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Shake speare, 
 
 Ob. an. 1616. ^tat. 53. 
 
A 
 
 DRAMATIC SYNOPSIS, 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 AN ESSAY 
 
 OX THE 
 
 Political and Moral Zhe of a Theatre ', 
 INVOLVING REMARKS 
 
 ON THE 
 
 BIRAMATIC WmiTEIRS 
 
 OF THE PRESENT DAY, 
 
 AND 
 
 STRICTURES 
 
 ON THE 
 
 PERFORMERS OlP THE TWO THEATRES, 
 
 By THOMAS GILLILAND, 
 
 Si qnid novisti rectius istis, 
 
 Candidas iraperti ; Si non, his 
 Uiere mecum.— — Hok. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed for lackington, Allen, and Co. Finsbury Squa:e ; Symonds, 
 Paternoster Row ; Jcidan and Maxwell, Fleet Str-e*^ ; S. Highley 
 near Temple Bar; Roach, Hus&el Cojrt, Drury Lane; Williams, 
 No. 11, Strand; Bell, No. 148, Oxford Street, opposite Bond 
 Street; and Ginger, Piccadilly. ^ 
 
 1S04. 
 
 W. Nicholson, Printer, Warner-street,- 
 
■■■■■''■.mm^ri;'' 
 
 k 
 
 «!" 
 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 As Theatrical entertainments have of late 
 years become a primary species of diversion 
 in this Country, any endeavour to raise the, 
 dignity of the Theatre and the consequence 
 T)f its Professors, will not I trust be unac- 
 ceptable to the Public; under this impres- 
 sion the following sheets have been written, 
 not as works of this nature have too often 
 been ushered into existence, by laying Per- 
 formers under contribution, and bestowing 
 praise in proportion to the quantity of 
 pudding, or pecuniary remuneration received 
 by the Critic; Being therefore not in want 
 of favours, their talents have been I hope 
 subjects of candid and impartial criticism ; 
 and if any one should take umbrage at the 
 observations made in this Work, on either his 
 writings or professional efforts, he should 
 recollect that any one who offers himself as 
 a candidate for public fame, is fair game 
 for remark, and that he will have this Pub- 
 lication in return for the ample gratification 
 of his revenge. And as I feel myself pre- 
 
 ivi;l,45812 
 
IV ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 cisely in the same situation as those persons 
 M'ho have b.een the objects of comment, I 
 shall have no right to complain of their cen- 
 sure or public anhnadversion. I have how- 
 ever thought proper to observe, that I hope 
 my disapprobation of any one's merits, is 
 not conveyed in reflections injurious to .pri- 
 vate character, or in scurrilous and ungentle- 
 manly language. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 r 
 
BMAI^IATIC SYJfOFSIS, 
 
 As the period has now arrived when pulpit ahusCj 
 and public prejudice, have lost their force against 
 the Stage, and the profession of a Player, we may 
 venture to dwell on the political and moral use 
 of Dramatic Exhibitions^ without the danger of 
 ecclesiastical denunciation, or the hostihty of 
 any religious sectary. It therefore must be of in- 
 finite gratification to every lover of the Thespian 
 Art, to see that the most elevated characters of 
 Church and State countenance a science, and its 
 professors, that were once treated with the most 
 unquahfied calumny and disrespect. We scarcely 
 think there is now a clergyman of the Church of 
 England, who would level the artillery of his ac- 
 quirements against the Stage of the present day. From 
 the elaborate writings of Bedford, Collier, Duncan *, 
 
 * Duncan gives the following account of the awful hand of pro- 
 vidence, on school -boys representing a Play, for their winter enter- 
 ment, as an argument against the existence of the Stage. But he is 
 modest enough to observe, he did not witness the gloomy Scene. 
 
 *' Several young people met to exhibit the sick, or dying man, (I know 
 not which) a few of them belonged to a boarding school, as did my 
 informer. Some of their relations were present ; one representing the 
 man dangerously ill, was siezed instantly with what he represented^ 
 
 B 
 
( 2 ) 
 
 and several pthers, who resuscitated from their peace- 
 ful slumbers all those arguments^ (if they deserve to 
 be called so) from the writings of the Fathers *, and 
 other religious authors of the dark ages, who wrote 
 against the existence of a science, it evidently ap- 
 
 another representing him dying, was deprived of his senses : the last, 
 was put into a coffin representing the man dead, was seized with most 
 violent agonies and died instantly." 
 
 We confess Mr. Duncan must have had a monstrous swallow, to 
 have gorged this improbable curse of providence ; to suppose that a 
 Dramatic entertainment (doubtless of the most innocent texture, as 
 it had the countenance and support of the school preceptor, and the 
 relatives of the young Tyros,) should have called the mighty venge- 
 ance of the Omnipotent power, on the heads of children who were 
 about to occupy their leisure hour, in the recital of some useful Play, 
 that had, we have a right to believe, a moral example, is too farcical 
 for common credulity. If this strange and extravagant picture of the 
 dreadful wrath of heaven had come from any other person but a 
 clergyman, we should have ventured to call it a falsehood. To give this 
 lale a logical analysis, will illustrate its absurdity in a stronger point of 
 view. It is unnecessary to panegyrise parental feeling ; we all know that 
 if the first youth in the Drama, had met with the physical affliction 
 described, the whole company, from the relative to the master, would 
 not have suffered the diversion to have gone on, much less, as this 
 story-monger affirms, that the second boy representing his dying 
 companion, became a victim to his mimic passion, and the third un- 
 happy youth, carrying his enthusiasm for Stage effect to a greater de- 
 gree of boldness, was put into the coffin to represent his second unfor- 
 tunate companion. But in the zenith of his descriptive action, he 
 was seized and died in the utmost agony. 
 
 This anecdote plainly shews the strength of superstitious bigotry ; 
 and however great a man may be in talent, acquirement, honour, and 
 morality, yet he will too often embrace fiction, court the aid of the 
 marvellous, and distort truth for the support of his favourite theme. 
 
 And that question which he would give his opinion of, and decide on, 
 with honour and justice, where his bigotry was not concerned, would 
 be entirely lost sight of, when the religious idol of his mind was the 
 subject of enquiry. — So fimch for human imperfection. 
 
 » «* In all the Scriptures both of the Old and New Testament, there 
 is not a word to recommend such diversions : in all the ecclesiastical 
 writers of the four first centuries, there is no tone of expression in 
 favour of the Stage, and there are very few who do not set themseUeji 
 directly against it. The Fathers constantly express their resentments 
 Tvithout uny iimitationf and exclaim against it as a thing positively 
 
( 3 ) 
 
 pears they never philosophically enquired into, 
 but anathematised it from ignorant prejudice. But 
 as the mist of learned ignorance has gradually been 
 dispelled by the warm rays of 4"eason, the professors 
 ofchristianity have relaxed their severity against the 
 Stage; and from the more frequent intercourse which 
 has taken place between this valuable body of men 
 and the laity, we find that they have not only become 
 the admirers of the Stage, but have given it support 
 by dedicating their time to Dramatic composition. 
 
 It is not our intention to enter into a minute 
 history of the progressive state of the Stage, ia this 
 or other countries, as that has already been done, 
 by various and able writers, but merely to take a 
 cursory view of the estimation it has been held in, 
 by different nations, and at different times, a? well, 
 as to consider its moral, and political use to the 
 country, which we have thought necessary to precede 
 our analysis of the Dramatic talent of each Theatre. 
 If we cast our eye over the page of history we 
 shall iind that in Greece, persons of the first dis- 
 tinction performed on the Stage, and that Dramatic 
 Exhibitions were considered of great use, to the 
 safety of the national compact and public peace, 
 and held in high estimation by many of the most 
 rigid philosophers* of that country; and as soon as 
 
 evil in itself, as the very nes^ of iniquity y the synagogue ofSa/an, the have 
 of religion, the pomp and vanity of this wicked world, which a chris- 
 tian renounceth in his baptismal voiv, and the in-let to all vice and 
 profaneness, and constantly plead for its total suppression." 
 
 Bedford. 
 
 * Socrates, whose benevolence and wisdom appeared to have something 
 
 of divinity, was the voluntary assistant of Euripides, in the composition 
 
 of his Tragedies, and undoubtedly was of opinion, that he taught philo- 
 
( 4 ) 
 
 the Romans had leisure from the fatigues of war 
 to study the luxuries of life, they became enthusiastic 
 imitators of Grecian customs : the Drama, therefore, 
 carrying with it so many allurements, was no in- 
 considerable object of their attention, and like other 
 Arts, gained its polish as the people became more 
 refined. It, however, at different period^ of its efful- 
 gent life, met with much opposition, and perhaps 
 just reprobation, by public moralists and guardians of 
 the laws, from the licentiousness of Players. But the 
 immorality of the Scenic heroes, arose from the depra- 
 vity of the people, who had set bad example and 
 given encouragement to the worst of actions, on 
 the public Theatre, it is to be observed th^^t when- 
 ever Stage Exhibitions are anti-moral, the fault is 
 not with the Actors, but with the Public, they being 
 as Shakespear says, " the brief Chronicle of the 
 Times," and following popular example. 
 
 The public always have the power to regulate the 
 Stage ; their voice constitutes precedents of either 
 good or evil, as what they disapprove of, dare not; 
 be repeated *. The Roman Actors were placed 
 precisely in the same situation, and governed by ex^ 
 ample. When the habits of the people became de-? 
 bauched by too great a profusion of eastern wealth 
 they forgot Catonian wisdom, and launched into all 
 the vices, idleness, and luxury could give birth tQ 
 
 sophy, to instruct the herd of mankind in the most effectual manner, 
 when he introduced her to their notice in the buskin. 
 
 • The public cannot keep too tight a rein over Stage exhibitions. 
 This may at first appear a severity, but as long as a Performer wishes 
 to be considered important, and his profession no disgrace, such ap- 
 parent severity will secure the Stage untainted, from loose and ridicu- 
 lous buffoonery, therefore render the malice of religious enemies 
 abortive, and add a lustre to the national school of polite learning. 
 
(5) 
 
 and clierisb. Was it to be expected then, that the 
 Actors who were merely existing automatons of pubUc 
 whim, could live with Epictetiis in their mouths, 
 while a hundred thousand* spectators were regaling in 
 the practical philosophy of Epicurus? These doctrines 
 did not accord, and the Players must have starved 
 unless they had pampered the popular appetite with 
 nauseous viands to gratify their depraved taste. 
 
 Yet the enlightened and virtuous of that cele- 
 brated country, knew how to distinguish the dross 
 from the ore, and, to divide the worthy from the 
 worthless, and talent from destructive buffoonery; 
 consequently many of the Roman Players, were the 
 companions of those characters, whose pages have 
 l5tood the test of ages, for every species of wisdom 
 that can adorn the human mind. It is almost un- 
 necessary to mention Cicero's attachment to Ros- 
 ciusf and ^sopus, and his great admiration of 
 their talents, as well as his high opinion of the mo- 
 ral and political use of a well regulated Stage, a 
 
 * Gibbon, in his Decline of the Roman Empire, states that the an- 
 cient Circus held four hundred thousand spectators. The Theatre 
 from the account of this learned gentleman, must have held nearly 
 the above number of persons, as the performers amounted to six thou- 
 sand including singers and dancers ; he also observes in his reflections 
 on the morality of the Roman Theatres, that " These representations 
 in modern capitals may deserve to be considered as a pure and ele- 
 gant school of taste and perhaps of virtue." 
 
 •j- But from the immorality which accompanied the stage exhibitions 
 of that period, Cicero seems to lament the fate of his friend Rosci us, 
 when he tells us, '* that he was'so superior to all as a Player, that he 
 alone seemed worthy of appearing upon the Stage, but of so exalted a 
 character as a man, that of all men he deserved least to be doomed to 
 so scandalous a profession.'" 
 
 Et enim cum artifex ejusmodi, sit ; ut solus dignus videatur esse, 
 qui in Scena Sper^tatur: tum vir ejusmodi est, ut solus dignus videa- 
 tur qui eo non accedat. — Orat. pro Rose, edit. Glasg. p. 43. 
 
(6) 
 
 tedious dilation on which subject would be only 
 going over beaten ground. 
 
 In modern Etirope it appears from Ricciboni, and 
 oth^r authors, on the progressive state of Theatrical 
 Exhibitions in Italy, Germany, France, and Eng- 
 land, that they were nearly in the same state of pe-r 
 nnry and meanness in each country, and the pro- 
 fessors of the Thespian Art a low set of wandering 
 mummers, whose exhibitions and powers of describ- 
 ing the passions, evinced a total ignorance of the 
 former glory of the Greek and Roman Theatres, and 
 of every thing that bore the semblance of nature. 
 Hence it is easily accounted for, how the name of 
 Placer carried with it disrespect, and as their Scenic 
 pictures had no power to agitate the passions and 
 produce reflection, but shewed a deformity of every 
 thing that was human, for the contempt of the wise, 
 and the sneer of the vulgar, consequently the Actors 
 remained for years breathing a scorned existence 
 amid the lowest rabble of a country fair. Is it then 
 any wonder, that the character of a Player was held 
 in great contempt from the deplorable state of an art, 
 which exhibited no charms to engage the under- 
 standing? Therefore the public did not interest them- 
 selves to ameliorate the condition of its professors, 
 but left the Thespian troop with their chaotic and 
 heterogeneous shew, to struggle with the poisonous 
 breath of mistaken zealots, in the barbarous times 
 of religious ignorance. In this state of wretchedness 
 the drama remained in this country, till Edward 
 the Third 1327, suppressed its existence. Shortly 
 after this period sacred mysteries were introduced to 
 
(7) 
 
 public notice, which were borrowed from the scrip- 
 lures. This species of Drama became a common ex- 
 hibition in most parts of Europe, and was held in 
 high reputation during the reign of Richard IL 
 Henry IV. and down to the reign of Henry VHI. 
 1509; when pieces of a political tendency were 
 framed to support the current opinion of the day. 
 This we understand the above monarch thought 
 proper to interdict; the performers of those pieces 
 resorted to the mansions of the great, and the 
 Drama was so contrived, that five or six persons 
 could assume a variety of characters ; and from the 
 encouragement the nobility and gentry gave to 
 this species of diversion, it lived in concealed oppo- 
 sition to the royal mandate, to the happy days 
 of Elizabeth, which drew from Shakespear's en- 
 chanted pen several satirical allusions: it was to 
 his all-powerful genius, that we are indebted for the 
 beauty of Dramatic composition. His contempo- 
 rary Jolinson also gave gigantic aid in raising the 
 Stage at once to dignity and perfection here — if 
 one may indulge the powers of fancy, and give a: 
 poetical journey to the Muses, who had been exiled 
 Athens and Rome, and like persecuted pilgrims, 
 had vainly struggled for centuries amid the cabals 
 of ignorance, war, and superstition, for a temple of 
 protection, which only Shakespear's genius could 
 rear. 
 
 During the reign of the above Princess, learning 
 and the polite arts flourished with the Stage, and 
 her esteem for the Drama shed a lustre on its pro- 
 fessor* before unknown in the English history. Thi» 
 
tti paralleled attention from the throne to the Sclor^, 
 induced them to form themselves into a regular 
 Company bearing the appellation of Her Majesty's 
 servants; and, with many privileges they continued 
 to flourish till the reign of Charles I, whose gloomy 
 and austere temper but ill accorded with the ge- 
 nius. of Dramatic exhibitions, and who bestowed his 
 patronage on masks and other musical representa- 
 tions, prepared at court agreeable to his desire, and 
 decorated with Scenic effect by the celebrated I/iigo 
 Jones, And from the great increase of the fanati- 
 cal power at that period, and the growing convul- 
 sion of the state, the Stage rapidly lost its effulgence 
 till the Commonwealth consigned it to little better 
 than perfect oblivion. But after fanaticism lost its 
 force, and genius threw off the fetters of supersti- 
 tious slavery, the few Players who had been invisi- 
 ble during the convulsions of the country began to 
 congregate, and by the assistance of a few writers 
 the town once more heard of a Theatre *. But still 
 prejudice had its porcupine power, and threw the 
 poisonous quills of slander against the Theatre and 
 professors. — In Cibber*s time, though the stage had 
 many learned men f who filled high situation^ in 
 the state, as well as able writers, to give it all the 
 grace and dignity would admit of, yet calumny lost 
 not her viperous touch, and the Players were daily 
 stigmatized in the most severe manner. But not- 
 withstanding their daily abuse, those *that were emi- 
 nent in the art, were received with all respect iu 
 
 « Charles the Second's time. 
 
 t Lord HalUfax, Henry Killigrew, Addison, Sir Richard Steele, &c. 
 
(9) 
 
 Companies of the first distinction^ and higlity (*a-$ 
 ressed by persons of the first quality. 
 
 It was this strange treatment of Players both in 
 England and France^ that occasioned a French 
 writer to make the following observation on the con- 
 duct of the two nations : ^^ Players^" says he, ^^ were 
 in high esteem amongst the Greeks, by the Romans 
 they were looked upon as despicable ; we think of 
 them like the Romans, and behave to them like the 
 Greeks/' 
 
 It has been an object of much consideration and 
 remark, that the Flench^ a polite people, should 
 have carried their prejudice even to such a state of 
 folly, indeed almost madness, as to refuse Christian 
 burial to several of their most distinguished per- 
 formers. Moliere *, the celebrated Dramatist and 
 Actor, could not obtain a place of interment witli- 
 out the interposition of the great, which drew from 
 his wife that emphatical exclamation, *^ What must 
 a man who deserves altars, be refused a tomb I'* 
 
 There are many other instances of the ridiculous 
 prejudice against the stage, which are extant in 
 the writings of various authors on that subject, all 
 of which have evidently arisen from its original 
 weakness; consequently the public imbibed the 
 notions, and used the abusive language of their 
 progenitors, without taking into their mature con- 
 sideration the existing state of the science and 
 its political and ornamental utility. Some time 
 prior to the revolution in France f, the Stage of 
 that country was considered the most chaste and 
 
 * Died 1673, f About the Year nao^ 
 
( 10 ) 
 
 Jttoral of any in Europe; and it has been observed 
 by able writers, that morality has been bettet 
 preached in France on the boards of a Theatre than 
 the pulpit, and though Plays were not made sub- 
 servient to the interests of vice, yet performers lived 
 under the sting of ancient prejudice. . In this coun- 
 try many Theatrical entertainments produced in the 
 leign of Charles II. were, and are extremely vul- 
 nerable in point of moral tendency, and have been 
 wisely objected to by the pen of the ethic writer; 
 and though many of the pieces of that period are 
 pregnant with innumerable beauties, and unpa- 
 lalleled for Attic wit ; yet to represent them as they 
 were originally performed, would be an offence to 
 a modern debauchee. But it must be recollected 
 that these defects attach no blame to the Player, nor 
 do former evils militate against the Stage of the 
 present day. And as we before observed, that when 
 the people were governed by a relaxed system of 
 ethics, it w^as not to be expected that the Stage 
 could exist without a sacrifice of its intended philo- 
 sophic principle — to hold, asShakespearsays, '^ the 
 mirror up to nature.'' 
 
 But in order to encompass at one view the gene- 
 ral tincture of depravity and licentiousness of that 
 period, we must be permitted to observe that put- 
 pit orations were not wholly hec from indelicate allu- 
 sions, which if now offered would meet with public 
 execration ; this shews, to what an extent human 
 evil had expanded itself, tvhen Christian pastor* 
 were infected with the national mania. 
 
 Was the Player then accountable for th^ yicea of 
 
( II ) 
 
 a country p Was be "wlio lived on the caprice of the 
 public, to dictate to them the species of diversion 
 they ought to have ? Yet he suiffered the scourge of 
 slander, and every insult the humblest character in 
 the country would kick at, though he had no will of 
 his own, as to the Drama represented, but was ob- 
 liged to give his utmost energy to the part assigned 
 to him, whether it was a libel on the state, or the 
 deformed, and unlicked cub, of a debauched mind. 
 The Actor was compelled to stand the public roast, 
 from merely being the organ of either a silly, or a 
 vicious character, he had no hand in forming, and 
 if the latter, he often bore subsequent abuse, for 
 being what, he only represented, particularly if he 
 was successful in pourtraying the author with a 
 masterly pencil. 
 
 From that universal liberality which now pervades 
 the public mind, we think if it were probable for 
 human depravity to give birth to a piece of Dramatic 
 Composition, which had for its object the destruction 
 of the national morals, and allowing the probability 
 of its obtaining the sanction of Lord Salisbury, and 
 the Manager; the Enghsh would not attach the 
 impurity of the piece to the private character of the 
 Performers, whose refusal of their parts would incur 
 a heavy penalty ^, but would consider the author, 
 his Lordship, and the Manager only accountable for 
 the public insult, — In Charles IPs. voluptuous days 
 the exhibition of an indelicate Play, was an offence 
 only to be attached to the public, as the Manager 
 
 * At Covent Garden Theatre thirty pounds : before the' dispute be- 
 tween the gentlemen of that House and Mr. Harris, the penalty was 
 ftve pounds. 
 
(12) 
 
 could not have kept his Theatre open without a sa^ 
 crifice of morality^ to feed and nurse popular vice. — 
 Therefore the arguments which have been used, 
 against the existence of a Theatre^ and its professors, 
 are not now applicable. The Stage being the pro- 
 totype of a people whose religion^ sensibility, and 
 morals have raised them above the degenerate mor-^ 
 tals of those days ; though the Drama of the present 
 time cannot boast of that brilliancy of wit, which is 
 current in the Comedies of that period, yet its substi- 
 tute is of a more national upe, animating by example 
 the love of country, public courage, and all those vir- 
 tues that must grace the English character, keep them 
 free from the yoke of foreign tyrannj^, and thatunpa-? 
 ralleled catalogue of vices existing in a neighbouring 
 nation, which have been engendered by monsters 
 in the monstrous moments of human depravity. 
 
 If to make the morality and the usefulness of the 
 Stage, a question of philosophic enquiry, without 
 reverting either to its ancient Greek or Roman 
 grandeur, but merely to try its national use by syllo- 
 gistic rule, be not an act of profaneness in the eye 
 of a methodist preacher*, we will venture to take a 
 
 • We do not mean to insinuate any thing of a disrespectful nature 
 against this sect ; it is our firm opinion that it has by extempore ad- 
 dresses to the people, been infinitely serviceable to the state in re- 
 claiming the lower order of society from intemperate living. But the 
 burthen of its ephemeral song, is constant invective against the Stage and 
 its professors; and ihcsemild calumniators repeatedly avovr their belief of 
 their o\vn immediate damnation, if they were to venture within the house 
 of Satan, consequently common reason must tell every one that they are 
 quite unqualified to give an opinion on that subject, they prpfess them- 
 selves strangers to. We must confess that this absurd and empty 
 abuse against the Stage, has generally come from that order of theif 
 clergy, (if they deserve the nanicj who hay? left the cpbler's-st^U o? 
 coal-bJirge for the pvilt>i$, 
 
( 13 ) 
 
 view of its powers in the crucible of reason^ wliicU 
 will equally cast up its defects as well as beauties, 
 and expose to the eye of the observer its separate 
 lineaments as well as collective whole. 
 
 A Drama we consider a picture composed of all 
 the feelings and actions which characterize the 
 human mind, ?lnd partaking of form, beauty of co- 
 louring and poHsh, agreeable to the genius of its 
 parent, and the refinement of the country. 
 
 Among the visible actions and efforts of men ia 
 society, some must of course be inadmissible to the 
 embraces of the Muses, from the depravity which 
 attends overgrown states, as the exposure of some 
 offences, have been known to beget advocates, and 
 has operated as an encouragement to vice instead of 
 an antidote ; these it must be observed are but few. 
 If then a Drama is allowed to be a picture of the in- 
 finitely various passions,,which shew the human cha- 
 racter in a thousand different forms, and display an 
 equal variety of actions, surely some of these accord- 
 ing to common reason, must be virtuous and produce 
 good, or otherwise thebody politic could not exist, and 
 to imitate virtue, cannot be an offence to the great 
 author of our nature ; in this the most severe reli- 
 gionist must acquiesce, and if the actions of men are 
 })ad, he surely will allow, that it is better to shame 
 
 It is therefore not to be expected, that either liberality, refinement 
 of sentiment, or logical acquirement, will attend their oral doctrines, 
 which is generally found to accompany the learned members of the 
 Church, in the elevated duty of their divine office. 
 
 We have thought it therefore not unfair, to take a trifling liberty 
 with those who do not hesitate to daub a science and its professors 
 with abuse, whose avowed prejudice will not permit them to become 
 4ts ocular investigators* 
 
( 14 ) 
 
 them out of evil than produce good by stripes, con- 
 sequently the strongest shame must be that which is 
 produced by the strongest impression, therefore the 
 mirror of human folly goes a greater way to cure 
 defect than dry remonstrance ; the latter men hate 
 to reflect on, the former fastens on the mind, from 
 making its way to the heart, through the medium of 
 the senses ; being engaged by the combined powers 
 of a Theatre, such as the art of the poet's reasoning, 
 the efiects of Scenery and the talent of the Actor. It 
 is daily observable in the common walks of life that 
 there are men, who would sooner suffer the confine- 
 ment of a cell, than the sneer of a satirist; and many 
 persons would hourly trespass on the laws, without 
 the fear of any punishment, but that of public ex- 
 posure. Then what method is there stronger to de- 
 BA'oy vice, check licentious habits, and expose the 
 growing folly of the age, than to give it form and 
 character, by the aid of Scenic effect, which carries 
 an artful antidote, uniting ridicule with admonition, 
 which gives the Drama superior power to impart, 
 the impressive beauties of moral example that live 
 on the pubhc mind, soften the ferocity of vulgarism, 
 and correct the grosser desires of the heart ? 
 
 After our review of its collective powers, permit 
 us to analyse its separate parts, but not as to the na- 
 ture of the three unities, action, time and place, and 
 its division into five acts, according to the rule of 
 Horace. 
 
 Ke Tc minor, nee sic quinto productior actu^ 
 Tabula (pice possi vidt et Spcctata reponi. 
 
 The philosophy of these anqient rules of art, has 
 been a question of much literary dispute, and there- 
 
(15 ) 
 
 fore well known to every intelligent reader, wliich 
 renders their illustration unnecessar}^, as our enquiry 
 here is not as to the beauty of Dramatic structure, 
 but the effect it has on the public mind. 
 
 There is scarcely a scene of a play but what has 
 a more powerful effect from the infinite passions it 
 pourtrays^ (and therefore it makes a stronger impres- 
 sion on the feelings of an audience) than could pos- 
 sibly be produced by the best moral discourse that 
 ever was compos^ or delivered, by the most po- 
 lished and impressive lecturer * ; the reason of it is 
 obvious, that the majority of young persons seldom 
 give a proper attention to the eloquence of the pulpit, 
 which pourtrays subjects of the most perfect sub- 
 limity, and dwells on that happiness only attainable 
 by a proper attention to the moral duties of life, 
 and which is so blended with the christian faith, 
 that he who is insensible of our national religion has 
 iio claim to the character of moralist. But we will 
 venture to observe that the attention the juvenile 
 age gives to the weekly lectures of their parish 
 pastor, is generally enforced under some restraint 
 either of parent or preceptor, and we are sorry to 
 remark, that many of every class in society appear 
 lost to that mass of literary beauty which is dis- 
 played in the sacred writings. It therefore follows, 
 that if we had no other moral check and example 
 for the rising generation, the nation would be 
 dead to those great actions of philanthropy and 
 morality which distinguish a people who are the 
 
 ♦ In support of our opinion Burke has observed, that ** the Theatre 
 is a better school of moral ientim«nc than ehuiehts." 
 
( 16) 
 
 "Wonder, admiration and envy of every civilized 
 state. 
 
 The Theatre stands then between legislative au- 
 thority and the church, and prevents the enaction 
 of many new laws and the enforcement of your sta- 
 tutes, by lectures of ethics which are conveyed 
 through such a variety of pleasing mediums, the 
 niorahty of those philosophers whose doctrines once 
 governed the polished inhabitants of Greece ; and 
 was removed from the porch to the Roman Se- 
 nate under a legal garb, to regulate the passions 
 of the people of that celebrated empire, and which 
 at present constitutes great part of our civil code ; 
 has been used by the most celebrated of the Bri- 
 tish Dramatic podts, who have culled the honey 
 from the Grecian hive, unaccompanied with the 
 incipient garment of formal philosophy, and sur- 
 rendered to the care of the Muses, those beauties of 
 ethic admonition, which they administer in a 
 Scenic dress as a poison to mental evil, through 
 the aid of sweets, the same way children are deceiv- 
 ed with medicine ; they would turn from wiih dis- 
 gust, unless conveyed by a palatable draught. 
 
 The assumption of the various passions which ac- 
 company the Players duty, illustrate the numerous 
 follies which attend our nature, and often strike so 
 forcibly on our imagination, as to operate a cure of 
 those habits, which appeared to us so odious on the 
 Stage, when every other species of admonition would 
 have failed of its intended effect, the first being a 
 picture of our weakness, folly, vice, &c. and the 
 other a cold lesson that don't agree with our pride, 
 and which our friends often dislike to trouble us 
 
( 17) 
 
 with, for fear of giving offence, from the great con* 
 iiection of society, being linked by interest more 
 than pure affection, the strength of Scenic effect is 
 not to be wondered at, if we take into consideration 
 the compound as well as separate beauties of a 
 Drama, each part viewed distinctly will be found to 
 have an astonishing power to enslave the faculties. 
 
 The first is the philosopher and poet's fancy, in 
 framing and blending the morality and beauty of 
 thought with sweetness of diction, indeed language, 
 might be taken as a second article of consideration, 
 but as it is the medium of our thought, it must be 
 connected with the ability of the mind, as thought 
 would be nothing but a blank, without the commu- 
 nicative power of speech. 
 
 How numerous are the passions which his pencil 
 has to delineate, contrasting them a hundred times 
 in every scene, which is also contrasted with oppo- 
 site characters, as youth and age, love and hatred; 
 and every trait of feeling and passion, which swell 
 the human bosom ! This portrait of busy personages 
 even in the closet cannot fail to agitate the Reader's 
 mind, and leave an indelible impression of its moral. 
 
 The second object of remark, is the Actor's power 
 to assume the author's portrait, in such a way as to 
 give life to language ; the perfection of this art is 
 very difficult to arrive at, as it requires more than 
 the possession of the poet's words to render him great. 
 A well drawn character must be the offspring of a 
 fine observer of nature, and its variety of feeling, 
 be produced by the pen of elaborate study, conse- 
 quently to anal3'se every line, to render the sense 
 effective, and exhibit from a laconic speech or sentence 
 
 D 
 
( 18 ) 
 
 a picture pregnant with those masterly tints of cha- 
 racteristic feeling, calls for an Actor of strong phy- 
 sical and refined powers, temperate habits, and in- 
 defatigable application. 
 
 It will however answer our purpose to suppose, the 
 Drama supported with anyportion of ability, as ihe au- 
 dience become spectators of imitative life, in which 
 every person gradually feels himself interested for 
 the fate of one or more of the Dramatic personages. 
 This must arise from their being involved in the dif^ 
 ficulties and miseries attendant on our natnre, but 
 the author shews the source and progress of 
 those follies and vices, that lead to misery and dis- 
 tress, consequently we learn how to avoid them_, by 
 their exposure and that not merely from the collec- 
 tive powers of the Drama, but by viewing the me- 
 thod and art used by each character, to ensnare his 
 neighbour into difficulty and distress, and how the 
 vicious man obtains the object of his depraved wish, 
 as also how his over cunning and infamy, renders 
 him a sacrifice to his lawless ambition, and if the 
 poet should have drawn him a successful adven- 
 turer, still his actions are a picture of real life, as 
 vice does not on all occasions meet with detection 
 find punishment. 
 
 To enumerate the various characters which ex- 
 hibit vahiable lessons for the safety of our journey 
 through life, would occupy a volume of considerable 
 magnitude; the reader therefore must assist in ac- 
 companying our remark with the recollection of all 
 those characters of moral instruction, which have 
 affected his mind, either from their reading or exhibi- 
 tion. \Ye shall therefore leave the illustration of 
 
( 19 ) 
 
 «ven the prominent monuments of ethic example^ 
 and onlv observe,, that Shakespeare, Johnson, Dry- 
 den, Otway and Rowe, have existing and ample 
 proof of the validity of om* statement, besides many 
 authors of a more modern date. 
 
 Before we dismiss this part of our subject, it will 
 not be improper to dilate on other good effects?, 
 which have been produced by the Drama; inde- 
 pendant of its morality there are hundreds in so- 
 ciety, who would never think of reading more thaa 
 the current news of the day, and many not even 
 trouble themselves with the thought of typographic 
 information, had not their curiosity been roused 
 from seeing a favourite Drama, to compare it with 
 the story, or history on which it was founded ; this 
 has given many persons a love of letters, that with- 
 out the incentive mentioned, would have remained 
 in gothic ignorance all their lives, and surely a love 
 of literature even in the humblest degree, tends to 
 soften the mind, and expand the heart, consequently 
 civilization gains a gigantic stride by the increase 
 of public information. It is also from the Stage, that 
 order of people, who have never been taught ta 
 accent words, become acquainted with the best pro- 
 nunciation of their vernacular tongue, and after 
 they are once incited to read the history, story, or 
 fable, from which the Drama has been taken, that 
 first led them to literary enquiry, they soon become 
 acquainted with their political situation in the coun- 
 try, the faundcition of that liberty they now enjoy, 
 and the civil and ecclesiastical power of the state at 
 different epochs of national greatness or penury, the 
 ^rogr^ss of commerce and the fine arts, and an infi- 
 
( 20 ) 
 
 Bite variety of subjects, connected with the history 
 of the nation^ this tends to impress on the Enghsh 
 mind, the blessings pecuhar to Britons, and illus- 
 trates their liberty and happiness ; which they must 
 have been insensible to in a state of ignorance; the 
 Drama therefore furnishes the imagination, with 
 the assumed feature of historical action, and eluci- 
 dates the character of heroes in a stronger and more 
 impressive point of view, than has been done by the 
 pencil of the historian. 
 
 The third object of consideration is music ; on this 
 Science, the language of panegyric can never equal 
 the beauties, sublimity, and power, which a mathe- 
 matical arrangement of sounds have constituted into 
 a divine art; indeed our attempt to illustrate the 
 extent of its powers, and the effect it has produced 
 on the human mind in the amelioration of savage 
 life would at best be only an imperfect descrip- 
 tion, as its beauty and force, though powerfully felt 
 by all, carries redoubled strength, where the mind 
 is refined by a musical education, as all the delicacy 
 of composition, is then felt with a more sensible 
 organ, and enjoyed with a greater zest, consequent- 
 ly what language must fail to dignify and impress; 
 the mind will feel enraptured with, and admire in 
 proportion to its sensibility. 
 
 It is unnecessary to quote the many instances re- 
 corded by Doctor Brown, (in 'his treatise on the 
 rise and progress of poetry and music), of the ex- 
 traordinary efi'ects pioduced by the powers of this 
 Science, as few persons are either insensible of it^ 
 enchantmg qualifications, or hardy enotJigh to deny 
 the energy of its infiuence over the feelings. 
 
( 21 ) 
 
 It is therefore wisely employed by almost every 
 religious sect in Europe, as the pleasing medium 
 by which their doctrines are supported, and religi- 
 ous enthusiasm nourished ; and nothing adds to the 
 dignity of sacred poetry, and solemnity which ac- 
 companies the christian's duty at the altar of devo- 
 tion, so much as the sonorous and sublime notes of 
 church music. 
 
 The music used at Theatres is not to be distin- 
 guished by any particular epithet, as it partakes of 
 every species of composition, from the oratorio to 
 the sprightly air, and though the former is calculated 
 to sublime the mental faculties, yet the latter tends 
 to tranquillize the mind according to its elegance 
 and simplicity, and is generally given to us in opera- 
 tic pictures of pastoral life, in which the habits of 
 the rustic are delineated with a pleasing effect. 
 Pieces of this description exhibit the passions in a 
 different dress, and through a different medium 
 from what they appear, when emblazoned with re- 
 finements in the precincts of a court. And though 
 according to a remark of Caesar, there is not less am- 
 bition in the most obscure village than in the capi- 
 tal, when it is called into action agreeable to the 
 genius of its possessor, and which is often found to 
 accompany the pursuit of some village amusement, 
 wherein the rustic will exert every nerve at the 
 hazard of his life, for the glory of being victorious; 
 and the ambition which led a Cajsar to the con- 
 quest of the world, is shewn by this species of Drama 
 only to lead a clown to the conquest of j^ome trifl- 
 ing object,' this pastoral picture finely illustrates 
 the state of man^ in various stages of human exist- 
 
(.22 ) 
 
 enre, and gives to a reflective mind a delectable 
 treat, while contemplating his own nature and the 
 Comparative situation of his fellow creatures. 
 
 As love is the parent passion of our nature^ out of 
 which the others are generated and in which they are 
 occasionally included, in proportion as we mix with 
 the world, and as it can never be destroyed till man is. 
 familiar witli every depravity, therefore it is the per- 
 vading passion of pastoral opera, from the rustic not 
 liaving an opportunity of being inflamed with the 
 lujinberless objects of desire, which glut the imagi* 
 nation of the inhabitants of a city, and often deaden 
 their sense of pure affection; consequently the coun- 
 try man possesses an untainted affection, and pur- 
 sues his object of idolatry with the solicitude of 
 honourable love, accompanied with all those little 
 tricks and jealousies which attend Cupid's Festive 
 Scene, without a base thought of ensnaring female 
 lionour: of these simple materials of innocent 
 love, &c. Operas are generally composed, and being 
 mixed with appropriate humour and tbe dialect of 
 the country, where the scene is supposed to lie; 
 aided also with poetry, and the sister arts, pre- 
 sent to our view a combination of effects highly 
 gratifying to the senses. 
 
 There are also Operas whose personages are of a 
 higher class of refinement, and shew the manners 
 and luxurous habits oF the East, as well as of other ] 
 countries, the effect oF which we noticed under the 
 general term Drama. 
 
 The fourth branch of the Drama is paintings 
 without which a Play would lose much of its im- 
 "portance ; an appropiate scene must always unite 
 
( 23 ) 
 
 probability to the language of the piece/and as parti- 
 cuUir countries differ in their physical ornaments as 
 well as works of art, it is therefore necessary to give 
 a Play a proper dress of Scenery. For instance, it 
 would be highly laughable to see English cottages 
 shewn, to convey an idea of African huts, and the 
 view of a country town, for the city of Venice, 
 or a Greek temple represented by the remains of a 
 gothic church. These things even to the nicest 
 minutiae, should be attended to in our London 
 Theatres, as the accuracy of architectural descrip- 
 tion, goes a great way to illustrate either the great- 
 ness or poverty of the place, at the period of his- 
 tory, when the scene of the Play either did, or is 
 supposed to have taken place; architecture also 
 shews the civilization of the inhabitants; as the fine 
 arts never flourish in the bed of barbarism. 
 
 It is not our intention to enlarge on this part of 
 the subject, as it principally operates to enforce the 
 effects of the other parts of the Drama, and render 
 the Exhibition a perfect picture of the poet's off- 
 spring; however, it must be observed a fine clear 
 expanse of country, judiciously blended with an- 
 cient structures composed from the Classic pictures 
 of Claude or Povsmi, fill the mind with the action* 
 of those men, to whom we are indebted for a maga- 
 zine of valuable learning, and whose efforts in a 
 pnee glorious country, still continue the ornaments 
 of a British nation, and the finer subjects of our 
 study; therefore Scenes composed by an able artist 
 of themselves, lead the mind to a series of tliinking 
 on the labour and energy of many a noble Roman, 
 pr to the iDfamy of those Emperprs whose depravity 
 
( 24 ) 
 
 paved the way to the total abolition of a great peo- 
 ple, and whose fine relics of art, now remain as the 
 mouldering moniunentsof monsters whose degeneracy 
 caused their destruction, therefore that art which 
 allures the mind to subjects where the happiness of 
 mankind is concerned, bv revertins: to the former 
 actions of either the above, or our own country, 
 tends to abandon from the sensory, those loose gay 
 and improper thoughts which accompany it when 
 unemployed, consequently a Well arranged Scene is 
 another advantage to the moral use of a Theatre. 
 
 Many divines have allowed that the artists of the 
 Italian school, have done much for the promulga- 
 tion of the scriptures, by making them the favourite 
 subjects of their study, and giving a masterly illus- 
 tration of the sacred page. 
 
 " When I look (says the Guardian) upon JRcp- 
 'phad's picture of our Saviour appearing to his Dis- 
 ciples after his resurrection, I cannot but think the 
 just disposition of that piece, has in it the force of 
 many volumes on the subject; the Evangelists are 
 easily distinguished from the rest, by a passionate zeal 
 ai.d love u hich the painter has thrown in their faces ; 
 the huddled group of those who stand most distant 
 are admirable representations of men, abashed with 
 their late unbelief and hardness of heart, and such 
 endeavours as this of Raphael and of all men, not 
 called to the altar are collateral helps, not to be des- 
 pised by the ministers of the gospel." — vol. 1. p, 1 14. 
 
 Surely then those Scenes which exhibit a castle, 
 ten) pie, or any dignified place of action or residence, 
 with the advantage of the language and action of 
 llie Dramatic personages, though the Scenes ar^ 
 
( 25 ) 
 
 inferior in point of pencilling, yet they are strongly 
 effective in riveting the mind to some important 
 lesson of human wisdom. 
 
 In a London Theatre particular attention should 
 be paid to the uniformity of its parts, as it is an of- 
 fence to the eye, to see an elegant house contrasted 
 by the meanness of an ill composed Scene. The pre- 
 sent drop Scene at CoventGarden, though wellpainted^ 
 does not convey an idea above an old farm-house, 
 and a clump of trees, or a sportman's residence. And 
 however pleasing the sports of the field are to En- 
 glishmen, yet at best a nobleman can always be ex- 
 celled in the art of killing game, by his clown, or 
 game-keeper ; and as this art does not exceed the 
 capacity of a dog's power, therefore a Scene only 
 expressive of such a subject let down between the 
 acts, as a corresponding aid to the gaiety of the 
 Theatre, is by no means calculated to gratify reflec- 
 tion through the optical medium of sense, from its 
 uninteresting composition; we do not disapprove 
 of it as a Scene, where mere rusticity is necessary to 
 be shewn, but consider it as inapplicable to the si-^ 
 tuation of a drop, having no affinity to the lustre of 
 the house. The former drop which is a landscape 
 intermixed with ruins, and the figure of a Sphinx, 
 has greater claims to notice as it is more appro- 
 priate to ornamental structure. The drop Scene * 
 at Drury Lane, corresponds with the dignity and 
 grandeur of the House, and that range of co- 
 lumns with a tasteful display of the sculptor's 
 
 * This Scene is taken from the works of Paranesi, in which there 
 is an inexhaustible source of architectural beauty, highly valuable t© 
 rfec artist of a Theatris, 
 
(26) 
 
 art, allures the mind to wander through those delight- 
 ful mazes of science, which raise images of human 
 ability, delectable to the fancy. Any subject that 
 will lead to the recollection of a monarch, whose 
 virtues have endeared him to the bosom of English- 
 men, must afford us an interesting reflection on the 
 individual and collective liberty and happiness of a 
 British people. 
 
 But even that subject may not go a sufficient 
 length for the full gratification of intellectual enjoy- 
 ment, particularly necessary at this moment. The 
 Scene at Covent Garden Theatre containing the 
 arms of his majesty, might have been rendered more 
 effective in point of dignity and interest, than it now 
 is, if the composition had embraced a portrait of the 
 king, suspended .with an appropriate allegory, over 
 which the national arms might have been tastefully 
 placed, or his statue represented with a rich land- 
 scape, and a dark but grand aeriel distance, in 
 the fore ground of which the goddesses of com- 
 merce and the arts, might be gracefully displayed 
 paying homage to their illustrious patron, [with if 
 necessary] the arms on the pedestal, and we feel 
 confident in observing that a Scene of this descrip- 
 tion well designed and executed, would make one 
 of the grandest drop Scenes that ever was offered to 
 public notice ; and if we do not presume too much, 
 it would prove highly attractive of public admiration: 
 indeed the subject would afford scope for the mas- 
 terly conception of our first historical painters, from 
 whose pencil a picture of grandeur and sublimity 
 might cocrie illustrative of the artist's genius, and 
 the virtue, wisdom, and greatness, of the first mo- 
 narch in the world : in our humble conception, the 
 
C 27 ) 
 
 Statue should approach the colossal order, the arts 
 personified in nearly the size of adult life, and grace- 
 fully arranged round the pedestal, holding the me- 
 dallions of those men who have been patronized by 
 His Majesty, such as captain Cook, Herschel, with 
 every appropriate circumstance that would indicate 
 the encouragement the king has given to the talent 
 of the country : on each side the pedestal as a sup- 
 port, might be placed Hercules and Minerva, illus- 
 trative of strength and wisdom ; the figures should 
 be all flesh colour, except Hercules and Minerva, 
 which would better correspond in colour with the 
 stone pedestal ; the perspective should display a grand 
 gloom, not only to give force to the fore ground, 
 but as it would better suit the sublimity of the sub- 
 ject, in which the artist's fancy might tastefully 
 place a temple to shew the happy residence of the 
 arts. Such a picture of a beloved monarch who is 
 the idol of his people, would fill the spectator's mind 
 with the richest treat of mental pleasure, while be- 
 holding an union of perfections in one object, either 
 as a king, husband, or a father ; this is not mentioned 
 to attach any censure to the artist of that house, as 
 it often happens in Theatres, that the genius of the 
 painter is not consulted, but fettered by the Mana- 
 ger's mandate or author's whim. Mr. Phillips, from 
 whose pencil many excellent Scenes have come, has 
 displayed much taste in the general improvements 
 of the Co vent Garden House; such a Scene, the 
 outline of which we have suggested, would be also 
 a tribute of respect to the august personage'^ whose 
 
 * In the observations we have made on the Scenery of Covent 
 Garden Theatre, we wish it to be understood that Mr. Harris's judg- 
 
( 28 ) 
 
 patronage lias been of infinite service to the English 
 Stage, in destroying the malignant but empty abuse, 
 of the lower order of tub preachers. 
 
 We have not mentioned these defects for the 
 pleasure of finding faulty but with a view to in- 
 
 tnent or attention to the Royal Faniily is not at all implicated, as it; 
 is a notorious truth, that chls gentleman has ever been anxious to 
 shew his esteem for, and attention to their gratification, aud has em- 
 braced on every occasion, any plan that has been suggested for the 
 increase of public convenience or entertainment. 
 
 It is notour intention to besprinkle Mr. Harris with fulsome panegyric, 
 yet we believe few Managers ever exceeded him in the expenditure of 
 money to accommodate public taste ; and we have met with no one 
 in the history of managerial power, who has displayed so much li- 
 berality to those under his employ as this gentleman. There are many 
 philanthropic and unparalleled acts of kindness, but little known to 
 the public, which distinguish his enlarged mind. 
 
 Among the many recent instances we beg leave to mention this, that 
 the receipt of the House on Mr. Cook's benefit did not equal the ex- 
 pences of the night ; but to the pleasing surprise of this justly ad- 
 mired Performer, the Manager sent him the amount of the sum taken, 
 with a discharge of all the expences attending his unsuccessful benefit, 
 which amounted to upwards of one hundred and sixty pounds. 
 
 On Mr. Kemble becoming a proprietor, and acting Manager of 
 Covent Garden House, Mr. Harris signified to Mr. Lewis in the most 
 delicate and handsome terms, that the salary he had received for se- 
 veral years as Acting Manager, in addition to his weekly stipend for 
 professio.al exertion, should be continued as an -acknowledgment of 
 his great talent and past services, notwithstanding the new arrange- 
 ments of the Theatre devolved the managerial duty on Mr. Kemble. 
 A still more recent act of liberality is known to have accompanied the 
 failure of Mr. Reynold's Comedy of Three Per Cents. The author in a 
 fit of despair, wrote to Mr. Harris the following morning, expressing 
 a hope that he would not think less of his future efforts, in conse- 
 quence of the death of his ill-fated offspring. The answer returned by 
 Mr. Harris, contained a delicate assurance that tlie fate of the author's 
 Comedy had not lessened his opinion of Mr. Reynold's abilities, and 
 concluded with begging his acceptance of an enclosed two hundred 
 pound bank note. 
 
 These are not all the traits of a noble mind we could record, but as 
 th^y more properly belong to the biographer's graver to delineate, we. 
 therefore beg leave to refer those who may wish to peruse a correct 
 portrait of this gentleman's mind and h^^bits, to the PubliQ Ohariictcrs 
 Qi 1803. 
 
( 29 ) 
 
 crease as much as possible the dignity of a London 
 Theatre, as a Scene being merely pretty, is in other 
 terms a composition of trifling import. And we 
 know that the mind is never affected with useful re- 
 flection and real pleasure, without a potent cause; 
 therefore the auditory part of the house, when shut 
 in, during the usual intervals of the performance, 
 should appear in every part, a Scene of the most per- 
 fect splendour. 
 
 The next and last feature of the Drama is the per- 
 formers costume, which is necessary to distinguish, 
 and heighten character, and it must be allowed that 
 dress is a powerful aid to the poet's offspring ; this 
 too has another advantage in exciting a curiosity, to 
 know something of the disposition and habits of 
 those people, who appear in such a widely different 
 dress from their countrymen, consequently it is pro- 
 ductive of enquiring, and leads to a knowledge of 
 the history of different nations. We have no doubt 
 but Sheridan's Pizarro has from the pompous dress of 
 RoUa, induced many persons to read the history of 
 America, who might have otherwise dissipated their 
 time in the low amusements of the town ; and the 
 delight they have felt in taking a view of the progres- 
 sive state of the human mind, in the new world, 
 has allured them to other enquiries of the same 
 nature, which must expand the mfnd, polish their 
 habits, and keep them from that vortex of infamy and 
 drunkenness, which thoughtless ignorance and vici- 
 ous company lead to. The Stage with so many ad- 
 vantages, ought to be considered as a great national 
 school of moral instruction, and is no doubt highly 
 productive of good. Tl^ people being allured with- 
 
(30) 
 
 in its walls, under the most pleasing inducements a» 
 the eye, the ear, mind and heart ; are roused inta 
 full play by the richness of Scenic drapery, the de- 
 lights of melody, sentiment in all the graces of diction, 
 and the force of passion displayed in all its forms; 
 these artfully blended keep the mind alive to the 
 moral duties, of life, and the perfection and wisdom 
 of him to whom we are indebted for the sense of such 
 duties : the finer thoughts of the mind, do not ac- 
 company men in a common intercourse with each 
 other, and are driven from the memory in all con- 
 vivial meetings of the lower orders of society ; but 
 are produced and brought into action in a Theatre, 
 consequently it not only lias a moral but a political 
 use, in softening the brutal part of our nature, and 
 disseminating knowledge which tends to secure the 
 liberty of the subject, by restraining the passions 
 under the dominion of reason, and while the people 
 continue to admire intellectual worth and virtuous 
 habits, there is no danger of becoming the dege-^ 
 Derate and feeble slaves of a foreign enemy. 
 
 As national attire differs greatly at various pe- 
 riods and in different countries, therefore a Play 
 receives much strength when the Performers are 
 judicious in thp selection of characteristic habili- 
 ments, for their respective condition in the Drama. 
 There is but litilc danger of being incorrect in dress- 
 ing a modern Play, yet much taste is required to 
 give a strong contrast to each character, in order 
 to diversify the whole. 
 
 It is highly necessary when a Drama is founded 
 on the Greek or Roman history, to consult the bio- 
 graphy oi* the person to be represented, iu order to 
 
( 31 ) 
 
 acquire a perfect knowledge of his character and 
 habits in public life^ and also the state of societ}' at 
 the time he lived, which many Dramatists have ofien 
 wandered from, or not clearly elucidated in their 
 Plays. Shakespear has taken this liberty with several 
 of his historical characters, by a violation of historical 
 narrative*, but which may have been warrantable for 
 the importance of the plot. To come at a perfect 
 knowledge of a celebrated Greek or Roman, after 
 tracing his public conduct, it is necessary to follow 
 him to his couch to be acquainted with all those 
 traits of mind which illustrate the character of the 
 man; from this view of him we have an opportunity 
 of comparing his public duty, with private demean- 
 our; it is here we see the weakness of our nature, for 
 he that was Demosthenes in the Senate, when he is 
 domesticated and has thrown off the public cha- 
 racter, frequently becomes a child accompanied with 
 all the little follies belonging to the weakest mortal 
 in nature ; other men are stern, morose, and tyran- 
 nical in private life, but to the public eye every 
 thing that can beget esteem and popular admiration. 
 Thus by observing the contrasted situation of the 
 man, we are better able to understand his strength 
 
 ♦ It may be necessary to obser/e that it has not been considered a 
 defect, where the poet has differed from the historical narrative of the 
 hero's action. The Drama consults not the truth of what any parti- 
 cular person did say or do, but only the general nature of such quali- 
 ties, which renders more particularly hero's in Tragedy allegorical per- , 
 sons. A very limited action of a king, warrior, &c. would affbrd of 
 itself no interest when Dramatised, unless the genius of the poet pro- 
 duced a succession of incidents illustrative of the hern's mind, under 
 various impressions, in which opposite shades ot character produced a 
 series of natural events, and thus artfully end with some useful les- 
 son, j 
 
( 32 ) 
 
 of mincl, and have a more perfect conception how 
 to represent him either in the dignified scenes of 
 national duty, or in the relaxed moments of social 
 enjoyment. But without digressing any further 
 from the subject of dress, we have to observe that 
 bishop Potter has ably elucidated the private habits 
 and costume of the Greeks, and Kennett that of the 
 Komans, to shew more particularly the necessity of 
 attending to a propriety of dress. If an Actor was 
 to play the part of Cato, in a Vestis Splendidior, he 
 would get the laugh of the judicious ; and however 
 well he delivered the words of the poet, yet he would 
 be considered an ill read man, and but an ignorant 
 representative of the Roman patriot, as Cato ac- 
 cording to Plutarch, was dead to the pomp of ap- 
 parel and studied no ornament but the refinement of 
 his intellect. Sculpture and ancient historical pic- 
 tures are fine examples of dress, graceful attitudes 
 and dignified expression ; indeed they are everlasting 
 sources of useful wisdom to a performer. It gives 
 US infinite pleasure that the Stage of the present da}', 
 does not exhibit those grotesque and uncharacteristic 
 dresses which even lived with the immortal Garrick, 
 such as Playing a Roman or an early English cha- 
 racter in a large pcrri-zcig, or a full dress suit 
 of Charles the Il's day. Mr. Kemble has done 
 much in the reform of Stage attire ; some further 
 remarks will be made on appropriate dress, in our 
 reflections on the talents of Performers. 
 
 We have now taken a cursory view of the different 
 branches of the Drama, as to the eflect they have 
 on the mind of an audience, and the good they are 
 the instruments of producing in separate and coliec- 
 
{33 ) 
 
 live capacity, we will therefore take the liberty of 
 running a parallel between Theatrical Entertain- 
 ments and other fashionable diversions of our coun- 
 try. In all large cities, and indeed in the most 
 insignificant country town, the inhabitants resort 
 to some diversions unconnected with field sports ; 
 these often take the form, and bear the appellation 
 of an assembly. But as there is in general a greater 
 degree of temptation and allurement to vice, in the 
 capital of an empire than any other place, we will 
 therefore apply our reasoning more particularly to 
 the latter. Besides a Theatre, the principal diver- 
 sions of the metropolitans are assemblies^ musical 
 meetings, and masquerades. 
 
 In the first the sexes congregate to shew the 
 graces of person and the elegance of attire; the con- 
 sequent exchange of compliment and the recipro- 
 city of attention, which accompanies good breeding 
 naturally beget familiarity ; the passions then begin 
 to enslave reason, and the room soon resounds with- 
 nothing but the voluble tongue of fashionable 
 chit-chat. To interlard the festive scene with any 
 scrap of an EngHsh moral writer, would be consi- 
 dered inapplicable to the giddy moment, and get 
 the laugh of the circle it was heard in. What is 
 there then to check the fire of youthful imagination ; 
 the senses being only alive to the devotion of one 
 enchanting blaze of beauty, and often a life of peace- 
 ful bliss sacrificied to an evening's inconsiderate 
 joy ? These assembles are frequently composed of 
 the first characters in the country, yet they are but 
 human beings and liable to the common frailty of 
 nature ; and though we do not mean to attach the 
 
 F . 
 
( 34 ) 
 
 feature of vice to this gay entertainment of refined 
 personages, yet when paralleled with a Theatre for 
 moral usefulness, it must sink in impotence, like an 
 isicle before the sun. 
 
 A masquerade is nearly of the same species of 
 amusement, only that intrigue is facihtated in its 
 progress by the assistance of a mask ; this was once 
 the resort of men of great talent and refined hu- 
 mour, but of late years it has sunk into an as- 
 sembly of the lowest buffoonery, where barber's boys 
 and Mary-la-bonne nymphs constitute its principal 
 whim, and he appears the only wise man to be 
 found in the place who takes the money ; however, 
 we will not disgrace the name of a Theatre, by coiii-. 
 paring it with a glaring whirlpool of ignorant vice. 
 A concert is by no means an exceptionable species 
 of diversion, as the mind is engaged b}^ a combina- 
 tion of sounds, which have been generally arranged 
 by the best composers of all ages, and which are 
 often accompanied by words illustrative of scriptural 
 truth, and the sublimity of future existence; and 
 while the energy of this science is divinely playing 
 on the organ of sense, physically defect. ve is that 
 person whose mind would be engaged with the loose 
 pleasures of the town ; a concert therefore ought to 
 be considered a branch of and an aid to the Theatre. 
 
 A Theatre is certainly subject to evils, being made 
 a place of frequent assignation ; yet if there were no 
 pubhc places of entertainment for the British sub- 
 jects, our churches would become the secret, but 
 defiled temples of masked libertines, whose concealed 
 assignations under the sacred roof would tend to 
 lessen tlie reverence due to our national rehgion^ 
 
(55 ) 
 
 Notwithstanding a Theatre is a place of resort for 
 the Paphian goddess, the majority of the audience 
 however are in general the most respectable part of /^^ 
 the public, and the hive from which the frail sister- 
 hood procure their honey. It is therefore wealth that 
 will produce an abundance of this evil in any other 
 place besides a Theatre; for Cyprian beauty would not 
 frequent a Play House, if the congregated riches of the 
 young and gay did not convene and encourage them, 
 consequently aTheatre cannot be accountable for the 
 conduct of its patrons and supporters. But here the 
 mind becomes active from its passiveness to the in- 
 terest of the Scenic representation which animates the 
 soul to reflection, and stimulates us to an exertion of 
 the mental powers, and the honourable exercise of 
 some moral and useful pursuit, no other place of ' 
 diversion would be so effective to produce. ' \ 
 
 It is impossible to adduce a stronger proof of a 
 Theatre being an establishment of national utility, 
 and a place of resort for the refined pleasures of a 
 polished people, than to name one for its patron and 
 admirer, who is a monarch singularly distinguished 
 for every virtue that can adorn the brow of royalty. In 
 addition also to the king's passion for Theatrical repre- 
 sentation, there is scarcely a nobleman in the king- 
 dom who is dead to the beauties of the Stage, and the 
 legislative body who frame laws for the preservation 
 of our morals, have not only made the profession of 
 a Player a legal pursuit, but those of both Houses 
 of Parliament, including the higher order of the 
 clergy, frequently relax in the important duties of 
 the State, by participating in the amusements of n 
 
( 36 ) 
 
 Theatre ; therefore those religious persons who often 
 condemn the frequenters of a Play House to eternal 
 damnation, should recollect that it is the peculiar 
 mildness of this government, which grants toleration 
 to the existence of religious sectaries ; and when they 
 take the liberty to condemn those persons to ever- 
 lasting torment, for the practice of an art which 
 they are quite unqualified to judge of, as well as 
 those who visit Theatrical Exhibitions, they fre- 
 quently libel those exalted characters to whom they 
 are indebted for the existence, and protection of 
 their particular and favorite system of worship. 
 
 Before we leave this subject, it will not be im- 
 proper to observe that those of the learned pro- 
 fessions, may shine and fill the highest situation in 
 the Slate, with minor requisites to what are neces- 
 sary for the professors of the Stage, as a man may 
 become an excellent lawyer^ statesman, physician, 
 or painter with* a deformed frame, unmeaning coun- 
 tenance, dissonant voice, and ungrateful mien, but 
 such defects would be an everlasting impediment to 
 the disciple of Thespis. Surely then he that par- 
 takes of nature's choicest gifts, and the graces of re- 
 finement, cannot be unworthy of admiration and re- 
 spect, particularly when accompanied with a moral 
 demeanour. It is therefore hard that the perfections 
 of nature enriched with accomplishments, should be 
 sunk in public esteem by the vulgar breath of slan- ' 
 der, from a person's merely being a Player, whose art 
 is the most difficult to excel in, and in which such a 
 combination of requisites are necessary to render a 
 Stage professor admirable. The ^reat attention 
 
( 37 ) 
 
 which has heen given of late years to Theatrical 
 gentlemen; by the first characters in the kingdom, 
 has rendered them more attentive to private charac- 
 ter ; vi'e therefore may venture to remark, that the 
 Stage of the present day has ornaments independent 
 of professional acquirments, in whom may be found 
 all the virtues that constitute moral excellence, 
 either as husbands_, fathers, or citizens; and who whea 
 in the exercise of professional duty, may be looked 
 up to and considered as so many pillars of the state, 
 , elucidating the doctrine of the moral code, for the 
 happy example of the British people. But to con- 
 clude, the best institution may be made the vehicle 
 of wickedness, when in the hands of depraved per-' 
 sons; indeed there is no science that may not be 
 converted to destroy, instead of benefiting mankind : 
 the knowledge of medicine is of inexpressible ser- 
 vice to society, but when administered by the ig- 
 norant or wicked, is often destructive. 
 
 The press is a glorious source of human wisdom, 
 yet it has occasionally disgorged the blasphemous 
 pages of an abandoned and licentious pen ; but ridi- 
 culous and unphilosophic would that person be, who 
 would recommend the annihilation of an art, from 
 its having been converted into an instrument of the 
 immoral. The St^ge has always kept pace with the 
 state of public morals, and therefore at various pe- 
 riods of history it has been offensive to the rigid mo- 
 ralist ; but while the people of this country continue 
 vigorous enthusiasts for the maintenance of their 
 religion, liberty, and the honour of the crown ; the 
 Stage must float on public favour^ as the mirror of 
 
( 38 ) 
 
 a nation's virtue, and the enlightened and polished 
 school of a free people. 
 
 JljLaving analysed the various powers of the Scenic 
 art, and the moral consequences resulting from the 
 Stage, we shall now apply our remarks on the con- 
 struction and merit of the Dramas produced at the 
 present day, and also to what ratio of improvement 
 the Stage is capable of being raised^ without an in- 
 jury to its pecuniary advantages. 
 
 As we observed in page the 12th, that the Plays now 
 offered to public notice, gave pictures of English 
 courage to animate a love of country, and its happy 
 government; yet to rest entirely on complimentary 
 allusions to our national comforts, will not constitute 
 a good Drama, and we are sorry to observe that 
 many Plays of a recent date have had no other 
 merit ; and only consisted of a string of lugged-'in 
 compliments to British valour, without which they 
 must have been consigned after the first night to 
 endless oblivion ; to enumerate all these abortions 
 of the brain, of which nothing but interest could have 
 produced them managerial protection, would be un- 
 necessarily dwelling on trifles which had an early 
 death, and have been forgotton without regret. 
 There are but few Dramatic writers at this epoch, 
 whose works will be either admired or even thought 
 of at a future age, except quoted by some historian 
 to illustrate the degenerate texture of public taste in 
 this reign ; and in the writer*s reflections on the sub- 
 ject, he must deplore the ill use that has been made 
 of so valuable a vehicle of national wisdom^ as a 
 
'*sm 
 
 ( 39 ) 
 
 Theatre, or sacrifice truth to compliment Mse taste; 
 and future ages will wonder how an enlightened 
 people, amidst a general diffusion of every species of 
 knowledge, and the living example of fine Dramatic 
 writing, could suffer themselves to be insulted with 
 those brainless eflfusions of folly, which several au- 
 thors have arrogantly styled Comedy. The favourite 
 Roman poet has begun his epistle to the Pisos, 
 
 Humano capiti cervicem pictor equinam, 
 Jungere si velit, et varias inducere plinnas 
 Undeqxie coUatis memlrisy ut tiirp'iter atrum 
 Desinat in piscem mzilier formosa supene ; 
 Spectatum admissi risum teneatis amicif 
 
 To which we beg leave to subjoin Earl Roscom- 
 mon's imitation of the poet : 
 
 ** If in a picture Piso you should see 
 
 ** A handsome woman ivith aJisWs tail, 
 
 •* Or a man^s liead upon a horse's neck, 
 
 ** Or limbs of beasts of the most differ exit kinds, 
 
 ** Covered ivith feathers of all sorts of birds, 
 
 *' Wbvld you not laugh, and think Oie painter madf'''* 
 
 This we consider an applicable description of many 
 of the Dramas that have infested the Stage, within 
 these few years, which have been made up of all 
 the unnatural incongruities that insanity and folly 
 could engender, in the unhappy moments of their 
 parents' delirium. But anterior to our remarks 
 on the authors of the day, we shall take the liberty 
 to offer a few preliminary observations on the nature 
 of Dramatic composition, as it has been generally 
 understood by the best writers on the subject. Co- 
 medy having been some time the more fashionable 
 vehicle of entertainment than Tragedy, we shall 
 therefore begin our remarks on the nature of its 
 structure; in doing this we do not consider ourselves 
 bound to give an account of its origin, the indelica- 
 cy of its allusions or the scurrilous shafts of slander, 
 
(40) 
 
 it often levelled against the magistrates of its native 
 country, Athens; but merely take it up according 
 to the best examples of English composition. With- 
 out any formal definition, Comedy may be consi- 
 dered as a Dramatical composition exhibiting in a 
 natural and familiar manner, the infinitely various 
 passions and pursuits of mankind in the common 
 transactions of life; her province is also ridicule and 
 raillerv, and when these are judiciously conducted 
 and properly levelled, may be of singular use in cor- 
 recting the fashionable vices of the people. A vast 
 description of character comes within the embrace 
 of the Comic muse. Anciently her authority w^as 
 only allowed over vulgar personages, but for many 
 years the man of refinement and the peasant, fre- 
 quently come in a pleasing contact with each other, 
 and all the intermediate characters that are visible in 
 society, tend to increase the strength, and enhance 
 the delights of Comedy. 
 
 The public mind is always gratified with that 
 Drama, which contains a succession of lively inci- 
 dents; and when a judicious portion of elegance is 
 happily contrasted with the coarser features of the 
 piec^, the mind is then lifted into a pleasing en- 
 thusiasm ; consequently show and action appear the 
 primary sources of delight in all Theatrical enter- 
 tainments. When true manners and characters are 
 accurately preserved by an author of a Comedy, it 
 will go far to recommend his composition, though 
 otherwise artless and wanting grace or elegance of 
 diction, whereas we frequently see compositions un- 
 successful, though wrought and set off with pomp- 
 ous language, from being defective in tracing na- 
 ture. 
 
(41) 
 
 It may be expected that we should define the term 
 nature : in pur humble conception^ wa^wre is an equi- 
 vocal phrase, and of various and extensive import, 
 as a character which is natural in one Drama, may be 
 quite otherwise in another. To see Romeo make love 
 to a creature whom the poet had drawn deformed 
 in person, and wanting every grace and accomplish-^ 
 mentthat could inspire love in the bosom of a young 
 man of an eminent family in Verona> would only 
 produce ridicule and disgust, there being no cause 
 to generate the gentle passion of affection, in one 
 whose birth and situation gave him the means of in-^ 
 troduction to those females on whom nature and 
 art had lavished theii* choicest gifts. But this miser- 
 able female would not be improperly placed, when 
 the object of a peasant*s affection ; her situation as 
 sweetheart or wife, would then be consistent with 
 the natural order of things, her limitted charms 
 being on a level with the intellect, notions, and ha- 
 bits of her lover. The propriety of arranging cha- 
 racters in a Drama, with respect to connecting 
 elevated and dignified personages with those in vul- 
 gar life, may be further illustrated by an example in 
 painting. How strange would it appear in Raphael's 
 picture of the crucifixion of our Saviour, to see a 
 Flemish boor playing on a violin ! The introduction 
 of such a figure would scarcely accord with the in- 
 consistencies of Bassaru Yet the merry peasant out 
 of the festive picture of Teniers, is as natural as the 
 solemn group bewailing the death of our Saviour, 
 but when embodied in one subject quite otherwise. 
 
 To carry our elucidation of the term Nature either 
 in Tragedy or Comedy, by shewing the regularity of 
 
 a 
 
( 42 ) 
 
 some Plays, and the defects of others, is incompat- 
 ible with the Hmited extent of this work, and the 
 variety of subjects it is intended to embrace with 
 respect to the Stage. But we beg leave to call the 
 attention of our readers, to Gibber's Part of the Pro- 
 voked Husband *. Had Lady Townly been an in- 
 elegant person, void of the graces of high life, (for 
 here we except her follies) and the refinement of a 
 woman of fashion, the interest of the Scenes be- 
 tween her and Lord Townly would be unwortliy 
 notice, as their characters would be unnaturally con- 
 trasted, and lessen the dignity of his Lordship's si- 
 tuation, and turn what is now an interesting lesson 
 into a caricature of all Dramatic propriety, and the 
 
 • It has been laid down by the pen of fastidious criticism, that 
 •< all the Scenes that bring the family of the Wrongheads into ac- 
 tion, being ludicrous and farcical, agree very ill with the principal 
 Scenes displaying the severe and bitter expostulations between Lord 
 Townly and his Lady." 
 
 Here a question of some importance may be submitted for solution j 
 that is, how far may contrast be admitted in the Drama, particularly 
 Comedy, without a violation of the unities ? Contrasting hath been 
 found not only useful but necessary in painting, and such is the rela- 
 tion of this art with poetry, that the essential circumstances which 
 obtain in the one are generally found in a major or minor degree proper, 
 if not necessary, in the other : an opposition of characters is almost 
 indispensible in Comedy, insomuch that a fable will be found insipid 
 without it. If therefore in Corhedy a double plot can be so conducted 
 or the one be so interwoven with the other, that the unities shall in 
 ixo respect be violated, the requisites to please will be obtained. The 
 Comedy before us in our humble opinion is not so objectionable as the 
 remark of the critic goes to inforce, the distresses of the one family 
 approaching the dignified gravity of Tragedy, are happily contrasted 
 with the ludicrous impertinencies of the other, nor are the laws of the 
 Drama so far violated as to be offensive ; this piece carries an ample 
 and judicious portion of light and shade, which is not unacceptable to 
 an audience, being generally composed of youth and age ; those who 
 are in years will be pleased with the grave and monitorial part, while 
 the young and gay have an ample share of entertainment, from the 
 whimsical misfortunes of the ffrongheads. 
 
( 43 ) 
 
 natural connection of elevated life. If we go a 
 step further, what is it that constitutes the great in- 
 terest we take in the unhappy situation of Beverly 
 in the Gamester, but his being allied to a woman of 
 a noble soul, whose language breathes the sentiments 
 of a cultivated and feeling mind ? And what tends 
 to increase his distress to the audience, is her being 
 on an equality with him in the gifts of nature and 
 acquirements : but if she had been mean in mind 
 and person, and vulgar in sentiment and language, 
 his situation would not engage half the interest it at 
 present does, and instead of shedding the tear of 
 sympathy at his folly and accumulating misery, we 
 should rather rejoice to see a gambler fall a sacrifice 
 to the indulgence of a base and mercenary passion. 
 The whole and every limb of this Tragedy evinces 
 the author's great knowledge of Dramatic action, 
 and his having been a fine observer of nature and 
 manners. An industrious enquiry into the best 
 writers, on the nature of Dramatic composition, will 
 materially assist a fertile mind, in the formation of 
 a good Play, as the ancient rules laid down by 
 Aristotle, have been acknowledged by several 
 erudite men to be founded in nature ; and do not, 
 as many thoughtless persons have said, fetter ge- 
 nius ; on the contrary, they give an artist the 
 power to select the beauties of nature, and reject the 
 useless and inapplicable parts of her multifarious 
 workmanship. In order to support this position, we 
 beg leave to quote part of a discourse delivered on 
 painting at the Royal Academy in the year 1769. 
 ^' But whatever may be our proportion of success, 
 of this we may be sure, that the present institution 
 
will at least contribute to advance onr knowledge of 
 the arts ; and bring us nearer to that ideal excellence 
 which it is the lot of genius always to contemplatCji 
 and never attain. — Every opportunity should there-» 
 fore be taken to discountenance that false and vuK 
 gar opinion^ that rules are the fetters of genius; they 
 are fetters only to men of no genius^ as the armour 
 which upon the strong becomes an ornament^ and a 
 defence upon the weak and misshapen, turns into a 
 load and cripples the body, which it was made to 
 protect." 
 
 To be able to form a good Play, even with ^ 
 perfect knowledge of the rules, and the possession 
 of the best thoughts on the art of composition, the 
 artist must be able to mould his mind into various 
 modes of thinking, in order to give appropriate Ian-? 
 guage and sentiment to each character, but this is 
 a task that few authors are sufficient observers of 
 nature to be able to execute. ; as he who is drawing 
 his figure must be able to metamorphose his coun- 
 tenance an'<J thought into the very feeling, passion,^ 
 and sentiment, that corresponds with the situation oF 
 the Dramatic personage, who is the subject of his 
 pen; and the infinite variety of thoughts, and appro- 
 priate action which must accompany hislabour,while 
 moulding a Dranialic gentleman, miser, clown, &c. 
 require a great portion of talent, opposite powers 
 pf feeling and judgment, in order to enable him to 
 give a proper shape to his character, with a richness 
 of colouring, and delicacy of shades. The possession 
 of this Art is highly necessary to ensure attention an(^ 
 admiratioa tp the type of nature's image. 
 
( 45 ) 
 
 *' But to write Plays ! why, 'tis a bold pretence, 
 ** To judgment, breeding, wit, and eloquence. 
 «» Nay more, for they must look within to find 
 «* Those secret turns of nature in the mind. 
 ** Without this part in vain would be the whole, 
 ** And but a body all without a soul." 
 
 Duke of Buckingham'' s Essay on Poetry. 
 
 An author should not be satisfied with merely look- 
 ing into his own mind, to see what he should think 
 on such an occasion; he must go a step farther, and 
 twist himself into the passion, quality, and temper of 
 the character he is to draw ; that is, he must assume 
 the manners he imparts to his Dramatic Personage, 
 and then observe, what sentiments, thoughts, pas^ 
 sions, 8cc. such an effort of the mind will produce. 
 
 Burke, in his Sublime and Beautiful, gives strength 
 to this position, in his paper on Physiognomy. 
 
 Mr. Spon, in his Recherches d'Antiquite, gives us 
 a curious story of the celebrated Physiognomist Cam- 
 panella : '^ This man, it seems, had not only made 
 very accurate observations on human faces, but was 
 very expert in mimicking such as were any way re- 
 markable. When he had a mind to penetrate into the 
 inclinations of those he had to deal with, he compos- 
 ed his face and gesture, and his whole body as nearly 
 as he could in the exact similitude of the person he 
 intended to examine; then carefully observed what 
 turn of mind he seemed to acquire by this change, 
 so that, says my author, he was able to enter into the 
 disposition and thougbis of people, as effectually as 
 if he had changed into the very man, — I have often 
 observed, that in mimicking the looks and gestures 
 of angry, or placid, or frightened, or daring men, I 
 }iave involuntarily found my mind turned to that 
 passion whose appearance I endeavoured to imitate ; 
 
( 46) 
 
 nay, I am convinced it is hard to avoid it; though 
 one strive to separate the passion from its corres- 
 pondent gestures." 
 
 It may perhaps be said^ that this is a talent that not 
 one man in a thousand is in possession of; but the at- 
 tainment of such an art is within the compass of most 
 men, by a judicious attention to the various charac- 
 ters visible in society, till the contemplation of persons 
 under different impressions of joy, misery, penury, 
 anger, &c. will become not only a highly pleasing, 
 but an easy acquirement. Most of the whimsical cha- 
 racters in Hogarth's Pictures, are portraits of per- 
 sons he observed in various situations in the metro- 
 polis ; had his pictures been composed entirely from 
 fancied characters, they would not be so replete with 
 that rich and natural arrangement of figures, which 
 at present they exhibit, from having been made up 
 of persons visible in the common w alks of life. 
 
 When in the act of arranging and imparting his 
 whimsical groups to canvas, he threw aside all idea of 
 the painter, and became the distinct individual his 
 pencil gave form to, and animated with the appear- 
 ance of every appropriate passion, and concomitant 
 gesture. Ft is almost unnecessary to observe, that it 
 was this Art which has immortali2ed his name, and 
 stamped value on his works. 
 
 It is evident Shakespeare had the ability of be- 
 coming the very character he was writing, from the 
 accuracy with which his pencil has delineated all his 
 personages, without enumerating the various oppo- 
 site portraits his genius animated for the admiration 
 of succeeding ages. 
 
 We shall content ourselves with his Falstaff;, which 
 
( 47 ) 
 
 Was never drawn from the oddity of any one indivi- 
 dual, but from uniting in one character all the ap- 
 propriate ridiculous fellows he had observed in his 
 ordinary intercourse with men^ all of whom he em- 
 bodied in one character. This seems to have been 
 Garrick's opinion, from this very just expression in his 
 Ode, '' A comic world in one,^^ and he is perhaps the 
 only author who could conduct the character of 
 FalstafF throughout with so much propriety. 
 
 With respect to the difference of characters in a 
 Drama, it may be observed, that the uniform charac- 
 ter, what the French call Caractere uni, requires 
 more delicacy than characters marked by eccen- 
 tricities ; more art is requisite in drawing the cha- 
 racter of TowNLY, or a Manly, than exhibiting the 
 extravagancies of the Wrongheads, So in painting, 
 (if we err not) greater art and delicacy are requisite 
 in delineating a young and beautiful countenance, 
 than one advanced in years, in which stronger lines 
 and coarser features facilitate the labour of the ar- 
 tist. 
 
 In forming a highly finished portrait of an accom- 
 plished woman, in whose person the artist should in- 
 tend to display the perfection of the Venus de Medi- 
 cis, and whose soul and manners would be required 
 to draw admiration from the most scrupulous and cor- 
 rect eye of nature and art, it would be necessary not 
 merely to copy any one particular celebrated beauty, 
 but to imitate the example of the famous Greek pain- 
 ter ZeuxiSfWho wishing to combine in one object all 
 that was beautiful, brought together the several excel- 
 lencies of the many living beauties whom he had seen, 
 joined to all the concomitant heightenings his tasteful 
 
(48) . 
 
 fancy could with propriety suggest, whieh gave lirs 
 pencil the power to display the grand conception of 
 his mind, in the formation of a figure ilhistrative of all 
 that could delight the eye, and animate the coolest 
 sensibility into wonder and admiration. So in draw-* 
 ing a Dramatic portrait of an accomplished female^ 
 even her follies or vices should not be accompanied 
 with the most faint tint of vulgarity 5 but the failings 
 of her nature ought to be characterized with dignity 
 thought and action, and elegance of diction. 
 
 We now come to the nature of Dramatic Artifice^, 
 which includes every thing that will generate sur- 
 prize to the spectators from the sentiments and bu- 
 siness of the scene producing a contrary effect to 
 what they expected, and which not only excites 
 their curiosity to know the result of the progres- 
 sive p^rts of the Drama, but adds greatly to the 
 pleasure of an audience, from being deceived in 
 iheir supposed conclusion of the scene. This art 
 in the management of a plot is very necessary 
 in order to rivet the attention of the spectators^ 
 otherwise they will, in the first or second act, 
 discover the drift of the Poet's story, and the nature 
 of its termination ; and that Fable which ought to be 
 gradually unraveled with pleasing and surprizing in- 
 cidents to gratify the mind, and keep the passions m 
 a lively agitation, will, without Scenic artifice, send 
 the audience to sleep. No English Poet has, in our 
 humble opinion, surpassed Ben Johnson in the na- 
 ture of working up his materials ; he has displayed so 
 much invention in the contrivance of his plot; and 
 so much art in the arrangement of the incidents of his 
 intrigues; that the mind of his auditors is constantly 
 
( 49 ) 
 
 kept in an agree^bl^ suspense^ or rather conducted 
 through a labyrinth, whose variety pleases without 
 perplexing. It is almost unnecessary to enumerate 
 the happy efforts of his creative genius; but his Eve^ 
 ry Man out of Humoury Fox, Alchemist, and the 
 Silent JVomaUj are master pieces of intrigue and in- 
 vention ; the spectator is every moment surprised in 
 the most agreeable manner, and nothing can equal 
 his solicitude to know the denouement, but his sur- 
 prise at the manner in which the Poet brings it 
 about. 
 
 There are many Comedies in which we cannot 
 complain of the language, or of any impropriety of 
 the incidents, transgression of, or defect in the laws of 
 the Drama, nor of the tendency of them, neverthe- 
 less having read them, or seen them acted, we wish 
 not to see or read them more. In others stronsc and 
 just delineations of human nature attract our atten- 
 tion> and meet with applause, though irregularly 
 conducted. Were the merits of these two joined in 
 one Dramatic Composition, that Piece would be 
 highly conducive to public gratification. 
 
 Before we conclude our remarks on Comedy, we 
 shall take the liberty of considering the nature of 
 ethics, which ought to form the primary object in all 
 Dramatic composition. Cervantes has justly ob- 
 served, in his remarks on the Spanish Drama, ^^that 
 a man after seeing a good and well contrived Come- 
 dy, would go away pleased and instructed with the 
 serious part, surprised at the plot, improved by the 
 language, warned by the frauds, informed by the ex- 
 amples, disgusted at vice, and in love with virtue; 
 for a good Play must work all these effects upon hiin 
 H 
 
(50) 
 
 that sees it, though he he ever so rude and unthink- 
 ing. And it is absohitely impossible but that a Play 
 that has all these qualifications, must please, divert, 
 satisfy, and content beyond that which wants them." 
 Those Plays whose only object is to entertain, re- 
 gardless of some useful lesson, must be the barren 
 effort of a little and thoughtless mind, and when re- 
 presented, an insult to the audience, and a prostitu- 
 tion of the National Theatre, which should never be 
 converted to a useless purpose*. The more, there- 
 
 * It may be a question not unworthy solution, as to what are the 
 Entertainments that degrade a regular Stage. We do not hesitate to 
 ■pronounce that Pantomime is a species of entertainment of the most: 
 worthless nature, and ought not to be suffered to disgrace the Boards 
 of either Theatre. 
 
 The common but defective reason generally assigned by the Mana- 
 gers of the London Houses, is, that Children and Holiday Folks expect 
 to be treated with Pantomime at Christmas ; it is, therefore, necessary 
 to comply with the desire of that portion of the public, whose occupa- 
 tions will not permit their absence from business at any other time but 
 the one allowed by custom. 
 
 Let us try the strength of this excuse for the exhibition of unmeart- 
 ing trash. With respect to Children, we believe there is not one Pre- 
 ceptor in a hundred so weak as to recommend to his Pupils the love of 
 Pantomime, and the unmeaning humour of low buflboncry. What- 
 ever comes from the advice of a school-master to those under his care, 
 with respect to the Stage, are generally the perusal and admiration of the 
 works of the best Dramatic Poets, in which he points out to youth those 
 passages that contain beauty of thought, sweetness of diction, and ani- 
 mating examples of virtue and courage, to stimulate a love of those qua- 
 lities which dignified many exalted characters of antiquity. Nay, selec- 
 tions ofthe most admired passages from Shakespeare and others,have been 
 published for the use of seminaries, consequently boys during their re- 
 cess from study, go to the Theatre with their min.ds pregnant with the 
 language and sentiments of those Plays which were the subjects of 
 their contemplation during the hours of relaxation at school ; and 
 when in a Theatre the performance and stage effect of the piece adds 
 strength to the beauty of their favourite Drama, and induces their re- 
 peated perusal of that play which appears to them in quite a new light 
 after represeniation. But a Pantomime being of a loose and uncon- 
 nected texture, wherein there is neither language, sentiment, nor part, 
 which they can imitate, from not being able to find a rule to diiect 
 their action, or a motive to stimulate exertion ; therefore it only please* 
 
( 51 ) 
 
 fore, we consider the comparative situation of hu- 
 man beingSj in the various occupations of life^ virtue 
 
 them for the moment. It is to be also recollected, that Children hav- 
 ing only a limited indulgence of time for the gratification of their plea- 
 sures, wish to frequent the Theatre as often as possible, without being 
 particular as to the entertainments of the evening ; and as there arc 
 only two Theatres open at the above period of the year, consequently 
 they have no choice, but must submit to the Bill of fare presented to 
 them. The Theatre on this ground would not lose money by keeping 
 up its dignity in the representation of a regular Drama and Farce. 
 
 The Holiday Folks are in some measure placed in a similar situation 
 with respect to their limited pleasure, and rather than not go to a 
 Theatre once a year, would attend any Play and Farce ; therefore the 
 Managers might keep the people alive to the beauties of genuine com- 
 position, from which they would receive the most valuable lessons on 
 what constitutes public happiness and social intercourse. There is in 
 truth no just excuse for the prostitution of a regular Theatre to perform- 
 ances which though not of an immoral nature, yet from their lightnesg 
 and frivolity, tend toenervate thePublic mind, and vitiate the appetite for 
 those pure sources of pleasure and instruction which the Stage has the 
 ability to disseminate. There being three houses open nearnine months 
 in a year, which are licensed for no other purpose than Dumb Shew, 
 and the tasteless amusements of the giddy and thoughtless, therefore 
 the admirers of that species of diversion may be amply satisfied at 
 Astley's, Hughes's, or Sadler's Wells. 
 
 Passing over the contemptible Pantomime which Mr. Harris gave 
 the public last year, to revert merely to the mass of absurdity pre- 
 sented this Christmas, is quite enough for our purpose ; and in our 
 analysis of this wretched vehicle of amusement, we may have oc- 
 casion to mention Mr. Dibdin, whose talents in another place will 
 come under our remark, but are sorry to observe, that we do not think 
 things of this nature suit the genius of this Gentleman ; and much as 
 yte may be inclined to compliment some of his efforts in Dramatic 
 composition, we should shamefully sacrifice truth to attach any credit 
 to his Pantomimic labours. The short period of four monlhs was dedi- 
 cated to design, shape, and bring to perfection, the lubberly body and 
 limbs of this unnatural stage monster, and a thousand pounds expend- 
 ed befoie the progenitpr, Dibdin, gave it into the arms of Public care, 
 who properly disgusted with its awkward proportions, unconnected 
 symmetry, and the coarse ancV-vulgar features of this brainless offspring 
 of Folly, wisely opposed its existence, but the Parent and Manager 
 approved of it, from a natural affection for their own. 
 
 The daily prints very independently opposed the Bantling's life, and 
 exposed its separate and inconsistent parts, for public execration, and 
 justly augured that this co-admixture of wretchedness never would 
 prove a $tar of attraction. But as the Managers did not think fit to obey 
 
- ( 52 ) 
 
 and vice will be the subject of our serious reflection* 
 Many authors have considered the nature of public 
 
 the voice of their supporters, and withdraw their rubbish frorh continu- 
 ing to be offensive, the Public very properh/ absented themselves froni 
 the Theatre, as a mark of disapprobation, for gorging the town with an 
 entertainment which had been objected to as obnoxious. Mr. Harris 
 has been heard to acknowledge that the above-mentioned vehicle of 
 amusement had kept money out of the Theatre ; and if the secrets of 
 the Prison House were known,we are inclined to think that the Trea- 
 sury is three thousand pounds mrnns from forcing this Pantomime 
 down the throats of an insulted and nauseated populace. The only 
 compensation the Public received for their time aad money, was the 
 music composed by Mr. Davy, which is entitled to considerable eu- 
 logium, and deserved a better medium of conveyance to an audience, 
 than the disgraceful one mentioned. The resentment shewn by the 
 town to the Theatre must have been clearly manifested to the Mana-: 
 gers, as the House was decorated with an elegant and numerous audi- 
 ence the night after the Pantomime was withdrawn, and many suc- 
 cessive evenings presented ample proof that the Public are ready to en- 
 courage and support the Theatre, when the purveyors of the national 
 entertainments make up the Bill of Fare with palatable articles. 
 
 Before we quit the subject we must be permitted to make a few re- 
 marks with respect to the economical management of Mr. Kemble ; 
 and as much as prudent economy must ever be entitled to praise, whe- 
 ther viewed in the character of the most wealthy nobleman, or a Ma- 
 nager of a Theatre, yet that economy (if the application of the term be 
 not too delicatej which tends to weaken or destroy the effect of an en- 
 tertainment ofTered for Public amusement, deserves a gentle rebuke ; 
 particularly when we consider that the Managers of Covent Garden ge- 
 nerally -boast at the end of the season, through the medium of the daily 
 prints, that their profits attending the Theatre have amounted from 
 twenty to thirty thousand pounds: therefore a trifling expence to ren- 
 der the representation of any vehicle of amusement as perfect as possi- 
 ble to the Public, ought not to be abridged, or rnade the object of a 
 moment's consideration. 
 
 To come more closely to the case. It has always been the custom 
 in Covent Garden Theatre, to have a certain number of persons to 
 work the machinery, or as they lire theatrically called, Bantomimic 
 tricks, so that on the touch, or flourish of Harlequin's wand, a chair, 
 for instance, should turn with the utmoit celerity into a t^ble, &C. &c. 
 but after the tirst or second night's exhibition of the Pantomime, the 
 ten men whose business it was to work these Stage tricks, and for 
 which they received each a shilling per night, were dismissed by the 
 new Manager as a heavy and superfluous charge on the Theatre, there- 
 fore the.effect of the tricks was much lessened, the actors being oblig- 
 ed, in addition to their professional duty, to move the machinery into 
 
(53) 
 
 morals in parallel views of ancient and modern 
 countries^ but the subject has been mostly treated on 
 a general and aggregate scale. The Dramatist must 
 go beyond this, he must study separate individuals, 
 in order to be furnished with the various portions and 
 shades of virtue and vice allied to human existence, 
 which are frequently shewn in such unexpected 
 and contrary forms, that it puzzles the most metaphy- 
 sical mind to trace their just and conclusive cause. 
 It is well known that many persons who are valuable 
 members of the community, have been the children 
 of low and unprincipled parents; and others, who 
 are insensible to all the moral duties of the citizen, 
 have been the offspring of virtuous, honourable, and 
 wealthy progenitors, from whom they imbibed every 
 precept of virtue and wisdom, that a refined educa- 
 
 all its proper bearings. This materially weakened the pleasure the au- 
 dience would have felt, had all the old tricks (which we have seen 
 worked occasionally these ten years past) been conducted in a proper 
 way. However on the return of Mr. Harris to town, the heavy expence 
 often shillings per Ri§ht was again incurred -by his order. 
 
 This love of economy in Mr. Kemble does not accord with that 
 known liberality which generally adds lustre to his enlightened mind. 
 But there is no accounting for sudden impressions ; we suppose Mr. 
 K. had been reading in the morning of the day the men found their 
 labours suspended, Lord Chesterfield's Letters to his Son, in which he 
 advises him *' to take care of the shillings, for the pounds will take 
 care of themselves." The poor men, however, will never object to 
 any book our English Roscius may be inclined to peruse before he 
 comes to the Theatre, except it should be on economy.. 
 
 Any effort that Mr. Kemble may be inclined to make to rid the 
 Stage of low buflbonery, shall always have our humble support ; but 
 while forcing a worthless exhibition on the good nature of an audi* 
 ence, every endeavour ought to be made to render it as perfect and 
 pleasing as possible, as otherwise the Public receive a double insult, 
 first in giving them an unpalatable dish of viands, and secondly in neg- 
 ligently serving it .up. — Perozue and Cinderella diXe. pieces by no means 
 uninteresting, particularly the former. Any haUet which blends the 
 graces of attitude with some pleasing story, will always be productive 
 of Public admiration. 
 
(54) 
 
 tion, and the best preceptors could bestow, and yet 
 have become the devoted intimates of every crime 
 known in the catalogue of human vices. 
 
 There are also many other shades of morality and 
 vice of a less degree^ and brought into practice by 
 various circumstances, some of which frequently take 
 the milder phrase " Folly," but no term ever had so 
 extensive an import, or was so often misapplied as 
 this. Some of the worst actions have been justified, 
 excused, or palliated by persons who have wished to 
 reason from the minds of others and themselves, any 
 act that attached disgrace to them; when the offence 
 was not removable by barefaced contradiction, they 
 then softened it down to an act of folly, and under 
 . the mildness of the word, frequently have escaped 
 legal punishment. 
 
 There are various other distinctions of moral con- 
 duct observable in our intercourse with the world, 
 that are in a major or minor degree, injurious to Pub- 
 lic faith, and the morahty of the country, and which 
 are not cognizable by law, but which should be the 
 object of an author's notice. Dr. Johnson has beau- 
 tifully illustrated the art of selecting materials for 
 the Poet's labour, in his Uassclas. His directions 
 equally apply to the business of a Dramatic writer, 
 who ought to be able to take particular and striking, 
 but natural parts of men, either as to their morality, 
 vice, folly, 8cc. and combine in their characters such 
 portions of human infirmity, or perfection, as will 
 render their Plays potent engines to enhance the 
 love of virtue, and a disgust at vice. This qualifica- 
 tion, with the others mentioned, would enable an 
 author to obtain lasting celebrity from the just ad- 
 miration of the Public. 
 
( 55 ) 
 
 We now come to those recent agents of the Comic 
 Muse, whose works have heen repeatedly exhibited 
 for Public amusement; and in reverting to the efforts 
 of Mr. Reynold's, we wish it to be understood that 
 any thing we may observe on his Dramatic talents, 
 will notarise from personal prejudice, as that gentle- 
 Bian is quite unknown to us ; and we hope, from the 
 general tendency of the work, our readers will see a 
 greater inclination to applaud than decry the efforts 
 of those who may be the subject of our remark where 
 truth will admit of panegyric; and it would give us 
 infinitely more pleasure to observe that the abov^ 
 Gentleman's labours containedxall the qualities which 
 Cervantes has affirmed a good Comedy ought to pos^- 
 sess, than to be painfully obliged to consider the 
 whole of his Dramatic works a caricature of nature, 
 and wanting every requisite to render them worthy of 
 Public admiration. 
 
 It has been said in palliation of this author's com- 
 positions, that though there was nothingsterlingeither 
 in sentiment, wit, humour, or language, to be found 
 in any of his Comedies, yet considering that every 
 subject was barren, and the advantage Congeeve 
 and others had is now lost from the multiplicity of 
 Comedies written since his time, having engrossed 
 all the materials to be found in life, the Pieces 
 31r. Reynold's produced, however trifling, are ex* 
 traordinary efforts of the mind. It is certainly 
 true that they are extraordinary efforts of mind, 
 and such as a regular Dramatist would be ashamed 
 to own, the effects of which, if continued, will lessen 
 the importance of the Stage. But in answer to the 
 position which has been laid down^ as an excuse for 
 
(56) 
 
 the various Comedies Mr. Rj has offered the towiiy 
 we must be permitted to observe, is not true. Any 
 person who had a vahie for his pubhc name, or a 
 wish to give an audience a Drama worthy their at- 
 tention, would not be at a loss to find interesting ma-* 
 terials for the composition of a good Play j indeed 
 there are several recent instances to support our po- 
 sition, which we shall have occasion to mention 
 in the course of our remarks on this subject. Nature 
 has still a sufficient diversity of feature in which a 
 penetrating and judicious mind will always have an 
 inexhaustible source for the use of his pencil. 
 
 The friends of this Author have softened down the 
 absurdities of his efforts, by observing that his Co- 
 medies are a mirror of the fashionable manners and 
 habits of the day. But can a single part in any of 
 his eighteen Plays be considered to possess the quali- 
 ties of genuine character? Nothing but unnatural 
 extravagance is the obvious feature of his works^ 
 in which there is not a single lesson useful to socie- 
 ty, or an example of any virtue to endear an audi- 
 ence to its pursuit. If a Bond Street Lounger has 
 been the prominent feature of his scenic picture, 
 there is nothing in the language or sentiment of the 
 part to lead youth to view the trifling pleasures of a 
 town with disgust, and the indulgence of idleness, 
 intrigue, and prostitution, as a habit destructive of 
 all the grand qualities of the mind, and subversive 
 of the moral duties of society. But on the contra- 
 ry, the tricks, follies, vices, and foppery, of this gay 
 personage, are described in colotjrs that enchant the 
 young beholder into a love of those habits which 
 4nake an audience laugh at the Stage hero. The 
 
( 57) 
 
 bttier clidracters of his Dramas have been drawn to 
 play tip to the leading personage of the piiece, and 
 the persons on whom Mr. Lewis (who has generally 
 been the prop of the Drama) cracks all the author*s 
 jokes, which principally consist of Joe Miller's wit, 
 ialtefed and disguised so as to lose the full efficacy 
 of its point, or some current but vulgar phrase, such 
 as " what's to pay," &c. ; and when this nonsense 
 has not served> then up turned the flap of a larg^ 
 round table, to conceal Mr. Munden in som^ whim- 
 sical attitude ; or to approach nearer to Pantomime^ 
 the Performer has been obliged to go suddenly up 
 the chimney^ Or through the stage. This is th^ 
 stuff that has been suffered too long to disgrace our 
 National Theatre. 
 
 If an auditor gives the titnlost attehtibri to any of 
 the works of this gentleman, it will be impossible to 
 find a plot, or connect the scenes ; persons come on 
 and go off the stage without any visible reason> un- 
 less it is to fill up time, which the audience expect 
 to be employed in some way ; and agreeably to the 
 reported sentiment and known practice of the abov^ 
 Writer, " you may put any thing in a modern Comedy 
 except sense." 
 
 A recent offspring of this gentleman's muse has 
 given ample proof of his very just remark; no 
 Drama ever contained such an heterogeneous mix- 
 ture of unconnected nonsense as the comedy of 
 *' Three Per Cent's ;" and we hope we may date a 
 revolution in public taste, from the very magnani- 
 mous spirit of disgust, which was very properly 
 manifested to this imbecile progeny of the brairi,- 
 The ray of glorious and independent reason which, 
 pervaded the auditors of both Theatres on the birth- 
 I 
 
( 58 ) 
 
 »igtit of two Dramatic trifles^ in their not only op- 
 posing the existence of the above trash, but giving 
 a death-blow to an execrable After-piece called 
 ^^ Scapin in Masquerade ;" said to be the production 
 of a gentleman at the bar, of the name of Porter, 
 has led us to augur future wisdom and firmness in a 
 pubUc decision, when Managers insult the town, 
 with the wretched efforts of any author whom they 
 may be inclined to countenance, and we hope that 
 the public mind will soon be compleatly satiated 
 ■with those vile mediums of entertainment, which 
 have too long disgraced the metropolitan Thea- 
 tres, and which tarnish the taste of a polite 
 and civilized people. The existence of so many 
 "worthless Dramas is owing to a false and highly 
 improper indulgence in an audience. Previous to 
 the representation of a new Play, the Manager je- 
 suitualLy circulates a report that the embrio Drama 
 will cost, for instance, a thousand pounds in getting 
 up; the public, therefore, wishing the Manager to 
 be remunerated for his labour and expence, in ren- 
 dering the Drama fit for the public eye, countenance 
 on the night of trial that Piece which their under- 
 standing often leads them to despise. This foolish 
 ^iindness has been the ruin of the Stage, but it is the 
 characteristic feature of Englishmen, and though an 
 amiable quality in the national mind, yet from being 
 so well known to the Manager, it is often not only 
 played upon, but frequently an extravagant liberty 
 is taken with it, in decorating the most unmeaning 
 composition in the most expensive drapery, to 
 \vhich the Managers look for patronage aud sup* 
 port^ from having taken the liberty to sacrifice the 
 
( 59 ) 
 
 proper use of the Stage to useless shew and buf- 
 foon :vy; and after any abortion of folly has passed 
 the ti-st night's ordeal from a phalanx of strength* 
 always at the command of a Theatre, managerial in- 
 fluence rapidly puffs it into celebrity, and 'a great 
 portion of those persons who only gave the piece 
 support on the first night, from a wish to remunerate 
 the Manager for the expence incurred in the deco- 
 ration of an ill conceived offspring, afterwards fre- 
 quent from fashion the very exhibition that was 
 the subject of their most biting sarcasm; and id 
 giving the Drania serious consideration conclude 
 that they have been dupes to their own ridiculous 
 good nature, from having allowed that Play to exist 
 on the first night, which would not draw from any 
 intelligent auditor any thing but disgust and ridi- 
 cule. 
 
 The firmness and spirit manifested by the public 
 on the night above mentioned, ought to be con- 
 sidered as a memorable period of revolution in the 
 Drama and taste of the people, and ought to ope- 
 rate on the Proprietors of a Theatre, as a cautio:i 
 not to trifle with public feeling in giving encourage- 
 ment to the individualj whose efforts stamp dis-* 
 grace on their judgment, dishonours the English 
 Stage, and is a medium of gross insult to that peo- 
 ple, who have by their countenance raised the dig- 
 nity of the National Theatre* And though we shall 
 have to encounter much calumny and abuse, from 
 the free animadversions we have made,'and intend t6 
 continue, on the amusements of the Theatres ; yet we 
 shall not relax either through fear or opposition, 
 but always feel it our duty to advocate Public rights 
 
( 60 ) 
 
 ^nd castigate those efforts, from whatever quarter 
 they may come, which are directed to degrade the 
 gcenic Art and its Professors ; and if any of oyr hber 
 ^al remarks should be construed into an ill-natured 
 attack on any one, we shall have no objection to 
 dissect the Phiys with appropriate reflections, which 
 we have now noticed generally, in order not only to 
 shew our present candour and delicacy, but to prove 
 that our remarks are founded in fact. 
 
 What must be th^ ppinion of a reflective mind 
 pn pubhc taste, when men pf talent and acquire- 
 ment are nai^or objects of notice than a dog, that 
 has been taught to leap from the altitude of ten 
 feet into a sheet pf wateir, to save a bundle of 
 |*ags, representing human infancy, which contains 
 9 pennyworth of alamode beef as ^ sure incen- 
 tive for the dog's pursuit. In walking about the 
 out skirts pf the tpwn, we frequently observe dpgs, 
 firom the mpat trifling stimulus, plunge frpm very ele- 
 vated situations into a liquid stream, and from the 
 frequency of the scene we scarcely consider the ani- 
 mal's effort worth notice. Yet strange to say, the Pub- 
 lic have gpne in multitudes to see the s^me thing re-, 
 presented in a Theatre, for the Drama to which we 
 ?iilude, is void of all Dramatic propriety, and a mere 
 inilk and water kind of thing,having no feature to please 
 except the pantomime trick of throwing a great doU 
 from a trifling eminence ; and the other scenes in 
 \he piece would suit any of the author's ComedieSj^ 
 ^nd if any exchange was to take place ia represen- 
 tation;, the order of the Drama, would not be broke,, 
 ^s the catastrophe of one Play, will always answeif 
 fpr the tieginning of ai^other. 
 
(61) 
 
 How far such tasteless productions as the '' Ca- 
 ravan/' are to reduce the importance of a regular 
 Theatre, and lessen the value of men of talent, 
 whose exertions in the esteemed Dramas of the 
 country, tend to animate the mind to all those use^ 
 ful qualities which belong to our nature, and which 
 too often lie dormant^ when we have no esteem 
 for any thing but the senseless amusements of pros- 
 tituted taste, we will not presume to determine, but 
 the power of Stage reform is with the Public, and 
 we will not pay our countrymen so ill a compliment 
 ^s to suppose they will continue long to sanction 
 that species of amusement, which judgment and 
 cool reflection must revolt at. 
 
 If those qualities which constitute the Gentleman, 
 the man of refinement and accomplished compa- 
 nion, will operate as an excuse for the production of 
 ill constructed Dramas, Mr. Reynolds we under- 
 stand is intitled to esteem ; and we are of opinion, 
 that if he were to give the energies of his mind to the 
 formation of a Drama, under the impression that 
 Mr. Harris would not accept the piece, unless it 
 gave internal proof of genuine worth, Mr. R. would 
 not be found unequal to the composition of a good 
 Play, but unfortunately he writes on a certainty of 
 his pieces being received, therefore has only to study 
 two or three Stage tricks with some common saying, 
 which with the talent of the Performers, and the 
 aid of Scenery claim a trifling notice, and just live 
 long enough for him to put a few hundred poundsi 
 in his pocket, though he has too much sense not ta 
 know the exhibition of his scenic trifle, is a robbery 
 on the public property. 
 
( 62 ) 
 
 The efforts of Mr. Morton may be justly cdn- 
 sidered of a superior kind, there is scarcely a Drama 
 produced by him, in which there may not only be 
 found a well constructed plot, engaging incidents, 
 and beauty of thought, cloathed in diction always 
 suitable to the personage of the piece, but there is 
 also an ample portion of judgment exhibited in all 
 his characters, which seldom degenerate to carica- 
 ture ; in confirmation of this, his Fanner Asltfield in 
 Speed the Plough; Frank Oatland in Cure for the 
 Heart Ache; Walterm the Children of the Wood, and 
 many other characters, that are n-ot only well known to 
 the Public, but which are drawn with such an accu- 
 racy of pencil, and such a variety of judicious co- 
 louring, that gives the artist a pre-eminence as a 
 Dramatic writer ; added to this, bis plays catty un- 
 der the alluring vehicle of pleasure a potent share of 
 ethics, and when fascinating an audience, the anti- 
 dote to immorality insensibly steals on the mind, 
 and leaves an indelible impressiQii of some useful 
 lesson. 
 
 If there is an obvious defect in any of this gen- 
 tleman's works, the last scene in the Comedy of 
 Speed the Plough gives us ground for fair animad- 
 version. Without going into the nature of the plot> 
 Sir Philip Blandford finds his castle on fire, and 
 -while he is in a state of distraction about the dan- 
 ger of his daughter, she is brought safe cxut of the 
 burning mansion by Henry. A cool discourse ensues 
 between the personages of the Drama, who bring 
 about the eclairci&scsment of the Fable amidst the 
 iTjins of a valuable dwelling. Here the probability of 
 the piece is materially injured for no other reason. 
 
(63 ) 
 
 tlian to give the audience a long view of a House 
 on Fire. 
 
 If on the recovery of Sir P. B — d's daughter 
 from destruction, they were to quit the Stage ex- 
 pressive of that mingled passion of distress, joy, 
 and affection, which is allied to paternal feeling at 
 tlie moment a child has been rescued from death, 
 it would greatly add to the probability of the Drama, 
 ' and a change of scene would justify the immediate 
 explanation and conclusion of the piece. The Play 
 however coatains many beauties, to compensate for 
 an error which the alteration of a scene would 
 obviate. 
 
 If the gentleman who is the author of the Farce 
 called, *^ Raising the Wind," would forget the suc- 
 cess which has attended his first effort, and consider 
 tliat intrinsic merit alone, would only be the recom- 
 mendation of his future labours to the Stage, we 
 jnay fairly augur that his second performance would 
 be highly acceptable to the Public. There is not 
 an After Piece, (since A£^lingham's pleasing ef- 
 forts), possessed of a shadow of the merit which per- 
 vades the above entertainment. The plot is an ex- 
 ceeding good one and well conducted, the incidents 
 judiciously arranged,and together with the appropriate 
 dialogue,they constitute anhighly laughable and inte- 
 resting little Prama ; and contain less extrava- 
 gance of character, than is to be found in many of 
 our modern comedies. 
 
 We cannot quit this subject without expressing 
 our approbation of the satirical allusion made by 
 Mrs. Beverly, to a certain female novelist, when 
 ^remonstrating with her father, Mr. Blamhard, for 
 
( 64 ) 
 
 not immediately obeying his commands; 6n,t1ie otj 
 gentleman's enquiring who the enlightened female 
 writer is^ a judicious colloquy might take plac6 
 between them> which would convey a delicate but 
 bitter anathema on such blasphemous publications^ 
 as Miss Somerville's ^^ Victim of Sentiment," and 
 the other dangerous labours of her prostituted pen.— -^ 
 Of what materials must that mind be composed^ who 
 can coolly sit down, and mix a deadly poison in d 
 pleasing form to destroy the morals of the rising 
 generation ! — To what degree of depra<^ity must that 
 person have arrived, who has endeavoured to gtt 
 money and celebrity by those literary efforts which 
 alienate children from their love aud duty to their 
 parents I The works of this female philosopher hav^ 
 BO Other tendency than to allure the innocent btii 
 thoughtless girl from the fond embraces of an induU 
 gent parent, and embitter her remaining life with all 
 the horrors, wretchedness, and disease, that are tod 
 frequently the fate of those unfortunate females, who 
 are ensnared into evil by the immorality of those no- 
 "Vels, whose substance is a specious picture of plea- 
 sure, that charms and poisons at the same time. 
 
 A young girl after reading one of this lady's 
 ifTorks becomes quite a new creature, her mind and 
 manners are quite metamorphosed, and before a 
 month is over her head she begins to despise her 
 good old parents at home, as impediments to those 
 fancied pleasures the enlightened Miss Somerville 
 has enchantingly described, and if her circumstances 
 and situation in life will not indulge the execution 
 of all the doGtrines of her favourite authoress^ she 
 
(65 ) 
 
 will at l6ast become pitifully infamous if she can^ 
 not be elegantly vicious. 
 
 The great laxity of morals in a neighbouring coun-» 
 try has been of late years epidemical in this, and the 
 diseased have not been satisfied with the possession 
 of an evil, but they have wickedly disseminated the 
 poison through those engaging mediums just men- 
 tioned, and under the specious name of philosophy 
 have assailed the doctrines of God and the rehgion 
 of man. How differently did the enlightened JPy-» 
 thagoras understand and use the compound word 
 Philosophy, even in the duty of children to their pa- 
 rents. 
 
 " Children ought to furnish their parents with all 
 '^ things necessary, and for fear they should forget 
 *' any one of them, they should prevent their de- 
 '^ sires, and often even divine what they cannot ex-» 
 '^ plain themselves ; for they have often divined for 
 *^ us when we were not able to tell our wants any 
 '* otherwise than by our cries, our infant stammer* 
 *^^ ings, and our complaints.'* 
 
 But this philosopher's works will be read and ad-^ 
 mired when Miss Somerville and her novels are 
 forgotten, and if her labours should ever be re- 
 suscitated from the grave of oblivion, it will be 
 for the use of a procuress who is in want of a hap- 
 py instrument to draw female innocence from the fire- 
 side of her parents, to blight and mildew amidst the 
 scorns and pity of her satiated admirers. 
 
 •The mediums of entertainment which Mr. Cobb 
 has given to the Public, are not to be considered or 
 tried as regular Dramatic pieces ; his principal aim 
 has been to unite in one effort all the prominent and 
 
 K 
 
( 66 ) 
 
 attractive qualities which belong to the stage ; and 
 under the title of Opera, he has often been successful 
 in giving a pleasing plot vi^ith a happy succession of 
 hght incidents, assisted and strengthened by poetry 
 and music. The most interesting of his dramatic 
 labours evidently is, " The Wife of Two Husbands:'' 
 the story and piece from which it has been taken, 
 are already so well known to the Public that it would 
 be superfluous to give it detail ; but without an en- 
 quiry how far Mr. Cobb has adhered to the original, 
 or whether the translation or rather imitation of the 
 French Drama, called " La 1 emme de deux Ma- 
 '^ ris," has been improved by the English nurse, 
 will scarcely be worth an enquiry, as the subject of 
 Public consideration is the Drama as performed. 
 To try its intrinsic merits unaided by poetry, mu- 
 sic, and the splendour of Scenic drapery, and ex- 
 amine the proportions and symmetry of the compo- 
 sition in its naked form, would we think lead the 
 investigator to bestow ample eulogy on the plot, in- 
 cidents, and language. Indeed unaccompanied with 
 poetry and music it would not fail [if represent- 
 ed] of engaging the feelings of an audience, but 
 taken with all the advantages it at present possesses^ 
 we consider it the best Opera that has been pro- 
 duced for several years, as the mind is powerfully 
 engaged independant of the pleasure derived from 
 the music. A few improbabilities of dialogue per- 
 vade some of the scenes respecting Volunteers : it is 
 a pity that a Drama of so much merit should have 
 recourse to such chip traps a>s they are theatrically 
 called, which have too long constituted the plot,wit, 
 and incidents of our recent Stage stuff; for Dramas 
 
( 67 ) 
 
 we cantiot call them. — However highly every ob- 
 server of the scenery exhibited at Drury Lane, 
 must panygerise Mr. Johnson and the several ar- 
 tists of that Theatre, for the classic conception and 
 airangement of the scenes and machinery which 
 dress their plays^ yet we must be permitted to ob- 
 serve that the scene representing Mount Etna ought 
 to have been less and thrown more into the per- 
 spective, at present it appears more like a hay rick 
 than a convulsed mountain of lava, though many 
 parts of it are in a state of fertility ; had it possessed 
 more Stage distance with darker colouring, beyond 
 which a clear aerial drop had terminated the scene, 
 the picture would then have had more enchanting 
 qualities for visual and intellectual gratification. We 
 cannot leave unnoticed the music composed and se- 
 lected by Mazzinghi, which must continue to be ad- 
 mired, while taste, science, and ear, hold their 
 powers. 
 
 The Comedies produced by Mr. Cumberland 
 may be ranked with the best Dramatic productions 
 of the country ; there is a beauty of conception, 
 delineated with all the graces of a masterly pencil, to 
 be found in every Scene of his Plays; and where 
 elevation of character is described, his language is 
 grand without bombastic metaphor, and evinces the 
 dignity and richness of the source from whence it 
 came. His vulgar personages are the efforts of ge- 
 imine humour, and are always highly pleasing, with- 
 out transgressing the bounds of nature. Mr. C. is 
 one of the few ornaments of the British Stage. 
 
 Though Mr. Murphy's declining years have 
 cooled the Muse's flame, which once animated a mind 
 
( 68 > 
 
 whose richness and fertilitj^ add histre to English 
 literature^ yiet as a just tribute of respect to his 
 great talents, we must be permitted to observe^ his 
 Comedies still keep their attractive power, grace 
 our Stage, and are happy models for the contempla- 
 tion of our modern Dramatists. 
 
 If it be admissible to speak prophetically, Mr* 
 Allingham's efforts have proved such a qualifica- 
 tion for Pramatic writing, that a few years will no 
 doubt give him a place in that rank of authors 
 whose works will bear the inspection of impartial 
 posterity, and be admired for all those qualities that 
 constitute and grace a good Drama. This gentle- 
 man became a favorite with the Comic muse at a 
 very early period of life, and such rays of genius were 
 displayed in his first efforts of " Tis all a Farce>" 
 as animated him to a more sedulous attention to, and 
 a more intimate acquaintance with the propitious 
 Thalia His prolific conception soon ushered into 
 being "Fortune's Frolic ;" one of the best After-pieces 
 known to the Stage ; and which appears to carry new 
 charms on repeated exhibition, and will doubtless 
 remain a stork Farce as long as genuine humour 
 and pure taste, shall be suffered to exist on the 
 boards of either Theatre. The unexampled success 
 which attended these children of his brain, gave 
 him courage to offer the Comedy of " Marriage 
 Promise/' at the ordeal of public favour, and the au- 
 dience found in this Drama those requisites ta 
 please, which have not of late been very common 
 to tlie Stage, a regular and well formed plot, with 
 a lively succession of interesting incidents, that pro- 
 duce an aniple contrast of the passions, and give re^ 
 
( 69 ) 
 
 lief to the Auditor's mind, from the opposite powers 
 of feeling displayed by a judicious diversity of the 
 Characters, whose pencilling evidently evinces the 
 labour of a very animated mind, under the govern- 
 ment of a refined taste and well directed judgment. 
 Mr. A. has also mingled in his most engaging and 
 pathetic passages^ those precepts of virtue and mo- 
 rality that add greatly to the National use of his 
 Drama, and while he delights with the gaiety of bis 
 periods, couched in easy and elegant diction, they 
 artfully insinuate those sentiments which allure the 
 mind to a love of the milder passions, and the pur- 
 suit of virtue, charity, and all the actions that dig- 
 nify our nature ; and if any thing can add to the 
 fame which this Comedy has so justly acquired, it is 
 its having convened a full house for more than 
 twenty nights, at a time when Colman's " John 
 Bull," was surprizingly attractive at Covent Garden. 
 If our recollection does not deceive us, the next 
 After Piece produced by the above gentleman, was 
 *' Mrs. Wiggins," which contains much humour? 
 and proved highly attractive at the Hay-market 
 Theatre. 
 
 From the excellence of this Author's former Co- 
 . medy, the public mind was prepared for a delectable 
 treat on the night " Hearts of Oak," was launched 
 into life for public protection ; but injustice to truth 
 we must observe, Mr. Allingiiam has not been so 
 happy in the arrangement of his materials as his ante- 
 rior efforts led us to expect ; however, a cool unpreju- 
 diced auditor might find a great portion of valuable 
 ore, whose lustre was dimmed by the irregular and 
 leduadant parts of the Piece ; many of the senti- 
 
(70) 
 
 ments argued originality of thought, and his happy 
 power of giving them graceful diction. Yet when 
 considered in tlie agregate, the Comedy cannot be 
 placed in the same rank with '^ Marriage Promise.** 
 Greater eulogium is due to that author, whose con- 
 ception and pencil give an original character, than 
 ought to be given to a servile and little minded pla- 
 giarist, who makes up his picture with a portion of 
 every man*s labours, and in trying to conceal the 
 robbery renders his Piece a pitiful trifle, which con- 
 tains neither the feature of extravagance, or fasci- 
 nation, and after a few nights exposure sinks into 
 everlasting oblivion. The part of O'Bradlej/ is cer- 
 tainly coloured with' too great a freedom of pencil^ 
 and some other parts of the Comedy evince more 
 talent than judicious consideration, but being the 
 genuine effort of original conception, the unpre- 
 judiced mind must view with more pleasure the ef- 
 fort of a man who thinks for himself, than that of 
 the timid and feeble artist; \yhose soul is not above 
 the delineation of common place stuff. 
 
 The part of Ardent shews the author's knowledge 
 of nature and manners, and appeared to rivet pul>- 
 lic attention. Before we leave this gentleman's ef- 
 forts, we cannot but think the injudicious applica- 
 tion of the title produced a prejudice against the 
 Drama that would not have taken place, if he had 
 been more happy in that particular; as *' Hearts of 
 Oaky* had no affinity to the tendency of the Piece; 
 the audience were therefore disappointed, in not 
 seeing a Phiy illustrating the purport of its title ; 
 however, were its perfections and errors weighed, 
 the former would considerably preponderate, and 
 
( 71 ) 
 
 Were the Comedy stript of all Theatrical drapery 
 and the aid of Scenic action, it would shew the la- 
 bour of a polished mind, and, reflect much credit oa 
 its ingenious parent. 
 
 The Epilogue is written with much nerve, and is 
 said to be the offspring of Mr. Graham's muse, 
 whose talents and probity as a magistrate are well 
 known, and universally admired. 
 
 If the ability of an author is to be tried by the 
 success of his Dramas, few gentlemen have been 
 more fortunate than Mr. Thomas Dibdin ; but as 
 we observed in our remarks on Mr. Reynolds, 
 that many Dramas may hold a place in a Theatre 
 from the artifice of Managerial support, which have 
 no genuine and internal claim to eulogium ; this is 
 in part true with respect to the above author; how- 
 ever, to trace his progressive efforts as a writer, will 
 enable us to see how far improvement has accom- 
 panied his literary labours. To the best of our re- 
 collection the first Drama brought out under this 
 gentleman's name was the *^ J^zv and Doctor ;" an 
 After-piece which we consider as possessing consi- 
 derable merit, and which exhibited much original 
 character; the Plot and incidents are so well ar- 
 ranged, that the tribute of applause bestowed on its 
 representation was justly merited. If we mistake 
 not, the Comedy of the *^ Birth Dai/," was his 
 next offspring of public exhibition ; and we should 
 here premise, that both these Dramas are the chil- 
 dren of German parents, but naturalized, altered, 
 and decorated with English sentiment, to make them 
 accord with the taste and manners of a British audi- 
 «iice r this was a ta^k that Mr. Dibdin has perform- 
 
( 72 ) 
 
 ed with considerable ability, so that botb the above 
 Dramas may be considered the entire children of 
 his happy invention. The next performance worth 
 notice is the '' Cabinet f in this Opera we find 
 him less attentive to the principles of genuine 
 Drama, and he has contented himself with merely 
 making the dialogue a medium for the conveyance 
 of his songs. Yet the construction of the Piece ia 
 not without merit, and one or two of the characters 
 carry the feature of original conception. The Marquis: 
 de grand Chateau in particular, is very well drawn 
 Fawcett's part of Whirasiculo, though well per- 
 formed, hasnothing striking or unique in it, and would 
 do as well for one Opera as another. Munden's 
 Sailor is drawn with no energy of pencil, but his ex-» 
 quisite talent and humour will always give an im-i 
 portance to a trifle. The author has displayed the art 
 of keeping the audience continually alive from the 
 variety of bustle and music, which accompany a 
 succession of light incidents. Dibdin seems to 
 partake of his father's genius in the composition of 
 his songs ; many of them possess good thoughts, and 
 lire expressed in happy poetry, and when aided with 
 the talent of the Theatre, and the decoration of 
 Scenic effect, the ^^ Cabinet" proves an attractive ve- 
 hicle of public amusement and has been of infinite 
 service to the Treasury. ^' Family Quarrels" has 
 fewer internal claims to praise than any of the pre-» 
 ceding Pieces, and is void of any regular Plot or 
 connection. The incidents are of a trifling nature, 
 and have no methodical feature, and the progress of 
 the Opera is only to be traced by the end of each 
 Act. We hav^ been informed that thi^ error ought 
 
( 73 ) ■ 
 
 not to lie on the shoulders of the author, for however 
 regular the proportions of his Drama are when put 
 into rehersal, he has been obliged to cut and maim 
 its Hmbs to accomQiodate a few of the leading per- 
 .formersj who not feeling for the author's reputation, 
 would have portions of the Piece expunged to gra*- 
 tify their notions of coming oiT, or going on the 
 Stage ; so that the audience has been left in the 
 dark, as to the cause of theif entry or exit. Mr. 
 DiBDiN who had to struggle with fortune, was 
 obliged to submit to the merciless pruning knife of 
 the Performers ; consequently his Scenic child was 
 exhibited void of connection and symmetry of frame, 
 which conception and judgment had duly propor- 
 tioned and matured : this is a liberty that Mr. CoL- 
 MAN will not suffer to be taken with any of his happy 
 progeny, and we hope Mr D. will soon be able, 
 from the encreasing pecuniary strength of his 
 pocket, to prevent the vvhiui of any one from dis- 
 torting the regularity of his Dramas, for the ridicule 
 and sneer of the judicious observer. 
 
 The characters of the piece, however, display no 
 novelty of conception^ nor any great vigour of mind, 
 in their delineation, and appear to be a slight me- 
 dium for Performers to shew their respective strength 
 of talent, humour, and vocal ability ; but the defici- 
 ency of the opera is made up by several songs, which 
 merited the approbation that was bestowed on 
 them. 
 
 A just analysis of the " English Fleet," will shew 
 to any impartial observer, that to be pleased with 
 its naked contents as a Drama, is to carry our intel- 
 lect back to a period of infancy, when the story of 
 
 L 
 
( 74 ) 
 
 ** Jack the Giant Killer" has more charms than the 
 best of Shakespeare's Plays could produce, from the 
 dawning mind of childhood being only capable of 
 enjoying trifles, and even unable to separate or un- 
 derstand that subject which the medium of sight led 
 us to be pleased with. But to use the language of the 
 immortal Bard, " What a piece of work is man! How 
 noble in reason ! how infinite in faculties ! in form 
 and in moving, how express and admirable ! in ac- 
 tion, how hke an angel ! in apprehension, how like 
 a God." And yet with all these reputed qualities 
 which attend our nature, three thousand adult per- 
 sons have been repeatedly convened to see a Drama, 
 the language and sentiment of which would not 
 puzzle a boy of twelve years of age to perform as 
 a holiday task, and in all probability, the youth's ef- 
 fort would become a more accurate picture of the 
 historic page, in which the sentiments would accord 
 better with the period of history at which the plot is 
 dated, than the Piece Mr. Dibdin has given the Pub- 
 lic. In truth, the dialogue of the Opera is merely a 
 string to introduce the songs, some of which have an 
 attractive quality when issuing from the mellifluous 
 lips of the Performers. The only part that can be call- 
 ed character is Munden's*^iV/fl^ Mainmast,'' and that 
 personage being in the possession of any other Per- 
 former, would shew itself to be only a skeleton, which 
 his rich humour has given substance to, and rendered, 
 whimsically interesting. It must be kept in recol- 
 lection, that we are now only speaking of the Piece 
 unadorned with Music and Painting. If taken with 
 all the concomitant aid which belongs to Stage de- 
 coration, it presents itself in another light for remark. 
 
( 75 ) 
 
 and has something for the gratification of both earand 
 sight. The music is highly cieditable to the genius of 
 Mr. Brahaui ; and when conveyed by conjunctive abi- 
 lity, some of the airs and the duets of the " Sentry- 
 box," &c. possess powers to lull the mind into a delec- 
 tabletranquillity,andenforce our plaudits. Themoon- 
 light scene does infinite credit to the talenst of the ar- 
 tist., Mr. Richards. The scene that exhibits a castle 
 would have a better effect if the building had been re- 
 duced in magnitude, and thrown more into perspec- 
 tive. The last scene of the English Fleet is new to the 
 Stage, and reflects much honour on the pencil of Mr. 
 Philips. The free unprejudiced remarks we have 
 
 made on the efforts of Mr. D , are not intended 
 
 to lessen his merit with the Public; we have a very 
 high opinion of his genius, and if he Were not limit- 
 ed in time, with respect to the production of his 
 Dramatic Works, we do not hesitate to say his mind 
 is equal to a Drama of the first description. But he 
 has hitherto been placed in the situation of a me- 
 chanic, and only had a certain portion of time al- 
 lowed him for the production of a new Drama, con- 
 sequently his pieces are written currente calamo ; 
 and if his Muse is not equally propitious to him every 
 day, he however cannot give his pen a few hours 
 indulgence, to enjoy the pleasure of meditation, and 
 reflect on the progressive parts of his. labour, but is 
 obliged to dash on, till the agreed for number of acts 
 are ready for a reading in the Green Room. It is 
 therefore not to be expected that Mr. Dibdin can 
 always be happy in Plot, incidents, and all the ne-^ 
 cessary qualities that constitute genuine Drama, 
 
( 76 ) 
 
 Though Mr. O'Keefe has long ceased writing for 
 the Stage, we however feel it a duty to consider 
 him one of the first Mimographers of the age. No 
 man ever arranged light materials with such a happy 
 effect, or rendered trifles so interesting. "The Agree- 
 able Surprise," " Peeping Tom," and the '* Poor 
 Soldier," with a long list of other Pieces, argue con- 
 siderable talent, and have proved extremely lucra- 
 tive to the Managers, added to their intrinsic me- 
 rits. His Dramas have been the medium of con- 
 veying some of the best Music known to the Stage . 
 and we cannot but express a regret, that Mr. Shield 
 is not engaged at one of our Theatres. While beau- 
 ty is allied to simplicty, or as long as it is considered 
 to constitute the sublime, the efl^orts of this compo- 
 ser must rank in the highest scale of scientific la- 
 bour, and render his genius an everlasting theme of 
 Pnblic eulogium. 
 
 The Comedy of '' Wild Oats" displays the sym- 
 metry of genuine Drama, and is happily contrasted 
 with humour and sentiment, and the characters are 
 correct portraits of nature, whose business has a mo- 
 ral tendency, and imparts lessons at once instructive 
 and pleasing. 
 
 The efforts of this author, for a considerable time, 
 formed a primary part of Public diversion at Covent 
 Garden Theatre, and put many thousand pounds 
 into the pocket of the Manager. We now take the 
 liberty to mention with a delicate reluctance that 
 the most trifling pecuniary aid would add a cheerful 
 day to his declining life, atid solace those hours 
 which sensibility must always feel, embittered, 
 when nature is in want of necessary sustenance. 
 
(77) 
 
 If we have been indiscreet in giving publicity to 
 the misfortunes of one whose seclusion from pub- 
 lic life has obliterated his past importance, it has 
 been from the best of motives, and from the high 
 opinion we entertain of the head and heart of 
 Mr. Harris, who has always been alive to the mis- 
 fortunes that occasionally await the most prosper- 
 ous; and when relief was within his ability, the 
 summit of his ambition has been to raise a drooping 
 individual to the happiest state circumstances would 
 allow ; and we are sure that had Mr. O'Keeffe's case 
 been before known to him, he would have raised a 
 purse that would have brought the tear of gratitude 
 down the cheek of the poor author, prolonged his days 
 in peaceful retirement, that he might bless the hand 
 that kept his almost exhausted frame from earlier 
 dissolution, than what nature would work when long 
 life and infirmities have their proper share of indulg- 
 ence. It would be unfair not to notice Mr. Kemble, 
 whose feelings we are sure would be alive on such 
 an occasion, and prompt him to an eleemosynary 
 kindness, notwithstanding he has a great family to 
 maintain. And if we are not greatly deceived in our 
 opinion of the philanthrophy of the Ladies and Gen- 
 tlemen of the two Theatres, they would, we doubt 
 not, readily join in a proposed subscription to render 
 comfort to an individual, from whose works many 
 of them have had characters which have assist- 
 ed in raising them to celebrity ; and we feel satisfi- 
 fied such an effort to serve Mr. O'Keefe would ter- 
 minate in a manner highly creditable to the huma- 
 nity of the Performers, and particularly useful to a 
 worthy mauj and a great genius. 
 
(• 78 ) 
 
 Mr. Franklin has been happy in uniting the re- 
 quisites of Opera in his *^ Egyptian Festival/' and 
 has evinced much abihty for Dramatic writing, from 
 the judicious arrangements of his materials, in the 
 After-piece of the •' Wandering Jew.'* 
 
 The musical Dramas produced by Mr. Birch are 
 of slight texture ; they, however, convey some pleas- 
 ing music which has rendered them acceptable to 
 the Public. 
 
 Mr. Waldron has shewn many qu ah fi cations for 
 an able Dramatic writer. The Pieces he has written 
 and altered for the Stage, attach great credit to his 
 talents, as they abound with character which he has 
 not extravagantly delineated. His new edition of 
 Roscius Anglicanus, and the first volume of Ben 
 Jonson's Plays with notes, give ample proofs that his 
 mind is stored with no ordinary portionof literature, 
 and indicates requisites for the pursuit of any subject 
 his genius may suggest. 
 
 The efforts of Prince Ho a re are of a light na- 
 ture, but he has been generally very happy iu the 
 management of plot and incidents ; and in impart- 
 ing an ample share of humour to his characters,which 
 is all an audience look for in an After-piece, whose 
 purport is evidently intended to produce a laugh. A 
 Farce has been considered to be founded in chimera 
 and improbability. It is, however, a species of Drama 
 very difficult to be carried into execution, a nicety of 
 judgment being requisite to link improbabilities in 
 such a manner, that they may not disgust; and in 
 this particular Mr. H. hasbeen very successful,which 
 has rendered his Dramatic progeny always accepta- 
 ble to the Public. 
 
(79) 
 
 Mrs. Inchbald, as a Dramatic writer, claims our 
 notice, and is intitled to considerable panegyric for 
 several Stage productions. The Comedy of " Every 
 One has his Fault," is a happy effort of the mind, 
 possesses great strength of original character, and an 
 useful portion of moral instruction. The diction is 
 nervous, elegant and natural ; and always appropri- 
 ate to the personage of the Piece. The *^ Wedding » 
 Day" may be considered a little Comedy ; its plot 
 incidents, and dialogue, are above the usual charac- 
 ter of Farce. The Comedy of" Lovers Vows," though 
 cast in a German mould, is rendered almost her own, 
 as its original form would not have suited the taste 
 of an English audience. The verses recited by Mr^ 
 Munden, as Rhyming Butler, are from the pen of 
 Mr. Taylor, whose critical remarks on Stage exhibi- 
 tions in the True Briton, aregenerally judicious, and 
 evince a great knowledge of the subject on which he 
 treats. The other Dramatic efforts of this lad}^ are 
 highly creditable to her genius and judgment. 
 
 The merits of Mr. Sheridan have been the sub- 
 ject of so much remark and just eulogium, that it is 
 almost unnecessary to make his Dramas a topic of 
 observation. This has been owing to the greatness 
 of his political character, which has kept his merits 
 continually floating on public notice, in a twofold 
 capacity, the one as an admired Dramatist, and the 
 other as an enlightened Statesman ; therefore all that 
 admiration and ingenuity could do on the one hand, 
 to point out the beauties of his different plays, has 
 been amply diffused ; and all that malice and politi- 
 cal opposition could suggest, has also been used to de- 
 grade and lessen him and his efforts in public opinion; 
 
( 80 ) 
 
 but real merit may set illiberal and acrimoniotiscHtU 
 cisin at defiance, and is like a piece of wood in wa- 
 ter, which though k^pt at the bottom for a while^, will 
 rise itself when the depressing power is removed* 
 Without going over a beaten track, by reasoning on 
 the different parts of his Dramas, we shall content 
 ourselves with expressing our humble approbation of 
 ^' his School for Scandal/' and the Comedy of '^ The 
 Rivals," in each of which may be found all the beau- 
 ties of thought, decorated with all the graces of dic- 
 tion, where refinement of character would admit of 
 elegant drapery ; the minor characters possess a 
 garment of appropriate language suitable to their con- 
 dition in the Drama. Pizarro has been considered to 
 contain less of genuine Drama than any of his v/orks, 
 but many of the passages in that piece indicate the 
 touches of a masterly pencil; with respect to the 
 plot, sentiments, and arrangement of materials, ma- 
 ny fair objections have been made, which may be 
 seen in Duttons Dramatic Censor, and Cobbett's 
 Weekly Journal. But if ever Dramatic furor should 
 again inflame the mind of Mr. Sheridan, there can 
 be no doubt but the offspring of his Muse will add 
 another laurel to hi« brow, and give dignity to the 
 English Stage. 
 
 In casting our eye over the list of Dramatic writers 
 who have honoured the Stage with productions which 
 possess the beauties of thought, neatness of phraseo- 
 logy, with a potent share of ethics, no one stands 
 more prominent, or deserves to rank higher than 
 Mr. George Colman. Without going into the me- 
 
( SI ) 
 
 rits of all the oliildren of his creative and happy fati* 
 cy, we think the *^ Surrender of Calais" contains both 
 dignity of subject and excellence of sentiments. The 
 lessons it inculcates are highly honourable to the ge- 
 nius and heart of its parent. The part of Eustache de 
 St. Pierre, is a fine portrait of genuine patriotism^ and 
 founded on the glorious principle of self sacrifice, 
 for the preservation of his Countrymen, and shews 
 a trait of character worthy of a Roman soul in the 
 most dignified days of the republic. The other cha- 
 racters manifest a vigour of drawing, and a delicacy 
 of colouring; and are evidently the efforts of an au* 
 thor whose physical strength of naind and polished 
 education are obvious through all the scenes of the 
 piece, from the originality of his thought, the excel- 
 lence of the plot, the judicious arrangement of his 
 materials, and the masterly manner in which he has 
 finished his picture for public admiration. 
 
 ^' Incle and Yarico" is a Drama which conveys 
 more useful philosophy than many of our Sermons, 
 and inculcates those principles of humanity that be- 
 long to civilized society. The character of Yarico is 
 a chaste and beautiful portrait of simple nature,which 
 must ever interest the heart. From pieces' of this 
 description an auditor retires impressed with those 
 lessons of morality that animate his feelings to the 
 best duties of his nature, and even soften the obdu- 
 rate into a sense of Charity, and a love of their spe- 
 cies. The " Mountaineers" is pregnant with a pro. 
 per portion of action, and contains a happy succes- 
 sion of interesting incidents. It cannot, however, be 
 ranked among his best productions; but it carried 
 more than common importance when first brought 
 
 M 
 
( 82 ) 
 
 out, from having the great talents of Kerable, Ban- 
 nister and Parsons, for its support. " The Iron 
 Chest/' independent of Plot and incidents, pos- 
 sesses many beautiful thoughts cioathed in ihe hap- 
 piest expression. The "Heir at Law" is a well 
 written Comedy, though the Plot is of a light con- 
 struction ; the incidents are, however, admirably 
 arranged, and the Characters are finely drawn and 
 judiciously contrasted, which give the Drama an 
 attractive power, and will render it an admired 
 vehicle of entertainment for many seasons, unless 
 the nation should be absorbed in the admiration of 
 low Buffoonery. *' The Poor Gentleman" car- 
 ries all the energy of the Author's Pencil, and 
 possesses a feature to please that will long insure it 
 public attention. 
 
 In the Comedy of "John BulF* maybe found an 
 excellent plot; and a happy arrangement of well 
 conceived incidents. There is scarcely an unim- 
 portant Character in the piece, most of w hich are 
 well connected with the Story, and are necessary for 
 the progressive movement of th^ Fable. Fawcett's 
 part of John Thorftbury £iYgues Colman*s great know- 
 led«^e of life ; it pourtrays some of the finest touches 
 of nature, and is cut with a graver which Shak- 
 speare's hand could not have used with a more hap- 
 py effect. The Scene, where the Brazier changes 
 his cloaths, and refuses for a time to wear the 
 waistcoat, which had been worked by his daughter, 
 is particularly worthy of notice, it is a simple eflort 
 of exhibiting the Passions, but powerfully aflecting, 
 and perfectly natural; indeed, we cannot find any 
 unwarrantable extravagance in the delineation of 
 
( 83 ) 
 
 any of the Dramatic Personages except the Magis- 
 trate's Country servant, which is rather too highly 
 coloured. The Gentleman who personates this 
 part should therefore be more judicious in his ac- 
 tion, as it reduces the natural effect of the scene 
 when he doubles his fist in the face of the Old 
 Thornbury to whom respect is due, if it was only 
 from his appearance and age; and being come on 
 business to the magistrate Rochdale, there is no just 
 reason for the servant putting himself into a menac- 
 ing attitude. We are sure a moment's reflection will 
 shew Mr. Beverley the necessity of suspending that 
 part of his descriptive power, when representing 
 the rustic Simon. — The part of Tom Shuffleton is 
 finely drawn, but we think it would have been ra- 
 ther a dangerous character in the possession of any 
 other Performer than Mr. Lewis, notwithstanding 
 the Author has displayed much judgment in mak- 
 ing his follies the subject of keen satire and re- 
 proach, and has placed this Bond Street Fly, in 
 such a proper light to the audience, that there* is 
 little danger of his manners becoming a model for 
 imitation ; yet some of the sentiments would not have 
 been acceptable to the audience, if the other parts 
 of the Play had not caused increasing delight with 
 their progressive motion. The impressive and very 
 appropriate moral reflections which Shuffleton's con- 
 duct gives cause to, are admirable lessons to the 
 younger part of the audience, and tend to shew 
 how contemptible such beings are in rational so- 
 ciety, whose vice, idleness, and folly, have perverted 
 the very use of their existence into a national evil. 
 The character of Dennis Bulgruddery may be justly 
 
 2 
 
(84) 
 
 considered the best Irish part known to the Stage; 
 it is the child of genuine humour, and bears the 
 feature of origin aUty ; t(;jere are some parts drawn 
 in such a way as to become highly interesting when 
 sustained by a Great Actor, but when indifferently 
 performed shew their native deficiency : but we do 
 not hesitate to observe that if the above Character 
 was personated by the humblest Comedian of either 
 Theatre, its own genuine qualities would command 
 attention, arid produce considerable pleasure. The 
 part of Mary is delicately drawn and as dehcately 
 delineated by Mrs. Gibbs. Emery's Country Boy 
 evinces Col man's power to twist himself into the 
 character he describes, which renders his efforts in- 
 teresting pictures of nature. 
 
 We cannot leave unnoticed the obvious delicacy 
 and forcible beauty of his Metaphorical Senti- 
 ment, his similitudes carry all the energy, yet sim- 
 plicity of eastern writing, and give a happy illus- 
 tration of many fine thoughts, and these are so 
 prudently diffused through the Play, that they shew 
 at once the Author's judgment and refined taste. 
 But of late years both our Novels and many of our 
 Plays have been made up of nothing but inflated 
 diction, swelling with metaphor upon metaphor, 
 most of which are so obscure in sense that the most 
 indulgent reader has been at a loss to find either 
 beauty or meaning, and often so misapplied that 
 the reader or auditor has laughed and thought the 
 author mad, or that he despised the good advice of 
 Horace, and the judicious remarks of Felton*, 
 This kind of pompous writing has been justly lam- 
 * On the Classics. 
 
( 85 ) 
 
 pooned in Mr. Giffard's Baviad, whose poetry is sea- 
 soned with true attic salt, and has been justly effec- 
 tive in rendering that species of composition less 
 admired. 
 
 . The Musical Farce of '^ Love Laughs at Lock 
 Smiths" is said to be of French parentage, yet it 
 carries ample proof that Colman's genius has almost 
 rendered it his own ; the plot and incidents are of 
 the most pleasing kind, and develope themselves 
 with the happiest effect, and keep the mind of the 
 audience continually engaged. The piece however 
 does not gain much, by being removed from its na- 
 tural soil to Govent Garden Theatre. 
 
 If Mr. Harris has any wish to maintain the dig- 
 nity of his Theatre, and entertain the Public with 
 genuine Comedy, he'd better give Mr. Colman 
 or Mr. Allingham two thousand pounds for a Play, 
 than ten shillings for the trash we have occasionally 
 seen disgracing his Stage : to the Comedies of "John 
 Bull'* and "Marriage Promise" the Public have 
 been brought as by a magnet, whose attractive power 
 is not weakened by wear. 
 
 The Dramatic works of Mr. Holcroft, Monk 
 Lewis, and others will be subjects of ample con- 
 sideration in our next. 
 
 The construction of Tragedy differs but xery little 
 from Comedy, as an Author must have all the qua- 
 lifications already mentioned for drawing interest- 
 ing portraits to animate his picture of fancied woe, 
 with all those characteristic beauties of thought, 
 expression, and variety of passion of which the 
 Tragic tale is susceptible : we shall therefore only 
 WieiUioa the subject generally, as an analysis of its 
 
( 86 ) 
 
 parts and the citation of various opinions, on tlie 
 minutiae of its structure, would exceed the hrnited 
 pages allorted to this Work. 
 
 It has been often remarked that the Pubhc taste 
 for Tragedy, is upon the dechne. This opinion has 
 been founded on the ill success which has attended 
 many of our modern Tragedies, whose exhibition 
 has not proved lucrative to the managers, therefore 
 they have been withdrawn after a few evenings per- 
 formance notwithstanding they have had the sup- 
 port of the first talent in the country. If it were 
 possible to get the candid opinion of Mr. Kemble 
 or Mrs. Siddons on so delicate a subject, we think 
 they would acknowledge that the ill reception of 
 our modern Tragedies, was not owing to the decline 
 of public taste for the beauties of Melpomene, but 
 that the pieces which have been exhibited were de- 
 fective in tracing nature, and agitating the passions 
 with striking pictures of important action. 
 
 In ord.er to shew our opinion is not erroneous, if 
 Mr. Kemble and Mrs. Siddons were to give the 
 utmost exertion of their Scenic powers to the sup- 
 port of Mr. Pye*s Tragedy of " Adelaid," there 
 would not be a hundred pounds in the house, and if 
 repeated on the following evening much less. But 
 were they on the succeeding night to play in " Ve- 
 nice Preserved," or the *' Gamester," there is no 
 doubt of the Theatre being well attended: indeed 
 we have recently witnessed with pleasure, an ele- 
 gant and numerous assemblage of auditors to these 
 inimitable Dramas. It has also been circulated, 
 that Mr. Kemble frequently neglected to give the 
 energy of his mind and action, to many of the new 
 
(87) 
 
 Tragedies which were brought out under his manage- 
 ment at Drury Lane Theatre, and that owing to his 
 inattention they perished. But we think Mr. Kem- 
 ble has too logical a head to injure himself, and we 
 believe the bitterest of his foes are not so ill natured 
 as to accuse him of being an enemy to his own in- 
 terest; which he certainly would be if he did not 
 encourage the labours of the serious and dignified 
 muse : we therefore must confess there does not ap- 
 pear any rational ground for the belief of this story. 
 Any endeavour he made to send Melpomene from 
 the Stage would be a stab to the importance of him- 
 self and sister, whose business it is to foster the ef- 
 forts of the Tragic lady, while they wish to keep 
 the national mind alive to their own professional 
 excellencies, but the censure which has fallen on 
 Mr. Kemble's shoulders ought to have been placed 
 to the authors, who have frequently given him a 
 mass of pompous declamation, void of al] those 
 graces of speech which are to be found in Shaken 
 speare, Otway and Howe, and possessing none of 
 those little characteristic sketches of nature and 
 passion that rivet attention, interest the finer feel- 
 ings, and bring down that irresistible overflowing of 
 the sacrifontts lachrymarum. 
 
 It has therefore been impossible for Mr. Kemble 
 to give nature and energy to that piece, which the 
 author had not infused into it. Some of these re- 
 cent Dramas have however not been unworthy of 
 notice as poems, in which the most enlightened 
 might find beautiful imagery, but when considered 
 as Dramatic pictures intended to move the affec- 
 
(88 ) 
 
 tions of a mixed audience, accompanied with a 
 proper share of machinery, and truth mixed with 
 fiction so artfully, that all the parts are properly 
 harmonized and so connected as to constitute a 
 justly proportioned whole, our recent Tragedies (with 
 a very few exceptions), have been found quite de- 
 fective. 
 
 An elegant writer has judiciously observed, that 
 when an author thinks an audience manifest a want 
 of taste, sensibility and discernment, by laughing in 
 file most interesting scenes of his Tragedy, it is a la- 
 mentable proof of his poetic imbecility ; he may in- 
 deed be a versifier and a declaimer, but he is no poet 
 who tells a Tragic tale without eliciting a tear. It 
 is not sufficient that the language of the Tragedy is 
 flowing, the similies and metaphors brilliant, the 
 -verse melodious, there must be a charm added by 
 the creative power of Almighty genius which no di- 
 dactic rules can teach, which cannot be adecjuate- 
 ly described, but which is powerfully felt by the vi- 
 brations of the heart strings; florid diction and 
 pompous declamation are indeed- found to be least 
 adapted of all modes of address, to afTect the finer 
 sensibihties of nature ; plain wcvrds without epithets, 
 without metaphors, liave ofiencr excited emotionsiof 
 the tenderest sympathy than the jnost laboured 
 composition. 
 
 The major part of an nudicnce cannot follow the 
 high flights of sublime poetry, and many cannot 
 understand the beauties of blank verse, but the lan- 
 guage of Ltllo is equal to the lowest degree of 
 iotellegt; whose Tragedy of the " Fatal Curiosity, ' 
 
( 89 ) 
 
 has been placed in the first rank of English Dra- 
 matic compositions, by that learned and admired 
 philosopher Harris of Salisbury. 
 
 Sterne has also shewn himself a master of nature 
 and art by his imitation of the simplicity of scrip- 
 tural language, which is interspersed through many 
 parts of his works. His Sentimental Journey shews 
 with ivhat addre?s he has used the many tender pas- 
 sages to be found in the Book of Ruth. 
 
 But says Stanley * in his thoughts on Ti^agedy^ 
 " the generality of modern productions sport with 
 the imagination, but do not interest the heart> 
 please the fancy, but the affections are fast asleep.'* 
 
 Among the most recent wooers of the Tragic 
 muse, Mr. Boaden claims our notice; many parts of 
 his Dramas prove the labour of a gi*eat and polished 
 mind, and shew requisites for the composition of a 
 Tragedy far beyond his present efforts. If he has 
 not been so successful in rendering his plays per- 
 manent vehicles of public amusement^ it is owing to 
 his too great a love of metaphor and poetic imagery, 
 which pleases in the closet but does not assail the 
 heart in representation. Were this gentleman to avail 
 himself of the imitation of our best" English models, 
 and substitute nature for pompous expression, we 
 have every reason to believe his genius is equal to 
 
 * These ingenious and learned reflections are affixed to a Dra-^ 
 matic poem called, *' Elmira," published at Norwich in the year 
 1790, by the above gentleman whose real name is Quin, and who is 
 now editor of the Traveller, and proprietor of the Mirror of the 
 Times ; the Dramatic critiques which come from his pen are highly 
 worthy public attention, as they display genius, learning, and art ex- 
 wnsive knowledge of the Scenic arto 
 
 N 
 
(90) 
 
 a Drama that would not be disgraced when com- 
 pared with the labours of Otway or Rowe. 
 
 If Mr. Kemble could give as many beauties with 
 his pen, as he repeatedly imparts to the works ot 
 others, he would then stand alone as a Dramatic 
 writer, as he has long done as an actor, but his 
 Tragedy of *^ Bellisarius," is an instance to con- 
 firm the well known remark, that a man may 
 be an excellent Tragedian, and but an indifferent 
 writer of Tragedies, and the reverse of the observa- 
 tion is known to have been the case with Shake- 
 speare and many others of a more recent date, 
 whose pencils have drawn characters which their re- 
 presentation has deformed. The most conspicu- 
 ous of this gentleman's dramatic works *, is *^ Lo- 
 doiska," which if viewed as a piece of composition 
 deserves no small shaie of panegyric, and when 
 
 ♦ In justice to the genius of Mr. Kemble, we think it our duty to 
 mention that he has been particularly happy in a pastoral poem, 
 'ft'hich contains all the beauty and simplicity of the ancient Arcadian 
 song. Several erudite friends of the author have gone so far as to ob- 
 serve, it possesses all the sweetness of verse and simplicity of charac- 
 ter, to be found in the Idylliums of Theocritus. This is a species of 
 writing considered most difficult to perform as the language must 
 be simple yet lively, the sentiments striking, but perfectly applicable 
 to the rude state of a swain. There is an ease and elegance belonging 
 to pastoral poetry, which some of our best English poets have failed 
 in giving to the shepherd's tale ; from dsecribing his passions and 
 actions in sentiment and language too elevated for his condition. But 
 Mr. Kemble has been peculiarly happy in this particular, and has 
 made the best use of ancient example for the formation of a poem 
 which was purchased with the utmost avidity. We cannot assig^n any 
 reason for the author not having republished it; however, as any ef- 
 fort of a man of Mr. K.'s genius must at all times be acceptable to our 
 readers, we shall therefore give diflFerent parts of this Poem with re- 
 marks on it, in the second part of this Work. 
 
(91 ) 
 
 seen with the pomp of Stage drapery, is an elegant 
 Dramatic spectacle. 
 
 The Drama of '' Deaf and Dumb/' is reported to 
 have been his translation from the French, and by 
 him adapted to the taste of our nation. In this 
 piece he has been very successful in the delineation 
 of character, and has given importance to most of the 
 personages of the Play ; he also stands very high in 
 public opinion for his judicious alteration of many 
 of Shakespeare's plaj^s. 
 
 We cannot leave this gentleman as a writer, with- 
 out expressing a belief, that if his professional du- 
 ties would give him a due portion of time, his re- 
 fined mind and great knowledge of the Drama and 
 the Stage, must render him competent to the writing 
 of a very excellent Play. 
 
 1. tIE love of glory even in those who affect an in- 
 difference to its charms, must be considered as the 
 spring of almost every action either great or re- 
 markable ; but glory in different minds has dissimi-^ 
 lar forms ; it leads the hero to destroy, the philoso- 
 pher to benefit mankind, and the Player to illustrate 
 the actions and passions of men in all the various, 
 forms with which our nature is characterised; with 
 this physical stimulus the Stage, amidst the num- 
 ber of pursuits that feed the ambitious, has been 
 an alluiing medium fox, the gratification of humaa 
 
( 92) 
 
 vanity, and has occasionally been honoqred with 
 persons of the greatest genius in the country. An 
 investigation therefore of the talents of those ladies 
 and gentlemen who support. the national Drama^ 
 will not we think be unacceptable to our readers, (ind 
 having no personal intimacy or prejudice we shall 
 therefore examine their merits not according to their 
 respective consequence in either Theatre, but as 
 they successively occur to us. As a Comedian Mr. 
 John Ban-nister has been the subject of our notice for 
 several years; we 'do not mean to inform our readers 
 of any thing new in observing that this gentleman 
 when a youth was a favourite of the immortal Gar- 
 rick, but his public exertions tend to shew that the 
 good opinion of that great master of the Scenic art 
 with respect to him, has been amply verified, as Mr. 
 B. has progressively ripened into an actor of the first 
 description. 
 
 It is not within our ability to analyse all the dif- 
 ferent characters he has personated, but we shall go 
 over the merits of a few, in order to shew our opi- 
 nion is founded on fact. The first part that presents 
 itseirfor consideration, is Lenitive in the Farce of 
 '^ The Prize," and though the character is less con- 
 fined to nature than many others, yet it requires the 
 first rate talents to render it palatable to every de- 
 scription of auditors, as too much extravagance of 
 treatment would burlesque the part and disgust the 
 audience; the manner in which Mr. Bannister gives 
 the author, and those delicate touches his Scenic ef- 
 forts illustrate in the personification of the whimsical 
 apothecary, may be ranked among his hapj)iest ex- 
 ertions, and what shews it to be an unique piece of 
 
(93 ) 
 
 MCtIng, is thai many respeqtable performers have 
 been afraid to attempt the part, and those whose 
 courage have carried them beyond prudence, have 
 either made it unpleasantly extravagant or insipidly 
 ridiculouB. If we recollect right, the " Prize" h,as 
 iiever beqn performed at the Hay-Market Theatre 
 since Mr, B. left that house, owing to the difficulty 
 of gettini^ any one to sustain his part. Bowkitt in 
 the Farcet of the " Son-in-Law," is another charac- 
 ter in which he stands alone; the exquisite beauties 
 of a great; actor are visible in every line of his deli- 
 very. The most critical eye might look in vain 
 for defect,, and if an auditor had the rigid features 
 of Diogemes, Bannister's song and his fiddle scene 
 would rela jc them into a laugh ; this is also a part 
 that no pn«5 has ventured to assume since this gentle- 
 man quitted the Hay-Market house. 
 
 The character of Sadi in " the Mountaineers/' 
 has never been performed by any other theatrical 
 gentleman with that original and rich humour, 
 which characterises Bannister as its representa- 
 tive, and many respectable actors have found their 
 own deficiency when they assumed the " Happy 
 Tawny Moor." — His young Philpot in the " Ci-- 
 tizen," is a natural display of the passions and man- 
 ners ot^ a wild youth ; the more we look at him in 
 that part the closer he approaches a being in real 
 life, under the impressio^i described by the author, 
 the character is finely drawn by Mr. Murphy, and 
 Bannister's delineation renders it conspicuously great. 
 Trudge in '' Inkle and Yarico," is a part that 
 accords happily with his genius : we recollect tho^ 
 
( 94 ) 
 
 representation of this Opera just after the death of 
 Edwin, and the audience seemed to feel a pleasure 
 that there was one left, in whom they could find a 
 potent share of those talents which distinguished the 
 deceased Comedian. 
 
 His Gradm in " Who's the Dupe," is a wonder- 
 ful contrast to the above,, and shews his ability ta 
 change his manners and features into ai^y cast of 
 character required of him. The stitf unpolished 
 habits of a closeted pedant are particularly well de- 
 lineated with a vein of dry humour whioh is pro- 
 ductive of the most irresistible laughter. 
 
 No part requires a gi^eater versatility of power, 
 than Walter in the '' Children of the Wood," the 
 sudden transition of the pas&ions which distinguishes 
 this part, is given by Mr. bannister with astonish- 
 ing ability; the scene where he loses the children, 
 evinces strong sensibility, and displays the posses- 
 sion of the finest feelings. The supper sceqe where 
 Jost'phine sings a song applicable to the distress that 
 pervades his mind, occasions acting of the most 
 perfect kind, and when the children enter the room„ 
 they give cause to his sudden change of passion, 
 which forms one of the finest pictures of Scenic ac- 
 tion that the Stage can hpast of. 
 
 His personification of Btu " in Love for Love,** 
 shews a great versatility of talent^ he delineates the 
 rough sailor with true characteristic fire and exact- 
 ness. — Robin in " No Song no Supper," is of the 
 s^me description, and rendered highly interesting by 
 liis Scenic powers. 
 
 in the Coiyedy of the Rivajs^ he pourtrays the 
 
(93) 
 
 character of jicres with the most judicious discri- 
 mination, the duel scene is effective of the utmost 
 mirth by the oddity of his action and richness of 
 humour. 
 
 We now come to apart that requires a greater 
 variety of talent for its support than ahnost any 
 character in the EngHsh Drama. Colonel Feigiiwdl 
 in '" the Bold Stroke for a Wife/* contains a con>- 
 pound of almost every passion that is allied to our 
 nature, and requires an opposite cast of features, 
 manners, and action ; yet, Mr. Bannister assumes all 
 the changes of person with the happiest effect, and 
 those who are unacquainted with the Comedy, 
 would be led to believe that the various individuals 
 he represented, were not performed by the same 
 person, but personified by different actors from the 
 accuracy that accompanies his change of counte- 
 nance, the position of his limbs, with all those deli- 
 cacies of description that colour the efforts of a 
 great actor. 
 
 Those persons who saw Edwin in Lingo sup- 
 posed it presumptuous in any one, to sustain this 
 part immediately after the demise of that celebrated 
 and justly admired comedian, and many we recol- 
 lect went prejudiced to see Mr. Bannister in that 
 part, expecting a disgusting failure to be the result 
 of his arduous effort, but the audience became al- 
 most electrified, when they saw this gentleman give 
 his author with the best possible effect unattended 
 with servile imitation, in which he evinced original 
 conception, and the ability to display the richness of 
 its source in all the various paths allotted to the 
 Comic muse. 
 
. (96) 
 
 Syhesttr Daggerzcood is an unique piece of acting 
 of the most whimsical kind, and we may venture 
 to affirm the part could not be sustained by any 
 other performer with such a happy effect. 
 
 There are many other characters that must live 
 in the recollection of our readers, which shew the 
 versatility of his powers and a refined judgment in 
 the adaptation of his action to the multifarious parts 
 he represents in the course of a season. Bannister 
 runs from one passion into another with consum- 
 mate ease, and with all the advantages that are re- 
 ported to have made LstcH conspicuous, as men- 
 tioned by Gibber. Garrick is also said to have 
 had the ability to change his nature into various 
 forms, even in one part; this happy art of transi- 
 tion from passion to passion, was obvious in, bis per 
 sonification of ArchtVy he was one person with 
 Cherry, another with Scrub, a third with Boniface, 
 a fourth with Mrs, Sulhn, and with Aimwell t^o dis- 
 tinct persons ; and in every one of the scenes of the 
 Comedy, there was a wonderful difference in his ac- 
 tion,' voice and features, and his nature was capable 
 of suffering a sudden metamorphosis as soon as the 
 character required the transition. It is no ill com- 
 pliment to observe, that Mr. Bannister seems to have 
 studied Garrick with great success, and imbibed 
 many of the beauties which raised his immortal 
 master above the generality of Stage proft-ssors. 
 
 Our Work does not profess to narrate private cha- 
 racter, otherwise Mr. Bauniste/: gives ample room 
 for panegyric, and we hope it will never betray the 
 feature of low scarriliiy vvliich hasJ too often charac- 
 
C 97.) 
 
 terised publications of this nature, bat as the ma- 
 nagement of the Stage is a public concern^ we tliere- 
 tbre cannot feel any indelicacy in making it the sub^* 
 ject of our remark. Having been particular in our 
 inquiries with respect to the internal regulation of 
 the Theatres, it gives us infinite pleasure to observe, 
 that Mr. Bannister has the happy talent of enforc- 
 ing the Performers to the discharge of their profes- 
 sional duties without that rigid discipline, which has 
 often been thought indispensible in a Theatre ; he 
 appears to exist with his brethren as a father and 
 friend who has their esteem and affection, and 
 the Performers feel a pleasure in obliging him, 
 in all the necessary duties of his government. — As 
 a ruler Mr. B. may be fairly said to live in the hearts 
 of his people. With respect to the pecuniary af- 
 fairs of Drury Lane House, the Performers have, 
 (we understand from good authority), expressed 
 their highest approbation of the gentlemanly and 
 friendly conduct of Mr. Graham, who has been in- 
 defatigable in his endeavours to render them as hap- 
 py in that particular, as the embarrassed state of the 
 Theatre would admit of. He has hitherto made 
 them the first objects of pecuniary consideration, 
 and has been of the utmost consequence in regulat- 
 intr the monied concerns of that establishment, and 
 putting them in a fair train for early adjustment. — 
 For streno-th and refinement of mind and all those 
 
 o 
 
 qualities that constitute the polished gentleman, no 
 one is more conspicuous or better calculated for the 
 arduous ofhce he occupies than Mr. Graham ; doubt- 
 less the Lord Chancellor would not have reposed 
 such important trust in that gentleman had hi3 
 
 O 
 
( 98 ) 
 Lordship not been well acquainted with his supeifof 
 talents, v\ hicli his recent management of the Theatre, 
 has most agreeably evinced. 
 
 Before the present season Mrs. St. Ledger was 
 but httle known to a London audience, and as the 
 evil is removed that once impeded her interests on 
 the Stage; motives of delicacy prevent our canvass 
 of the iniquitous cause which kept her three year3 
 almost unemployed in the Theatre. The managers 
 must know as well as many of their observers, tiiat 
 it is their interest to foster the efforts of a woman so 
 divinely formed as this lady, when talents accom- 
 pany the graces of person. i\n audience feels an 
 additional pleasure in seeing the Stage graced with 
 a creature whose symmetry is elegantly correct and 
 enchantingly captivating, and a female with such 
 a cast of frame and dis^jnitv of mien, is no doubt a 
 potent medium of public attraction. In this lady 
 may be seen all those beauties of form that painters 
 aim to delineate, and had she been a native of 
 i\thens when its people were in the zenith of their 
 glory for the cultivation of the arts, her personal 
 perfections would have filled the poet's song and oc- 
 cupied the sculptor's labour. It not unfrequently 
 occurs, where nature has lavished personal attrac- 
 tion she has been niggardly in intellectual endow- 
 ments, but we understand that Mrs. St. Ledger was 
 formed in one of those propitious moments, whei^ 
 nature was cquaHy munificent in uniting the mind 
 of Minerva with the beauties of Venus. As an 
 actress this lady has many claims to our notice, 
 though the characters she at present personifies are 
 not of much importance, \tt Mrs. St. L. gives- the 
 
( 9.9 ) 
 nutlior with becoming propriety, and attaches great 
 interest to the parts entrusted to her. Mariana m 
 " Measure for Measure," is a part of no great con- 
 sequence, but when accompanied with her ele- 
 gance of action and justness of delineation, it 
 <:arries no ordinary degree of importance. The 
 Queen in *' Hamlet," has become a more promi- 
 ?ient portrait of Shakespeare's pencil since it has 
 been assigned to her care. She sustained Queen 
 Elizabeth in " Mary Queen of Scots" with appro- 
 })riate dignity, and drew an ample share of public 
 approbation to all her Scenes. There are many 
 otlicr characters of an oppcisite nature, which evince 
 a versatility of talent and sufficiently displays 
 her capability for the support of business of afar 
 buperior description to what she has hitherto as- 
 sumed. \\'e have been told that Mrs. St. Ledger was 
 once the idol of the Dublin Stage and possessed a 
 voice enchantingly mellifluous, but that severe indis- 
 j)osition has weakened its powers. 
 
 We must confess, we felt much surprize at the 
 beginning of the season in seeing this lady all at 
 once burst on public sight alter having been shame- 
 lijlly thrown into the back ground, for a considera- 
 ble time ; we had however the pleasure to find tiiat ' 
 both Mr. Harris and Mr. Kcmble were not insensible 
 to her professional powers, and have given her a 
 friendly portion of Stage employment; and we can- 
 not dism.ss this subject without expressing that we 
 shall always feel a greater desire to serve the talents 
 and interest of those who foster insulted merit and 
 the efforts of an unprotected female than when op- 
 IMCssion accompanies power. 
 • Mr. Collins may be estimated as a Comedian of 
 
( 100 ) 
 
 yery considerable powers, his talents display their 
 greatest vigour in rustic characters, and the personi- 
 fication of pert servants, Jabel in the '^ Jew/' and 
 Robin Rous^h Head in the Farce of " Fortune's Fro- 
 lick," manifest a species of humour peculiar to his 
 nature, and its value is much enhanced from its not 
 being the effect of imitation. If Pythagoras's doc- 
 trine of the transmigration of souls be admitted as 
 it is vulgarly understood, Collins is said to possess the 
 qualities, genius and manner of that celebrated co- 
 median Weston. We recollect that he was the 
 life of Holcroft's Comedy of " Hear both Sides," 
 which was brought out last season at Drury Lane, 
 and only lived a few nights, and notwithstanding 
 Mr. Bannister and Dowton displayed much excellent 
 acting, yet the piece was of that sombre cast, that 
 Collins appeared the only whimsical personage 
 and kept it from immediate destruction. In Mr. 
 Cherry's successful and well written Comedy he sus- 
 tains the part of a servant with the most happy ef- 
 fect, indeed his talents are of a superior kind, and 
 entitle him to a place in the first class of our 
 national Comedians. 
 
 As a candidate for Thespian fame Miss Brunton 
 has many qualifications, her person and features are 
 majestically beautiful which will always attach great 
 importance t(^her Theatrical efforts, this lady was 
 not unhappy in her delineation of Lady Townly in 
 .'' the Provoked Husband," a part of considerable 
 Aveight as it is drawn with great nicety of judgment, 
 and coloured with a most delicate pencil. It would 
 be unfair to try the strength of Miss Rilmton's ta- 
 lents by comparative merit, but as a noviciate per- 
 former, she is entitled to applause, there is however 
 
( 101 ) 
 
 a defect in her speech which her own care under 
 the correction of a judicious friend might we 
 think, considerahly improve. That want of va^ 
 riety of tone in her voice does not appear to be 
 owing to a physical defect, , we rather think it is 
 occasioned by early neglect of articuhition and so 
 become ha-bitual ; and we sincerely hope it is only 
 the etfect of habit, as at present it operates as a 
 considerable draw-back on that merit, which time 
 and managerial indulgence will render invaluable 
 to the, Theatre. MissB. evinced great improvement 
 in the second representation of the part. Her bro- 
 ther Mr. Brunton is a gentleman whose talents are 
 of no ordinary cast and give ample force to tlie va- 
 riety of characters he sustains, his voice is articulate 
 and placid, and he delivers his author with much 
 judgment. His gesture is never turbulent and often 
 well adapted, and in many characters we iiave seen 
 him very impressive. 
 
 The young lady whose name is Mortimer, and 
 who appeared in the early part of the season in 
 the character of Ophelia, in " Hamlet," possesses 
 some natural requisites for the profession of which 
 she has become enamoured, but we think it would 
 have been more adviseable in her friends to have 
 brought her out in some light musical piece, where 
 the delivery of the dialogue is scarcely noticed. In 
 the character of Ophelia, the public expect some- 
 thing more than singing, the language of the part is 
 finely descriptive of a disordered mind, and requires 
 to be delicately but impressively marked, the man- 
 ner this lady gave the author evinced a carelessness 
 in her instructors who had not taught her the proper 
 
^ fi^^^^^^ of the text with its variety of point. — ^^ There's 
 a daisy. 1 would give 3'ou some violets*; but ihey 
 P^withered all when my father died."-^These lines are 
 particularly impressive when the actress can run from 
 one passion to another, and express the sentence 
 with a gloom of countenance mixed with a suitable 
 air of wildness^; her strength of feeling should appear 
 to prevent articulation and occasion a faultering of 
 speech, yet this must be done without the appear- 
 ance of forced exertion ; her agony of mind is war- 
 ranted from the last line of the text, containing the 
 mention of him whose death has caused her in- 
 sanity — he is the sting that animates Opfie/ia's mad- 
 ness. If the language of this part had fallen within 
 the descriptive power of Mr. Kemble, Mrs. Si Idons or 
 Mrs. Powell, there are many little delicacies of pic- 
 ture which their genius would have illustrated, that 
 we think are still unknown to the Stage. This part 
 lias been several times personified by differetit 
 ladies within a few months, and none of them 
 have correctly understood the text. Mrs. H. John- 
 .son is the only one, whose delineation of the part 
 at Covent Garden Theatre is entitled to commenda- 
 tion, among the number of J?erformers who have 
 sustained the character for these several years past. 
 iMiss Morlhncr was far more successful in the part 
 of Leonora, in the nmsical farce of the " Padlock," 
 and gave proof that her voice and talents will, w ith 
 H few years experience, be no ill ornament to a 
 London Theatre. 
 
 Mr. Dignum as a singei*, deserves all the admira- 
 tion his vocal powers have obtained Uim, there is a 
 sweetness of voice which renders his vvarblings par- 
 
( 103 ) 
 
 tieularly gratifying to the ear. As an actor he cua 
 only he rated with the rest of our vocal performers, 
 who seldom blend the study of action with the con- 
 temphition of music. Mr. D. has however played 
 Sir Richard Vtrnon in ** Henry the Fourth/' and 
 several other parts with more than common ability, 
 the beauties of this gentleman's voice are said to be 
 more effective in a room than on the Stage ; in ei- 
 ther, we must consider him a delightful singer. 
 
 For the profession of acting, how few can we ex- 
 pect to see perfectly endowed ! How" many and how . 
 rare are the attributes ! To enumerate these, will be 
 to consider the qualifications possessed by one of 
 our fir:it rate actresses; we therefore select Mrs. 
 Powell. This lady*s person is majestically beau- 
 tiful, her face is remarkably handsome and particu- 
 larly expressive, she has a full mellow-toned voice 
 peculiarly adapted to the pathetic, and so flexible 
 as to be capable of expressing with all imaginable 
 force the anger of the liaughty resentful JItrmioue, 
 or the maternal tenderness of the grief worn de- 
 jected Jndromachc. — Her action graceful and ener- 
 getic, her deportment dignified and elegant, her 
 judgment correct, and her pronunciation clear and 
 distinct, we shall seek in vain for a person more 
 highly qualified by nature to arrive at perfection in 
 the histrionic art, than the present heroine of the 
 national Theatre. The eye of stupor itself cannot 
 behold this actress with indifference, she beguiles 
 us into a belief that she is really the person she re- 
 presents; when she assumes the appearance of des^- 
 pair, we observe " tears in her eyes, distraction in 
 her aspect." She gives us unequivocal proofs that 
 
( 104 ) 
 
 she is herself under the influence of the passion she 
 counterfeits^ and compels ns to listen to her sor- 
 row and sympathize in her distress ; indeed we may 
 with justice pronounce her the actress of nature. 
 There is scarcely a character of consequence that 
 this Fady has sustained, in which we might not with 
 truth give testimony of her excellence ; but perhaps 
 the vigour of her genius was never so thoroughly 
 shewn as in her performance of Hamlet, here she 
 had ample room for the display of her uncommon 
 powers, the discriminating good sense which m.arked 
 every passage, and the correct emphasis observed 
 throughout this difficult character, proved how dih- 
 gently she had studied it, and yet her pathos ap- 
 peared so natural, and her manner appeared so easy 
 and unaffected, that ah auditor might have sup- 
 posed she had simply learned the words of the part 
 by rote, and relied upon the feelings of the mo- 
 ment to prompt her to deliver them with truth and 
 propriety. The violence of grief subdued by time 
 and despair softened down to a resigned and settled 
 melancholy, are the leading traits in the character of 
 lady Randolph, who can hear the harmonious lines, 
 
 ** Ye woods artel wilds, whose melancholy gloom 
 ** Accords with my souls sadness, <S:c." 
 
 i*ecitcd by Mrs. Powell in the most pathetic strain 
 imaginable, without immediately becoming as it were 
 possessed with the grief which seems labouring in 
 her breast ? Who can command their feelings in 
 the agony of despair, when she thus reproaches 
 the stranger. 
 
 «* Inhuman as thou art, how couldst thou kill 
 " What waves and tempest spared ?" 
 
( 105 ) 
 
 Again when she discovers iier long lost son to be 
 young Norval, she exclaims 
 
 ** 'Tis he! 'tis he himself! It is my son, 
 
 *' Oh sovereign mercy! 'Twas my child I saw." 
 
 with so much warmth, with such a glow of joy that 
 it is impossible to describe the sensation, the throb 
 qi' pleasure it produces in the feelipg heart. In how 
 truly delicate, in how elegant a manner does the 
 poet convey his meaning, when he makes Ladj 
 liandolph say, 
 
 *' I found myself 
 ** As women wish to be who love their Lords." 
 
 A more happy expression was never heard from a 
 man, nor ever more happily uttered than from the 
 lips of the actress who is Uie subject of these obser- 
 vations; she seems indeed throughout this character 
 inspired by the very same genius that dictated to 
 the author while he composed one of the most pcr^ 
 Icct tragedies in the English language. How op- 
 posite to the last is the character of Lady Macbeth } 
 Here fiend-like ambition wades to regal grandeur 
 through rivers of gore, and the purple robe of 
 royalty conceals the bloody vestments of a mur- 
 deress ; still we observe the same excellence in the 
 actress, and that voice which before '^ won all hearts 
 with softness, now with spirit awes." The -incon- 
 sistent Elvira must not pass unnoticed, the judg- 
 ment with which the dramatic defects ,of this cha- 
 racter are softened down by the actress, deserves the 
 highest praise and is a proof of her admirable dis- 
 crimination; it is impossible to be reconciled to this 
 heroic lady or receive her with common patience, 
 
 P 
 
( 106 ) 
 
 unless, she is presented to us by a very finished Ac- 
 tress. Portia in the " Merchant of Venice^" is a 
 character which blends the elegance of genteel Co- 
 medy with the dignity of Tragedy ; the vivacity, 
 ease, and spifit of ^u accomplished lady^ with the 
 serious, grave, and majestic deportment of consci- 
 ous virtue, armed in the cause of truth and ju^^tice. 
 From these contrarieties we can scarcely expect to 
 see many perfect representations of Portia, Mrs. 
 Powell is in this character every thing that the most 
 fastidious critic can expect; the 1 ght and "playful 
 with A^^msfl, the tender anc| most affecting with 
 Bassatiio, and the impressive and dignified personage, 
 in the trial scene; indeed all the parts of the cha- 
 racter are given with such wondertid effect, that we 
 are at a loss whether to gfve the palni to her Cam ic 
 or pathetic description. 
 
 In the Opera of " The Wife of Two fliisbands/" 
 there is a scene in which Mrs. Povvel/ displays the 
 possession of the most surprising Scenic powei s, and 
 never fails to agitate the auditors mind and obtain ap- 
 plause, from the delicate and affecting manner, in 
 which she makes herself known to her fatlier. In the 
 Y^n oi Alicia, she illustrates the author with most 
 consummate skill and "ives new beauties to his 
 Play. Phocia in the " Grecian Daughter," is no 
 ordinary effort of mimic action, aj)d shews the 
 energies of her niind and the ability with which she 
 turns, her gigantic couce})tion into practical and po- 
 tent use, in giving all those niceties of tint and 
 shade that the character will admit of. Miilivood 
 in the Tragedy of " George Barnwell," must he ah^o 
 ranned among this lady's happy efforts. There are 
 
( 107 ) 
 
 many other cliaracters if the size oF our work would 
 admit, on which we could dwell as a connoisseur on 
 a fine picture, whose beauties are increased the more 
 the subject is inspected. But we must not pass 
 over the Queen in Hamlet which has been generallj 
 considered in a Tlie«tre an unf'avonrable part to an 
 actress, yet Mrs. PovveH has given it tt new fea- 
 ture, and rendered the royal lady more interest- 
 ing to an audience from the importance her acting 
 has attached to the character. 
 
 In this lady are assembled all those perfections of 
 person and mind which distinguished many of our 
 actresses, whose beauty and talents have been so 
 glowingly described in the pages of Theatrical Bio- 
 graphy. , ; 
 
 That plain palpable simplicity of nature which 
 CoiXEY Gibber has so highly panegyrised ift 
 NoKES the Comedian, is evidently in the posses- 
 sion of Mr. Emery, whose powers as an actor ma- 
 nifest talents peculiar to himself; there is an in- 
 effable ease, yet strength of description that ren- 
 ders his personification of rustic characters singu- 
 larly great; the auditor does not see a person la- 
 bouring to be whimsical in the habilitnents of a 
 countryman, but a simple creature whose looks,* 
 manner of giving the words and action, accord so 
 naturally with each other, that the spectator is led. 
 to believe the person on the Stage, is the very cha- 
 racter he represents. In confirmation of our opinion^ 
 we think his Dan in " John Bull,'* is a striking in- 
 stance of his great Scenic powers, his delivery of the 
 author is completely easy and perfectly appropriate 
 to the habits of a country lad : the Scene where he 
 
( m ) 
 
 informs De««is Btilgruderi/ how lie beat the bailifl' 
 in old Thornbury's house with the waninng-pan, i;* 
 as great an effort of mimic action as ever adorncci 
 the Stage. As the representative of Sheep/ace, 
 Emery is particularly happy, and gives an entire 
 new feature to the part. Sam in the Farce of 
 " Raising the VV ind/' makes a prominent picture of 
 rustic artfuhiess; the play of his features when 
 ^errj^ Diddlcr wants to borrow eightpence of him, 
 and the natural rustic caution which belong to the 
 Yoi'kshire clown are finely depicted by this Co- 
 median. 
 
 Lwnp in the musical after piece of " Love lauglhs 
 at Locksmiths,". is a rustic of another description, 
 and characterized by a pure simplicity of conduct ; 
 Emery enters into the nature of the patt with the 
 wiost consummate skill, and delineates his author ii* 
 the most delicate colours. 
 
 There is a cast of character of a widely different 
 Mature, in which he is equally original and great. 
 We recollect the part of GiObei iq the " Beau;c 
 Stratagem," was well sustained by Mr. Cubiit 
 once of Covent Garden Theatre, indeed it was con- 
 sidered bis best character and appeared to suit hhi 
 qast of ^features better than any other, but Mr. 
 Emery has the art of making up his face and 
 twistinghimselfintoFARouHAK's well-drawn portrait 
 of the travelling captuin with so much address, that 
 an auditor would scarcely suppose it was possible 
 for him to soften himself into any part in which 
 simplicity and innocence of habit were its leading 
 features. Orson in the " Iron Chest," is a character 
 which exhibits nature in the coarsest features of 
 
( KXJ > 
 
 barbarism, and it has been rendered very conspicu- 
 ous by this Couiedian's assumption of the part, his 
 first appearance in the Robber seemed to .impress 
 the audience, that they had only seen the shadow 
 of Orson before; Mr. Emery's delineation of tiie 
 part is a fine picture of savage nature characterized 
 by a pecuhar justness of colouring. 
 
 We have also seen this gentlemen in Rawbold in 
 the. same Play, and though the character is quite 
 of an opposite cast to the above, yet he worJied him- 
 self into its nature with tlie happiest effect, which 
 manifests the possession of abilities for tlie support 
 ef Scenic personages however contrasted they may 
 be in their nature. Without wishing to lessen the 
 abilities of the performers who gave their exertions 
 to the Drama of *' Delays and Blunders," on the 
 first night it was offered for public approbation, we 
 must however be permitted to express a belief, that 
 Emery's part of Robert Granger though trifling in 
 itself was the salvation of the Piece. There ar^ 
 many other parts which exist as corroborative evi- 
 dence of this Comedian's possessing qualities not at^. 
 ttmdant on one actor in a century. A report is in 
 circulation, that the mother of tliis gentleman was 
 engaged at Cuvent Garden this winter, and is to 
 make her entre next season ; her talents and expe- 
 rience in the affairs of the Stage, it is said will be a, 
 valuable acquisition to the Dramatic Corps of that 
 house. 
 
 There appears a delicacy of nerve in Mr. Hol- 
 land, that is too often an impediment to merit, and 
 frequently lessens the powers of an actor, vvhoscj 
 
(110) 
 
 conception lias done every justice to the character* 
 eiitrusteJ to him; hud this gentleman' possessed a 
 greater portion of confidence, bis professional exer- 
 tions would have greatly increased his celebriry. 
 We understand his native vigour of intellect is un- 
 der the direction of a refined education, which mu^t 
 materially assist his public efforts; his figure is by no 
 means uni^raceful and his deoortment not inelegant. 
 We recollect he sustained the part o^ jllonzo in the 
 Play of " Pizarro*V at Drury Lane Theatre, in con- 
 sequence of Mr. C. Kemble's indisposition, and 
 gave the energies of the author with a forcible ef- 
 fect that produced general satisfaction. His per" 
 sonification of several other characters of an oppo- 
 site cast in the Drama, entitle him to a better line 
 of business than has hitherto fallen to his share. 
 
 Among the many singers who are honored with 
 public patronage, no one can boast that variety of 
 talents which is united in Signora Storace ; there is 
 a most bewitching vivacity in her manner peculiar 
 to herself, and particuhuly gratifying to an audi- 
 ence ; if this lady possessed only an ordinary share 
 of vocal ability, or were even unable to turn a com- 
 nuni tune, her Comic powers would rank very high ; 
 but the most scientific pcn^ple of those nations, where 
 music and singing are extravagantly admired and 
 encouraged, have distinguished her for grei\t powers 
 of voice and sweetness of expression, which have 
 ♦riven delight in the Theatres of Itnly, Germany and 
 France. Tlie principal parts in which she stands un- 
 rivalled are, iMargarctta in '* No Song no Su[)pcr," 
 CarQtintia *' the "Prize," Fhrdla in " My Grand-- 
 
( HI ) 
 
 mother, LiUa in '' The Siege of Belgrailo." There 
 «re Aiiany other Fashionable Operatic . Dranias 
 that become vehicles of additional entertainment, 
 when enlivened with that combination of ability, 
 which particnlarly characterises this lady above any 
 one who assumes the same cast of parts. 
 
 The annals of Theatrical history furnish ns with a 
 number of instances, of many very excellent Come- 
 dians having been some years in a Theatre before 
 the public had an opportunity of appreciating the 
 extent of their rsspective merits, either from their 
 not having been employed in a cast of character 
 most suitable to their nature, or being but seldom 
 seen on the Stage. SVe think Mr. Cherry stands in 
 this predicament, as his line of business is at pre^ 
 sent occupied by many favourite Comedians, but 
 when a vacancy gives him a greater share of em- 
 ployment, the Public will not be insensible to the 
 vigour of his Comic powers. He has however per- 
 sonified a few characters this season, that will ma- 
 terially tend to encrease his celebrity as a Come- 
 dian, who is happily gifted with tiiose qualities'* that 
 mnst please a metropolitan audience. 
 
 * The Comedy of the *' Soldier's Daughter" having been brought 
 out after we had finished our remarks on the Dramatic writers of the 
 jjresent day, we are therefore under the necessity of making it the 
 suDJect of our notice in this part of our Work. As the pubhc prints 
 have amply expanded on the nature of its plot, the construction of 
 the incidents, and the style of its diction ; little is left to observe with 
 respect to the piece that would be novel to our readers, yet we cannot 
 pass the Comedy over in silence. If a Drama is offered to the public 
 view as a regular Play, its contents ought to be politically and mo- 
 rally useful to the state, and perfectly congenial to the established re- 
 -ligion of the people to whom it is oBercd, in this particular the author 
 has not been unmindful. The plot is founded on principles that give 
 some of the most useful lessons on social duty and philanthropic ^q- 
 
i Ml ) 
 
 Mrs. flumphvpvs is onl}^ to be viewed as a novi* 
 ciate performer, ?he has liowever appeared as liie 
 
 fion,—rbc incidents are worked up with considerable ability and are 
 eficctive ot every force the author intended in their delineation. The 
 characters aic happily contrasted, and their humour and reflections 
 are evidently the oHspring of original conception f^raced in the gar- 
 ment of ell gant and ne; voas language. A Drama of this construction 
 is a code of valuable morals, carryint^ all the bewitching forms of at- 
 traction and impression which a government must applaud, as a gi- 
 gantic effort to keep the' national mind alive to all those duties that 
 preserve the purity of the English c^haracter, and encrease the love of 
 our constitution. 
 
 . Now we are on the subject of Dramatic coinposition, we must be 
 permitted to notice the Comedy written, and recently produced, by 
 Mr. Holman, at Covent Garden Theatre, and our motive fur discus- 
 sinj; its merits, does not arise from a passion to dwell on the unsuc- 
 cessful enorts of an author, as we would rather sound the trumpet 
 to an individual's glory, than make it speak to his shame and mortifi- 
 cation ; but since astoiyof an injurious nature has been circulated to* 
 the prejudice of Mr. Kemblc, b:;ing actuated by a love of truth, we 
 shall lay before our readers the leading circumstance connected with 
 the biingirig out of Mr. Molmaa's Drama, in order that the V^ublic 
 may sec that Mr. Kemble's conduct and attention to the Play in ques- 
 tion, were of a nature highly creditable to him as a Manager and a 
 Gentleman. 
 
 In^ihe course of the present season Mr. H. presented a Tragedy to 
 the Proprietors of the Drury Lane Theatre, which they perused and rc- 
 jrcied ; and not, as we undci stand, from its want of merit, but from its 
 being coloured with too strong a hue of Politics, in which the Tyrant 
 BtiO):apnrir formed a leading character for public execration. Tlic 
 above Gtniicman thtm \\'aited "on Mr. Harris, and informed him most 
 ciuididly, that tlic Tuigcdy he was about to present hitu for jjerusal, 
 had been returned by the Proprietrtrs of Drury Lane, but observed that 
 Mr. Harris would confer an additional obligation to the many he had 
 already received, if he would give the piece a reading. After a lapse 
 of a day or two, iVli. Hams waited on Mr. Holman, and expressed hi* 
 apjirobation of the language and sentiments of the Tragedy, but 
 tJioiight it would UMt be an admissible vehicle of entertainment to the' 
 Public, and added if Mr. 11. had a Comedy by him, he would bring if 
 out, without aualyshf^ Us vieal*. 'lliis oflTer was received by the au- 
 thor with every madi of gi at nude, as it was not only very friendly, 
 but highly complimentary to his talents; accordingly Mr. Holman 
 took his Play to theTiicatrc, where it was read, rehersed, and brou^^ht 
 out wkh all possible dispatch. As tar as Mr. Harris't; amiable dispo- 
 sition and goodness of hcaxt are concerned, he is entitled to tht most' 
 
( 113 ) 
 
 ropre?cntatlve of Lady Caroline Braymore in the 
 Coinedy oF " John Ball," and figured the Authoi-'s 
 portrait with a happy effect. ^ 
 
 unnmiteri pane^^^Tic, but as a Manager of a Theatre who ha<? an im- 
 portant duty to discharge to the Public, he ought to govern as a judge 
 on the throne of justice, where partiality and prejudice should never 
 approach, otherwise the Public are liable to be continually drawn from 
 their dwellings, and become insulted auditors of any vile Drama, which 
 friendship or interest may recommend to the Stage, and which the 
 Manager may take the liberty to exhibit, though a stranger to its in- 
 ternal merits, and value the Piece in proportion to his esteem for the 
 i\uthor, or the interest that may bolster him up. It is a particular 
 hardship on the Public when they are convened on such an occasion ; 
 for that m<<ney which is allured from their pockets for the sight of con- 
 temptible novelty, would afford them a superior satisfaction when given 
 to see any of our best English Dramas ; consequently that Play which 
 is offered to the town void of every thing that constitutes genuine Dra- 
 ma, (to use a strong but just term) is legally robbing the Public of 
 their time and money. It clearly appears to us that the friendship of 
 Mr. Harris carried him beyond his usual sagacity, but if any one 
 should be inclined to state that Mr. Harris had read the Play, then we 
 are under the necessity of thinking, that he either wilfully trifled with 
 the Public, or his powers of discrimination are not so vigorous as 
 they have been. 
 
 However in compliment to the manager we will take it for granted 
 as we have understood, that he never read the Comedy, otherwise his 
 good sense would not have suffered the exhibition of Mr. Holman's 
 ill formed progeny. Now for a close enquiry into Mr. Kemblc's con- 
 duct as supervisor of the Play in question, the wicked insinuation 
 Which some of his friends circulated, went to import that Mr. Hol- 
 man had a serious quarrel with Mr. Kemble, and accused him of 
 cutting and abrid?;ing so many parts of his Comedy, that the connec- 
 tion and beauty of its symmetry were entirely lost, which gave cause 
 tr» its destruction, but to the honour of the author he has avowed to 
 every one who addressed him on the subject, that Mr. Kemble gave 
 more than managerial attention to the getting up of his Plav, and had not 
 taken the least liberty with the pruning knife, and so far from Mr. K. 
 having injured him, that his polite attention to the business of the Stage 
 during every rehearsal will ever live on his mind with a lively sense of 
 pleasure and gratitude ; and he also observed that Mr. K. had exceeded 
 even his duty, bv kindly studying Mr. Cooke's part in case indisposition 
 kept that Performer from the Theatre, so that no apparent evil should 
 operate as an impediment to the effect of his Play. But had not the au- 
 thor said a word to do away the gross calumny which was dissemi-* 
 
( 114 ) 
 
 As a singer, Mr, Hill cannot be placed in th« 
 same rank with the mellifluous Incledon^ yet he is 
 
 nated against the acting manager, the impartial observers of the 
 Drama must be satisfied that he could not have injured the Piece. 
 
 From the pen of a man who has had his mind stored with all the 
 beauties of ancient and modern erudition, an auditor would expect a 
 Play formed according to rule, illustrated with dignity of thought in 
 all the graces of composition — that the plot should be a basis of some 
 strength to warrant an importance of action and give scope for a hap- 
 py contrast of character, whose business should be highly interesting 
 and instructive, and whose sentiment should carry originality of con- 
 ception and delicacy of diction, and that every scene should produce 
 progress in the Drama, the termination of which, should differ from 
 the expectation of the audience and produce a happy conclusion.—* 
 "With this outline of what ought to come from a man of his education, 
 let us review the offensive bantling of his brain. The plot, (if it de- 
 serves the name), had an unnatural connection and a disgusting ten- 
 dency, — the incidents bore no feature of genius or judicious arrange-^ 
 ment, and the beginning of every scene informed the auditor how it 
 would terminate. The characters were ill jumbled together, without 
 a probable reason, and the language was inelegant, and conveyed senti- 
 ments as common and as weak as the other parts of the play. — A well 
 written Drama even cut and mangled by the power of a manager, 
 would be like a picture by Titian or Raheris, in a demolished state, 
 where a hand, face, &c. is a gem of itself, and when separated from 
 the torn canvas is preserved as a study, from the beauties and force of 
 the master's pencil ; but if any of the sentiments of Mr. Holman's 
 Drama were selected from the piece, we could not find a thought to 
 cherish, or a period to admire. 
 
 If Mr. Holman came under our present view as an actor, we should 
 be very diffuse in our panegyric. There are some of his Dramas en- 
 titled to commendation, but however he may be the object of our ad- 
 miration either as a performer or a polite and well bred man, we 
 cannot sacrifice truth notwithstanding our respect for the many 
 good qualities which distinguish him. — These ingenuous remarks 
 arise from a wish to see the Stage and its professors flourish, as the rc-^ 
 splendent and dignified pillars of the nation's glory, but as long as trifles 
 are received as a substitute for sense, wit, and moral instruction, the 
 use and philosophy of the Theatre will be tarnished, and the performers 
 become as useless to society as their profession. With this impres- 
 sion we boldly avow ourselves an opponent to whatever Drama 
 may appear on the Stage, which has no better claims to Public pa- 
 tronage than the recent piece produced by Mr. H. and we must be 
 Verraitted to observe, that the Public may depend on the impartiality 
 
( 115 ) 
 
 Jiighly useful to the Theatre, and has occasionally 
 been a respectable substitute for the above gentle- 
 man, when indisposition has kept him from his duty 
 to the Public. Mr. H. has a pleasing voice and 
 genteel person, but wants a sprightliness and ease 
 of deportment, the possession of which would add 
 greatly to the force of his mimic efforts. 
 
 There is a peculiar pleasure which accompanied 
 the pen, when employed in delineating the merit of 
 those persons, whose labours entitle them to a distin- 
 guished place in the history of men celebrated for 
 their great proficiency in any of the refined and 
 elevated arts. It is therefore with no small share of 
 gratification we attempt to canvass the Scenic me- 
 rits of Mr. Kemble. Before however we enter into 
 an analysis of the Public efforts, we shall make a 
 few remarks on his person, features, and voice, which 
 arise from the many illiberal portraits that have been 
 giveri of him, in which his physical qualifications 
 for the Stage, have been drawn with an ungest 
 outline and coloured with an acrimonious pencil. 
 If a foreigner who was anxious to know something 
 of the state of the national Theatre, and its profes- 
 sional ornaments, were to peruse the pages of several 
 of our recent publications on the Stage, be would be 
 led to believe that our Ejiglish Roscius partook more 
 .of the monster than the man, from the manner in 
 which the envenomed pen ol" slander had bedaubed 
 his person and character; but on seeing Mr. K. the 
 stranger would be soon satisfied that though malice 
 
 of our remarks, as wc are not in want of managerial favor nor dread 
 Hi opposition- 
 
( 116 ) 
 
 had shewn him in unfavourable colours, yet nature 
 and art had presented an elegant gentleman and an 
 accomplished actor. There is a majesty of person 
 in Mr. Kemble which nature has bestowed, as if she 
 had particularly marked him for a votary of the 
 Thespian art; his frame is so formed that his Stage 
 drapery always decorates his person w ith a becom- 
 ing elegance; had he been proportionably lusty to 
 the size of his limbs the graceful effect of his Scenic 
 liabiliments would be much reduced, but being rn- 
 ther thin his professional garments flow with all tlie 
 beauty and ease that a tasteful fancy and classical 
 niiud can suggest. For parts that require digtiity 
 and strong expression, no man ever had features of 
 & more happy cast; ihey powerfully describe all the 
 great passions that belong to elevated life and supe- 
 rior sensibility, and possess a flexibility that strongly 
 imprints what the soul feels and dictates. His 
 eyes are large and of a brilliant lustre, and always 
 have an appropriate motion to the agitation of his 
 muscles, when in their descriptive use. — His fea- 
 tures express such a majesty of mind, and possess- 
 ing the power to convey the sublime of the passions, 
 are therefore not calculated for low humour, and if 
 employed to display the ludicrous of Thalia, Mr. 
 Kemble would injure himself as a Player. iJis voice 
 may be compared to that of Demosthenes as related 
 by Plutarch, which though naturally detective, has 
 beeti greatly improved in sweetness and expansion^ 
 and rendered powerfully effective by judicious care. 
 As this gentleman laid the foundation of his present 
 welt earned fame from the persouiiicatiou of Ham- 
 let, we shall therefore make it the first subject of 
 
( 117) C^.; V^^t^^j^i^"^-^-^ 
 
 ^ur remark. To canvass bis clelineMtion of tne cha- ji^^igj^^^^gl^sy^ 
 racter in general terms would be only going over {^4jt^ 
 beaten ground, and as we tbink his performance of 
 the Dane is an effort of uncommon abibty, we shall 
 therefore enumerate some of those delicacies of pic- 
 ture peculiar to bis own descriptive powers. The 
 Play of Hamlet has been so amply illustrated by va- 
 rious and able, writers, and is so well known to the 
 Public, that any remark on the beauties of the 
 poet would be superfluous, furtber than what are ne- 
 cessary for shewing the skill of the Actor. 
 
 The Author has drawn this Prince of a reserved 1/ ^ /} 
 and cautious turn, arising from .a melancholy im- ' 
 pressed on his mind by his faiher*s untimely death, 
 and some consequent misfortunes. The passions 
 by which he is actuated, do not, except in a few 
 places, rise to any great vebemence, but to dis- 
 tinguish his feigned madness from bis real pro- 
 vocation for the indulgence of gloomy reflectioii??, 
 require an actor of the nicest discrimination and 
 variety of talent to give those delicacies of tirit 
 which has accompanied the Poet's pencil. In Mr. 
 .Kemble's assumption of the character we forget the 
 actor, and see the Daut \ every line of the part 
 seems to have been analysed and converted by hiia' 
 into the most perfect picture of human feeling, and 
 rendered strongly productive of the auditor's svm- 
 pathy for his interesting and affecting situation. 
 Passing over several little beauties of deliverv in the 
 first scene with the king and his mother, we cume to 
 the following soliloquy, 
 
 '• O, that this too solid flesh would melt, 
 " Thaw> and resolve itself into a dew '/' 
 
( 118 ) 
 
 which he gives with such a richness of expres- 
 sion, that it af once rivets attention and animates 
 our faculties into the Jivehest sense of his ex- 
 quisite and peculiar gifts. There are also several 
 lines in the Scene with Horatio^ Bernardo and Mar- 
 ctllus, that are finely poui trayed ; first when lie 
 says, 
 
 «* M ethinks I see my Father/* 
 and on Horatio's observing : 
 
 <* My Lord I think I saw him yesternight. 
 H. *' Saw ! Who ?" 
 
 The nanner Mr. Kerable puts the above question 
 to Horatio, is an effort in Scenic painting graced 
 with all the perfection of art, to illustrate which 
 with propriety we are at a loss for adequate terms. 
 
 We are sorry the extent of our w oik will not per- 
 mit us to follow him through those numerous pas- 
 sages of the Poet that possess a superlative beauty 
 by his consummate art of elucidation, we therefore 
 must content ourselves with only giving the most 
 prominent pictures of his action. Mr. Kemble's 
 manner of receiving his father's ghost, is a fine mix- 
 ture of astonishment and resolution, and the rever- 
 ence which he preserves in speaking these words, 
 " Go on, I'll follow thee," 
 
 is a happiness of art which is only to be found in this 
 Actor, CoLLEY CiBBER has minutely described the 
 manner in which Bett'erton personified Hamlet, 
 and has been particularly illustrative of the beauties 
 Cf his descriptive power in tliis Scene, and as far as we 
 can form an opinion from the language of CiBBEa 
 and the uciing of Keinble, we think there is not a 
 
( ng ) 
 
 tint or shade which Betterton gave the prince, but 
 which may be seen in Mr K.'s delineation of the cha- 
 racter. There is a talent peculiar to this gentleman 
 which is strongly felt by an audience, but it is of a 
 nature not easily described, a happiness of action 
 and play of the features which often convev the 
 passions of a part more forcibly than the langUMi^e 
 of the poet; this art is theatrically called hyt-plaif, 
 and no one is more judicious in the display, or more 
 successful in the use of it than Mr. Kemble. The se- 
 rious part of this Tragic tale is finely relieved by 
 the poet, and this actor is extremely happy in mix- 
 insj a dignified gravity with the gaiety of the scholar,. 
 in the scene where he swears Horatio and his com- 
 panions to secrecy, with respect to his father's 
 ghost. — Again, when Polonius says, 
 
 <* What s the matter, my Lord? 
 H. ** Between who ?" 
 
 Mr. Kemble is particularly happy in this question; 
 It is an effort of great descriptive excellence. And 
 in the following speech he gives these lines with 
 wonderful effect. 
 
 ** For yourself, Sir, shall be as old, as 
 
 ** I am, if like a crab, you could go backward." 
 
 The gentlemanly sneer was never better displayed 
 than when Kemble shews Gvildtrsttrn and Jioscn- 
 crantZy that the nature of their visit is not unknown 
 to him, and laughs them into a confession of the 
 motive for their coming. We confess we feel our- 
 selves inadequate to give a just description of his 
 features and action, when he addresses liis visitors 
 thus. 
 
( 120 ) 
 
 " Were y«u not sent for ? Is it your own 
 
 *' Enclining? is it a tree visitation? Come, 
 
 *' Come, deal justly with me ; come, nay speak." 
 
 And on their sayipg, 
 
 ** What should we say my Lord.** 
 
 liis manner of giving the following answer, 
 
 " Any thing,— but to the purpose." 
 
 b a delicacy of Scenic painting of the most masterly 
 kind. 
 
 Then again, when he resnmes an energy of re- " 
 flection, with what exquisite dignity and feeling he 
 gives that speech in wliich the poet has so beauti- 
 fully described our nature. 
 
 ** What a piece o' work is man !" &c. 
 
 There is a subiiu^e importance in>[)arted to this 
 speech by his delivery of it, that never fails to rouse 
 Public sensibility into the titniost vigour of moral 
 reflection, which is manifested by repeated plaudits. 
 
 In the following speech \\hich breathes a vehe- 
 mence of sentiment, INlr. Kemble is particularly 
 {ine, 
 
 *'* It is not very strange : for my uncle is king of Denmark ; and 
 " those, that would make mouths at hi-n whi!e my father liv'd, give 
 ** twenty, forty, fifty and a hundred duoats a-piece, for his picture in 
 *« little. There is someth.ng in this more than natural, if philosophy 
 *' could find it out." 
 
 In tie la?t sentence he lowers his voice into a 
 hind of whisper, and contracts his features into a 
 most expressive picture of the grief that agitates his 
 mind, which is etrcclive of great admiration, 'i he 
 iorce of his feelings seems to be smothered under a 
 prudent caution, and all the light and shade of the 
 speech are marked with a mosst pleasing accuracy 
 
t 121 ) 
 
 We cannot leave unnoticed his scene with the 
 Players, where he endeavours to recollect the speech 
 he once heard, and which he wishes the Thespian 
 hero to repeat : he displays a princely dignity, 
 blended with a pleasing suavity of manners, in 
 his address to the actor, which is generally reward- 
 ed with public notice ; indeed in each scene with 
 Players he shews the genius and judgment of a very 
 refined and accomplished performer. His real ten- 
 derness lor Ophelia, and his ineffectual endeavours 
 to hide it, are distinctions which he is as nice in 
 conveying as the poet was in drav.ing. 
 
 He is also particularly great with Horatio, when 
 
 he says, 
 
 — — *' Give me that man 
 ** That is not passion's slave, and I will wear h Ira 
 ** In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, 
 *' As 1 do thee." — 
 
 In the scene where the Players come in, the King 
 asks Hamlet the name of the Play, whom he answers 
 in the most impressive manner, and gives these lines 
 tn the most finished style of acting. 
 
 ** You shall see anon, 'tis a knavish piece of work : 
 ** But what of that ? Your Majesty, and we 
 *' Have free souls, it touches us not; let the 
 ** Gaird jade wince, our withers are unwrung.'* 
 
 There are other little pictures of mimic beauty in 
 this scene, peculiar to his representation of the part. 
 We now come to the Closet Scene with his Mother, 
 where he preserves a proper air of filial affection 
 amidst the most bitter reproaches, until he gives way 
 to the awe and surprise that must naturally arise from 
 the re-appearance of the Ghost, and here are so 
 jnan\^ finished touclies of a great Flayer^ that to re- 
 R 
 
( 122 ) 
 
 cord ibem would occupy more pages than we can 
 spare to Mr. Kemble's Ilamht., but among the 
 many delicacies of his performance, in this scene^ 
 we must notice one or two. On Polomuss caUing for 
 help, and HamMs being worked up to a state of 
 frenzy, he runs behind the arras and destroys him, 
 and on his return to the Queen, who in a state of 
 , great agitation says, 
 
 ** What hast thou done ?" 
 H« Nay, I know not : — Is it the King?" 
 
 the convulsed motion of his frame at the time he 
 asks this question, and the complication of distress, 
 anger, and gratified revenge, with a hopeful belief 
 that the King had fallen a proper sacrifice to his viU 
 lainy, are finely expressed by this scenic painter: — 
 it is Kemble in all the perfection of art and taste. 
 And when he exhibits his Father's portrait, and 
 compares the dead with the living Monarch, he 
 shews how inimitably well he has conceived his 
 author, from the spirit and expression he gives to 
 the text. There is a princely dignity preserved by 
 Mr. Kemble, united with a sovereign contempt for 
 the King, when he is taking leave of him and his 
 mother for England. 
 
 It is to be observed that there are little niceties 
 in an actor's performance, or costume, that often 
 indicate a superior vigour of conception, and a re- 
 fined judgment ; and where they are manifested, 
 public approbation is but a just tribute for the care a 
 performer has taken to render his efforts as probably 
 and efiective as the subject of his exertion will admit. 
 It is evident iVom the language of Shakespeare 
 that he never intended Hamlet to appear in th€ 
 
( 123 ) 
 
 Church-yard in the same habiliments he wore on 
 leaving the royal mansion, otherwise he could not. 
 be so long concealed from public notice; besides, 
 the words of the poet confirm our opinion, when 
 lie discovers himself to Ophelias mourners, by crying 
 out 
 
 *« I am Hamlet the Dane," 
 
 Mr. Kemble displays the sense of his author better 
 even in this, as well as other respects, than any of 
 his contemporaries, in wearing a long robe, which 
 he throws otFon making himself known to the other 
 personages of the Play. 
 
 The ease and elegance this gentleman maintains 
 in the scene wih Osrick, is particularly fine and im- 
 pressive, we therefore select one of the many little 
 delicacies of picture, which accompany his interview 
 with the Fop, who says, 
 
 " I mean, Sir, for his weapon.'* 
 Hamlet enquires 
 
 *' What is his weapon ?'* 
 Osrick. ** Rapier and dagger.'* 
 
 replies Hamlet 
 
 " That's two of his weapons." 
 
 with the utmost elegance of deportment, united also 
 with a feature of scorn for the Butterfly who has 
 thrust himself into his company. 
 
 There are some portions of this character which 
 many actors have delineated with a happy effect, but 
 they have been frequently defective in keeping up the 
 general dignity of the part. Mr. K. however, never 
 loses sight of his birth and elevated rank, but eveii 
 shews the Prince in the tiourish of his rapier, and 
 preserves a greatness of demeanour to the last mo- 
 nieut of vital power. We shall conclude our remai k^ 
 
( 124 ) 
 
 on Mr. Kemh]e& riamkt in the language of Cibber: 
 .•^— " Pity it is/' says that writer, **^ that the momenta- 
 ry beautifes flowing from an harmonious elocution, 
 cannot, like those of poetry, be their own record! 
 Tliat the animated graces of the Player can live no 
 longer than the instant the breath and motion that 
 presents them ; or at best can but faintly glimmer 
 through the memory, or imperfect attestation of a 
 few surviving spectators." 
 
 Biron in the Fatal Marriage, is a Dramatic por- 
 trait which has not been drawn with tliose great 
 and striking qualities that shew Mr. Kemble to any 
 advantage as its representative. Itcontains no variety 
 of passion, and has a sameness of feature that does 
 not give scope for extensive exertion; yet the feel- 
 ings of the part seem to be well stamped on his mind; 
 from theplayof hismuscles, and thedeportment of hi« 
 action* being judiciously braced or relaxed agreeable 
 to the passions of the character; but still we consider 
 his assumption of the unfortunate Biron^ not among 
 his most happy efforts. 
 
 * There is a circumstance attending the representation of this Tra- 
 gedy, that we cannot withhold from public censure. In the last 
 Scene, which is rendered particularly interesting by Mrs. Siddons' as- 
 tonishing powers as Isabella, where she displays an accumulated load 
 of grief which misfortunes and time have progressively encreased, and 
 which swells into a state of insanity on being a witness of her hus- 
 band's death ; the sight of her dear Biron's remains, with the re- 
 collection of her past troubles, scera to press upon her mind with re- 
 doubled force, and for a few minutes deprive her of speech, but which 
 is finely shewn by a wild and senseless stare ; however, on the atten- 
 dants of the Play making an endeavour to lead her off the Stage, 
 she reluctantly goes a few paces with them, buton seeing, as if by acci- 
 dent, her lifeless husband, she resists the affected strength of the ser- 
 vants, and returns with a voilence of action, and lays hold of his hand 
 to drag him with her. As far as the effects of this effort is to be con- 
 sidered, we think it very natural, and adds an additional proof of the 
 Strength of her affection for hei beloved husband. But now comes the 
 
( 125 ) 
 
 It hasbeen said that Garrtck in assuming the sick 
 King in the Second Part of King Henry the Fourth, 
 was extremely happy in giving Shakespeare's 
 portrait every embeilishment that fine acting could 
 possibly add to the poet's picture. If we do not pre- 
 sume too much, we think it impossible that greater 
 justice could have been done to the aged and infirm 
 Monarch, than what Mr. Kemble has performed in 
 this character. Before we speak of the delicacy 
 with which he illustrates the beauties of the author, 
 we must be permitted to observe that his attention to 
 the dignity of his situation, as a King, in giving the 
 scene all the splendor the chamber of a -Monarch 
 requires, and his person all the elegance of costume, 
 shews a desire on his part to render Stage exhibitions 
 as perfect as possible for public gratification. There 
 was not an article of the most trivial description 
 connected with his scenes, but what was necessary 
 to impress on the imagination the reality of his cha- 
 racter, and the dignity of the Monarch, his dress in 
 this part displays the taste of a very refined actor. 
 
 error of which we complain. Mr. Kemble, who is supposed to be dead, 
 lifts up his leg and pushes himself while Isabella is pulling him after 
 her, here the probability of the Scene is reduced, and the Auditors 
 who a moment before were like ♦' Niobe all tears," resume a merry- 
 feature, and the curtain drops amidst a laughing audience. 
 
 We should not have made it the subject of public animadversion, had 
 not Mr. Kemble's leg been re-animated every night he died in this 
 Play, till the resurrection of that member destroyed the effect of a 
 very interesting scene, and became offensive to reflection, more par- 
 ticularly as it was done by a man of his good sense and great talents, 
 and we do not hesitate to say, that it was only public esteem for his 
 superior abilities, that prevented the audience from humbly requesting 
 him to die again. This defect might be easily obviated, if one of the 
 attendants was well rehearsed in the art of laying hold of his hand at 
 the moment his distressed Isabella attempted to pull him along, this 
 would produce the intended effect, and the curtain would drop with 
 every satisfaction to the public. 
 
( 125 ) 
 
 But however the language of the poet may be enti- 
 tled to our admiration, and Mr. Kemble*s persoiiiHca- 
 tion claim our highest eiit^Omiuin, yet the audience 
 do not feel pleased with seeing a human being so 
 long in a state of sutl'cring ; and though the poet has 
 only presefited this feeble character in one act, we 
 venture to say the PuMic would have been better 
 satirjfied if Mr. Kemble ha3*shortened his part. In 
 justice to this gentleman, he gives the text in the 
 most effective man tier, and assum(?s the passions of 
 the character with the utmost accuracy, and colours 
 them in all the perfection of art. There are one 
 or two lines whrth he gives beyond all possible de- 
 scription. First when led to his couch, he says, 
 
 •* Set me the Crown upon my pillow, here," 
 
 here the amhitiou of his nature is finely exhibited, 
 and his love of that diadem vvhich he is every mo- 
 ment on tiie eve of quitting for ever. Mr. Kemble in 
 speaking this line shews bis great knowledge of na- 
 ture, lie is filso eqiially great in the fifth scene, in' 
 giving these words. 
 
 '« Where is the Crown ? Who took it from me ?" 
 
 Many other parts of the character are finely pourtray* 
 cd by him, and evince the conception of a great 
 inind, and the performance of a great actor. 
 
 Mr. Kemble appeared this winter, for the first 
 time, in the Part of the Stranger, in the Tragedy of 
 '' Douglas." If there is any thing worthy of no- 
 tice in his assumpiioii of the Old Man, it is his stage 
 attire, which bore the feature of great novelty, and 
 ^e recollect that his deviation from the usual man- 
 ner of dressing thi§ Ciruractcr met with some public 
 
( 127 ) 
 
 reprobation, but we are inclined to think, tbat Mr. 
 Kemble's habiliments were far more appropriate tQ 
 the situation of the Old Man, than the Costume ge- 
 nerally worn ; it not only gave a becoming contrast 
 to the other Characters of the Drama, but carried a 
 pleasing rusticity of appearance. — The voice, iigure, 
 and deportment of Mr. K. do not well accord with 
 the aged rustic; his endeavours to make his voice 
 tremulous and feeble, render his etibrts ridiculous, 
 and laughable. We do not mean to censure him for 
 trying the versatility of his powers; but while he 
 can ride triumphant in a sphere where Melpomene 
 shines on him, in all the radiance of her lustre, he 
 is wrong to leave that circle beyond which she must 
 cease to protect her favorite genius. 
 
 We liad some inclination to postpone for the prcr 
 sent, our remarks on Mr. Kembie's performance of 
 OrcsteSy in the Tragedy of the " Oiscressed Mother,'' 
 as we cannot give the subject that space in oui* 
 work, it is fairly intitled to; but as his delineation of 
 the character possesses a sublimity of feature, which 
 exceeds our ability to describe with accuracy ; aud 
 is the ne plus ultra of art, we cannot refrain IVoin 
 making it a subject of limited notice. In thi third 
 Scene of the fourth Act, where lltrmione shews the 
 agony of dissappoiiited love, and works on the feel- 
 ings of Orestes to kill Pyrrhas, till he says 
 
 '* That were to make him bJest ; and me more 
 
 " Wretched r — Have you a foe, 
 
 '< And shall 1 kt him live? My rival too? 
 
 *' Ere yon meridian sun decrine;?^ he dies ; 
 
 " And you shall say, that I deserve your Jove." 
 
 Jt is impossible to bestow too much praise on the 
 whole of this Scene: but when he assumes the reso- 
 
( 128 ) 
 
 llition to destroy Pyrrhus, after a long combat be- 
 tween love, honor, and ambiuon, (in which every 
 passion of the soul is finely shewn) he delivers the 
 above language with great majesty of action and 
 beauty of expression, and so delicately softens the 
 energy of his delivery in thelastline, which expresses 
 a hope that he shall deserve her love, that fills the 
 auditors mind with the utmost anxiety for his fate. 
 In the second scene of the fifth Act, he enters w*th 
 an unsheathed sabre and" informs Ilermione, 
 
 " Madam, 'tis done : your orders are obeyed : 
 " The tyrant lies expiring at the altar." 
 
 Here he finely pourtrays a mixture of grief, with an 
 afiected satisfacion in having obliged the idol of his 
 love. Xhis information produces one of the most 
 finished and perfect pieces of acting that ever dig- 
 nified the English Stage, when she finds that Ptjir- 
 hus, the darling of her soul, had been destroyed by 
 OresteSf and rebukes the enormity of the offence ia 
 these lines 
 
 ** Peace, monster, peace! Go tell thy horrid tale 
 ** To savages, and howl it out in deserts." 
 
 and shortly after, she says in a paroxysm of rage 
 
 — ** I renounce 
 " My friends, my country, Greece, and all mankind, 
 ** But chiefly I renounce ihee ! monster thee !" 
 
 These sentiments bring on a display of the passions 
 in Ortstes that are difficult to describe, particularly 
 when he looks, as it were, within his soul, and ex- 
 presses in a state of wonder and amazement. 
 
 ** Am I awalic ! where am 1 1 soft, my soul : 
 
 «* Be not too rash. — Was that Ucrmivnef 
 
 M* Why should her anger thunder against me } 
 
 *« Was not this blood shed all by her command.*"— 
 
( 129 ) 
 
 He then begins to be alive to his degraded state^, and 
 beautifully gives a solemn and dignified pathos to 
 the following passages: 
 
 " I am indeed a most outrageous monster I 
 
 ** A Ruffian, murderer, a base assassin ! 
 
 *< And all to please a false ungrateful woman." 
 
 His mind instantly runs into a confused and hurried 
 
 reflection, 
 
 •* Hence forward let the laws of nations cease ; 
 
 ♦* And let the pale, that severs right and wrong, 
 
 ** Things sacred and profane, be broken down ; 
 
 ** Gods in their temples, kings upon their thrones 
 
 ** Are not in safety, while Orestes lives. 
 
 ** Oh never more shall my torn mind be healed, 
 
 " Nor taste the gentle comforts of repose '. 
 
 ** A dreadful band of gloomy cares surround me, 
 
 " And lay strong seige to my distracted soul." 
 
 This speech he gives with such a variety of feeling, 
 and expresses each passage with so much energy, that 
 the eye and mind of the spectator must be closely 
 ri vetted from the sublimity of his effort. On his 
 companion Pi/Iadcs informing him that Htrmione 
 had plunged the poignard in her breast, and lay 
 grasping the body of her favourite Pj/rrhus in the 
 agonies of death, he is particularly great in expres- 
 sing the pai?sions of these lines : 
 
 ** I thank you Gods, — I never could expect 
 
 *• To be so wretched ! — You have been industrious 
 
 ** To finish your decrees ; to make Orestes 
 
 *' A dreadful instance of your power to punish ; 
 
 *' I am singled out to bear the wrath of Heaven." 
 
 In his last Scene it is impossible to paint the 
 grandeur and sublimity with which he exhibits the 
 passions of his disordered intellect, all that the 
 mind can picture to itself of a great soul under the 
 aflliction of strong but insulted love, united also to- 
 S 
 
( ISO ) 
 
 the murder of a monarch, for the allusive hope of 
 Ilermione's love, and the gratification of her wl.o 
 hated him, are given by Kemble with an excel- 
 lence of delineation, that cannot be approached by 
 any Actor on the Stage. 
 
 His features, frame, indeed the whole man, takes a 
 new form, and is completely twisted into a being 
 agonized by the tortures that human insanity is heir 
 to. With what solemn but majestic wildness dqes he 
 give that ispeecb, where he says, 
 
 — '** Look where they come 
 ** A shoal of furies '.-—How they swarm about ! 
 
 If Mr. Kemble were never to play any other cha- 
 racter, Orestts^^ would immortalize him. 
 
 * Mr. Kembl* is generally very judicious in the costume of his cha- 
 racters, and is frequently punctiliously attentive to the most trifling 
 part of his Stage dress, in order to strengthen the effect of his situation 
 in the Drama ; but we do not think he has been quite so happy in 
 dressing Orestes ^ who it must be recollected, was a very early Greek ; 
 and from bishop Potter and other authorities, the Grecians of that 
 uncivilized period, never went out but in war habiliments and well 
 drmed, to guard against the sudden and frequent assaults that were 
 made by the inhabitants of neighbouring nations, who lived little bet- 
 ter than a marauding and piratical lite. The same author assures us 
 in strong and clear terms, that the ambassadors of the Grecian state<i 
 were selected from the most elevated of their inhabitants, among whom 
 Orestes must have been considered one, and that their embassy was 
 accompanied with every splendour. There is therefore every reason 
 to believe, that Orestes ought to appear before Pyrrhns in the utmost 
 elegance of apparel, not only to produce respect from the son of Aehil- 
 leSf but to display the dignity of the Court from whence he came ; 
 there is another important reason why Orestes should be habited in 
 the vestment of splendour, as he had long sought in vain to win the 
 heart of HermionCf and had canvassed the suffrage of the kings of 
 Greece, to undertake the embassy for no other real reason, than to 
 throw himself in the way of Hermionet and urge her return of love, 
 consequently it was natural for an inamorato to appear before his mis- 
 tress with every advantage dress could give his person. The language 
 of AiMcharsisy Vol. IV. page 54. and the authorities the author of that 
 great work has referred to, are certainly favourable to Mr. Ke mule's 
 wee of » plain tunic, he says, the Spartan Actors, (who, doubtless, 
 
(131 ) 
 
 These remarks on ISIr. Kemble's professional 
 eilbrts^ are only introductory to what will hereafter 
 come with respect to him. We have purposely 
 avoided going into the merits of Mr3. Siddons, 
 as it would be an act of injustice to her great talents 
 to spe;ik generally on the performance of many of 
 i]er Characters, she will be therefore a subject of 
 considerable comment in our next. From the 
 great variety of Character which Mrs. Jordan has 
 
 were close imitators of the customs of the citizens) wore, when they 
 personated a character distinguished by misfortunes, or any kind of 
 suffering, a black brown or dirty white garment, which frequently 
 hung in tatters; so Orestes from the violence of his love for Hermionc, 
 nnay be said to labour under affliction, which he wished to shew by a 
 peculiar habit that would exhibit him a sufferer ; but the text of th<j 
 play is diametrically opposite to the use of a plain tunic, as Pylades 
 addresses him in the first Scene of the first Act in these words : 
 
 *< But now with joy 1 see you! — ^The retinue 
 " And numerous followers that surround you here, 
 *' Speak better Fortunes, and a mind disposed 
 " To relish life." 
 
 The itnie of these lines convey a belief that elegance surrounded him, 
 and that the decoration of his person gave lustre to the pomp of his 
 retinue. Mr. Kemble we understand had this dress, which is of a 
 dirty white colour, from a celebrated French Tragedian, whom he saw 
 personate Orestes a short time ago in Paris, it certainly would be a 
 suitable costume for any of the Greek philosophers, whose gravity of 
 manners would accord with the plainness of the garment ; indeed wc 
 think We shall not commit ourselves in calling it a perfectly plebeian 
 habit. Anacharsts has observed, that the Grecian nobility preferred 
 cloaths of various colours, and particularly esteemed those dyed in 
 scarlet, but set a still higher value on purple, and especially on cloaths 
 of a verydeep red colour, and mixed with the violet. Had Mr. Kem- 
 ble studied any of our best Italian pictures, he would have found some 
 of the old masters more classically correct in decorating any hero, 
 who had such a character as Agamemnon for his father, than either the 
 French player or himself. If we are not much mistaken the Greeks 
 4'eneraUy wore long hair. The wig Mr. K. wears in the above. charac- 
 ter is by no means becoming, as it looks more like an old lady's worn 
 out peruke than the head dress of a Greek prince, but the whole of the 
 costume shews a great man in disguise, not an ambassador at the 
 caurt of Epirus. 
 
( 132 ) 
 
 sustained of late years, and the richness and beauty 
 she imparts to many of her characters, we must defer 
 the canvass of them for the present. — On the same 
 account, Mr. Cooke will stand over to the next. 
 
 There is a delicacy and sweetness of person that 
 attaches much interest to the vocal clforts of Mrs. 
 Mountain, which since her return from Bath have 
 been held in high and deserved reputation. She may 
 be considered a very pleasing actress independent of 
 her musical qualifications, and never fails to add 
 considerable strength and entertainment to those 
 Operatic Dramas that have her support. 
 
 Among the happy few on whom Apollo smiles 
 Mr. Braiiam appears conspicuous, both for sweet- 
 ness of pipe and knowledge of music. There is a pe- 
 culiar delicacy of voice which this Gentleman go- 
 verns with the utmost skill, that renders his vocal 
 efforts enchantingly pleasing; and we do not know 
 that we can select a better instance of proof, than 
 his Air in the '* Cabinet," of 
 
 " When absent from her my soul holds most dear," 
 
 which is a surprising natural and scientific perform- 
 ance, and appears to enslave the faculties with de- 
 light. He also warbles '' Fair Ellen" with an en- 
 chanting delicacy of note. His Duett with Signora 
 Storace, and his celebrated Polacca shew powers 
 very rarely associated in one person. A\ C cannot 
 leave unnoticed his divine andrnasterlv sinfrinir of 
 " Lovely I'i^itty," and the Duett of the " Sentry Box" 
 in the Opera of '*The English Fleet," which are ef- 
 forts in vocal art of a very superior and uncommon 
 nature. • ; ^ 
 
 Mr. Braham is a Composer of no ordinary rank:. 
 
( 133 ) 
 
 The music in the ahove Drama, it is said, brouglit 
 him a thousand pounds AMiatever amateurs have 
 advanced to reduce its originahry, and the beauty 
 and order of its organization, appears to have had 
 no injurious effect either on the sale of the ^Niusic, or 
 on its performance at the Theatre. It was evidently 
 the salvation of a very poor Opera. He has since 
 added another laurel to his brow from the pleasing 
 and highly aj)proved music that decorates ls\ r. Prince 
 floare's light After-piece of " The Paragraph." 
 
 Mrs. LiTCHFiiuLD' layi great claim to public no- 
 tice as an actress. Her performance of jEmilla in 
 '^ Othclfo'' is a very finished piece of acting, and ap- 
 peared to draw ample approbation from ever}^ part 
 of the house, particularly when Jago acknowlctlges 
 that he had told Othello that J>sc?ewo«rt had been 
 iiilse to his bed,, she gives the following words with 
 astonisliing animation and effect, 
 
 " You told a lie ; an odious damned lie;— 
 " Upon niy soul a lie ; a wicked lie." 
 
 In the Play of the " Distressed Mother" she per- 
 sonifies the ]^ix\X o\' Jndi'oinaclic in the happiest co- 
 lours, and displays all tlie tenderness of the mother 
 with a becoming resolution not to w^d the Prince 
 whose father had hurled destruction on her husband 
 lite tor. J n that scene where Aiidromache kneels be- 
 fore Pi/rrhiis to save the life of her infant Jstijanax, 
 she is partlcnlarly great. There are manv other ciiarac- 
 tcrs which meet with a powerful representative in this 
 actress, and we are sorry the public have not a more 
 freqneut opportunity to repeat those bursts of ap- 
 plause which are always merited by her professional 
 exertions 
 
 The person of Mr. Raymond is tall and well formed. 
 
( 134 ) 
 
 his features possess a flexibility of muscle, to con- 
 vey the passions of a character with a powerful 
 effect. In parts which are marked by strong feeling 
 lie is particularly successful, and gives his Author a 
 great accuracy of delineation ; we recollect his as-, 
 sumption of Carlor&itZy in the " Hero of the North," 
 which gave him an opportunity to display powers 
 highl) valuable to the Theatre, in that path where 
 Melpomene treads with solemn and majestic delight. 
 
 The public are indebted to Mr. Cumberland for 
 the introduction of Mr. Dowton to the London 
 boards, as he may be considered a great ornament 
 to the Stage. Sheva in the Comedy of the " Jew," 
 was the first part he assumed at Drury Lane Thea- 
 tre, and we never recollect a first appearance greet- 
 ed with greater approbation, than what accompanied 
 his successive scenes, from the masterly and truly de- 
 licate manner in which he illustrated the feelings of 
 the old Jew. Li pourtraying the Israelite he never 
 betrayed the imitator, but evinced the real passions 
 of the man, governed by the impressions that the 
 business of the comedy gave birth to; added to 
 which he was not as we have seen the representatives 
 of Jews, sometimes Frenchmen, sometimes English- 
 men, and often Welshmen, but he strictly adhered 
 to the dialect of ihe part, so that the audience never 
 once lost sight of the real personage; his personifi- 
 cation of the descendant of Abraham, may be 
 justly ranked as an unique piece of playing. 
 
 The History of the Stage and the Biography of 
 the Performers shew, that one time the appellation 
 of great Actor has been given to a person who had 
 only been successful in i'cw characters, and except in 
 two or three, the Performer has been useless lumber 
 
{135) 
 
 to liie Theatre But no man on the Stage is more 
 useful to a manager than Mr. Dowton, he can per- 
 sonify a versatihty of character, and deUght in all. 
 Mr. King, whose talents must ever be remembered 
 with the most pleasing reflection, found him to 
 be an able substitute in most of iiis difficult Charac- 
 ters, and the beauties King gave his Author, have 
 been found to accompany Dovvton's descriptive 
 powers, in many of those parts thatonce distinguished 
 the above Comic veteran. Among; the various cast of 
 Character which have fallen to his care. Sir Hugh 
 Evans, in Shakespeare's *' Merry Wives of Wind- 
 sor," is one in which he is superlatively great, in 
 giving the text the utmost chastity of delivery, with 
 a spirit and richness of colouring that renders it 
 delightfully whimsical, particularly in the third Act, 
 where Sir Hus:h meets the French Doctor asrreeable 
 to the challenge he sent him ; and what adds to the 
 beauty of his effort is, we never see the Welshman 
 sink into the Actor, and thereby discover the decep- 
 tion ; through every Scene Dowton maintains the 
 ancient Briton, with all the characteristic oddity of 
 tiis nature. To contrast the above, we mention 
 him as the representative of Hardcastle, in the 
 Comedy of" She Stoops to Conquer," and if he had 
 been seen in this part b}' the Author Dr. Goldsmith, 
 he would, v/e doubt not, have had the honour of the 
 Poet's eulogium. He also makes an excellent 
 countryman : if we recollect rightly the part of 
 C/od, in " The Young Quaker," was rendered very 
 conspicuous by Edwin. A few seasons ago we saw 
 Mr. Dovvton delineate the rustic, and if it be not pre- 
 «uttjptive to say so^ the Audience did not seem to miss 
 
( 136 ) 
 
 the deceased Comedian, we candidly tliink he co- 
 loured the Author's joke's in the liighest \ein of 
 Comedy, and gave every atom of humour that 
 Edwin had so often displayed in the above Charac- 
 ter. 
 
 Ilodge in ^^ Love in a Village/' is another rustic^ 
 
 as the representative of which he manifests an ac- 
 curate knowledge of nature, and the happy art of be- 
 coming the very being he pourrrays. We cannot 
 leave unnoticed his performance of Isaac, in " The 
 Duenna/' which he marks with many very excellent 
 strokes of rich humour unaccompanied with low 
 buffoonery. 
 
 'J'lie character of MalvoUo in the " Twelfth 
 Tsight," requires an Actor of very discriminating 
 powers, to enter into all the niceties of it, and to 
 give the beauties of the Author wTTh a richness of 
 description, yet preserve his portrait free from an 
 extravagance of colouring. And ]Mr. Dowton may 
 be considered as chaste a painter of the love-sick 
 steward as ever trod the Stage, liussct in the " .Ica- 
 lous Wife," and Sir Anthotiij Absolute in the Co- 
 medy of " The Rivals," are parts in which he 
 equally shines as a Comedian of the first rate talents. 
 Among the many characters that this gentleman has 
 successfully personified in our metropolitan I'hcatre, 
 no one deserves more eulogium than his Governor 
 Htartally in Cherry's Comedy of " The Soldier's 
 Daughter/' the author has drawn him with a great 
 versatility of feeling, in which the passions re- 
 peatedly sufiTer sudden transition from joy to anger, 
 with all thatvarietyof manner and expression peculiar 
 to an odd tempered old man. In displaying the pus- 
 
( 137) 
 
 hig^ t)f*the Character, Dowton exceeds all possitle 
 description, there is a natural ricliness of humour 
 preserved by him, that never borders on improba- 
 ble buffoonery ; indeed, it is so perfect a piece of act-, 
 ing that while it is remembered it must continue to 
 be admired. 
 
 Mr. DwYER has great advantages of person and 
 features, for a professor of the Histrionic Art. We 
 have seen him personify Cassio in the Tragedy of 
 " Othello," with a pleasing deportment, and give 
 the text every possible effect; in the drunken Scene 
 he was particularly happy in giving all the whim 
 and spirit of the Author, without losing sight of 
 the Gentleman. His action, features, and manner 
 of playing, have «i»<f- a distant resemblance of the 
 late John Palmer; and when the politics of the 
 Theatre, shall give him a more ample opportunity 
 to display his talents, he will we doubt not, become 
 a favourite of the Public. 
 
 The Lady who made her first appearance this 
 season, by the name of Cresszi)tU in the character of 
 Ophtlia, possesses a pleasing and cultivated voice, 
 her person though not ill formed, yet is not strikingly 
 attractive, and her features are far from being ex- 
 pressive; as a performer she is not above mediocrity, 
 and was very deficient in giving either spirit or 
 beauty to the language of Shakespeare. This lady 
 has since personated the young prince in *^ King 
 John," but gave the part with no effect. It is a 
 pity that many of our singers do not consider that the 
 audience pay for speaking as well as singing, and 
 make the dialogue of their parts a subject of con- 
 templatipn. 
 
 T 
 
( 168 ) 
 
 We regret much that Mrs. H. Johnston has not 
 had the arivantage of hcing seen at Diiiry Lane, so 
 often as she enjoyed it with dehght to the Puhlic at 
 the other Tlieatre. The person of this Lady h 
 elegantly formed, accompanied with features hean- 
 tifully expressive ; and when employed as the repre- 
 sentative of L«r/y i^«;/<:/o//j//« Liimln'r Court in ^* The 
 Man of the World;" hadij Carolint Braymore in 
 "John Bull;" and several other characters, she 
 never failed to ditTiise a gratification which tlie au- 
 dience rewarded with the wannest enlo<2:inm. Since 
 Mrs. H. Johnston joined the Drury Lane corps, 
 Ave do not think she has personated move than the 
 following characters, Amelia in " Lover's Vows;'* 
 Widow Bdmour in ''^The Way to Keep Him;" and 
 the Countess in the ^^ Caravan." There is an ease 
 and elegance in her style of playing, that must ever 
 command attention and insure her public favor, and 
 it is a pity the arrangements of the Theatre at pre- 
 sent prechide hertlie fair exhibition of those powers, 
 which drew on the Covent (iarden boards the au- 
 ditors admiration, and the resounding plaudit. 
 
 Hei* husband Mr. H. Johnston is favoured by na- 
 ture with a well-formed frame, and a handsome cast 
 of features, sufficiently flexible to express the pas- 
 sions of his character; few young Actors ever en- 
 joyed a greater share of public favor, which is 
 owing to the versatility of his talents, that may be 
 seen to advantage, either as the representative of 
 Doug/as, or in any of our Dramatic Pantomimes. 
 He delineates the part of Romahli, in the '^ Melo- 
 Rrama," with great ability, and would give all the 
 feeling and passons of the character, if he had not 
 
( 139 ) 
 
 a sentence to utter. The principal chara<:terbe has 
 assumed since his engagement at the Drury Lane 
 House, is Gt'orge Bar?nctil, and he was extremely 
 happy in p.)urtraying the follies and wickedness of 
 tlie iil-fortuned yoirth. jinhatt,m *^ Lovers Vows/* 
 Alonzo, in " Pizarro,'* — Mtrtotiy in " Marriage 
 Promise," and the Count, in " The Wife of Two 
 Husbands," are parts which he has figured in the 
 happiest colours, and which have obtained him great 
 popularit}^ Mr. Johnston- must he considered not 
 only an excellent, but an highly useful Actor. 
 
 From the reception Mr. Powell met with on the 
 Drury Lane hoards, and his being immediately under 
 the patronage of the celebrated Ml*. Smith, who was 
 some years ago so much admired in the character of 
 Oiiarles in the School for Scandal, we had every 
 reason to expect that Mr. P. w^ould have been em- 
 ployed in a better line of business than has since 
 fallen to him. Don Felix in the Comedy of " The 
 Wonder," and Young \\ ilding in the Farce of 
 *' The Liar," were the parts that ushered him into 
 public notice on the London Stage, and as the re- 
 presentative of each, he certainly acquitted himself 
 with the utmost satisfaction to the audience ; his per- 
 formaijce evinced a perfect knowledge of his au- 
 thors, and the ability to convey the spirit and energy 
 of their portraits; indeed his personification of these 
 contrasted characters far exceeded that mediocrity 
 of talent which may be seen in all the Theatres of 
 the united kingdom. His assumption of Captain 
 Absolute in the " Rivals;" is a performance which 
 shews the demeanor of a man of gentlemanly man- 
 ners, we also recollect him in Chuiles, in the 
 
( 140 ) 
 
 "School for Scandal/* and we do not think we 
 shall exceed the truth, in observing he stands at 
 present unrivalled in that character. The public 
 have seen him perform Stockwdl in the " West 
 Indian," and if their approbatfion is any proof of 
 merit he may be considered its happy representa-^ 
 tive. There are besides, Prospcro, in " The Tem- 
 pest," Thoroughgood in the Tragedy of ** George 
 Barnwell,'* and several other characters which live 
 on our memory as the efforts of an excellent and va^ 
 luable actor. The person and features of this gentle- 
 man have their due proportion of regularity and ex^ 
 pression, which are requisites of the utmost advantage 
 to the heroes of the Sock and Buskin. 
 
 In looking over the best Dramatic Biographers, 
 and Stage historians of this country, we cannot find 
 any actor that most distantly approaches Mr. J. 
 Johnstone. Moody enjoyed when in the zenith of 
 bis Theatrical glory, great eulogium for his delinea- 
 tion of Irish characters. We remember that veteraii 
 of the Sock about l6 years back, and we have 
 seen him repeatedly play that cast of character 
 which is supported by Mr. J.; but h?id the two Co- 
 medians been contemporary rivals in the opposite 
 Theatres and were paralleled, it would have been pi ac^ 
 ing aScotch pebble,beside a diamond, indeed Moody 
 would have been lost in the lustre of the other. 
 
 Johnstone may be considered one of the greatest 
 players that ever trod the Stage, his acting is nature 
 coloured in the richness of her own perfection. 
 
 Sir Callaghan O' Brallaghan and Major O'Fla- 
 harti/y are parts in which he is particularly happy 
 in supporting the gcnticmnn with the finest vein of 
 
( ni > 
 
 liiimour. Teague, in Knight's excellent Farce of 
 " Honest Thieves," is the portrait of a low Irishman, 
 and Johnstone gives if such exquisite colouring that 
 
 it provokes the audience to the most irresistihle 
 aughter ; his words drop like honey from his moutb, 
 there is no labour to be whimsical, but his humour 
 comes with so much ease that it instantly rivets pub^ 
 lie attention and keeps the risible faculties in a con- 
 tinued state of relaxation during his scene. 
 
 In O'Keefe's Comedy of the London Hermit, he 
 perfornis an Irish gardener, and there never was a 
 -character rendered so truly whimsical as Tully, par- 
 ticularly when he reads his ^^ describing Book," (as 
 it is called) to his master's visitors. We have ob- 
 served in our remarks on Mr. Colman's Dramatic 
 works, that the part of Dennis Bulgruddery in the 
 Comedy of ^^ John Bull," is in itself so pregnant 
 with humour, that an indifferent actor must receive 
 applause in playing it. Mr. Rock assumed the Irish 
 landlord this season and gave the part with much 
 iabihty, and Mr. Waddy vve think even exceeded 
 him in richness of delineation, but when we turn 
 our recollection to the original representative, com- 
 parison will not bear reflection. Johnstone stands 
 alone, his style of painting the passions and native 
 oddities of honest Dennis ^ exceeds description, his 
 beauties are to be seen and felt with delight, but 
 cannot be mjnutely illustrated, they are like the mas^ 
 terly touches of a fine picture, the more the specta- 
 
 ♦ Mr. Denman supported the above character at the Hay-market 
 Theatre, with considerable humour, and received the reiterated plau- 
 dits of the House. 
 
( 142 ) 
 
 tor points out its perfections, the more his eye will 
 discover for gratification and praise. 
 
 His performance of il/fl/'^oc/i Dc/auey in the " Irish- 
 man ill London/' and the part of Loonei/ Mactwoltcr 
 ill •' The Wags of Windsor," must be ever remem- 
 bered with dehglit, his merit is original and peculiar 
 to himself, and when imitated shews the imbecility 
 of the copyist. 
 
 Mr. Kelly has long and we think jnstly, enjoyed 
 public favour as a scientific singer, and a composer 
 of considerable ability. The music to Mr, Franklin's 
 whiinsical and entertaining After-piece, of " The 
 Counterfeit," is highly creditable to his genius. 
 
 Among the few acquisitions the Stage has of late 
 possessed, Mr. Blanchard deserves our notice as a 
 Comedian, whose talents will be estimated in a few 
 years of the highest value to the Theatre, his per- 
 son is well formed for the line of character gene- 
 rally supported by him. — His features are strongly 
 marked and of a flexible nature, and calculated to 
 bend into any passion the personage of the Drama 
 may require. 
 
 In calling to our recollection the great variety of 
 parts he has assumed on the boards of Covent Gar- 
 den Theatre, no one is more entitled to panegyric 
 than his Marquis dc grand Chateau, in '^ The Ca- 
 binet," which is a performance of the first descrip- 
 tion ; he enters with the utmost skill into every li- 
 neament of the old beau, and pourtrays his pecu- 
 liarities with the nicest discrimination ; indeed it is 
 nature concealing art. No parts try the strength of 
 an actor*s genius so much as those of Shakespeare, 
 
( 143 ) 
 
 and it is possible for a performer to get public cre- 
 dit in delineating a modern character, such as a 
 coxcomb, &c. without being able to dc common 
 justice to the labours of tlie immortal bard, but 
 Blanchard has the ability to decorate the beauties 
 of the poet in inestimable colours, of which we have 
 a proof in his personification of Fludlin in " Henry 
 the Fifth/' and if the reiterated plaudits of a Lon- 
 don audience, may be considered a sanction to our 
 opinion, we must be permitted to pronounce it an 
 excellent piece of playing. His Pistol in " the Se- 
 cond Part of Henry the Fourth," was given in warm 
 and animated tints, but free from unjust extravagance. 
 
 Mungo in the musical piece of '* The Padlock," 
 bad a good representative in this Comedian, who 
 gave the songs with a great humour. He has also as- 
 sumed the part of Snarl in " The Village Lawyer," 
 and rendered the old s^entleman a medium of much 
 mirth to the audience. 
 
 Blanchard succeeded Mr. Fawcett, in the part of 
 Proteus, in the Opera of '^ Family Quarrels," and 
 played it with so much propriety, that the public 
 did not feel the loss of the original; many other of 
 his efforts on that stage shew him to be not only a 
 "^m^y useful but an excellent Comedian. 
 
 Within these few years Mr. Farley has shewn 
 liimself an actor of no ordinary merit, he has sus- 
 tained several characters on the indisposition of the 
 principal performers with much original humour. 
 Fawcett's part of IViUiam, in " The Irishman in 
 London," did not lose the least importance in the 
 possession of Farley; he imparted to the character 
 all the spirit it required without imitating the ori- 
 
( 14-i ) 
 
 ginal representative, but there is a talent peculiar to 
 tills Comedian, and of* a nature highly valuable to 
 the Theatre, namely the art of getting up a Ballet. 
 No person connected with our English Theatres 
 was ever more successful in this particular, and few 
 happier in the support of the leading personage of 
 this description of entertainment. Irkid not Mr. 
 Harris exchanged the services of Farley for those of 
 Dibdin, in the manufacture of dumb shew, we 
 think lie would have had for these two last years 
 muchbetter Pantomimes than the trash that has been 
 offered to the Public. Mr. F. is very great in the 
 new and splendid Ballet of Valentine and Orson, 
 which is got up with much taste, and deserves Pub- 
 lie patronage. 
 
 Dubois is entitled to great eulogium for his mas- 
 terly acting ; it is a great pity that the energies of 
 this Performer's frame and mind, should have been 
 so long suffered to waste at Sadler's Wells — he cer- 
 tainly is the best buffoon on the Stage. 
 
 The mannerin which the audience receive Mrs. St. 
 Ledger, and the gratification they express at seeing 
 so fine a formed woman, accompanied with all the 
 graces of person which slie displays with great judg- 
 ment, prove the verity of our remarks on this 
 Lady's talents, in page 98, that it is the interest of 
 the Managers to bring Mrs. St. L. before the Pub- 
 lic as often as possible. Her fencing Scene, indeed 
 the whole of her performance, clearly shews that the 
 audience as well as herself, have been grossly in- 
 sulted, from her having been kept so long from 
 public notice. 
 
( 145 ) 
 
 It is not from Mr. Claremont's Theatrical conse- 
 t^uence we have given him a place in this Work, but 
 his having been so often the subject of critical se- 
 verity, which appears to us to have been founded in 
 unjust prejudice, we shall therefore say a few words 
 with respect to him. It would certainly be ridicu- 
 lous to apply the terra great to his professional ef- 
 forts, and equally wrong to call them contemptible. 
 But as an attentive and useful actor in minor parts 
 of the Drama, Mr, C. claims praise, as he appears 
 always acquainted with the nature of his character, 
 and never in want of the Prompter ; added to which 
 he strongly adheres to the text of his author, which 
 is not constantly observed on the Stage. The voice 
 and features of this Thespian hero are by no means 
 unfavourable to the duties of his public situation, 
 what bis gallantry and good opinion of himself may 
 have done to lessen his admirers, we cannot pre- 
 tend to determine, but either on or off the Stage he 
 appears a genteel man. 
 
 As the characters Mr. Munden sustains, are so 
 extensive in number and so contrasted in their na- 
 ture, it would be an act of injustice to his talents to 
 make him the subject of brief consideration, we shall 
 therefore leave this shining ph(X3nomenon for ample 
 comment in the second part of this Publication. 
 
 The want of room precludes us at present from 
 giving a supposed dialogue between a Margate 
 Manager and a brother Performer, on the art and 
 mystery of acting, — the powers and beaiitj/ of the 
 human voice — the nicety of auricular senfie, and 
 the kind of physiognomy necessary for tlie profes- 
 
 U 
 
( 146 ) 
 
 «ion of a Player ; we shall however publish it in our 
 next. 
 
 The Ladies and Gentlemen, we have been under 
 the necessity of leaving out, as not having ample 
 rooni for remark on their respective merits will, 
 with the principal Performers at the Hayraarket 
 1'hcatre, come under our notice in a succeeding 
 M'ork. 
 
 It has been reported that the Managers of 
 CovENT Garden intend to increase the num- 
 ber of private Boxes next season; should that be 
 the <?asie, the subject will meet with free discus- 
 sion. jNTcssrs. Harris and Kemble will grossly 
 deceive themselves, if they think the Public will 
 suffer the national Theatre to be wholly occupied 
 by a few families, and the promiscuous auditors 
 d liven into all the corners of the Theatre. We 
 however reserve our arguments for a future period ; 
 indeed we^.should not have made it the subject of 
 comment, but some alterations of an oppressive na- 
 ture me ttoa* taking place to the great injury of the 
 Per formers^, whose labours constitute the sup}>ort of 
 the Theatre. I'he Managers may have a right to 
 raise the Benefit Charges of the House, at the same 
 time the number of private Boxes considerably re- 
 duce the Actors profits, but the future increase 
 of the evil shall meet with a most determined op- 
 position. 
 
 riNis. 
 
 ERUATA. 
 
 Prjf." 2ti, Wne ao. Omit the Goddesses of, and in the following /?;ie, 
 iiftei' tlic wyrds *' nii^ht be," tcaU Personified and. 
 
 [Nich o\6on, Printer, Warner Street. 
 
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