Familiar Epistles To Frederick J---s, Esq On the Present State of the Irish Stage. Second Edition with Considerable Additions [by J. W. Croker] |
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| 3. | THIRD EPISTLE. |
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 | Familiar Epistles To Frederick J---s, Esq |  |
THIRD EPISTLE.
laudis fuistis, delenda vobis est illa macula.
Cic. pro. L. M.
Or shape the critic coldness warm,
Could gay variety dispense
On every essay, excellenee;
And were we only bound to tell
How much one plays, and not how well;—
A galaxy of praise should shine,
And every word I write upon her,
Should offer eulogy and honour;—
But she whom all pursuits engage,
This female Proteus of the stage,
Who thro' all nature boldly flies,
And in one little fortnight tries
Calista, Yarico, and Nell,
And poor Sir Peter's rural belle,
Cannot, in reason, hope to claim
In all her parts, an equal fame.
I own her feeling, taste and spirit,
Her versatility of merit,
I own that it were hard to find
In one, more excellence combin'd;
The gay, the grave, the great, the small;
And, vainly, prove herself at heart
A kind of Crow-street Bonaparte?
Will no one whisper, that she plays ill
The froward mirth of Lady Teazle;
Or hint that nothing can beguile,
To humour, her sepulchral smile.
Her eye in tragic glances roll'd,
The length'ning nose of Kemble mould,
And chin eternal, must prevent
Her looking archly innocent,
Look'd like Macbeth in masquerade—
And Siddons in her mirth we find
Mixing up Shore with Rosalind;
To follow nature as your guide,
Or—but the candid muse will spare
Comparisons 't were hard to bear!—
Alas! how willingly I'd raise
The song of undiminish'd praise;
If, spite of beauty and of youth,
You were not still less fair than truth,
The spots of error on your fame,
Only in hopes to see it rise,
The unclouded radiance of our skies.
Cravat and cape, and spurs and switches,
Grin and grimace and shrugs and capers,
And affectation, spleen, and vapours?
Prithee give o'er to mouth and mumble;
Stand still, speak plain, and let us hear
What was intended for the ear,
For faith without the timely aid,
Of bills, no parts you've ever played,
Sharper, Stroller, Lounger, Lover,
Could I amidst your mad-cap pother
Ever distinguish from each other.
Lewis 'tis true that jumps and prates,
And mutters and extravagates;
But then it equally as true is
That Mr. J---s! you are not Lewis.
Victorious o'er the frost of years;
Fresh flowers adorn her latest days,
A kind of thespian aloes.—
Blest in each walk of social life,
Unwrung by care, unvexed by strife;
With placid mind and temperate soul
She sees old Time innoxions roll,
And from his favouring pinions shed
Age unoppressive o'er her head.
Nor meanly low, nor brightly great,
She walks the stage's middle course
Without or feebleness or force;
And whatsoe'er she act, our eyes
No faults offend, or powers surprize.
With talents, such as Pope possessed,
They should not take a greater scope,
Or strive to figure more than Pope.
Every part and every day,
The young, the old, coquette, or prude,
Polished dame, or housewife rude—
Till surfeited at last, we feel
The truth of “la pâté d'anguille.”
With face most whimsically gruff,
Aping the careless sons of ocean,
He scorns each fine and easy motion;
Tight to his sides his elbow pins,
And dabbles with his hands like fins;
He slaps his breast, and points his toe;
Is merriment to be expressed,
He points his toe and slaps his breast.
His turns are swings,—his step a jump,
His feelings fits,—his touch a thump;
And violent in all his parts,
He speaks by gusts, and moves by starts.
Foretells the talent of the creature;
Lively and vulgar, low and pert
She plays, au vif, the peasant flirt,
And hits, without the slightest aid
From Art, the saucy chamber-maid.
The flights of her aspiring soul;—
Could she be satisfied with all
The glories of the servants'-hall,
Nor e'er with daring steps presume
To figure in the drawing room;—
With Mincing and not Millamant,
And following nature's humble course,
Decline Bisarre and play Lamorce,
None would have guessed that she had ne'er
Observed what life and manners were,
Nor ever known a circle higher
Than that around the green-room fire.
This kind of “paysanne parvenue”
This Nell in lady's robes arrayed,
This hash of mistress and of maid.
And yet not all the blame attaches
To her,—she naturally snatches,
At spangled gowns, and caps of lace,
To mend her figure and her face—
But why this travesty permitted?
Because we've no one better fitted;
Of right or wrong, our plays are marred;
An useful actress is disgraced,
And insult braves the public taste.
On revising my opinion of this young lady, I find that it is perhaps too favourable—but n'importe, the world always receives a man's commendations of a pretty woman, cum grano salis.
A legal wit said of a brother barrister, that a smile on his countenance was like plating on a coffin. Such is Miss W---lst---in's attempt to look sprightly: She plays the gay parts of Miss Hardy tolerably, because she plays them in a mask. To her success, however, in this character, we are to attribute a good deal of the vanity I complain of, I wish she could get some of her male acquaintance to translate for her use, this excellent precept of Horace:
Ab insolenti temperatam
Lætitiâ.
I have had the misfortune to see this exhibition, truly it was, as Shakespeare says, “most tragical mirth.”
Miss W---lst---in seems to have no more objection to appear in breeches before two or three hundred men, than Mrs. Siddons—tho' they are equal in modesty, they are very unlike in personal attractions, and poor Siddons did least mischief.
I have heard of a lady who wept plentifully throughout the whole of “As you like it,” from an unhappy opinion, that Rosalind was Jane Shore. I am glad to relate the anecdote that so much good tears should not go for nothing.
This youth has a kind of merit, which he greatly overates, but which a little study and some slight efforts at remedying the original defects of education and manners, may improve to perhaps more than respectability. He is almost always lively, never rational, sometimes amusing, seldom intelligible: on a stage nearly barren of merit, it is natural he should be “fêté” inoculus inter cæcos, is a very considerable person. He is almost the “acteur gáté” that Gil Blas describes, “a qui le parterre pardonne tout; on lui marquoit trop le plaisir que l'on prenoit a le voir, aussi en abusait-il; si l'on eût fifflé; au lieu de crier miracle, on lui auroit souvent rendu justice.”—Let me however do justice to his Diddler; the character is luckily as extravagant (I mean metaphorically) as the actor; and both are wonderfully outres and entertaining.
Lewis, has great faults and great beauties; why should not R. J---s be as capable of imitating the latter as the former?—He has undoubtedly no inconsiderable disposition towards making a good actor, and I own I should not have treated him so cavalierly, but that I perceive him to be nearly spoiled by over-praise; my over fastidiousness I am not inclined to deny, and so I should hope a fair estimate may be made of his merit. It is just to add, that he is very correct and very assiduous in his new parts. “Juvat me hoc tribuisse.”
Lewis, Pope, and some others, feeling the absolute necessity of some portion of literature in the composition of a good player, took very considerable trouble in this regard, even after they had been some time on the stage; yet neither of them had been a mere mechanic.—Whilst Mr. J---s should be studying his profession, he is seen walking up and down Damestreet, canvassing salutes from every well dressed man, who will condescend to nod to him: “Good den, Sir Richard,—Gad a mercy, fellow.”
Miss Pope. Le dernier rejetton of the old school, the pupil of the Garricks, the imitator of the Clives, and the best actress that the men of our day ever have seen, or perhaps ever will see. Those who have had the happiness to see her Mrs. Heidleberg with King's Lord Ogleby, and Wewitzers Canton, in the Clandestine Marriage, may form an opinion of “how plays should be acted.”
This is by no means the result of a mis-timed vanity in Mrs. H---ch---ck; it is the necessary consequence of the miserable deficiency of good actresses, with which our drama is afflicted.—The public is rather under obligations to Mrs. H---ch---ck, for the readiness with which she undertakes every thing that she thinks can conduce to their entertainment.
The variety of parts she is obliged by the poverty of the company to study and play, must be very distressing to a person of her age and situation—
Si quæ laborissa est, ad cam curritur
Sin lenis est, ad aliam defertur.
Ter. prol. in Heautontim.
Setting out of the question the absurdity of seeing an old woman (whatever be her vigor and talents) playing girlish parts, I must confess that in theatrical matters “diversité (not novelty, take notice) est ma devise.” La Fontaine, La Pâté d'anguille.
This man plays seconderate characters, with fourth rate abilities—Some of his sailors are very well; and of this he is so satisfied, that knowing where his talent lies, he turns all his parts into sailors. His Crabtree, his Job Thornberry, his Ibrahim, are dismal instances of this amphibious merit.
Retorta tergo brachia.
Format enim natura prius nos intus ad omnem Fortunarum habitum— I am sure nature never intended Mrs. W---ll---ms for a fine lady, or even for a fine gentleman, a character she sometimes attempts. It is really disgraceful, that there should be no actress on the Dublin stage, capable of playing the well bred female characters of our best plays; poor Mrs. W---ll---ms is obliged to give up a line of acting in which she is very respectable, to stop by the most ridiculous efforts, the gaps of the company—this is a heavy misfortune to the audience, but, “en revanche,” 'tis a great saving to the managers—good actresses demand good salaries, and Mrs. W*ll*ms is so much clear gain—
“Nunquam animo pretiis obstantibus.”
| Familiar Epistles To Frederick J---s, Esq | |