The Press. — London, England, 1858-07-31 00:00:00

THE PRESS, JULY 31, 1658. a populous district, the medical practitioner, and the 1 hospital nurse witness it with scarcely an emotion. The outpouring of blood is a sickening sight ; but habit makes the most tender-hearted indifferent to it. The various forms in which death is served up to us on the stage may, indeed, defer beyond its natural time the period of satiation, but not for any length of time. There are only three modes of dying, his trionically, recognized on civilized " boards," viz., from natural causes, by poison, and by the poniard. The first is the least in vogue, because, being an every-day and an unavoidable occurrence, it possesses little interest as a spectacle. The second, in its contortions, its writhings, its protracted agony, its prolonged sighs and upturned eyeballs, has powers of fascination which render it almost., if not quite, as fashionable as the last, with its threatening gestures, its gleaming blade, and rapid result. But, ring the changes as we ►nay on these three deaths a la mode, they inevitably and soon pall upon the most morbid senses. To keep up a relish for witnessing the representation of man's last struggle for life, we require not a mere variety in the form of the struggle itself, but such a complete change in the modus cperandi as can only be found in the hands of a new performer. He who has seen Mme. Ristori die in Phidre, has also seen her die in Octavio, Adrienne Lecourreur, &c.; but he has not seen the end of Rachael in Phidre, of Piccolomini in Luisa Miller, or of Giuglini in Lucrezia Borgia. This argument applies, to a great extent, to the perfor mance even of English tragedy, before an English audience, but with far less force than in the case before us. This brings us to, secondly, the use of a foreign tongue. Under this bead we may say, at starting, we do not be. lieve that an English Alfieri, Racine, or Corneille would be found popular on the stage. These writers derived the success that has attended their efforts to that sympathy which, owing to the diversity of national idiosyncrasies, can only be elicited from those to whom an author's language is identical with their being. Our British character is too matter-of fact for the due appreciation of that idealism which is the very essence of dramatic writings a la Phedre. Nearly all the best of our own tragedies are mere collections of historical facts and incidents (more or less closely followed) adapted to the stage; and, although we may occasionally like to travel in the region of clouds for a brief period, out of curiosity and for the love of change, the ethereal is not oar element ; we can exist therein for a while, but not a long while. But, unfortunately, nearly all Mme. Ristori's performances have belonged strictly to the region of the ideal ; and still more unfortunate is it, as we have on a former occasion remarked, that pro bably not one in ten of the most educated class in this country is sufficiently master of the Italian tongue to follow and understand her utterance—so that even the small amount of visionary capacity which a British audience may be supposed to pos sess is, at these Italian representations, to a great extent imprisoned within the bosom of its possessors, by reason cf the defective communication between their understandings and the actor's words. Under these circumstances, their interest becomes chiefly, if not entirely, dependent on looks, gestures, and actions—in fact, on pantomime. But there is some thing so unsubstantial, so unsatisfactory, in this limited and indirect appeal to the inward senses, that we cannot wonder if it soon fails to attain its end, especially in this phlegmatic country. In gesticulation, sighs and groans, there is after all but small room for variety; and even were there a greater choice in deaths by violence, we could not have a poisoned cup or a flashing blade in every scene. As for a throat cut from ear to ear, that is out of the question within a circle whose centre is Charing cross and radius half a mile. All the difficulties ',and we have only enumerated some of them) arising out of the use of a language that is only partially known to the audience, are, we think, greatly aggravated, when pieces placed on the stage have a nationality different from that of those who perform in them. We have on a previous occasion alluded to the depreciatior. of a play by translation into a foreign tongue ; but we think Vie injury occasioned to it by foreign actors is still greater. - To illustrate our messuiug, Ruble's Phicke 731 loses much in Dalt' Ongaro's translation, but mill mote in the hands of an Italian company of actoes. It would probably suffer less by translation if per formed by Frenchmen. The superiority of Octavia, as given recently at the St. James's Theatre, over Phitire is moat manifest, and yet the original of the latter is at least as fine as the former; but Allleri's work was rendered in its mother tongue by com patriots of the author, whilst Riteine'S beautiful tragedy, although admirably translated, was but a translation, and delivered by Italians. Frcm tbis argument, it will be perceived that we attribute as a third cause of a failure we so much lament, an in jinlicious selection ( f Cie pieces produced by the Italian Dramatic Company. It is not our design to thr3w cold water on specu lations having the nbject of introducing to English boards foreign performances. Far from it. We should like to see Ristoris of any nation welcomed here Year after year; and it is exactly becau-e we have this desire that we venture to give a little ad vice to such enterprizing dramatic speculators as Mr. Gye. There is no reason why a foreign company of actors should not share with their English brethren the patronage bestowed on thedrama in this country; but we think the amount of their success will always depend (I ) on the nation to which they belong, and (2) on the judicious selection of plays. Under the first head we would recal to mind the enthu siasm that attended Rachel's performances in London, and then ask our readers to endeavour to conceive the effect that would be produced by a star (supposing it possible) of ten times the magnitude of that great French tragedienne, appearing with every advantage of locality and other attractive accessories, but delivering herself in the Russian language. No result but an empty theatre could manifestly attend such an event. Well, then, we say, the French and the Russian—the most and the least known continental languages in this coun try—being taken as the superior and inferior limits respectively of our European lingual knowledge, that the success of a foreign dramatic company in this country will depend on our acquaintance with the language used 13 , -ing nearer to the former or the latter, and will vary directly from the former to the latter. Under the second head it flows immediately from the arguments already used, that the repertory should be confined as much as possible to original plays in their original language, having the attrac tion of national or historical associations, or involving matters of every-day life, poetry and idealism being regarded as suspicious ground on which to tread. The great success of Elisabetta Regina d'highilterra confirms the former part of this condition, and the unmistakeable preference of that vapid trash, Adrienne Lecouvreur, over such productions as Phicire, Maria Stuarda, J4c, confirms the latter part. We understand that Mme. Ristori is endeavouring to add to her laurels north of the Tweed. We heartily wish her better luck than she had here ; and we trust that Queen Bess may be reproduced for our enjoyment next season. HER MAJESTY'S THEATRE.— Mlle. Titiena will leave London for Vienna on Wednesday next, Tues day being her last appearance. The theatre finally closes on Saturday next, the 7th lost, with La Traviata, Mlle. Piccolomini and Signor Giuglini leaving London on the Monday following for Dublin, where they have been announced to appear in a series of representations. CHARACTER OF THE EIFIL.—QURiIIt is the wnra which best expresses the character of an Eifel landscape. They say that once in its hot youth it wag a volcanic region, and on the face of the country there is abundant evidence of its early excesses. It has long since reformed and settled down for good; but still, as is often the case with a steadied rake, it seems to smile half regretfully. half complacently, over the recollection of its youthful freaks. Little streams come :tickling down its hilly cheeks with a gut gling chuckle, as if they enjoyed the thought of the jolly times wLen they were lava; while in the valley below there is a long sigh among the beechwoods that sounds like the echo of Master Shallow's "0 ! the mad days that I have spent." Each of those angular monticles is the record of sotne juvenile escapade in the way of an eruption, and even still from a distance they have a defiant perky look. But if you ascend one of them, instead of a savage chasm ready to heavo hot stones in your face, you End nothing but a sort of earthen bowl, from the bottom of which an Eifel ploughman and a pair of cows yoked by the horns look up at you with a mild wonder ; or in some cases a deep blue lakelet, laughing itself into ripples at the surprise it has given you. There is a good deal of mock modesty about these sly little tarns r with a perfect concions ness of their own bmintv, they *Mot a anvil humility, and seem to say, "Ab you should have seen me when I was an active Frlgeires:MOsizilie. was not what we could wish, bat, we think, less cold than in general ; but her sweet voice and perfect command of it enabled her to more than atone for her histrionic defects. In the favourite duet "La ci darem," in the aria "Bath, batti, 0 bel Masetto," and in 44 v e desi, carino " (all of which were encored enthu siastically), she sang as perhaps no Zerlina ever sa ng before. We longed to combine with her eharming vocalization Mlle. Piccolomini's unrivalled acting of this part. Signor Mario showed no little cou rage in undertaking the experiment of a tenor Giovanni; and he, undoubtedly, deserves much praise for the way in which he acquitted himself of his task. The beautiful serenade, " Deh vieui ally finestra," never was better sung ; and, in fact, it may be truly said that the music as intrusted to him was done ample justice to. But we are not satisfied with the transposition of the part. If it had been originally written for a tenor (and we have never been able to understand why it was not), we• think the opera would be even more attractive than it is ; but we prefer the baritone original to the tenor transpo sition ; and, notwithstanding the ye', good singing and far from indifferent acting of Mario in the part — and in spite of a nature/ well adapted to the imper sonation—we must, we fear, write his name down in the long list—not, however, quite so long as Leporello's catalogue of his master fi Spanish amours — of the Giovanni failures. Signor Ronconi, as Leporello, was in his element. and thoroughly did he disport himself in it. He has, perhaps, never under taken a character in which he is capable of giving more, if so much, satisfaction. His natural love of buffoonery, which detracts so greatly from his merits in the part of the English nobleman in Fra Diavolo, comes to his aid in Leporello and Figaro, rendering him all that can be desired for those characters. It would be difficult to find a better Don Ottavio than Signor Tamberlik. In no hands can the part be otherwise than insipid; bat he did all that could be expected in it. His rendering of "Il mio tesoro " was most exquisite, obtaining a well-deserved encore. Mauna! was well impersonated by Signor Polonini, who is far above the average of Masettos. Alto gether, we may name Don Giovanni as the strongest. east opera that has been produced at this house during the present season. It was divided into four instead of three acts, as written, the middle of sc. 3. act i. being the end of the first act. Almost the only faiult to be found with the director of the teeatre on this occasion is the length of time that elapsed between consecutive acts. Between the third and fourth this delay produced a perfect uproar. We have no doubt that means will be found to prevent a repetition of this unpleasant waste of time, which prolonged the representation on Thursday so greatly that very many persons left at the end of the third act. Nothing was wanting to the completeness and beauty of the opera, in the orchestral and scenic de partments. The effects produced by the latter were more splendid than can be seen anywhere but in this Opera-house. Ett liramL MADAME RISTORI. THE great Italian tragedienne—the tragedian of the day—has left us. What is the impression that sbe has left upon us? It would be difficult to say what is its depth ; but we easily arrive at this concluNion, that it is not equal, or nearly equal, to her merits. During twelve nights she performed in a very small, but nevertheless only half•filled theatre ; and this, notwithstanding all her great and acknowledged powers, and that she was very creditably supported by the company who are attached to her—notwith • standing, too, that her talents were well known amongst us, from the experience we have before had of them in this capital. But whence comes this apparent indifference to high art in a city which, at the season of the year that is now closing, contains probably a larger assemblage of the cultivated and refined of all nations than could be found in any other place in the world' We think it due to more causes than one ; hut, in the main, we adhere to that to which we have attributed it in a former number. Firm, the love of novelty, inherent in our nature, winch had been satiated before Mme. Ristori returned to us thi s year. lier handsome face and figure, her stern and lofty declamation, her thrilling effects, were all familiar to us. We had but to read of the immolation of her children at the foot of the statue of Saturn, and w 3 at once saw her as Medea— `sole, trernante, smirks, eon nn coltello in sangui. nito in mann." Then, there is a sameness and weariness inseparable from tragedy. Nothing is more awfal in itself th-m - death ; yet the minister of