The Knickerbocker/Volume 13/Number 5/The Drama
THE DRAMA.
Franklin Theatre.—Shales!—We question whether, since Æschuylus first raised poor bare-foot Tragedy on buskins, and gave her a comfortable cloak to her back, there has been seen in christendom a more original performance, than the personation, by Shales, at the Franklin Theatre, of Shakspeare's King Richard the Third. The fame of this eminent histrion had reached the metropolis long before himself arrived. The 'Literary Emporium,' that nourished and brought him up, saw his genius, and cultivated it; and when the fullness of time had arrived, wherein it should be given vent, the citizens repaired en masse to the public play-house, to see it spout, and to do honor to intellect. Their meed was won—'tremendous applause.' A service of polished tin plate was presented to the actor; and wreaths, the weight of which would gall the brow, were showered upon his head. In one of these tributes, which we have been favored to behold, the useful was pleasantly mingled with the sweet. Along a circular hay-band, were intertwined corpulent cabbages, white and red; while long yellow parsnips, and horizontal, rotary turnips, pranked with short festoons of dried apples, and set off by fresh green pickles, served to relieve the otherwise somewhat cumbrous character of a visible and most tangible emblem of dramatic renown. The first appearance of Shales in New-York will be long remembered. The wind was high, the night was dark; and never did we
that rushed along the gutters, and roared and rumbled in subterranean passages. Yet was the theatre full, notwithstauding certain vague rumors which had obtained, that our Roscius had cancelled his engagement. This, as it subsequently appeared, was indeed his purpose; but the manager threatened not to survive, if he persisted in carrying his resolution into effect, and he relented The curtain rose before an impatient and highly excited audience.
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We have seen Kean, Kemble, Macready, Booth; but we owe it to Shales to say, that neither of these, eminent as they were and are, ever played Richard the Third like him. There was 'a oneness, a depth, a breadth, a universal dove-tailedness, a light and a shade,' which completed our conception of what should constitute the tragic 'unities.' He had not reached the end of the first act, before those who came to scoff, remained to perform a very different service. The presiding genius of one of our largest and most popular daily journals sat near us, with fierceness in 's aspect. He had evidently come prepared to break a small fly on a large wheel, in his next day's sheet. But he was soon cowed into admiration. Let it suffice to say, that not a word of censure marred his gazette on the following morning. We have said there was 'a oneness' in the personation of Shales; and it is for this reason, that we despair of presenting a notice in detail, that shall do justice to his merits, which it is not too much to say, are of a peculiar kind. We shall therefore advert to only one or two characteristic points. The flexibility of his legs, and the lithe pliancy of his hands, are prominent features in his physique. The irregular action of these members is wholly spontaneous. A galvanized baboon could not better have displayed that emphatic inanity, which, in the strikingly original conception of Shales, distinguished Richard's physical action, while half crazy with doubt and vexation. Of both our actor's gesture and accent, we may say, that if they were not wholly independent of the will, but were suggested by mental impulse, then are there minds, and they are of no common class, which are subject, like the body, to a species of Saint Vitus' Dance. The meanings which, in the language of Shakspeare, are hid in articles, definite and indefinite, as well as in conjunctions and prepositions, it has not heretofore been the wont of tragedians to portray. Negligence like this cannot be laid to the charge of Shales. He has profited by the fine lessons upon accent given by popular showmen at the London fairs: 'Walk up, ladies and gen'lemen! Look through this 'ole into the box, and you vill perceive a animal, in the agonies of death, a lashin' the flies vith his tail!' It was with similar emphasis and force, that Shales exclaimed:
Malvolio himself was not more enamored of his own parts, than are the great mass of successful actors on the stage. Not so Shales. Whether improvising amendments to an attitude, which has been encored, or submitting to be twice killed, to oblige the sansculottists in the pit, or the gods of Olympus, his countenance is never disfigured by any of those 'lines which are termed expression." No self-complacent smirk, therefore, mars the vraisemblance of his personations. We regret that we are compelled to dash these deserved encomiums with a little animadversion. Depending upon his intellectual exertions for success, Shales did not sufficiently regard his outward seeming. His sword was a sad blade; his cloak might apparently have answered to the literal description of the ermined mantle, with its national emblem, which Mrs. Dorothea Ramsbotham saw in the 'Shampdemars' at Paris; since it was quite dingy enough to have been 'lined with vermin, and covered with fleur-de-lice.' The discolored knees of his knitted unmentionables, also, like collapsed India-rubber, had an ungraceful, bulgy aspect, which was heightened by the effect of a doubtless well-intended but injudicious emendation of a rupture, or an abrasion, in another and near quarter. The original Richard would have preferred the rent; for he had good sense enough to know, that a hole is an accident of the day, but that a patch or a darn is premeditated poverty; and this latter, if history may be believed, was not his condition. But fruitful as is our theme, we must pause; and with a word of parting counsel, close our remarks. 'The steadiness with which Shales advances, 'nulla retrosum,' to distinguished eminence, has roused the envy of sundry aspiring Roscii in the eastern cities. Let him but devote himself to study, and shun the dissipated courses of the warts and boils of the profession which he adorns, and he has nothing to fear from envy and detraction, let them dog his footsteps never so much. Distinguished merit will ever rise superior to malice, and draw new lustre from reproach. 'The vapors which gather round the rising sun, and follow in its course, seldom fail, at its close, to form a magnificent theatre for its reception, and to invest with variegated tiuts, and with a soft effulgence, the luminary which they cannot hide.' Shales—vale!
Park Theatre.—We make no apology for assigning a subordinate position to the favor of our theatrical correspondent, who treats monthly of the dramatic doings at Old Drury. 'Where two men ride a horse,' saith the erudite Dogberry, 'one must go before;' but who shall have precedence of Shales? And with this explanation, ensues our friend's critique. 'Daub yourself with honey, and you will never want flies.' So says the proverb; and whether applied in its literal sense, or to theatrical 'novelties'’ which are no longer novelties, but nuisances, it is equally forcible. Horses, elephants, monkeys, giraffes, and dancing dogs, form the principal corps dramatique of one of the London theatres, as announced in a late play-bill. Drury Lane and Covent Garden have had their 'lions,' in the shape of elephants and other monstrosities; and our own and dearly-beloved Park has done a considerable business lately in the equestrian line. It is notorious, that these exhibitions 'pay;' but for the sake of common sense, to say nothing about taste, (which being a word without any definite meaning, has no right in our vocabulary,) for the dignity of the stage, for the end and aim of playing, we could wish that it were otherwise. We are promised better things than horses and gilt-gingerbread imitations of melo-drama, at the Park; and the public may rest assured that the promise will be kept. Mrs. Shaw has given relief, by her chaste and effective playing, to the beastly monotony of our month of monsters. We believe in Mrs. Shaw’s personations of character most devoutly. They are true to the author. His meaning is expressed as clearly as intelligent action can portray it. This lady has the good taste to avoid all the rant and fustian which is so often resorted to by ambitious aspirants, to cover with their sound and fury the lack of the quiet essentials of the player. Even in 'Alice Darvil,' melo-dramatic as the character is made, she was content to give utterance to the passion of the scene, without tearing it to tatters. Of one thing we have become convinced, both on and off the stage, which is, that where real talent exists, ranting does not. We never met an actor or an orator yet, who was famous for splitting the long ears of his admirers by loud words and furious vehemence, who, upon a close acquaintance, did not turn out to be rather shallow in his intellects. True talent is conscious of its power, and relies only upon its legitimate influence.
Mrs. and Mr. Sloman, old friends, but not yet with old faces, have come back to us, and received a right hearty welcome at this house. The lady made her courtesy as 'Pauline,' and excepting a little unnecessary vehemence, occasionally displayed, carried out the character with success. She has since appeared in personations of similar capacity, and with merited applause. 'Isabella,' in the 'Fatal Marriage,' is a character almost forgotten on our stage; but those who saw its representation by the almost immortal Siddons, affirm, that from them it can never fade. Mrs. Sloman has hardly sufficient power for the part, but her readings evinced judgment and good taste. Mr. Sloman, of 'Betsey Baker' memory, who can have forgotten him? What mighty guffaws and cacchinations did that song produce! The very walls trembled, and the scenery shook its wings. If it should be repeated during this engagement, we will not answer for the continued solemnity of the visage of Mrs. Siddons on the drop curtain. Nobody sings comic songs exactly like Sloman. His manner is always peculiarly quiet, and particularly insinuating. He creeps along as gently as a mouse to his bit of cheese, stealing his way into the very sanctum of Momus, until he tickles the quiescent god into a broad grin, before he knows it. Certainly, nobody sings a medley like him. We have heard these eccentric musical, nonsensical, poetical mad minglings, many's the time before; but they were a discordant, unintelligible jargon of sounds; abrupt, and uncomfortable to our auriculars. Not so with the amalgamating harmonies of Sloman's medley, which interlace, like a wreath of many-tinted flowers, in eccentric and gay varieties, tastefully woven and contrasted, from grave to gay, and flung off with the grace of Apollo. Singers are generally supposed to follow the orchestra; but there is such a gallopping variety of airs and graces hurried one after another in these minglings, that the tables are turned, and the orchestra follow the singer; and hard work they seem to have of it. We welcome the Slomans.
The National.—The main attraction at this establishment, has been the production of a new play by N. P. Willis, Esq., entitled 'Tortesa, the Usurer.' We made leisure to attend its first representation, which was enjoyed by a fashionable audience, so dense as to crowd the theatre from pit to dome. In its dramatic execution, 'Tortesa' is a manifest improvement upon previous similar efforts of the author. He has studied stage effect, with the eye and spirit of an actor; and although some of his 'situations' are rather melo-dramatic, yet all are striking, and all were successful. As nearly every city journal we open contains a sketch of the plot of 'Tortesa,' and as these will have radiated widely on every hand, before these pages are given to the public, we shall deem the reader amply informed upon this point, and proceed to offer a few desultory remarks upon the play and its representation. As a literary performance, it is of a high order of merit. Its language is rich and flowing, its figures forcible and graceful, and its passion deep, yet subdued. The tender seemed to us a little overdone, in some instances, especially in a somewhat protracted téte-a-téte between Isabella and her father; and we did not affect the divided points of interest, created by slight episodical dialogues between subordinates, which seemed, as we thought, to answer no specific purpose in the progress of the drama. Sir Walter Scott somewhere remarks, in substance, that the plot or business of a play should advance with every line that is spoken; one single interest, to which every other is subordinate, should occupy the entire piece; each separate object, in an interpolated under-plot, having just the effect of a mill-dam, sluicing off a portion of the interest or sympathy, which should move on, with increasing rapidity and force, to the catastrophe. The scene of the picture-frame, and the death-test over the apparently lifeless body of Isabella, are admirable conceptions, and they were well portrayed. Tortesa is a fine creation, and the character was embodied by Mr. Wallack with eminent faithfulness and power. We can say little for the performance of the heroine, Miss Monier. This young lady is wholly unequal to the leading parts which she assumes at the National. Art, ill-disguised stage art, and 'French grace,' are the prominent characteristics of all we have ever seen her attempt. There is not a touch of nature in any thing which she performs. The walk, the gesture, the voice, the glance of the eye, all are assumed, and so palpably assumed, as utterly to destroy all illusion. As 'Isabella,' it cannot be denied, that her inaudible voice, with other less excusable defects, detracted in no slight degree from the interest of the play. Conner sustained the part of the enthusiastic artist and lover with much credit. More variety of tone, and less uniform modulation of voice, would leave little to be desired in the personations of this promising young actor. The character of 'Zippa'—we understood Miss Monier to pronounce it Dipper—was well sustained by Mrs. Sefton, who seldom plays indifferently; and the same remark will apply with equal if not greater force to Mr. Mathews, whose dignified manner, clear, distinct enunciation, and evident appreciation of the meaning of his author, have won for his performances deserved praise. Lambert made the most of his part, and that was but little. The play has been repeated several times, and may be said to have established a permanent popularity, to which very beautiful scenery, dresses, and decorations, may have contributed something. We cordially congratulate the gifted author upon the complete success of this his third dramatic effort.