536 



Monthly Theatrical Report. 



[Nov. 



suaded that either " Douglas" or Barba- 

 rossa" is worth seeing. The tragedies of 

 that day were of an order which nothing 

 but capital acting, novelty, and public pre- 

 judice, stirred up by the peculiar circum- 

 stances of the time, could render popular. 

 The adventitious charm is past, and no- 

 thing remains but the wonder how any 

 charm could have sustained the natural 

 heaviness of the material. The single 

 conclusion is, that no acting which we 

 can discover on the living stage, will sus- 

 tain exhausted mediocrity. We will say 

 more, that even Shakspeare sinks, by eter- 

 nal repetition ; and that every time that our 

 leading actors appear in his plays, draws 

 more largely on the patience of the public. 

 Who goes to see "Hamlet?" the finest 

 dramatic conception in the world. Empty 

 benches echo the magnificent eloquence of 

 Macbeth ; Richard calls " to horse," in the 

 presence of a pitfull of half-sleeping ap- 

 prentices j and Shylock breathes fiery pas- 

 sion, to the admiration of an audience of 

 orange women. Are we never to see a 

 great tragedy again ? Is comedy to be all 

 French, and all farce? Is melo-drame to 

 perplex us with doubt whether we are in 

 a theatre or in the Old Bailey? 



The performances at Drury Lane, have, 

 however, not wanted the advantage of 

 variety. A succession of comedies, fa- 

 vourites in their day, and with no demerit 

 greater than this, that their day is past 

 (nor a greater could they have), appear 

 nightly. Dowton, Jones, Miss Tree, Miss 

 Paton, Braham, and Liston, all excellent, 

 appear perpetually. And if a man could rise 

 from some sleep of a century, he would 

 be delighted by the succession. But, un- 

 fortunately, we have not been indulged 

 with that valuable receipt for novelty a 

 hundred times told play is as bad as a 

 twice told jest, and both are intolerable. 



The principal comedy has been " The 

 Cure for a Heartach," in which Liston 

 figured as the old tailor, and Jones as the 

 young. Nothing could be better than the 

 actors, as nothing could be worse than 

 the parts. Singular a portion of the cre- 

 ation, as tailors may make, two such 

 tailors never existed, and could never 

 have existed, but in the monster-breeding 

 brain of their author. Incongruity upon 

 incongruity, affected phrase, extravagant 

 sentimentality, and the dullest of all dull 

 humour, make up this patch-work of cha- 

 racter ; and the actor, if he were Garrick 

 and Shakspeare in one, must be broken 

 down under the merciless weight of this 

 thing of gaiety. 



The " Illustrious Stranger," a burlesque 

 founded on the French trifle, adapted by 

 Planche, " You must be Buried," has 

 been played a few nights on the strength 

 of Liston's popularity. It contains some 

 humourous situations. Listou's grotesque 



style makes the populace laugh, and the 

 piece lingers on. 



The " Hypocrite" has been played for 

 the ad vantage of Listen's Mawworm. No- 

 thing can be more perfect than his con- 

 ception of this repulsive and ridiculous 

 character. But the play is altogether un- 

 popular, and its unpopularity does credit 

 to the public taste. The ridicule that was 

 meant for French fanaticism, a hundred 

 years ago, might have been pleasantly 

 transferrd to English fanaticism fifty years 

 ago ; but the occasion has died away ; 

 fanaticism stalks no more among us. The 

 field preachers are a past generation, 

 they are married, have roofs over their 

 heads, fleece their congregations according 

 to law, wash their faces, and wear breeches 

 like the sinners of mankind. Whitfield 

 terrifies the sacred bench no more, and 

 Wesley, with his face of saintship, and 

 his little ambitious heart, the infallible of 

 free consciences, the pope of methodism, 

 runs his annual round no more preaching 

 and pence-collecting to the extremities of 

 the empire. We might as well laboriously 

 burlesque the Roundheads of 1648, or 

 write down Jack of Leyden. 



The moral of the " Hypocrite" is past, 

 but the offence remains. The language of 

 piety and purity is contaminated by the 

 lips by which it is uttered. We see a 

 gross attempt at seduction carried on be- 

 fore the audience, insults to maiden deli- 

 cacy and matronly virtue urged to an 

 offence, which almost makes the author 

 as culpable as the vice which he stigma- 

 tizes; and a lesson of corruption adminis- 

 tered under the mask of a defence of 

 principle. The play has another grand 

 defect, which fortunately prevents its evil 

 on any large scale. It is dull, nothing 

 can be more fatiguing than its gravity, 

 except its humour, and nothing more cal- 

 culated to repel the audience than its 

 grossness, except its attempts at ingenious 

 satire. 



The other performances, " She Stoops 

 to Conquer," " The Slave," " The Lord of 

 the Manor," &c., have introduced no no- 

 velty, except Jones's Young Marlow, and 

 Young Contrast, both excellent. The 

 embarrassment of Young Marlow, which 

 in other hands is generally a clumsy cari- 

 cature, is rendered probable by the actor's 

 dexterity. The idea is extravagant, and 

 ill managed by Goldsmith ; and the most 

 timid man that ever had eyes, would not 

 have used them as the hero is intended to 

 do in this comedy. But this fault rests on 

 a head that can bear it well. Jones's 

 dandy 'squire is capital : utter effeminacy, 

 feebleness of mind, and affectation of 

 manner, were never better delineated. 



Braham has appeared with his habitual 

 popularity ; and Miss Paton with a rather 

 enfeebled voice, but her taste aud talent 



