The National Register. — London, England, 1816-05-12 00:00:00

MAY 12. REGISTER. DRURY-LANE. On Thursday night a new Tragedy was produced at thi4 Theatre, candor the title of "Bertram; or, dig Cast!: f t' M. Aldobrand." The following are the. Dramalit Persona': — count Bertram Mr. Kr..N C.mat AlJubrao.l Nil-. Yore Prior of yr. Atiscloseii NIr. HOLLAND Monk* --l'iritte; under Ow command of BowAso --Knights— Pe.tutot C. 'Gingen ny'fl YOUNG LADY, ( II i r firs( app. artistry oii ariq Mtge.) (licr friend) Nlki Rom:: The . CARR. The Scene k Ltiil on the rout of 'icily. n o t eni a, A popular and powei rid Noble•nan, was expelled the kingilmn :or disloyal practices ; and Could A blabrand was the principal author of his exile. Bertram then becalm , the leader of a hand of pirates. The play opens with a violent storm, w Inch destroys his vessel, and casts him ashore, almost dew iveil o f life, close under the walls of a monastery, conti guous to his enemy's castle. He is sheltered by the Nlonks, who a,•iplaint him with the approach of Afete Liven by the Lady of A:;/,brand, to which all strangers were freely invited. The man whom .B..rtitos hates is tit in the wars; lie resolves, therefore, to enter the defenceless castle, mattering s ome i n _ slistinct threats of vengeance against tlw family of its owner. In the mean time we are :.ronglit aemiainted with hon4en, the lemutifill but wretched wife of Mitt/Vaud. She had given way to an ardent passion fir one ( Bertram) who had long been niiinbered with the dead ; and had sidea-ipiently been milted m marriage with a Mistimed forced noon her by parental autho rity. She performs her ditties, but hew ails her miseries t and daring the influx of strangers to her castle she meets with &dram in a solitary walk. This scene, the finest in the play, is wrought up with surpri•ing firer of genii's, and intensity Of passim. The unfortunate 114.ring:a reeogoi, e , th e object of his earliest tender:les.. clan his life was gin .ens and his heart was pure.—/seogrn, though she dreams not of Bar. train's being alise, associates sonic unknown terror with the outflow. He breathes her name, which dissolves the mystery, and lays her ins-nsi isle sit his fei•t. Not t,li she aVOW.4 it, &CS lie discover that she is the wife of his enemy : not till then does he visit her with the dreadful (urse, which, in the tine concep tion and soletnu language of the poet, converts all her blessings into mousers of deep and incurable renimse. The c lam „ t • haves appearing, Bertram, in a plireury, seizes it. to revenge a ll his wrongs by its destruction; but. intently gazing, on the infant realms's, he finds ev..ry where the traces of her whom be has the moment beforsesii Aercely execrated, and breaks out into this affecting p rover —" Gut bless thy child!"—['Phis we conceive to be a imister.piece both of driniatie painting and of skill in human nature] -Bei-beta returns to his hospitable inmks— inia;,^rll soon follows, to seek consolation from the hidy Prior, and chances to meet again with Bertram. Her hus band's return is OilliOilliCed the lover, notwithstanding his sleep despair and misanthropy, seems to feel, in some respects, like cornice') lovers, and uhtabis from his mistress 4 promise to. see him once more within the castle-walls, ere he departs for ever. Comit lido...brawl arrives—Bertram ones to his appoint ment: %%hilt waiting for the expected interview , some of his rival, having heard of return to band inform him, that his I ltl that roast, had set engines in motion to pursue mud destroy him : this news banishes all farther scruple llama mind hither to balancing between shame and vengeance. lie forces his way to the Count's apartment, attacks, and kills him. /not-, is I, driven to inailliess—iiirtram surrenders without resistance - his iialiai , py mistress expires on again beholding him—he stabs himself, and dies beside her. The Author seems not to have employed so much of his power in strengthening the action of his plot, as in developing the passions, meditating the sentiments, and perfecting to the highest degree of which, perhaps, an English poem is susceptible, the imagery and language assigned to the characters in this drama. Nor is very striking novelty of characters so much the attribute of the tragedy of Bertram, as matchless force and ele gance of expression. The heroine is of a class from which drainatie heroines have been must liberally and most advantageously chosen—with enough of sensibility to make her miserable, and enough of virtue to make us compassionate her woe: robed in the richness of his own imagination, the poet, perhaps, has left his heroine too elosely shrouded within its draperies. She is (we sin cerely deprecate the charge of being uncandid) rather too often and too long in the act of seeing invisible, and addressing based to absent, objects. Her reception of her husband, in the 4th act, ought to have awakened sonic suspicion on his part that all was not right ; and her nuttiness in the sth is too much protracted, and pain fully obtruded upon the audience; but these are partial , imperfections. There is a deep interest excited through- ' out : there is a display of vigorous intellect—of im pressive sentiments—of refined taste—of profuse imagi nation—and of pathos the most exquisite and profound, which we presume to say will render this tragedy a pre cious acquisition to the find of our dramatic literature. If, moreover, a man of worth and genius should, to the dishonour of an enlightened community, feel, as we are afraid too many have felt, a want more pressing then that of the dune which infallibly awaits him, we rejoice in the prospects we with confidence anticipate for the author of sue' a production. The whole of the acting of this tragedy is admirable. We never saw Mr. HOLLAND in a more impressive part: the moral and eloquent sentiments of the Prior receive additional force from the manner in which he delivers them. The music also is pure and appropriate ; the scenery picturesque ; and altogether, as a spectacle as well as a drama, it is most creditable to the Theatre. We have hardly room to say more of Miss SONlCR ritux, the debtrlaale of the night, than that she seems a very lovely woman ; and that, under many obvious (Es advinttg,,s, she showed no ordinary talents. Her voice in its natural key is mellow and musical, filling the Theatre apparently without as effort. She lias not yet THE NATIONAT. REGISTER. acquired, hoi.7iever, what a few nights will pruhahly teach—the art of modulating, it with precision. She pitches it too high ; and, as frequentiy happens when Nature is departed from, the higher tones arc the least articulate of all. This young Lady is never theless a subject of great promise. KE.ts's character gave him several opportunities for the exertion of his powers with great effect. At one time, when in idea he was grappling with his enemy, both upon a single plank, and determined that both shall sink together, his look and action ware terrific. It was the struggle of the tiger and the crocodile, stated to have taken Once in the Indian Seas some few years ago. Ile received great applause throughout. This tragedy is the production of the Rev. Mr. MA.. 'roam, a curate, of Dublin, the author of two or three Novels and Romances of considerable merit. It was amidst unanimous acclamations that the Piece was given out fur repetition. We sincerely congratula.c the Public on the appearance of such a PLty. The history of its production is curious. It was sent by the Author, at the recommendation of Mr. Walter Scott, to Lord Byron, with an earnest entreaty that its fete bespealily determined on ; as thee:na il irt of his tinnily for the winter down Icl on its success ; and he offered it to Drary-lane, wholly, for a very triilite; sum. The Noble Poet read it with such admiration, that he sent it, before he slept, to the other Members of the Committee ; requesting that, it' they dil not agree with him in considering it a most extraordinary work, they would forthwith transmit it to the Managers of C.wen t garden, that the deserving Author might have the chance of both Theatres fhr its acceptance. It was cheerfally received, and the Noble Lord the same day sent the Author u handsome present. The Committee have already sold the copy-right of the Tragedy fix the Author, at 1 , 2 times the price which he asked tier it, besides what he will obtain by its pertimmance. Thisis, indeed, liberal manage -11101 t. I'iOLOGUE TO BERTRAM. WRITTEN ny JOON 110E.HOLAE, FAO.—SPOKEN RV MR. RAE. Taught by your judgment, by your favour led, The grateful stage restor'd her mighty dead. But not, when wits (Wages past revive, Shall living genius therefore cease to thrive? No! —the same liberal zeal that fondly tries To save the poet though the mortal dies, Impartial welcomes each illit , trions birth, And justly crowns cotemporary woith. This night a Bard, who, yet, alas! has known Of conscious merit but the pings alone; Through dark misfortune's gloom con'lemn'd to cop. With baffled effort, and with blizlited hope, Still dares to think one friendly voice shall direr lli►siuking soul, and thinks to hail it here ; Fonn'il by the breath of praise. his spark MTh Still, still may glow awl burst into a throw Nor yet with British candour mock the toil 'Tho t ruard ti laurel on our sister soii— That soil to fancy's gay lit %tariatice kind -- That wail which teems with each aspit Mg mind, Rich iu the fruits of glory's ripening slits, Nurse of the brave—the land of WELLiNGTON. !fere, too, this night another candidate Aspires to please, and trembles fbr her fate-- And, as the flower whose I - Yen constant gaze 'turns to her sun and wooes the genial blaze, To your kind eyes our blushing suppliant Lends, And courts the light that beams from smiling friends ;. Oh! calm the conflict of her hopes and fears, N.. stain her cheek with more than mimic tears. Since, then, alike each bold adventurer tines The votary and the handmaid i.f the M tise— Think that the same ilegket, the saute regard, Must ►ink, or save, the actress and the bard. EPILOGUE. WRITTEN DY THE HONOIRAIII,E GEORGE LAMB.-SPOKEN DV MISS IiELLT. Say. for our Author, whose proud hopes aspir e To sound the Tragic tard's neglected lyre. Say, fur our novice, who at once the weight Bears of her own and of the Poet a fate. Oh say, what hope! mine with doubt and fear In this dread hour to ask your judgment here; Yet, for my sake, before your sentence, stay . , And here me draw one moral from the play. Enough for lvtor:cm the tears ye gave her, I conic to say one word in BERTRAM'S favour. BERTRAM! ye cry, a ruthlrss lolood-staiu'd rover! He was—but also was the truest lover: And, faith! like cases that we daily view, All might have prosper'd, had the fair been true. Man, while lie loves, is never quite depray'll; And woman's triumph, is a lover sav'd. The branded wretch, whose callous feelings court Crime for his glory, awl disgrace for sport; If in his breast love claims the smallest part, If still he values one fond female heart, From that one seed, diet ling'ring spark may grow, Pride's noblest tlow'r, and virtue's purest glow : Let but that heart —dear female—lead with care To honour's path, and cheer his progress there : And proud, though haply, sad regret occurs At all his guilt, think all his virtue hers. The fair not always view with fay's* eyes The very virtuous or extremely wise • But, odd it seems, will sometimes rather take Want with the spendthrift, riot with the rake. " None, howe'er vicious, hull all women froward, " None—did I say!—none save the sot and coward." The reason's plain, the good neeti nought to warm them, And we must love the wicked to retbrin them. " Yet we some wives, some sweetheart., may discover, " Almost no better than the spouse or loser; " Nought can to peace the busy female that in, " And if she can't do good she must du harm— " Can chill wane smith, yet fails to warm chill age, 4. Makes sages toois, hot latch- makes fools sage , " Some women, like all men, have taste fur evil, A/111 SS bac they should be angels, play the don." 109 Still woman draws new power, new empire Fre.m every blessing anal from every ill. N'icr on her bosom lolls remorseful rare, And virtue hopes coneenial virtue there. Still she most hides the strength that most Subdues, 'Train each end, its opposite. pursues; !Allies by tiezlert, aelviniees by &oily, And gains eoinnuind by swearing to obey. Women have power too, in these gallant days, (So Authors think of ree.o 11111 l olden.; Plays. Tile lirologite proses, ere the ploy is known, Flogged and dull as the male speaker's tone ; When the scene's done, and loony a fault provokes yal; WOlll4ll and Epilog:le come forth to coax sou. 1 et dare I plead. who, iii this wondrous age, Can only speak and walk upon the stare, Who know not carte, nor tierce, our fencing odds, Nor try a rope's assistance seek the gods. Veit, I will dare; for if ye're plears'al genuine Th e drama re -asserts its right. Ilidericau in crime elate, of inurder proud, Ruthless to man, to woman's accents bow'd ; Be nova like him, your sterner thoughts resign At woman, voice, and let that voice be untie. Lines between the "inverted commas" are omitted in speaking. COVENT-GARDEN. On Monday, in the Tragedy of Julius Caesar, the audience experienced a severe disappointment in the hoarseness of Mr. KEMBLE, who performed the part of flrut , H. In many passages, indeed, he was almost in audible. This circumstance drew forth cries of " Speqk up!" from the galleries, at the beginning of the second scene of the second act; when Mr. KEM nix apologised to the house; saying, that his hoarseness had come upon him too late fs.r a clangs in the piece or the characters ; but that he would proceed, in reliance on its indulgenets if the part were not spoken so plaint,' as it ought to be. This aduress was warmly applauded, and the piece pro ceeded without interruption. It was fidlowed by a me: musical entertainment, br honour of the marriage of the Princess Cu stu.ovrie, entitled The Royal Nuptials : ur, the Masque ql Hymen. As a piece produced on the spur of the occasion, it would be unfair to view it with the rigid eye of criticism. Suf .ice it therefore to say, that it is a showy production, en titled to every indulgence from the consideration of the purpose for which it is intended. The scene commences with a view of the sea-coast in the back ground, and a double line of female characters in front. Various em blematic allusions to the high Saxon origin of the Prince were exhibited ; and in the progress of the Masque an abundance of magnificent scenery and appropriate deco ration was displayed. Mrs. RENAUD was the majestic re presentative of Britannia, Miss S. BOOTH personified /fusses, and Miss STEPHENS and Miss MATHEWS Were Attendant Nyniyht. Miss thanes is also introduced, but in a manner which reflects no credit on the taste of those by whom the piece has been produced. She was exhibited to the public in a part altogether unworthy so accomplished a person, and in which she was ofli!red no opportunity whatever for the display of her talents. In nmny parts of the piece, a considerable portion of spirit was evinced ; and on the whole, it went off successfully, The house was well filled in all parts. On Saturday Miss O'Neill took her benefit, and ap peared for the first time as the representative of Mrs. Oakley, in the Comedy of The Jealous Wife. She w L is very successful ; and, though her comedy does not excite those extacics of mirth, which her tragedy awakes of sor row, her performance gave unmixed pleasure thmughout, and would have been sufficient to give her -fame as the votary of Thalia, had she not previously so greatl♦ distinguished herself in the service of Melp9meae. In other hands, we have seen the diameter of Mrs. Oakley provoke more laughter; but this has generally been at the expense of that dignity and interest which, with all her failings, ought still to attach to The Jealous to account thr the hold whiCh she retains to the last on the affections of her husband. These Miss O'Neill appeared careful not to compromise; and in her most boisterous scene:, there were still some fascinating touches, which might well be supposed to captivate him who had most reason to complain of her ground less suspicion. In the scene where she visits Ludy Freelove, her anxiety to conceal the real object of solic►- tude ; her embarrassment at finding she has incautiously revealed the secret, and the air with which she endea voured to correct this mistake, where she says—" Not my husband, of course," were admirable; and her sulise quent ineffectual efforts to conceal her distresswere not less entitled to praise. Thestrongavcrsionwithwhichsheavoid ed Harriet in the last scene, was finely contrasted with the tenderness and penitence which marked her deportment when shewas final ly convinced of her error ; and thuoders of applause when the curtain descended, announced the high interest the audience had taken in the business of the play, and the exquisite gratification which they had derived from the elliwts of the heroine. The play was, generally, well cast. Y OUNG was very good its, some parts of Mr. Oakky, but occasionally was a little farcical. Mr. C. Kzmut x playa Charles with great spirit, humour, and propriety. TERRY gave a fine cool, natural portrait of the Mqjor ; FA WC ETT was irresistibly laughable in Tokri.v's Captain (Yeutter was mu .11 too coarse. Mrs. C nits 1T:44 admirable in the part of Lath/ Freelure ; and Miss F•ooT¢ obtained and merited consi derable applause as Harriet. The house was well tended, hut nut crowded.