The Sun.
London, England, 1834-07-09 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

THE LIFE OF MRS. SIDDONS. By Thomas
Campbell. Effingham Wilson, 1834.
_ _

The impress of the immortal genius of the author is vi-
sible in every page of this work. In sentiments manly,
dignified, and ennobling ; in feelings warm, generous, and
enthusiastic ; in language pure, natural, and classically elegant
—the life of Siddons by the bard of the " Pleasures of Hope,"
is a book of great, of transcendent merit. It is, in one word,
a pattern of biography. The reader will look in vain through
its pages for a specimen of the Boswell and I'iozzi love of
lollypop anecdotes, so humourously dramatized by the witty
Dr. Wolcot. The author was no spy on the conduct of the
amiable, accomplished, and highly talented female, who had
the judicious discernment to enrol his name among her best
friends. He does not pollute his ethereal plumage by stoop-
ing to pick up materials for impertinent curiosity, low scandal,
and mean malignity to prey upon. What the public is really
interested to know, Mr. Campbell has supplied with a re-
gard to truth and fidelity ; and with a degree of tenderness
and self-denial which will insure him the real respect, and
sincere esteem of every man who sees merit in modesty, vir-
tue in veracity, and right feeling in preserving unbroken
the hallowed seal of mutual confidence.

But to say only that the work is well written, and a
faithful portraiture of the greatest female tragedian that
ever graced the English stage, is to omit, perhaps, its greatest
excellence. The " Life of Siddons" comprises a great deal
of useful stage and critical information, respecting the state
of the British drama from the accession of Charles 11., with
anecdotes of the most celebrated female actors down to our
own times. It is further enriched by notes, from the pen
of Siddons herself, on Shakspeare's " Macbeth," which will
not fail to place the memory of that extraordinary woman
in a new and brilliant light before the world. Those who
admired her as an actress, and knew her as an amiable,
tender, and virtuous mother, will be astonished to hear that,
without neglecting her duty as a Christian, a wife, a pa-
rent, and a stage prodigy, she found time to write strictures
on the leading characters of the Bard of Avon, which Dr.
Johnson, with all his pomp, has not equalled.
The following extract is from the pen of Mrs. Siddons
herself, describing her second appearance at Drury-lane in

1782. We recommend it to the attention of play-goers,
who are too often unconscious of the dreadful pain which
they inflict :
" For a whole fortnight before this (to me) memorable day, I
suffered from nervous agitation more than can be imagined. No
wonder ! for my own fate, and that of my little family, hung upon
it. I had quitted Bath, where all my efforts had been successful,
and I feared lest a second failure in London might influence the
public mind greatly to my prejudice, in the event of my return from
Drury-lane, disgraced as I formerly had been. In due time I was
summoned to the rehearsal of ' Isabella.' Who can imagine my
terror ? I feared to utter a sound above an audible whisper ; but
by degrees enthusiasm cheered me into a forgetfulness of my fears,
and I unconsciously threw out my voice, which failed- not to be
heard in the remotest part of the house, by a friend who kindly un-
dertook to ascertain the happy circumstance. The countenances,
no less than tears and flattering encouragements of my companions,
emboldened me more and more ; and the second rehearsal was even
more affecting than the first. Mr. King, who was then manager,
was loud in his applauses. This second rehearsal took place on
the Bth of October, 1782, and on the evening of that day I was
seized with a nervous hoarseness, which made me extremely
wretched; for I dreaded being obliged to defer my appearance on
the 10th, longing, as I most earnestly did, at least to know the
worst. I went to bed, therefore, in a state of dreadful suspense.
Awaking the next morning, however, though out of restless, un-
freshing sleep, I found, upon speaking to my husband, that my
voice was very much clearer. This, of course, was a great comfort
to me; and, moreover, the sun, which had been completely ob-
scured for many days, shone brightly through my curtains. I
hailed it, though tearfully, yet thankfully, as a happy omen ; and
even now I am not ashamed of this (as it may perhaps be called)
childish superstition. On the morning of the 10th, my voice was,
most happily, perfectly restored ; and again The blessed sun shone
brightly on me.' On this eventful day my father arrived to comfort
me, and to be a witness of my trial. He accompanied me to my
dressing-room at the theatre. There he left me ; and 1, in one of
what I call my desperate tranquillities, which usually impress me
under terrific circumstances, there completed my dress, to the asto-
nishment of my attendants, without uttering one word, though
often sighing most profoundly.
"At length I was called to my fiery trial. I found my vener-
able father behind the scenes, little less agitated than myself. The
awful consciousness that one is the sole object of attention to that
immense space, lined as it were with human intellect from top to
bottom, and all around, may perhaps be imagined, but can never
be described, and by me can never be forgotten.
" Of the general effect of this night's performance I need not
speak ;it has already been publicly recorded. I reached my own
quiet fireside, on retiring from the scene of reiterated shouts and
plaudits. I was half dead; and my joy and thankfulness were of
too solemn and overpowering a nature to admit of words, or even
tears. My father, any husband, and myself, sat down to a frugal
neat supper, in a silence uninterrupted, except by exclamations of
gladness from Mr. Siddons. My father enjoyed his refreshments ;
but occasionally stopped short, and, laying down his knife and fork,
lifted up his venerable face, and throwing back his silver hair, gave
way to tears of happiness. We soon parted for the night ; and I,
worn out with continually broken rest and laborious exertion, after
an hour's retrospection, (who can conceive the intenseness of that
reverie ?) fell into a sweet and profound sleep, which lasted to the
middle of the next day. I arose alert in mind and body."

Mr. Campbell has ably defended the drama in this work.
We are obliged to deny our readers the pleasure of more
than a brief extract :

6. To say that the stage is liable to abuse, is to say nothine, more
than is applicable to every other source of human pleasure.' You
cannot excite men joyously without some contingent dangers. The
playhouse, say its enemies, is the resort of great numbers of the
vicious, the idle, and the dissipated. Unhappily, so are all po-
pular assemblies, not excepting every Methodist meeting in the
kingdom. In fact, if you proscribe theatres, you are bound, in con-
sistency, to persecute Methodism, to uproot vineyards, to destroy
breweries, and to abolish music and dancing.
" And religion says as little as sound morality against plays and
players. The Scriptures no where stigmatize them, though, in our
Saviour's time, there was a theatre in Jerusalem. That theatrical
establishment, we know, was forced upon the Jews, at the expense
of several lives, by Herod the Great ; and, after his death, if Jesus
Christ had thought a theatre among the evils to be extirpated by
Christianity, he would have found no topic more popular than an
innovation so violent to Jewish feelings. But he has left upon it
not the slightest denunciation ; and, in this circumstance, he is
imitated by all the apostles : St. Paul even quotes a dramatic poet,
and chews that he was well acquainted with the Attic Drama."