The Sun.
London, England, 1838-02-01 00:00:00

THEATRES.

COT/ENT-GARDEN.
King Lear, from the text of Shalispeare has been produced
at this theatre. Considering the character of the tragedy—
the length of time that has elapsed since it was with any effi-
ciency represented—and the efforts which are hire making to
restore the legitimate drama—this event appears worthy of
greater attention than the press of Parliamentary and other
matter has hitherto allowed us to give to it.
When Mr. Macready assumed the management of the second
theatre in the empire, with the truly noble design of ele-
vating and purifying the national taste in regard to the
drama, lie wisely judged that this could only be effected
through the medium of Shakspeare's unrivalled works,
in which alone is to be found the right standard of
dramatic excellence ; and he resolved to devote his
main energies to their representation. Hamlet, Macbeth, and
Othello have been successively brought forward in a style, as
far as possible (looking at the present condition of the stage)
worthy of these matchless creations of our immortal bard's
transcendent genius, and with a success abundantly justifying
the bold reliance which Mr. Macready placed upon them.
But the crowning achievement is the production of Lear.
Lear has always appeared to us by far the greatest work of
Shakspeare's tragic muse. Not Macbeth, surrounded as
it is with the dark mysteries of supernatural agency—not
Othello, with all its touching and ♦aried alternations of
conflicting emotions—not Hamlet, displaying, though it does,
the deep, subtle workings of a philosophical and contemplative
spirit, so move our sympathies, or excite our awe, by a picture
at once so affecting and sublime. Tet it is observable through
what simple means the poet has produced such wonderful
effects. He neither conjures up beings " not of earth," to
hint darkly at the future, nor summons the spirits of the de-
parted to reveal " close pent-up guilt." But never does he
dive deeper into the recesses of the human heart; never does
he display such a profound knowledge of its thousand strings of
passion and feeling, never does he play upon them with such skill;
touched by his master-hand, the chords now breath—the softest
melody—now "vibrate horrible discord." In the story of the
" foolish, fond, old man," he depicts the agonies of a heart
tremblingly alive to all the emotions which can agitate human
nature, torn and lacerated by the sharp ♦ulture-tooth of filial
ingratitude : he marks the rise, the ebb and flow, of that tre-
mendous flood of passion thus roused by the uprooting of the
first-born and the firmest planted affection of our nature, and
describes the impetuous beating of the torrent against the
mind's frail tenement, till the understanding sinks beneath the
fearful contest, and reason's light is extinguished by the rude
blast of the tempest. And then (most wonderful of all), he
shows us the wreck of intellect—illumined only by the fitful
glare of insanity, as it is either suddenly brightened by mo-
mentary flashes, almost of inspiration, or clouded by the
darkness of hopeless idiocy.
This is Lyan

To attempt the representation of such a tragedy as this,
must ever be a perilous, if not a daring experiment. It is like
—as Charles Lamb finely observed—like endeavouring to pre-
sent upon the stage the Satan of Milton, or some of the ter-
rible forms of Michael Angelo. It is utterly impossible for
any actor, however talented, to keep up with the soarings of
the poet; there is a moral sublimity and grandeur about "this
child-changed father," which it requires the force of an imagi-
nation almost as powerful as that of the poet himself even to rea-
lize in thought, and which it utterly defies all human forms of
expression to convey. Still, in so much of it as lies within the
grasp of an actor's genius to delineate, there is ample field for
the exercise of his talent; as the great success of Garrick,
Henderson, and John Kemble in this character proves. In-
deed, that actor deserves no slight credit, who, in a part like
this, if he comes not up to our conception of it, at least does
not, by his performance, offer any great shock to the ideas
which the poet has impressed upon our imagination. But
Mr. Macready's personation of Lear merits more than such
" faint praise" es this. It came much nearer to the Lear
of Shakspeare than we expected, or than we had ever
seen it carried by any other actor. It was a carefully
studied, an original, and forcible delineation of the cha
racter. The ebullitions of " hideous rashness " in the
aged but impetuous moanarch—the frantic paroxysms of
wrath—the awful bursts of paternal maledietions—with the
beautiful touches of tenderness and pathos by which the darker
traits are softened and relieved—were expressed with wonderful
fidelity, and with that discriminating taste which gives such a
finish to all the performances of this gentleman. There was
an absence of all straining at effect—an case—a naturalness—
and therefore a truth always so desirable in acting, and which
in this case added greatly to the charm. In the pourtraying cf
Lear's madness however—the most interesting and most diffi-
cult portion of the tragedy—Mr. Macrcady was at times betrayed
into that unfortunate mannerism, so habitual to him, which too
often rears the effect of his powerful acting. As nothing is
so unsophisticated as madness, that which in any degree de-
stroys the simplicity cf the personation, necessarily detracts
from its truth. With the exception of this occasional defect,
Mr. Macready's assumption of insanity—the perpetual wan-
dering of attention—the rapid transitions from the loftiest
moralizing, or the most terrible denunciation, to the last ex-
treme of imbecility—the close connection of the puerile with
the sublime—

Matter and impertinency mixed,"
" Reason in madness,"
was equally correct and impressive. Taken " for all in all," it
was one of the best sustained performances we ever witnessed.
To point out its particular beauties, would be to enumerate
the most striking passages in the tragedy. And we are not
partial to that species of criticism in detail, which dwells upon
particular parts, neglecting what is far more important—the
general development of a character. But we cannot refrain
from the pleasure of recalling a few of those parts of the per-
formance, which are most vividly impressed upon our mind.
Nothing could be more terribly affecting, than Mr. Alacready's
delivery of that most dreadful imprecation—Lear's curse of
Goneril. The look—the attitude of frenzied indignation--
the gradual bending of the knees—the wild clasping of the
hands—the upraised countenance—the quivering lips—the
pronounciation of the curse itself—the first passionate invoca-
tion—the progress, from the earnest solemnity of prayer to
the rapid utterance of an almost suffocating wrath—and the
outbreak of " natural weakness" at the conclusion—were
altogether so harrowing, and at the same so true to nature,
as we have never seen it paralleled in any histrionic effort.
Equally fine was the scene with Gloster, when, exasperated
by the insulting delay of Cornwall and Regan, the old King
bursts forth into the exclamations of contemptuous anger and
outraged dignity--
" Vengeance 1 plague 1 death 1 confusion I
Fiery I What quality ? Why, Gloster,
I'd speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife.
The King would speak with Cornwall, the dear father
Would with his daughter speak—commands her services.
Are they informed of this?
And beautifully expressed was the change from indignation's
loud and hurried tones, to the kind accents of considerate for-
bearance_

" Fiery I—the hot Duke I Tell the hot Duke that—
No, I—but not yet--may be he is mot well."
Not less faithfully marked were the variations of passionate
expostulation,—

" Oh 1 reason not the need I &c."
The sublime appeal to the heavens
" You see me here, you gods, a. poor old man," &C.
The almost savage threatenings of revenge,—
" No, you unnatural hags,—
I will have such revenges on you both,—
I will do such things,
What they are yet I know not,
But they shall be the terrors of the fsarth I"
The touching combination, of majesty and weakness.
" You think I'll weep,
No,—l'll not weep,—
I have full cause of weeping, but this heart
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws,
Or e'er I'll weep."
And the fearful conviction of approaching madness—
" Oh, fool,-_I shall go mad 1"
It is impossible to speak in too high terms of Mr. Mac-
ready's look and manner, when, in depicting the insanity
of the woe-stricken monarch, he utters the words which, with
such wonderful skill, the poet puts into his mouth, as indicative
of mental aberration—

" They cannot touch me for coining,—
There's your press money,..
That fellow handles his bow well,—
L ook—look—a mouse,
There's my gauntlet,—
I'll prove it on a giant :
Oh I well flown bird,—
Give the word."
Nor of his bitter satire,—
" Look,—how on justice rails upon that simple thief,—
Change places,—and--handy-dandy,
Which is the justice ? Which the thief?
Or again,
" A dog's obeyed in office."—
Through tattered clothes, small vices do appear,
Robes and fur gowns hide all."
We have no space to enlarge upon his affecting recognition
of Cordelia, or the natural pathos of his death-scene. We
cannot forbear expressing our delight that this noble tragedy
of Shakspeare has at length been freed from the corruptions
of Tate and Cibber,
,c Who, with their darkness durst affront his light,"
And that the afflicted King is no longer separated from the
<< bitter," " pestilent fool," who occupied so dear a place in
his heart—even at the moment of its most torturing agony.
In conclusion we have only to observe, that the tragedy was
produced with that care—that taste—that attention to general
effect—whether in the filling up of the subordinate characters,
or in scenery and dresses—which is so remarkable in the ma-
nagement of Mr. Macready.

MAILS,

Arrived, Due i Arrived. Due.
0 America. ..... .... 0 , 0 France.,.,- 0
0 Brazil .....,....... 0 0 Guern. & Jersey 0
0 Buenos Ayres.. 0 0 Hamburg 4
0 Carthagena...„„. 0 1 Holland
1 Dub1in........... 8 0 Jamaica 0
0 Flanders