The Sun.
London, England, 1856-06-05 00:00:00

LYCEUM THEATRE.

Never prObably—save on the first night of the first
amateur pantomime—was an audience assembled in a
London theatre so thoroughly actuated with an absorb-
ing feeling of curiosity as the audience who last night
sat expecting the appearance of Madame Ristori.
The play selected for the debut was the " Meddle" of
M. Ernest Legouv6, ©f which there was much talk in
Paris about a couple of years ago, when Mademoiselle
Rachel refused to play the principal part.
Th 3 curtain rose, and in the earlier scenes Creon,
King of Corintb, Jason, and Orpheus chiefly occupied
the stage.
But trifles were forgotten when a tall and handsome
woman, carrying one child and leading another, appeared
on the mountains at the back of the stage. This was
the Ristori—this was Medea, in whom the maternal
principle was at once made prominent to heighten the
horror of the catastrophe. The demeanour was proud
and commanding, the countenance was of the haughtiest
in its outline, the eye was dark and flashinee and though
the only feeling delineated was that of suffering (for Me-
dea, accoteling to M. Legouve, has lost Jason. and has
become a homeless wanderer), the aspect was of a suffer-
ing queen. A thunder of acclamations followed—al-
most anticipated her appearance—and even when she
had uttered the first few lines, instructing her child-
ren to kneel before the temple with suppliant boughs
in their hands, and implore protection, there was such
a tenderness in her tone that a gasp of sympathy might
he heard in every direction. The charm of the voice,
the power of modulating it were so manifest that
none could resist its fascinati in. Then came a dialogue
between Creusa, and Medea, much on the same principle
as that between Adelgisa and Norma, beginning with
mutual friendship, and ending with the discovery that
both the ladies are in love with the same person. Crosse
is the innocent girl, Medea is a grand criminal, who
has committed all sorts of delinquencies, but who has a
sort of glory in her guilt, and who, when she sees her
new-made acquaintance shrink with horror at a hint that
murder has been among her misdeeds, utter the words
" fanciulla !" with a sort of compassionate scorn.
Jealously comes to be a topic of conversation, and then
Medea says what she would do to those who would
make her jealous :
" What would Ido to them ? What does the panter,
When in the depths of forest glooms. He springs
Sudden in fury, roaring with fell joy
Upon his prey, and bears it to his cave,
There rends it limb by limb, and joint by joint,
Mangling each reeking member.'
Nothing could exceed the. effect produced by these
lines. Madame Ristori did not merely talk about the
leopard, she became the leopard, End by her gestures
signified that she was rending an imaginary victim piece.
meal. With ninety-nine ar:dets out of a hundred this
would have been vulgar rant ; With Madame Ristori it
was a sublime burst of rage—the rage of a haughty
spirit that would demolish a world. The late Mr.
Edtnnnd Kean once exclaimed with honest pride that
the pit "rose at him." Madame Ristori might declare
with equal truth that the stalls shrank from her. As
for the audience last night, they were overwhelmed with
admiration. We have confined ourselves to the prin-
cipal "effects" of the first act. At present we would
record the fact that a great success has been achieved
by an artist who for sublimity in the expression of tragic
emotion is probably beyond parallel. The whole affair
is "grand"—that is the exact word.