The Sun.
London, England, 1853-09-06 00:00:00

(From the Times.)

Any person, on seeing the crowd assembled at the
doors of Drury-lane Theatre yesterday evening, and the
word " Othello" in the play bills, might have fancied
that the old days of " Old Drury" had returned, and
that the legitimate drama was once more seated in its
large ancient domicile. The aspect of the interior of
the house was enough to confirm the opinion. There
was the dense pit and the galleries crowded with count-
less expectants, as in former times ; there was a goodly
assemblage in the boxes ; and lastly, every seat of that
modern row of innovations, the " stalls," was occupied.
Let us add that this huge audience was most atten-
tive, and even reverential. A refined soliloquoy by
Mademoiselle Rachel could not have been listened to
with more watchful interest at the St. James's Theatre
than was every line of Othello by the Drury-lane public
last night. The spectators seemed really absorbed in
the progress of the piece, and indignantly hushed down
a cough or a whisper, as if it were an intrusion on an
awful solemnity.
If such an audience had also been a critical audience,
the restoration of the legitimate drama to all its pristine
dignities might have been predicted without the fear
of error. But with all its attention—with all its rever-
ence—with all its interest, a very little observation
was required to show that this was a public in which the
critical faculty did not exist. When they rose into
applause (and it was applause !) at a speech of Mr.
Brooke's it was generally because he spoke louder than
ordinary ; nor, indeed, could we see a single instance in
which any talent but that of loud speaking elicited
audible approbation from the audience. In fact, Drury-
lane was still a huge minor theatre, with that believing,
uninquiring, hearty audience which we generally find in
more southern regions, and which can equally appreciate
the tragedies of Shakespere and the strong nautical
drama. Such an audience may well be the delight of
managers, but it is no good training school for actors.
Mr. G. V. Brooke, the "star"' of the occasion, has
come back, after a long absence, blessed with the re-
covery of those physical advantages which had failed him
when he was last in London. He has certainly a splen-
did voice, deep and sonorous at will, and capable of ex-
pressing manly pathos to a degree which, if the organ
were well managed, might be affecting in the extreme.
But as an artiste he has not made any advance. A slow
chanting method of representing grief—a disposition to
rant whenever an opportunity offers—a habit of slow
preparation which destroys all appearance of spon-
taneity, and is followed by no important result—these
are the chief characteristics of his Othello through.
out. Nor are we enabled to discover on what prin •
ciple he regulates his distribution of expression. Lines
which we should have looked upon as merely de-
clamatory, or perhaps pathetic, he sometimes gave in a
storm of fury, while fierce invectives were occasionally
delivered in the tone of sorrow. Now and then, indeed,
he gave indication of better things. Part of the con-
cluding speech of the whole, for instance, was delivered
with a deep-toned unexaggerated sorrow, which made
us regret that such good natural qualities had not re-
ceived better training.
These objections, however, merely apply to the claims
of Mr. G. V. Brooke as a high tragic artiste. For such
an audience as we had last night at Drury-lane his per-
formance was the very thing. If he stormed, he stormed
in good earnest ; if he sorrowed, he marked out his sor-
rows right mournfully. It was strong black and-white
acting. To deny that he was successful would not only
be unjust—it would be absurd. Probably a more tre-
mendous success was never witnessed. Mr. G-. V.
Brooke was called at the end of the third act ; and at the
end of the piece hats were waved as to the candidate at
a successful election. The feeling too was no doubt
genuine ; and Mr. Brooke, likely enough, will draw full
houses during the whole course of his engagement. If
we do not admire ourselves, we would at any rate faith-
fully record the admiration of others.

(From the Morning Chronicle.)

Last night Mr. Brooke again appeared in London as
Othello. We have no word to retract from the expres-
sion of our original opinion, and scarcely one to add.
Mr. Brooke's magnificent voice--perhaps the finest
which is heard on the English stage—retains all its
power, resonance, and impressiveness. He evinces all
his old stage knowledge, and his occasional picturesque-
ness still gratifies the eye, while the judgment remains
unsatisfied. He appears to be still what he was when
he left us—a most effective and even brilliant melo-
dramatic actor, who might, if he chose, he invaluable,
and even great, in the romantic drama, but who cannot
breathe " the difficult air of the iced mountain top."
Last night, as when he originally came out, the spirit
and meaning of the Shaksperian line were not infre-
quently sacrificed for the sake of a vocal " point "—in-
tensity was purchased at the price of appropriateness—
and the general effect was fragmentary and discordant.
But Mr. Brooke trod the stage finely—the area of
Drury-lane gave him scope for the tragic stride and
sweep ; and he worked up each scene with a zeal and a
conscientiousness which forbad the least satisfied of his
spectators to treat the performance disrespectfully.
Could we as conscientiously state that our opinion of
his powers had been modified by what we saw last night,
we should gladly make that statement, but we cannot
see that the Mr. Brooke of Drury-lane is other than the
Mr. Brooke of the Olympic.

(Prom the Morning Post.)
The above theatre was re-opened last night for a short
dramatic season, of which Mr. Gustavus Brooke, who
appeared on the occasion as Othello, is, we presume, to
be the hero. We had never before seen him in that very
arduous character, and his delineation of it certainly
struck us very much. It was powerful, dignified, in-
tense, throughout. The alternate bursts of grief and
fury in the great scenes with lago were given with
overwhelming energy ; the rough manly demeanour of
him to whom custom "bath made the flinty and steel
couch of war his thrice-driven bed of down,'. never for

an instant forgotten ; and the actor's conceptions every-
where received the most complete expression from a
strongly marked, intelligent physiognomy, eloquent ges-
tures, and a voice of extraordinary depth and sonority.
With a little more animation in the delivery of declama-
tory passages, and pathos in the touching speeches, "0,
now, farewell for ever the tranquil mind !" and "Had
it pleased Heaven," &c., where the mental anguish might
well wring tears even from a stern warrior, Mr. Brooke's
performance would have been. almost irreproachable.
In that portion of the play where Othello first listens
to the horrible insinuations of lago, who gradually
poisons the source of all his joys, the artist pleased us
most. Here he was really at times sublime. Distract-
ing doubt—amazement—frantic rage, and blank deso-
lation, were by turns depicted with perfectly illusive
faithfulness, while the wailing tones of his ponderous
voice, which ever and anon came forth as from the ruins
of a heart, sounded like the dreary song of the night
wind careering through a churchyaid. They were lonu-
and terrible sighs, such as Beethoven makes us hear in
his wonderful pianoforte "sortota quasi fantasia" in C
sharp minor. We have now stated generally what we
admired, and what we think susceptible of improve.