CORIOLANUS AT COVENT GARDEN.
SBAKSPEARE'S Coriolanus, as now represented at Covent Garden, is Without question the most perfect and impressive classic spectacle ever seen on the stage. It is a triumph of the art. The true uses and value of costume, scenery, and other uids of dramatic illusion, are demonstrated to the fullest extent in this instance. All that the taste of the most fastidious scholar can require to clothe the play with the external attributes of the early days of Rome—to make palpable the life and spirit of the antique world—is here accompliehed. An important element of its success is the circumstance of the leading in- cidents in this play being ca.pabl resentation without the usual
Imperfections of stage-maelune are no skiey or supernatural agencies, as in Lear, Matbrth; , where the utmost ingenuity of the machinist inevitabtr e ifilision is so disturbed by ludicrous imperfections, that, i of the efforts to captivate the eye, the necessities of scenic display are felt to he a drawback to the intel- lectual pleasure. In Coriolanus, as now performed, you lose sight not only of pit, boxes, and galleries, but of the boards and the lamps also : a succession of stirring pictures Of Roman scenery, life, and manners, are brought before the eye, with an accuracy of detail in the architec- ture and costume that might instruct the painter. We see a young people, just emerging from obscurity, upon whom the mantle of Greek elegance has scarcely fallen. Rome appears, not in its most high and palmy state, but when its colonnades and temples, emulating the Doric simplicity, rose from amongst rude huts and cumbrous arches of brick. The architectural contrast greatly aids the effect of the sculpturesque draperies : the figures clothed in the toga (which we never saw so classically worn on the stage before) look like animated statues. The Senate.house, where some hundred Senators (we did not count noses) are ranged in rows on marble benches one above another, might seem an assembly of demigods. The gorgeousness of the military pomp, too, delights the painter as much as the chaste elegance of the civil array does the sculptor : the predominance of red is relieved by the golden shields and helmets of the chiefs, and the steel caps and spears of the soldiery. The trophies, standards, and other accessories, ant not tawdry with tinsel, but subdued to the rich sober tone of the scenic background ; producing a chaste and harmonious effect, in keeping with the severe simplicity of that elder age.
To particularize every individual scene worthy of admilation, would be to enumerate them all : but we will instante two or three of the most striking, though the task of selection is difficult. The opening scene, where the mutinous rabble rush in, mad with excitement, bran- dishing axes, mallets, and staves, prepares the audience for what is to follow. Iiistead• of half a score lay figures, moving like automata, and giving at intervals a feeble bursa, less formidable than the shout of a pack of urchins let loose from school, we hear the roar of the many-headed monster, like the surging murmurs of the sea, swelling onward, till the multitude burst on the stage, rivalling in numbers and violence probably the actual Roman mob that thronged to the Capitol. The scene where the rabble threaten the life of Caius Marcius is really terrific ; and no less real is the humiliating yet ludicrous spec- tacle of the populace whirled about by their impulses like leaves in autumn, and alternately moved by the breath of sophistry and the words of wholesome counsel. The effect of an appeal to the reason of a mob—the evidences of a "sensation" produced by argument— are represented to the life. The most imposing display of classic pageantry is of course the tn- umpbal entry of the victorious Coriolanus, and his reception by a crowd waving palm.branches. The rude Wick arch beneath which the procession enters, and the characteristic simplicity of the pomp, give it an air of primitive reality : it reminds one of the bas-reliefs on the old triumphal arches. Quite as picturesque, and even more im- pressive, is the last scene, where the mother and wife of Coriolanus, heading a long train of women in mourning weeds, divide as with a black thread the red masses of the Volscian army. This is a fitting preparative to the closing scene, where the body of Coriolanus, laid on a bier formed on the instant of spears, and elevated on standards— his shield and helmet being his only trophy—is borne through the Vol. scian ranks; the soldiers trailing their pikes. The interiors remind one of the houses of Pompeii, with their open courts, only that the walls are bare ; their rude and comfortless gran- deur being made more striking by the few scattered elegancies of fur- niture. The hearth of Aufidius, by whose fire Coriolanus is discovered sitting, is a shrine for the Lares and Penates. ( The Volscian leader, by the by, was made to seem an economist of fuel—the addition of a fagot or two would be a great improvement.) This hall seen in dim shadow, lighted only by the fire—and the outside of Aufidiure house, with the mole stretching into the sea, beneath the starry canopy of night, the last streaks of twilight brightening the horizon—are the two most effective displays of the scene-painter's art; the marine landscape has an air of repose and solemn beauty like one of CLAuDE's pictures. We have dwelt thus minutely on the scenic effects, because in them consists the peculiar excellence of the representation : they constitute its most novel and attractive feature ; though the general efficiency of the cast of characters—which are so well appropriated that each is worthily filled, even to the utterer of a single sentence—may be included in the praise due to the completeness of the ensemble. Nor need MAcREADy desire a higher testimony to the merits of his acting, than that his own performance is in accordance with the whole : he rises above his compeers iii proportion as the character towers above the others. Doubtless, JOHN KEMBLE was more the bears ideal of the noble Roman ; but we won't quarrel with MACREADY for not being JOIIN KENIBLE,—especially since what he wants in sustained grandeur, he supplies by feeling and energy. He lacks the stately figure and commaaing Lir, which aided KEMBLE so powerfully in expressing the lofty dignity of the patrician hero, who stooped from the pedestal of his greatness to sumo the base plebeians ; but we might willingly accept IllacirEeDe's passionate indignation, the chafing of a choleric nature, though the contempt be alloyed with irritability and the anger with petulance —in lieu of the stoical indifference and cold disdain of KEMBLE—even if KEMBLE remained to us. The affectionate reverence of Coriolanus for his noble mother, and his yearnings for his family and friends—feelings that link the character with our sympathies—are beautiful traits in MACREADY'S personation. His ill-suppressed loath- ing when he solicits the "most sweet voices" of the citizens, his con- straint in subduing his swelling pride when he yields to his mother's entreaties to appease the people, and the unmeasured vituperation be hurls on the populace and their tribunes, are in the true spirit of the character of Coriolanus, who is equally intolerant of falsehood and meanness and incoutinent of anger. In the last great scene with Aufi. dius, where Coriolanus flings back on him the epithet "boy," MAC- READY gives the triumphant taunt with the fury and bitterness of one frantic with rage and indignation, the tempest of whose wrath has swept away the extremest bounds of discretion : his death thus appears to be the inevitable consequence of his unbearable disdain. Mrs. WARNER.S Volumnia is nobly energetic : but were she less loud in speech, not only would her utterance be more distinct, and her im- passioned declamation therefore more effective, but the dignity of the Roman matron would be better sustained. Mr. ANDERSON, as Avfidius, well becomes the barbaric chief; and lie plays with vigour and pro- priety. WareDE and SMILE. as Cominius and Titus Lortius, G. BENNETT and DIDDEAR, as the Tribunes, MEADOWS and PAYNE, RS the chief citizens, and other actors of less prominent parts,ably support the general efficiency of the cast. Melanins is a character well suited to BeartEe's bluff cordial humour ; and, despite a severe hoarseness, he gave due effect to the homely phraseology and blunt manner of this plain speaker. The applause, on Monday, was long, loud, and oft-repeated during the progress of the performance ; being challenged by the arrangements of every scene : and at the conclusion MACREADY was especially re- warded with enthusiastic acclamations for his successful exertions in his twofold character of actor and manager. And never have they been better deserved. Hitherto be had but restored SHAKSPEARE'S plays to their former footing on the stage : in this instance he has raised one of them to a higher elevation.
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