1818.] On Emigration, and its Effects. ners of a very large class of the French community, and couple it with that native politeness and fascination of address which has enabled them to disseminate not only their language, but customs, over a great part of Europe, those who imagine that so many thousands of our countrymen and women can reside in France without contracting French principles and manners, have neither studied the irresistible force of example, nor profited by experience. Were it requisite to draw a picture of English manners and principles, you will readily conceive that, with all our imperfections, and the lamentable foreign importations of late years, it would bear no comparison with that of our neighbours; but without wishing to be thought the fulsome panegyrist of my own country, I may be allowed to say, that I regard our happiness as a people, and power as a state, wholly to depend on the preservation of religious and moral principles amongst us. The contagion of foreign manners has ever been an object of just apprehension to the wisest legislators; and the regulations of Lycurgus on this important subject might be recurred to with advantage by the moderns-particularly those of our own country who have been persuaded to educate their children in France. The fear of their imbibing the habits of other countries, induced the above law-giver to check the disposition for travelling so generally manifested by the Spartans. His motives for not encouraging the temporary visits of strangers were equally remarkable, though not suited to the more liberal policy and civilized usages of the present day. Of this jealousy on the legislator's part, Plutarch observes, "It did not arise so much from the fear of their teaching his own people some evil, but that along with foreigners came new subjects of discourse; new discourse produces new opinions; and from those there necessarily spring new passions and desires, which, like discords in music, would disturb the established government. He therefore," continues the Grecian biographer, thought it more expedient for the city to keep out of it corrupt manners, THAN EVEN TO PRE 66 VENT THE INTRODUCTION OF A PESTI LENCE!" Such being the opinion of the wisest men of antiquity upon the danger of introducing foreign manners, let us now proceed to illustrate the subject with regard to our own country. From various statements which have was 397 been lately made public, it appears that 398 Observations on Kean's performance of Richard III. [Dec. 1, bears a much higher value in France than in this country, I am satisfied that the advantages an emigrant derives on the score of economy have been very much enhanced. This observation applies very particularly to the expenses attendant on French education. By calculating the various items of travelling, board, masters, doctors' bills, &c. &c. &c. which serve to swell up their quarterly accounts, those more immediately interested will find the whole to be not only much more than they were at first led to expect, but that it has gone on progressively increasing during the last three years. Many people are captivated by the flattering terms of French semina like those who are taken in by our lottery-office nostrums, they are wofully disappointed when the day of reckoning arrives. And when I state that the average yearly expense attending the maintenance and tuition of an English pupil under twelve in a French boardingschool at thirty-five pounds, I should imagine very few parents will be able to discover the great saving to be made by bringing up their children abroad, not to mention other inconveniences, to many of which I have not even alluded. of the country, all the rest being English; the teachers are French of course, in which language the whole of the girls are taught. Admitting that all goes on well, and they make a rapid progress during the three or four years they are destined to remain, is it not extremely probable that nine-tenths of the whole school on returning home will forget their knowledge of the French language, and with that all the rudiments of theoretical education which it had been the medium of teaching them? It will not be so, however, with the peculiar habits and manners they had imbibed: these become what we call second nature, and will never be removed, while it is more than probable that a new course of Eng-ries handed round on printed cards; but lish tuition is found to be more necessary than ever; but it is too late to begin again and the female designed for an English mother must be satisfied with the shattered remains of her French education! Without dwelling on the absurdity of placing children at the pianoforte before they can write their own names, I think it a matter of equal regret that dancing should occupy so large a share of attention, to the neglect and prejudice of those acquirements which are really useful in the formation of youthful minds. Although the character of the lady to whom I have alluded is both amiable and unexceptionable, she cannot change the nature of things; and however successful, as she has certainly been with some of her pupils, there are many difficulties to be surmounted in teaching children through a foreign language, while the chances of their forgetting whatever has been thus inculcated, are a thousand to one in its favour. In England we are accustomed to regard dancing as a secondary consideration-I may truly say it is a primary one with our Gallic neighbours; and to be candid, I don't think we shall ever be able to come near them in that fascinating accomplishment, which seems to form a most important part in the business of a Frenchman's life. It is therefore left for English mothers to choose between the imperishable qualities of the mindsuch as unshaken principles of religion, purity of morals, and refined delicacy of manners, which can be taught in their own country without foregoing the minor attributes of the female nind; and that almost total indifference with regard to every thing not relating to a brilliant exterior and superficial refinement, so conspicuous in other countries. Without meaning to deny that money If I have trespassed somewhat longer on your time than I at first intended, I trust the importance of the subject will be my best excuse and as several very material points connected with it remain to be noticed before my pledge is redeemed, their examination will more properly form the object of another communication. I am, &c. VIATOR. OBSERVATIONS ON KEAN'S PERFORM- THERE never was a king who had been driven by the lust of power to commit such unnatural excesses as Richard the Third. In point of barbarity he holds, till this day, an awful and terrific pre-eminence over every ruler who has swayed the sceptre of this country. He was the only one, of all our sovereigns, who could, without fear or compunction, break every tie of affinity and kindred to place himself on a throne; who could force his way through the hearts of his connections to obtain that darling object of his soula diadem. Insidious, artful, intriguing, bold, blood-thirsty, and aspiring; as hideous in the composition of his mind as 1818.] Observations on Kean's Performance of Richard III. in his bodily form, he seems to have made his appearance in the world, as a frightful and humbling caricature of human nature. And such we find him to be, as well from the plain matter of fact statements of the historians, as from the more vivid delineations of the poet. To effect a representation, therefore, of a character such as this, where almost every deformity is concentrated, that can debase and blacken the human mind -every sentiment, every feeling, every vile and villanous propensity that lust, cruelty, and ambition could generate; to effect any thing like this, we hold to be not only beyond the reach of ordinary, or of good capacities, but to be one of the greatest darings of histrionic enterprize. It is not every actor, even of the first rate, who has acquired the art of identifying himself with his original, though he personifies an easy every day character. But when there is a being to represent, who has nothing in his moral frame to connect him with humanity, the actor who can exhibit a perfect living likeness of him, possesses such a coincidence of feeling with the poet; and such a thorough acquaintance with every fierce sentiment and movement of the human heart, as to render him almost as remarkable as the person he represents. The greatness and the success of Garrick, in this character, we know only by report. We have seen Cooke as Richard, and we thought him the most perfect one of his time; yet, with all his acacknowledged genius, we never saw him divest himself wholly of the actor. The part of Richard was his favourite, and his masterpiece; yet he never, for a moment, imposed, even on his greatest admirers, a belief that he was any other than Cooke. And respecting Kemble, in those very parts where his great powers were evidently collected to produce a deep effect, all the compliment we could ever pay him was, "what a noble specimen of acting is Kemble's Richard." Now we come to one of the greatest points on which Mr. Kean rests his high superiority over every other performance in this character; we mean that imposing air of reality which he throws over every look, and every attitude he assumes. His fiercest frowns, and most fearful emotions, are never out of nature; but precisely such as we can suppose to have been peculiar to his terrible original. He scarcely repeats one half of the soliloquy which constitutes the second scene, where Richard un 399 folds his own character, than our mental exclamation is, "What a monster is Richard." This deception we believe to be invariable and universal; and it is without question the most decisive proof of masterly acting that can be required. So faithfully does he follow nature that every thought of KEAN vanishes away; and we see before us the barbarous and unrelenting Richard descanting on his own deformities, and exulting in his stratagems of usurpation, perfidy, and bloodshed. This perfection in Mr. Kean's acting we take to be, not the result of study (for Mr. K. never studies) but the suggestions of his own genius-an intuitive knowledge of the heart, which nature may confer, once in an age, on some favoured performer, but which is not to be acquired by the closest application. We cannot agree with the common opinion, that Mr. K. does actually suppose himself to be the very character he represents. It is not credible of any player, however warmly he may enter into the spirit of his part, or into the feelings of the poet, that his imagination can supersede the exercise of his judgment, or belie the evidence of his senses. Though a great actor may mislead, by the force of his art, the understanding of his audience, it does not follow that he can practice a similar deception on himself. It is not possible for him to be, at one and the same time, the deceiver and the deceived. We can never forget his fiend-like expression of gladness, cruelty, and furious resolve, when first we heard him repeat the last lines of the soliloquy in Act I. Scene 2. Why then to me this restless world's but hell, At the conclusion of the second act, the tyrant, after murdering Henry, and uttering a few unnatural sarcasms on the occasion, turns upon the corse and stabs it, saying, "Down, down to hell, and say I sent thee thither." We remember that Cooke and Kemble inva"Down, riably rendered this passage, 400 Nuga Literaria-No. IV. just as if Richard had regarded the stabbing of a benefactor, and sending him to hell, as a matter of perfect indifference. We may remark, by the way, that the sudden changes of voice just alluded to, have generally the desired effect; and indeed, when they are introduced with skill, the sensations they create are most wonderful. However, in this instance, we have seen Mr. Kean fall far short of our expectations. He is so fond of an innovation, which is exclusively and confessedly his own, that he brings it forward too often, and too indiscriminately; so much so, that the very peculiarity which, in some parts, we regard as a perfection, becomes, in others, mere tiresome monotony. Richard, so long as success goes with him, and no reverse nor threatening of fortune gives occasion to the operations of conscience, triumphs in his own aggrandizement, and in the success of those precautionary measures by which he thought himself out of the reach of harm or molestation. And here we think that Kean presents a highly-finished portrait of the exulting tyrant. The most stupid observer is struck with the terrific joy that all at once kindles his scowling fea tures Act IV. Scene 4.- I have it-I'll have them sure-get me a coffin Full of holes-and let them both be cramm'd into it," &c. When he suddenly conceives a plan of disposing of the bodies of the murdered young princes, we can compare it to nothing but what we may imagine to be the horrid gladness of an evil spirit on his first clutching a condemned soul into his possession. But when the business of the scene increases, when apprehensions begin to multiply, and conscience to operate, Kean is the veriest Richard we can well conceive. In the awful tent scene (where every performer tries to be great) he exhibits to us a soul tormented by the passions of a demon so effectually, as to distance every cotemporary actor. He starts from his dream of horror, with the exclamation of a mind in agony, and pushes his sword against the flitting images of his disordered brain, with a countenance so expressive of terror, despair, and conscious guilt, as to overpower the most inert imagination. The combat with Richmond, which finishes the tyrant's career, terminates by far too easily and too soon. It is not consistent with the usurper's character [Dec. 1, of fierceness and bravery, to resign his life and his idol-the crown, without a lengthened and inveterate struggle; and this is an oversight which we do not think is by any means compensated by the highly wrought scene of his death, appalling and frightful as it is. Mr. Kean, however, has developed many striking beauties in this play, which the genius of Garrick, Cooke, and Kemble had slighted; in passages, too, the beauties of which the most attentive readers and discerning critics have hitherto overlooked. Much has been said respecting Mr. K.'s person, voice, and pronunciation. Certainly we once could have wished that they had been more perfect than they are; but we are not now disposed to quarrel with them; because we are convinced of a circumstance, concerning which we had formerly been extremely sceptical, namely, that a young man without the advantages of a good voice, of a good figure, or of a graceful utterance, can, by the mere strength of his own conceptions of character, become the best performer on the British stage. R. A. A. NUGE LITERARIÆ. THE SUPPOSED ORIGIN OF TASSO's is a quarto manuscript poem of nearly IN the public library at Lyons there thirty thousand verses, entitled "Godefroi de Bouillon," written in the year 1440. From what I saw of the work I afforded matter for, and suggested the cannot divest my mind of the idea that it plan of Tasso's "Jerusalem Delivered," as it is a succinct narrative of the first Crusade. Bulloign, as Fairfax calls him, is curious, The following anecdote of Godfrey de When this great champion of the Cruand, I believe, not generally known. sades was inaugurated king of Jerusa lem, he was offered a crown, which he meekly declined, saying, that he would where his Saviour had worn a crown of never wear a crown of gold in the place thorns. COINCIDENCES BETWEEN LORD BYRON AND OTHER WRITERS. Menage quotes the following lines from Vida's Art of Poetry, to justify the occasional similarity of two authors when touching upon the same subject:Aspice ut exuvias veterumque insignia nobis 1818.] Nuga Literaria-No. IV. Aptemus; vertim accipimus nunc clara reperta; Nunc seriem atque animum verborum quoque ipsa, Nec pudet interdum alterius nos ore locutos. St. Jerome relates that his preceptor, Donatus, explaining that sensible passage of Terence-"Nihil est dictum quod non sit dictum prius,"-railed severely at the ancients for taking from him his best thoughts-" Pereant qui ante nos, nostra dixerunt." The following coincidences of Lord Byron are not noticed with any invidious intention, but merely as curious and accidental resemblances, which to the literary reader may not prove unamusing. In his exquisite stanzas to Thyrza, Lord Byron has the following thought: In vain my lyre would lightly breathe The smile that sorrow fain would wear, But mocks the woe that lurks beneath Like roses o'er a sepulchre. Poem xiv. s. 3. In some verses by Mrs. Opie, the same idea occurs, though it is expressed with much less spirit and pathos : A face of smiles, a heart of tears! p. 38. "Tis but as ivy leaves around the ruined turret wreath, All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and grey beneath. Stanzas for Music. But these, however, are in precisely the same train of thought as the following: And oft we see gay ivy's wreath The tree with brilliant bloom o'erspread, Opie's Poems, v. 2, p. 144. The delightful stanza next quoted, is, perhaps, the most truly poetical passage of all his lordship's productions. It is in the very loftiest tone of enthusiasm and tenderness. And could oblivion set my soul From all its troubled visions free, "Lines written in Autumn," by Lo gan, contain a similar allusion: Nor drink oblivion to the themes 401 The comparison which occurs in the Flung from the rock on Ocean's foam to sail, Mr. Montgomery concludes his beautiful description of his hero, in "The World before the Flood," in a similar manner. By the bye, the personal character of Lord Byron, to those who are really acquainted with him, and who have not formed their notions of him from mere hearsay, will appear strongly to resemble that of Javan. He only, like the ocean-weed uptorn, save. World before the Flood, p. 24. In a beautiful song commencing with "Maid of Athens ere we part," which was addressed to Miss Macrea, the daughter of the late British Consul at Athens, Lord Byron says Tho' I fly to Istambol Athens holds my heart and soul. Dodsley has the same thought, with out a similar delicacy in his embellishments of it. Though my body must remove, All my soul shall still be here. Campbell. They mourn, but smile at length, and smiling mourn: The tree will wither long before its fall; The hull drives on, tho' mast and sail be torn, The roof-tree sinks, but moulders on the hall. |
