Current:

Leader (1850-1860), 18th December 1852, Edition Country of 2, Page 19, THE MISERIES OF A DRAMATIC CRITIC. Tirmi...

Page 19
Page 19
19 of 24

On this page

  • Departments (1)
    • €fo Mit.
  • Text (4)
  • Transcript

    • Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.

      Additionally, when viewing full transcripts, extracted text may not be in the same order as the original document.

      Passages From A Boy's Epic. Olyml'lis. ,...

      " While mixt with flutes and clarions shouts arise , Of Io Bacchus , and before the breeze , The frequent utterance of sonorous brass Tinkles and chimes upon the throbbing air . Now smiles the sea , and all the island smiles Delighted , and sends forth the lovely life Of her maternal heart in sudden growth Of rose and lily , while setherial trees , That light their emerald leaves with scarlet fruits , Hang over dimpling streams , or lean athwart

      Romantic gorges crammed with purple gloom . Nor this alone , but Life took higher forms : Shapes ruby-eyed , with blue and emerald wings , Glittered and fluttered round , and gentle beasts , Black-mottled , silver-striped , or crimson-barred , Race sportive , or in waves of shadowy grass Luxurious dive , and one lone nightingale , Far inland , like some fairy woman sings . Soon as with clamorous pomp the Bacchic train Had plunged beneath the hill , a virgin band ,

      In white apparelled , like a snowy cloud , That journeys all the day through marble skies , Approacht the Princess , and in murmured songs , Mingled one name she knew , and so retired . But Ariadne knelt , where amorous earth Breathed from her beating heart the warm delight , And , kindled with a silver-sobbing rain , That fell invisible , the life of flowers , Lulling her child ; until , through open heavens , She saw the Gods whom fadeless wreaths adorn .

      Charmed by the Muses' song , while mid the sound And splendour , one most ^ like the Firmament ' Stood near her , crbwned with a great night 6 f stars . And robed in shadows that with wavering lights Still mixt and intermixt j and thus he cried : " O favoured of the Gods ! thy sceptre claim ¦ , And over mortals and immortals rule , By love and beauty ; for all gentle things Are strongest , and all work in beatify ends , All life in love . " , M -

      Pecembeb 18, 1852.] The Leader. I21 J_

      Pecembeb 18 , 1852 . ] THE LEADER . I 21 j _

      Joy And Despondency. In Youth's Glad Hou...

      JOY AND DESPONDENCY . In youth ' s glad hour I left the gliding dance , When the large shadows hovered on the wall , And where proud rocks athwart the ocean glance , I trod the shore alone , the king of all . And as the yellow evening faded fast , I paced with measured step the wrinkled sand , Or watcht the dwarfing sail and dwindling mnst Fly down the sunset to the morning land . Or when the sky was crost with cloudy bars . Silent I stood on lone and lovely lens , Or climbed some hill-top overlookt by stars , "When God was passing in the conscious breeze . Then strength and gladness to my heart were given , Then soul grew sense ; and sense refined to soul f "I am a king , I cried , elect of Heaven ' , I am a part of one ' majestic whole . . ! . i i ¦ - ¦ ' ¦ !¦ .. ¦¦¦ " With thp great tide of thiugs I ebb and ( low , I help to r / ng the world ' s melodious chimo ; I know life ' s fnircs . t mysteries , and I know Her mime and , her universal rhyme . " Lulled in ambrosial dreams all night'I ' lay ;' ¦ Through lucid siir , God ' s darling , I was bornv . : ' But , ah II said , these dreams may pass away , — I with blank eyes may wake and sec the morn . M

      €Fo Mit.

      € fo Mit .

      The Miseries Of A Dramatic Critic. Tirmi...

      THE MISERIES OF A DRAMATIC CRITIC . TirmiR are persona who in tho naiveU of their hearts onvy us drama !•!« « riticH the delight of conntant attendance at tho tlicui . ro ; whatever that flight nmy be , 1 asHure them M . Azais , who wrote u philosophic work on compensation * , might- have mldod a chapter setting Jorth tUo unseneH * hieh accompany that delight . hnvo touched on tins before ; but you Bliall fmW yourself , from tho Hpecirnen now to bo laid hnloro you . You , beloved reader , know very well what my in ^ ntioiiH w « r«—wlint my arraiiffcmtintH with certain vellum folios we ™ . Tho ortmght before CliriBtmaf I had a right to reckon on ; had I not ? U wnn 11 period wherein I might calculate on laying " > hHtoro of lead for Juturo , lucubrations— enougPi to roof a house with ! Woll ! Tho Iirst tiling 1 h « o in Monday nu > rning > Times ia tliutCkurlcH Mathowy , ( may tho gods—applaud

      him !) with his usual restlessness , brings out a new * piece . Because he can ' t keep quiet on the stage , he insists we shall not be quiet in our study . I resolve not to go . After all , a farce wont occupy much time , and the title ,

      A PHENOMENON IN A SMOCK-FROCK . rather piques my coyness . So I go . Being a philosopher , I am hugely tickled with the subject of this piece , which is new on the stage . Poor Sowerherry has a bad time of it in this lying , cheating age © 1 veneer . " No one tells the truth , no , one acts the truth , no one cares tor the truth . '' He is made miserable by lies , misanthropic by imposition . Truth , the great ^ oumenon , remains , like all Nouraeaa , hidden , unper-_ I _ X U . VX-I J 4 XIV £ 1 X \ sCVV -J- * V UUi . VJWv ' . M . J . » . >*"_»¦**¦¦ " ¦¦ — 7 — ' _ . /» realizes itself in the guise ot

      ceived—guessed at , but unknown . It never a Phenomenon . " What is truth ? " asked the unhappy Pilate ; and would not wait for an answer . Why should he P Who likes to hear the truth ? Do you , dear madam ?—do you , eminent sir ? ^ JNo one does . " Nousjriaimons pas Us choses jparcequ elles sont vraies , " said JNicole , — - " mais nous les croyons vraies parceque nous les aimons , ' —it is not because we love truth that we like to hear certain things said , but we call them true because we like them . And Plato says , -out no t tnesis

      I'll not venture upon lead just now . It is enough ior my presen that Truth is a Noumenon rarely phenomenized to the cognition ol tne senses ( if you know what that means ) , and that when Sowerberry does eognise in his milkman the Somersetshire Phenomenon alluded to , he may be pardoned the extravagance of his joy . He meets with a man who speaks the truth—the harsh , blunt , unequivocal truth , unsoftened by any " consideration for the feelings" of those who hear it . He raises tne Milkman into a Mentor . He pays him three pounds a week for seven years , in order to-hear the sweet accents of truth , and no sooner does he Jjear , those sweet accents , than he comforts himself much in the way aut ^ p ^ s ; and actors do when they hear the truth from us critics . I , wont spoil sport by hinting all the troubles and perils into which , the Truth leads poor Sowerberry . You know the fable of Jupiter and

      Semele , ( by the way , an intelligent printer once sent that forth as Jupiter and Simile !) and have admired the moral . The " party" who desired the presence of a god became a burnt party for her pains ! Charles Mathews ( s the Somersetshire Semele to Jupiter Prank Matthews , m this PJienomenon in . a Smoclc-frock , a very amusing farce , very weJl adapted by Wijlian > Brough from Le MisantJirope et V'Auvergnat , and amusingly played by Charles Mathews , whose dialect is perfect . If a fault is to be found with hia performance , it is that he does not make Jus JYliJkman stolid enough ; he seems to tell the truth more out of love oi fun than simplicity . Frank Matthews entirely misses the character of Sowerberty ; he makes it not misanthropical enough—on the contrary , he js rather iovial . But his terror was comical . There : that's the Truth . Is it

      pleasant ? , . Leaving the Ltcettm , I was free to go home to my folios , had it not been for /

      JULLIE 1 TS BAL MASQUE , where I was expected to be , of course . I sighed , and submitted . It was not much to bear ; and as I moved through the motley groups and moralized upon the scene , I am not sure that I thought my evening wasted . Very tasteful were the decorations , animated was the scene ; and it tho Ball was not a bal de Vopera , it was a vast improvement upon the dreary masquerades which a fevr years ago were held out as an attraction to tho British public . There were a few good costumes ; and a few characters supported with spirit . For tho most part , the costume-people looked like actors in a barn , personating Kymints and Villiuns—dreary , discrepant objects ! Clouds of sadness waited across my mind from tune to time , as I looked on at the hollow gaiety , and thought of the homes of those so

      loud ; and besides the silent tragedy which the scene contained , there was one incident which , struck me very forcibly . Although only a few yards from the spot , and although I saw a man on tho ground , 1 canntt tell what the accident was , because I heard so many various accounts in thtf-room ; but enough for my present purpose that a man was lying dead or HMiselefiS a few yards . from inn , and was borne out of the house , all tho while tho dancing was at its height of animation in the other parts of the room ; as I looked towards the man being carried out nnd towards , i ulhen directing the harmonious storm of bis orchestra , while tho unconscious revelry ' was going on within a fe \ r yards of death , the contrast recalled to 7 * ie that splendid tragic scene in Ford ' s Jirokcu . Jfcarf , where the daneo is thrice interrupted by the news of death , but Calantha , repressing all signs of emotion , bidd the dance continue : —

      " CATiANTHA , I ' UOI'JUIiVS , ElIVlIltA > RA , N KAUOll I'd , CitOTOI-ON , ClUUSTAT / LA , Pin l . KMA , and others . ( ltd . Wt » hums our Hwvant Jthodes , and Or ^ ihis ; On whom attend they ? Orot . My son , gruoioiiH |> imhv . sh , Whinpi'i- 'd Homo new < l (! vic <> , to wiiich these rovc . ls Should 1 ) 0 but usher : wherein , 1 concoivi , Jjard ItluM ^ lcs and hi- liinisclf arc t \ ctovn . Cat . A lair <» x «! usi » ior absence : iih ior Haswum ^ , * l ) eli ( j ; bt » to li ' nn aro troublisonu !; Ani'iostes Is with thn Kin ^ . Orot . Ho . is . Ccd . <) u to t ) u « < lntuvi :

      ( 7 ' o Nl ! AIMM 1 I 7 S . ) Donr cousin , hand you ( lie hride ; Mie !) riclcjjrooni must lie Intrusted'to my rourt , shi |> : ho notjtsi'loMM , lluplii-iinert ; I' shall scarcely prove u ( empires . ' l (> all to our ( laiictt . They Dance the first dhmu / e , duriiu / which Aluio . STiiH enters Arm . Tim Kinjr your Father ' s diwl . Cat . To ( Jio otlior eliiing * :. Arm , I « it posaiblo ?

  • Citation
    • Leader (1850-1860), Dec. 18, 1852, page 19, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse-os.kdl.kcl.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/cld_18121852/page/19/