THE THEATRES
THE _.Covent Garden season has now begun in reality. MaciteaDv and l'annEst have joined the company, and tl.e shole stTength—or weakness father—of its resources fur representing the Legitimate Drama has been this week developed. The performances of the Seltoolfor Scandal and .King John have made painfully evident the pauperized condition to which Comedy and Tragedy are reduced on the 1.;np4ish stage. We allude not to the scenery and dresses merely, but rt o the neting. The fault, however, does not rest entirely with ma nagers now, whatever it may have done. Th 1 ;n .act -S, we have, with perhaps one exception, no great genius, and but little talent of a high order, among the present race of actors : and much of what exists is either scattered among the Minors or bespoke in America. The only relics of the greatness of the Drama in her high and palmy state, are but two or three columns, in a tottering condition, of the noble temple, of %Aid, SIDDONS, KEMBLE, O'NEIL, and YOUNG—LEWIS, ELLISTON, IVIL7NDEN, and 1\1am:we—were the chief pillars. FARREN and MacneaDv are the only two great artists now on the stage who are in their prime ; and CHARLES KEAN is the solitary star that twinkles in the distant horizon of the future. The prospect is dreary enough, but we must e'en make the best of it : the public seem disposed to do so, as is evident by the crowds that the two performances we have Mentioned drew to the theatre. Any thing approaching to excellence and completeness in the shape of a tine tragedy or a brilliant comedy even yet attract an audience. This patient endurance of mediocrity and imperfection, would seem to argue, that it is not so much the public change of taste for theatrical amusements, but the stage itself that is to blame. The soil seems exhausted.
MACILEADY appeared on Thursday as King John; CHARLES KEMBLE persunatiug Faulconbridge—a character which SHANSPEARE Dight have written for him ; and Miss HELEN FAUCIT essaying the part of Lady Constance for the first time. The character of King John is well suited to ATACREADY, whose greatest strength lies in the expression of weakness and wretchedness. his emotions do not seem deeply seated ; their manifestations partake too strongly of temperament. His energy is that of irritability, his indignation is splenetic, his dignity a proud reserve : in a word, his impulses are more physical than mental, though the mind diiects them as previous study dictated. His King John is a vivid impersonation of the dastardly and cruel usurper, with only the will and outward show of a king. He looked hollow, heartless, trembling with apprehension. In the interview with Hubert, he winds his way into the bosom of his minion like a serpent, fascinating him with a gaze of subtle malignity. Wily and crouching, his whole being is shaken with horrible misgivings : but when he finds his object is attained, his exultation is
irrepressible, though stilled by abject fears. His shuddering " Now could I be merry !" produced a thrilling effect. Perhaps he appears more agitated than is consistent with the cold-blooded cruelty of John, who knows no touch of pity or remorse, and whose cowardice is purely
a selfish dread of consequences. The dying scene was less effective : but it is in its nature an exhibition of mere bodily suffering, which is always painful to witness. MACREADY, however, prevented it from being either disgaisting or ludicrous, by his noble utterance of the magnificent imagery that sublimes the picture of physical agony. CHARLES KEMBLE personated the gallant soldier of foi tune, Faulcon',ridge, with chivalrous grace, and almost his wonted vigour. His restless energy and impatience of inaction redeem the braggart part of the character, by making the boastings appear but the ebullitions of a martial spirit. IThy will KEMBLE take such pains to obliterate our recollections of his triumphs in this and other similar characters, by playing Hamlet and Macbeth, which he could only act indifferently in his best days ? lie forces people to say that he has remained on the stage too long. Miss FAUCIT'S Lady Constance was—like all her efforts in lofty tragedy—a clever failure. She substitutes loudness for passion and whining for tenderness. It was grievous to hear the vociferous echo of her own mouthing and shouting, in the applauses that followed her illdirected exertions.
The Macbcth of AIACREADY, which was represented on Monday, had the usual beauties and faults familiar to playgoers. On this occasion we thought the beauties more prominent and the faults fewer. His Werner, on Wednesday, we did not see : but we have seen that extraordinary performance, and we are likely to remember it for ever. FARM:WS Sir Peter Teazle does not improve with years; and CHARLES KEMBLE'S Surface is a melancholy memorial of the past. In other respects, the School for Scandal of Covent Garden will hardly compete with that of a tolerable barn company.
YATES has already shown that h.r retains the art of catering successfully for the taste of the marvel-seeking, laughter-loving multitude, by producing one of those splendid melodramas of diablerie and drollery for which he has made the Adelphi renowned. The Doom of 2lIarana, or the Spirits of Good arid Evil, is founded partly on La Chute d'un Ange, one of the preternatural dramas of DUMAS, which so much delight the Parisians. It is a sort of rifacimento from Don Giovanni, Robert he Diable, Faust, and La Tentation, with the addition of a Good Spirit to contend with the Evil one,— thus giving a few redeeming touches to relieve the dark picture of vice and crime, and more forcibly as well as less disagreeably impressing the moral which these modern "
mysteries" inculcate.
In the palace of the ancient Spanish family of Marana, is a sculptured representation of a Good Spirit trampling under foot the Evil one, who lies bound in chains, like Satan under the Archangel in RAPHAEL'S picture; and with this group is associated a traditionary legend that the first crime committed by a descendant of the family frees the Evil Spirit from his bondage. Don Leon of Marano, the next heir, overhearing the confessor of his dying father urging the old man to sign a will in favour of an illegitimate son, rushes into the cham ber, kills the priest, and snatches away the unsigned will. The Evil Spirit is instantly released ; and proceeds to finish the career thus hopefully begun, by seducing Don Leon to commit sundry acts of prefligacy and two or three more murders, until the measure of his crimes being full, he is confronted with the stalvs of his victims, who call down vengeance on him, and is then dragged by the fiend to his fiery doom.
The Good Spirit has not been idle all this while ; for though at first shremains disconsolate in the niche, like a naughty girl on the stool
of repentance, sine tries her eloquence against the sophistries of the fiend, but without success. She even goes so far as to tempt Don Leon in the shape of a nun : but nun's flesh and sisterly love are not to his taste—he prefers the mistresses of men whom he has plundered or murdered. Space would fail us to recount the various exits and entrances of the two spirits, through walls and windows, floor and ceiling ; they are certainly the most familiar spirits ever seen. This excessive familiarity creates a strange confusion of mortals and immortals, on the stage ; and one is as much puzzled to discriminate the spiritual beings from those of flesh and blood, as to discern a living spectator in a crowd of wax figures. It seems so very odd to see servants and visiters carefully avoid running against an invisible being; and the hero sitting cheek by jowl with Miss DALT and 0. SMITH, and maintaining an argument with them, all the while affecting a happy unconsciousness of their presence or the sound of their voices. This is a harder task for the fancy than to conceive that the ghost of nonillions visible to Macbeth only. Mr. Lyo,s, the successor of YATES', is a clever actor, and has a face quite in keeping with the characters he is likely to be called upon to personate. There is a dreary wildness in his look—a blank stare and a sardonic smile—that become the roue. 0. Smini, as the Evil Spirit, is dressed something after the fashion of Mephistopheles, but with a red hood with horns, and claw-tipped shoes : Ile acts with Ins usual de.. moniac picturesqueness, and his face is a study for a painter. Mrs. STIRLING plays a chambermaid with such hearty vivacity, that she bids fair to become a great favourite in lively characters : they certainly. suit her better than heroics. BLICKSTONE, as a rascally scullion and waiter, makes prodigious fun : the scene were he drives a bargain for the sale of his soul with the Evil One, was a most laughable piece of absurdity.
The scenery and costumes, tableaux, and trausformations, are very complete and effective.
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