Star.
London, England, 1829-11-10 00:00:00

SHAKSPEARE IN FRANCE.

The absurd prejudices of a certain portion of the Pa;.is
press against every thing English. were never more strongly mani-
fested than in the expression of its sentiment. in respect to an
attempt to.play Translations of Shakspeare's Tragedies at the The-
atre Francais. It is regarded as a dereliction of the national dig-
nity, and has called forth all the violence of this party, which, no
doubt, sees in it further proofs of the designs of the Duke
of Wellington, whom they charge with having saddled them
with the present Ministry, in order to lead to the overthrow
of their liberties and independence. The tragedy selected
to begin with is Othello ; it has been translated into verse by M.
Alfred de Vigor, and has been performed for several nights at the
Theatre Francais with great success. The Liberal Journals are
now going to write down poor Shakspeare, both at Paris and its
London, where, it appears, by what they say, he is not respected,
nor are his plays ever represented on the stage. The following is
the mild and amiable critique of the Constitutionnel :—.
" The excluder partisans of the new school, passing tondemna-
doe on Comsaillevnto+remediating Racine $ nd Voltalteolleolkifflf,
• log out lustily—We must have something new ! We must have •
new creations! There must be inventions! They have bad
their own way, except the censure, which presses equally
on all literary parties ; they have had full liberty. and
this liberty they have pushed even to licentiousness. What
has it done for the dramatic art 7 Nothing, at least, Un-
less we reckon absurdities as something. We have used
Walter Scott's works ; we have used our own modern annals ;
we have esplored our ancient chronicles ; and here we are now, in
order to satisfy this want of innovation and creations, going to search
old Shakspeare, and re-produce on the French stage his brutal
genius,his gigantic and narrow conceptions, his sublime and paltry
inspirations. Othello opens the march, and Macbeth, Hamlet, and
Romeo, dispute the honour of enteritis the breach which the Moar
of Venice has attempted to render practicable.
" Sitakspeare, who created•the Enghih Theatre in the reign of
Elizabeth, had for spectatorwand jaidges only the British people,
then still plunged, In regard to the Fine Arts, ha the chaos of
incivilization. The Queen's Court, familiarised with the crimes of
the Palace, like the Courts which preceded that of Louis the 14th,
or like the Court of St. Pntersburgh, even at the beginning of
the existing century, disdained the pleasures of the mind ; and
less fortunate than Corneille and Moliere, Shakapeare found only
after his death worthy appreciators of his genius • hie splendid re-
nown was for him only a renown posthumous. Reduced to please
an ignorant and superstitious populace, be was constrained to submit
to the superstition and Magnum of his times • superior himself to
his age, he was compelled to submit to its rudeness and barbarity.
"Thus Shakspeare has grown a hundred times older in England,
than in France the great writers of the age of Louis the 14th.
When he wrote, the English language was yet in its infancy, while
Racine and Boileau carried to the highest pitch the charm, the ele-
gance. And the vigour of French poetry. At. London, nobody
goes to see Shakspeare, not even when he is played by the ablest
performers; and it was not without great difficulty that Garrick
succeeded in reviving his national glory.
" And it is this old author, celebrated in a country which is not
ours—in an idiom which is unknown to us—in a nation whose
manners and tastes have no resemblance to ours, that our pretend-
ing innovators would impose on us at this day ! Duds had taken
from Shakspeare all that the French taste would allow hint to be
robbed of : he slid not translate him at all, he imitated him ; he
converted the poet of Great Britain to the French taste, instead of
wishing to pervert the French taste to the brutalities of the vint-
ners of the Oty. in the 16th and 17th ages. Duels did not confine
himself to imitate the British Corneille. he created, and at the side
of Shakespeare's creations and the representation of the Moor of
Venice, reproduced in all its nakedness, does the greatest honour
eadkeimaimi al Useis.
o It is that we may arrive at a natural style, descend or rise to
truth, that the innovators of our days are endeavouring to antrench
themselves behind the great Shakspeare, as they call him them-
selves. without any body ever dreaming of contesting the legiti-
macy of so beautiful a title. Now here is this natural style and
this truth.
" Othello, as every one knows, has inspired the handsome Des-
demona with a passion so violent that this young and innocent girl
has eloped from her father's house to throw herself into the arms
of the African General. whose brilliant exploits have conquered
her. The Moor of Duds is young, impetuous, raging with pas-
sion, and covered with a glory of yesterday ; we conceive easily that
with this circle of glory round his head, he might have been able
to seduce the Senator's daughter. The Moor of Shakspeare, on
the contrary, is very nearly a sexagenarian ; his finest exploits
belong to an epoch when Desdensona•was yet in the cradle ; is it
probable, is it true, that a young person, well educated, belonging
to one of first families in Venice, would abandon her maiden
bed to throw herself into the arms of this old negro? If this is
natural, we should shun and forget it, instead of holding it up to
all the world on the stage. There is at the bottom of this idea
something repulsive, disgusting, and capable of wearying the most
depraved imaginations.
" The old negro, however, becomes the husband of Desdemona,
and on the day after the wedding the Senate orders him to make
his way through the Ottoman Sect, in order that he may take the
superior command of the Isle of Cyprus. He parts from his wife
and instals himself in his Government. Hardly arrived there, in
the middle of the night, be leaves his young spouse, who soon fel-
lows him to appease in the street a public-house squabble. In his
place. a .Governor of a town would have sent four soldiers and a
corporal to put an end to the affray. But for the honour of the
natural and of truth, he must run there himself, escorted by his
wife, to take into custody and send to the guard-house some quar-
relsome and drunken men.
" The Moor,' feeling old age approaching, thinks of becoming
jealous; he is persuaded that his wife is deceitful and false ;
there is nothing in it, but he believes it; and why does he be-
lieve it? Because leademona asks him, through the goodness
of her soul, for the pardon of a young officer, and more espe-
cially because she cannot, on the instant, refold a pocket-hand-
kerchief which was given hei by Othello. It should be observed
that this handkerchief had been lent by Desdemona to the Moor
himself to wipe his face, and that it was he and not she ' who had
lost it. This pledge of love and tenderness was ptckt up its a
public square by a waiting woman, who gave it to her husband.—
She is very much devoted to her mistress ; she hears the threats
of the Moor when be calls for the handkerchief back, and the
Idea of telling him what she has done with it does not enter her
mind ; this is what is called the truth. On her part, Desdemona,
threatened with death, merely because she no longer has the
handkerchief in her possession, takes care not to remind her
husband that she had lent it to him, and that he had not returned
it ; this is what is called the natural. After this, let them
complain again of the unlikelihood of the billet from Ne•
mull to Zara! And it is this pocket-handkerchief which
makes ready' and brings on the catastrophe ! The husband of the
waiting-woman, logo, who has carried it of, makes use of it to serve
the accomplishment of his frightful plant. This lago is a Don
„Juan of a lower rank, another Mephistopheles. whom the genius of
evil inflames ; iris be who makes the terrible poison of jealousy pe-
netrate into the soul of the fierce Othello ; it is he who got up the
public-house scene; it is be who persuades the Moor that his wife
betrays him for the yams officer whose pardon she has been
soliciting; it is he who causes this officer to be assassinated by a
young Lord whom he ruins, whom he robe, and whom he makes
commit a murder almost wholly from gaiety of heart ; for this
,yoting Lord, who falls in his turn, is entirely without passion, and
as cold as marble; and lago makes hint an assassin by assuring him
'that be shall that night sleep with Desdemona.
0 Finally, it is fart who recovers the famous handkerchief from
the pocket of the young officer, whom he had assassinated, and
that decides Othello to stifle his wife with a pillow, and lagn's
wife attends when her mistress has breathed her last ash, and re-
counts the history of the famous handkerchief, and when be knows
the troth; the Moor hills himself in his turn. Here again is the
natural anti the truth. ' Oh! if it be thus, give us again, as quickly
as possible. the supernatutal of Voltaire, and the falsehoods of
Corneille !
" Let us remark, in passing, that whets the Moor hag stifled hi.
!wife, after having, for ten minutes. endured in all her members
!the ;saisineNs of death, Desdemona utters some words. A person
,will stirvive, for some instants, a mortal wound, resulting (runs
'steel or fire ; but a person is either stifled or he is not. We know
loot whither this peculiarity belongs to the domain of truth or of
the pattrialt it belongs only t-4 the Academy of Medicine to ap -
;preciate'its merits.
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tion bas a genius to itself, as it has its own particular language'
and a good thought in English may appear common if expressed in
French. There is between the thought and expression such an
affinity and intimacy, that the one loses all its worth when deprived
of the other.
" This is a reason why a literal and complete translation of Mak-
. speare cannot be tolerated on the French stage. Genius may be
. compared to the finest plants which lose their beauty and their
taste on a foreign soil.
" As to the public, if there was a public, in general it was weary
every three hours out of four. Often applause was given in the
pit, while they were laughing in the boxes, and hissing in Paradise;
here they admired the Atte parts of this strange conception ; there,
:,nd at passages the most in the spirit of buffonery, they clapped
their hands with a son of fury, apostrophising the peaceful specta-
tors who did not partake of their own phrenzied enthusiasm."
The piece is got up with a luxury that rivals the Opera. Made-
moiselle Mass has only two or three scenes, in which her admir-
able talent Agues with great splendour.

THE EVENING STAR.

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