of an intoxicated 
 man,alwaysshe\vshisjudgmentbystandingasmuch 
 as possible in one place. Ouractors in general seem 
 to forget, that a person under the influence of liquor, 
 unless he is almost insensible, always attempts 
 a command of himself and restrains his motions as 
 much as the weakness of his limbs will permit ; 
 they are too fond of reeling round the stage, and 
 jerking up one leg at every step, like a tavern blood 
 affecting his six bottles. I have heard that the 
 late Mr. Suett used always to be really drunk 
 when he performed a drunkard, but the generality 
 of our performers may certainly be exculpated 
 from such a charge : perhaps the orily actor who 
 approaches Munden in this exquisite display of. 
 ct 2 
 
R4 THFATRICAr. CniTiCrSNf. MR. MfNUtN. 
 
 brutality is Mk. Robekt Palmer. Truly we 
 btiiyi'-critics treat of lolty matters ! 
 
 But of simplicity ^Ir. Munden shews not a 
 shadow ; and as old men in general, and particularly 
 old soldiers and citizens, have long forgotten the 
 antics of schoolboys, this perpetual mouth-making 
 destroys his natural npreseniation of ago : no 
 man in years accompanies his whole conversation 
 with this harnjony or rath.ir this discord of fea- 
 ture; an old sohlier would di spise it as boyi.sh, and 
 an old citizen as unprofitable : an old courtier 
 perhaps, if his king is fond of buffoonery, is more 
 likely to accommodate his countenance to the 
 sallies of those about him, but when Mr. Mux- 
 den represents PoLOKirs, he forgets he is in a 
 gloomy court, where the king and queen are 
 afliicted with nu laneholy and the voung ))nnce 
 Hamlet supposed to bi- di.ran<;ed. In his i)er- 
 formance of Menenius in Curiolaiim, this buf- 
 foonery IS still more inconsistent. Men en i us was 
 a man of wit and prudence, and is celebrated in 
 history for his fable of tlie belly and the mombcrb, 
 w ith w hich he appeased the discordant tUvisions of 
 the people : Siiakspeare, taking advantage of 
 the familiarity of that popular address, has per- 
 haps rendend the language and the manners of 
 Menenius too generally f;imiliar, and given the 
 comedian an opportunity of displaying his merri- 
 
 jpF 
 
THEATRICAL CRITTCISM. MR. MUNPfM. Ccr 
 
 riKnt rathor too broadly; but it should never be 
 toriiottin, that Mex EN It's was not only of the 
 patrician order, a class of men proverbially 
 haughty, but that he was the intimate friend of the 
 haughty Coriolanus, who was the proudest 
 man in Rome and not very likely to associate with 
 buffoons. If Shakspeare therefore, in his 
 fondness for generalizing the character of men 
 and in his determination to avoid what may be 
 called a chronology of nature, has represented 
 i\J E N E N 1 u s in the light of a merry old modern no- 
 bleman, the actor would shew his art and his clas- 
 sical judgment in preventing his mirth from extra- 
 vagance by every possible temperance of action, 
 so that the man of humour might not entirely over- 
 come the man of rank. At any rate -NIk. Mcx- 
 DEN should endeavour to moderate the restless- 
 ness of his muscles in representing a patrician and 
 a senator. But then the galleries would not 
 laugh. 
 
 This actor in short loses half his proper effect 
 by the very strength of his powers : he brings as 
 much expression into his face for an emotion or 
 even an inuendo, as he ought for the liveliest pas- 
 sions: thus he rarely gives us the shadows or 
 gradations of feeling, from the mere exertion 
 of his expression : he is a jumper, who in order 
 to leap four yards, takes a spring that inevi- 
 o 3 
 
8G THEATRICAL CRITICISM. MR. MUSDIIX. 
 
 tably carries him six : he is like that poetical artist 
 Mn. TusELi, who to exhibit his anatomical skill 
 discloses every joint and muscle of a clotiied 
 figure, when he should merely shadow out their 
 appearances. 
 
 Strange ! Bv the ineaii'^ defeated of the ends ! 
 
5H£ArniCAL cruicism. — tin. fawcett, 87 
 
 MR. FAWCETT. 
 
 When original genius cannot be displayed, a 
 mere peculiarity or eccentricity will sometimes 
 obtain as much notice, though it's success will 
 not be so lasting. It is to this eccentricity must 
 be attributed the praise \vhi<;h indiifercnt actors 
 as well as indifferent writers have now and then 
 gained from the public, and to much ot" it ]Mr. 
 Fawcett is chiefly indebted for his present 
 popularity. 
 
 A hastiness of action, a singular harshness and 
 rapidity of utterance, and a general confidence of 
 manners, constitute the great efi'ect of this actor's 
 performance ; and as these are qualities that 
 want little diversity to produce laughter from the 
 galleries, he succeeds in characters of broad farce. 
 His harshness and rapid strength of utterance arc 
 indeed very powerful peculiarities, and he con- 
 trives to give them their full glory in his assaults 
 on the risible muscles of his audience: there is 
 
88 TIlEATRiCJAL CRITICISM. — MR. FaWCEIT. 
 
 something so ctfectual in the jovial hurry ol" hl^ 
 voice and the rough complacency of his con- 
 cluding hems, that the audience are always pre- 
 pared to laugli when thiy hear his preparatory 
 gabbling behind the scenes, and I really know no 
 actor, except Mcnden, who can procure so 
 much applause for characters and speeches intrin- 
 sically wretched. Those who have seen him in 
 Mr. Co lm ax's exc^ui^ite farce of the RiTien) 
 and in Mk. Dibdin's farcical farrago of J'he 
 Miles Oy \\\\\ recollect the wonderlul cfl'ect of 
 his peculiarities and the consummate air of droll 
 self-satisfaction, with which he rushes through 
 his merry speeches. I cannot dis^cover a single 
 performer wlio could represent the ever-busy 
 and ever-talking Caleb Qitotcm in the former 
 farce with such power of action and of voice : 
 Mathews cannot but amuse in the part, but 
 he must exactly imitate Fawcett, if he wishes 
 to succeed in what was evidently designed for 
 that actor's i>eculiaritics: he must imitate the 
 character and tlje actor too, when they are both, 
 as it were, intentionally identified, and as he very 
 properly avuids imitation, when he possesses such 
 excellent originality, he hail better avoid the part 
 altogether. He fails particularly in the rapid 
 singing of Fawcett, who contrives with the in- 
 dulgence of the author, to introduce his rushiii" 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. FAWCETT. ,81> 
 
 style into most of his original songs. The praiscN, 
 of excellent comic singing must indeed always 
 be allowed Mr. Fawcett, for though almost 
 every comedian can contrive to sing humourously 
 with the assistance of good music, yet few of 
 them can display his readiness of ear for harmo- 
 ny, and his peculiar skill in burlesque melody. 
 
 ]\Ir. Fawcett however does not undertake a 
 single natural character which might not be more 
 skilfully represented by his contemporaries. In. 
 his attempts at gentlemanly vivacity he becomes 
 aukward and vulgar, like all the professedly low 
 comedians, whose stage habits always cling to 
 them with a malicious inveteracy. For this reason 
 he is invariably deficient in such characters as 
 Bob Handy in Speed the Ploi/gk, in which an air 
 of genteel restraint must occasionally be thrown 
 over the boisterous spirits of good humourcil 
 youth : nothing can be more gravely ludicrous 
 than his attempt at serious astonishment in this 
 character, when Sir Philip Biandford with much 
 awful preparation details to him a murderous 
 story: at the climax of the horrible relation he 
 assumes the protuberant mouth and raised eye- 
 brows of burlesque doubt, and seems about to 
 exclaim " Woh ! You don't tell me so !" Nor is 
 his display of old age a jot happier than his con- 
 ception of elegant youth : his violent habits of 
 
00 THEATRICAL CRITICISU. — iiR. I'AAVCtTT. 
 
 sppi>ch and action will not suffer him to sink int» 
 the feeble and subdued spirit of an old man, and 
 perhaps there never was a more complete failure 
 in every gradation of character than was excm- 
 •})liricd in his attempt of Lord Oglcbxi in the Cluii- 
 deatinc Carriage* In his sailors and servants 
 he is always amusing with his roughness and con- 
 lidence, but it is the roughness of an actor deter- 
 mined to nioet the sympathy of the galkries aiKl 
 the confidence of one who assures himself of ap- 
 plause. The sea-faring character, as I have- 
 before said, belongs almost entirely to Bannis- 
 ter, and to Bannister and Mathews per- 
 haps the cunning and obsequiousness of the ser- 
 vant : in the part of Trappanti, for instance, in 
 ■Cibbeu's comedy of S/ic Would and She Would 
 Not, Mr. Fawcett is bustling, impudent, and 
 important, but he has none of that occasional 
 conscientious suspicion, none of that air of slouchy 
 roguishness, none of that hang-dog meditation 
 of countenance, with which Bannister so 
 inimitably shades his general vivacity. It is 
 unlucky indi-ed for Mr. Fawcktt, that he 
 provokes comparison with this excellent come- 
 dian by a frequent performance of the same 
 parts; but nothing shews with more nicety the 
 superiority of the latter, than his acknow- 
 
 ■* See Appendix, 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. FAWCETT. 91 
 
 IcdiTod improvement of characters originally 
 represented by AIr. Fawcett, since the first 
 performance generally identifies in the minds of 
 the town the performer with his character, and a 
 ileparture from his manner is usually imagined to 
 be a departure not only from the nature of the cha- 
 racter, but if the play be a new one or produced 
 in the actor's life-time, from the intention of the 
 author also. In the character of Job Thornberry 
 for instance, which has been criticised in the 
 article upon Bannister, Mr. Fawcett makes 
 vulgarity predominate over feeling and is unin- 
 tentionally ludicrous when he should be en- 
 tirely pathetic: when Bannister undertook 
 the part he exhibited a new alternation of the 
 humourous and the pathetic : Mr. Fawcett's 
 grief is ludicrous in itself, Mr. Bannister's in 
 it's alteration to peevishness or obstinacy : ]Mr. 
 Fawcett blubbers when he should weep, since 
 it docs not follow, that when a brazier weeps we 
 should discover his profession by his mode of 
 weeping, for sorrow can sometimes throw an air 
 of refinement even on vulgarity : Mr. Bannis- 
 ter knows this, and gains the respect of his 
 audience by a manly sorrow, Mr. Fawcett 
 in short is pathetic where his author has distri- 
 buted touches of feeling that the rudest hand 
 cannot efface; JMu. Bannister gives his au- 
 
02 THFATPrcAi. cniTirrsM. — mr. fawcett. 
 
 tlmr addirionnl fccliiii; as well as addilic^nal 
 humour, ho holds the sympathy of tlie audience 
 ill the nicest bahmcc, and witli a word or a sii:h 
 can influence the scale as he pleases. Of another 
 of Mr. Fawcktt's original characters, that of 
 Dr. Pan(;loss in the Hdr cf Lou, Mn. Ban- 
 >'ISTER certaiiilv i)resei;ts a more natural pic- 
 ture: it is little to ohjtct, that .Mil. Colman 
 might have written the part on purjMjse for Mu. 
 Fawcett, for though an author may distort 
 nature by giving his characters to farcical actors, 
 the strength of his pen may still be powerl'ul 
 enough, with the assistance of a belter actor, to 
 spring back to it's rectitude of etl'ect. Mr. Faw- 
 cett is without doubt inlinitely amusing in tlii-s 
 obsequious tutor, but nature has notlung to do 
 with his powers of pleasing : the readers of the 
 character, who had never seen it whirled about by 
 Mr. Fawcett's rude vivacity, would picture to 
 themselves a servile pedant, ready to say and to 
 do any thing for money, but still so much wrap- 
 ped I'p in his own learned importance as to 
 preserve the pedant's ancient attributes, a stiti" 
 solemnity and a slowness to action : such is the 
 character Ma. Baxnister exhibits in opposi- 
 tion to the joyous intonations and boisterous ac- 
 tivity of Mr. Fawcett. The Doctor professes 
 much horror at dancing or at any otiier violent 
 
lilEATRICAL CKirrOISM. MR. FAWOETT. 93 
 
 derangement of his philosophic gravity, but from 
 Mr. Fawcett's perpetual restlessness of limb 
 and rapidity of utterance one would imagine that 
 the Doctor would have made an excellent danc- 
 ing-master. INIr. Colman calls the Ihir at 
 Law a comedy, but JNIii. Fawcett certainly 
 exerts himself with success to make it a farce : 
 and so it will always be, while an actor's chief 
 study is to make his characters merely laughable. 
 Some of these performers think they gain no ap- 
 plause unless they have raised a tempest of 
 laughter: they forget that the most exquisite 
 humour is that which provokes the least mirth ; 
 that wit, so superior to mere humour, disdains 
 the acknowledgment of external laughter and is 
 content with that feeling of pleasure and surj)rizc 
 which may be called the laughter of the mind ; 
 that a pantomime clown in short, when he breaks 
 his nose against a door, boasts a wilder burst of 
 a])plause than genuine comedy perhaps ever 
 obtained. 
 
 INIr. Fawcett may be numbered among those 
 unfortunate actors, whom the modern farci-coniic 
 writers have contributed to spoil ; and indeed, if 
 a man has been accustomed from his youth to 
 illustrate the genius of a quack, what arc we to 
 expect but that he will be a merry-andrcw all 
 his life ? 
 
94 TilF.AlItlCAL CRITICISM. MR. SIMMONS. 
 
 MR. SIMMONS. 
 
 This performer, for tlie sake of effect, may vcrj,- 
 well be contrasted with rAWCFXT: liis ability 
 is not so various nor pcrluips .so originally strong, 
 but iiis style is unassiirnin^T, correct, and delicate : 
 he neither thrusts himself upon attention by ve- 
 liemcnce or confidence, nor constrains it by dis- 
 tortions of feature, voice, or linil). If there is a 
 quaintness in his manner, it is a natural not an 
 affected one, and it luckily suits his characters, 
 for he does not attempt many, and what he un- 
 dertakes he always performs. 
 
 Simplicity like this is easily described ; and il 
 is really a relief to my memory after pursuing 
 the arufices of corrupt actors through all their 
 inazes and distortions, to rest upon the easy nature 
 of Mr. Simmons, mIio is an original actor 
 without the vices of originality, without pre- 
 sumption, without an uiulistinguisiiing confidence 
 of abilitv. I scarcely recollect a more natural 
 
TKEATRrCAL CRITICISM. — MR. SIMMONS. 95 
 
 performance, than his representation of Beau 
 Mordccai in Love A-la-Mode : perhaps there is 
 something of caricature in the touch of beard at 
 his chin, but nothing can be better expressed 
 than the little Israelite's affectation of jauntincss 
 or than the ignorant vanity Avhich induces him to 
 think every body else an object of ridicule while 
 he himself is the perpetual butt of the company. 
 Before the secession of Johnstone from Covent- 
 Garden, I think it was one of the most complete 
 feasts on the stage to see all the persons in this 
 characteristic farce represented by excellent 
 actors, by Simmons in the Beau Jew, John- 
 stone in Sir Callaghan O'BraUaghan, Lewis in 
 Squire Groom, and Cooke in Sir Archy M'^ Sar^ 
 casm. 
 
 Simmons displays very little variety either ^f 
 look or of action ; his peculiar excellence is the 
 representation of feeble intellect exhibited either 
 in the shape of mere simplicity or of simplicity 
 encouraged into aft'ectation, and pure wiakness 
 of mind is of too reposing a nature to indulge in 
 much diversity of manner. His happiest expres- 
 sion is that of a silly importance hurt by neglect. 
 In the character of Fainmoiid in Mr. Kenny's 
 amusing farce of Raising t/it Wind, his bridling 
 stiffness and a voice, which has a natural tone of 
 ludicrous complaint, are exquisitely adapted to 
 
96 THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. SIMMONS. 
 
 that dignified personage, who has been driven 
 Ironi town by ihe giggbng impeitinenre (■( the 
 girls and seeks concealment and respect in the 
 country. 
 
 Mr. Simmons in short is fit for a better ago 
 of writers ; or rather, what aclor is not ? It i;* 
 lucky for him indeed, that he has not so much to 
 do with the present race of dramatists as most 
 of the comedians, and infinitely to his credit that 
 when many of them think of nothing but their 
 author's farce, he preserves as well as he can -a 
 likeness to nature and chastens in manner what 
 lie cannot correct in speech. Every actor indeed, 
 who repeats the nonsense of these scribblers with 
 all it's effect, hurts his own reputation in jiropor- 
 tion as he would extend theirs, for when the owl 
 screeches the echo mu^t screech too. 
 
VHEATRICaL criticism. — MR. LISTON. 9( 
 
 MR. LISTON. 
 
 Those comedians whoare the most liappyiii tlair 
 study of nature might very probably, witli the 
 slightest attention, become equally happy in cari- 
 cature, for as they must learn to separate nature 
 from it's contrarieties, so they must undoubtedly 
 understand the contrarieties to be separated. 
 Gaurick, who understood nature in ail it's dif- 
 ferences, was an admirable mimic, and I can dis- 
 cover no natural comedian of the present day, 
 who is not also an excellent caricaturist, unless 
 indeed we except Dowton, who seems to have 
 no powers but for powerful nature. 
 
 A natural actor however may be said to be 
 natural in two distinct senses; he maybe correct 
 in the representation of nature, or he may be 
 correct in the representation of the deviations 
 from nature, and either of these correctnesses is 
 called natural, for this word is applied to imita- 
 tions not in it's expression of the qualities of 
 « 
 
 y 
 
98 THEATRICAL CUITICISM. — MU.I.ISTON. 
 
 nature only but in it's n-lation to any appearance 
 in life, natural or artificial, involuntary or assu- 
 med ; thuswe say that ]Mus. Siddoxs is natural 
 in her cNpression of grief, which is a natural pas- 
 sion, and that ISIii. Mathews is natural in his 
 imitation of Punch, who is certainly no very 
 natural personage. 
 
 In Mr. LiSTOx's best performances he may 
 be called natural in every sense of the word. His 
 accuracy of conception enables him to represent 
 with equal felicity the most true characters and 
 the most aftected habits, and he passes from the 
 simplest rustic to the most conceited pretender 
 with undiminished easiness of attainment. The 
 actor never carries him beyond the charac- 
 teristic strength of his part ; he adds nothing of 
 stage affectation and diminishes nothing of nature ; 
 yet his manner is so irresistibly humourous, that 
 be can put the audience into good humour with 
 less effort perhaps than any other comedian. 
 
 His happiest performances arc his ignorant 
 rustics, and hi>> most inaccurate his old men. 
 Of mere old age he represents nothing. If his 
 usual style of acting is of a still nature, yet it is 
 not able to sink into personal weakness or weari- 
 ness ; if he is often (juaint and dispassionate, his 
 general simplicity gives him too youthful an air 
 to represent the experience and the acquired art 
 
THEATRICAL CrvITICISM. — MR. X.ISTON. 99 
 
 of a long lite. His old men therefore arc old in 
 nothing but their wrinkles and walking-sticks, 
 and as he cannot see his own wrinkles and does 
 not in common want a stick to support himself, 
 his accustomed youthful spirits soon make him 
 forget both. 
 
 In more youthful characters of little vigour, 
 whose chief quality is a mixture of ignorance 
 and self-complacency, Mu. Liston indulges in 
 his proper feebleness. There may be observed a 
 general repose of limb and of intellect in his style 
 of acting exquisitely conducive to the character 
 of contented folly ; he can seem at ease 
 with all around him, but most voluptuously so 
 with himself: his smile of conceit is most pecu- 
 liarly significant and enjoying, and I tliink that 
 the happiest picture of ignorant vanity I ever saw 
 was his representation of the foolish military in- 
 amorato in the disjointed farce of Catch Ilim W/ia 
 Can: nothing could be more irresistible, when he 
 wished to insinuate any one of liis pt-cuhar ac- 
 complishments, than the curvature of his extended 
 hand, the languid drop of his eyelids, and the 
 thaw of his usually rigid muscles into an affected 
 easiness of smile. For his performance of the 
 Quaker In Five Miles Oj/' hfi h to be praised, if 
 it is only for divesting the manners of the Quakers 
 of their stage-exaggeration, and contenting himseif- 
 it 2 
 
100 llIFMniCAI, CRITICISM. — MH. MSTOK. 
 
 with the caricature which their vcfjetatini]; aftVc- 
 tiition really produces in itself. Mathews 
 jMrhaps h:i(l done this before in Miss Cham- 
 bers's elec;ant comedy, tlie School for Friends, 
 but a good deal depends upon the author iu these 
 cases, and the picture was so judiciously drawn 
 bv Miss Chambers, that it was next to impos- 
 sible to render it extravagant, Mr. Dibdik, 
 wiUi equal judgment no doubt, always leaves room 
 for the caricaturing fancy of the actor, for Le 
 canri'M produce a picture even badly finished ; 
 but -Mu. LisTON made his Qwrz/ar like something 
 natural in spite of the farcical speeches put into 
 his mouth, which a Quaker uould call profane, 
 and thefaixical love-song, which a Quaker, whose 
 sect neversings, would shudder to hear. He neither 
 walked in one undeviating strait line, nor glued 
 his clasped hands to his bosom, nor conversed in 
 the recitative of a parish-clerk, nor rose at every 
 emphasis upon his toes, nor ended all his speeches 
 with a nasal groan. The actors are much mis- 
 taken, if they think the quakers do all this even 
 on enthusiastic occasions: a stage-quaker, like 
 MuxDEN in jnid Oats, dances up and down to 
 his own sing-song like a stiff puppet on a hum- 
 flrum barrel-organ ; but I question whether those 
 ucll-clothcd ascetics would not consider thif 
 
THF.ATrHAL CRTTICISM. — MR. IISTON. 101 
 
 oxtrmie as approaching to the abominable art of 
 music. 
 
 It is in the rawness of country simplicity 
 that Mr. Liston excels all his contcmporariea. 
 A mere rusticity is not difficult of cor.ception, 
 for it exhibits itself entirely in personal habits 
 and those the most easy of imitation, because 
 they require little or no controul of limbs or of 
 countenance : but the different expressions of 
 absolute inexperience, it's astonishment, it's af- 
 fected incredulousness and real credulity, it's 
 utterly false conclusions, and it's self-betraying 
 involuntary acknowledgments, require a nice ob- 
 servation and a powerful explanation of coun- 
 tenance and voice. They who have seen IMr. 
 LiSTON ns Jacob Gaxvl,y\n I\Iiss Lee's Chapttr 
 of Occidents h&\c seen all these varieties inimita- 
 blv separated and expre,-.sed. lUit his peculiar 
 expression of amazed ignorance shines with all 
 it's stupidity in a singular drama called the Three 
 (Old the Deuce.* He represents a country lad, 
 who imagines his sister to have been seduced by 
 a vivacious gentleman, and accordingly taxes the 
 seducer with his crime in a very homely way: 
 the gentleman, who is one of three brothers 
 exactly resembling each other and who really 
 knows something of the girl but wishes to divert. 
 
 * See Appendix. 
 H 3 
 
102 TIIF.ATRrrAI, CRITICISM, MR. I.ISTOK. 
 
 the rustic's attention, starts into one of his usual 
 fits of gaiety, and seizing his brother's astonished 
 footman, who had taken him for his grave master, 
 byonohand,and the rusticby theoth(T,commences 
 a majestic minuet which he accompanies with 
 some burlesque song ; the footman, who had been 
 fre{|ucntly astonished already by this merry alter- 
 ation of his supposed master, is represented l)y 
 Mathews, who joins in the dance with a coun- 
 tenance perfectly convinced of the man's insani- 
 ty ; but LiSTON, whose faculties seem deadened 
 by this freak and who has evidently risen from 
 mere amazement to an admiration of the gentle- 
 man's lively talents, acciuiesces in the movement 
 with a submission most ludicrously earnest, and 
 follows the stegs by a ^cming magic, at once imi- 
 talinf his leader's aficctcd importance and ap- 
 pearing totally abstracted from every earthly 
 consideration but his present enchantment: his 
 moutJi is open and fixed,^ his eyes scarcely staring 
 but full of a leaden attention, and his face alto- 
 gether expressive of an iuefiable mixture of ig- 
 norance, admiration, and astonishment. Tliis is 
 certainly one of the most ludicrous scenes on the 
 stage, and really pro\()kes one to laughter by the 
 very recollection. 
 
 Upon the whole, Liston is a vory original and 
 a very uuatl'ected actor J nor is he of the lower 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. LISTOIf. lOS 
 
 runk of comedians, for he excels in painting emo- 
 tions rather than habits,* and therefore has a more 
 intellectual praise than Fawcett, than Sim- 
 mons, and oven than JMunden in his present 
 degenerate farcicality. What Dryden said of 
 SnADWEi^Lin an intellectual sense, jnay be ap- 
 plied to Mr. Liston in an imitative one,, for he 
 must be 
 
 own'd, without dispute. 
 
 Tiiro' all the realms of noiisenbC, absolute. 
 
 * A further elucidation of ISTr. Liston's theatric 1 cha- 
 racter by a comparison with that of Mr. Emery Mill be- 
 found in the next article. 
 
 'VX^ 
 
 ^^-3*^*: 
 
101 TUEATHICAL CKITICISM. — MR. EMf.nY. 
 
 MR. EMERY. 
 
 If education, or early habits, or a former profes- 
 sion will sometimes enable an actor to represent 
 any peculiar character to more advantage, the 
 same causes will oflenprevent his success in f)thers, 
 and it is most likely, tluit for one imitation which 
 they may enliven, tluTe will be several which will 
 insensibly catch the habits of that one and there- 
 fore be injured. Thus Incledon the sin^^er, 
 whose meril^ raised him from the coarse vulgarity 
 of a sea-life, and who has really a liner voice than 
 any English singer on the stage, ever succeeds in 
 descriptions of his former life, but when he at- 
 tempts a love-song or any other more refined part 
 of his science, he cannot help reminding us of 
 the sailor; his voice swells into it's ancient jollity 
 and indulges, if I may use the word, in that slang 
 of sound, which expresses at once joviality, con- 
 fidence, and vulgarity : after the finest tones in 
 the world and in the midst perhaps of very pa- 
 
TUEATllICAL CniTICISM. — MR. EMERY. 105 
 
 tlietic words he seems about to slide off into a 
 Right fol de ra or some such energetic burden of 
 ballad-singing. 
 
 It is most probably the same with INIr. Eme- 
 ry. I have been credibly informed, that he has 
 a touch of country dialect ofl" the stage, and as 
 his early life is the most likely cause of such a 
 habit, it may certainly be presumed that it is 
 tan cause also of his theatrical deficiency in 
 variety and of the obstinate contradiction which 
 this dialect makes to the truth of all his charac- 
 ters but his countrymen. 
 
 Mr. Emery is an actor of little variety, how- 
 ever he may attempt it or however he may be 
 dissatisfied with his exquisite powers of rustic 
 imitation. He does not err so grossly indeed as 
 to attempt young gentlemen, like Fawcett, 
 but even his ungcnteel or his vulgar old ones 
 might convince him, if men could ever know 
 themselves, that he can act nothing without rus- 
 ticity. Independently of his dialect, he cannot 
 shake off his natural activity of body and of mind 
 and compose himtclf to the frcblenes,'^ and dull- 
 ness of age. His old Count Ci/rvoso in the Ca- 
 binct looks like a tall lad wiih a round ruddy face 
 who had painted his forehead with wrinkles for a. 
 frolic; and it was certainly a strange judgment 
 in the manager of the Haymarket theatre, which 
 
t06 THEATTirCAL CRITJCISM. — MR. EMERTv 
 
 gave him the vulj^ar old peer in the Heir of Laic 
 and the youDg countryman to Mundex, who 
 has nothing rustic about him, unless indeed some 
 of his grins bo like those merry monstrosities ex- 
 hibited at country fairs through a horsccollar. 
 The same deficiency in the imitation of age I have 
 already observed of Listox, so that our two 
 principal rustics are in this respect unequal to 
 the other good comedians. 
 
 It is in the general habits of rustics, personal, 
 moral, and intellectual, that Ma. Emery dis- 
 plays his decided and great originality. To pro- 
 duce all the examples of this ability would be to 
 write a list of all his rustic characters, for I do 
 not know one in which he is not altogether excel- 
 lent and almost perfect. But when an actor does 
 not excel in many distinct classes of character, I 
 do not think it necessary, in oider to estimate his 
 powers, to enumerate a great number of his per- 
 formances, for there is seldom any di'icrencc in his 
 rej.resentation of one class of persons but what is 
 made by thi- ditii rence of dialogm-. Emery's 
 class of rustics may lie divided into three parts^ 
 the serious, the comic, and the tragi-comic, and 
 the three admirable exam;>!es which may be pro- 
 duced of this variety will stutiice fir a multitude of 
 monotonous ones. Of that expression, which di- 
 verts with it's manner while it raises a serious im- 
 
THEAXniCAL CRrXICrSM. — MR.EMEKY. 107 
 
 pression with it's sentiments, and which is there- 
 fore so difficult in it's complication, Mr. Emery 
 exhibits a powerful instance in the character of 
 Fanner Aahfidd in Speed the Plough. Inferior 
 actors indulge their want of discrimination in 
 representing every countryman as a lounging vul- 
 gar boor, for as they catch externals only they 
 are obliged to exaggerate them in order to supply 
 the deficiency of a more thorough imitation, Mr. 
 Emery understands all the gradations of rustici- 
 ty : his Fanner Ashficld, though it occasionally 
 raises our mirth by it's familiarity and it's want 
 of town-manners, is manly and attractive of re- 
 spect : like the master of a family, he always ap- 
 pears attentive to the concerns of those about him, 
 and never breaks out of his natural cares and em- 
 ployments to amuse the audience at the expense 
 of forgetting his character. In an actor, who 
 excels chiefly in gross rusticity, this species of re- 
 finement might have well set bounds both to his 
 own expectation of \ ariety and to that of his au- 
 dience ; but the play called the School of' Reform 
 gave new light to his genius, and in tlie character 
 of the rustic villain T^kc he astonished the town 
 by a display of feeling and passion almost amount- 
 ing to the most thrilling tragedy. His perform- 
 ance in this play I must call tragicomic, not 
 because he displayed that amalgamation of the 
 
t03 THFATRirAt. CRITICISM. MR. EM FRY. 
 
 humourous and tlic serious, which the word trairi- 
 comody ill our aero implies, but because, as it's 
 ancient meanins; signified, he excelled in alternate 
 scenes of comedv and tragedy. Tliis single dis- 
 play indeed would ha\e indua^il me to rank Mu. 
 Emery with the performers who have gained re- 
 putation both in tragedy and comedy, but I recol- 
 lected that, however critics may talk aboutthe suf- 
 ficiency of terror and pity to create tragic delight, 
 all ages have agreed by their own measure of ap- 
 probation to demand a certain degree of refine- 
 ment as a necessary recommendation of those 
 feelings, and that wh'^n Mr. Emeiiy hud exhibit- 
 ed a new talent and raised an unexpected wonder 
 for the moment, he had done as much as a tra- 
 gedy rustic Could do, for his diahct and his man- 
 ners would inevitably have rendered his tragedy 
 comic in a very short time. IIcme, in his Dis- 
 sertations, has thought this refinement so requi- 
 site, that he has in a great measure, deduced the 
 pleasurable elicct of tragedv from the beauty of 
 the poet's language rather than the nature of his 
 characters, ihoush this doctrine seems a curious 
 disproportion of the means to the end, and the 
 object of his enquiry appears to me still undisco- 
 vered. That such a refinement however is emi- 
 nently desirable a few familiar recollections 
 would convince us. Those tragic writers, who- 
 have ventured farthest into the iV.miliarity of prj- 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. EMERY. 109 
 
 vate lifo, have always elevated their characters 
 above the usual level ot common life, particularl}' 
 with regard to language: and with stiil greater 
 care would they have avoided any national or 
 local peculiarities of person or habit. George 
 Barnwell for instance was a common city appren- 
 tice, "but does he talk as apprentici^s usually do? 
 or to equalize the case more with that of Eme- 
 ky's Ti)ke, would the author have ventured to 
 give him the cockney dialect ? would not such a 
 dialect, though it might have been endured at 
 the first utterance and in some scene of peculiar 
 suffering to the speaker, have totally deranged the 
 gravity of the pit in a few moments ? Every tragic 
 effect however, short as it may be, which is possi- 
 ble to be^produced from a vulgar character, I\[r. 
 Emery certainly produces from this. Ti/ke is 
 a villanous rustic, who has not suflficient strengtli 
 of mind to shake oti' his dcpi-avcd habits though 
 he is occasionally agonized by the tortures of con- 
 science. It is in the scene where he describes the 
 agony of his old father, as he stood upon the 
 beach to witness his son's transportation, that he 
 surprised us with this tragic originality. His 
 dc'scnption of their last adieu, of his parent 
 kneeling to bless him just as the vessel was mov- 
 ing, of his own despair, the blood that seemed to 
 .burst from his eyes, and his fall of senselessness 
 
110 TIIKATUICAL CRITICISM. — MR. EMEUY. 
 
 to the gntuinl, was givi-n with so unexpccttd an 
 elevation ol niamier, so wild an air of wretched- 
 ness, and with actions of sueh pitiable self-abhor- 
 rence, that in spite of his country dialect which 
 he still very naturally i)rescrved and the utter vul- 
 garity of his personal appearance, the audience on 
 the first ni<iht were eUctrilied for the moment 
 with the truest terror and pity. His hacgard 
 demeanour and the outcry of his despair live be- 
 fore me at this instant. 
 
 I scarcely know in what class of acting to place 
 his performance of Caliban * in the Tempest, 
 perhaps in that which I have ventured to call the 
 humourous pathetic, for a great distinction must 
 be made between those two styles which our lan- 
 guage has indiscriminately called tragicomedy, 
 between an alternation of the tragic and the 
 comic, and that disagreement of the language 
 with the speaker, the effect from the cause, or the 
 end with the intention, which renders a real seri- 
 ousness ludicrous. The humour of Ca/itffrt (though 
 I think there are many persons, to whom this 
 monster appears too much persecuted and too re- 
 vengeful to beat all humourous) must rise from his 
 roughness of manners and his infinite awe at the. 
 divinity of the sailor who had made him drunk, 
 and this roughness as well as awe Mii. Emery 
 
 * Sec Appendix. 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. MR. EMERY. Ill 
 
 most inimitably displays, particularly in the vehe- 
 ment manner and high voice with which he cur- 
 ses Pruajyero and that thoughtful lowness of tone 
 softened from it's usual hoarse brutality, with 
 which he worships his new deity. Mr. Emery, 
 notwithstanding the coarseness of style necessary 
 to the parts he performs, is a truly poetical actor, 
 and in all the varieties of his poet's flight keeps 
 by his side with the quickest observation. In this 
 character he again approaches to terriric tragedy, 
 when he describes the various tortures inflicted on 
 him by the magician and the surrounding snakes 
 ■that " stare and hiss him into madness." This 
 idea, which is truly the "fine frenzy "of the poet 
 and hovers on that verge of fancy beyond whicii 
 it is a pain even for poetry to venture, is brought 
 before the spectators with all the loathing and 
 violence of desperate wretchedness : the monster 
 hugs and shrinks into himself, grows louder and 
 more shuddering as he proceeds, and when he 
 pictures the torment that almost turns his brain, 
 glares witli his eyes and gnashes his teeth with an 
 impatient impotence of revenge. 
 
 I am afraid it is somewhat like anticlimax to 
 descend to broad farce after all this display of 
 terror ; but the most natural excellence of Eme- 
 ry is in the mixture of rustic ignorance and cun- 
 ning, and of this mixture his John Lwup in the Re- 
 
 V. 
 
112 THEATRfCAi. cnrrrciSM. — mr. emery, 
 
 zicw is an inimiiable instance. In each successive 
 scene, the fancy of the author has given him an 
 opportunity of showing his unwearied flow of na- 
 ture and of humour. Whether he is recommend- 
 ing himself to Mr. Deputy Bull as a servant by a 
 list of unnecessary rustic accomplishments, or 
 bashfully attending to the supposed overtures of 
 Miss Grace Gaj/lovc, or felicitating himself, in a 
 vain soliloquy, on the beauty of his person, he ex- 
 hibits the same knowledge of every movement and 
 sensation of gross rusticity. In this last sceni'. 
 wljen he has just parted with the lady, and medi- 
 tated a little, nothing can be better imagined than 
 his half-smothered spluttering laughter of triumph 
 at his fancied importance to the lady's heart. A 
 piteous or joyous contempt of others, the result of 
 rustic ignorance, is indeed one of his best expres- 
 sions ; and he is inimitable in that peculiarity of 
 gesture which affects a superiority in sense or arti- 
 fice, and announces tlie eagerness of vanity by 
 preceding it's language; sucli, for instance, is the 
 protrusion of chin and earnest self-satisfaction 
 with which he commences a story or prepares him- 
 self to convince another by argument. 
 
 If our two stage-rustics, E.meky and Listox, 
 are compared, it will be found, that the former is 
 more skilled in the habits and cunning of rustici- 
 ty, and the latter in it's simplicity and ignorance. 
 
 / ' 
 
TIlEATniCAL CRITICISM. — MR. EMEKT. IJ? 
 
 E.MEUY has appropriated to himself the dialectsS. 
 and the personal peculiarities of countrymen ; Lis- 
 TON -h the rustic merely because nothing so ig- 
 norant and so gaping is ever discovered in town. 
 Emery excels in vain insolence, in the fatigue of 
 comprehending another, and in the meditation cf 
 a cunning answer; Liston in the apparent ina- 
 bility to object, in a hopelessness of perception, 
 and in the fatuity of mere astonishment. Their 
 expression of vanity is in proportion to their ex- 
 pression of ignorance : what is tiic atlectation of 
 superiority in Emery becomes an important self- 
 conviction in LiSTOX. Emery, full of whim. 
 and artifice, is the countryman who has associ- 
 ated with the geniuses of inns and has preserved 
 his rusticity and his ignorance after acquiring a 
 contempt for both ; Lisxox is the confirmed, 
 inexperienced, and stupid bumpkin, with all the 
 prejudices of unvaried locality and with not even 
 sufficient intelligence to imbibe the manner and 
 eccentricities of his neighbours. Upon the whole, 
 LiSTON is more dry in his humour, more effective 
 with a little exertion and upon inefiicient sub- 
 jects, and altogether more unaffected ; but the 
 greater genius must certainly be allowed to Emc- 
 RY, who exhibits a more discriminative minute- 
 ness and variety of expression, and who excels at 
 once in the habits and the passiop.s of the coun- 
 I 
 
114 TIIEATniCAL CniTICJSM. MT. EMnRV. 
 
 try. Ill proportion as an actor can piorco beyond 
 externals into the human heart, so is he great in 
 his profession. The actor of habits is a gartliner, 
 who raises elegant flowers and distributes gaudy 
 parterres, but knows nothing beyond tiie surface 
 of the cartli. The actor of passions is a miner, 
 who digs into the depth and darkness of the crea- 
 tion and brings to light it's most hidden and 
 valuable stores. 
 
THEiTRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. WEWITZER. 1 15 
 
 MR. WEWITZER. 
 
 Wit is the same in all countries, because it springs 
 from something nol)ler than the habits of mankind ; 
 but nothing shews more decisively the partial na- 
 ture of humour than the ludicrous lii ht in which 
 one particular people views the manners of ano- 
 ther. To an Englishman for instance nothing 
 can be more (h-oU than the vivacious habits of th<' 
 French, while they arc contemplated with the in- 
 most gravity by an Italian or a Turk. If onl}- what 
 is French however afforded this species of jilca- 
 santry, much of it's zest might be attributed to the 
 maliciousn(*ss of national antipathy; but, whether 
 it be owing to the natural pride of islanders sepa- 
 rated from the rest of the world, or more proba- 
 bly to the universal moderation observable in the 
 actions and thoughts of our countrymen, every 
 thing that presents a strong contract to English 
 manners becomes laughably obnoxious to Englisii 
 taste. For this reason the English comedy 
 
i\6 THEATRICAL cr.niCISM. — MU. WLWITZr.R. 
 
 abounds in Frcntli, German, and other foreign 
 characters, who are merely humourous in pro- 
 portion as they differ from the habits of the audi- 
 ence either in dress or manner; a long pigtail 
 exhibits a volume of droll meaning, and a little 
 broken English is something eminently gratifying 
 to the pride and learning of the galleri<'s. 
 
 Since much of this humour, particularly when 
 the object is a l-'renchman, dcpi nds upon jerks of 
 the hand, shrugs of the shoulder, a nasal tone, 
 and a languid carelessness of eye, the actor has 
 juuch more to do with it than the author ; and it 
 would be difficult to recollect a single character 
 of the kind performed by Mu. Wewitzeu, our 
 celebrated stage-foreigner, which would amuse in 
 the closet beyond it's bad spelling. 
 
 Nothing however can be more diverting than 
 the host of meaning with which ]Mii. Wewitzeh 
 strengthens these personal vagariis ; no Prench- 
 jnan can be more lively or more important, no 
 German possessed of more phlegmatic repose, no 
 Jew of a countenance more satislied with his own 
 experience and cunning. But the various expres- 
 sion of their excellencies is as difficult to tlescribc 
 to the reader, as it is easy of comprehension to 
 the spectator, nor is it much less diflicult to criti- 
 cise Mu. Wewitzer comparatively either 
 with others or with himself: there is no actor ou 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. WEWITZER. llf 
 
 the stage who approaches his foreign accent and 
 manner, and his characters are generally so unfn- 
 teresting in the author and so totally dependant 
 on his acting for their effect, that if he has any 
 fault in this style it is the universal and equal hu- 
 mour which he gives to everything foreign. I would 
 instance however among a hundred others the 
 character of the sycophant valet Canton in the 
 Clandestine Marriage, as a specimen not only of 
 his general manner but of his felicity in conferring 
 an interest and effect on characters which in the 
 closet are totally uninteresting and inefficient. 
 
 Mr. Wewitzer however with all his humour 
 does not stand in the higher rank of comedians, 
 for he can imitate little else but habits, and even 
 those must be foreign. He cannot represent any 
 thing English with the least effect, and his fancy 
 has resided so long among foreigners, that, like a 
 traveller infatuated with the continent, he cannot 
 help now and then using a foreign tone and man- 
 ner when they are every way inapprnpriale. It is 
 the worst of a comedian's profession, that those 
 ridiculous habits which it is his peculiar talent to 
 represent sometimes attach themselves, like a 
 spaniel, to the person who handles them most 
 roughly. This and the habit of quoting plays 
 are the diseases of the stage, and they rise as na- 
 turally from the profession as the palsy irum 
 mines, and asthma from glass-houses and forges. 
 I 3 
 
118 THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. JOHSSTOM. 
 
 MU. JOHNSTONE. 
 
 An Englishman laughs al the Irish as much as 
 he docs at thi' French, though his mcrrimintat the 
 former is more social and good humoured : the 
 Frenchman becomes ridiculous to him for his 
 frivolity, which inspires him with contempt, the 
 Irishman for his blundering simplicity, which 
 touches him with a degree of pity in the midst of 
 his laughter. But it is enough in fact that an 
 Irishman has a different sort of pronunciation and 
 manner from his own, and the English stage must 
 exhibit a set of Hibernian characters for his 
 amusement. An actor, who is at once a native 
 of Ireland and not ovcrwceningly proud of his 
 country's pure dialect or logical reasoning, is 
 herefore in great request, and Mu. Johnstone 
 as become an invaluable assistant to our modern 
 farce-writers. The i-lays of Messrs. Colman 
 and Cherry (concordia discors!) overflow with 
 ihe incontinent loyalty and blunders of Irishmen; 
 
THEATRICAL CRTTICISM. — MR. JOHNSTONE. 119 
 
 and though the English mob have heard it's na- 
 tion flattered and it's jest books rei)eatpd a thou- 
 sand times over in the Irish tongue, their vanity, 
 still finds them inconceivably droll and satisfac- 
 tory. 
 
 This nationality and extreme, willingness to be 
 pleased is accordingly very useful to such an 
 actor, who with regard to the humour arising from 
 mere dialect certainly requires no great powers. 
 It is evident that the brogue of Mr. Johnstone 
 has no more genius in it than a Frenchman's 
 broken English ; both speak it because they can- 
 not help it. I mention this truth, because some 
 frequenters of the theatre are apt to confound an 
 actor's national habits with his acquired humour. 
 
 The pleasantry with which I\Ir. Johnstone 
 enlivens this brogue is another thing. His open 
 manner, his simplicity of attitude and gesture, and 
 his variety of emphatic tone, are admirably 
 adapted to tVank Hibernian jollity ; and the air of 
 confidential ]( pose on his audience which he as- 
 sumes during his excellent Irish songs, with his 
 occasional semitonic whining, is peculiarly origi- 
 nal and characteristic. His imitation is confined 
 to no description of Irishmen; he represents the 
 blundering gentleman and the blundering servant 
 with equal truth and humour, and assumes the 
 gay officer, who blunders with elegance, and the 
 
120 THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. JOIINSTOXE. 
 
 rustic, who blunders with vulgarity, with the same 
 case and adaptation of manner. His ucrfoi niance 
 of Sir Callaghan in Lore-a-la-Mode is an excel- 
 lent specimen of the delicacy with which he min- 
 gles the restraint of the gentleman with the honest 
 humour of the soldier, and of his skill in preserv- 
 ing our respect under those defects of dialect and 
 speech which generally give the actor a kind of fa- 
 miliar inferiority to his audience. To this more 
 refined humour he presents an inimitable contrast 
 in the Dennis Bndgriuhkry of John Bull and the 
 Loony 3/' Tzcolter of the Review, characters 
 undoubtedly drawn with the strongest drollery by 
 Mr. Colman, who with all his erroneous conde- 
 scension to the faults of the present stage is able 
 perhaps to produce a more laughable farce than 
 any English humourist on record. Loony M' Tvcol- 
 ier, the haymaker, becomes with Mr. Johk- 
 STONE a consummate picture of an Irish bos- 
 trotter, sturdy, facetious, impudent, quarrelsome, 
 good hearted, and nbove all blessed with a most 
 sluggish complacency in his own powers of action. 
 IJis smile of self-introduction when he comes to 
 Mr. Deputy Bull after a place in his kitchen, his 
 insolent familiarity of which he seems utterly un- 
 conscious, the air of serious secrecy with which he 
 advises the old gentleman not tohire a man who is 
 just announced, and his triumphant couterapt of 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. JOHNSTONE. IJl 
 
 the Deputy and liis new servant when he is <lisinis- 
 scd, almost convulse the audience with a succes- 
 sion of caricature, of which he may fairly share 
 half the praise with the author. 
 
 These national peculiarities, while they hinder 
 his success in any other character, give him that 
 exclusive and prominent situation on the stage, 
 which he maintains by the assistance of an origi- 
 nal humour; and Mr. Johnstone will always 
 preserve a considerable and deserved reputation. 
 But his humour consists almost entirely in the re- 
 presentation of habits, and therefore he by no 
 means rises to the genius of the more mental ac- 
 tors. His range of character also, though it is 
 very wide in his own country, is in fact nothing 
 elsewhere, and his effect therefore is very local, 
 while it is not likely to be half so strong where he 
 is even most understood as where he is not, for 
 what drollery will Irishmen find in their own dia- 
 lect ? An actor, whose business it is to mimic into 
 ridicule the peculiarities of his birth-place, must 
 literally be one of those who have no honour in 
 their own country. 
 
123 TIIEATKICaL CRITICISM MK. liLANCHAIlD. 
 
 MR. BLANCHARD. 
 
 A correct mediocrity lias one ominenf advan- 
 tage ove«' the most extravagant hiiniuur; it enti- 
 tles it's possessor to more jXTsonal respect, and 
 however the general lives ut' the actors may have 
 reduced this respect, or the talents of certain per- 
 formers have rendered it k-ss necessary, it really 
 gains more for an actor than the majority of the 
 stage may perhaps be willing to imagine. It is 
 always pleasing therefore to see an actor who. with 
 considerable powers of buffoonery, can so far res- 
 pect himself and his author as to keep his spirits 
 within just bounds, and be rather proud of cojiy- 
 ing nature than vain enough to remind us eter- 
 nally of himself. For this reason the unassum- 
 ing and uliatVccted nature of ^Ir. Blancuard 
 is always welcome to the judicious, though he 
 may not be received with as nuidi riot from the 
 galleries as Mr. Fawcktt or any other speaking 
 Harleciuin. Let the natural act(^r always recol- 
 lect, that bufluons meet with so much ajiplaube 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MK. BLAKCHARD. 123 
 
 chiefly because it is customary for the mob to be 
 the noiscst in llieir approbation ; if it were the 
 fashion for the boxes to be as unri'straincd and as 
 turbulent, and for the mob to assent merely vvith 
 smiles, nature and wit would always obtain the 
 shout. 
 
 Of Mr. Blan chard however I cannot talk 
 much, for he is not seen much. The performance, 
 ■which has chiefly gained him his popularity, is the 
 character of the Marquis de Grand Chateau in 
 the musical toy-show of the Cublnct, and he cer- 
 tainly presents a very amusing picture of a stiff' 
 dotard with his affectation of energetic dignity 
 and that pompous gallantry which he has so well 
 contrasted with the ludicrous turn out of the toes. 
 This character indeed is so truly original, that 
 even i\Ir. jNIatiiews has been able to add no- 
 thing new to it's representation, and with every 
 allowance for second impressions, he certainly is 
 the less amusing in proportion as he deviates from 
 Mr. Blanch a rd's style. 
 
 INIr. Blanchard has a perpetual catch with 
 his right arm which he generally holds as if he 
 had been accustomed to wear a sling : this trick 
 has not the excuse of being even a common bad 
 habit off the stage, and he should certainly en- 
 deavour to rectify an error which seems the only 
 personal one he has got. But perhaps it is the 
 
124 THEATRICAL CRITICISM. MR. BIANCHARB. 
 
 the more obstinate for that reason. These habits 
 make a stronger impression upon the spectatoi'^s 
 mind than even the spectator himself imagines. 
 I have generally found, that when I sit down to 
 tliink of an actor's style oi' inde( <! when the idea 
 of any actar is presented to my mind, he invaria- 
 bly appears before me with some attitude or ges- 
 ture that marks his accustomed manner, and the 
 analysis of this attitude or gesture instantly dis- 
 closes to me some habitual fault or beauty of his 
 style. Thus if a frequenter of the theati-e were to 
 think suddenly of Mu. Lewis, he would uncon- 
 sciously figure to himself the easy flutter, the 
 short, knowing respiration, and the complacent 
 nods of that lively actor. Contrast him with the 
 idea of Mr. Kemble, and there rises before you 
 a figure of melancholy dignity, dealing out a most 
 measured speech in sepidehral tones and a pe- 
 dantic pronunciation, and injuring what he has. 
 made you feel by the want of feeling himself. 
 
TUEATRICAL CRITICISM. MR. DOWTON. 125 
 
 MR. DOWTON. 
 
 •If we arc to agree with Dr. Joiinsox, that 
 genius is the power of a naturally strong intellect 
 accidentally directed to one particular object, 
 and that it would excel in any attainment which 
 jKCuliarly excited it's attention, it will be diffi- 
 cult to decide, what accident could have directed 
 an univi'rsal genius to so many obji'cts at once, 
 -what concentration ot" casualties could have made 
 Garrick so equally excellent in a hundred dif- 
 ferent characters, or Voltaire so equally de- 
 lightful in a hundred kinds of writings. The 
 most prominent argument however against such a 
 •definition is the wrong judgment which men of 
 genius have so often conceived of their own 
 powers: their attention has been directed to ob- 
 ject after object without the least success, till at 
 length they have suited their powers where they 
 had neither an expectation nor a wish to suit 
 them. This is the perpetual case on the stage. 
 J\iR. Bankister at one period of his earlier 
 
126 TIIEATniCAL CRITICISM. — MR. DOWTO.N. 
 
 days almost confined himsolf to lofty trai^cdy ; 
 both Mr. Kemble and Mrs, Siddons have 
 flattfTcd themselves they were coiTiidians, and in- 
 deed there is hardly a good performer on the stage 
 who has not at some time or other in the same 
 way mistaken inclination for ability. 
 
 I\Ir. Dowton has shared the ( rrors as well as 
 the genius of liis contemporaries. If there is no 
 actor living who can represent the testiness of age 
 and the passionate feeling of impatient honesty 
 with half his filicity, there is at the same time no 
 actor who imitates his inferiors with worse suc- 
 cess. I recollect but one character in low comedy, 
 that of King Arthur in Tom Thinnb, which he 
 sustains with any power; and this character is of 
 a peculiar kind of humour not usual with \ulgar 
 comic actors and not diOicult I should imagine 
 even with professed tragedians; indeed if the 
 great re([uisite in niock-henjic acting is a serious 
 manner opposed to luchcrous words, it will not be 
 found very difficult to any performer. But why 
 Mr. Dowton, who cannot use his jaws like a 
 piece of Indian-rubber, should attempt to grin 
 like MuNBEX, or why with neither an iron voice 
 nor a brazen countenance, he shoulil condescend 
 to copy Mr. Fawcett, is totally inexplicable. 
 In fact his powers will scarcily bend to any ex- 
 pression that is not elicited i)y the stronger cnio- 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISIM. — MR. DOWTON. 127 
 
 tions that approximate to trasjedy and which arc 
 comic in proportion only as they are familiar, or 
 extreme, or unreasonable, or strangly contrasted 
 with their object. He is ihereforc a comedian of 
 very superior powers in his happier characters, 
 since he catches the feelings rather than tlie habits 
 of men, and I really never lamented an actor's 
 want of self-knowledge so much as when I saw 
 so true a genius degrading his abilities and his 
 fame by aping the uncouth levities of Mr. Faw- 
 CETT in the part of Doctor Pa/igloss. His far- 
 cical servants and sailors are not a jot the more 
 natural or more facetious; he always appears 
 above them ; his emotions arc too refined and his 
 faces not even passably monstrous. 
 
 But who is so impressive, so striking, so thrilling, 
 as this actor in scenes of angry perturbation or 
 of anger subdued by the patience or pleasantry of 
 it's object ? His Captain Cape in the Old Maid is 
 a rough miniature of his Sir Anthuny Absolute in 
 the Rivals, and both are imitable portraits of a 
 juind naturally good, indulging itself in bursts of 
 extravagant anger. Most actors are content with 
 straining their eyeballs, protruding their lips, and 
 pounding the air with one arm, to express their 
 rage; in Dowton you see all the approaches, 
 the changes, and the effects of that passion, which 
 becomes impotent by it's very power: most actors 
 
128 TIIEATnU AT. CRITICISM. — MH. DOWTO.,'. 
 
 arc coiucDt to slaic with stupid inaction at their 
 interlociitor, while he is combating or deprecating 
 their rage ; Dow ion still preserves the great fea- 
 ture of rage, impatience, he twists about liislingcrs, 
 changes his attitude and his gesture, mutter* 
 liaslily with his lij)s, turns away at intervals from 
 the speaker with a mouth of contempt, or stems 
 unable to wait for his conclusion. Tiie scene with 
 his son Cdjjfdi/i Absolute in the Rhals, where he 
 insists on the latter's marriage, is for this reason 
 the masterpiece of extravagant anger. But then, 
 when his son has won upon his feelings or suddenly 
 complies with his demand, who at the same time 
 can drop with such a fall of nature from the height 
 of passion to the most soft emotions and the most 
 social pleasantry ? His expression of satisfaction 
 with another, his grateful shake of the hand, and 
 his hurried thanks breaking duough the intervals of 
 overpowering joy, exhibit the perfection of social 
 enjoyment. 
 
 But it is not in simple passions only that Mr. 
 DowTON excels; in the mixed emotions of an- 
 ger an<l tendt mess, and in the te^tiness of good- 
 hearted old age, he has proved himself supeiior 
 not only to the face-making Mundex, but per- 
 haps to any actor in the recollection of the pre- 
 ^ent times. Of this union of opposite feelings his 
 Old Doniton in the lludd to Ruin and his AOcdneao 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM.— iin. DOWTON. if.9 
 
 in the Jew and the Doctor are siifTiciont exam- 
 ples. jNIunden, who really lias a considerable 
 share of feeling, injures his Doniioji as he does 
 all his characters with the most preposterous buf- 
 foonery : he hurts alike his rage and his tender- 
 ness, his violent, his soft, andhis comic expression 
 with this studious farce, because he renders JL 
 evident to the whole house tliat he is not sufficiently 
 occupied with himself to give a good portrait of 
 himself, or rather perhaps, that he is too much 
 occupied with himself to give a good portrr.it of 
 his author's personage. Dowton thinks of 
 nothing but his immediate character, and this is a 
 secret b\' which even indifl'erenl aclors might gain 
 a much better etTect with th.eir audience. An 
 actor in fact thinks of two incompatible things at 
 once when he is representing the autluir's charac- 
 ter and studying his own personal one, as the droll 
 Mr. Mundex or the merry Mr. Fawcktt : 
 a portrait painter in the act of taking another's 
 likeness might as well be so infatuated wilh him- 
 self as to mingle a few dashes of his own : to be 
 sure, people would then say " Here is a curiou* 
 fancy piece enough ! " but what would the intend- 
 ed original say ? 
 
 Dowtom's changes from the irritable lo the 
 yieldintr, from the angry to the tender, in old 
 Donituji, have so much nature, that a spectator 
 
 K 
 
130 THKATRICAt, CRrTTCISM. Mn.DOWlO.X. 
 
 can with difficult' imagine tlu-m to be designed 
 for effect. The gradual faltering of Lis voice, 
 from violence to sioftness, as he is gradually won 
 from testinoss or anger, is like those beautiful 
 semitones whose dropping difference is scarcely 
 perceivable in a fine sinner ; and in the same man- 
 ner, his rise from suUenness to gaiety is almost as 
 imperceptible in it's individual gradation as the 
 hundred different to'ics that melt in ascension on 
 the ear when a vessel is filled at the spring. In 
 Dornton however he always preserves the air 
 of the venerable gentleman, in the Abednego of the 
 Jcxv and the Doctor he shews with what nature he 
 can still preserve these emotions with even an air 
 of vulgarity. The remonstrances of the humane 
 Jew, when he complains that his visitor has hurt 
 his feelings, his air of honest pride gradually giving 
 way to feelings of humiliation, and his powerless 
 voice at length faultrring into tears, are equalled 
 by nothing but the sudden start of consolation and 
 eagerness with which he enquires what the gentle- 
 man ashs for hia gold-headed cane. If his Israel- 
 itish dial'Tl is not so correct as that of Wewit- 
 ZEii,it is nevertheless inferior to Wewitzeu's 
 only, and in every other respect it is the first per- 
 formance of it's kind that I have seen. I must 
 lament indeed that I have not sem either himself 
 or Mr. Bawister in the character of Sheva 
 in Mu. Cumberland's comedy of tiic Jcu, 
 
THF.ATllICAI. CllITXCISM. MR. DOWTON. 131 
 
 since tliis character, I slioukl imagine, must com- 
 prise all tlie excellencies of his acting, his anger, his 
 tenderness, his united anger and tenderness, and 
 his unaffected force of humour, and it would have 
 been curious to compare the two performers in 
 their full rivalry of excellence. But I mention 
 this comedy, which has done Mr. Cumber- 
 land's heart so much honour,-' to notice the 
 
 * The soul of a Jew. as it lias usually been rcpre-onteci on 
 the stage, is a nitre mass of selfish corruption, and in lact, llie 
 Israelitish tribe has been so driveii by tlie prejudices of society 
 into a perpetual \vatchfulness after it's immediate interest, that 
 a Jewish mind is verj' often a mere camera obscura in v hich 
 every surrounding oliject is repvesenled in all it's life, motion, 
 and point of view, while the passing picture is completely 
 hidden from outward observation and the room itself too con- 
 fined to admit much sociality : in short, a Jew must become 
 rich in order not to be utterly contemptible. But this is evi- 
 dently not the fault of the Jew, qitalenus Jew, as a logician 
 •would say, or merely because he is a Jew ; there are at tiiis 
 moment men infinitely attached to the Jewish religion and 
 customs, who have the art of getting rich and yet of preserv- 
 ing that liberality, which the weaker Israelite is afraid even to 
 profess from a fear of the incredulity of his persecution ; his 
 enemies, he thinks, could exclaim with additional alarm 
 against his miserly designs, were he to pretend generosity. Of 
 this weakness and of really-consummate generosity Mr, 
 Cumberland lias composed his Jew, and if he has drawn 
 the picture somewhat too stron;^ly even I'or the most persecu- 
 ted and the most liberal of men, he has done the greater 
 honour to his own amiable feelings, and to his iiberalily u,v an 
 author, au Englishman, and a Christian. 
 K 2 
 
132 iHr.ATnirAi. rRiTicrsM. — mr. dowton. 
 
 very ilosorvcd encomium on ."Mr. Dowton in 
 the author's memoirs of himself published hast 
 year. 'I'hc praise is general, and it comes from 
 a \vrit(T grat( ful for assistance, hut it is interest- 
 ing because it is Mr. CuM nRiiiAXD's, and 
 valuable because it is true. " It has also served," 
 says theaulhor, speaking of the part of 5//fTfl, " as 
 u stepping-stone to the stage for an actor, who in my 
 judgment (and I am not afraid of being sinnular in 
 ihat opinion) stands amongst the highest of his 
 profession: for if quick' conception, true discri- 
 mination, and the happy faculty of incarnating 
 the idea of his poet, are properties essential in the 
 almost undefinable composition of a great and 
 perfect actor, these and many more will be found 
 in Mu. Dowton*." I would not be so great a 
 friend of the bathos, as to say any thing after 
 this. 
 
 * Memoirs of Richakd Cumberland written by him- 
 self. Lai-'ivinjton, 1S06. 4to. p. 514. 
 
THEATRrCAL CRITICISM.~ME. MATHEWS. 13S 
 
 MR.iNIATHEWS. 
 
 Those comedians are infinitely mistaken, who 
 imagine that mere bufFoonery or face-making is a 
 surer method of attaining public favour than 
 chastened and natural humour. A monstrous 
 grin, that defies all description or simile, may 
 raise a more noisy laughter, but as I have before 
 observed, the merest pantomine clown will raise 
 a still noisier: laughter does not always express 
 the most satisfied enjoyment, and there is some- 
 thing in ihi' ease and artlessness of true humour 
 that obtains a more lasting though a more gra- 
 dual apnlausr: it is like a rational lover, who 
 allows confi<h'nce and extravagant mirth to catch 
 a woman's eye first, but wins his way ultimately 
 from the very want of qualities which please 
 merely to fatigue. Whih- such an actor ihorefor'e, 
 as DowTON will att' tnpt butfoonrries in which 
 he neither can nor ought to succeed, it is no .small 
 credit to .Mu. INIathews, that he has the 
 judgment to avoid in general wliat he really can, 
 K 3 
 
I3t THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. MATHOVS. 
 
 r.xhibit with the greater effect. This i? thi- proper 
 pride of an actor who has a greater respect for 
 the opinion of the boxes than of the galleries; 
 this is the laudable ambition that would rather 
 be praised by those who are worthy of respect 
 themselves than by a clamourous mob who in 
 fact applaud their own likeness in the vulgarity 
 and nonsense so boisterously admired. 
 
 Such a judgment is the more praise-worthy in 
 M R. Math ews, as his principal excellence is the 
 representation of officious \alets and humourous 
 old men, two species of character that with most 
 actors are mirely bufibons in livery and buftbons 
 \vith walking-sticks. His attention to correctness 
 however by no means lessens his vivacity, but it 
 is the vivacity of the world not of the stage ; it 
 seems rather his nature than his art, and though 
 1 dare say all actors have their houi-s of discjuiet, 
 and perhaps more than most men, yet he has not 
 the air of one who elevates his sensations the 
 moment he enters the stage and drops them the 
 instant he departs. It is a very common and a 
 very injurious fault with actors to come biforc 
 the audience with a manner expn^sive of begin- 
 ning a task ; they adjust their neckcloths and hats 
 as if they had dressed in a hurry, h)ok about them 
 as much as to say " What sort of a house have I 
 got this evening?" ami commence their speech*. s 
 
THEATUICAL CRITICISM. — Mfi. MATHEWS. 135 
 
 ill a tone of patient weariness, as if they contem- 
 plated the future labours of the evening. 7'hi.s is 
 a frequent error with Mr. H. Johnston, and a 
 mostpeculiar one with I\lH.C.KEMBLF.,whooften 
 seems to have just arri\i'(l from a fatiguing walk. 
 IVIr. Mathews makes his appearance neither 
 Tvith this indifterencc on the one hand, nor on the 
 other with that laboured mirth which seems to 
 have been lashed into action like a top and which 
 goes down like a top at regular intervals. If 
 therefore he does not amaze like many inferior 
 actors with sudden bursts of broad merriment, he 
 is more equable and consistent in his humour 
 and inspires his audience with a more constant 
 spirit of chearfulness. Such a chearfulncss is 
 the most desirable effect in e\ery comic performer, 
 and this feeling is one of the sensations which ren- 
 der us more truly pleased with comedy than with 
 farce: it is more agreeable to reason, because it 
 leaves room for thinking; it is removed from vio- 
 lence, which always carries a degree of pain into 
 the more exquisite pleasures; ii is more like the 
 hapjjiness that we may attain in real life, and 
 therefore more fitted to dispose us to an enjoy- 
 ment of our feelings. 
 
 The principal fault in the general style of Mr. 
 ^Mathews is a redundancy of bodily motion ap- 
 proaching to restl.essncss, which I have sometimes 
 
156 Tur.vTP.iCAr. criticism.— mk. matiiews. 
 
 thought to have been a kind ot" nervousness im- 
 patient ot" public obsorvatii-n ; but I think hi- has 
 repressed this considerably within these few 
 months, and if it be owing to want of confidence, 
 the stage is not a place to increase any of the 
 more bashful feelings. Tliis fault however, like 
 JMr. Kemble's stifinessin Pe/iniddock, becomes 
 a beauty in his performance of the restless Lying 
 Valets and of Risk in Iavc laughs at Locl.smiths, 
 who are both in a pcrj^etual bustle of cheating 
 and contrivance. Pui-sibly it may be the frequen- 
 cy of his performance in charactei-s of intrigue 
 that originally led him to indulge it, for there is 
 yet another charaeti.T, that of the intriguing ser- 
 vant in the farce of Latch him uho Can, in which 
 he is at full liberty to indulge it. In this servant 
 he gives a specimen of that admirable power of 
 mimickry, in which he rivals Mu. Bannisteu. 
 I bt'licve there w( re many in the theatre who had 
 much (iifliculty to auognise him in his transforma- 
 tion into the Frenchman, and for alteration of 
 manner, tone, and pronunciation it certainly was 
 not inferior to the most finislu d deceptions of that 
 great comedian. As this kind of deception indeed 
 depends chiefly upon a disguise of the voice, one 
 would imagine it ouglvt not to be very difficult to 
 an actor, 'Ue of whose first powers should be a 
 flexibility of tone ; but this llexibility becomes 
 
TIIKATRICAI, CRITICISM. — MP. MATItEWS. 107 
 
 valuable on our stage for it's rarity, for it is curi- 
 ous enough to observe, that we liave not a single 
 tragedian or female performer who can at all dis- 
 guise the voice, and of all our comedians, who 
 really ought to excel in this point, INIii. B.w- 
 NiSTEii and Mr. Matiieavs serni the only two 
 who can thus escape from themselves with any 
 artifice : many of the comic actors, as IMun den, 
 Simmons, li-LANCiiARD, Liston, Joux- 
 STONE, Wewitker, and particularly Faw- 
 CETT, seem blessed with such honest throats as 
 to be incapable of the slightest drception. 
 
 The old age of jNIii. Mathews is like the 
 rest of his excellencies, perfectly unatfected and 
 correct ; the appearance of years he manages so 
 well, that many of his admirers, who have never 
 set-n him off the stage, insist that he is an elderly 
 man, and the reason i-f this deception is evident: 
 most of our comedians in their representation of 
 age either make no alteration of their voice, and 
 like antiquarian cheats, jialm a walking-stick or 
 a hat upon us for something very aneii'iit, or sink 
 into so unnatural an imbecility that they are a])t 
 on occasion to f«)rget their totti-riiig knees and bent 
 shouldirs, and like Vertumnus in the poet 
 are young and old in the turn of a minute. Ma- 
 thews never appears to wish to be old; time 
 ■seems to have come to him, not he to time, and us 
 
138 THEATRICAL mniCISM. — MR.MATHKWS. 
 
 he never, where he can avoid it, makes that show 
 of fi'e blent ss which the vanity of a^c always 
 wuuhl avoid, so he never forgets that general ap- 
 pearance of years, which the natural feebleness 
 of a^c could not help. Our old men of the stage 
 arc in general of one unvarying age in all iheir 
 various characters, as in the case of .Munden 
 for instance, who though he imitates the appear- 
 ance of a hearty old gentleman with much nature, 
 is seldom a jot the older or the yoimger th:iii his 
 usual anti(iuity, whatover ihe author might have 
 h'd us to imagine. Tlic two eharacters of Don 
 ]\Ia/ii;c/ in S/ie uoulil and SItv nould nut and of 
 Old P/ii/pct m tin- Cilizm are suificient ixamples 
 of the ease wiih which Ma. Matiikws altrrs 
 his years and of the gerural excillencies of his 
 old age. In the former j)iece he is a naturally 
 chearful old man, whose humour depends much 
 on the humour of others, and who is overcome 
 alternately with gaiety and with despair, as he 
 finds himsi'lf treated by those about him. The 
 voice of Mr. Matht.ws, were we to shut our 
 eyes, would be enough to convince us of his age 
 in this diaracter, and of his disposition too ; there 
 is something in it unaccountably petty and C(nifi- 
 iied, while at the same lime it appears to make an 
 ertbrt of strength and jollity, and when his false 
 pitch of spirits meets with a suddeu downfall, 
 
THEATRICAL CRITrCIS.M. — MR. MATHEWS. 13f 
 
 nothing can be more natural than the total dis- 
 solution of his powers of voice, or the restless 
 despondency with wliich he yields himself to a 
 hundred imaginary miseries : when his spirits are 
 raised again and his excessive joy gradually over- 
 comes itself by it's own violence, the second exer- 
 tion of his fatigued talkativeness and of his ex- 
 cessive laughter reduces him to mere impotence ; 
 he sinks into his chair ; and in the last weariness 
 of a weak mind and body, cannot still refrain from 
 the natural loquacity of old age, but in the inter- 
 vals of oppressed feeling attempts to speak when 
 he has not only nothing to say, but when it is per- 
 fectly painful to him to utter a word. In this cha- 
 racter therefore, Mr. Mathews exhibits all the 
 gradations of the strength and weakness of declin- 
 ing }cars ; in that of Fhilpot, he settles himself 
 into a confirmed and unresisting old age: his 
 feeble attitudes, his voice, his minutest actions, 
 are perfectly monotonous, as become a money- 
 getting dotard, whose soul is absorbed in one 
 mean object : his limbs contracted together are 
 expressive of the selfish closeness of the miser, 
 and in his very tone of utterance, so sparing of it's 
 strength and so inward, he seems to retire into 
 himself. 
 
 From the general performances however of 
 Mu. Mathews, I had been induced to consider 
 
'I'lO THEATRICAL CRITICIPM Mr. MATIirWS, 
 
 him as an actor of habits rather than of passions ; 
 and as the present essay originally stood, I had 
 classed him in a rank nuirh infirior to Ijanxis- 
 TF. R and DowTox. But one of his late per- 
 formances raised his senilis so highly in my 
 rstimation, that I cancelled the original paragraph 
 on jHirpose to do justice to his 5/;- Fretful P/ogi- 
 ari/ in the Critic, to a performance which has 
 proved his knowledge of the human heart, has given 
 it's true spirit toone of the most origmal characters 
 of the first wit of (jur age, and has even persuaded 
 the ancient dramatic connoisseurs to summon up 
 the claps of former times: nay, some of the old 
 gentlemen, in the important intervals of snuff, went 
 so far as to declare that the actor approj^chcd 
 Parsons himself. Wc are generally satisfied, 
 when an actor can express a single feeling with 
 strength of countenance ; but to express two at 
 once, and to give them at the same lime a powerful 
 distinctness, belongs to the perfection of his art. 
 Nothing can be more admirable than the look oi 
 Mr. INI a thews, when the severe criticism is 
 detailed by his inalicious acquaintance. While he 
 affects a pleasantry of countenance, he cannot 
 help betraying his rage in his eyes, in that fea- 
 ture, which always displays our most predomi- 
 nant feelings : if he draws the air to and fro 
 thioiigli his teeth, as if he was perfectly assured of 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM — MR. MATHEWS. 14t 
 
 his own pleasant feelings, he convinces every body 
 by his tremulous and restless limbs that he is ia 
 absolute torture ; if the lower part of his face 
 expands into a painful smile, the upper part con- 
 tracts into a glaring frown which contradicts the 
 ineffectual good humour beneath ; every thing in 
 his face becomes rigid, confused, and uneasy ; it 
 is a mixture of oil and vinegar, in which the acid 
 predominates ; it is anger putting on a mask that 
 is only the more hideous in proportion as it ia 
 more fantastic. The sudden drop of his smil© 
 into a deep and bitter indignation, when he can 
 endure sarcasm no longer, completes this impas- 
 'sioned picture of 5/r Pre(/'«/; but lest his indigna- 
 tion should swell into mere tragedy, Mr. Ma- 
 thews accompanies it with all the touches of 
 familiar vexation : while he is venting his rage 
 in vehement expressions, he accompanies his 
 more emphatic words with a closing thrust of his 
 buttons, which he fastens and unfastens up and 
 down his coat ; and when his obnoxious friend 
 approaches his snuff-box to take a pinch, he claps 
 down the lid and turns violently oft' with a most 
 malicious mockery of grin. These are the per- 
 formances and the characters, which are the true 
 fame of actors and dramatists. If our farcical 
 performers and farcical writers could reach this 
 refined satire, ridicule would vanish before them, 
 like breath from a polished knife. 
 
118 THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MISS POPt. 
 
 MISS POPE. 
 
 The tragic stage is always a step above nature j 
 for iho imitation of tragedy, paradoxical as tlic 
 phrase may seem, must be somewhat imperfect ir^ 
 it's resemblance to real life in order to be pleas- 
 injj, not only because the spectators would lose 
 sight of the emotion, considered in it's imitative 
 powers, from which some critics luive deduced all 
 the pleasure arising from tragedy, but because in 
 proportion as they lost sight of this imitation, they 
 would be awake to a sorrow too apparently real 
 to be softened into a pleasing etVect. Luckily for 
 nature indeed, our actors have little occasion to 
 study this elevation above men and manners : lor 
 the poet has already lifted them suiTiciently, either 
 vith his verse, or his declamation, or some other 
 uncommonness of human language, as well as with 
 the intervals of acts, which allow the spectators 
 leisure to collect their thoughts. The tragic per- 
 former therefore, though he attend carefully to thfi 
 poetry, ought still to imitate nature as closely as 
 
THEATniCAL CRITICISM. — MISS. POPn. 1-13 
 
 possible in ])ass;ip;('S of emotion and passion, if it 
 were merely to correct the artificial effect of t\p 
 poet's writing, which is always sufficient to give*^^ 
 him the necessary elevation, and unless softened, *">. 
 would always be in danger of lifting him too 
 abruptly above the standard of humanity. 
 
 But in comedy sucl) ;ui elevation is totally im- 
 necessary and injurious; firstly, because it excites 
 too little passion to carry our enthusiasm beyond 
 a sense of it's imitation; secondly, because if it 
 did thus transport us, the sensations it would in- 
 spire, would be the reverse of painful and alarm- 
 ing ; and thirdly, because it's chief end is satire, 
 and what is not a just picture of human manners 
 will never be recognized or at least felt as a like- 
 ness cither by those whom it is intended to reprove 
 or those whom it should rouse to a reproof of 
 others. Caricature for this reason is very justly 
 confined by good authors to farce, which profes- 
 ses nothing but to raise merriment, and though 
 some writers of huge f;irces may call their pro- 
 ductions comedy, yet the world invariably recogni- 
 7.'.'S them for what they are, and would as soon 
 look for it's own image in their kind of satire, as 
 a beauty would search tor her likeness at the back 
 of her looking-glass. For the same reason there- 
 fore, the actor should confine his caricature to farce, 
 otherwise he totally destroys that end of the poet 
 
14 1 THEVTRrcAi, rr.ixrri^M. — miss vorr. 
 
 wliicii it is his business to proiiioto. If tlie cliR 
 ractcr too is extremely natural and well-drawn, 
 he contradicts his own sentiments and deeds by 
 farce, and thus the union between an actor and 
 liis cliai-icter b"Comes just as unseasonable and 
 ridicuiou'^, as the assistance of a boisterous felU)w 
 who Li» help hi> friiud from the ground overturns 
 him hy his iuikward oinc>ousness. 
 
 I have been Ic! into these reflectitms by a con- 
 templation of Miss Pope's p;enius, which proves 
 how iniiaitely a comedian can please without the 
 least tincture of grimace or bufFoonery, or the 
 sli<i;htest opposition to nature. She exhibits in- 
 deed such a pt rfect freedom from the cant and 
 trick of the stage, that her education in Mr. 
 Garuick's JMvenilc theatre allows no argument 
 for the friends of such an institution, since her ex- 
 cellencies are evid(.ntly Uie eft'ect of natural 
 genius and not of any system of education. A 
 theatre of this kind can be of no use but to in- 
 struct it's actors in the mere busings of the stage, 
 and .Miss Popk, I believe, is the only good per- 
 former either in England or France that has been 
 thus educated. Such a stage can never supply 
 that observation of life which is one of the first 
 requisites towards the representation of men and 
 manners ; it is evident too that however excel- 
 lently children may perform, considered as chil- 
 
TIIEATRfCAL CRITICISM. — MISS POP!?, 145 
 
 orcn, they can never personate a more advanced 
 age for that very reason, and even if they could 
 contrive to imitate men they would merely disgust 
 us the more because they were no longer children. 
 Of what service then is a juvenile theatre? why, 
 it hurts the health of children by forcing them 
 into bad hours, it hurts their minds by giving them 
 a premature knoO'ledge of seducing vices, it takes 
 away in short that lovely simplicity whose great- 
 est charm is it's inexperience, and without which 
 childhood becomes a mere effort at manhood, 
 contemptible for it's want of power and infinitely 
 pitiable for it's want of modesty. If -\Iiss Pope 
 has escaped all this, it is owing to that excellent 
 sound sense which has taught her to avoid the 
 most common errors of her profession. But what 
 has become of all the other persons educated in 
 this manner? If their early habits are not suffi- 
 cient to make them fit for the stage they will at 
 the same time render them unfit for almost every 
 other profession, and what is to become of those, 
 especially if they are females, whose very passion 
 for bustle has- made them indolent, and for read- 
 ing, unwise ? I do not speak from momentary 
 consideration, for I have eagerly sifted the sub- 
 ject before;* there was an attempt lust year t« 
 
 * See Appendix. 
 
 I. 
 
116 THEATRICAI. CRrTIClSNf. — MISS POI'E. 
 
 establish in tliis niotropolis what was called, an 
 academic theatre ; it's proprietor"^, some of wliom 
 were fathers of the cliildreii, instructed the iiihiiU 
 ])crlormers in the most iniiiiiitous plavs of our de- 
 graded wits, and it will ever be the honest pride 
 <;f my heart that, by the confession of these very- 
 men, it's dissolution was materially owing to the 
 ridicule of tlie News. 
 
 Neither these dangers, nor the earliest as well 
 as greatest ])raise that an actress could receive, 
 have had any etlect on the steady, unassuming, and 
 unatl'ected genius of Miss 1*ope, of whom 
 riii'HCiiiLL, in the ancient character of poet and 
 prophet united, and in the midst of the most galling 
 satire upon others, spoke hi'^ pert'ect approbation. 
 
 With all tlic native vigour of sistccii, 
 Among the merry group cotifpiciious seen, 
 Sec lively Pope ativanec iojig and trip, 
 Corinna, Clierry, Honeycomb, and Snip. 
 Not without ail, but yet to nature true, 
 She charms the town \s ith liumour just, yet new. 
 Chear'd In her promise, \\c the less deplore 
 The I'atal time when Clive shall be no more. 
 
 RoSCIAD. 
 
 This anticipation of Miss Pope's resem- 
 blance to Mns. Clive, who eNcellod in hoydens 
 and romps as well as intriguing chambermaids. 
 
TTlEATRirAl- CRITICISM. — MISS TOPE. 147 
 
 •does not soem to have been perfectly justified in 
 {he former character; but in the hitter we our- 
 selves can witness to that lively nature which 
 seems determined to survive her very powers, and 
 the picture of INIrs. Ct-ivF.'s genius, if not of 
 her characters, might still be drawn for Miss 
 Pote: 
 
 In spite of outward blemishes she shone 
 
 For humour fam'd and humour ail her own. 
 
 Easy, as if at home, the stage she trod, 
 
 Nor sought the critic's praise nor fear'd his rod. 
 
 Original in spirit and in ease 
 
 She pleas'd by hiding all attempts to please. 
 
 It has not been ni)- fortune to see Miss Pope 
 in her former days and characters, but if her 
 humour is still so powerful, when her powers of 
 voice and of action have become so weak, it is easy 
 lo imagine her former excellence. Her genius 
 however is of a very lasting nature for it does not 
 depend upon bodily exertion. The stage, as 
 Churchill says with respect to Mrs. Clive, 
 appears to be her own room : she never indulges 
 in that excess of action which is intended to sup- 
 ply tlie want of active coimtenance, and wiiich 
 would be so astounding to Englishmen in real lite ; 
 she never talks to the audience, she does not exlii- 
 bit air she can when her character will not warrant 
 L 2 
 
llo THZATRICAL CRITinSM. — MISS POPE. 
 
 tlie display, and with tlic same judgment she nevw 
 aticcts what she cannot do. One of her great 
 beauties is a most judicious emphasis of speech 
 that unites the qualities of reading and of talking 4 
 fur it has all the strength of tlie one tempered by 
 the familial it V of the other. Mir ifeiu ral style 
 of acting indeed may be termed emphatic, not 
 because like Mrs. DAVExronx, who is a very 
 sensible actress in other respects, she digs, as it 
 were, into particular words with her voice and her 
 action, but because she relieves with much art 
 the uniform temperance of her manner by that 
 variety of tone which appears the natural result 
 of a person's obedience to feelings without any 
 attiinpt cither to repress or to elevate them. 
 This is peculiarly observable in her performance 
 of Mrs. Candour in the School for Scandal, in 
 which her affected sentiments are so inimitably 
 hidden by the natural turns of her voice, tliat 
 it is no wonder her scandal carries perfect 
 conviction to every body around her. Her 
 humour is perfectly adapted to this affectation of 
 truth, for it is of that dry sort wh'ch a person 
 of little judgment might mistake for seriousness, 
 and it is so perfectly ec|ualize'd with her immediate 
 feelings, that in scenes of cool contemptuous <.\c~ 
 fiance or of ariger aflecting coolne'ss, as in tlie 
 character of Lady Cuurtlaud in the School for 
 
THEATRirAI, CRITICISM. — MISS POPE. 140 
 
 Friends, she never passes those limits at which the 
 actor's adherence to his author ends, and his mere 
 wish to please tlie audience commences. 
 
 [n parts of more farce, like that of stupid Au- 
 drey in As You Like It, I\Iiss Pope must yield, 
 I think, to Mrs. Mattocks, but in true comic 
 humour and in temperate unafl'ccted nature she 
 yields to no actress on the stage, and it is a very 
 considerable praise to her judgment and her gene- 
 ral manners that in the present rare gentility of 
 the stage she is the only natural performer of the 
 old gentlewoman. With features neither natural- 
 ly good nor flexible, she manages a surprising 
 \ariety of expression, and with a voice originally 
 harsh and now enfeebled by age, her variety of 
 tone is still more surprising. None of her defi- 
 ciencies in short are acquired, and she contrives 
 that they shall injure none of her excellencies. 
 With perpetual applause to flatter her and a long 
 favouritism to secure her, she has no bad habits ; 
 and when even the best of our actors are consi- 
 dered, it is astonishing how much praise is con- 
 tained in that single tiulh. 
 
 L 3 
 
150 THEATC1CAL CRITICISM. — MKS. MATTOCKS. 
 
 MRS. MATTOCKS. 
 
 Great comic powrrs may easily be rccopiizcd^ 
 thougli their jiossessor should somerimcs degene- 
 rate into farce : nature and the true genius ot' 
 acting are so amalgamated, that as long as a par- 
 ticle of the latter remains it will be found to contain 
 something of the former. Such a genius injured 
 by farce is like gold in the hands of the beater : 
 however gaudy and glaring it's effect may become, 
 it is still brilliant : however it's mas^ivenessmay be 
 attenuated into a mere superficies, it is still the 
 remnant of a noble metal. 
 
 The powers of Mu. Mukdex for instance, 
 however lie may fritter them into worthlessness, 
 are orrginally of sterling value. Mrs. Mat- 
 tocks, though she is apt to become flippant and 
 farcical, has not so widely mistaken breadth fur 
 solidity, and therefore her genius for true comedy 
 is more discoverable. 
 
THEATRICAL CraTICrSM.— iMRS. MATTOCKS. 151 
 
 The comic powers of Mrs. M a.ttocks indeed 
 are originally not unlike those of iSliss Pope ; 
 yet the difference between the two actresses is 
 most forcibly apparent. Th« fact is, that Mrs. 
 Mattocks is more theatrical, and Miss Pope, 
 who affects nothing, more natural. Many of their 
 audience may consider the one actress quite as easy 
 and natural as the other, because she is as free 
 from lameness, because she never halts in her 
 style or makes an apparent effort to produce 
 effect; but a discriminating eye will instantly 
 separate the easiness which trusts to Nature, and 
 that which is produced by a confidence in theatri- 
 cal art. In the one case the perfi-rmer seems to 
 do nothini^ but obey his inspiration ; in tiie otiicr 
 he bends it to his conceit or his habitual peculiari- 
 ties: however vehement or etl'ective therefore this 
 power may :ippeai-, it really possesses less of en- 
 thusiasm than a pure obedience to nature, because 
 the mind is evidently less occupied with what it 
 can bend to it's own habits than with a sensation 
 that entirely absorbs and governs it. 
 
 *I cannot illustrate this diff(-rence better than by 
 a comparison (;f our two comic painters, Smikke 
 and WiLKiE, both of whom excel in a knowledge 
 of the human mind and a powertul commarui of 
 humourous expression. Though you ri'cogujze in 
 Smirke's characters every habit and einoiionho 
 
152 THEATRICAL CRITICISM.— MRS. MATTOCKS. 
 
 personifies, the acquaintance is not commenced 
 entirely by yourself; they force themselves oi> 
 your notice by that kind of double liuinour, which 
 anticipates observation while it seems busied with 
 its own concerns : Wilkie's characters ask 
 nothing and they gain every thing, they have none 
 of that looking out of a picture, whicli Mn. 
 Smirke, hovvever he may have corrected it by 
 avoiding the gross staring of the Dutch figures has 
 still maintained by attitudes and grimaces almost 
 equally compulsive of observation : the charac- 
 ters of Smiuke in their most domestic retirement 
 always appear to have a consciousness and a wish 
 of being overlooked ; those of Wilkie preserve all 
 that air of abstraction and employment, which 
 persons occupied with their own affairs and sur- 
 rounded by the walls of a room would naturally 
 maintain. The little therefore which Smirke 
 gains by their obtrusiveness of pencil, he loses by 
 the confusion necessarily produced in characters 
 Avhich contradict their own actions and business ; 
 but Wilkie obtains our {Approbation or what may 
 be called the artificial end of the painter by con- 
 fining the action of his characters to tlieir natural 
 one, and by neglecting the spectator adds to the 
 strength and unity of the spectacle: the one 
 meets and solicits our eye for applause; the other 
 waits for it without uflectation and gains it wiih- 
 
THKATRICAL CRITICISM. — MRS. MATTOCKS. 155 
 
 out effort: Smirke in short is the theatrical 
 painter ; he studies not so much to observe as 
 to be observed : Wilkie is the painter of na- 
 ture, he d^aws from mankind, rather than foi' 
 tiiem. Luclvily for true and well-directed genius> 
 the world in it's admiration of genius is like a 
 delicate lover, and both for the sake of it's own^ 
 reputation as well as activity, would rather pursue 
 than be pursued, would rather detect the correct, 
 the rational, the unobtrusive, than be deceived 
 into a momentary vehemence of amazement by the 
 glaring and the forward. Nothing can be a 
 better instance of this dcliciicy in the true 
 connoisseur, than the unchanging and unequalled 
 honours of the divine Raphael, whose beauties 
 win upon our judgment and our feelings the more 
 they are contemplated, but produce less perhaps of 
 sudden effect than any great painter on record. 
 
 Such is the comparative excellence of the ac- 
 tor, and as jNIr. Smirke, had he obtained an 
 earlier and a better judgment, possesses sufficient 
 powers perhaps to have equalled his present 
 superiors, so might a more genuine comedy have 
 been attained by Mrs. Mattocks or by any 
 performer whose real genius has been distorted by 
 the injudicious fondling of admirers. Mrs. Mat- 
 tocks has too much judgment ever to degenerate 
 into mere caricature, except when it is her author'* 
 
154 TIir.ATKICAL CRITICISM. — MHS. MATTOCKS. 
 
 fault, as ill the part ot Miss Clementina Alisjnee 
 in Mr. Morion's Way to get Married; licr 
 chief fault is in the obtrusive force which she 
 gives to all her characters, and in an extension of 
 oriiiinilly well proportioned expression to a 
 breadth beyond it's basis : in this respect she 
 ruserables Munuen. In her performance, for in- 
 stance, of the intriguing Bctfif Hint in the Man 
 of the World, she personifies with the happiest 
 etf-'ct the breathless anxiety and hushed communi- 
 cations of the mischief-maker; her expressive 
 «;iarc at the beginning of her speeches, prophetic 
 of lier interlocutor's amazement, ber very prepara- 
 tory swallow (excuse me this vulgarism) as if she 
 were unable to conimeneehcrdireful tales, and the 
 pretended gaiety of hurry with which she slurs 
 over her real want o) information as though it were 
 a confirmed knowledge of tacts, form a picture of 
 great variety and trulh: but she is not satisfied 
 with all this, broad as it is in it's correctness ; she 
 must obtain the- same noisy laughter which- Mr. 
 Fav.'cett and Mr. Mundf-.v command, and 
 like the Japanese idolaters, make a sacrifice of 
 her reason to a set of grins and grimaces: every 
 expression is pushed beyond it's end, her vivacity 
 screams, her stare becomes tragic, r.nd her hurry 
 maddens into mere gabblin-j. 'lluis, like the 
 actors she condescends to imitate, she fixes hei:sei£ 
 
TnrATKlCAL CKITICISM. — MRS. MATTOCKS. 155- 
 
 ill fvcry p<'tty habit immediately applicable or 
 iK>t, which slie finds applauded; as Mr. IMun- 
 DHN has his twist of the jaws at the conclusion of 
 his sentences, and TnIr. Fawcett his gratinji; 
 hem, so ?.Ius. Mattocks must indulge herself 
 in a kind of satisfactory giggling, wliich she some- 
 times with artificial conciseness terminates b}' a 
 sudden gravity that certainly forms a \ery ludi- 
 crous though a very farcical contrast. 
 
 I have been the more siu'prised at this defalca- 
 tion of Mrs. Mattocks from true eomedy, be- 
 cause no actress seems to understanil her author 
 better; so that her farce cannot be the juggling of 
 igaorance t(^ avoid scrutiny. In the character of 
 the housekeeper in the Tale of Mystery, she prov- 
 ed herself capable of a seriousness and a feeling, 
 ])articularly in her depressed and shrinking rela- 
 tion of the murder, which no performer of mere 
 farce could attempt to reach. 
 
 It must be confessed that Mrs. Mattocks 
 has all the powers of an excellent comic actress, 
 and age does not seem to have impaired them 
 cither bodily or mentally; her eye is still full of 
 liveliness, lur face and her voice of variety, and in 
 a much better sense than it was remarked of 
 another, she ma}- be said lo have "■ a head to ccn~- 
 ■tciveand a hand to execute any miscliief." 
 
T56 THEATKICAL CRITICI5>M, MISS MELI.OK. 
 
 MISS MELLON. 
 
 The dearth of gontcol females has long been a 
 subject of complaint against the English stage, 
 and it certainly appears surprising in a nation so 
 celebrated for thai delicate mixture of reserve and 
 frankness which constitutes the charm of female 
 manners. But if the cause of this dearth be con- 
 sidered, perhaps we shall be more surprised to 
 recollect so many actresses who have attained these 
 manners on the stage, since it arises for the most 
 part from their very profession. It is evident 
 that a female must entirely get rid of the natural 
 timidity of her sex before she can appear in all 
 her powers before a miscellaneous and expectant 
 multitude, and though this natural timidity may 
 in some measure be supplied in real life by that 
 outward reserve with which a woman might 
 artfully conceal a masculine mind, yet there is 
 a something beyond i^ropriety of demeanor, be- 
 yond even personal dignity, which must separate 
 feminuie from masculine gentility. 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. MISS MELLON. 15?" 
 
 By that necessary union then of delicacy, of 
 frankness, and of reserve, which renders the social 
 female so lovely, an actress who aspires to the 
 lady, must be judged; and Miss jNIellon, I 
 Jim afraid, possesses nothing but the frankness ; 
 she has sufficient easiness for mere fasliion, but 
 sucli an easiness is the result of confidence not of 
 a happy propriety of temper and education; she 
 has a fund of vivacity, but whether she is exer- 
 cising her skill in raillery or not, her sprightliness 
 has always a vulgar shortness of-speech and man- 
 ner, a something almost amounting to snappish- 
 iicss, which lessens her amiableness in proportion 
 as it increases her humour. This fault is very 
 observable in her representation of Volarite in the 
 Honey Moon, a character nevertheless of rather 
 a confident levity, and from it's plain-spoken 
 manner very well adapted to Miss JNIellom's 
 style ; but what might be a beauty in this per- 
 formance, if confined to it's immediate seasons for 
 exertion, becomes a glaring error from it's obstina- 
 cy and misapplication. It cannot be denied, and 
 indeed it is extremely natural, that the freedom of 
 intercourse between the actor and actress, though 
 it may be perfectly void of criminality, must 
 nevertheless do away those nice distinctions io 
 behaviour between the sexes, which are necessary 
 to their distinguisbracnt by others, and perhaps i^ 
 
558 THEATRICAL CRITICISM. MISS, MCI.tON. 
 
 ■will be foiiiul that tlii> first cause of a rcinale's ill 
 success in till representation of perfect nentilify 
 is the want of that sixual consciousness, if I may 
 vise the expression, which does not so much liiink 
 of itself as it feels a retiring sensation at the levity 
 or the officiousncss of men. 
 
 The happy peculiarity which distinguishes 
 ]Miss IMkllon frc;m the multitude of the London 
 performers, is her case and artifice in the cham- 
 bermaid or llie unpolished girl. The shortness of 
 her manner suits admirably well with thepertness 
 and decision of the one, and her vivacious frank- 
 ness with the universal carelessness of the other. 
 Nor is it in (lie more prominent qualities only of 
 " abij^ails that she excels; she catches with the, 
 nicest discrimination their probable touches of 
 characier and nuuuii'r as they might be excited 
 vpon unusual occasions, and after the fac-simile of 
 De \\'ili)E I need not attempt to paint her rest- 
 less bashfulness as Liicij in the School for Friends, 
 when she is courted b^Mhe Quaker: if ]Ma- 
 TiiEws makes his advances to her sympathy by a 
 smiling complacency that gradually outshines his 
 solemnity, if he woos her hand into his own and 
 by a daring mananivre raises it and cherishes it to 
 his bosom, nothing can be more htimourousiy 
 replied than the momentary glances of acknow- 
 icilgment which she lifts to his momentary con- 
 
Tiir.ATRiCAi. cnITIrIs^^• — miss iitllox. 133 
 
 t<?mplati()n of licr charms, or the uncon!^cio^ls air 
 and op))n'ss( d feelings witli which she bites the 
 corner ol hei apron. For easiness and Ireedoni 
 of manner I would insrance her performance of the 
 heroine in the Apprentice, especially in the scene 
 wheie she remonstrates from the balcony against 
 the tragic proceedings of her lover; the tone of 
 her voice is very naturally divided between en- 
 dearment and indifi'ercnce, and by the security of 
 her lounge as she hangs over the rails, and the 
 leisure of her conversation, she completely avoids 
 the air of a performer before an audience. 
 
 But when I mention easiness of manner, I must 
 not forget the perfect nature of a 3"oung actress 
 named Grant, who appeared some little time 
 since at the Haymarket Theatre : her characters 
 were chiefly in the lower classes of housewives, 
 and for a most happy domestic easiness in such 
 characters I think her unequalled by any of our 
 London performers. All her actions and words 
 appeared the result of immediate feeling, so that 
 she was totally free from that kind of anticipa- 
 tion by which an ordinary performer, anxious to 
 get through his part, is induced to prepare his 
 looks and his attitudes for what is to cc-ine. I 
 have as little personal knowledge of Miss 
 Grant as of every other actress; I thought 
 this notice due to a rising performer who has a 
 
160 THtJlTElCAL CEITICISM. — MISS MELLON. 
 
 claim upon my gratitude for the pleasure she hai 
 afforded me, and upon the managf rs of our the- 
 atres for the pleasure she would afford othcis. 
 
THEATRICAL CRITrCr^M. — MUS. iORDAW. 161 
 
 MRS. JORDAN. 
 
 1 HAVE placed this charming actress under the 
 iiead of comedy, notwithstanding her occasional 
 performance in tragedy and her peculiar excellence 
 in the artless miseries of Ophelia. The declama- 
 tory parts, which she sometimes sustains in senti- 
 mental plays, require, as I have before observed, 
 very little genius on account of their vt rbal mo- 
 notony ; and though considerable feeling is min- 
 gled with every thing Mrs. Jordan does, yet 
 she increases this very monotony by a plaintive 
 undulation of voice, an alternate rise and fall of 
 emphasis, that seems conscious of htr want of 
 tragic powers and is labouring to impress upon us 
 something very fine, like a person spouting forth a 
 laborious quotation : she appears indeed on these 
 occasions to be reading her part, and proceeds 
 from line to line with a singing solemnity, like a 
 parcel of milliners, during their work, taking their 
 turp to read Romeo and Juliet or the Victim of 
 
 M 
 
1<52 THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MRS. JORDAN, 
 
 Sensibi/iti/. As to her excellent performance of 
 Ophelia, a great distinction must be made between 
 characters originally and essentially tragic, and 
 those which become so by some external means 
 that do not change their disposition ; between 
 cliaracters in short which arc tragic on account 
 of what they have done or f( It, and those which 
 become so by what is done to them : in the for- 
 mer case a general sf)k'mniiy and sorrow is neces- 
 sary in the performer, in the latter the character 
 may still preserve it's sprightliness in it's utmost 
 tragedy as Ophelia does in her madness, so that 
 the tragic effect of such a character does not con- 
 sist in the performer's powers of tragedy but in the 
 contrast which it's misfortunes mal<c with it's be- 
 haviour: the darkness is rather in it's atmosphere 
 than in itself. Nothing can be more natural or 
 pathetic than the complacent tones and busy 
 goodnature of ]Mrs. Jordan in the derange- 
 ment of Ophelia ; her little bewildered songs in 
 particular, like all her songs indeed, pierce to our 
 feelings with a most original simplicity ; but as all 
 her actions and speeches are lively and airy, 
 though unseasonably so, she is nothing but the 
 comic actress who has become tragic for the 
 reasons above mentioned. 
 
 The immediate felicity of ISIrs. Jordan's 
 style consists perhaps in that great excellence of 
 
THEATRICAL CHITICISM. — MR3. JORDAW. 165 
 
 Mr. Bannister, which I have called hearti- 
 ness; but as the manner of this feeling is natu- 
 rally softened in a female, it becomes a charming 
 openness mingled with the most artless vivacity. 
 In characters that require this expression, Mrs. 
 Jordan seems to speak with all her soul ; her 
 voice, pregnant with melody, delights the ear 
 with a peculiar and exquisite fulness and with an 
 emphasis that appears the result of perfect convic- 
 tion ; yet this conviction is the effect of a sensibility 
 willing to be convinced rather than of a judgment 
 xveighing it's reasons ; her heart alwaj's precedes 
 her speech, which follows with the readiest and 
 happiest acquiescence. 
 
 This subjection of the manner to the feelings 
 Jias rendered JNIrs. Jordan in her younger days 
 the most natural actress of childhood, of it's bursts 
 of disposition, and it's titful happiness; and as her 
 fancy has not diminished, and her knowledge of 
 human nature must have increased, v.ith her years, 
 it would render her the most natural actress still, 
 \vere it not for the increase of her person. To be 
 ^ery fat and to look forty years old is certainly 
 not the happiest combination for a girlish appear- 
 ance, and ISIrs. Jordan, with much good sense, 
 seems to have almost laid aside her Romps and her 
 Little Pickles for younger performers. So delight- 
 ful however are the feelings and tones of nature, 
 M 2 
 
Ifit TnrATrvifAL cniTicisM. — mr3. /orda?.'. 
 
 that tlicrt.' is still no actress who pleases so much 
 in the performance of frank and lively youth, in 
 Siiakspeare's Rosalind for instance, and the 
 broad sensibilities of the Conntri/ Girl. With 
 this frankness too she unites a power of raillery, 
 seldom fou!i<l in a performer of her honest cast. 
 Mrs. Jo:. dan manas'sthis raillery with inimi- 
 table delicacy; yet it dues not carr\ with it an 
 air of contempt, though such an air is one of 
 the severest weapons of the ironical humourist ; 
 it is not delivered with an indift'erent air, though 
 such an appearance gives irony one of it's most 
 excellent n liefs; nor does it assume an air of gay 
 acquiescence in the proceedings of it's object, 
 thouj,h the object may thus become doubly ridi- 
 culous in it's misconception and unconscious 
 furtherance of the ridicule. These three kinds 
 of ridicule, considered Avith regard to the 
 speaker, form a contrast with his manner onl\-, 
 since we can always discover his real meaning 
 and mi.id, and are not surjMiscd at either; but 
 raillery becomes much more effective in the mouth 
 of frankness and simplicity from the contrast it 
 presents with the usual goodnature of the speaker, 
 and from the peculiar obnoxiousncss of that 
 object which can rouse so unexpected and unusu- 
 al a reprover. Mrs. .Tordax utters her more 
 serious ridicule with, tlic same simplicity and 
 
TiTEATRrCAL CRITICISM. — MRS. JORDAN. 1G5 
 
 strength of feeling that always pervatli' her seri- 
 ousness when it does not amount to the tragic, 
 and she gives it a very peculiar energ}' by pro- 
 nouncing the latter parts of her sentences in a 
 louder, a deeper, rnd more hurried tone, us if 
 her goodnature should not be betrayed into too 
 great'a softness and yet as if it wished to get rid 
 of feelings too harsh for her disposition. Her 
 lighter raillery still carries with it the same feel- 
 ing, and her laughter is the happiest and most 
 natural on the stage ; if she is to laugh in the 
 middle of a speech, it does not separate itself so 
 abruptly from her words as with most of our per- 
 formers; she docs not force herself into those 
 yawning and side -aching peals, which are laboured 
 on every trifling occasion, when the acior seems 
 to be afTccling joy with a tooth-ach iipon him or 
 to have worked hirahcif into convulsions like a 
 Pythian priestess ; her laughter intermingles 
 itself with her words, as fresh ideas aflbrd )• -r 
 fresh mcrriiueiit ; she d jc-s not so much indulge 
 as she seems miable to help it ; it increabes, it 
 lessens with her fancy, and when you expect it no 
 longer according to the usual habit of the stage, 
 it sparkles forth at little intervals, as recollection 
 revives it, like flame from half smothered embers. 
 This is the Ir.iightcr of the Teelings ; and it is this 
 predominaiijce of the heart in all bhc says and docs 
 
166 THEATRICAL CHITICISM. — MRS JORDAN.' 
 
 thai renders her the most delightful actress in ther 
 Donna Violunte of the Wondtr and the Clara of 
 Matrimony, and in twenty other characters, which; 
 ought to be more ladylike than she can make theni, 
 and which acquire a better gentility with others. 
 
 AVhy Mrs. Jordan should be so deficient in 
 the lady will however be no matter of surprise to 
 those who reflect, in the first place, on the level- 
 ling familiarities of her profession,* and, in the 
 second, on the broad and romping characters in 
 which she has hitherto excelled ajid to which the 
 manners of any actress, perpetually employed in 
 those chiiracters, must in some degree unavoid- 
 ably be bent. Mus. Jordan has unfortunately 
 been the finest breccfics-Jigure, as the newspapers 
 gloatingly call it, upon the British stage ; her leg 
 is reported to have been copied into a model for 
 the statuary, and her foot has rivalled the sublime 
 toes of that modest dancer Vestuis, who diflfer- 
 ed with the all-conquering Achilves merely as it 
 was the mortaliryof the warriorand the immortality 
 of the dancer that lay in their respective heels, and 
 who one day cried out to his son, " Here, boy, 
 kiss this foot, which enchants heaven and earth I" 
 This male altiren)eiit of actresses is one of the 
 most barbarous, injurious and unnatural cui>Loms 
 
 * Sec page 156. 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MRS. JORDAN, 107' 
 
 «f the stage ; it has proceeded sometimes from 
 want of invention in the author, sometimes from 
 a spirit of pruriency, or, if they please, of versati- 
 lity in the actresses ; for when actors rule authors, 
 as they do in our time, good performers may very 
 often obtain what parts they please. In all cases 
 it is injurious to the probability of the author and 
 to the proper style of the actress, for if she suc- 
 ceeds in her study of male representation she will 
 never entirely get rid of her manhood with it's 
 attire; she is like the Tphis of Ovid and 
 changes her sex unalterably. There is re- 
 quired, in fact, a breadth of manners and de- 
 meanour in a woman's imitation uf men, which no 
 female, who had not got over a certain feminine 
 reserve of limb, could ever maintain or endure; 
 and when the imitation becomes frequent and the 
 limbs bent to their purpose, it is impossible to 
 return to that delicacy of behaviour, whicli exists 
 merely as it is incapable of forgetting itself. Vi- 
 vacity does nothing but strengtiien the tendency 
 to broadness by allowing a greater freedom of 
 action ; it merely helps the female to depart more 
 from her former chaste coldness of character, 
 from the simplicity of her former mental shape; 
 it is like attempting to straiten a curled lock by 
 holding it nearer the fire. I cannot but persuade 
 jnyself . therefyrc, thai Mus. Jordan's inabiiitjr 
 
1C8 THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MRS. JORDAV. 
 
 to catch the eli-gant delicacy of the lady arises 
 from her perpetual representation of the other sex 
 and of tlie romping, unsettled, and uneducated 
 part of tier own. It has been the fashion to com- 
 pare .Miss Duncan in the character of a lady 
 with Mrs. Jordan ; but let them be compar- 
 ed with references to their age and situation.. 
 The deficiency of Mrs. Jordan arises from bad 
 or inappropriate haJMts of acting: had she never 
 Tcprescntf d rakes and romps, it is most probable- 
 she would have been at least as genteel as Miss 
 Duncan, for in point of real genius and comic 
 powers she is as much her superior as she has 
 been in person and still is in voice. ^Iis<» Dun- 
 can has undoubtedly the advantage in gentilityv 
 and her youth and figure will assist that advan- 
 tage : but let her take care of her superiority ; 
 she has lately been very fond of wearing the 
 breeches, and she wears them, as Sallust's 
 female danced, much butter than becomes her. 
 
 Mrs. Jordan, a'^ a performer who unites 
 greatcomic powers with muchserious feeling, and 
 who in all her moods seems to be entirely subser- 
 vient to her heart, is not only the first actress of 
 the day, but as it appears to me from the descrip- 
 tion we have of former actresses, the first that has 
 adorned our stage. But if it may be sufiered me 
 to shadow with a little gloomy philosophy tb« 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM, — MRS. JORDAIC. 169' 
 
 gaiety of theatric criticism, if it may be suffered 
 me to fancy myself at some silent distance from 
 the brilliant stage, undisturbed by it's noise and 
 undazzled by it's lustre, how distressing is it 
 to our benevolence, how humiliating to our 
 powers of pleasing, and to our capacity of receiv- 
 ing pleasure, that the very tastes and abilities, 
 that produce one of our most rational delights, 
 should corru[ot the source of that delight; that 
 the stage should at once be the improver of our 
 manner and the debaser of it's own; that the 
 most sensitive, the most amiable part of the 
 creation can scarcely ever venture upon the 
 public imitation of even the most estimable pait 
 of their sex, without losing something of what 
 renders themselves estimable !. 
 
170 THEATniCAI, CRITICISM UISSDrNCAX. 
 
 MISS DUNCAN. 
 
 Tut. same reason that inJuced me to rank 
 Mrs. Jordan as a comedian only, has confined 
 Miss Duncan to the same chtss, though she 
 also performs with success in tragedy. I have 
 already described the distinction between charac- 
 ters in themselves tragic and those which are 
 rather externally so, or between those which com- 
 mand our j)ity by a general and strong melan- 
 choly of fueling, and those which excite it by a 
 sudden alteration of fortune or by any unforeseen 
 and melancholy chance that affects their circum- 
 stance and situation ratlur than their disposi- 
 tion.* Miss Duncan has not so much feiling 
 as Mrs. Jordan , who indeed is feeling itself 
 personified, but she can exliibit much sensibility 
 in scenes of apprehension and danger, and she 
 displays both sensibility' and judgment in the 
 character of florciice in the Curfeu\ when she is 
 kitting in the robbers' cave disguised as a captive^ 
 * Sec pasc 102. 
 
TIIEATRTCAL CRITICISM. — MISS DUNCAN. 171 
 
 T)oy : her attitude, when she listens at snatched- 
 intervals to the conference of the banditti, is per- 
 haps of too eager and betraying a nature, but her 
 downcast, harmless,, and innocent repose of de- 
 meanour, when she finds herself observed, is just 
 and happy, and her petitions to the robber who 
 is commissioned to destroy her are full of agita- 
 tion, at once despairing with all a girl's apprehen- 
 sion, and yet clinging to hope from the very sensa- 
 tion of fear. Her declamation is not so bad as^ 
 Mrs. JaiiDAN's, for it is not so like a sing- 
 ing reader's ; but it mistakes vehemence for digni- 
 ty, and therefore is apt to degenerate into what 
 is vulgarly but emphatically called mouthing. 
 
 The ability, which chicHy diainguishes Mis* 
 Duncan from other actresses, is in her represen- 
 tation of the fashionable lady, and in this she is 
 certainly original and alone. From what I have 
 heard however of JNIiss Farren, and one or 
 two other performers of earlier times, Miss 
 Duncan does not seem to possess a very pecu- 
 liar claim to gentility when compared with former 
 actresses, but rather with res])ect to it's present 
 rarity on the stage. But in characters that have 
 lost something of feminine delicacy and tlierefore 
 do not admit the highest polish ofgcntility, in the 
 haughty JuUanci of the Hoiieijnioon and in that 
 Ladi/ Teazle, which seems so perpetual a stuiub- 
 
173 TIIEATRITAL CniTTCISM. — MISS DUXCAW. 
 
 ling-block toM us. Jordan, tho praise of indiviilu"- 
 aliry and most appropriate spirit mu^t be allowed 
 to Miss DuKCAN. Lady Teazle is a personage 
 not overwhclmid with feeling, her gaieties and 
 her sorrows obey rather her bodily sensibility, and 
 as she rules her husband as well as inrrigues, she 
 has lost quite sufficient of female delicacy to de- 
 mand a slight touch of the masculine : for such a 
 character and more particularly for the haughty 
 vivacity oi Juliana, Miss Duncan is excellently 
 qualified by a commanding figure, prominent 
 features, a voice high enough to announce 
 the female but too harsh in general, a power- 
 ful conception of raillery and of the spark- 
 ling bustle of high life, and a kind of personal 
 flourish which in more retired characters renders 
 her vivacity rather too theatric. It is observable, 
 that in the latter p:ii t (f her j)erformance of Ju~ 
 liana, when her hauglity spirit is subdued by the 
 Duke, this tendency to llourish does not leave her 
 with the spirit that required it, but in the soft 
 answers, which she gives her husband, she appears 
 more eager to make a tine speech than to feel 
 what he has been telling her; and this theatiicisni 
 becomes the more apj)areiu from that completo 
 abandonment to the feelings, to which Kllis- 
 TON, who performs the Duke, can give up all his 
 countenance. Her songs partake of the same 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. MISS DUNCAN^. 173 
 
 flourish, though th.ey are evidently superior to 
 Mrs. Jordan's in science, and in spite of her 
 shrill voice occasionally produce even the pathe- 
 tic. If the end however of this accomplishment 
 be like that of the other arts, to reach the feel- 
 ings, there is no occasional singer who arrives so 
 soon at the heart as Mrs. Jordan. The heart 
 indeed bounds forth to meet the effect of her 
 song; from others it is contented to wait for it. 
 
 This perpetual flourish about Miss Duncan, 
 while it renders her less natural in scenes void of 
 art, assists her at certain times, when she drops 
 her real character for some mimickry or effort of 
 intrigue, and the same spirit that inspires this 
 species of triumph enables her to assume any 
 disguise that shall produce an eventual victory or 
 superiority to herself. The general character 
 indeed of her style of acting may be termed im- , 
 posing; she seems both designed and inclined to 
 shew herself to advantage, or to prove her supe- 
 rior advantage at last, in all she says and does. 
 For this reason her two happiest characters, in 
 my opinion, are Maria in the Citizen and Mijis 
 Har (least le in She Stoops to Conquer, in both of 
 which she can display her spirit of raillery and 
 bustle, her powers of circumvention, and her en- 
 joyment of ultimate victory. There is no actress 
 any way equal to her in either of tliese parts. 
 
174 THEATRICAL CT5ITICJSM. — MISS DUNCAX., 
 
 llcr personal appearance, which has more of 
 «legaiice than of tenderness, her conquering 
 jnanni r, and her occasionally vixcH looks, are 
 completely in unison with the conquering, the 
 talkative, the teaming Maria, who can cer- 
 tainly feel very little love lor the man she is 
 perpetually plaguing into melancholy, a vowing 
 and protesting swain, whose tender shccpishness has 
 something in it too much beneath his mistress's 
 feet ever to meet such a heart as hers. This is a 
 fault in the author, but it serves to elevate the 
 vivacious actress. Her pretended foolishness, 
 which so astonishes and alarms the credulous 
 young citizen who was designed to marry her 
 against her wishes, is sustained with a vacancy of 
 talk and latterly with a distress of manner in- 
 finitely droll ; and the contrast between the two 
 performers becomes doubly spirited between the 
 thick civic appearance of Bannister, who in 
 personating the stupid Young PJiUpot is fancying 
 himself so wise, and the elegant shape and supe- 
 rior spirit of Miss Duncan which arc still 
 perceived through her affected idcotcy. It is with 
 the same animation she enters into the pretended 
 employment oi Miss Hardcasilea& barmaid, and 
 nothing can be a finer picture of female triumph 
 than her dashing enumeration of those fashionable 
 ibllies of which her lover had boasted to the bar- 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. MISS DUNCAN. 17S- 
 
 iHaid, which barmaid he now discovers to be 
 the very young lady before whom he had been so 
 bashful ; her air, hor figure, her features, her- 
 voice, are all called into their proper action in 
 this triumphant display. It is, in short, for this 
 pjculiar talent, as well as for that vixen counte- 
 nance Miss Duncan can so alarmingly assume, 
 and that sharp rapid voice which I do not mean 
 to provoke when I call it nagging, that I am in- 
 clined to suppose her performance of Nell in the 
 Devil to Pajj superior to Mrs. Jordan's; and 
 I am very sorry to have lost the sight of this per- 
 formance ; that is, as sorry as bachelor can be to 
 lose a specimen of wifish ferocity. 
 
 Whatever becomes too glaring by this charac- 
 teristic flourish, whatever superfluity of broad 
 manner there is in Miss Duncan, I cannot 
 but in great measure deduce, as I have done 
 in other actresses, from her performance of male 
 characters.* The English are not yet surfeited, 
 like the French or the Neapolitans, into an indif- 
 ference for female shapes, because their women 
 have not utterly divested themselves of clothing; 
 they are therefore extremely fond of those stage 
 exhibitions of necks and legs, which can conve- 
 niently supply the common deficiency of the sight, 
 and at the same time leave the national character 
 
 * Sec page 166. 
 
176 THEATRICAL fiHtTICfSM. — MISS DUNCAW. 
 
 of their women uninjured. This passion is so 
 Avoll understood by foreigners, that an Italian 
 Moman, who sung in this country the other day, 
 advertised in the Opera bills a new scene, pur- 
 posely added to introduce her in male attire. 
 But is it not infinitely degrading to an English 
 voman, to a woman of that nation so famous for 
 the delicacy and domestic importance of it*« 
 females, to stand in the gaze of a thousand eyes, 
 divested of her becoming concealments, and imi- 
 tating the appearance and actions of a sex, to 
 Avhom she is always most lovely when most unlike ? 
 A slave in a West Indian market could scarcely 
 ■undergo a more humiliating exhibition. There 
 are mat'iy indeed among the audience who are 
 entranced on such occasions, and these are prin- 
 cipally old men, who gloat through their opera- 
 glasses on a display so refreshing to their memo- 
 ries. What a charming homage to genius ! How 
 complimentary to the powers of the actress, to 
 think of nothing but the cut of her ancle or the 
 undulation of her hip ! 
 
 It will be answered n>c by the admirers of this 
 personal display, that it is very possible for a 
 'woman to be perfectly virtuous and to dress in 
 men's cloaths. If perfect virtue with women 
 consists in the mere preservation of what is called 
 their honour, I will agree with them as to the 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MISS DUNCAN. 177 
 
 possibility ; but I refer them to the biography of 
 our most famous actresses. By the indifferent or 
 the jovial it will be exclaimed, " Zounds, why 
 what the deuce would you expect in an actress ?" 
 Why, I would expect them to have some ref^ard 
 for the profession they have adopted, some of 
 that spirit which induces a very cobler, whatever 
 may be his temper or disposition, to do nothing 
 that shall disgrace his calling. It is notorious to 
 every body, that the profession of the stage has 
 been lendorcd disreputable by the manners and 
 habits of it's members: but it is a profession 
 which certainly reqtiires a peculiar and discrimi- 
 native knowledge, and wherever there is know- 
 ledge there ought to be good reputation. Every 
 individual performer should lend the assistance of 
 example to rescue it from contempt, if it be 
 merely for the sake of his associates ; for it is the 
 misfortune of collective bodies, that it's degene- 
 rate members even if they do not degrade the 
 minds, will inevitably destroy the reputation of 
 the whole system. 
 
 Let the actress, who is fond of displaying her 
 person in male attire, never forget, that the ap- 
 plause which she gains in such a dress cannot 
 possibly carry with it any thing of respect: the 
 more vehement it is, the more is it an acknow- 
 Icd-^ment of a very lamentable familiarity in the 
 
 K 
 
nn TJir.Air.UAL rnniciSM. — miss dincas. 
 
 porformtr, niui of a very gross kind of gratitude 
 on thv ]i;irt of tho audience. 
 
 I have introduced these observations into the 
 present arlich', not because I mean to a| ply the 
 whole of their inferences and exemplifications to 
 IMiss Duncan, but because I have felt pecu- 
 liarly interested in tl,e future fame of the b<'st 
 laflii c.wr comic stage r.osscssc s, and have not a 
 little lamented to sio her increasinir fondness for 
 male attire. It w ill be objected perliaps, that an 
 actress cannot help appinring in wh.at the manager 
 wishes ; but even tlicn to appear, and to provoke 
 attention by an appearance full of display, are 
 very diiTereiit thing'; : I have seen bolh Mrs. 
 IIexry Siddons, and Miss Smith in male 
 attire; but whenever I I':i\e ^een ihem so dres>cd, 
 th.ey have always given as little as possible to the 
 public eye : jackets, tnrvsers, and cloth panta- 
 loons do not provoke so many opera-glasses as 
 tigiit waistcoats that imprison ilic waist merely to 
 give greater freedom to the chest, wliite silk 
 stockings tiial make ll;e leg want nothing but a 
 pedestal to fix it for tlx' eye of the coi»!joisseur, 
 and ti'ht breeches thr()ti_^I; which .Mr. Sheldon 
 might read a lecture on the saiiorian muscles. 
 Some of our act; esses seem to jump into liiis 
 kind of clothing wilh as iiuich energy and enjoy- 
 ment, as tlie Dutcliman who for a wager leaped 
 
TUEATRICAL CUITICISM. — MISS DUNCAW. 179 
 
 into what are so unnptly termed his small-clothes 
 and fastened them besides, in two seconds: it is 
 only a pity, that the breeches are not of t!ic 
 same kind. 
 
 Miss Duncan is a very spirited and very 
 promising actress, and she has whiit many 
 actresses have not, a respectability to lose. It 
 requires but a little exercise of her good sense to 
 persuade her, that however respectable a reputa- 
 tion may be deserved by propriety of action in 
 private life, the respectability of public charac- 
 ters depends almost entirely on their public man- 
 ners, and that to strut about in all the i:;solence 
 of a military coxcojnb, to slap the jovial fellows 
 on their backs, to laj) cut oaths with a twang, 
 and to imitate drunken lobby-loungers is not tho 
 surest way to preserve either her own delicacy or 
 the respect of others. She may become a \cry 
 gay sort of something like a man, but she must 
 forget herself first ; and in proportion as she does 
 this, she will forget something very ingenious 'and 
 very pleasing. 
 
180 TllEATIlICAL CRITICISM. — MR. ELLISTON. 
 
 SECTION ]Ii.— TRAGEDY AND COMEDY. 
 
 MR. ELLISTOX. 
 
 If Bri.au f.us were to appear on earth with his -^ 
 hundred liands, the world would deny him his 
 powers. There is something in a multiplicity or 
 conibination of powers, that excites the incredulity 
 of mankind in spite of ocular demonstration. 
 Wonder has been defined to be the effect of novelty 
 upon i;;norance, and as ignorance is but a shallow 
 recipient, it is in this case perhaps filled above it's 
 brim and lost in the torrent. In no instance is this 
 liardnessof belief so powerfully exhibited as at the 
 union of tragic and comic excellence. The long 
 disputes and jealousies arising from their combina- 
 tion in Gaurick have scarcely ceased at this 
 moment, and they were instantly roused at the 
 appearance of Mr. Eli.istox, who is the only 
 genius that has approached that great actor in 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. MR. ELLISTON. 181 
 
 universality of imitation. When Vo lt a i r e pro- 
 duced his first comedy, he concealed the author's 
 name because he had succeeded in tragedy : hi? 
 caution was afterwards proved to be well-founded : 
 the instant he was discovered, the journalists 
 unanimously altered their opinion, for though 
 SiiAKSPEARE had done it in England, De Vega 
 in Spain, and Racine in France, yet it was 
 evidently impossible that a man could write 
 tragedy and comedy too. The English are 
 less pardonable v.hcn they indulge such an 
 incredulity, since they have had so many excellent 
 examples to persuade their belief. But after 
 all perhaps, it is the critics only v,ho would con- 
 vince us of JMii. Elliston's utter incapacity for 
 tragic acting, those amiable journalists, who wdll 
 abuse one performer merely to please another, 
 who after <iettiii<i drunk at an actor's table will 
 come and tell us what power he possesses over 
 their senses, and what a want of solidity tiiere is 
 in that man who never invites them to cat his 
 roast beef. These gentlemen, some day or other, 
 will endeavour to argue, that the world is divided 
 into mere merrymakers and mourners, and that 
 it is impossible for the same man to laugh and tO 
 cry. 
 
 Though I do not think Elliston so excellent 
 in tragedy as in comedy, yet 1 would never be so 
 N 3 
 
182 THr.ATKICAL CRITICISM. — M R. F.tMJTOy. 
 
 tastcli'ss ns to brush the dew entirely from his 
 laurels ami alhiw him nothing but his dry 
 humour. He is already the second tragedian on 
 the sta;'e, and he wants nothin;; but study and 
 a more heroic countenance to be at least equal to 
 ]\Ir. Kemble, whom in the true inspiration of 
 his art I thin!; lie excels. His pereon is elejjant, 
 but lit us examine the deficiencies of his face, his 
 peeping eyes, and his truly Enslish nose, and it 
 will be astonishing to consider what a dignity as 
 well as general variety he can summon to his 
 f-atures, and how infinitely he is superior in 
 general expression to Mu. Charles Kemble 
 and JIr. Henry Joiinstox, actors blessed 
 witli faces of handsome tragedy. 
 
 If Mr. Ellistos's want of the hero in 
 countenance n nders his aspict less impo^in^ in 
 grand characters than that of Mr. Kemble, 
 liis war.t of study renders him considerably in- 
 ferior to that careful actor in the graver and 
 l;>ss active parts of tia^icdy. He cannot retire 
 into himsdf with that coniplaccnt studiousness, 
 which feels easy in the ab--.ence of bustle and in 
 f!ie solitar\ (iijoyment of it's own powers: in so- 
 liloquy therefore, which is nothing but thinking 
 l<;uuly, he is too apt to declaim ; and in 
 this respect hi' is like those common actors, who 
 think of nothing but their profession, and for- 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. ELtlSTOS. 18:? 
 
 get that declamation is of all styles of speak- 
 ing the most unfit for soliloquies, because they 
 ought never to have the air of being made for 
 effect. For this reason, his Ilanilct, which sur- 
 passes Mr. Kemele's in humour, and on ac- 
 count of it's youth has the advantage also in 
 appearance, is by no means so just a picture 
 of the more phih)Sophical parts of the prince's 
 character, of his sorrow, his profound reflec- 
 tion, and that mingled air of anxiet}' and repose, 
 which breathes over the manner of a person 
 uhosc hours are spent in meditating one great 
 purpose. The character of Hamlet however 
 ueems beyond the genius of the present stage, 
 and I do not sec that it's personification will 
 be easily attained by future stages; for it's actor 
 must unite the most contrary as well as the 
 most assimilating powers of comedy and tragedy, 
 and to unite these powers in their highest de- 
 gree belongs to the highest genius only.* With 
 all the real respect I have for a true actor, I 
 must rank him in an inferior class both to the 
 great painter and great musician; and neither 
 of these inspired ones has united comic and tragic 
 excellence. It is the pen alone, which has 
 <Jrawn a magic circle round the two powers, 
 
 * Sec page 41. 
 
151 THEATniCAI, rniTIClSM. — M R. ELLIS TO:*. 
 
 and rendered them equally obedient to tlie 
 master's Iiand. 
 
 That ISIr. Elliston's tragic jjeni us is natu- 
 rally equal, if not superior, to that of iMu. Kf.m- 
 J5LE, may be seen in his quick conception of 
 whatever is most poetical or in other words most 
 fanciful in trat;cdy ; and it must be recollected 
 that the extravagant character of Sir Edaard 
 Mortimer, which darts through every extreme of 
 imagination and feeling, was condemned in it's 
 original representation by Kemble, and received 
 vith enthusiasm in it's vivitication by Ellis- 
 Tox. Both these performers have their oxtiomes 
 in madness, but as Elliston's is the violent one, 
 it is less opposite to the frenzied fancy of Mortimer. 
 Mr. Kemble has too much method in hi^ 
 madness, and in his most fanciful speeches he 
 cannot forget his usual precise nod of the head 
 and preaching abstraction of delivery ; he some- 
 times reminds one of tlie sick barbir in thu 
 Co/iiioissciir, who supplied his inability to pro- 
 cure medical advice, by jjutting doctors' wigs 
 on four or live of his blocks and pretrmling to 
 lioid a dialogue with them round his bed : he 
 seems to talk solely for himself, if not tt) hini- 
 M'lf, and occasionally exhibits an air of solemn 
 satisfaction at • Isis own s|!eechcs that becomis 
 absolutely ludicrous. As to love, which is the 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. MR. ELLISTON. 185 
 
 vital principle of another frenzied character 
 performed by both these actors, that of Octaxian, 
 I have already expatiated upon INIr. Kemble's 
 utter want of amatory feeling: his attempts this 
 way may be compared to theoglingof Hogarth's 
 parish clerk in the reading desk; for they present a 
 most ludicrous mixture of the clumsy, the serious, 
 and the uncharacteristic. He seems indeed to do 
 every thing he possibly can to injure the natural 
 effect both of his own love and the love of others, 
 for it appears by a curious communication to 
 the News, that he has absolutely forbidden the 
 actress, who performs his mistress, to express her 
 affection a jot more naturally than he does his 
 own.* The fault of Elliston in Oclacian is 
 certainly not want of ardour, citlier amorous 
 or declamatory. If he bursts into his maddening 
 mouthings with the proper vehemence, he sinks 
 into recollective tenderness with as proper a soft- 
 ness; but like a man accustomed to yield to 
 his feelings, he does both with a natural 
 abandonment ; though his sensations may be 
 momentary, he is full of them for the time ; 
 his feelings follow each other like the buckets 
 on a water-wheel, full one instant and empty 
 the next, now rising with all their rapidity, now 
 disappearing with as rapid a fall. In this quick 
 
 * See Appendix. 
 
186 THEATaiCAL CEIIICrSW. SCR. ELLrSTOS. 
 
 varirty of conveptitG^ nhicb nquires as quick 
 and variuui an cxpre*x:ion, bis manai;i mt nt oi 
 k'aluro not natur^Jty ;;ot'«l b astoo^jhing. Sor- 
 rows anii joys, regret and indulged utemory, 
 despair aad hope, love and hatred, the collected- 
 ncTkS ui reason and the scattiT of invmity, ruah 
 over his features with alternate maisli-iy : if there 
 is anv fault in his Vehemence, it is the indul- 
 gence of that sobbing, ia which he has been so 
 iniu.licioualy imitated,* and which injures the 
 suiiJcnncss of his transitions from patience to 
 ik^pair. Sobs may occaaionally attend a suduc'O 
 feeling of grief, but they are novrr frtfjuenl ex- 
 cept in a lon^ indulgence of tears : in fact 
 they are a violent eStnl of nature t't r(*gaia 
 it's strength aj'ler an e^hau^tiun cf wi-epins, as 
 we may observe in children ; and uc La\e an ex- 
 cellent exaraplc of their pioper imitation in 
 hysterical lauivs, who with much knowledge of 
 cau'sc and iS. ct always keep ihdr hobs for the last 
 touch of tlie pathetic. Bat ihc siaile of Mr. 
 £lli5(TOS is more natural and wiuuing than auy 
 one actor's, and when it suddenly brraLs from tiic 
 midst of hi> melancholy, exhibits a feeling un- 
 kn<wn to Mr. Kemble's counienanc-'', uhusc 
 iiuniliar expression is always accompanied with 
 
TBEJkTKICAL CRrTtCtSM. — XV UXISTOS. Igf 
 
 an air ot" pn^cisc superiority. In most actttfs you 
 cwn fitncy tn^m ihcir fdniili«r exprv«swxj« whai 
 their kH^ling in pfi\ato life may be ; \ru iKCtune 
 acr^uunTvd with the mctu as you do with a [>tioc 
 iTom his works ; but Mr. Kemble alwavs ap- 
 pears the actor ; you seie nothing iu his laoe ot" 
 nhat you ct>»OHve to be domestic habirs aad 
 tVelinfs : be b almost a second m\sti ry of ih« 
 Man with the Inm Mask. 
 
 Mr. Ellistox's ptxuliar wannth ot" Ruling 
 has rvndenHl h»ra the best U.>n»r oo the sla^ both 
 in tm^'tly an»i comedy, a«d when «v considor tfee 
 theatric dominion ot" lovte, this sittrle superkirily 
 j^ives an acfor a greater ra:ige olf charartcfs than 
 «ny one talvut be could pass«.r£s« M k. X2h jl Rr cs 
 Kkmblc ladei^ has ^ much amator\ s«>ttn<i>*, 
 that I once thought btm superior to Elustox 
 it) the sin«:Ie character of KtwMfo ; but h« has sulF- 
 h":> " ■ ~ ■■ ■ - otvrcorae by a luoKt 
 
 j»»-v ■ ". that SK-«m« too mcch 
 
 ocrupted xrttb it*% o«n eoise tf» posses^ tkat attir&> 
 lion to ^ich i^ tbi" sovl dflo^e. When 
 
 Kilt* V - bvte, he apfteiurs Uteraily to Uv« 
 
 «n the object oeioiie him ; he she*'* a mo6« c^'t^- 
 nal ettrttes!!tiess in hb apfwoacb and ui Lb tdk«iMc» 
 to hb tubtre^s, be cflters »to aU Iter Mkost he 
 accQMpuMcs ker speech trtiK alifctioaale jgestwies 
 ot" asjsent or iu^ticiDatioB. he utttlU iiroo laer fiftcv 
 
188 THEATHirAL CniTICISM. — MR. ELMSTOX. 
 
 while she is talking to another ; in short, he is hii 
 fair one's shadow which obeys her slightest move- 
 ment with siimiltanef'US acknowledgir.ent. — L.ove 
 leads to pleasure, and I make a natural transition 
 from Mil. Elliston's tragic to his comic 
 powers. 
 
 Mr. Elliston's love is equally natural in all it's 
 shapes, in the self-tormcnting suspicions of Siieui- 
 dan's Falkland, in the assumed gaiety and side 
 chagrin of/Va/cru^ in Matri7iJony,an(\ intheaffec- 
 tation of alternate submissivencss and tyranny, the 
 pretended indifference, the dry raillery, and lastly 
 the dignified affection of the Duke Aianza. His 
 jjerformance of the second characler is in my 
 opinion a perfect specimen of real love affi-cting 
 inditVerence and at length yielding to it's object, 
 and I am sorry that I did not expatiate in 
 the proper place upon the nature of Mns. Jor- 
 dan also, in his wife Clara. The cool manner 
 arising from their unexpected confinement to the 
 same room after a voluntary separation, and the 
 gradual approach of tiieir hearts, divided as they 
 had been by wayward circumstance rather than 
 by loss of affection, are managed with a delicacy 
 sui)erior to any theatric picture of simplicity I 
 ever saw. Elliston's airs of disdain, when his 
 young wife with sidelong raillery commences a 
 gay song, are full of natural petulance ; he turns 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. ELLISTON. 189 
 
 the bnck of his chair towards her to read his book 
 to himself, then crosses and re-crosscs his legs, 
 then listens with some sort of admiration at her 
 voice though with the book up to his eyes, then 
 darts them again with fitful impatience on the 
 book, as he fancies himself observed; and lastly, as 
 she draws nearer to him to play her lute in his 
 ear, turns his chair more violently, jerks his head 
 with a pshaw of malicious pity and irritation, and 
 again fixes his eyes on the book as if he were 
 thoroughly absorbed in the perusal, though his 
 overstrained eagerness proves him unable to 
 read a syllable. As this distance however 
 is gradually narrowed, the mutual advances 
 are made with the greatest delicacy and under 
 the mask of that common indifference, which 
 allows a familiarity without acknowledging a 
 friendship.' If the wife ventures in an indifferent 
 tone of voice to express something like surprise 
 and satisfaction at her husband's re-assumption of 
 hair-powder, he receives the observation with an 
 affirmative equally cool and with a most judicious 
 hasty eking out of the speech, while he feels his 
 head as if to assure himself of a thing so perfectly 
 indifferent to him ; the author however with much 
 nature has made him so far moved as to compliment 
 his wife with rather an earnest kind of civility on 
 her new head-dress, and then Mrs. Jordan with 
 
IPO TIir.ATniCAL CRITICISM MH. F.I.MSTOy. 
 
 eqiml nutiire ant) a|;rccably to female susceptibili- 
 ty, exhibits a rather wanner acknovvlccJginoiit of 
 the ronipliinent, till at length civility softens into 
 comi-laccncy, and complacency melts into ten- 
 derness : the performers then very properly 
 indulge in as much social eacerness, as they were 
 before distant and slow, for capricious lovers arc 
 full of extremes. This is altoi^cthcr the' most 
 complete scene of amorous quarrd that I have 
 witnessed. 
 
 If Mil. F.i.LiSTON however is raised by his 
 feeling to this amatory perfection, his observation 
 of habits and manners enables him to assume with 
 equal skill the more external love of the fashion- 
 able gallant, that love in fact which is a mere love 
 of the world directed for the moment to a single 
 purpose. IMuch is always said by old frequenters 
 of the theatre, with a very plaintive kind of malice, 
 respecting the inimitable ])erf'ormance of deceased 
 actors, the absence of whom, however great their 
 fame may be, is often lucky perhaps for their 
 comparison with the present stage. You may be 
 amused for a whole ev( ning not merely v.ith the 
 vivacity of Ki.i.isTON in Archer and vSVr Jiurni 
 jnidair,* but with iiis variety of countenance, his 
 complete occupation with busy pleasure, and the 
 dry humour so ])eculiarly his own, and then an 
 * Sec Appendix. 
 
TiiEATncAr, rnirrciSM. — mh. f.t.ltston. If)! 
 
 old fjcntloman sitting; next you, with two flaps to 
 his waiiitroat, shall tell you that Dodd or Gar- 
 RICK was tho only man who couhl do that sort 
 of character; that Vy.g Wor i ington, the finest 
 breeches fifjure that ever was set n, played Sir 
 Harry nnich more correct; and then, ojferinr; 
 you his snuli-box to secure your attention, he 
 exclaims with a sigh, " 'I'he last time 1 saw GaU- 
 RiCK — let me sec — ay — was it or was it not in 
 Dun John '? yes it must have been Dun John, 
 because he wore slashed breeches, — ay— in Don 
 John — and a very noble performance it was — I 
 watched the eyes of the women, Sir, all the time 
 he was playing, and egad, they followed him -bout 
 as if they weie jealous/' Here the old gentleman 
 looks round to the side box;s, and shakes his head 
 with a s.ort of triuiiiphant pity: " Ilah ! the 
 boxes are \ery ditl'erent things from what they 
 were in those times — some pretty women to be 
 sure — but no wits, Sir, nobody one knows or reads 
 about — now there was Doctor Johnson used 
 to be in the boxes when Garrick played — a 
 very great man — I recollect seeing him when 
 Garrick did Lear — he was fast asleip all the last 
 act, and 1 couldn't keep my eyes off of him — lie 
 was a very great man to be sure — I recollect 
 ofleringhim a pinch of snuff once — allow me. Sir, — 
 the true iMacubaw, I assure you — Pray, Sir, is'nt 
 it your opinion that this theatre has a certain vile 
 
102 THFATniCAL CRITICISM. MR. EI.LI?TON. 
 
 hugeness, as a man may say, in it's appearance ? 
 — I often tell Jack Wilkins — * Ah, Jack,' says I, 
 " it's a long time since you and — " At lliis 
 instant the stagc-bcll luckily rings and saves y^u 
 from a long history of j\Ir. John Wilkins and the 
 old gentleman's club, who were all rampant 
 apprentices and critics in their day, and as fond 
 of hissing the actors as they are of applauding 
 their memory. You just snatch an instant to say 
 that you cannot sec how the size of the theatre 
 can hurt it's appearance however inconvenient it 
 may be for the audience, and then busy yourself 
 io entirely with the new scene, that your ancient 
 critic is compelled to let you alone, with an 
 ardent desire however that he had you over a pint 
 of wine, to convince you of the hopelessness of 
 the present stage. 
 
 But social and vivacious as Elliston is in 
 all his gallant characters, there is always some- 
 thing in his manner of that peculiar self-command 
 of action, which is half the secret of ger.tility. Jf 
 'his restraint renders him second to Lewis, as I 
 iiave already obser\e(l, in characters of pure 
 licartiness, it gives him an unequalled grace in the 
 pdibhed gentleman. Blessed with the proper 
 medium between the extreme vivacity of that 
 restless actor and the exiri'me languor and 
 reserve of Mr. Ciiaulks Kemble, he ap- 
 
Tlir.VTniCAL CUITICISM. MK. r-LLISTOX. 1<^3 
 
 propriatcs almost exclusively to liimselftlic hero 
 of genteel comedy, that character which attracts 
 the regard (4' the fair and the fashionable, and 
 that in it's happiest p(;iiit of view, unites the most 
 natural attractives of social pleasure v.ith the 
 nicest repellents of a;ross familiarity. If he is not 
 the " scholar's; eye" like Mil. Xf.mblf,, heislhe 
 *' courtier'^ and soldier's tongue and sword," 
 
 The glass of fasliion aiul tlic mould of form ; 
 
 tind to finish his talents for the gentleman, he 
 exhibits a. fund of miscellaneous powers, uh.ich 
 enables him to be at his casein all companieF; and 
 in all exhibitions of polile acquiremenr. Ilr "is 
 the gentleman of Sir Williaj? .Iot.'KS, v1:o 
 reckoned every litlie ait, that addv'd lo meiital < r 
 bodily grace, an oljject of ambititjn to ])<;l:shed 
 leisure. If dancin;' is going on, he joins in the 
 step ; if fencing, he l"aps into liis poslure ; if 
 singing, he takes his part in the liarmony. The 
 efiect of this spirit is particularly distingui'iihable at 
 those times, wlim the artnr mi;ig!e=, more f-imih- 
 arly with his audier.ce and talks to ih.ein in his 
 own person : thus thi'ie is no ]»erf(>rnitr, wJiu 
 gives a prologue such social elegar.ce, or addres8«',s 
 the house upon managerial tcpicE uiih iu neat and 
 natural a .streuglh. 
 
191 THEATniCAL CHITICISM. MR. ELI.ISTOK. 
 
 liis gayer versH til ity Iiowever is net strictly con- 
 fined to the varieties of genteel comedy ; he can 
 descend with very excellent ininiickry below his 
 sphere, as in his di.-<guises of a Jew and a common 
 soldier in Loie Ltiug/is at LoLLsiuitlis, and in many 
 other low characters wiiich his pride or his p.-iicy 
 has laid aside, since his possession of the tlicatric 
 throne at Drury-lane. It must be confessed at 
 tlie same time that he descends with some of his 
 radiance about him, for he certainly does not so 
 entirely get rid of the gentleman, as he should. 
 He is not in this respect like Garrick, of whom 
 a wild story is related respecting a young lady 
 that fell in Icve with him while lie was perform- 
 ing Ranger, and who was very judiciously taken by 
 her parents, a few nights a'terwards, to see him in 
 the part oi Abel Dr:"::ger, which he acted with so 
 natural a grossness as turned the lady's love almost 
 lo antipathy. Mr. Elt.iston's gentlemanly 
 ])eriniacity however is ofusetohim in one dis- 
 guise, which CJarrick's consummate versatility 
 seems to have led him at t)nce to perfect and to 
 abuse: 1 believe it was Du. JoiiNSox, who ac- 
 iused him of asbiiming the iiver\- with too ac- 
 curate a vulgarity in the cliaracter of Jic/nr in 
 the Beaux' Utrct'ignu. 
 
 The ])erfori:Kince which allows the greatest ver- 
 satility to Kllistox, while it leaves him his 
 
TnrATniCAf, cnmcrsM. — mr. elmston. 195 
 
 proper gentility, is that of the three brothers in 
 the T/tree and the Deuce. In orclor to explain 
 his acting in this singular drama, it is neces- 
 sary to explain the author a little. The story 
 turns upon the adventures of three brothers of the 
 name o{ Single, who are of very different manners 
 and dispositions, but so perfectly alike in appear- 
 ance, that none but their most intimate relations 
 can distinguish them separately. One of them 
 is a serious gentleman, another a lively beau, 
 and the third an idiot, a most improper object 
 certainly for any kind of drama.* Mr. 
 Elliston represents this triple likeness with a 
 felicity, which it is little praise to say no other 
 actor could ajiproacli. I'hc serious JSIr, Single 
 has a servant, t who resides with his master at the 
 same hotel, of which the other brothers, without 
 the slightest suspicion of family neighbourhood, 
 happen to be inmates. Upon this poor fellow 
 turns the attraction of the piece. lie is joked 
 and beaten about by the merry brother, who 
 tlocs not know what to make of his mi«]daced 
 attention; the grave brother, who is equally at a 
 loss to understand his remonstrances and accusa- 
 tions of levity, treats him as a drunkard ; and 
 the idiot gives the climax to his astonishini'Ut by 
 
 * Si:e Appcndis. f See page 102. 
 
 o 2 
 
\96 THCAXniCAL CKITICISM. — MT.. r.I.I.ISTtJS. 
 
 manifcsliiig a total ignorance of his office and per- 
 son. Into these three dift'eront charj.cters and 
 thiiravpi cts, with the assistance ot thrci kinds n( 
 liats and as many modes of buttoning his coat, 
 jNIr. Elliston' changes himself with an alterna- 
 tion as perfect as it is rii])id : in the gay brother, 
 with his cocked hat and inigc trill, he dances, and 
 sings, and f<nces, and plagii'S the strange footman, 
 and (hiris ab(!Ut into a thciisand ideas anrl atii- 
 tiides: ni a nnjiient vou lind him with the jri'm bt 
 of all possible faces reproaching his servant for his 
 fiinci' s, and dt liberatily c Mivincinir hiniselt of the 
 maiKs intoxication : in ati in^lairt he waddlt s for- 
 ward und( r a white beavtr, witii a wide grin upf)n 
 his countenance and with a stupid lisp that 
 breaks e\i'rv now and then into as stupid a giirgle. 
 One does not know which to a<lniire most, his 
 bustling inijjortance in the first character, his real 
 importance in the second, or his si-lly earnestness 
 iind gaping pntmsions to importance in the third. 
 When he l.<ni'-ts of his riches to the Welsh maid- 
 servant, with an idii^tic uiuiuh.tion of whine, he 
 reminds mui of i!ie h.ilt'-briatiiing ponipisity 
 of a iittK gill uiii^-pi ring about lier m w shoes. 
 
 In this tri])le chauicti-r iMu. I'.t.l.iSTOX 
 exhibits wil'i it's usual efi'i ct tl at «lry expression 
 of hunioi.r, which is so ) eculi;.rly adapted to his 
 genius an'.i courlenuncc, and which is in fact his 
 
TiiKATniCAL cr.nrcisM. — i\ir. f.i.listo^j. 197 
 
 arcat originality. All ait acquin-:? it's grcutcbt 
 clfeet tVoin oiitrast, unci particuhirly tlu- nit of 
 humourous ridicule, which in a grave drc^s pur- 
 sues un vnd to which it's means are apparently 
 kitvijequate. It i^ lull of contrast : it's manner is 
 easiest wTicn it's intention is most violent ; if 
 i<ppears to be absolutely indifiertnt wb.cn it is' 
 al)^<;rbed in attention ; it says one thing when it 
 evidently means another; and it's meaning, 
 instead of being dissi!)ated, is peculiarly cmlxulit^d 
 and enforced by this confusion. It might appear, 
 at nrst, like attempting to reach a goal by running 
 away tiom it, or endeavouring to grasp a sword 
 bv puiting your hands in your waistcoat pockets; 
 but in an in;-tant the goal is reached, the active 
 sword is grasped. 
 
 The end of an a"tor, in the manaieiuent of this 
 humour, is to talk in two languages; one, the 
 language of the tongue ; and the other, that of the 
 nKinnt-r and aspect united. Chaulks Kemt-lb 
 soriK'tiines exhibits niucli nature in the lighter 
 intermixture of these opposite elfects : he assents, 
 for instance, to a ridiculous proposition with a 
 very easy gravity that c-ontradicts it's necessity by 
 it's indifference : but he cannot reach the perfect 
 conviction of Elliston, who with half-shut 
 eyes, an opened mouth, a shake of the head, and a 
 «as<il dipth of affirmation, perfectly cheats hiar 
 3 
 
198 THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. ELMSTON. 
 
 interlocutor without tleceiving the audience a jot. 
 His ropr('S(>nlatif>n of Captain Bel'Jare, in Loie 
 Laughs at Lucksmiths, affords an excellent speci- 
 men of his skill in dry humour ; but in no 
 character does he display it with sucii felicity as 
 in that of the Duke Aranza in the IIoiici/ Moon. 
 As this character at the same time allows him also 
 his lively gentility, his imposin:; dignity, and his 
 amatory fire, it is altogether his finest perform- 
 ance. No actor, except Mr. Kkmble, can 
 elevate himself to so marked as well as natu- 
 ral a height from the rest of the dramatic persons, 
 or in other words can exhibit willi sutjh strong 
 propriety that distinct character which the author 
 intends for his hero. The Duke Arania of the 
 poet is the prominent point upon wi»ich fvery 
 thing in tlie play turns and is btheid : the Duke 
 Aranza of Elliston possesses the same relief, is 
 the same central point, gives every thing the same 
 prominence and distinction; but all is natural. 
 When he courts his mistress, it is with the gallant 
 obeisance of the prince ; when he commands 
 his wife, it is with the firmness of one who knows 
 his duty and his right ; when he joins in the rustic 
 dance, it is with that familiarity of the gentleman, 
 which in it's utmost condescension avoids the air of 
 condescending; when he ironizes his peevish wife, 
 or pleads sarcastically before bis own servant, he 
 
THEATRICAL CRrTrCISW. — MR. ELLISTON, 199 
 
 docs it with a digiiifii-d coiiviclion and scM-iousness 
 tliat awes tlio lady while it rnragi'S her. Evory 
 body, who has soon the Ilonei/ ]\Ioon, must 
 recollect his consummate union of dignity, satire^ 
 and good humour, when he convinces thi moc^c- 
 duke, before wliom his wife had brought liim,how 
 easily she might have perceived the ditl'erence 
 
 " Between your grace and such a man as I am." 
 
 In short, I have no hesitation in pronouncing his 
 representation of this character a perfect perform- 
 ance ; and there are but two other performances 
 of note ill my recollection which I consider as 
 tle^crving the same epithet, Mr. Kemble's 
 Pcnmdduck and the Queen Katharine of Miis. 
 
 JSlDDONS. 
 
 With all this variety of conception and of 
 representation, it is remarkable that Mr. Ellis- 
 Tox's greatest fault is an occasional monoton}-, 
 which indulges in a pompous depth of voice and a 
 singular snatching of the breath at the end of his 
 more energetic words. These snatches sometimes 
 amount to a sort of gravc^ sobbing, ludicrously 
 a'jbtracted from e\ ery thing like sorrow. His 
 words seem to burst out with majestic emotion, 
 and then to retire into themselves to enjoy their 
 achievement. From whatever cause this error 
 may arise, whether it really proceeds from the 
 
ilOO 
 
 THEATRICAL CR1TICI5;m. — NT.. Ft.LrSTOX. 
 
 s<lf-ccnip]cicency <>f dcclaniation, nr whether it Lc 
 nor r; ■.Lor a rcrolkctioii ot" ihc i-jxccli-nutkina 
 «;rhoollioy who nfflcis a Gcrtain numly depth 
 of uttoiMncc to astonish tl;c lower forms, it is 
 a mere habit of sneakin:i: which Mu. Ellistox 
 ovi2;lit to renounce with the i;reater ease, biiic it 
 is owini: neither to conf'tied powers of voicu' nor 
 to a confined ran^e of ideas. 
 
 In s])ito of tliis fault li(nvevpr, I consider iMu. 
 I'l.i.iSTON, notoidy with resjject to his versatility, 
 livil in his (jciKral excolle- ee and in the pcrfectif.u 
 I "> which he lit.s brou<,dit some of his cliiiracters, 
 I'i.e j;reatest actor of the presei.t liay. 
 
 J.Ik.Kkmble's ^ 
 frien'. 
 
 f ihal iireat actor 
 ]\Ir, Kemble !*' 
 
 that e.\ce!lt in, unso- 
 phisticated actor^ 
 M K. Cooke ! " 
 
 (hat lofty, en.'r- 
 'jctic, and iur- 
 pn^in<T actor, 
 V Mk. Fupe !" 
 
 Kxcusc mo, £;entlenien. Mr. Kemei.e is cer- 
 tairdy i;n act< r of C(/ii.-i!i:m;ate stu y ; Mu. 
 Cook f. has a gonii.s natural ..d powerful, though 
 eonfincd ; and nla. Pope is an excellent nunia- 
 
TliUATllXCAL Clinic ISM MR. ELLISTOX. 201 
 
 turc painfcr. Let every body possess liis due 
 hoiuuirs. It is mv firm conviction, tluit it' 
 Elliston [iOb^essed the tiae countenance of iM r. 
 Kemble, lie would inbtiiiuly outshine hnn ia 
 every l)o<l)'s opinion, even in the cluuiicter which 
 Mr. Kemble at present calls his own. Mil. 
 Kemble's stiidiousness damps his enlhu.siasni ; 
 Mr. Elliston's enthu.-iiasui overcomes his 
 study: it the one has more judgment, the other 
 has more geniu.:'. Mil. Cookk, liki- Elliston, 
 is a greater comedian than tragedian; and in his 
 peculiar walk undoubtedly iiihpLiNs a liii'.i and 
 oiiginal step; but neither in CdUKviy nor tragedy 
 is he at the height ot the dram:;, lur he is confined 
 10 hypocrisy and sarcasm. As to .Mr. Per e, he is, 
 us I have said before, a very excellent alti^I : 
 Mm. Elliston, at least as lar as i know, is no 
 arli.-t at all. They are therefore at issue : tiierc 
 are no points of comparison between theni. 
 
 With respect to INIr. Elliston's versatility, 
 it is much the fashion for certain critics to insist, 
 ihat if he performs twelve distinct sp-cciis of 
 character tolerably, he does not succeed in any- 
 one of them, so well as the actor of that particular, 
 character; he is great, they say, in the aggregate 
 only : if iiis bundle in short is strong, his sticks 
 are easily broken one liy one. Now though his 
 comedy is in my opinion generally unrivalled, yet 
 1 have granted tiiat he is not so ^leat in tiagedvas 
 
202 Tiir.ATiucAL cni II^rs^f.— MR. elliston. 
 
 Mr. Kemulk, inrrc'ly f( r \\;uit of iiinnn' r, not 
 for want of •zi-niu';. Ikit if thi'so urniUnien flii-irc 
 piM-ftHli )n with vor.-atilitv , let tluni observe tliat 
 JMr. Kemble wants versatility an'l perfection. 
 i\Ir. Kemble is by no means at the hvii;ht of 
 tragedy, since his best performance is Pevruddvck, 
 which is of that mougnl declamatory genius, that 
 belongs half to tragedy and half to comedy. If 
 this actor be suli'erid to want perl'ection, who has 
 to attain it in one or two species of character t»nlv, 
 jMu. Ellistox may certainly be suliVred in a 
 greater degree, who has to attain it in m.in\ . If 
 it be allowed a man not to reach the goal, wlx; runs 
 in one strait road, it may certainly be allow( d 
 iinother, who runs through Jifty devious patlis. 
 
 The powers of versatility unluckily weaken each 
 other's cft'ect, and were a performer able to 
 represent ten character^ to ])erfection, he would 
 run the hazard of being thought inferior to ten 
 other actors, each of whom was perfect in only 
 one of them. A lady in four gauze cloaks of the 
 brightest colour with a yellow one underneath 
 might not boast half the amber radiance of a 
 female dressed in nothing but the same yellow, 
 but her olours would be really as bright and at 
 the same time of a murh richer vaiiety. There 
 are many of these unitarian critics, who think 
 Milton a more subliuic poet than Siiaks- 
 PEAiiE, nurcly because his fancy is generally 
 
TIIEATRICAI, CRITICISM. — MR. EM.ISTON. 203 
 
 grave and employed upon sublime subjects, not 
 to nuntion that he is totally void of humour. 
 SiiAKSPEARE, unfortunately for himself, cannot 
 only elevate our imagination, but can familiarize 
 us with the business of life, nay whatis still more 
 unlucky, he can make us laugh heartily, and has 
 an inexhaustible fund of gay wit and humour. 
 But it would be difficult to i)roduce a sublime 
 thought in Milton which should not beat least 
 equalled by one as sublime in the great dramatist: 
 and unhappily for these gentlemen,- jMilion is 
 almost utterly deficient in one great part of the 
 sublime, which is carried to it's perfection by 
 SiiAKSPEARE : it might be questioned, whether 
 he ever excited a tear. 
 
 In short, if I\Ir, Ellistox performed in 
 tragedy only, he would be thought a much better 
 tragedian, not onl}' because the critics would 
 more willingly allow him his single claim, but 
 because his comic powers would no longer present 
 tlieir superior contrast. It must be confessed at 
 the same time, that he acts too often : his busy 
 frequency of appearance injures him doubly; it 
 familiarizes his powers of pleasing too much with 
 the town, and it leaves him too little leisure for 
 study. They whose value partakes much of the 
 personal, whether kings or actors, should yield 
 themselves as sparingly as possible to public 
 exhibition. Mr. Kemble knows this well. 
 
tOl TUrATRIfAt CKI-llClnM. — M US. U. SIDDO>S» 
 
 MRS. HENRY SIDDONS. 
 
 Tins interesting actress is like tliose amialle 
 ilomesiic woiiioii, whose characters'are socn des- 
 erilxd, bi-cuuse thrir tiuties are at once ccnfjnecl. 
 simple, and pirtormcd with sjiniilicitv. She is 
 Bne oi" ih'.ise performers, who turn criticisr.i into 
 mere tielin-j, and (.<( whos<» unobtrusive beau;i<s 
 twenty wr:lers would s-ay the ^anie thini» without 
 beinji critics Hi all. It is an annabie bolcci^ni in 
 our n;iturc, t!iat to ;ulii;ire what courts our :\i\- 
 niirati(»n is abs<diilciv a labour, wiiile to search 
 for beauties and to be pie;is(d wi'.h llicm, even 
 when they seer;i unwillin;; to be admired, is one 
 ol the most complacent <f enjoyments. 
 
 Mrs. 11. Siii.DOXS is neither a izreat tragedian 
 nor a gre;it ccnietlian, and she altciiipis to l)e 
 iioill'.( r. lier <:enius is entirely ft ininirie, tor ac- 
 tresses like (pifi ns, icjse si)metl;inj; ot the woman, 
 ill pr p:)rtion as they exhibit tlie powers of com- 
 uiand and tlic niort vigorous acquirements. As- 
 
TliKATRICAL CRITICISM. — MRS. II. SfDHONS. '203 
 
 ■sassinations aiKi bh.odslicd are as littlo conducive 
 to fciiinle (iclicacy of ciXccx on tlie stage, as they 
 were in re-il life with Christina of Sweden or 
 Ca t II a ri n f f>f Russia. 
 
 Love, sprightly in Comedv, profound in trage- 
 tly, aiul delicate in every thinj^, is the peculiar 
 talent of I\Irs. II. Siddon'S: if it is not so pla}-- 
 ful as that of Mrs. Jordan, it is much more 
 i-cfin-'d : it is as female affection always should 
 bc; not a love f(ir elegant rake.s, not the love of man 
 in th(> sha})e of ooodmss, but the love of goodness 
 in the shape of man. It is for this reason she per- 
 forms Emily in the School for Friends with such 
 amiable feeling : it is a characterpeifectly adapted 
 to her, because it is remiirkable for that modesty 
 which always accompanies great SLnsibili+y. When 
 -she checks the vivacity of Lord Bclmnur, who had 
 •attiibuted lier frank simplicity to a (iechuation nf 
 love, when she resumes that reserve which she 
 had n( ver forgotten in her persona!, however she 
 niigl-.t in her mental, feelings, when that very 
 medcsly, which is always l;umble, assists her ele- 
 vation of manner, and that very love which she 
 iecis for the man before her jin.aipts her to do 
 awi'.y an imju'cssion that might render him more 
 bold, every cocpactte in the boxes must blush for 
 her own little arts, for the indulgences mver meant 
 to indulge, the distances never meant to withhold. 
 
906 TUEATRICAL CniTICISM. — MUS. H. SIDD0.\9. 
 
 the sigh that says every thing and the heart that 
 says nothing. 
 
 If it is not a great tragedian however, it is one 
 of no mean powers, who can command our tears 
 for Juliet. Wherever there is imagination, there 
 is a poetical spirit, and wherever there is this 
 spirit, there is a decided opposition to common- 
 place. No actress can represent this character 
 like INIus, H. SiDDONS. If you wish to see a 
 love too tender to be excited into vehement action, 
 you discover all it's pathos in the mei k idolatry of 
 her Juliet'^ face, in the calm decision of grief to 
 which she gives up her widowed heart, in the still 
 shudder, iH)t the wildncss, of fear with which she 
 jiictures to her recollection her loathsome compa- 
 nions in the tomb. Her atlVction has been too much 
 subdued by it's own natural softness, by the per- 
 fection of feminine feeling, to start on a sudden 
 into tragic strength ; and it is for this reason her 
 Ju/ut is upon the whole preferable to her Bc/viflera. 
 There is a vigour about the glowing Venetian, an 
 instant obedience to impulse, and I had almost 
 said a prurient velienience, which Otway v. as 
 always too apt to mingle with his idea of youth : 
 in an Italian female perhaps it is more natural 
 than an actress wiih English feelings could reprc-- 
 sent ; but though Mrs. 11. Sj ddons certaiidy 
 excels in the lendeier sccaes of Biliidcra, she j> 
 
TIIFATRrCAI, CRITICISM. — MRS. II. SIDDONS. 207 
 
 surpassed, I think, by Miss S .'ith in those of 
 more violence, in the momoiitary provocations to 
 reproach, the wild disdain, and tl;e wilder in- 
 sanity. She has not strength of person, of fea- 
 ture, or of voice sufficient for even external 
 vehemence. 
 
 And here the satirical touches of Bdvidcra re- 
 mind me of the complete failure of Mrs. H. Sid- 
 DOXS in everything approaching to satire. When 
 I witnessed her raillery of the prof]io;ate dowager 
 in theSc/iool for Friends, it was full of dramatic 
 affectation: it looked satirically and spoke gaily, 
 and it should have dc^ne the direct contrary. It 
 'wiis an inconsistency indeed in Miss Chambers 
 to put a strong piece of raillery in the mouth of so 
 delicate and pure a character as E./ii/'/, and the 
 actress would merely have given a worse effect to 
 the mi::take by acting better. Thus the faTilts of 
 actors sometimes conceal the faults of authors. It 
 is as if a lady were to slip down in atteip.oting to 
 kid: her lap-dog : the thing is better because it is 
 done badly, and the lady saves her character 
 unintentionally 
 
 The most general fault however in the style of 
 this actress is a monotonous dt livery, 'j'in- tones 
 indeed arc the sweetest in the world, but we ::liould 
 become tin d of Apollo's lyre, ^ere it always in 
 one key. It is lucky however that she is almost 
 
*0f^ TiirATRiCAr. citiTicrSM. — wns. u. sinnoNs. 
 
 fofullv occupied with anifitory cluiracti r ; f'-T wp 
 qufslioji wlu'ther in a lover's spccclu-s monutony 
 is not oven proper. Th^re is a monotony in tbc 
 (\"elinps of love, or ralhcr tliciv is an utter flcvo- 
 tion to onf object and nuvlitatinn on one suhjpct, 
 wliicli may produce a kind of unity in rlio tones 
 of the voice. Cluldnn learning; to read are al- 
 ways monotonous, bi'cause their attention is occu- 
 pied with the sincjle task before tin m : we must 
 fee] the varieties of our subj"Ct before we give 
 variety to our rcadinir. A2;nin, if the various 
 imaties presented to our mind in a book tend to 
 some sin!2,le impression or concentrate in one ^reat 
 iilea. tliey prodnc • an'.t!ier unity of sensation, 
 ami it is this sensation peihaps which cau'^cs the 
 •general monotony oiiscrvable in church-readinf;. 
 There is cerlaiidv nM>re of reverential devotion iit 
 the ni'inol'ijiy of our cl> liiy, howe\cr it maybe 
 <lisc,raced by those who do it from mere l)ad ha- 
 bit, llinn in the vivacious worship of t!ie French 
 preachers or the (healric restlessness of the Italir.n; 
 nnd what is this devotion but an abstracted medi- 
 taiion upon <pp.t'p;reat idea? — I bes; pardon for this 
 transition from lli!- theatre to the church ; but if 
 INlASSiLt.ON' made ukc of Racixk in the pu!j)it, 
 the good biihop can have iioobjcclinn to be f{uo- 
 led in the theatre. 
 
 A modest female bowcvcr is beneath no dignify 
 
TKEATllICAI. CRITICISM Mfes. H. SIDDONS. 90$ 
 
 of allusion or of language ; and, after admiring all 
 the sweetness and the feeling of Mrs. H. Std- 
 BONS, I find nothing so delightful as the chastity 
 of her demeanour. One would think, that a 
 sensible actress would cultivate this modesty if it 
 J were merely for it's theatric rarity. When INIrs. 
 Jordan plays Rosalind, you are amused with 
 her archness, her vivacity, her carelessness, and 
 you admire the shape of her leg : the Rosa- 
 lind of JNIrs. H. Sid dons interests you with a 
 chastened feeling, you love the very aukwardness 
 with which she wears her male attire, and you are 
 even better pleased witli her shape because you 
 are left to fancy it. If the sight is more accurate 
 in likenesses, fanc}' is a better painter of things 
 to be liked. When the generality of actresses 
 are representing the objects of a man's attach- 
 ment, their broadness of demeanour produces 
 in the beholders a ki id of silent disagree- 
 ment with the hero's choice, that deranges their 
 satisfaction : his compliments become false, his 
 ardour unwarrantable, his sorrows ridiculous ; a 
 delicate spectator cannot say " Such is the woman 
 I would marry myself." But a modest actress, 
 like JNIrs. H. Siddons, reconciles this incon- 
 sistency : love resumes it's respectability, and 
 with it's respectability the acquiescence of ih-G 
 audience. 
 
 V 
 
510 theathical cuiticism. — mrs. n. siddoks. 
 
 I bcscecli til is interesting actress to despise that 
 occasional di'fercncc of ogle, that languishing 
 lift of the ovf, which is her only affectation. It 
 is tolerable in those actresses only who are merely 
 pretty, and twoor three of whoin placeall iheeffect 
 of their style in this " eye-service as men-pleasers/' 
 These ladies use their eye-balls like tennis balls; 
 they cast them to the ground merely to give them 
 a more powerful ascent ; they throw them about 
 too from place to place, and their lovers are 
 nothing but the objects of aim. All this is very 
 frivolous and insipid : it is as nmch as saj'ing to 
 the audience " I have certainly line eyes," But 
 ^Irs. II. SiDDOMS is not yet in the extreme, and 
 she will easily be sens-iblc, that it is not the look 
 that en atcs soul, but soul that inspires the look. 
 Let her feel as she always does, and leave her eyes 
 to themselves; they will answer with eloquence 
 when their speech is not dictated to them. The 
 soul's painting, like material objects, must be 
 ccjiied into the vision with instantaneous un- 
 aided magic. 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MISS SMITH. 211 
 
 INIISS SMITH. 
 
 Among the arts and mysteries of this great cify, 
 the mystery of theatric management is not the 
 least wonderful. Our curiosity is naturally ex- 
 cited by those manifest inconsistencies in stage 
 ordinance, which have existed ever since individual 
 caprice or interest ruled the mimic world. Not 
 that I have any ambition to explore all the 
 strange variety of things in the wardrobe or the 
 property-room, though an adventurous person 
 might write an amusing history of his travels 
 through the wooden Tartarus behind the scenes, 
 as how he tumbled over a fork of lightning, broke 
 his shins on a cloud, or hurt his knuckles against 
 the main ocean — how at one moment he thrust 
 his head into a dragon's mouth, and at the second 
 found himself kicking against the sun — how he 
 made a snow-storm serve him for writing-paper, 
 found a law-deed in a hon's jaw, carved his name 
 on a cataract, or played at nine-pins with a clap 
 V 2 
 
212 TIIEATniCAL CRITICISM MISS SMITH, 
 
 of tliuiulor — liow the men ami women in lliat 
 strange land, after dying (fa broken heart or kil- 
 ling themselves in the street, would go home and 
 eat a hearty supjier, not to mention how a beauti- 
 ful goddiss who had just descended from heaven 
 would retire to drink a glass of porter, or how a 
 virgin just dead and buried would ride ot^" with 
 her husband in a hackney coach. But without 
 jesting, it would be very satisfactory to detect 
 those interests and partialities, which advance the 
 most insipid actresses to the most impassioned 
 characters, and keep such a performer as Miss 
 Smixii almost entirely from the public. 
 
 The little that is si-cn of this lady is just suffi- 
 cient to display her superior powers, and to make 
 us regret tln' long interval in her appearance. She 
 seems to me to possess a strong and singular origi- 
 nalit}-, a genius for the two extremes of histrionic 
 talent, loi'ty tragedy and low comedy. '1 he inter- 
 mediate departments of acting she does not 
 manage with any superiority : Miss Duncan 
 lias more elegant comedy, Mrs. II. Siddons 
 more of the tendirer feelings. To the character 
 of Lflf/y Tociufai, which is already too tragic, 
 Miss Smith gives a loftiness and a solem- 
 nity of demeanour tliat separates it entirely iVom 
 comedy, and wlicn she cannot help attempting an 
 elegant liveliucsti, as in Rosalind, ihc perpetually 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM.— MISS SMITH. 013 
 
 contradicts her vivacity by a strange uneasiness of 
 manner, a want of st'lf-possession, that would be 
 very amiable if it proceeded entirely from hor 
 performance iu male attire. Her deficiency in 
 this respect is in some measure owing perhaps to 
 her unskilfulness in those amatory feelings, which 
 are generally intermixed with the vivacity of a 
 comedy-heroine. But there is a peculiar some- 
 thing in her style, perhaps a natural reserve, which 
 breathes round her a coldness unapproachable by 
 love, and there always appears to me, in her very 
 youlh, a kind of ])remature matronliness that how- 
 ever it may increase our respect certainly lessens 
 our feeling. 
 
 Tiiere are two characters, which are sufficient 
 of tiie.mselvjs to persuade me of Miss Smith's 
 genius for tragcily • nd farce, those nf Bclvidera in 
 Venice PiesenyU t.nd Estifania in Rule a JVlfc 
 and iidxe a IVifc. Bcliidcra indeed would not be 
 a character for Miss Smith, did it express it's 
 love like most heroines; but Otway, as I have 
 before observed, has raised the spirited Venetian 
 abovt? the usual weak manner of her sex by a 
 violence of passion that would render her mascu- 
 line, did it arise from any thing but love. Wheri 
 Bclvidera is merely tender. Miss Smith makes 
 us feel noihin^ but the want of Mi'.s. 11. Srn- 
 DONS ; but when she complitins of the midnight 
 V 3 
 
ai4 THEATRTCAL CRITICISM.— MTS5 SMITH. 
 
 ruffian, when she reproves her husband with a 
 gloomy raillery for committing her to the care of 
 abandoned conspirators, when she loses her senses, 
 and all her native violence of character rushes 
 forth in madness, she becomes the powerful trage- 
 dian, full of impassioned dignity, full of the thou- 
 sand feelings of an afflicted fancy. Nothing is 
 so sure a trial of an actor's genius as the represen- 
 tation of insanity. If one or two expressions of 
 countenance will sometimes serve a tragedian for 
 a whole evening, here are fifty demanded in a 
 moment. They must chase each other ovir the 
 face with as rapid and as distinct a reflection as 
 wild birds over the waves. 
 
 A degree of violence in short is as necessary 
 to Miss Smith's style, as restlessness is to that 
 of Lewis, or rough feeling to that of Dowton ; 
 and it is this violence, rendered humourous by it's 
 familiarity, which in hcr^ieiformance o{ Kutifanki 
 induced me to think her qualified tor low comedy. 
 Estifania is a coarse character, a demirep whose 
 object is moHey and who bears success or disap- 
 pointment with the same want of softness. She 
 has not therefore much of the feminine about her, 
 •but she possesses a quick insight into character 
 and a bitter spirit of raillery. These two qualities 
 Miss Smith manages iwiinitabl}-. Her eloquent 
 features and large eyes, so dignified in tragedy, 
 
TIlEATRrCAt CRITICISM. — MISS SMITH. 915- 
 
 become the announcers of a malicious satirist ; 
 and Estifania appears, lilce Sallust or Chur- 
 chill, to detect others with the more skill because 
 she knows their vices by experience. Not Cooke 
 himself could abuse his enemy with more con- 
 temptuous sarcasm than Miss Smith rails at the 
 Copper Captain for cheating her. It is fron; her 
 excellence in these extremes of character that she 
 appears to mc not only the second tragic actress 
 on the stage, but if she would descend to scold- 
 ing farce, inferior neither to Mrs. Jordan nor to 
 Ikliss Duncan in comic vehemence. 
 
316 TEEATSICAL CRITICISM. — UR. COOKB. 
 
 MR. COOKE, 
 
 Mr. Cooke is the ^Iachiavel of the modem 
 stagp. One would imagine, that ii he had bt-cn ia 
 the French theatre during tlie revolution, whin 
 actors became legislators, he might have becomft 
 the most finished statesman of his day. He can 
 he either a gloomy hypocrite, like CnOMW ell, 
 or a gay one, such as Cii ester field would 
 liave made his own son. IJe can nndor all 
 his passions subservient to one piissi«,>n and one 
 purpose, and can 
 
 smilf, and smile, and be a v llain. 
 
 IJko most Statesmen however, he can do nothing 
 without artifice. His looks and his tones invavia- 
 ))ly turn liiin from liie very appearance of virtue. 
 If he wishti! to be seriously sentimental, he deviate* 
 into irotiy ; if he endeavours to ap])ear candid, 
 his manner is so strange and inconsistent, that you 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. COOKE. 217 
 
 are merely inclined to guard against him the 
 more. It is for these reasons, that his gentlemen 
 in sentimental comedy become so aukward and 
 inefficient, that his Jaques in As You Like It, 
 instead of being a moralizing enthusiast, is merely 
 a grave scotVer, and that his Macbeth, who ought 
 lo be at least a majestic villain, exhibits nothing 
 but a desperate craftiness. Of his Hamlet one 
 would willingly spare the recollection. The most 
 accomplished character on the stage is converted 
 into an unpolished, obstinate, sarcastic madman. 
 
 JNIr. Cooke is in fact master of every species 
 of hypocrisy; and if he is a confined actor, it 
 jnust be confessed, that his powers are always 
 active and vigorous in their confinement. He is 
 groat in the hy()ocrisy that endeavours to conceal 
 it-self by seriousness, as in lago and Stukehi, in 
 the hypocrisy that endeavours to conceal itself by 
 gaiety and sarcasm, as in Sir Archy M'^Sarcasniy. 
 and lastly in the most impudent hypociisy, such 
 as that of Sir Fcrtinax M'' Sycophant and of 
 Richard the Third. I do not think he can be 
 called a great tragedian, though he performs 
 Richard so excellently. Much of this character 
 is occuj)ied by tlie display of a confident dissimula- 
 tion, which is something very dlM'erent Ironi the 
 dignity of tragedy. It Cooke performs the more 
 serious part with success, if we are attentive to his. 
 
518 THEATRICAL CRITICtSM. — MR. COOKE. 
 
 misfortunes as well as to his prosperity, it is- 
 because our attention has been so fixed b\" the 
 fraud that produced them : we see the punish- 
 ment of hypocritical ambition fallen upon it's 
 proper object. Kemble has more ditinity in 
 the character, but he entirely wants it's artifice, 
 and he has done singular honour to his judgment 
 and forbearance in relinquishing the crafty usurper 
 to the most crafty of actors. 
 
 In the more humourous parts however of Mr. 
 Cooke's K/c/<fl/f/, and indeed in all hishypocriti- 
 cal humour except when it soliloquizes or confesses 
 itself, it may be questioned whether he ought to 
 betray his deception to the audience by so mani- 
 fest an hypocrisy of countenance. It is evident, 
 tliat a consummate hypocrite in real life would 
 attempt a look the very reverse of apparent fraud, 
 otherwise he would render himself lial)le to detec- 
 tion, and in fact be no true hypocrite. To those 
 who would object, that if hypocrisy be thus 
 divested of externals, an actor capable of mere 
 gravity would succeed best in deceptiun, it may be 
 answered, that there are iilways times in a play, 
 when a hypocrite must talk to himself cither by 
 side-speeches or by expressive meditation ; ii» 
 solilocpiies especially, he will lay a^ido the mask, 
 and give a loose to his enjoyment or vexation by 
 setting his features at liberty. The best excuss 
 
THEATRICAL CRITrCISM. MR. COOKE. 219 
 
 however that can be given for the carelessness 
 with which Mr. Cooke's hypocrisy looks out of 
 his countenance, is the unconscious enjoyment 
 which deceitful villany cannot help expressing 
 at the anticipation or attainment of success ; 
 and it must be confessed that any vice long in- 
 dulged generally stamps it's peculiar character 
 •n the countenance. 
 
 A performer lil<e Cooke is necessarily greater 
 
 in comedy than tragedy, because hypocrisy is not 
 
 only one of those baser passions wliich excite our 
 
 contempt, but because it deals much in oqiiivoca- 
 
 tion and sarcasm, which are among the first 
 
 beauties of comedy. Stukch/ in the Gainestcv is 
 
 tragic in the eftects produced by his villany, but 
 
 in the pursuit of this villany he is merely grave 
 
 or sentimental ; and every thing like cheating has 
 
 a principle of the ridiculous in it : Rociievou- 
 
 CAXJLT perhaps would account for this in the 
 
 superiority which we give our own sagacity over 
 
 the person cheated. With all Cooke's assumed 
 
 meekness of countenance in this character and 
 
 in that of lago, with his fits of thoughtfulness so 
 
 inimitably familiar, and his sudden sighs of pitying 
 
 conviction, he is always greater as he approaches 
 
 comedy, and his most finished performance is, in 
 
 my opinion, Sir Pert inax M'' Sycophant in the JVia/i 
 
 »f the World. The author's Sir Archy M'Sarcasm 
 
920 IHEATIilC.M rr.ITICI«M. — Mn.fOOKE. 
 
 is mi'iely a slight outline of this corrupt siifiricai 
 Scotchman ; and therefore it is nothing but a 
 smaller sketch in the hands of the actor. 
 
 Sir Pirt max would be a perfect piece of acfinf, 
 if Mr. Cooke's action was more various, liy 
 giving the person represented a manner, it is 
 sometimes indeed more impressive in it's efi'ect, 
 especially when the character is an eccentric one ; 
 but our love of genius will sometinn.s make us 
 displeased with a beauty itself when we know the 
 performer cannot help it, though Mil. Kemele's 
 I'cnrudilock muy be a proof to the contrary ; and 
 in the case of Sir I'trtinax a varierv ot action 
 T\ould be much more natural, since he is of so 
 various and sanguine a temper, so various in his 
 contrivances, and so various in his U^haviour. 
 A myn(»tony of any kind must be unusual with 
 active hypocrisy. 
 
 But you may see all the beauties and all the 
 faults of Cooke in this single character ; and 
 this proves perha|)S that it is his favourite ono» 
 since he feels inclined to indulge all his hal its in 
 it's representation. The Scotch dialect which he 
 so inimitably a'«sunies is in vain undervalued by 
 those, who persua-le themselves that he was born 
 in Scotlaiul. In the first place, to be merely 
 born there is nothing to the purpose, for a niiiU 
 born upon the tea miglit as well be expected to talk 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. MR. COOKE, 211 
 
 like a dolpliin. If he was educated by or with 
 Scotch people, it is merely wonderful that he does 
 not talk Scotch in his English characters, for he 
 gives them none of those compressed vowels and 
 liquified consonants, none of that artlcssness and 
 undulation of tone so ludicrous in Sir Pcrtinax. 
 It is this artle^sness of tone that renders a hypo- 
 critical Scotchman orWelchman more humour- 
 ous on the stage tjuin any other hypocrite, and 
 nioiT successful perhaps in the world. Sir Pcr- 
 tinax however conceals an unavt)idable ludicrous- 
 ness, which might sometimes injure his cause, by 
 apparent) Y delighting in his dialect and by possess- 
 ing much intentional humour. If Cooke bows, 
 it is with a face that says " What a fool you are. 
 to bo deceived with this fawning !" If he looks 
 friendly, it is with a smile that says " I will make 
 use of you, and you may go to the devil," A 
 simple rustic might feel all his atl'ections vvarmed 
 at his countenance, and exclaim " What a pure- 
 hearted old gentleman !" but a fine observer would 
 descry under the glowing exterior nothing but 
 professions without meaning, aufi a heart without 
 warmth. 
 
 The sarcasm of Cooke is at all times most 
 bitter, but in this character it's acerbity is temper- 
 ed with no respect either for it's object or for 
 himself. His tone i» outrageouslv smooth and* 
 
222 THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR, tOOKE, 
 
 deep; and wlion it finds it's softest level, it's under 
 monotony is so full of what is called hugging 
 one's self, and is accompanied with such a drag- 
 ged smile and viciousncss of leer, that he seems 
 as if he had lost his voice through the mere en- 
 joyment of maUce. 
 
 It is thus that in characters of the most appa- 
 rent labour as well as in a total neglect of study, 
 this excellent actor surpasses all his contempora- 
 ries. His principal faults are confined to his 
 person, for they consist in a monotonous gesture 
 and a very aukward gait. His shiinking rise of 
 the shoulders however may give an idea of that 
 contracted watchfulness, with which a mean hy- 
 pocrite retires into himself. His general air in- 
 deed, his sarcastic cast of countenance with it's 
 close wideness of smile and it's hooked nose, and 
 his utter want of study joined to the villanous 
 characters he represents, arc occasionally suf- 
 ficient to make some people almost fall out 
 with the actor; but it must be recollected that if 
 ■Gauktck was disgustingly vulgar in u-lbel Drug' 
 gcr, he displayed the most fascinating manners iii 
 private life, and tl.at if Mr. Davenvort the 
 actor always looks like a man whose gouty leg has 
 been just kicked, he is said to be a man of much 
 benevoUnce. 
 
THEATftlCAL CRITICISM. — MR. C. KEMDLE. 22J 
 
 MR. CHARLES KEMBLE. 
 
 I DO not know what thoughtlessness or forgclful- 
 ness could have possessed me, when I proposed to 
 class this elegant actor with the tragedians onlj'. 
 I must have been seized with a little of that lan- 
 guor, which is his worst affectation, and which is 
 as infectious in an actor as in a supper of lettuces. 
 But how could l forget his occasional vivacity, 
 his occasional dry humour, and his inimitable 
 pictures of intoxication, so natural and yet never 
 disgusting ; not to mention his frequent awfulness 
 of frown, which is infinitely droll, though he does 
 not know it ? 
 
 jMr. Charles Kemblk excels in throe 
 classes of character; in the tender lover like 
 Romeo, in the spirited gentleman of tragedy, 
 such as Laertes and Faitlconbridge, and in a 
 very happy mixture of the occasional debauchee 
 and the gentleman of feeling, as in Siiaks- 
 peare's CWsio and Charles Oakley in the Jealous 
 Wife, 
 
42t THEATRICAL CniTICISM. MR. C. KEMBLE. 
 
 In theatric love, in that, complaining softness 
 with which the fancies of young ladies ailorn their 
 imaginary heroes, Mr. Charles Kemble is 
 certainly the first performer on the stage. He 
 seems resolved to make up for his brother's utter 
 deficiency in this respect. His performance of 
 Jloiuco would undoubtedly be superior to thai of 
 ]Mr. Elliston, could he shake otf his indolent 
 languor. Fondness of attitude and looks of ab- 
 stracted cntlcarment acquire an additional charm, 
 from his dignified and graceful aspect and from 
 that reposing command in the air of his head and 
 shoulders, which reminds us of the placid dignily 
 of the Antinous. Rut this languor is occasi- 
 onally so unhappy, that his attention to his mis- 
 tress appears to be a painful effort, and instead of 
 being tender from amatory feeling betrays a kind 
 of ci\il pity for the poor lady, the true cowis in 
 vxoretH (.f Horace. 
 
 That this weariness or afi"ect( d patience c.f man- 
 ner is not natural to the actor, but the mere result 
 of bad habit, may be easily seen in the animation 
 of his Jjoertcs and his I'aulconhriogc. If in the 
 former character he has litlh' to display but per- 
 sonal spirit, in the latter he exhibits a very bold 
 spirit of raillery, a gay insolence justified by iho 
 ccmtemptibility of it's object. It is with much 
 ■skill that he suddenly bursts into a proud ridicule 
 
THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MB. C. KEMDtE. 225 
 
 «f the DiiJce of Austria, without indulginjr in the 
 flourish of fist which common actors mistake for 
 indignation ; he does not, like a South-sea war* 
 rior, waste half his strength on the enemy by a 
 preliminary bravado of gesture. All great effects 
 are produced by contrast. Anger is never so 
 noble as when it breaks out of a comparative con- 
 tinence of aspect ; it is the earthquake bursting 
 from the repose of nature. 
 
 One could not well excuse, even in tragedy, that 
 perpetual lightning of frown with which Mr. 
 Charles Kemble pierces the pit ; and as to 
 his perpetual bite of the lips, it is allowable to 
 nobody but a young lady preparing her rosiest 
 looks for company, or to a malicious and mean 
 villain suddenly detected, or to a schoolboy per- 
 haps when he is winding up his top. But this 
 cloudiness of face, this system of frowning and 
 biting is wonderfully misplaced in comedy ; the 
 9B(p£?<r,yipeTX ZiUf, the cloud-compelling Jove, is 
 not the god of levity. What with the lamps and 
 ihe rouge, his eyes may indeed acquire much 
 ferocious decision and brightness, but he would 
 lose no reputation by leaving to Mr. H. Joiix- 
 STON the judgment of turning mere " medita- 
 tion to madness." A frank youth, like Frederick 
 Bramble in the Poor Gentleman, a character. 
 whicb Mr. C. Kemble otherwise performs with 
 
226 THEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. C. KEMBLE. 
 
 most appropriate spirit, never thinks of tliis 
 gloomy stare, which amounts to the expression of 
 an afflicted conscience; nor does a gay villain, 
 like Plastic in Toivn and Country, make his reso- 
 lutions with a countenance that might betray him 
 to thcslightest observer. INIr. C. Kemble's iron- 
 ical contempt of Reuben Glenroi/'s advice in this 
 character, and of Sir Charles Cropland in Frede- 
 rick Bramble, is in the happiest wonderment of 
 tone : his languor becomes a beauty when thrown 
 into the careless slur and patient acquiescence of 
 his replies. Any cool humourist would talk in 
 the same way. But what should we tliink of a 
 man, who when he was meditating on the choice 
 of a watch -string should dart into the most terrific 
 side-frowns ; or when he was asked whether he 
 preferred pudding or pie, should knit his brows 
 into an agony of logical doubt ? 
 
 Guest, (after fro-xning with downward medita>- 
 tionj. Madam, I will take a little pie. — (asides 
 after receiving the pie and frowning with awful 
 study J. I am not sure that pudding would'nt have 
 been better. 
 
 I was sorry to see that Mr. C, Kemble could 
 not help carrying this ludicrous fault into his most 
 careless intoxication : his representation of a su- 
 perior sort of drunkard would otherwise be per- 
 fect. It is this representation which renders his 
 
IHEATRICAL CRITfCISM.— -MR. C. KEMBLE. 227 
 
 Charles Oakley and his Cassio such finished and 
 original performances. To amuse us, and at the 
 same time to maintain our respect in intoxication, 
 might be thought an impossibility, if he did not do 
 both in these characters. But with all that re- 
 laxation of limb, which seems so destructive of 
 gentlemanly appearance, with all that relaxatioa 
 of countenance which is the very reverse of sensi- 
 ble expression, with all that gay disdain of com- 
 •mon customs and civilities which wine inspires, he- 
 contrives not only to appear respectable but even 
 to interest our feelings. I have seen hira, when 
 representing a fond husband who had been se- 
 duced into a debauch, absolutely borrow a pathos 
 from this odious vice, and in the midst of his care- 
 less nonsense turn to his wife with a voice so quar- 
 relling with himself, so broken between gaiety and 
 remorse, so painful in it's attempt to be strongly 
 affectionate, that the contrast of his graces with, 
 his defects, of his powers with his wishes, of his 
 love for his wife and his heartfelt inability to ex- 
 press it, reached all the domestic feelings of his 
 audience. It is the same with his Cassio, whose. 
 remorse appears so much the stronger from his 
 inability to rid himself of the debauch which ho 
 abhors. There is no actor, who imitates this 
 defect with such a total want of affectation. All 
 the other performers wish to be humourous drunk-' 
 
828 TUEATRICAL CRITICISM. — MR. C. KtltBLE. 
 
 ards, and by this error they cannot help showing a 
 kind of abstract reasoning which defeats their pur- 
 pose. Thi-y play a hundred anticks with legs w hich 
 a drunkard would be unable to lift, they make a 
 thousand grimaces which the jaws of a drunkard 
 could not attempt from mere want of tone; they 
 roll about from i)lace to place, though his whole 
 strength is exerted to command his limbs ; they 
 wish in short to appear drunk, when the great 
 object of a drunkard is to appear sober. 
 
 Mr. Charles Kemble is upon the whole a 
 xtry gentlemanly and useful actor, with much of 
 graceful mediocrity and with an occasional display 
 of great genius. It appears to mc, that his un- 
 fortunate languor hides his real ability, and that, 
 like a giant oppressed with sleepiness, he sinks to 
 the level of feebler men. When I call him au 
 useful actor, I do not apply the epithet like those 
 newspapers, who bestow it on every actor that caa 
 do a number of things tolerably, and nothing well. 
 Kot that I would question, as to matters of stage 
 convenience, the utility, much less the genius of 
 any gentleman, who would undertake to read a 
 book at a moment's notice : but Mr. C. Kemble 
 is useful to the audience, as well as to the mana- 
 gers ; if he undertakes a character not originally 
 his own, he gives us it's moral effects as well as 
 it's discourse; he gives us not only the face but 
 
THEATRTCAL cnrTICISM. — MR. C. KEMBLE. 229 
 
 the soul of his person, not only it's gesticiilation 
 but it's proper impulse. A bad actor may be 
 defined as an animal, who utters a certain number 
 of sounds to exercise the patience of a certaia 
 number of people. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 Page 10. — \_those complacent stares at the 
 audience which occi/pi/ inferior actm-y.'l Extract 
 from the News. 
 
 One of tlie first studies of an actor sliould ho to divest 
 himself of his audience, to be occupied not witli the ))er- 
 sons he is amusina:, but with the persons he is assisting 
 ill the representation. But of all simple requisites to tiie 
 mimetic art, this j)uhlic abstraction seems to be the least 
 attained. Our good performers are too fond of knowing 
 they are good ones, and of acknowledging the admiration 
 of the spectators by glances of important expression : 
 our bad performers are vainer stiH, because ignorance is 
 always vain, and because not being able to enter into tlie 
 interest of the scene they nr.ist look for interest elsewiiere. 
 These men in reality never speak to one another, but to 
 the pit and to the boxes : they ave thinking, not what 
 the pei'son spoken to will reply, but what the audience 
 think of their own speeches: they never si)eak a solilo- 
 quy, because soliloquies are addressed to one's self, and 
 they always address their solitary me(Iitati<uis to the 
 kouse : they adjust their neck-cloths; they display their 
 
pocket-hankcrrliitfs an<l tlicir attitudes; tlisj' cast side 
 loiig cjlanccs, and say to ;hcmselvrs, " Tliere's a latly in 
 the stairc-bov contemplating my sh.ijie ! The critics in 
 the i)it are astonisln'tl at my ea<!e ! My character sits 
 well on me, and so do my small-clothes l** But let us 
 imasinethe scene, in which thisextravasrance is performed, 
 to be a real room enclosi d in four walls, !'or such a room 
 the actur himself ou?lit to iinai'ini it. What then is lie 
 lookins at all this time ? He is casting side glances at a 
 ■wainscot, or oeling a corner cup-hoard. 
 
 The principal errors in local propriety may ho di\ ided 
 into 
 
 Glancing at the boxes, 
 
 Ajnsting the dress, 
 
 Telling the audience their soliloquies. 
 
 Wearing their hats in rooms, and 
 
 Not wearing them in the open air. 
 
 This last fanlt is almost, asr general as the first, and 
 twice as ridiculous. We have mentioned it before, but 
 reproof cannot be toooftfn repealed to those who are not 
 accu.stomed to correct themsebes hastily. It is evident, 
 that when an actor comes into a field or into the street 
 with bis hat in his lian<l, he thinks nothing of the srene in 
 which he is engaged, bnt of the audience before him, for 
 whom he testifies his respect by uncovering his head, just 
 as he Would behave in a room full of company; thougli 
 this very same man, when he appears in a room on the 
 stage, shall be covered. AVtre he to carry these mistakes 
 into real lilc, how ridiculous wonlil be the effects I What 
 would bethought of a man who should stalk into a draw- 
 ing-room with his hat en, or walk the public streets with 
 it under his arm ? 
 
APPENDIX. J 
 
 These local inconsistencies are innumerable; they 
 abound in ever\' performance and in almost every artoi' 
 and iliminish the interest of the scene, not onl^' to the 
 critics who can account for tiie diminution, but impercep- 
 tibly to the wliole audience, who feel a loss of pleasure 
 without knowins the reason. They are the more inexcusa- 
 ble as they are easily corrected, and merit some concise 
 reproof from the audience: a few words from the cri- 
 tical benches near the orchestra, or a shout of " Put 
 on your hat I " from the galleries, mi^lit end them 
 at once. The rough criticism of the galleries may not 
 indeed be very pleasant to an actur, but he should 
 take care uut to deserve it. 
 
 Page 12. — [to allow no accent but uhat pleases 
 his caprice or Ins love of innuvatian.] Extract 
 from the News. 
 
 We are amazed that tiie audience do not contriva 
 some means of noticing Mr. Kemble's vicious orthoepy. 
 He appears to alter the pronunciation of his words 
 merely for the sake of alteration. There is no rule for 
 pronunciation but custom, and tlis rule he perjictuaily 
 violates in a manner that would be highly amiisin"-, did 
 it not injure some of the finest sentences of our tracic 
 poets. This defect has gradually increased on the stage, 
 and the other actors, thinking it perhaps a mark of their 
 invention to clip and coin in this way, are sometimes 
 totallj- unintelliirible. A man vvhi) utters one of these 
 affectations in company would be set down by his hear- 
 ers S3 a i)erson unfortunate in a countr}' dialect. [,et us 
 conceive for instance two gentlemen in conversation, 
 making use of the language ofMii. Kemble and these 
 A '2 
 
other actor>, and flie astonishment of a tl ird person over- 
 hearing them. We will suppose, that an offieer of the 
 regiment, tvliich has just heen oniered to let the l)rard 
 prow on the upper lip, is accos(c>l by a fashionahle 
 friend : 
 
 A. Ha, Captain how dost ? (1) The appearance would 
 he mnri) iniprovi-d by a little mure attention to (-) the 
 (3) bird. 
 
 R. Whj', so I think : there's no (4) sentimint in a (3) 
 bird. But then it serves to distineuish the soldier, and 
 there is no doubt much military (6) vartue in looking (7) 
 fnrful. 
 
 A. But the girls. Jack, the girls ! Why (S) the mouth 
 is enough to banish kissing from the (9) airth (10) etairn- 
 ally. 
 
 B. In (11) mnircy, no more oftliat! Zounds, but the 
 sliopkeepcrs and the (12) marrhants will get the better of 
 us with the dear souls ! However, a=; it is now airainst mili- 
 tary law to liavc a tender cou'itenance, and as some 
 (13) birds, I thank heaven, are of a tokr.-\bIc (14) quaality, 
 I must make a (15) vartue of necessity, and as I can't look 
 soft for tlie love of my girl, 1 must e'en look (lo) hijjus 
 for tiie love of my country. 
 
 FuitliCr extract from the News. 
 
 Is it not a pity that an actor, who can give snch dig- 
 nity to M-hat is worthy of bein? dignified, should by an 
 indisciiminate importance level it with meaner matter ? 
 The following lines were delivered with almost as heroic 
 
 (1) thy. ('i)tli)r. (J) beard. (1) sentiment. (5) beard. (6) virtue. 
 (7) fearful. (S) lliy (9) earth. (10) eternally. (II) mercy. 
 (!'-') merchants. (13) beards. (U) quality. (13) virtue. ( lo) hideous. 
 
APPENDIX. 5 
 
 a resolution as the last : Coriolmius means to be familiar; 
 but Mn. Kemble is — what shall we say ? is still Mr. Kem- 
 Bi.E : — 
 
 Cor. I will go wash : 
 And when ray face is fair, you shall perceive 
 \\ heiher 1 l)lush or no. 
 
 The word Fair misjht positively have been measured by 
 a stop-watch : instead of being a short monosyllable, it 
 became a word of tremendous elongation. We can describe 
 the pronunciation by nothinsj else than by such a sound as 
 ftiy-i-r-r-r. Luckily for our fastidious, or as Mr. Kemele 
 would say, owr fast ijj us ears, we had no opportunity of 
 hearing bird for heant ; but it was in vain to expect any 
 repose iit orthoepy, when INIr. Kemele had gotten such a 
 wor<l as Anjidiiis to transmogrify. This he universally 
 called AiiJliJus, like a young lady who talks of her ojus 
 lover, or the oj-is niontli of November. The name too of 
 Coriolfin/is is divided by Mr. Kemele with syllabical pre- 
 ci~;ion into five distinct sounds, though the general ]jro- 
 niinciation, as well as Shakspeare himself, shortens the 
 rio into one syllabic, as in the word chariot ■• the alteration 
 is of no effect, but to give a stiffness to what is already too 
 stiff, and to render many of the poet's lines ha: sh and 
 unmetrical. It is unlucky for Mr. Kemble's audience, 
 that he never meets with a line, in which this absurdity 
 would be too fr(C]uiMitly glaring to be endured. We should 
 like to hear Mr. Kemble rt]ieat the following lines : we 
 will suppose he is in the manager's room addressing a 
 rascally .Tew \\ ith a thin beard, wlio wishes to jiurchase 
 some of the w.rn out seas and thunder of the stage:— 
 
 T/i( varct.ii:', Jew, is scanty as ihe bird, 
 Jy-^-y, aiid t/ie heart as black ; the \ciy cloallis b.i2> 
 A A 3 
 
Pregnant wilh rottenness, \i fny-er-r-r unto'l, 
 
 Though stufl 'd with all the furful marchandizr 
 
 Of shin purloin'd, or shoes, or milk -white shift, 
 
 Once wrapping heav'n, now wra|)p'd wilh airlhly thin'S, 
 
 Kankeens perch.anre, or buckskins saddle-proof, 
 
 Or plusli, or worse lliaii all, rough corderoys 
 
 Six-striiiged, that on the niuMcal knock-knees 
 
 Of 'prcniice-boy seducer, toiling fast 
 
 Through dust and sunshine to the hill of Greenwich, 
 
 Charm'd with mf/q/i/j creaks the easy maid. 
 
 Kay, get thee gone : 1 've nothing for thee. Jew, 
 
 Kor tinsel crown, nor tyger wheel-erahoweil'd 
 
 Tuiful witl) painted deal-board, nor the steedt 
 
 Centaur levers'd, prancing on human legs, 
 
 Mor mine heroic slice p's-hiood, nor the hosts 
 
 Oi pasteboard war, nor mustard-bowl, nor bullet 
 
 " Grating harsh thunder," nor an ounce of rosia 
 
 Pow'iful alike on billowy seas of tin 
 
 To tiash dread light, or soften fiddlc-ttringt. 
 
 hay, gel ihee gone ! — 
 
 It doih abuse my mother tongue to talk wi'lhee, 
 
 Ojus, imljjm, fiijjui, and ptrfijjui • 
 
 Of Mrs. Siddoms iu Volumriia we have nothing to say, 
 but in our usual style of praise. TliC Roman iiiutron had 
 all her proper dienity, but it was not the unbendint; pomp 
 which an infnior artress would liave aflected ; Mrs. .Sid- 
 do vs knows when to lift ht rc'duntenance into commanding 
 majesty, and when to fall into tlie familiarity of domestic 
 ease. This lady and her brotlier are nature and art per» 
 sonified. 
 
 MuNDEN in Meneniiis had a great deal of the humour- 
 ous buffoon about him, but uotliiiig of the patrician friend 
 of Coriolantis. Simmons in the factious citizen would iiavs 
 done well when he ridiculed the haughty chief, to imitate 
 the voice as well as the manner of Ki:mbi.f.. 
 
 Why Mrs. Humphries or Miss Brunton is lifted into 
 a heroine, when the theatre possesses Miss .Smith, is past 
 
APPENDIX. 7 
 
 common logic to discover. This is like Ma. Kemele's 
 pionuiiciation : he might pronounce as well as any man, 
 but he prefers giving us something bad, to make a contrast, 
 we suppose, with what is good. 
 
 Further extract from the News. 
 As ESSAY ON INVENTION m PRONUNCIATION. 
 
 Coriolanm. — So shall my lungs 
 Coin words till their decay. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 The critics from time immemorial have agreed, that 
 invention is the first qualification and mark of genius; 
 but it is certain they have not thoroughly comprehended 
 the nature of this invention. Those'who vould confine it 
 to wliat is usually understood by the word ori'^hxilify, are 
 evidently n:istaken ; for by this simple definition they 
 would persuade us that none were great geniuses but 
 JIoMER, Milton, Shakspeare, and a few other originals ; 
 but the fact is, that in\ention displaj's itself by two 
 beauties instead of one, uris:inaHfii and singular if ii ; though 
 it must be confessed, that the nature of these beauties is 
 essciitiallj' the same, their possessors equally agreeing to 
 differ from the rest of mankind. It is inconceivable how 
 infinitely this true definition of genius will increase the 
 literary glory of Great Britain; the drama for instance 
 will be proud not only of Congrrve, Wycherley, and 
 SnuRiDAt:, but of D'Urfey, Shadwell, Peynoi.ds, Chfr- 
 iiY, DiBDiN, and a thousand others, wh<m the malice 
 of ignorant critics would have condemned to eternal 
 oblivion: in fact a new world of genius will burst upon 
 •ijr view ; in Doctor Mavor we shall find an excellent 
 
bioMra|iiiPr, in Mr. Robert Herov a moet dispassionate 
 Jiisforian, in Mr. Capei. Loft a critic amiably impartial; 
 to be brief, in every street-ballad the spirit of waiiderins; 
 fFoMER, and in every stupid pretender a genius of consum- 
 jnate modesty. 
 
 If by these means we discover a great number of 
 geniuses in writing, we sha'.l find a still greater number 
 in speaking. That oratorical body, the mob, has always 
 exhibittd a peculiar felicity in the invention of dialects, 
 as the writer of the Cant-Dictionary has elegantly ex- 
 f mplified ; but in pronunciation few have excelled tli« 
 daring ima;j:ination of Mr. Kembie, of Covent-garden, 
 who seems determined not oidy to render himself altoge- 
 ther unintelligible, but to introduce a new language on 
 the stage, and make Siiakspexre and Conoreve as dilFi- 
 cult of comprehension as if they had written in Coptic 
 or Hindostanee. The reason of this is very simple: 
 Mr. Kemble is determined to be thought a genius in all 
 possible ways, and while he displays ahapjiy oiiginalitj' in 
 some of his stage performances, is deteiTnined to be sin- 
 gular where no man can^be ori:^inal. One circumstance 
 would be a little unfortunate for Mr. Kemble, if with a 
 spirit truly magnanimous he did not take a pleasure in dif- 
 ficulties. There will always be some envious critics ob- 
 stinate enough to maintain that no man can pretend to 
 dictate to society it's mode of i)ronunciation; that if' 
 Sheridan, or Walker, or Jones were to give his opinion 
 in the course of conversation on the pronunciation of 
 any word, this opinion would be no more than that of an 
 jndividu 1 not very learned ; and therefore that no such 
 man, nor indeed any other, either in public writiuji or 
 speaking, is wa; iaute<l to insist on a favourite mode of his 
 •wji 5 for as iulellisibility of speech is the concern of the 
 
APPENDIX, <y 
 
 rnniovity, the mnjority alwrie can decide what i^ conve- 
 nient or inconvenient to their mutual understandinsr. 
 l?ut, like other superior peiihises, Mr. Kemble despises 
 themajoritj', and is ambitious of pleasing the chotien few 
 only, who without doubt, if tlicre he any such, are very 
 few indeed, and very great linguists. What but very 
 learned eai"s could have found any possible meaning in 
 Mr. Kemble's conversation of the word aches into ailches? 
 If Mr. Kemble wishes to shew his regard for Smaks- 
 peare's metre by giving the proper quantity of syllables 
 to the line, 
 
 Fill all thvliones with aches, ma!;e thee roar, 
 it is somewhat strange that he sliould so often put the 
 poet's feet out of joint, in Coriolanus. Were we to reason 
 from analogj,^ and to divide the word acltes into two syl- 
 lables at all, we should certainlj'' call it «-Ary, since in- 
 words derived from the Greek, the ch before a vowel is^ 
 we believe, invariably pronounced like k, with the excep- 
 tion of charity, archer, and schism. Bat to supply all de- 
 ficiencies of Shakspeare'5 metre is a ta-k fur those ver- 
 bal slaves only who would make Chavcfr's lines as exact 
 as Swift's, and as Mr. Kemsi.f in his very systems is a 
 daring rather than a ploilding genius, and does not us9 
 this pronunciation from a regard either for Shakspeare 
 or the audience, we must attril)ute it to that self-posses- 
 sion or self-confidence which in all ages has enabled great 
 nn^.n to be perfectly satisfied with themselves, though the 
 « hole world were unable to tell why. 
 
 Those facetious getitlemert, tlie lottery-oflfice-keepers, 
 ■whose newspaper advertisements afford so many fine 
 specimens of the bathos, have with their usual disinterest- 
 ed fancy indo'sed the play hand-bills vvith divers literary- 
 eccentricities, that instruct us, when we have thrown away 
 
10 
 
 ArrcxDix. 
 
 half our money at Mr. Hrynolds's Faroes, how to throw 
 away the rest elsi-wliere. This example, we luive liad 
 some thoucht- of turning to aceount in our publicatiou 
 of the folkiwing Lexicon, so that eveiy lady or centle- 
 niau, who should purchase a play-bill, nii,2;ht lin<l a list 
 of the pi-rforuKns on one side of it, and llit means of 
 understaiuling tliem on tiie other : — 
 
 aches, - - 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 aitches. 
 
 beard, - - 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 bird. 
 
 clieerful, - 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 churful. 
 
 conscience. 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 conshince. 
 
 earth, - - 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 airtli. 
 
 err, - - - 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 air, (and sc in every recurrence of the sylla- 
 bles er auJ ir}. 
 
 farewell, - 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 farwell. 
 
 fearful, - - 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 furful. 
 
 tierce, - • 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 furse. 
 
 hideous,- - 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 hijjus. 
 
 insidious, - 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 insijjus. 
 
 innocence, - 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 innocince 
 
 infirmity, - 
 
 - 
 
 
 infaremily. 
 
 leap, - - - 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 Icp. 
 
 leisure, - - 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 Icasure. 
 
 melodious, - 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 melujut. 
 
 mprchant, - 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 marchant 
 
 odiotis, - - 
 
 - 
 
 
 ojus. 
 
 perfidious, - 
 
 " 
 
 " 
 
 j.rrfi'ius, (and «o in all adjectWes endiaj 
 Willi diaiisj. 
 
 pierce, - - 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 purse. 
 
 prudence, - 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 prudince. 
 
 quality, - - 
 
 - 
 
 " 
 
 (tl.e first syllable l.ke that in She word «//"- 
 mint J. 
 
 rode, - - 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 rod. 
 
 sovereign, - 
 
 - 
 
 
 suvran. 
 
 stir, - - - 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 s;arc. 
 
 thy, - - - 
 
 
 - 
 
 llie. 
 
 ■iryin, - - 
 
 
 - 
 
 vaijji*. 
 
AfPENPIX. tl 
 
 you, - - • - - ye (that is, the plural for the singular 
 number). 
 
 ye, ----- jee, after words ending willi </, as deman- 
 j'.e, for demana ye ; or chee, after words 
 ending with /, as hurchee for hurt ye. 
 
 We are afraid that all our readers will not exactly 
 acrce with the ar.a,iiments we have produced in favour of 
 Ml). Kemble's genius for orthiiepy. The Engiiish have 
 an aukward conciseness about them, very unfavourable to 
 these far-fetched eccentricities of genius; and the same 
 spirit that makes thena prefer a short cut through a lane 
 to a circuitous walk round a fine street, will render them 
 disgusted at tliese slow approaches of meaning, however 
 pompous their manner and language. We have more 
 tlian once felt for the distinct speaker, as he gave bis 
 dialect it's most methodical utterance, for 
 
 There still remains, to mortify a wit, 
 Tlie many-headed monster of the pit; 
 
 and we sliould not be at all surprised if, on some tragic 
 night, while Mr Kemdi.e's genius is indulging itself, a 
 i^'.w marks of illiterate contempt should produce an 
 aukward catastrophe. 
 
 Page 20.— [The Grecian Daii^/iter.] Extract 
 from the News, 
 
 Murphy's tragedy of the Grecian Drntf^hler was 
 rendered interesting by the energeti-.' performance of 
 Mrs. Siddons, who like all great performers contradicts 
 the old adage, r.r 7:i/iilo nil ft; fur in this cliaracti'r she 
 certainly makes a great deal out of nothing. Her sud- 
 den start towards Philolas and mute prostration to th« 
 
15 APPENDIX. 
 
 ground to thank him for .'a. iii^ her f;ither'3 life, was 
 sublime. I\Ii npiiY WIS no p jet; his only talent, which 
 was ;in exrelK-nt one, lay iii humour, and he will be for 
 ever rnnembere'l as the author of the fii-st far<'e in the 
 English lan^iasre the Cit-Zi-n. His Tra'/edy of the Grecian 
 Do'igr/ilfr is on< tissue of tommon place ideas, and com- 
 inon-plare expressions ; the incidents which he has bor- 
 rowed from tradition are affecting, but he has very little 
 else of trac;edy ev^'^ept it's laniuaffe, which abounds in 
 pompoils lines and hacknied itivocations to the gods. If 
 thes£ are any eooil sentiments they are not his'own ; 
 >.y»'Rt»nY was a man of learninsr, and has called Homeu 
 and Plato to ass's' htm in ^ntimeiitalii'ina; his tragedies, 
 as he made Pl,»i'ti;s and TbRSNXs laugh for him in his 
 pieces of humour. There i9 but one original thought, 
 at least we believe it to be o.ii.rinal, in this whole 
 tragedy ; it is the idea of P/'//;).'w on hearing that Et/in- 
 Urr had been saved from starvation by iiis daujliter's 
 mill; : — 
 
 All her laws 
 
 Invericd <iui;c, jieai Native triumphs still! 
 
 Tliis sentence which would have been passed o>er 
 amidst iiiuunKTablc beautits in Shakspeare, shines like 
 a star from the cloudy dullness of MuRrHY's tragedy. 
 
 Pa^e '23. — [■/? to the nmspnprrs.] Extract 
 from tlu' News. 
 
 The reason of the production and reproduction of mo- 
 dern jilays \i at picsent not a little obscure : it can hardly 
 be the interest of the Managers, for their views in that 
 case are never attained j it cauno; be the I.eaitty of th« 
 
APPFNBIX. i3 
 
 autlior, for beautiml auHiors tlicre nre notiP ; it rannot 
 be tlio pleasure of the town, for the town cannot be 
 plt'ased with what it invariably condeiTins. Let us lift 
 the curtain a little, and sriance into Ihe machinery of 
 theatrical politics. Paucity of contribution i« certainly 
 not the cause of these mi'^erable pvoductions, for the 
 Manai^er has liis chests full of manuscript dramas ; all of 
 these he cannot bring to lialit, and it is well no doubt 
 that most of them are locked up in everlasting sleep, 
 fated never to give sleep to others. lint in all this 
 mighty mass is there nothing worthy of consideration, is 
 there nothing that can deliver us from such dramatic 
 opiates as the Delinquent and the Prior Claim, and teach 
 us to keep our eyes open, instead of yawning out our 
 disapprobation and wishing f<Sr our nightcaps ? No doubt 
 there is, but the Manager can do nothing: we musi sup- 
 pose indeed that he can distinguish good writing from 
 bad, for if he cannot he is not tit for his situation ; but 
 he may find twenty good pieces, acknowledge their 
 merit, and yet he shall do notliing. We will explain 
 this. A bad writer, who cannot truft to the intrinsic 
 merit of his productions for their success, has a thousand 
 manoeuvres to supply the deficiency. In the first place, 
 he scrapes acquaintance with all the actors, one after an- 
 other, invites them to dinner, takes tickets on their bene- 
 fit-nights, and praises their jokes j these habits beget 
 familiarity, familiarity is the twin-brother of confidence, 
 and in the glow of some fifth pint after dinner our author 
 produces a manuscript written by himseU purposcli^ for 
 tke displdij of the peculiar talents of liix thedtricnl friends : 
 his theatrical friends are enchanted, he becomes a haunter 
 of the green-rooHi, and the Manager at length accepts 
 Lis piece, though he knows no more of the talents of the 
 
14 AVPKKDIX. 
 
 writer, than his drollery at a dinner, his turn of a pun, •? 
 his slappins; the actors on the shouMer and calling thein 
 Dick, Jack, and Harry. Our author has now nothing to 
 think of but the first ni>jht ; everj' goose tliat he hears 
 reminds hiin of the pit, and every oath, of damnation ; he 
 flies to the newspaper offices, and scrapes ac(]uaintance 
 with tho>e goodiiatiirrd i)ara2raphists who cheat the town 
 by false criticism out nf pure luve for their friends, or 
 what is the same tliinir, their friends' s;ip])ers : one he 
 invites to a bottle, a second he praises for his learning and 
 wit, and to a third he whispers, " Bo.r l,r/,ih — 'lo resene 
 — all your friends ! " Havinir thus secured all quarters, 
 and well stocked tlic galkriis with tliose strung-lunged 
 idlers who for the consideration of a few tickets ar« 
 alwaj's at the service of a timid author, he ventures his 
 piece on the public : the actors exert themselves to admi- 
 ration, the ap]>lause tTiat fallows is given not to the excrl- 
 ence of the dialogue, but to the excellence of it's delivery, 
 and thegooJnatured audience in spite of a few discerning 
 hissers are unwilling tu send supperless to bed the miser- 
 able scribbler, who begs and praj's lliem so hard in Ids 
 prologue. The next day all the papers are in raptures, and 
 the old obliging criticism comes fonvard : — " Last night a 
 neiv piece — -from l.'ic fertile pen of Mr. So-and-so — :tv7 — 
 giinuine nature — diui,i:xue piquant — incidents chaste — orisi- 
 iiidity — Mr. **** -xas exceliml — Mrs. **** looked cliarw- 
 in^ly — '^reat eclat — croniled house — promises to he a great 
 favourite." In two weeks the piece creeps into it's grave ; 
 the author however, being a friend of the actors, and as it 
 were 7j«/Krfl/i:<?rf in the grien-room, grows like a bad habit 
 u]ion the Manager, and toils e\ery year to be ajiidaudi-d 
 by tiic papers and to be forgotten by posterity. Such is 
 the origin of the RtYNoi.PSFS, the Dibdi.ns, and th« 
 
APPENDIX. i^ 
 
 ARVor.DS of tlie day, and such are the rcas<^ns that, in- 
 flueiioe Managers in their studies to please the publir^. 
 Such too must have been tlie influence of Mr. Lem'is in 
 prevailins on tiie Managers to revive his prosaic tra- 
 tjedy. This gentleman is more successful as a follower of 
 Mrs. R adcliffe in thf fields of romance. Though liis ge- 
 nius at times appears to have heen nourished in a clinniel- 
 liouse, and he too often mistakes the disgusting for -the 
 terrific, yet it is some praise to a modern roinance-\vritt;r 
 that lie can throw inteiest into hohgoLlin-ytories and 
 ahirums of the nursery. In an age however that caii 
 boast but tiirce genuine poets, Mr. Lewis has no preten- 
 sions to the Parnassian laurel ; his genius forsakes him 
 when his steps begin to tread metrically, and his Iragedy 
 o^ Alfonso, ill it's antiquity of imagery and it's inanity of 
 language, serves but to add another proof to the melan- 
 clioly truth, that there is no British tragic poet existing. 
 Of tlie universal decline indeed of the English drama 
 e\ ery day brings stronger conviction, and it becomes the 
 duty of the conductors of the'stage to (liscorirage the 
 future attempts of those who are hastening it's declension. 
 AVe yield to no nation upon earth in the glory of the 
 conqueror's laurel, why sliould we in that of the poet's } 
 If tlie Manager would say that it is imjiossible to find a 
 dramatic genius, he will not say tlie truth : let encourage- 
 ment but call them forth, and they will appear. The 
 profoundest ages of ignorance owed all their sleep, not to 
 the actual decline of the human mind, but to circum- 
 stances that narrowed it's scope of action. The minis- 
 ters of France in the seventeenth century loved the arts, 
 and they raised what is (-ailed the Age of Lewis the 
 Fourteenth : Augustus wisiied to be immortal ; he 
 opened the sunshipe of his court to literary genius, and 
 
iO irrEM)Tx. 
 
 liis reign is moitali/ed under the title of the A-t'cisTAN 
 Ag:c. 
 
 It has been said, that we are sometimes too severe in 
 our drainatie strictun s. To be se\-ere is not our will but 
 GUI neee,s>;ity ; tlie fault lies not in us but in tiiose uiihnp- 
 jiy authors who 
 
 , in spue 
 
 Of nature and tlieir stars will write. 
 
 It is ludieruus enough, that a man should produce 
 something contemptible and then quarrel with us for our 
 contempt: a criminal who had been found guilty at the 
 bar mi;?ht as well express his astonishment at the want of 
 feeling in the judge. Let the Managers present the pub- 
 lic with something that shall do honour to their own jiidg- 
 nu'iit, and the town would see with \\ hat pleasure we 
 should give them the sanction of ours. It is the boast of 
 the writer of this arfide that his opinions ha\e been 
 guided by nothing but a regard for truth, for the real 
 pleasure of the town, and for the literary reputation of 
 Englishmen; and it is his happiness that these opinions 
 have been apjirovedby the public. Jle was severe indeed 
 with the Prior Cla/iii, when the daily papers were not ; he 
 ridiculed the Di'imqiirtil, when the daily papers saw no- 
 thing ridiculous in it. Who was right .' The Prior Claim 
 died ill a few days after his criticism, and the Ddinquml 
 has followed it to the grave. It is time to rescue the criti- 
 cal character of the public i>rints from the charge of care- 
 lessness, of ignorance, and of corruption ; they are the 
 directors of the public ta-te and the correctors of it's de- 
 pravation, and they should study to deserve the conli- 
 dence of those whom they wuuhl instruct. As long as 
 there is nothing to praise, the Dramatic Critic of the Scivs 
 
APPENDnC. if 
 
 anust continue to blame : the task of correctm» the stage 
 in it'spresent vitiated state is no doubta difficult one, but 
 if he shall have contributed to crush one wretched play, 
 or to shame one uretrhed author, his eftbi ts will have been 
 suffici«ntly rewarded ; and he is resolved, tliat if tlie som- 
 niferous dramatists will sufier him to keep liis eyes open 
 and hold his pen, and while he is honoured with the pub- 
 lic attention. 
 
 no dull dramatic knave 
 
 Shall walk the stage in ((uiet to his grave. 
 
 Extract from a subsequent Essay in the News. 
 
 Etiquette like Fate has an unlimited sway, and like 
 most despotic rulers, it does not always give a reason for 
 what it conmiands : we have ne\ er heard a single good 
 arsfument why the plays on benefit nijchts should not be 
 criticised, but as etiquette forbids us to criticise them, and 
 as the Theatres are just now occupied witli nothing else, 
 we can say nothing further. 
 
 Whenever we ojjtain, however, an intenal in criJicismj 
 we are not idle; we study the criticisms of otiiers, we 
 meditate on those profoinid theatrical essays which adorn 
 tlic Daily Papers, and which, like ail productions of real 
 wit, boast so inimitable a brevitj', and though we cannot 
 think of imitating, j'et we take the greatest pains to 
 undei stand them. From these studies we have gathered 
 some important maxims, which we cannot forbear to com- 
 niunicale to the public ; they are unlike the maxims of 
 Ri>CHEFOUC.At;LT, for they are perfectly benevolent ; they 
 are unlike the maxims of Seneca, for they are perfectly 
 true ; and they are unlike the maxims of the Wise Men of 
 Greece, for they aie perfectly orijjiaal ; gne or two in- 
 B b 
 
18 
 
 deed of those profonud saccs did certainly make soine 
 new obstiTations, for one of tlicin said that iwlhin/^ 
 should be done withunl an opportiinitij, and another 
 gave it as his opinion, that nwmj men -xere evil : but these 
 are sayings tliat, with all their genius, will be of no vast 
 service to the world, while every lover of literature must 
 be struck with the original advantages that may be derived 
 from the following 
 
 RILES rOR THE THEATniCAI. CRITIC OF A MEWSPAIER. 
 
 In the first plncf — Never take any notice whatever of 
 the authur i>f a play or of tiie play itself, unless it be a 
 new one : if the author be li\iiis, it is most probable yon 
 will have no reason to speak of him more than once, and 
 if he be not livins, you have no reason to speak of him 
 at all, for dead men cannot give dinners. 
 
 Secondly — Indulge an acquaintance with ever}' dramatic 
 writer and with every actor, ami j'ou will have a noble 
 opportunity of shewing your fine feelings and your philan- 
 thropy, for you will praise every play that is acted and 
 every actor that plays : depend upon it, the world will 
 attribute this praise solely to your undeviating benevo- 
 lence, which is a great virtue. 
 
 Thirdly — If an audience should not possess this virtv^ 
 equally with yourselves, but should barbarously hiss a 
 new piece merely because it could not entertain them, 
 say in your next day's criticism, that it would have been 
 infmitcly more entertaining if a little had been added, or 
 a little had been taken away, a probability which few 
 will dispute with you. No man of real feeling will think 
 ef damning another merely because the latter cannot 
 succeed in every attempt to please him. If the exclatna- 
 
APPENDIX'; 19 
 
 Ifion hruvo ! will make a man enjoy his supper and put 
 a few pounds into his pocket every winter, who would not 
 cry out braco i Suppose an ugly whimsical fellow were 
 to accost you in the streets and to say, " Sir, I'd thank 
 you to tell me 1 am handsome, or I shall be miserable for 
 months to come," you would undoubtedly say, " Sir, 1 
 am enchanted with your appearance, and entreat you to 
 be perfectly happy." In the same manner it is easy to 
 say to Mr. Reynolds, or Mr. Dibdin, or Mr. Cherry, 
 *' Your play was excellent," and the poor fellow will be 
 as comfortable as if it were reallj' the case. 
 
 Fourthly — If j'ou do not exactly understand how to con- 
 ceal your evil opinion of men's writinsrs or performances, 
 but find yourself occasionallj' aptto indulge in maliciously 
 speaking the truth, always say the direct contrary of what 
 you think. Tlie following little irlussary, collected from 
 the most api)rovcd critics, may be of service to you in this 
 case ; you will of course make use of the first column : 
 
 ^ crou.'ded house — a theatre on the night of a perforn - 
 ance, when all the back seats and 
 upper boxes are empty. 
 
 d^n ainushig author — an author whose veiy seriousness 
 makes us laugh in sjiite of himself. 
 
 ^ sucrcssful author — an author who has been damned only 
 four times out of five. 
 
 ^ good author the general term for an author viho 
 
 gives good dinners. 
 
 ^ respectable actor — an insipid actor j one who in general 
 is neither hissed nor applauded. 
 
 AJine actor ■ one who makes a gieat noise ; a 
 
 tatterdemalion of passions ; a clap- 
 trapper : one iuteaded by nature- 
 B b 2 
 
20 APPENDIX. 
 
 for a town-crier. Tlifs appellation 
 may on all occasions be tiiven to Mn. 
 Poi'E, who has the finest lungs of any 
 man on the stasre. 
 
 A good acfor—' the general term for an actor who 
 
 gives c;ood dinners. 
 
 A cJtanniiig play a play full of dancing, music, and 
 
 scenery ; a play in which the less the 
 author has to do, the better. 
 
 Great applause apjilause mixed with the hisses of 
 
 the sallcry and pit. 
 
 Vithoundedand iiniiersul applause — applause mi scd with the 
 ])isses of the pit only. Thi< phrase is 
 frequently to l)e found at the bottom 
 of the play-house bills in declaring 
 the reception a new piece has met 
 with. The plays ainiounced in these 
 bills are generally printed in red-ink, 
 an emblem, no doubt, of the modesty 
 with which tliey speak of tliemsclves. 
 
 There was once a kind soul of an author wiio could not 
 bear to use a harsh word, even when speaking of viliahis ; 
 he used to call hiiiuvaymen ta.r-<xathereTs, picki)ockets col- 
 Irrtors, and va\i,hcrs iiien of gallantry. Tliis gentleman 
 would have made an excellent theatrical critic; he would 
 have called Reynolds Con-creve, and Cherry Shaks- 
 PEARE, and every body would liave admired his invention. 
 
 Fift/ili/, and lastly — When you criticise the performance 
 of an old play, never exceed six or seven lines, but be sure 
 to notice by name the Fa.shionables in the boxes, for such 
 notices are indispensably requisite to sound criticism: 
 there is a choice collection of sentences whicii have been 
 in use time iinuicmoiiitl with newspaper critics, and are 
 
APPENDIX. 21 
 
 still used by common consent, just as we universally 
 allow one style for a note of hand or a visiting letter. 
 Your observations, therefore, will generally be such aa 
 these : 
 
 Drurv-Lane. — Last night the hmutifnl comedy of the 
 Rivals was performed with great eclat to an over/loicing 
 house: Bannister was excellent — Mrs. H. Johnston, 
 looked heaulifil. — Among the company we observed the 
 Duchess of Gordon, the Duke of Queensbury, Lady 
 Hamilton, and many other amiable ani beaiti if ul person- 
 ages. There was a quarrel in the Pit. 
 
 What can be more concise, more explanatory, more 
 critical, than such a criticisni ? Grammarians undertake 
 to teach a language in five months, Musicians the whole 
 theory of music in five weeks, and Dancing masters all 
 sorts of steps in five iiours, but by these rules a man may 
 be a profound critic in five minutes. Let Aristotle and 
 Qlmntilian hide their huge volumes in dismay, and 
 confess the superiority of a criticism, which, like tlie 
 magic word Sesame in the Arabian Nights, opens to us 
 a thousand treasures in a breath ! 
 
 Page-45. — [It -aas the opinion ofTASSONi] 
 
 Mr. Haylzy with his usual goodnature calls the author 
 of the Rape of the Bucket, the " courteous 'I'assom j'* 
 but this epithet does not seem to be generallj' applicable. 
 Tassoni seems to have been severe in his judgment and 
 inclined to view things in their most unpropitious light: 
 in his meditations even on the ladies, he cannot help in- 
 dulging his malicious fastidiousness, and losing all the 
 natural gallantry of a poet gives this blunt re;>S' n " j;erche 
 le doniie vadauo vestite di lungo,'' " why ladjts wear luuj 
 £ b 3 
 
22 JVPFENDIX. 
 
 fowns:'' " Lc v«-sti lunghe sono introdotte fra le flonne 
 per roprir le difibrinitJi del corpo, essendocfrio jjran 
 Bumero, rhe, sj andassero vcstitc de panni coiti, giumniai 
 ■on tioveriobboiio inarlto ; e molte parti nascose si 
 stiuKino btlle, die, se scoperte si potessero riiuirare, 
 api)anrtl)boiio tutto il coritrario." " Wom< n have 
 introdiu?ed the custom of wearing long gowns to concial 
 the dcformites of their shape, for there are a multitude 
 of sirls, who in siiort lioalbs would never find hus- 
 liands J there are many parts of their figure which in con- 
 renlment appear beautiful, that once emerged from their 
 iiiding-places would totally deransre our good opinion." 
 
 Pai;f75. — [Ihiozo nol ho\i to account} Extract 
 from the News. 
 
 The majority of an audience were certainly never ^«- 
 luded into a belief, that events represented on the sta.i;^ , 
 wer<; realities. The best actors, wljo are the n.ost likely 
 to pn)duce such a delusion, are always the most api)laud- 
 ed J but it is ex idenl they would gain no applause, wer» 
 their assruied chi>racter fornotien ; for in eomu;on life w» 
 do not chip any incident that pleases us in the streets, 
 Hor cry out " bravo " at a patiietie circumstance in a 
 rouui. A rustic, pfrha])s, xdio knew nuthing of the ma- 
 chinery and trick of the stajte, might be momentarily de- 
 ceived ; but the dream would soon be removed by tb* 
 frequent cessations of the entertainment, and particular- 
 ly the alteration of scene, so badly managed at tlie thea^ 
 tre, where you see two men running ^iolently toward* 
 each other, with iialf a cattle or a (:;ar<leii in their gra?p. 
 Thou.:ili it is impossible Iiowe\«'r, and indetd generally 
 •ou^ideted it would b« un^li^asatit; to waintuin Lln>i int*- 
 
APPENDIX. 95 
 
 pression of reality, the imitation of life and manners 
 should be as exact as possible, for the same cause that we 
 are pleased with our just resemblance in a glass, though 
 w-e are convinced that it is a mere ri'seinblance. But tlie 
 most consummate actor gains but half his effect, if his elo- 
 quent imitation is not assisted by the mute imitations of 
 dress and of ^scenerj'. A juan for instance, who in his 
 countenance and his action could displaj' to perfection the 
 mind of the great Alfred, would make a singular im- 
 pression, if his dress were made after the fashion of tiie 
 reign-of George the Third, and his room after that of 
 Queen Elizabeth's. Yet the chronological absurdities of 
 the present stage are scarcely less laughable than such a 
 compound, j^llexdndvr indeed does not rave now in a 
 cocked-hat and jack-boots; Thnnti'on does not frown in 
 a prDf'siiin of periwig; nor does Clen'.uitra wanton in an 
 cuorin ty of hoop-prtficoat. Ent though times and coun- 
 tiies are not set at tins open defiance, their proprietirs 
 are unaccountably neglected. 
 
 Perhaps ihete i-; not a single performer, who kinws 
 how to dress with perfect prspriety, except Mrs. Sid- 
 dons, who is eyceilently classical and just in this respect. 
 Mr. Fr i.tsTON, and Mr. Kembi.k and his brother CtfARi.ES 
 pre iTi'ire a'tentive to their apparel than t!ie generality of 
 actors; bit the second is at ;;11 times too fond of a glare 
 of ornament, and we have seen both ti:e brothers in the 
 parts of modern gentlemen flaming in Court-dresses on 
 the most common occasions. As to the other actors, 
 their iibsordities in dress are innumerable, and are ob- 
 servable every niaht of a performance. CM men of the 
 present diy are hard!}' ever without the laced coals and 
 flapped waistcoats of the last century. The ladies wear 
 »;)ang!ed gowns and ostrich feathers upon all occasions. 
 
24 ArPESDTX. 
 
 and the beaux appear in the streets with frogs instead of 
 plain buttons, cocked hats instead of ronnd ones, and 
 swoids when nobody wears a sword but at court. Of 
 all heauisli dressers, however, Mr. Lewis is the most faul- 
 ty and the least excusnble, because he is an actor of great 
 experience as well as genius ; this gentleman seems to 
 delight in uncouth habilinients, and not unfreqtiently as- 
 tonishes the audience by appearing as a beau in a coat 
 chequered with ribs and enlivened with variegated co- 
 lours : of what age or of what country such coat may be, 
 we know notj all that we can discover is that it is more 
 like the dress of an ancient French footman than of a 
 modern English prentleman. 
 
 Pane .90. — [Lord Oghhy in tlie Clandestine 
 Marriage.] Extract from the News. 
 
 The Comedy of tlie ClaTidext'inc Marrhc^c, the producticu 
 of Gar RICK and Coi.man, was revived at this theatre (May- 
 market) on Wednesday night, for which we are very soitv. 
 The manager has generally been siuccessful in his revi- 
 vals ; but whatever liouour he might have intended his 
 fatiier in the re-production of this play, the performere 
 certainly did not assist him in his design. Perhaps how- 
 everthc fame of the elder Colman has not S|» peculiar a 
 right to be interested in the Clani/rstine Mnrrinse ; for it's 
 internal evidence, we belime, will not attribute it's orisri- 
 nal beauties to that author. Cot.man was a man c>f indi- 
 vidually correct rather than universally pr-werfiil observa- 
 tion, of a classical rather than oriviinal genius; he came 
 to his di-amatic studies with a mind full of the genius of 
 olbersj and capable of applying what be Ixad read to what 
 
APPENDIX. "55- 
 
 Tie had seen •, conscious of his want of oiiginality, he seems 
 to have taken no pains to avoid imitation ; he is content 
 to borrow tlie perception of greater geniuses where his- 
 own eye-sight fails him, and tells the stories ofdramatists 
 and essayists, of English and French novelists, with the 
 same felicity and the same unconcern of acknowledge- 
 ment. As he was destined to be a writer of mere judg- 
 ment, that jndgment cannot be denied him in it's most 
 exact correctness J what he himself understood well, he 
 made otiiers understand wellj for his language is always 
 unaffected and appropriate, and he has the art of confining 
 tiie observations of others to their proper objects. Thus 
 the attack of his satire does not alarm witli it's novelty, but 
 the weapon grows steadier in his hand;;; and wliile he 
 directs it's point with precision, he displays the happiest- 
 graces of gesture. It is from this want of oriiji'nality, and 
 at the same time this art of managing his originals, that 
 we are inclined to attribnte the most original part of the 
 Clandestine Marriage to Gakrick. 
 
 We certainly imagine that the fame of Garrick as an 
 actor has been injurious to his reputation as a writer. All 
 the world were capable of admiring him in the former 
 character, and therefore thej' talked more of it. People 
 are indeed unwilling to believe that a man ran excel in 
 two tilings at a time : when Voltaire produced his first 
 comedy, he carefully concealed the autiior's name, be- 
 cause h ' had succeeded in tragedj'. But no man had 
 better opportunities of studying the manners of the lively 
 world than Garrick, and no man entered it with a mind 
 more eager of observation: it was the business of his life 
 to study mankind, and his universal powers of imitatioa 
 prove that he succeeded. There is an unfortunate some- 
 thing about the profession of an actor, that does ixot ju- 
 
96 APPENDIX. 
 
 spire us with the profuundest respect, probal>ly becalise 
 the generality of actors have lived foolishly, and sliewn so 
 little of their sense olf the stage ; but it cannot be denied 
 that an universal mimic, a man who exhibited the feature* 
 of human life in all their vivacity and variety of expres- 
 sion, must have well understood the human mind ; a preat 
 actor does not copy faces like a ])ortrait-painter ; he 
 makes a countenance for the mind, and not, like an artist, 
 studies to make a mind f >r the countenance. It was said 
 offjARRicK bj' Johnson, who was not eager to jiraise him 
 or any body else, that he was " the first man in the world 
 fur sprightly conversation ; '' and to pay a compliment 
 to a man's powers of conversation, is to pay a compliment 
 notonly to his variety of information, but to his kiu)W- 
 leJge of the mind; he n ho does not understand hum.in 
 nature will find it diffifult to support and to please in a 
 Ions; conversation. In sliort, as Garhick possessed the 
 greater fancy, he was a greafir genius than Cot max, and 
 may very safely claim the original conception of that 
 character in tlie Cl(ini/e.\/iii'' Marriw^e, whose author has 
 been so much disputed: Garbick conceived, Colmah 
 wrote; and thus the proper otVices were asiyntd to th* 
 man of genius and the m i > t judgment. 
 
 The comedy after all is not rwnarkable for it's origi- 
 nality either of character or sentiment. Everything i« 
 jiatui-al, every jjerson is in his proper place, and vvery 
 iiiciilent happens at it's proper time; an equable spirit 
 of humour pervades the whole action, and too much could 
 nut have l)een saiil of the manag.'rial artifice of tiARRicK 
 in adapting the incidents to the stage, fo no imidents 
 have a less theatiical air. The only originality appears 
 in the character of Lord Osrlchii, who is conceived with 
 much liveliness and painted with a colour that iiiiL^riv 
 
APPENDIX. f7 
 
 ait'sts would have made gandy. His Lordship is not 
 merely an old battered gallant, for such a character any 
 budy might have ciinccived, but he is t!ie gentleman and 
 the man of lionour ; if he gives into the frivolities of fash- 
 ion, tliey have corrupted neither his understanding nor 
 his heart ; if he undertakes to eonqvier the aft'ections o-f 
 a young lady, he also undertakes to marry her : and if 
 he keeps a- Swiss valet at his elbow to praise his complex- 
 ion and laugh at his jokes, he has sense enou«;h todespi.-** 
 liini for his pains : he gives one the idea of a man spoiled 
 by rank and riches, who would have been a solid ornament 
 to society had he been any thing else but a lord. Sucli 
 a character may deservedly give an original rei)utation to 
 Garrick ; yet we cannot but attribute it's equability snd 
 tinth of humour to Cor.MAN, whom we consider upon th« 
 whole as the :i.v.7('r of the jday. 
 
 From the new performers we expected n»tliing, and w# 
 found little more. We never saw a failure so I'trerly un- 
 fortunate as the Lurd O'^lehy of Fawcett : the boisteron* 
 vivacity of tliis actor can at no time adapt itself to the 
 feebleness of old age, and as to any appearance of th« 
 courtier in his figure, we might as well look for roses in a 
 stone-wall. He was always in extremes ; if the old maa 
 undertook to be gaj', he-l)ecame noisy and vigorous ; if he 
 WHS arrested in his gaiety by a sudden twinge of gout or 
 twist of palsy, he dropped into as impotent an agony as if 
 his last hour was arrived. At his lirst entrance his voie* 
 and his manner were sufficiently feelde, but when th« 
 galk'ties began to laugli be thought he must make soma 
 better exerli' in, and his vigour amplified in proportion a» 
 it ought to have exhausted itself: you might have watch- 
 ed the climax of his strength gradually rising throutrli tli» 
 whole of the play, till at last he was an old Ujan in u»- 
 
28 APPENDIX, 
 
 thing but his wrinkles and his w alkintr-stirk. In sliort, he 
 was not an old man attempting to be youns, but a young 
 «nc attempting to be old. 
 
 Pa^e 101, — [the T/iree and the Deuce J\ Ex- 
 tract from the News. 
 
 The opera of the Three and the Deiir<', which was re- 
 vived on Monday for the benefit of Mr. Matufavs, was 
 repeated to a crowded audience on Thursday eveninsj. 
 'i'he humour of this piece is founded on the exact ))erso- 
 iial resemblance of three brotiiers to each otlier, which 
 as usual caiiscs much ludicrous confusion, especially with 
 a valet bclonsrinic to the eldest, who continually mistaki-s 
 the otiier two for his master, and is astonished at his sud- 
 <len and unaccountable changes of character. This is a 
 Very ancient subject of the drama, and belongs more 
 properly to broad farce, since it is as unnatural in it's 
 progress and devilupcment as it is productive of whim- 
 sical situation. Who the author of the presetit laugha- 
 ble piece is, we cannot determine, but from internal evi- 
 dence, we should attribute it to Mr. Colman :* tiiere is 
 the same dry i)ltasantry, the same rapid succession of 
 
 * I liave since learned wiili pleasure, that Mr. Prince Hoare 
 imitated this drama fiom tlio Spaniih. When this gentleman lias been 
 original, I have always reckoned liim among <iiir worst dramatists, but 
 in his imitation he has caught a better sinrit. With respect to tire 
 drama, he is like Addison and Johnson iri their poetical charac- 
 ter; of no powers in himself, but powerful in translation, powerful 
 ^vith the strensth of others. As Mr. Hoare is also an elegant prote 
 writer, and possesses much taste in tlie (inc arts, I am happy to bear 
 away his name from the list of those mere farce writers with whom he 
 has so often been confounded. He is ilie Aaron liiU of tlie 
 modern DuricLid. 
 
APrENDIX. 29 
 
 comic ideas, the same forcible dashinc; of character, a« 
 in iiis most humourous productions ; we shouhl imagine 
 at least that it has received some touches from his lively 
 pencil, and as to one or two of the sonsrs, if we had 
 heard them sung in Kamschatka, or accompanied by a 
 nose-flute in Otaheite, we sliould immediately have pro- 
 nounced them to be his. 
 
 One of the Dramatis Personae is however highly ex- 
 ceptionable as to the propriety of it's appearance on the 
 stage: it was veiy well to contrast the levity of Peregrine 
 Sinalc with the manly seriousness of his brother Pertlnax ,• 
 but the idiot Percival, though a character ludicrously 
 managed, mingles something of pity and sometimes per- 
 haps of disgust with our laughter; the more lamentable 
 appearances of fatuity are indeed avoided, but enough 
 remains to present us with a caricature of the most pitia- 
 ble of all objects, the human mind in ruins. We are 
 told, that it is one of the greatest enjoyments of a Span- 
 ish audience to behold a mob of bedlamites shrieking 
 and dancing on the stage : such an anecdote may be true 
 of a people, who with their national character have lost 
 the noblest of manly feelings ; but even this depravity of 
 enjoyment is not so degrading, as tlie pleasure arising from 
 the sight of that infantine simplicity and inane feeble- 
 ness, which seems designed by Providence as a check to 
 the vanity of human reason, and wliich it is never so 
 painful to contemplate as in a young man, whose mind 
 we !iad expected to have arrived at it's most vigorous ma- 
 turity. 
 
'■59 AFPEXDIX- 
 
 Verge 110. — [Caliban in tlic Tempest.] Fx- 
 tract trom ihe Nkws. 
 
 The Tempest, as it was peifomiwl on it's first iiiirlit the 
 wpek before last, presented a singular specimen of com- 
 plicated authorship : Davenant orijrinally suggested and 
 assisted in it's alteration with Dryden, who is said to hav« 
 been corrected by Garrick, who is reported to ha\e been 
 Tefined by Mr. Kembi.e : and it must be confessed that 
 this progressive refinement seems to have succeeded c\-- 
 rellently well 1n degrading the fancy and polluting the 
 language of Suakspearp. Dryden and Davenant thought 
 they had done uuirh i)y adding a feuiale monster to Cali- 
 lian, and a man who liad never seen woman to a female 
 w ho had never beheld any man but the old magician her 
 father; but Dryden in two unlucky lines of his prologue 
 confessed that 
 
 -Sliakspeare's raajic could not copied be, 
 
 Within tliJl (.'ircle none durst walk but hej 
 
 and in fact, ueitherof tliese additional conceptions is above 
 the genius of a schoolboy. When once the monster Calihnn 
 is created, it is easy to fancy a thousand monsters. 
 It is the same with the imitators of Gulliver : the 
 giant among the little men, atul the little man among 
 the giants have been imagined once, and you can fancy 
 nothing more of the same kind, that shall clain> the 
 praise of imagination. If poetical creation must bo 
 allowed to be an imitation of nature ©r at best yf 
 
APPENDIX, 5!i 
 
 wn original combination of natural properties and 
 iuia;j;es, still it ceases to be creative when it imitates itself: 
 imagination must possess the novelty of a first idea; tbe 
 additions to this first idea are mere conceptions resulting 
 from the hint of the original ; they are no more imagina- 
 tion than moonlight is the sun from which it is borrowed. 
 But Dryden has added nothing worthy of Tiis original 
 even in the language : he has filled the dialogue, if not, 
 with direct ribaldry, with obscene Jlouble meanings and 
 inucndos, which he lias contrived to render as disgusting 
 as possible by putting them in the moutlis of two innocent 
 virgins. Mr. Kemble very judiciously omitted the fe- 
 male monster 'S^ycoror, who differs from Calihnn in nothing 
 but sev : why could he not have omitted the monstrous 
 language also, which the audience no sooner heard than 
 they detested? The hand 'if DnYDEN^like that of Mac- 
 beth 's wife, had a " damned spot" of which he could not 
 rid himself: it communicated itself to his pen on all oc- 
 casions serious and gaj'^, and has been lamented not only 
 by the admirers of that great genius, but with a very pow- 
 erful, though even then a coarse feeli(%, by himself in his 
 Ode o» t.'ie Death of Mrs. Killisrezv. Mr. Kemble should 
 read this Poem : he has no such licentious age to gratify 
 as Dryden had ; the nonsense of Messrs. Reynolds and 
 DiBDiN is a sufficient degradation of the stage without 
 ransacking the old writers for more dangerous abuses. 
 Not to mention the utter want of delicacy which induces 
 the gra\e actor to set his young female pci formers before 
 the public in this disgusting light, not to mention the in- 
 sult he offers in their persons to the taste of the public, 
 there is something monstrous in Resuscitating to all their 
 animation the vices of departed and penitent genius, in 
 rendei ing them immortal not only in their infamy but in 
 
38 ArptNDix. 
 
 their effects, in making the unhappy writrr guilty of tlie 
 posthtimoiLs \vi<'kediiess of scattering poison on society, 
 when both liis liand and his will lie helplessly in the grave. 
 
 We should have said more of this in our present Paper, 
 but Mr. Kemb4,e has since omitted the obnoxious pass- 
 ages, though we are sorry that it was the hissing of the audi- 
 ence, and ilothisown tnste, that produced the omission. 
 
 A youug Lady of the name of Meadows appeared on 
 the first night in the part of Ariel, and has since kept 
 her situation with tiie most flattering applause. Her 
 face though not handsome is sensible, and exhibits a sort 
 of earnestness very natural to that active and enterprising 
 spirit; lier figure possesses elegance and delicacy j if we 
 thought it wanted something of sprightly ease, perhaps we 
 did not make sufficient allowance for that look of corpo- 
 Tcaliiy which au actress, however light her motions may be, 
 cannot possibly avoid in the represenUition of a being, wh» 
 is air itself. Her singing was perfectly appropriate : the 
 lighter tones of her voice are much better than the lower 
 ones, but the; stylt; of her songs was always delicate and 
 tasteful. We very much admired the air of modesty 
 which this young Lady preserved in a dress necessarily 
 light and thin. Modesty is the charm that is the soonest 
 discovered and admired in a female, tiiough it is the least 
 anxious to look forth or obtrude upon the beholder. Tlie 
 modesty of an actress is not only delightful from it's no- 
 velty, but it makes the spectator contented with himself, 
 as well as with the performers, because he no longer 
 blushes to patronize them. 
 
 Emery's Caliban « as one of the best pieces of acting we 
 Jiave ever seen. He conceived with infinite vigour that 
 -vnion of the man and the beast, which renders the mon- 
 ster so odious aud malignant a being; nothing could be 
 
APPENDIX. 53 
 
 moresuitalile to the character than the occasional erowl- 
 ings which finished the complaints of the savage, and the 
 grinning eagerness of malignity which accompanied his 
 Curses on Prospeio. It appeared to us however, that after 
 he had dnjnk so much of a liquor to which he was unac- 
 customed, and indeed after he had acknowledged it's 
 power by reeling on the stage, he should not have dis- 
 played so sober a voice in his song : we think that Sh aks- 
 rEARE intended this song to be given in the style of a 
 drunkard, by the breaks which he has marked in the line — 
 
 ban — ban — Ca-Caliban 
 
 which could hardlj' have been a chorus. We do not re- 
 collect whether the commentators have noticed this. 
 
 The character of Prospero could not have been sustain- 
 ed by any one actor on the stage with so much etfect as 
 by Mr. KEMBr.E. The majestic presence and dignity of 
 the princely enchanter, conscious of his virtue, his wrongs, 
 and his supernatural power, were displayed with an un- 
 deviating spirit, with that proud composure which seems 
 a peculiar property of this actor. Is it not lamentable, 
 that a performer who by forgetting a few singularities 
 might produce twice the efl'ect he does, will persist in 
 tlicm for no apparent reason but the love of singularity ? 
 Of his curious pronunciation of the word nchcs, whicli he 
 converts into aiicht's, we shall say something in onr next, 
 wlien we intend to present our readers with a Glossary of 
 Mr. Kentbk's Pronunciations.'^ 
 
 * See page 7 of this Appendix. 
 
 c « 
 
34 
 
 Page 14-0. — [I do not spcal< from momentary 
 consideration, for I have eagerly sifted the sub- 
 ject before] Extract from the News of l6ih 
 March, 1806\ 
 
 Academic Theatre. 
 
 The Sans Souci in Leicester-Place opeiieJ under this 
 title, on Tuesday, for the purpose of proving, as the 
 Proprietors expressed tliemselves in the bills, " how far 
 children, well -tutored, are capable of gixiiig amuse- 
 ment while they derive essential benelit themselves." 
 The bills ftirther stated that, the idea bail been " bor 
 rowed from a neighl)ouring country, which had found 
 S'lch a plan of infinite iK'nefit to the capital theatres." 
 or this latter statement, we understand, the informa- 
 tion is erroneous, since the Parisian sta^e has ac- 
 quiretl no great actoi-s, thouarh it may ha\e gained 
 one or two useful ones, from ii's infant theatie. It is 
 sa'd that Garrick made the same attempt j and that his 
 little stasre produced our present celebrated Mus Pope : 
 but Miss Pope, or any other theatric geniu^,Av()uld no 
 •loubt have attained e(jual powei-s without such an edu- 
 cation ; for the art of acting is not to be taught by a 
 schoolmaster, but by the world. The plan is a complica- 
 tion of errors. The tra;;edy of Don'^las made the audi- 
 ence laugh, and such an eHect was to have been expect- 
 ed, not only because the girls were twice as tall as the 
 boys, and neither girls nor boys knew their parts, but 
 because the majestic language of tragedy becomes bur- 
 le que in the mouth of childhood. We are pleased in 
 
APPENDIX. 35 
 
 theatrical j)erfonnances with the just imitation of life ; 
 but who can imitate life that has not seen it ? An 
 Academic Theatre, if such a thing be allowable at all, 
 should never be a public one : it is ludicrous enough 
 that people should pay to see the blunders of children ; 
 money might as well be asked for admittance to hear a 
 lesson at school : all the difference is, that in one place ^."X- 
 Syntax is murdered, and in tlie other, Shakspeare ; or *►"* 
 rather, that in the other, tliey murder both Syntax and 
 Shakspeare, That the little Academics will " derive 
 essential benefit to themselves," we are as equally dis- 
 posed to doubt, as that they will be of beneQt to others^ 
 But rather than be tedious on so plain a subject, we shall 
 resolve our conclusions into two parts : 
 
 I. It is impossible that they should amuse the public, 
 because they cannot attain the end of the drama, which 
 is the imitation of life. 
 
 II. It is impossible tliat they should benefit them- 
 selves, because the nature of tUKi^stadies destroys that 
 innocent simplicity of thought and behaviour which is the 
 keauty and the happiness of childhood. 
 
 Extract from a subsequent News. 
 
 Academic T/icalrt. 
 
 We have for some time past been very peculiar ad- 
 mirers of this institution, and we can no longer forbear 
 to express our admiration. The epithet of beautiful 
 has been applied by some philosopliers to designs which 
 attain their end ; nothing therefore can be more beau- 
 tiful than the idea of such a theatre, for it perfectly 
 attaim it's cud, and is productive of the most charming 
 c c 5i 
 
36 appekdix. 
 
 immorality and the most delightful ^-icious education. 
 Nothing can be more interesting than the manners of 
 it's juvenile mimics j their forwardness is so winning and 
 their self possession so extremely natural, that it ran be 
 exceeded by nothingbut the dispositions of their relations, 
 so fond as they are of childhood and so easrer to gain an 
 honest livelihood by sacrificing it's health and it's simpli- 
 city. 
 
 The wise fondness of parents in private life is nothing 
 to this : sometimes indeed we may admire the virtuous 
 lessons of a father, who exhibits his infant to every com- 
 pany and to every flatterer. The child is introduced 
 after dinner to sing a song, or to make a bow, or to tell 
 the ladies amusing stories about the footman and the 
 inaid ; the song i-; quite out of tune, the bow is the most 
 aukward of scrapes, and the stories are utteily false; 
 every body is delighted, and everj' body tells him he is a 
 perfect bcauttj and the hcst goot' child in the ivorld : he is 
 then danced from one person's knee to another's, the 
 gentlemen teach him how to fight and to cpiiz his father, 
 and the ladies iu-ctruct him in the act of cheating his 
 mother : these sensible amusements occupy tlic whole of 
 the e\ening, for nobody can think of parting with the 
 dear child, who runs the gauntlet through a host of 
 flatterers and money-givers, becomes sleepy and fretful, 
 and bursts out into a lit of crying as if twenty bodkins 
 were piercing his ribs, till at la^t, amidst kisses and 
 strugglings, and a little more flattery to make him quiet, 
 he is sent to bed, and like the best good child in the zcorld 
 scratches the maid sill the way up stairs. All this ruins 
 the health and comfort of the child, but then he guts a 
 great many shillings and sugar-plums, and is a most -dLvn^ 
 dc-yful Itttk'fdlu-j:. 
 
APPENDIX. 3T 
 
 Bnt the conductors of the Academic Theatre shew a 
 parental concern for their children far superior to this 
 wisdom of private life. If my little master is brought 
 forward for the admiration of a room, the little actov 
 must meet the thundering applause of a theatre; he 
 stands in the glare of lamps, and in the gaze of ladies, 
 his face is dashed with paint because he has no leisure 
 for bed and tliercfore no colour of his own ; he has not 
 even a blush, for blushing is a weakness of which no 
 player three feet high would be guilty. If a child is 
 pnsised at home for telling charmin'x tales of the romp- 
 ing servants, the little actor, nay the little actress, is 
 applauded by a crowd for giving furce to the more 
 charming iniquities of WvcHERr-EY and other glowing 
 writers : thus nothing can be more proper for a little 
 female than lo represent the Country Girl; it gives her 
 such new ideas and induces her to get rid of that fool- 
 ish innocent behaviour which makes the other sex so 
 distant and so cold : the little boys too in the perform- 
 ance of such a comedy gain much improvement of this 
 kind ; they become what is called knozc'ms frlhzvs, and 
 can stare a female audience in the face with as much 
 unconcern as they would contemplate a piece of giiT- 
 gerbiead : this sheyvs that they have no I'idiculous b.Tsh- 
 fulness, which niicjht be detrimental to their advance- 
 ment in knowledge. For an audience indeed of any 
 sort, our infant players seem to have a most mature 
 contempt, and no doubt with reason, for nothing can 
 be more contemptible than those who pay money for 
 nothing. 
 
 Thus in a little time we shall behold these sprightly 
 children totally exempt from the uncomfortable re- 
 strictions of childhood, such as regular hours, simpli- 
 c c 3 
 
98 IPPERDIX. 
 
 tity of manners, and innocence of mind ; they will he- 
 comt so pale and so impudent, that while they are 8 
 irreat profit to their friends they will present a delijlitful 
 spectacle to the whole town ; the boys haviner learnt 
 BO tcade and no regular habits will be a set of as jollu 
 fdlozvs, and as much use in the world, as any man 
 who knows nothing can be ; and thouiii the girls may 
 »ot be introduced on the stage of Covont-earden or 
 Drury-lane Theatres, they will most probably display 
 their virtues in the lobbies for the benefit of the rising 
 generation. Surely there is not a parent w ho wotild not 
 willingly encourage so laudable an institution : for his parf , 
 the writer of this article pei-fertly agrees with a gentle- 
 man, who iaid in hi* hearing, that it was a " de;.ilith fiiw 
 thing!'' 
 
 Page 185. — [a Jet more naturaUif them he doet 
 his ortn.] Extract from the News. 
 
 TO Trr.ATRlCAL r,Or:t!E<;PONDENTS, 
 
 We have received a very curious letter from a Defi n- 
 ier of Mii5. St. I.tccER, convicting us of a mistake res- 
 pecting her performance of Fhranthe in the Mountain- 
 eers and making some other obstrvationi on our criticism 
 upon that lady. Wo take the fii-st opportunity of 
 a< knowledging our error. Our readers will recollect 
 that we accused Mrs. St. Ledger of inanimation and 
 want of feeling in the scene where Octnvian faints at the 
 sight of his mistress The Defender of Mrs. St. Ledcee 
 jives the following singular but conclusive i«ason for tbi« 
 
AI'PENDIX. 59 
 
 apparent fault in her performance : " It is well known 
 in the theatre, that during: the whole of that scene, Mrs. 
 St. Ledger is acting in direct opposition to her common 
 sense, that she is not permitted to stir or breathe but by 
 Mr. Kemble's direction, that she is expressly forbid to go 
 near him when he falls, to assist him when he rises, to 
 kneel to him, or embrace him ; in short she is obliged to 
 appear an automaton." It is supposed, that "she would 
 disconcert or put trammels on Octminn, and by that the 
 audience would lose in one moment from Mr. Kemble 
 more than would have been repaid in the whole life of 
 Mrs. St. Ledger." 
 
 We never before heard such an absurd instance of Mr. 
 Kfmbi.e's disregard of theatrical pi'opriety, or such a 
 disgusting one of his vanity : he had better send all the 
 actors about him from the stage, in scenes of this kind, 
 that lie may have room to astonish the audience at his 
 h isure. His conduct reminds us of an ancient fable, in 
 V iiicii the Cireat Bear wished to put out all the other eon- 
 stf ilaiions in order to shine by itself. It is to be hoped that 
 the public will no more receive with their usual indul- 
 jrcnce so flagrant a violation of nature and propriety. 
 Actors are for the audience, not the audience for the 
 actors ; and Mr. Kemble should pay alittle less deference 
 to liisown conceit, and a little more to their judgment. 
 
 Pago lS(i, — [Ifi xoJdch he has been so iiijudici- 
 ousli/ huitatcil.] E.xtract from the News. 
 
 But with the powers of Mr. Rae in Octa-iun we were 
 most agi-eeably surprised. His voice is not remarkable 
 
•40 APPENDIX. 
 
 cither for it's strcnsth or it's variety, but the expressiojk 
 of his countenance possesses botii, and where there is such 
 expression there is always genius : this is invariably 
 the criterion of a good actor, for to look for passions on a 
 face always the same, like that of Mr. Pope for instance, 
 is to look for meaning in a mahogany table. The repre- 
 sentation of Oclavian rtquires the most varied powers of 
 countenance ; for in the transitions from reason tu mad- 
 ness, from absorbing melancholy to sudden ami unac- 
 countable t-aietj', tht'K; shoitld be no appearance of 
 artifice or study : in the very midst of thought there 
 should be an appearance of want of thought ; there should 
 be sudden change without a consciousness of change ; and 
 in short, while the actor has a reason for every action, he 
 sJiould appear to have no reason at all. Mr. R.ae 
 managed the sudden transitions v.ith a 'aoid alteratioa 
 of countenance, and with looks full of meaning, but he 
 should not have accomp-iiieJ them so perpetually with 
 a stamp of the foot , the violent actions of insanity fill iis 
 with terror, but it is the silent st-ul of it's countenance, 
 unaccompanied v.ith the act on of the limbs, that fills us 
 with awe. His'principle failure was in the change from w ild 
 gaiety or inditlerence to tearful melanciioly ; this change 
 was always too sudden and always accompai.ied with 
 sobbing, a fault which .Mr. Rae, amidst some beauties, 
 lias copied from Eiliston. The transition of insanity 
 from gaietj- to melancholy is not so sudden cs the con- 
 trary change, because a sudden gaiety is a sort of despe- 
 rate remedy for affliction; but the melancholy that 
 follows is the effect of a false joy that graduully exhausts- 
 itsdt' wi;h it's own vehemence. If the gritf however be 
 sudden, it should not be insiantly accjmpanied with sob- 
 bing; sobs are the effect of long and collected giief, of 
 
APPENDIX. 41 
 
 sorrow yielding gradually to it's own thoughts ; this may 
 be observed even in children, who never sob till they have 
 been repeatedly rebuked, or till they consider the case 
 as desperate and unalterable. Mr. Rae throuj^hout the 
 drama did not sufficiently study these gradual transitions. 
 of emotion: in the recognition of his old friend Rocjue, 
 he was too langruid for it's suddeness ; if it had been in- 
 stantaneous it sho'.dd have been more animated j but the 
 recognition ought to have been gradual. We may always 
 judge of the merits of a tragedian by observing whether 
 he understands this gradual developement of the pas- 
 sions : any man can bellow with rage, can grin with joy, 
 or cry with sorrow; but in the almost imperceptible 
 gradations from one passion to another, in their irresolu- 
 tion, in their hesitation to alter or. to unite, a knowledge 
 of the human mind is necessary : an actor who is always 
 vehement endeavours to escape the minute observation 
 of the audience by astonishing them out of their facul- 
 ties; he is like a bad player on the piano, who hides his 
 ignorance of the delicacies of the art by thumping and 
 slurring over the keys with an affected spirit, while a 
 good musician varies our feelings with all the variety of 
 sound, rises to the grand indeed with vigour, but drops 
 to the melancholy through a gradual maze of semitones. 
 
 We believe Mr. Rae to have the genius of a trage- 
 dian ; he wants study only. The first effort of this study,, 
 and indeed the first step towards the attainment of beau- 
 ties, is to avoid gross defects, and we are happy to see 
 that a young actor, who like all yuung actors is natural- 
 ly given to imitation, has had the good sense and the 
 courage to talk English in spite of Mn. Kemble's vaga- 
 ries in pronunciation ; Mr. Rae knows that there is no 
 Kule for pronunciation but custom, be knows that thy is 
 
42 APPKXDIX. 
 
 never called the, ttiat none but nurses and mnid-servant« 
 talk of their varltie, and that a man's heard is by no means 
 a hird : if Mr. Kemble were to walk into a Iwrber'ssliop 
 and say witli his usual stiff gravity, " How is Mf leisure, 
 friend? Can'st manage to ditss my hinl? " Mr. Rae 
 knows as well as ourselves, that the barber would reply 
 Mith a stare, " Sir, this is not a cookshop but a bar- 
 ber's,'' — and that he would shake his head, when the 
 grave actor had walked away, and exclaim with a si3;h, 
 " Poor frentleman ! He is not ri2;ht in his head." — 
 M'heiievcr we think of these nseliss and absurd innova- 
 tions ill pronunciation, we cnnnot suflicieiitly exprcsi 
 our astonishment that they should liave become so tom- 
 inon to t he stage ; the whole race of actors, not exccpt- 
 ina: Elliston himself, who we trusted would have as- 
 pired at the original praise of rescuing the good sense of 
 the stage, liave in tliis respect become servile imitators 
 of Mr. Kemsle. What their motive can be, we cannot 
 imagine ; the courtiers of .Ai.cxander had some reason in 
 ])retending to have a humpback like their king, for it was 
 to their interest; but to imitate Mr. Kemble in his 
 abuse of words cannot advance the interest of men who 
 come forward to the public as models of speaking. If 
 i\lR. Kemei.e chutes to convert his ieard into an animal, 
 let him, in tlie name of all that [■• unaccounfal;le, keen to 
 his fancy ; wc have hoard of a vapourish benu, who 
 thought his nose cor.sisted of a yard and a half of plass, 
 but that is no reason why we should kep at a distance 
 from oui' frit nils for fear our own noses shi.idd be broken ; 
 ■we stionld not bejustificd in calling the human race beasts, 
 or to make any sticli alterations of the names of things, 
 even though we have the authority of the renowned 
 Laku, king of Siaui, who being auakcncd from sleep 
 
APPENDIX. 4S 
 
 and saved from assassination by the braying of an ass, 
 commanded in the ardour of his gratitude that all man- 
 kind should be called asses; the story tells us, that 
 whenever an ambassador from China came to the Sia- 
 mese court, the 0!r/a Vans;, or Master of the Ceremonies, 
 exclaimed, " Most potent Lakc, absolute Lord of the 
 Universe, King of the White Elephants, and Keeper of 
 the Sacred Tooth ! a great jackass from China has come 
 to speak with your Majesty !" 
 
 As 1\1r. Kae however understands so well the wretched 
 absurdity of this defect, we trust that it will be a les- 
 si)n to him to imitate no actor whatever in any way, 
 since he sees that even the best actors can be defective in 
 their verj' pronunciation. Let him be neither Kemble, 
 nor Ei.LisTON, nor any other tragedian j let him be 
 nature, and he will be ever}' thing. 
 
 On Thursday week the farce of the Spanish B'lyher in- 
 troJuced this gentleman to us in a comic character ; but 
 if iiis success in Octaviaii had induced us to hope that the 
 Haymarket Theatre would not feel much longer the loss 
 of Er.MSTON in Tragedy, we are still afraid that it will, 
 be much lamented in Comedy: Mr. Rae, who in his 
 tragic character was animated and elesjant, became in 
 the intriguing Count Alma-ji-ca as inanimate and ineFe 
 gant ; he expresses with much force the despair of tragic 
 love, but he cannot trifle, he cannot become the lively 
 inamorato, who tricks an old guardian to his face and 
 makes love to a lady by signs and mysteries. lie had all 
 the air of an actor who does not feel himself qualified for 
 his part: he was confused and irresolute, and did' not 
 know what to do with himself when he was not speaking : 
 he understood indeed the attitude that expresses an in- 
 terest ia the person addressing him, he beat forward uitfe 
 
44 APPENDIX. 
 
 a half smile and a mouth gently open, but the action was 
 so constiaiiied that he was evidently thinking not of 
 what the pci-son might say, but of what lie himself should 
 say when hii turn came. In shoit, he did not perform 
 the character as if he felt it. If this defect did not add 
 to Mr. Rae's humour, perliaps it did to the excellent 
 acting of Mathews in the Guardian; for everybody 
 must liave laughed at an old man so stupid as not to dis- 
 cover the Cuunfa disguises: insteaci of expressing his 
 fear of detection by an OTasional side glance of suspicion^ 
 Mr. Rae sh.ftcd his attitude and bit his lips like one com- 
 pletely disturbed and not like a ;.:allant of intrigue, bold 
 in the business and prepared for coii'-equeuces : w lien he 
 a/Tectcd a dry gravity too, he was tragically not comical- 
 ly gime; in pretending to coincide in the opinion of the 
 man he was cheating, his face assumed the seriousness of 
 real conviction, not that hypocritical austereness, so in- 
 imitably managed by EtLisroN, that double meaning of 
 expression which contrives to let the audience into the 
 secret, which has a lurking humour under it's very frown, 
 and in the midst of a tone of impoi-tance and an air of 
 candour gives the lie to it's own sincerity. We think 
 Mr. Kaf. incapable of comic feeling, and therefore he 
 will be always incapable of comic expression : at any 
 rate he «ill not remunerate the theatre for the loss of 
 Ellisto.v in characters of elegant humour. AVe hope 
 lie will study himself a little more in this respect: self- 
 knowledge is as useful to the actor, as it is to the philoso- 
 pher : it i-; seldom found indetd but in minds of the 
 higher order, but that is the very reason we e.xpect it ii^ 
 M&. Uae. 
 
APPENDIX. ,45 
 
 Pngc 190. — [Sir Harry TJ'ildair.] Extract 
 from the News. 
 
 DRUHY-LANE. 
 
 Tarqvhav.'s Comedy of the Constant Cvuplf, or A Trip 
 io the Jubilee, was revived on Wednesday night. The 
 character of this author's Muse is a lively sensuality, well 
 busied by plot, and well inspired with fanciful wit and 
 laughing satire. The lady is consequently not much given 
 to morality ; she talks rather too freelj', and is attired in 
 an undress, not the most modestly disposed ; but much of 
 the danger, which such habits might produce, is perhaps 
 done a«ay bj' her romping \ ivacity, which seems the 
 efi'ect rather of animal spirits and good nature than of a 
 regular inclination for vice. The Constant Couple is, per- 
 haps, the most immoral of any of his pieces ; for his hero, 
 whom he has endeavoured to adorn with pleasing qualities, 
 is an assemblage of all the vices of inconsiderate deba"ch- 
 ery, and makes them the subject of his vanity, and the 
 object of his ambition: but we question, whether bad ex- 
 amples have sent so much contagion from the Drama as 
 ha« been imagined : the pestilence is rather in the lobbies 
 than on the stage. Farquhar did not write with great 
 attention to dramatic rules, and there is tl.ereforc great 
 irregularity both in the action and the dialogue of his 
 jpieces^ fo; tliis deficiency however, he compensates, like 
 our great bard, by the true spirit of genius : we by no 
 means condemn niles in an attainment so generally arti- 
 ficial as dramatic writing ; but their observance is easily 
 
46 APPENDIX. 
 
 <li'!pen>eil with, when there is truth to instruct and fancy 
 and wit to deli<jht ns. There is one mistaken idea respect- 
 ing this Author, which it is wonderful could have been so 
 Ion? entertained, as notiiins seems easier of confutation. 
 It has been said that his chief excilicnce lay in painting 
 the lively finished jrentleman, and the character of Sir 
 Barnj Wihlair is cited as an example. The heroes of Far- 
 Qi'iiAR are undoubtedly sufficiently lively, but that any 
 one of them is a finished gentleman, this very character 
 of Sir Hurry Wildctir, who is the greatest man of them all, 
 entirely disproves. Pope has exclaimed. 
 
 What pert low dialogue has Faiqular writ ! 
 
 and it is ti-ue ; for he cannot refrain from vulgarity evei* 
 in his most accomplished chavacters. A finished gentle- 
 man never indulges in boisterous mirth, in low language 
 or in vulgar amours: .S'/> If arry does all tliis and more, 
 and the best part of his character is that his good temper 
 is never to be ruffled. His jovial gaiety and knowledge of 
 the town make him admired as a man of wit and fashion, 
 but how many men of wit and fashion are there who cau- 
 not Ixiast the characters of finished gentlemen ? We can- 
 not iu)a!;inethat it was the author's intention to represent 
 such a rare character : he wished rather to amuse than to 
 instruct his audience, and had Sir Harry Wihluir been a 
 i'omplete gentleman. In; would have won more of our 
 esteem, but not half so nnich of our merriment. 
 
 Ei.i.isTON did not catch the niriosafclicilas of the Baro- 
 net's character, and nevi r before exhibite<l a vivacity so 
 ^•onstniined ; Sir Harry appeared like a man l.nxjghins 
 with the tooth-ache; he seemed to do every thing to 
 please every body else, and nothing to j)lcase himstli". 
 This was cming perhaps to Mr. Elliston's labour at the 
 
APPENDIX. 47 
 
 finished gentleman; if so, he has j'et to learn what we 
 ha\-e before advanced, that Sir Harry Wildair and the 
 finished gentleman have very little to do with each other. 
 We are of opinion tliat he will perform the part much 
 better, if he will give greater loose to his vivacity, and 
 not be appalled witli those finical critics, who like Lord 
 Chesterfield are continually bawling in his ear, Ihe Gen- 
 ileman ! the Graces ! tite Graces ! 
 
 Further Extract from the News. 
 
 Mr. Elliston repeated his Sir Harry Wildair on Tues- 
 day night, and with an ease and vivacity which proved 
 his failure on the first representation to have been merely 
 the result of too anxious an exertion. His spirit was now 
 the genuine spirit of the author, vigorous in all places 
 nnd at all times, and he may reckon the acquisition of the 
 jovial Baronet as no small addition to the circle of his 
 tlieatrical constituents. 
 
43 
 
 AN ESSAY 
 
 ON THE 
 
 APPEARANCE, CAUSES, AND CONSEQUENCES 
 
 OF THE 
 
 DECLINE OF BRITISH COMEDY. 
 (From the News.) 
 
 •SECT. 1st. — ON THE APPEAHANCK OF THIS DICLINt. 
 
 TiiE chief object of the following criticism is to expose 
 in a mass the errors of the present Comic Drama, to shew 
 that they are as obnoxious to serious argument as to ridi- 
 cule, and to convince those Readers, who have iiot im- 
 mediately witnessed the faultsof our dramatists, and mi'.;ht 
 therefore be amazed at the perpetual ptal which this Paper 
 rings upon their names, that a love of our country's litera- 
 ture and honour is a sufficient reason for the exposure of 
 f^ueh writers. The vanity of these writers, who i^annot 
 •imaijiiie that any crilir should imceasingly object to their 
 manoeuvres without j)ersonal hostility, has rendered it 
 meessary on our part to disclaim such a feeling entirely, 
 and we repeat, that we know nothing of these men but 
 their dramatic attempts : we hope and believe that they 
 are good private characters ; but they are doing all they 
 •can to ruin the British Drama, and they must be treated 
 as the public violators of literature. It must be under- 
 stood at the same time, that when we speak of them 
 as the distinct race of modern dramafists, we confoun<l 
 •with them neither Sheridan nor Cl'mbi;rland ; the former 
 
APPENDIX. 49 
 
 of these Gentlemen, who is one of the first wits that thig 
 Or any age has produced, belongs to former times, for he 
 has long ceased to write : tlie latter has for some time 
 been in the dotage of literature, has been as fond of 
 writing as other old men are of talking, and has writtea 
 to as little purpose : we will not judge of the colour of his- 
 head when it is become grey. 
 
 Even the pi'esent dramatists however might be endured, 
 if they would confine themselves to the praise of that 
 farce, with which thty have so besotted the stage, if they 
 would be content to follow better writers with little pieces 
 of avowed caricature ; they might occupy indeed the 
 chief honours of Sadler's \A'elIs or the Circus, without a 
 single wish on our part to interrupt their exclusive posses- 
 sion. But wlien they usurp the rank of comedj', when 
 they seat themselves in the chairs of those great comic 
 writers, who have won the palm from Spain and from. 
 Italy to divide it with France, we are filled with indigna- 
 tion and contempt. A royal jester is a very liarmkss and 
 a very merry sort of personage, but when the King's 
 jester iJaces himself on his master's throne, it is time for 
 the courtiers to look to tlie royal .dignity. 
 
 It is the oijservation of all Europe that the British, 
 drama is rapidly declining. Of tragedy indeed we have 
 nothing: but tliis subject will be considered hereafter. 
 Every foreigner who visits England, corifirins the amaze- 
 ment and contempt of preceeding travellers; the Spani- 
 ard wonders that we can exclaim against the hasty 
 farces of his favourite Lope, and tiie German finds a rival 
 of the melancholy absurdities of his own stage in the 
 merry monstrosities of ours. So manifest indeed are the 
 Successive tricks of the dramatists and their utter want of 
 every thing solid, tliat a person new to theatrical enter- 
 t^iiHUCuts has nothing to do but to guard himself, aa he 
 D d 
 
50 APPENDIX; 
 
 would in a juirslcr's room, airninst any thin? that Tnis;ht 
 cheat him into applause, and it is in vain, when he leaves 
 the theatre, that he would recollect one sin,?Ie witticism 
 or loiiical sentence that is worth remembrance, one re- 
 mark on men and manners that could so meet the acknow- 
 ledgment of the closet as to pass into a maxim, as hundreds 
 have done in our old comic writers, as thousands in 
 
 SllAKSPEARE. 
 
 A comic writer of the present day may he immediately 
 ♦listineniished by his dislike of all those difficnltits, which 
 oppose a writer ambitious of imitating the best models : 
 th(; whole object of his pen seems to be the attainment of 
 applause in the easiest manner possible, and he according- 
 ly writes for the galleries, or in other words, for that part 
 of the audience, «hich is the least capable of judsiing but 
 the noisiest in declaring it's jud.rmeiit. He appeals there- 
 fore to the eye and to the ear, because they are the 
 soonest pleased wit h the least reason : a new piece of 
 scenery or an uncouth dress conquers the visual faculties 
 of the spectators, and a vollev of puns is the si'jnal for 
 the author's triumph. This artifice of punning, which 
 has 1)1 come a perfect system with the dramatists, is the 
 method by which the author rids himself of the difficulty 
 of n it, as l-.is flowery language, when he becomes what is 
 called sentimental, is his device to forego the necessity of 
 thinkinsr. By these means language becomes separated 
 from i leas, since mere punning is nothing but an unex- 
 pected assimilation of seurids and mere floweriness, like 
 a harlequin jacket, is nothing but a surprising combination 
 of colours. The incidents and cliaracters of his pieces 
 *1\\ avs asree in one alternative, they are either of very 
 manifest common jilaee, orthey are clad in the iiiostmon- 
 jtmns disprui-es to -^ain the a|ii>earance of novelty ; they 
 rsHiiud us of the tricks practiced, according to a modeta 
 
APPENDIX. 51 
 
 traveller, at some of our countrj'^ fairs, where a vulgar 
 woman has been dressed in catskins and a tmnultuous peri- 
 wig, and exhibited as a wild Indian, not to mention a shaved 
 bear, who in a check shirt and trowsers gained a great deal 
 of applause as an Ethiopian savage. If he exhibits a cha- 
 racter that has been too often bandied to stand inquiry, he 
 gives a new tone to it's appearanc e by some prominent pe- 
 culiarity of marmer, which, however ill-adapted it may be, 
 immediately catches the attention by the mere force of 
 oddity, and deprecates your censure for the sake of the 
 laughter it creates. This peculiarity generally consists in 
 some hacknied phrase or cant maxim, which is used upon 
 all occasions, seasonable and unseasonable, and is very 
 often as suitable to the mouth of the speaker as a tobacco- 
 pipe would be in the lips of the Venus de Medicis. 
 
 The author however is not content to do every thing 
 for the sake of pleasinsc the more easy part of the au- 
 dience, but in order that thej' may be more interested in 
 his behalf, he tells them, in the most abject terms, how 
 entirely he is their most humble servant : he literally 
 begs tliem to be blind to his errors ; that is, to care more 
 about his nonsense than the literary reputation of their 
 countiy ; and for this purpose, two petitions, in the shape 
 of Prologue and Epilogue, are generally piesented to the 
 audience, the one to bespeak their kindness, and tlie other 
 %o secure it. In the interval however of these petitions, the 
 house is assailed by the masterpiece of these seductive 
 play" rights, in a profusion of encomiums on the spirit, 
 the loyaltjs and the invincibility of the British nation: 
 it is never considered, that every body could roar out 
 these encomiums with an ardour quite as literary, and 
 that every I. ody may feel a patriotic pride in h's coun- 
 try, without swelling wih self-importance at the flalleiy 
 •fa cunning author : if the author can get applause, li« 
 o d 2 
 
^9 APPENDIX. 
 
 does not rare whether the applause be consistent cUher 
 Ti ith his pretensions or our dignity : he gives praise for 
 praise ; and wliile he is exalting our invincible wisdom, 
 is considering into what sort of a clap he shall conquer 
 us. 
 
 The art of a modern Dramatist then consist* in a 
 93ries of deceptions on his audience j and he manages, 
 like a tnie juarsiler, to make the audience assist in the very 
 tricks w ith which he contrivi s to astonish Ihem. The least 
 use of coiunion perception, however, will alu'aj's distin- 
 guish his artifice, and he will be detected either iu tlie 
 partial, or more often in the indiscriminate, exercise of 
 the following errors, which in fact compose tlie whole of a 
 modern comic writer's genius: — 
 
 An inveterate love of punning ; 
 
 A deformed alteration of common cliaractcre and 
 incideirts ; 
 
 A dialogue either extremely flowery or extremily 
 familiar ; 
 
 An affectation of ardent loyalty, and, consequent t» 
 thh afl'ectation, a gross flattery of his audience ; 
 
 Lastl}-, as flattery and timid meanness generally ac- 
 tompany each other, a most abject system of begging 
 the favour of the house, particularly iu prologue aaid 
 epilogue. 
 
 SECTIOX ir. — ON THE CAUSES OP THIS DECLIKE. 
 
 We do not know which should afford better s\)bject for 
 Jistonishment, the origin or the toleraiion of this dramatic 
 corruption. The evil perhaps would be less endured, if 
 it's causes were detected ; for it is one of the inwmsisten- 
 «ics of human nature to reject error not so much for it's 
 •ffect as it's cause: wc do Jivfe always blush at actiu; 
 
ArPENDIt. S3 
 
 STTongly, but we blush most painfully when we find that 
 our reason for it has become ridicvilous, or unfashionable, 
 or perhaps out of date. Literature has it's modes like 
 dress, and all popular changes are apt to rush into 
 extremes : the beaux of Charles the Second's age 
 suddenly retreated into a forest of peruke, because the 
 Puritans had valued themselves upon their own lank 
 hair ; the English drama broke out into mere farce, be- 
 cause it began to despise the solemn foppery of sentimental 
 Comedy. But we have now no reason for extremes 
 either in the appearance or the productions of our heads ; 
 let us got rid of our dramatic perukes, and exhibit some- 
 thing like a natural pericranium. 
 
 The causes of the decline of comedy, or in other words, 
 of the present predominance of farce, are certainly not 
 to be attributed to the present writers. Litei ary delu- 
 sions never become lasting with a literary people, unless 
 they are supported by the authority of real genius. 
 There are always so many comparative models of writing, 
 that none but writers capable of giving good examples, caa 
 recommend bad ones. It was Lucan and Seneca, men in 
 other respects of true genius, that encouraged the Romans 
 into bombast, and not Nero and the poetasters of his 
 court, who were inspired with nothing else. It was Dos- 
 NE, and Cowley, writers of original wit, that recom- 
 mended the conceits of the Metaphysical Poets, and 
 not such grotesque pedants as Clfiveland and Flatman. 
 The modern farci-comic writers would never have beea 
 elevated into their present sway, had they depended 
 solely on themselves. Like the drunken tinker in th* 
 play, they must have been carried by more rational beings 
 than themselves upon that throne, which like him thej 
 disgrace by their vanity and buffoonery. Sheep have 
 beea found on the tops of oaks, but it is the sagle that 
 D d 3 
 
54 APPEMDIl. 
 
 has borne them tliitlicr. In short, we must attribute the 
 farcical decline of Endish cotntdyto the indigrnant haste 
 of Gor.DsMrrii in overthrowing sentimental comedy, and 
 to the farcical extreme in which he was followed and 
 •ven outrun by his inmiediate successors. 
 
 This species of writing, which from it's imitation of the 
 more chequered fortune> of life niicrht be rendered the 
 most natural picture of mankind, was indeed in a most 
 desponding way in Goldsmith's time j it begun with Kel- 
 lY and others to make those appalling faces, which mark 
 the unmeaning sorrows of infancy, and prepare us for • 
 tempest of weeping, and it advanced rapidly in misery 
 with Mr. Cumberland, who hassinee been so ably second- 
 ed by Mrs. Inchbald: it's full growth howe\er was re- 
 served for Mr. Mortox, who with an observation of life 
 worthy of better cultivation, has indulged in so furious a 
 mixture of the laughing and the weeping, that he has 
 thrown comedy into ahsolute hysterics. Such a style of 
 writing possessed in itself the means of it's destruction, 
 for the house was divided against itself. Goldsmith how- 
 ever saw nothing in the unnatural struggle but the deatii of 
 all comic humour, and out of pure pity he became extra- 
 Tagantly merry, just as the celebrated Dr. Radcliff e to 
 cure a patient of the qiiinsey endeavoured to make him 
 laugh by playing all sorts of unseasonable antics. The 
 farce succeeded, the extravagant though delightful vaga- 
 ries of She Utoojis to Conijuer, like the touch of the painter, 
 turned the w eeping face of the town into a laughing one ; 
 O'Keeffe, a man of much humour, afterwards kept up 
 the peal, till it became mere noise and grimace witli Mr. 
 Reynolds and his brother merrj'-andrews Messrs. DtBDi"* 
 and Cmerry. Inattention, or haste, or very possibly ex- 
 hausted powers, gave a strong support to these « riters 
 ill the pen of Ma, Colman, a man, who with the dramatic 
 
APPENDIX. 55 
 
 r*putation of his father to urge hiin to his proper goal, 
 the hopes of good writers to invite him, and a great fund 
 of natural nusnour to support him in his attempt, has de- 
 serted the cause of literature, and d jes not blush, not only 
 to join iii a lebauch of merriment which he must despise, 
 but lilce a true literary rake, to defend his companions by 
 the most miserable merry sophistry. This gentleman, in 
 a. prologue that does and does not deserve to be remem- 
 bered, sa\s, if we recollect rightly. 
 
 If we give trash, as some few pertlings say, 
 Why (locks aa audience nightly to our i)Uy ! 
 
 We answered him in a distich of our own : — 
 
 If tlR-re's no merit in six yards of hauncli, 
 
 Why flock the town to gaze on Laml)eu's iiaunch ; 
 
 But we are almost ashamed to refute an argument, which 
 is contradicted by every pantomime exhibition, by every 
 petty shew, nay, by every house of bad reputation in 
 town. 
 
 Such, we imagine, is the simple cause of the decline 
 of our comedy. The great eiiiting reason is the mere 
 want of critical opposition. If the newspapers were una- 
 nimous, they might overthrow tiie farci-comic writers 
 in a few months. As the body of the people is always 
 much too \ oid of reHeotion to a>k. itself why it is satisfi- 
 ed, the dramatic taste of the town is at the mercy of 
 anj' set of men that can control the majority of the pe- 
 riodical prints, and it is somewhat unlucky for good 
 letters, that the greatest number of these Editors are too 
 much occupied with politics to care, much less to know 
 anything about the drama. The playwrights either pro- 
 cure the favours of their careless critics by an eager ad- 
 vance of all their little powers of accommodation, or 
 
56 irPENDTX. 
 
 Monn. themselves into their gay hours of confidence-; 
 and what is more philanthropic than tlje maudlin sym- 
 j.athy of a second bottle ? By these means the newspaper 
 editors certainly become the time friends of the drama- 
 tists; fur while the latter trust their critics with all the 
 tricks and dependencies of theatric authorship, the former 
 keep them a profound secret from tiie town, and would 
 rather tell us any falsehoods than betray their trust. Till 
 the evil therefore outi^rows concealment, it is natural 
 cnougli that the majority of the town should be willins: to 
 believe the majority of it's critics. Critical opinion is like 
 madness: if it is confined to an individual, every body it 
 alarmed : if it inlluences a sect or a party, attention is 
 »cattered by it's generality. 
 
 SrXTlON III. — OK THE CONStQUEXCIS. 
 
 The pood disposition which men of little judgment 
 SQanifcst towards our present dramatists may in some 
 measure be attributed tu tiie harmlessness of their drama, 
 which can certainly ofletid nobody by it's satire: the ig- 
 norant and the vicious find themselves safe from chastise- 
 ment, and they will naturally assist those who ensure their 
 safety. But this very kind of harmlessness gives the last 
 iinisli to the stupijlity of the farci-couiic writers, and 
 produces a general efToct the total reverse of harmless-; 
 for in consequence of their inonstrous caricature and 
 it's perfect inapplicability to human manners, the end 
 of comedj', which should satirize the lighter \jces and 
 follies of mankind, is utterly destroyed. They paint 
 rakes indeed, and coxcombs, and cheats; but the charac- 
 ttrs lose so many of their proper charac-teristics in their 
 attempt to be facetious, that it seems 'heendca\our of 
 their l-ife to alTord amusement, an<l thus their natural ch»- 
 vacter is j.erpftually struggliu;; with their theatric one : 
 the r«kc is vicious uicrelv aj far as he thiuks be cart 
 
6e pleasant ; the coxcomb is taught to think more of 
 the galleries than of himself ; the cheat pursues his ini- 
 quities merely that they may be agreeable tricks ; the 
 selfish, in short, live wholly for others; and the author 
 thinks, not how he may improve his audience by painting 
 it's likeness, hut how he may flatter it by making it's fea- 
 tures beautiful, or amuse it by shewing how merrily he can 
 distort them. As nobody therefore finds his likeness on 
 the stag-e, nobody is improved by it ; virtue is not encou- 
 raged by the representation of it's ur}presuming counte- 
 jiAiice, nor is vice alarmed at the deformity of it's passion- 
 tortured features: the scene is so far drawn forward, as 
 it were, into the part appropriated to the audience, or in 
 other words it is so evidently the intention of the author, 
 and consequently of his actors, to stand before the spec- 
 tator as mere candidates for applause, tiiat the stage be- 
 comes literally abstracted from it's abstraction, it's profess- 
 ed absence from an overlooked multitude is forgotten, 
 and this is the reason why the actors so perpetually enter 
 the scene with their hats off in the open aii" ; they forget 
 the fields and the forests, they imagine themselves entering 
 a room full of company, and they are as full of respec* 
 as a showman, who comes into a parlour on a winter's 
 evening to amase the children with his grotesque shadows* 
 The theatres therefore sliould take down those inscrip- 
 tions over their stage, which invite us to contemplate the 
 representation of ourselves, since that magnificent, that 
 polished mirror, which reflected all our features with so 
 animated a resemblance, which obeyed the momentary 
 varieties of our attitude and glanced forth the nicest move- 
 ments of our countenance, has been exchanged for a 
 glass full of excrescences and undulations, in which the 
 human figure becomes a mere laughable monstrosity, ^ 
 thing of grimace and distortion, a shadow that mocks 
 the spectator with fantastic usUncis, 
 
58 APPENDIX. 
 
 The vicious fashiuiiablc have been so happy in the se- 
 curity they enjoy during this sleep of satire, that they 
 !<iart with dismay at every little movement uf it's hand 
 indicative of waking, and the managers of Drury-lane 
 Theatre have still to explain, why a comedy, called the 
 Faro Table, which was reitorted to contain a line satire on 
 gaming, and to have been written l)y the late celebrated 
 Mr. Tobin, was suddenly withdrawn from tiie public 
 expectation, not only after it's announcement, but after 
 it's complete study by the actors. We have already 
 expressed our indignation at this incident, which 
 argues a control over the drama and a timidity in the 
 managers, not to be endured in a nation so free and com- 
 paratively so virtuous as ours. Such a circumstance dis- 
 plays at once all the ridiculous imbecility of our usual 
 comedies, which are suffered to exist merely because vice 
 itself can laugh at them without feeling unpleasantly. 
 
 It must be mentioned, at the same time, in praibe of 
 Drury-lane, that it has at least promised to become ra- 
 tional next season, and that it has never been so totally 
 occupied with farci-come.ly as Covent- garden : why the 
 grave manager Mr. Kembi.e, who with all his faults is a 
 man of judgment, and posse-' cs a (iisci'iminati\e relish of 
 our great writers, should surfer the everlasting antics of 
 the modern merry-andrews about him, is an enigma we 
 ne\ er could solve ; the idea of him under these circum- 
 stances is as ludicrously incongruous, as it would be to see 
 the statue of Wilmam Penn surrounded by earned danc- 
 ing dogs. 
 
 At any rate, let us always repeat to ourselves what Mr. 
 GiFFARD, a man of vigorous learning and the first satirist 
 of his time, has said of the present comic writers — ^^ AU 
 thf fools in the hinsidnm sfeni to tuiif risen up and exclaimed 
 teil.i one vtiice — Let us wRrr£ fok. thk tueatrbs,'' 
 
INDEX. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 A. 
 
 /lBednfoo in tlie .lew and the Dortov, Mr. Dowton's 130 
 
 Academic Tlieatres, tlteir ntHity doubted and theii- 
 pernicious effects proved 144 and 34 and 35 Ap. 
 
 Acres, Mr. Bannister's ----- ^Z 
 
 Actin?, the pain we feel at bad, the result of want 
 
 of harmony ------ 25 
 
 Actor, a tragic one to be e'stimatcd, not as he 
 always copies nature, but as he satisfies the ge- 
 neral ojiiiiion of manners - . - - 5 
 
 -' whether he sympathizes with the feelings he 
 
 represents ------- l(j 
 
 — — — a youns: one has verj' cjeneral ideas of pas- 
 sions, and conceives the stronsrer ones only - 3T 
 
 tlie audience more on a level witli a comic 
 
 tl'.an a trai^ic --..-- 57 
 
 •— — — the chief qualification of a comic, a quick 
 perception of variations from the general seri- 
 ousness of human nature - - - - 55 
 
 censured for coming before an audience v.ith 
 
 a manner exprcssi\e of beginning a task - 134 
 
 but two of our actors can disguise their 
 
 voices - - - 137 
 
 — — the idea of any one invariably presents him 
 
 iaiiuaie acc^utouicd altitude ... 12^, 
 
Pane 
 /ctor, abstrartion his fir-t study - - ] A\>, 
 
 ooiisequenres of his wan' of abstraction 2 Ap, 
 
 the s:iii)Ciii)iity of deceased actors questinned 190 
 
 Actresses, their male attii«ment reusured IGfiand 175 
 
 modesty recommended to them C09 and 32 Ap. 
 
 wAddison quoted .-_--. 56 
 
 Allspice, Miss Clementina, Mrs. Mattocks's - 154 
 
 Amateur, character of an old theatrical - - 191 
 
 Aranza, Duke, Mr. Klliston's - - 1"'2 and 198 
 
 Ariosto noticed ------ 50 
 
 Ashfield, Farmer, Mr. Emery's - - 107 
 
 B. 
 
 Bannister, Mr., the first lo»\- comedian on the sta^e 60 
 . — enaaires your attention by seeming to care 
 
 nothing about you ----- 60 
 
 heartiness, liis most prominent expression 61 
 
 his representation of ludicrous distress 62 
 
 his Acres - - - - - 62 
 
 his versatility ----- 63 
 
 his Col. Feiirnwcll . . - - d 
 
 his Youns; Philpot - - - 63 
 
 always natural exceptin the lively gentleman 69 
 
 his Mercutio - - • - - 69 
 
 niinirJesthe heart with his broadest humour 70 
 
 his humourous pathetic - - - 71 
 
 his .lob Thornberry - - - - 71 
 
 compared with Mr. Fawcett's 91 
 
 Iii^ \^'altel in the Children of the Wood 72 
 
 hi< Trappanti compared with Mr. Faw cett's 90 
 
 his Dr. Paniih)>;sconii)ared v\ ithMr.Fawcet's92 
 
 Barnwell, Heorsre. the improbable refnienient of this 
 
 city apjirentice necessary to tragic delight 109 
 
 Belvidera, Mrs. Henry Sidilons's - - 206 
 
 Miss Smith's . - ^ ojg 
 
 Blanchard Mr. his unassuming nature - - 122 
 
 • — his Marquis de Orand-chateau, - 123 
 
 — his perj)etual catch of the risilit arm 12j 
 
 Boilfuu noticcfl ---.-. ^g 
 
 Bufloonery, not the sure.t way of attaining public 
 SuvCtti - ' - .... 1^ 
 
ivrtrx. ill 
 
 Tyge 
 Buffoons, applauded so much, because it is customary 
 for tlie galleries to be the noisiest in their appro- 
 bation - - - - - - - " 122 
 
 c. 
 
 Caleb Quotem, Mr.Fawcett's - - 88 
 
 Caliban, it's hiinnair doubted from tlie persecution it 
 
 underpioes and the reveni^e it demonstrates 1U> 
 Mr. Emery's, classed in the humourous 
 
 pathetic - - - 110 
 
 exquisite picture of his tor- 
 
 ments - - 111 and j2 Ap. 
 
 Candour Mrs., Miss Pope's - - - 143 
 
 Caricature, ousiht to be conflned to farce botli by the 
 
 autlior and the actor - - - - 145 
 
 Cassio, Mr. Charles Kemble's - - _ - g'iT 
 Catch Him Who Can, Mr. Liston in - - - 99 
 Centlivre Mrs., noticed - - ... 64 
 Chambers, Miss, her School for Friends noticed 100 
 
 Charlotte in the Apprentice, Miss Mellon's - 159 
 Clap- trapping, tlie art of _ - - 0+ 
 
 Clara in Matrimony, IVlrs. Jordan's - - 18S 
 
 Comedy, to act in, and to be a comic actor, two 
 
 dirt'ereut thins:s - - _ - . -27 
 mediocrity in acting it, less easily attained 
 
 than mediocrity in traaredy _ . _ 45 
 
 needs not the elevation of tragedy - 143 
 
 British, an Essay on the Appearance, Causes, 
 
 and Con-eqiiences of it's Decline - - 48 Ap. 
 
 Comedian, caricature in, €>qual to bombast in tragedy 53 
 Comic powers, recognised even in their fan'ical per- 
 version, as in Mr. Aainden and !\Irs. Mattocks 150 
 Conce))tion, distinguished from imagination 30 
 
 Cooke, Ml., his genius confined to \ arious hypocrisy 216 
 
 his failure in Jacpies. Macbeth, and Hamlet 217 
 
 not a gieat tragedian - - - 217 
 
 his Ificliard the Third. - - - 217 
 
 question whether his hypocrisy ought to 
 
 bttray itself to the audience except in soliloquy 21 S 
 
 greati r in comedy than tragedy - 219 
 
 kis Stukely and Jago - - 217 and 3 bj 
 
lir TVOES, 
 
 Cooke, Mr., his Sir Arrliy 'Mac Sarcasm - 219 
 his Scotch (llak<t duly aiipreciatcfl 2'20 
 
 his dcfecis (if jjerson contribute to the effect 
 
 of his best characters - . - . 222 
 
 C.'urtland I.ady, Miss Pope's - - - J48 
 
 Cunilicrhind, Mr., iiis Jew criticised - - IT)! 
 
 his cijcomuim on Mr. Dnwton 132 
 
 Cui"voso, Count, in the CabiiK;t, Mr. Emeiy's - 30i 
 
 D. 
 
 Paw, Matthew, in the School for Friend*, Mr. 
 
 Mathews's - - . . 100 and H9 
 
 Dowtnn, Mr., fai's in low comedy, "ith the exct-plion 
 
 of King Arthur - . " - - - ICfi 
 
 . catclics feelings rather than habits J27 
 
 . iiis lamentable laihire in Dr. Pansrloss r27 
 
 . his superiority in an-.'cr subdued by tlie 
 
 patience or the pleasantry of it's object - I'll 
 
 his Capt. Cape and Sir Anthony Absolute 127 
 
 . excels in the mixed emotions of anger and 
 
 of tcndernos 128 
 
 Iiis fMd Dornton and .Abednego - liS 
 
 his Dornton cnnipared «itli Mr. Mrnden's 1C9 
 
 . Mr. Cumbcrh'iid's eiKomiumon him IJ'J 
 
 Duncan, Miss, placed under the In ad of Comedy for 
 the same reasons as Mrs. Jordan - - 1"9 
 
 her feeling less, and her declamation better, 
 
 than Mrs. .Ionian's _ . _ - 1";0 — 1 
 
 ■ her Florence in the Curfew - - ITO 
 
 . her great orijjinality, the fasliionablc ludy 171 
 
 her .luliana and l.ady Teazle - - 171 
 
 . her sinking compared w ith Mrs. .lordan's 17i 
 
 . her (iourisli of acting . . - . 173 
 
 i the general character of her acting termed 
 
 imj'osing - - - . - - 173 
 her Maria in the Citizen, and Miss Hardcastle 
 
 in She Stodps to Conquer - - 173 
 her vixen countenance and nagging voice in 
 
 the character of .\ell . - - . ]7S 
 
 her jierformance of characters in male attire 
 
 iiijuriwis to i)€r .... - 17« 
 
IKDEX. V 
 
 Page 
 Duncan, Miss, her exi^osition of her person in them 
 
 censured - - - - 178 
 her respectability ■ - - . 179 
 
 E. 
 
 Education and early habits, if sometimes beneficial, 
 
 often detrimental, to <in actor - - 104 
 
 El listen, Mr., his combination of tragic and comic 
 
 powers _..---. 180 
 
 this combination excites incredulity - 180 
 
 not so excellent in trajedy as in comedy 181 
 
 his want of heroic countenance - 182 
 
 his want of study ... - 182 
 
 his Hamlet 183 
 
 • his tragic genius naturally superior to Mr. 
 
 Kemble's ...... 184 
 
 — ■ his vivification of Sir Edward Mortimer IS-i 
 
 hisOctavian compared with Mr. Kemble's 185 
 
 his injudicious sobbing in that character 186 
 
 the best lover on the stage - - 187 
 
 his Frederick in Matrimony - - 18S 
 
 • his fashionable gallant - - 190 
 
 - his Sir Harry Wildair - 46 and 47 Ap. 
 
 • his unrivalled gentility - - - 192 
 
 • his little accomplishments - - 193 
 
 ■ his low humour - - - - 194 
 
 his preservation of the gentleman in low 
 
 humour ....... 194, 
 
 tliis of service to his Archer . 194 
 
 his three Singles in the Three and the Deuce 195 
 
 his humourous ridicule compared with Mr. 
 
 Charles Kemble's - - - - - 197 
 
 his hypocritical austereness - 44 Ap. 
 
 his Duke Ar.nnza . - 172 and 198 
 
 his greatest fault, monotony of voice - 199 
 
 considered as the greatest actor of the present 
 
 day 200 
 
 this claim contested with Mr. Kemble, Mr. 
 
 Cooke, and Mr. Pope ... -201 
 
 — — his versatility duly appreciated - 20.2 
 
 t e 
 
Elliston, Mr., if he performed in tragedy only, 
 would be tliought a better tragedian - 203 
 
 act. s tiM) often - . . . 203 
 
 Emery, Mr. , an actor of little variety - 105 
 
 his Count Curvoso in the Cabinet - 105 
 
 his deficiency i" the representation of age ' 
 
 asgreat as Mr. Liston's - - - 106 
 
 excels in the habit? of rustics, personal, moral, 
 
 and intellectual - - - 106 
 
 his nistics divided into the serious, comic. 
 
 and trasi-comic ; and illustrated by his Farmer 
 Ashfield, John Lump, and Tyke - - 106 
 
 a piteous or joyous contempt for others, one 
 
 of his best rustic expressions - - - 112 
 
 compared with Mr. Listen as a rustic 112 
 
 his Caliban _ _ - _ 32 Ap. 
 
 Emily in the School for Friends, Mrs. lleniy 
 
 Siddons's . . _ . '205 and 207 
 
 English Fleet, Mr. Munden in the - - 8.3 
 
 Estifania, Miss .Smith's - • 121+ 
 
 F. 
 
 Fainwrtud, in Uaisingthe Wind, Mr. Simmons's 95 
 
 Farquhar's Constant Couple criticised 45 Ap. 
 
 Faulconbridge, Mr. Charles Kemblc's - 2'24 
 
 Fawcott, Mr., his mere peculiarity takes the place 
 
 ofgenius _ _ . _ 57 
 — — — that peculiarity defined and exemplified 83 
 his Cakb Quotem - - 8S 
 
 ■ ' his comic singing - - 89 
 does notundci-take a single natural character, 
 
 in whicii he might not be excelled by his con- 
 tempoiiirie*! . - . gg 
 
 Lis failure in the gentleman illustrated in his 
 
 Bob Handy T . . gg 
 
 his Lord Oglchy - 90 and 27 Aj). 
 
 — his s.iilors amusing from tl'eir confidence only VO 
 
 ' ■ his Trappaitti compared with Mr. bannister's 90 
 
 ■ his Job Thornberry cosiipared with Mr. 
 Bannister's - . - 91 
 
 " ■ liis Dr. Pangloss comp.ired with Mr. E:in- 
 
 nister'4 - - - 92 
 
Page 
 Fawoett, TVTr., may be mimbered among the actors 
 
 whom modern writers have sjioiled - 93 
 
 Feelings, their representation more praiseworthy 
 
 than tliat of manners - - 70 
 
 Feignwell, Col , Mr. Bannister's - - 63 
 
 Five Miles Off, Mr. Liston's Quaker in - 99 
 
 Florence in the Curfew, Miss Duncan's - 1*70 
 
 Foreign, every thing that is so to English manners, 
 
 laughable - - - 115 
 
 Frederick in Matrimon}', Mr. Elliston's - 188 
 
 Garrick's and Colman's Clandestine Marriage criti- 
 cised . _ - i!4 Ap. 
 Gawky, Jacob, Mr. Liston's - - 101 
 Genius, Dr. Johnson's definition of it questioned 125 
 
 tiie question whether as great is required in 
 
 comic as in tragic acting, discussed - 48 
 
 a great tragedian a finer genius than a great 
 
 comedian, though not a moderate tragedian 
 than a moderate comedian - - 4S 
 
 •— imagination the test of - - 50 
 
 • the superiority of it in a tragedian, further 
 
 proved from his superiority of taste - bit 
 
 Gentleman, the, defined, and Mr. Lewis's claim to 
 
 that appellation as an actor questioned '76 
 
 Gentility, dearth of it in. our theatrical females ac- 
 counted for - . _ 156 and 159 
 George the Second, a tasteful theory of his 55 
 Grant, Miss, praised - - 191 
 Grecian Daughter, Mrs. Siddons's - - 25 
 
 H. 
 
 Hamlet, on the character of • - 40 
 
 jNIr. Henrj'^ Johnston's - - 40 
 
 Mr. Elliston's - . - 183 
 
 Handy, Bob, Mr. Fawcett's . - 89 
 
 Hardcastle, Miss, Miss Duncan's - - 1B3 
 
 « e 3 
 
Tin IKDEX, 
 
 Page 
 Haymarket Theatre, strange judgment in the mana- 
 ger of - - - 105 
 Hint Betty, Mrs. Mattocks's - - 154 
 Hoare, Prince, his Three and the Deuce critici- 
 sed ... 28 Ap. 
 Hogarth noticed - - 55 
 Hnnie, his sentiments on tragic delight - 108 
 Humourous })athetic, the, defined and exemplified iu 
 Mr. Bannister - - - - '71 
 
 T ago, Mr. Cooke's - - 217 and 219 
 
 Jew, observationson the stage-picture of a - 113 
 
 Mr. Cumberland's criticised - 131 
 
 Imagination, distingui^lied from conception - .50 
 
 the test of genius - - 51 
 
 Inchbald, Mrs., refuted - - 6 and 8 
 
 Incledon, Mr., his want of refinement noticed - lOi 
 .lohnston, Mr. Henry, has too much importance 36 
 
 ■ ill effects of his having been call- 
 ed the Scotch Roscius - - - S7 
 
 his boyish defects - 37 
 
 ■ wants study - - 40 
 
 his excellence in the Tale of 
 
 Mystery - . _ . 49 
 
 his Hamlot - - 41 
 
 Johnstone, Mr., no merit in his brogue - J 19 
 his pleasantry and repose on an au- 
 dience - - - 119 
 
 equally excellent in the blmidering 
 
 gentleman and the blundering servant - 119 
 
 his .Sir Callaghan O'Brallaghan ICO 
 
 his Looney M'Twolter - 120 
 
 by his national peculiarities hindered 
 
 fiom success in other characters than Irishmen 121 
 .loithii., Mrs., reasons for placing her uuder the head 
 
 of comedy - - . - 161 
 
 her Opheli.i ... 161 
 
 ■ her imniediate felicitj', openness ming- 
 
 Icil with vivacity • - - . l6S 
 
nfDEX. IX 
 
 Page 
 Jordan, Mrs., her performance of childhood forbid- 
 den by her matronly appearance - 163 
 
 — her lasting excellence in Rosalind and 
 
 the Country Girl - - - 164 
 
 her sood- humoured raillery described 164« 
 
 and illustrated in her Viulante in the 
 
 M'^onder and Clara in Matrimony - 1R6 
 
 her Clara in general - - - 188 
 
 her deficiency in gentility accounted 
 
 for - - - - 166 
 
 her frequent male attire a great cause 
 
 of this deficiency - - - 166-T 
 
 comjjared with Miss Duncan - 168 
 
 Irishmen, our laughter at them more good-humoured 
 
 than that at a Frenchman - - - US 
 
 Juliana, Miss Duncan's - - - 171 
 
 Juliet, Mrs. Heniy Siddons's - . - - 206 
 
 K. 
 
 Kemble, Mr., excels in the grand rather than the pa- 
 
 tiietic - - - - - 5 
 
 cannot express love _ - - . 6 
 
 his Zanga . - - - 1 
 
 his Penruddock - - - 8 
 
 — — ^— — excels in soliloquy - - 9 
 
 his bye-play - - - 10 
 
 — his attention to the minute praised and 
 
 censured - - - - 10 
 
 his great fault, a laborious preciseness 10 
 
 — the monotony of his voice - It 
 
 his vitiated orthoeijy censured and il- 
 
 lustrated by examples 12 and 14, and 3, 8, and 41 Ap, 
 that in Coriol.inus examined and illus- 
 
 trated - - - . 4 and 9 Ap. 
 
 Giossai-y of his Pronunciati ns 10 Ap. 
 
 an actor of correct rather than quick 
 
 conception - - - - 15 
 his Octavian compared with Mr. Ellis- 
 
 ton's - - - - - IS* 
 
 his Prospero - - 33 Ap. 
 
 instar.ce of his vani'v in disregarding 
 
 theatrical propriety in the Mountaiueers 38 Ap. 
 
 E e 3 
 
r INDEX. 
 
 Kemhle, Mr. Charles, his humourous ridicule com- 
 
 parctl u ith Mr. Elliston's - - . 107 
 
 — unequalled in theatric love Q'24 
 
 his Romeo - - . 224 
 
 compared with Mr. 
 
 Elliston's - - _ 181 
 
 illustrates his af- 
 
 fected weariness - . _ 224 
 
 his Laertes and Faulconbridge 224 
 
 his aff(,ctations - - 225 
 
 his Plastic and Frederick Bram- 
 ble - - - > ^IG 
 
 • liis feeling in drunkenness 226 
 
 Ills Charles Oakly and Cassio 227 
 
 > an useful actor, in the best sense 228 
 
 L. 
 
 Lewis, Mr., his vivacity in Rover contrasted with 
 that of ]NTr. Elliston - - - T.? 
 
 frankness, his orisiml excellence ~j 
 
 his title to the appellation of Gentleman 
 
 Lewis questioned - - - 15 
 
 - his habitual errors explained and account- 
 
 ed for - - - _ 77 
 
 his eccentricities in dress censured - 77 
 
 the most comjiUte fop on the stage 78 
 
 iiijuriousnoss of this excellence to his 
 
 (jentlonian - - - 79 
 Lewis, Mr. M. G., something: of - - 15 Ap. 
 Liston, Mr., natural in every sense of the word 93 
 • the igno'aiit rustic his happiest perfor- 
 mance, and the old man his most inaccurate - 98 
 
 Reneral rcpuso of his style . . 99 
 
 his performance in Catch Him Who Can 99 
 
 his Quaker in Five Miles Off - 99 
 
 his rawness of country simplicity 101 
 
 his country lad in the Three and the 
 
 Deuce - - . joi 
 
 his Jacob Gavky - - 101 
 
 — compared with Mr. Emery as a rustic 112 
 
INDEX. XI 
 
 Page 
 
 Love-i-la-Mode, the excellence of it's representation 
 
 before tlie secession of Mr. Johnstone from 
 
 Covent-garden Theatre - - 95 
 
 Lucy, in the School for Friends, Miss Mellon's 158 
 
 Lump, John, Mr. Emeiy's - - 111 
 
 M. 
 
 Macduff, Mr. Raymond's - - - .'50 
 
 M'Sycophant, Sir Pertinax, Mr. Cooke's - 219 
 
 Male attire, impropriety of it's assumption by women 45 
 Managers of our theatres, their partialities unaccounta- 
 ble - - - 211 
 
 these partialities exemplified 
 
 in the detention of Miss Smith from the public 213 
 their conduct in the produc- 
 
 tion of modern plays - - 12 Ap. 
 
 Maria, in the Citizen, Miss Duncan's - 173 
 
 Mathews, Mr., praised for avoiding buffooneries he 
 
 can affect - - - 133 
 
 —— officious valets and humourous old 
 
 men, his principal excellencies - - 154f 
 
 his natural chearfulness - 134 
 
 — ■ his principal fault a redundancy of 
 
 bodily motion _ . . 135 
 
 this fault a beauty in the Lying Valet, 
 
 &c. - - - 136 
 
 his powers of mimickry 136 
 
 his Don Manuel and Oki Philpot 138 
 
 his universal excellence in low 
 
 comedy ... 139 
 his nnaffertod seriousness in the 
 
 Quaker in the School for Friends - 140 
 
 this character again discussed 100 and 158 
 
 his conception of passions as well as 
 
 habits ... 140 
 
 his inimitable performance of Sir 
 
 Fretful Plagiary in tl)e Critic - 140 
 instance of his rivalling Mr. Ban- 
 nister ... 63 
 
Page 
 Slattock!!, Mrs, her romic powers very discoverable 
 even tlirouph lier farce - - 150 
 
 <-ompared with Miss Pope 151 
 
 tliis comparison illustrated by one 
 
 betueeu Smirke aiid ^^'ilkie, tbe comic painters 131 
 never dcsc^'nds to mere caricature 
 
 except her author compels her - 153 
 
 her Miss Clementina Allspice 15+ 
 
 her chief fault, obtrusire force l-i4 
 
 her Betty Hint - l.U 
 
 iier satisfactorv ei?sle - 1J5 
 
 her housekeejier in the Tale of 
 
 Mystery - - - l.'iJ 
 
 Meadows, Miss, her Ariel - - 32 Ap. 
 
 Mediocrity, a correct one, it's advantages over 
 
 extiara^rantliumour - - 122 
 
 Mellon, Misi, possesses nothing of the gentlewoman 
 but tlie frankness - - 157 
 
 her vulvar shortness of speech 157 
 
 her Volarite - 157 
 
 the case and artifice of her chamber- 
 maid or unpolished girl - - 153 
 
 — ■ her Lucy in the School for Friends 153 
 
 her Charlotte in the Apprentice 159 
 
 Mercufio, Mr. Bannister's - - 69 
 
 iMilton, and Siiakspeare, their comparative genius 202 
 Alonotony of voice, on - - 203 
 
 Mordecai, Beau, Mr. Simmons's - 95 
 
 Mortimer, Sir F.dward. Mr. Elliston's - 184 
 
 Munden, Mr., his gi imace rendered more grinning by 
 
 the farcical characters of modern dramatists 81 
 his representation of drunkenness 82 
 
 in the Euf-'lish Fleet - 83 
 
 has no .sim|)licity - 84' 
 
 his Polonius - - 8* 
 
 his Menenius - 84 
 
 loses half liis proper effect by the 
 
 \ery strength of his powers - 85 
 
 " ■ his picture of a quaker - 100 
 
 his Old Dornton compared with 
 
 Mr. Dowton's - - - 129 
 
 Murpljy, Lis Grecian Daughter criticised 12 Ap. 
 
Page 
 Murray, Mr., hU genius a correct mediocrit)' 42 
 
 excels ill the pathetic feebleness of old 
 
 a'^e _._-.- 42. 
 
 — his Manlj' - - 43 
 
 N. 
 
 Natural, an actor may be called so, as he accurately 
 represents eitiier nature, or deviations from nature 97 
 
 Nell, Miss Duncan's - - 175 
 
 News, the, it's severity towards modern dramatists 
 justified - - - 16 Ap. 
 
 Newspapers, their indiscriminate praise accounted for 2S 
 
 tiicir criticisms ridiculed 17 Ap. 
 
 Rules for the Theatrical Critic of a News- 
 paper - - - 18 Ap. 
 
 o. 
 
 Oakly, Charles, Mr. Charles Kemble's - 227 
 
 Octavian, Mr. Elliston's and Mr. Kemble's compared 184 
 Ogleby, Lord, Mr. Fawcett's - 90 and 27 Ap. 
 
 Orthoepy, the vicious, of the stage illustrated 3 Ap. 
 Othello, Mr. Pope's - - '25 
 
 Otway, his Eelvidera criticised - 206 and 213 
 
 P. 
 
 Pangloss, Dr., Mr. Fawcett's compared with Mr. 
 
 Bannister's - - - 9f 
 Penruddock, Mr. Kemble's - - 8 
 rhiipot, Youni, Mr. Bannister's - 68 
 Plagiary, Sir Fretful, Mr. Mathews's - 140 
 Poetry, it's production of polite manners, an argu- 
 ment for it's superiority over painting and music 55 
 Polonius, Mr. Mundeu's - - 84 
 Pope, Mr , has uot one requisite to an actor but bis 
 
 voice - - - 23 
 
 •^■^-^— why he gains applause - 23 
 
 ■ his skill in clap-trapi)irig - 23 
 
 his excellence as an artist hasuo effect upon 
 
 his powers as an actor - - 23 
 
 his two gestures and two looks - 24 
 
 ■ his Othello ... 25 
 
IJV IKDEX. 
 
 Pau* 
 Pope, Mr., liis TIot«r»ir - - 26 
 
 Pope, Miss, a proof tliat a comedian may please 
 
 without bufl'oonery - • 144 
 
 » ■ her education in Oarrick's juvenile thea- 
 
 tre no argument for the excellence of such 
 institutions - - 144 
 
 i» — Ciiurchill's opinion of her, not justified in 
 
 his comparison of her with Mrs. Clive - 146 
 
 " justified in it's general praise 147 
 
 ■ her srenins lastine, because her acting eisy 147 
 
 ■ her judicious en)phasis - - 148 
 
 - her Mrs. Candum' - - 148 
 -^— — ^ her drj' humour - - 143 
 
 her Lady Courtland - 148 
 
 her failure in farce - - 149 
 
 Powell, Mrs., her assumption of Hamlet censured 44 
 
 merely copies Mrs. Siddons - 46 
 
 Pronunciation, Essay on Invention in 7 A p. 
 
 Prospero, Mr. Kemble's - - 33 Ap. 
 
 Q. 
 
 Cuaker, Mr. Liston's picture of a - .99 
 
 ■ Mr. Mundcn's picture of a - 100 
 
 R. 
 
 Rae, Mr., his Octavian - .59 Ap. 
 
 — his correct pronunciation 41 Ap. 
 
 — his Count Alraaviva in the Spaiii<ii 
 
 Barber - - 4.3 Ap. 
 
 Faymond, Mr., wants the advantage of countenance 30 
 
 his Macduff - - 30 
 
 his literary air - 32 
 
 Ki.hard the Third, Mr.' Cooke's - 217 
 
 Ridicule, the liumourous, derives it's eflcct from 
 
 contrast - - - 197 
 
 Eoineo, Mr. C. Kemble's - - i?24 
 
 Rover, IVlr 1 ewis's and Mr. niiston's compared 76 
 
 Rusticity, net difficult of conception - lOl 
 
INDKX. ^ 
 
 S. 
 
 Page 
 St. Ledsjer, RTis, her bad performance of Floranthe 
 
 aoi'ouiitod for - - 38 A p. 
 
 Scotch dialect, on the imitation of the - 22ft 
 
 Shakspeare, his character of Menenius examined 84 
 
 comment on a passage in his Tempest 33 Ap. 
 
 and Milton, their comparative genius 202 
 
 Siddons, Mre., always natural - - 16 
 . said to be really agitated with the 
 
 characters she rti)resents - 18 
 
 her only defect is in the amatory 
 
 pathetic - - - 1^ 
 
 her Grecian Daucrhter 20 and 11 Ap. 
 
 copied by P-Irs. Powell - 46 
 
 Siddons, Mr. Henry, characterized as respectable 34 
 
 wants importance - 34 
 
 Siddons, Mrs. Henry, her genius entirely feminine 20i 
 
 love, her peculiar talent 205 
 
 . her Emily in the School for Friends 205 
 
 her Juliet . - - 206 
 
 i her Belvidera - - 20(J 
 
 fails in satire - - 21)7 
 
 . this failure illustrated in her Belvidera 
 
 and Emily - - ; ^07 
 
 her monotonous sweetness of voice 207 
 
 this monotony defensible however in love 203 
 
 her modesty - . . " . "^^ 
 
 her only affectation a languishing lift of 
 
 the eye - - - 210 
 
 Simmons, Mr., an unassuming and simple actor 94» 
 
 . his Beau Mordecai - 95 
 
 represents little else than feeble intellect 95 
 
 his happiest expression silly importance 95 
 
 his Fainwoud in Raising the Wind 95 
 
 Singles, in the Three and the Deuc^, Mr. Elliston's 195 
 Smith, Miss, her detention from the public QU 
 her genius for lofty tragedy and low 
 
 comedy - - - 213 
 her failure in Lady Tovvnly and Rosa- 
 
 iiad ... 218 
 
»T1 IKDEX. 
 
 Pnsre 
 Smith, Miss, Jier coldness in love » 21.3 
 
 her Ikhidera - - Sl^ 
 
 her Estifania - 21-i 
 
 Stase, while it improves our manners debases it's own 168 
 
 it's dres-^es criticised - 22Ap. 
 
 Stukcly, Mr. Cooke's - - 219 
 
 T. 
 
 Tale of Mystery, Mr. Henry Johnston in 40 
 
 Mrs. Mattocks in - J 55 
 
 'Cassoni quoted _ - - 46 
 
 criticised - - - 21 Ap. 
 
 'i'eazle. Lady, Miss Duncan's - - l"! 
 Tempest, it's revival by Mr. Kemble criticised 30 Ap. 
 Thornberry, Job, Mr. Bannister's - ''1 
 ■ _ compared with 
 
 Mr. Fawcett's - - - 91 
 
 Tragedy, perfect, not as it copies real mannei-s, hut 
 
 as it accords with our ideas of human character 1 
 
 always a step above nature l-t^ 
 
 — — mediocrity in acting it, more easily attained 
 
 than mediocrity in comedy - 4$ 
 
 Tragi- comedy, the alternation of tragic and comic 
 
 distinguished from that disagreement of language 
 
 and speaker which renders seriousness ludicrous 110 
 Tragic delight, reiinement as much a requisite to, as 
 
 terror and pity _ . - 108 
 
 — this requisite illustrated in George 
 
 Barnwell - - - 109 
 
 — — characters, distinction between such as are 
 inteinally so, and such as are only externally 
 
 so - - - - Id'iandlTO 
 
 Trappanti, Mr. Fawcett's and Mr. Bannister's com- 
 
 ))arcd . - _ 90 
 
 Tyke, Mr. Emerj''s - - 107 
 
 V. 
 
 Versatility of genius, excites incredulity - 180 
 
 ifs powers weaken each other's effect 202 
 
 this illustrat'd in tlie reputations of 
 
 Shakspeare and Miltou - - 202 
 
 Volante, Miss Mellon's •• 157 
 
w. 
 
 Page 
 
 Walter, in the ChlUlreu in the Wood, Mr. Ban- 
 nister's . - - '72 
 Wewitzer, Mr., his characters amusing on the stage 
 only - - - H6 
 
 — his excellence in the German, the 
 
 Frenchman, and the Jew - 116 
 
 ■ — — his Canton - - 116 
 
 an imitator of habits only - 117 
 
 tails in every thing English - 1 17 
 
 Wit, it's universality contrasted withtlie partiality of 
 humour - - - 115 
 
 z. 
 
 2anga, Mr. Kemble's ... 7 
 
ERRATA. 
 
 TN THE ESSAYS. 
 
 Page 78, line 9, (or possible re^d possibly, 
 
 —— 127, — 8, from bottom, for imilable read inimitahle, 
 
 — — 151, — 9, (in tlie note) for perte- 
 
 cution read persecutors. 
 
 IN THE APPENDIX. 
 
 Page 16, line 1, for mortaliz^dnzd immortalized. 
 
PROSPECTUS 
 
 OP 
 
 THE EXAMINER, 
 
 A NEW SU3S^DAY PAPER,* 
 
 Upon Politics, Domestic Economy, and Theatricale» 
 Price l^d. 
 
 The promises of newspapers have become almost 
 as valuable as the promises of courtiers. Every 
 new journal grows vain upon it's modest preten- 
 sions; the Proprietors with much unintentional 
 simplicity are always flattering themselves on their 
 industry and genius; and it must be confessed, 
 that no politics can be more impartial, no criti- 
 cism more refined, and no general information 
 given with a more literary air, than what these 
 gentlemen intend. But all this is magnificent in it's 
 announcement only. The newspaper proves to 
 be like the generality of it's species, very mean in 
 it's subserviency to the follies of the day, very 
 miserably merry in it's puns and it's stories, ex- 
 tremely furious in politics, and quite as feeble in 
 criticism. You are invited to a literary conversa- 
 tion, and you find nothing but scandal and com- 
 mon-place. There is a flourish of trumpets, and 
 enter Tom Thumb. There is an earthquake, and 
 a worm is thrown up. 
 
 * The first number of this Paper appeared on the 3c1 
 January, 1808. 
 
n PROSPECTUS or the examiner. 
 
 The Reader anticipates us here. ** Ay," cries 
 he, " here is the old Prospectus cant : every thing 
 is wretched in comparison uith the Nexv Paper: 
 ve shall have the ancient Tint in a minute — But 
 the Proprietors of tfif Examiner scorn to come for- 
 ivard — and so forth." This is a vt-ry good obser- 
 vation, but a little inapplicable. The Proprietors, 
 who will be the Writers of the f:XAMINER, 
 cannot entirely deceive the town, for they are in 
 some degree already known to the Public. T/ie 
 Gentleman, who has hitherto conducted, and 
 is at present conducting the THEATRICAL 
 DEPARTMENT in thc^NEWS, will criticise the 
 Theatre in the Examiner; and as the Public 
 have allowed the possibility of IMPARTIALITY 
 in that department, we do not sec why the same 
 possibility may not be obtained in POLITICS. 
 
 The great error of politicians is that old fancy 
 of Solon, who insisted that itwas infamous for a 
 citizen to be of no party, and endeavoured by a law 
 to make the Athenians hypocrites. This conceit 
 not only destroys every idea of mediation between 
 rwo parties, but doesnot I'ven suppose that both may 
 be wrong. Yet all history may convince us, that 
 he, who resolutely professes himself attached to 
 any party, is in danger of yielding to every extreme 
 for the mere reputation of his opinion : he will 
 argue for the most manifest errors of this or that 
 statesman, because he has hitherto agreed with 
 liint — an obstinancy as stupid, as if a pedestrian 
 were to express his satisfaction with a tempest at 
 night, because he had enjoyed sunshine in the 
 morning. 
 
 'J'he big and little Endinns in CuUiicr have not 
 
PROSP£CrUS OF THE EXAMINER. IJl 
 
 yet taught us thf. folly of mere party; and one •of 
 the most ridiculous inconi>isloncics in the human 
 character is that enjoyment, which all ages have 
 expressed in satirical productions, without receiving 
 benefit from them : they drink the physic with a 
 bold and pleasant countenance, and in!?tantly pre- 
 pare to counteract it's etlect ; or rather, every man 
 thinks the physic excellent for every body but him- 
 self. — " Party," says Swift, " is the madness of 
 many for the gain of few." When Scaimenfado in 
 Voltaire arrived at Ispahan, he was asked 
 uhelher he was for black mutton or white mutton: 
 he replied, that it was equally indifferent to him, 
 provided it was tender, A wise man knows no 
 j)arty abstracted from it's utility, or existing, like a 
 shadow, menly from the opposition of some body. 
 Yet in the present day, we are all so erroneously 
 sociable, that every man, as well as every journal, 
 must belong to some class of politicians; he is 
 cither Pittite or Foxite, Windhamite, Wilberforcite, 
 or Burdetiite ; though at the same time two- thirds 
 of these disturbers of colf'ee-houses might W'ith as 
 much reason call themselves Hivitcsor Shunamites, 
 or perhaps Bedlamites. 
 
 A crowd is no place for steady observation. 
 The Examiner has escaped from the tln'ong and 
 bustle, but he will seat himself by the way-side and 
 contemplate the moving multitude as they wrangle 
 and wrestle along. He does not mean to be as noisy 
 as the objects of his contemplation, or to abuse, 
 them for a bustle which resistance merely increases, 
 or even to take any notice of those mischievous 
 wags who might kick the mud towards him as they 
 drive alon^j : but the more ratiyual part of tkc 
 r f 
 
IV mOSPECTCS OF THE IXAMIXER. 
 
 multitude will he obliged to him, when ho warn* 
 them of an approaching showiT, or invites them to 
 sit down with him and rest themselves, or advises 
 them to take care of their pockets. As to the lan- 
 guage and style in which his advice will be given, 
 it would be ridiculous to promise that which haste 
 or thehead-ach might hinder him from performing. 
 Perhaps it must still be left to statesmen to amuse 
 in politics. 
 
 With respect to the THEATRIC CRITICISM, 
 the Proprietors merely observe, that it will be in the 
 same spirit of opinion and manner with the present 
 theatrical observations in the NexLS. The Critic 
 trusts he has already proved in that paper, that he 
 has no respect for error however long established, or 
 for vanity however long endured. He will still ad- 
 mire Mr. Kemble when dignified, but by no means 
 Avhen pedantic ; he hopes still to be satisfied with 
 IMr. DiBDiN in a Christmas pantomime, but is a- 
 Iraid he shall differ with him as to his powers for 
 comedy. Yet the town may be assured, that if 
 cither Mr. DiBDiN or Mr. Reynolds should 
 suddenly become a man of wit, the Critic will be 
 as eager to announce the metamorphosis as if it 
 were the discovery of transmuting lead into gold. 
 Perhaps he may be considered vain in proclaiming 
 his qualifications for criticism, but he cannot help 
 betraying, how infinitely the dramatists of the day 
 have alnised him. He would not have mentioned 
 this, but the natural infirmity of an author, speak- 
 ing of himself, must bi'pardoned for once, especially 
 Avhen he does not dwell upon so flattering a subj(>ct. 
 
 Tlie little attention which newspapers pay to the 
 JflNE ARTS, is no little proof of a very inditierent 
 
PROSPECTUS OP THE EXAMINER. C 
 
 iaste, especially when we consider that this country- 
 possesses it's own school of painting ; that wc have 
 artists like West, who claim every merit so much 
 admired in the old mastirs e.\cei)t indeed that of 
 being in the grave ; and that a youth, named 
 "WiLKiE, has united Hogarth with the Dutcli 
 school by combining the most delicate character 
 with the most delicate precision of drawing. These 
 great geniuses make us the best compensation for 
 the loss of the drama by reviving Tragedy and Co- 
 medy on tiie canvas. Yet they arc scarcely ever no- 
 ticed except in those annual sketches of t!ic Exhibi- 
 tion, which a newspaper cannot help giving because 
 they constitute part of the fugitive news. Wc will 
 try therefore to do a little better. An artist will 
 conduct our department of the Fine Arts. If h© 
 does not promise for his taste, he promises for his 
 industry. He will be eager in announcing to the 
 public not only the promiscuous merits of exhibi- 
 tions, but those individual pictures which deserve 
 to engage the public attention singly, those happy 
 rarities, which like the Jf o/fc and La Hague of 
 West, and the Village Politicians, Blind Tiddler^ 
 and Sleuard rcceixing Rent, of Wilkie, almost 
 create aras in the history of painting. 
 
 As it requires but a moderate portion of good 
 sense to regulate the' DOMESTIC ECONOAIY 
 of a newspaper, the Proprietors might indulge them- 
 selves a little more perhaps in promising peculiar 
 care in this department. At any rate they will 
 never acquiesce in those gayer or gloomier tollies 
 of the world, whether of rakesor of priiJC-fighters,to 
 which the papers give their sanction with so cold- 
 Woodccl au indifference. They do not intend, lit* 
 
 £f2- 
 
tl PUOSPECTUS OF THE EXaVIKET?. 
 
 rhe Socicti/for the Suppression of Vice, to frighteit 
 away the innocent rnjoymonls of tlio poor bv dress- 
 ing llelif^ion in a beadle's laced lial and praying 
 heaven to hless the ways of informers ; but they will 
 never speak of adultery and seduction with levity, 
 nor afTect to value that man, however high his rank 
 or profuse of interest his connexion, who dares to 
 take advantage of his elevation in society to trample 
 with jrayer disdain on the social duties. As to those 
 selfish and vulgar cowards, whether jockics, who 
 v/ill run a horse to death, or cock-fighters, who sit 
 down to a table on which fowls are served up alive, 
 — as to those miserable ruffians, whether the orna- 
 iTients of a aaol or the disgraccrs of a noble house, 
 who thank Ciod for giving ihera strength by endea- 
 vouring to annihilate the strength of others, who, 
 like a Hottentot beauty, value themselves upon a 
 few bones, and call fighting for a few guineas Englisli 
 spirit, they are most probably out of the reach of 
 literary ridicule, which must be read before it is 
 felt: but we shall use our strongest endeavour to 
 hold up them and their admirers to the contempt of 
 others who might mistake their murderous business 
 for manliness. What ! Shall English noblemen 
 crowd the highways to admire the exploits of a few 
 thieves and butchers? Shall they rush from the 
 court and the senate to enrich a few sturdy vaga- 
 bonds with the labour of their virtuous peasantry, to 
 shout over a fallen brute, and to be astonished at that 
 sublime merit which is excelled by the leg of a 
 dray-horse ? What an amiable vivacity ! 
 
 We are almost afraid to say that NO AD\'CR- 
 TISEML.NTS WILL 15E ADMinED in the 
 Examiner, for this assertion generally means that' 
 
•PROSPECTUS OF THK EXAMINKll. vii 
 
 tney will ; but ihc public will be irKlined perhaps 
 to believe the Propriotors when they declare, that 
 though they intend to be enj^aged in the publication 
 ©f books, they will not advertise a single one of their 
 own works. Advertisements therefore will hardly 
 be inserted for any body else : they shall neither 
 come staring in the first page at the breakfast table 
 to deprive the reader of a whole page ofonfertain- 
 Tnent, nor shall they win their silent way into the 
 recesses of the paper under the mask of general 
 paragraph to filch even a few lines: the public shall 
 neither be tempted to listen to somebody in the 
 shape of a wit who turns out to be a lottery-keeper, 
 nor seduced to hear a magnificent oration which 
 finishes by retreating into a peruke or rolling off 
 into a blacking-ball. 
 
 If some weekly papers however have a pagtf 
 of Advertisements at the beginning, they have alsff 
 a page of ?.Iarkets at the end : they commence by 
 in'ibrming us of the retail of London, and conclude 
 by communicating the wholesale. This is a plea- 
 sant uniformity, especially in a paper containing all 
 the news of the week. But as there are fifteen 
 daily papers that presents us with advertisements six 
 days in the week, and as there is perhaps about one 
 person in a hundred, who is pleased to see two or 
 three columns occupied with the mutability of cattle 
 and the vicissitudes of leather, the Proprietors of the 
 ExAMiXER will have as little to do with bulls and 
 raw hides as with lottery-men and wig-makers. 
 
 Above all, the New Paper shall not be disgraced 
 by those abandoned hypocrites, whose greatest 
 .quackery is their denial of being quacks. Their 
 vile indecency shall not gloat through the mask of 
 
v5H rRosPECTVs op the examiner, 
 
 philanthropy, sickness shall not be flattered into 
 incurability, nor debauchery indulged to the last 
 gasp by the promiscsof instant restoration. If the 
 paper cannot be witty or profound, it shall at leasb 
 never be profligate. 
 
 The Examiner will be printed on the largest 
 |)aper wrapped into a ibrm perfectly novol to this 
 country and perfectly convenient both for reading 
 and binding. The types are newly cast in the foun- 
 dry of Messrs. Fry and Steele, and the presses 
 constructed by Mr. Matthews on the Stanhope 
 plan, which produces an increased power in their 
 jnechanism, and therefore a more equal cficct in 
 ihe clearness and decision of the print. 
 
 Orders for the supply nf this Paper are requested to be 
 lent to the Office of the Examiner, No. 1.5, Beaufort Build- 
 ings, Strand, Ln/idnn ; or, if .(riven to the News N'enders they 
 will be protieily attended to. — The Papers will alnays br 
 put into the liands of the Newsmen at a very early hour on, 
 ■Sunday Morning. 
 
 London : — Printed by Johv Hunt, No. 15, Beaufort 
 Buildings, Strand, nearly opposite Southamldon Streets 
 
 October, 1807. 
 
Preparing for PuhUcation, 
 
 SATIRES, 
 EPISTLES, AND LYRIC PIECES. 
 
 By LEIGH HUNT. 
 
 THE VARIOUS 
 
 POEMS OF HORACE, 
 
 That have been happily 
 
 TRANSLATED Oil IMITATED 
 
 BY OUR BEST POETS, 
 
 11 ith an attempt to supply the more translatable 
 of "what remain ; 
 
 ASH, 
 
 AN ESSAY 
 
 OX HIS GENIUS AXD WRITINGS. 
 
 By LEIGH HUNT. 
 
3 
 
J;-^^^v 
 
 
U.C. BERKELEY UBRARIE 
 
 0021103462 
 
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